#It's nice that I finally know what it was and it isn't something that indicates anything bad happening to you just a brain mishap | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whipped-for-kpop-fics · 10 months ago

Text

Let our lips lock, baby - K.MG

💋Who; Kim Mingyu (Seventeen) x female reader 💋What; Friends to lovers smut. Fluff. They are in LOVE okay. Birthday boy Gyu <3 💋Wordcount; 9.8k 💋Warnings; Profanity. Pet names from them both(baby/sweetheart). A single solitary thigh spank. Oral(female receiving). Gyu gets a little posessive over reader for a second but it's more amusing than anything. I don't think there's actually anything specific that needs to be mentioned? But do let me know. They're on very equal grounds throughout this entire story and I love that for them <3

Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

Summary; The intention is to sneak into Mingyu's apartment(get let in by Wonwoo) and set up banners and balloons ready for when he wakes. And then you'll cook him a meal like he's been asking for and give him his birthday gift. You don't really have a plan for what happens after that, you assume you'll just hang out, you really don't expect a confession and to wind up in his bed.

Ao3 Link -2024 Masterlist-

A/N- The biggest juiciest thank you ever goes to @sluttywoozi for being so supportive as I wrote this! If it wasn't for you, sweetheart, this would just be soft hours, not sorny hours 💖💖💖 And just the svthub members in general for being actual sweethearts like wtf pls save some sweet for the rest of the world okay <3

ps. scroll to the very bottom to see a very serious birthday edit I made of Mingyu instead of writing this :))

🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈

Honestly, it's a little worrying just how easy it is to sneak around the apartment without detection. You had known that Mingyu is a heavy sleeper for quite a while now but it still concerns you that you literally managed to enter his room, tidy the little mess and set up decorations all while he slept obliviously in his bed with his mouth wide open in a sign of good sleep. Still, it makes everything all that much easier.

"Ohmygod, hyung!" The thrilled gasp edged with a just-awake roughness, alerts you to the fact that Mingyu has finally woken and spotted the decorations in his room. A few seconds later, he is stumbling through the apartment in search of his flatmate but instead finds you in the kitchen. "Oh, you're not hyung." He mutters dumbly, eyes wide. Yours are too but mostly because he is in rather skimpy little boxers and nothing else.

"I'm not," You confirm, staring without blinking at the extensive beautiful skin exposed to your eyes. Not that you have never seen Mingyu topless before, or even in shorts, but this is something else entirely that you have only dreamed of until now.

And then Mingyu realises what he is wearing, or more specifically what he isn't wearing and squeaks before rushing off with an embarrassed blush burning up his neck and cheeks.

When Mingyu returns ten minutes later, he is freshly showered and fully dressed, much to your disappointment. But at least he isn't just in sweatpants and a hoodie like you had expected; he's pulled on his nice jeans and a crisp plain black t-shirt that clings to his torso and is perhaps more devastating than seeing him bare. At least when he was bare it was less like being teased with something just out of sight. Either way, he is out of reach in every way.

The outfit choice makes you tilt your head a little in puzzlement. "You put on your date outfit." You comment, knowing that the jeans and t-shirt combo is a very common choice for Mingyu when he's going on a casual date with someone.

"You look nice, I thought I should too," Is his simple response as he shrugs and walks over to put his arms around your waist from behind and finally greet you as you usually greet one another; with a hug that is perhaps a little too lingering for the nothing-more-than-friends status you both claim to have. Which is true, nothing has ever happened between you two that passes platonic; it's just the fact that you want it to and if your mutual friends can be trusted, so does Mingyu.

"You said you like this dress," You inform, turning back to the food that you are working on. "And regularly complain that I never make an effort when I hang out with you. Seeing as it's a special occasion, I figured I should grant your wish, birthday boy." You tease and feel him grin happily against your neck where he is still tucked down into like he favours. It always amazes you how such a giant man will shrink down for extended periods just to give affection to those he cares about. "Go sit at the table, this'll be ready soon. Your breakfast, my lunch." You muse, pointing out that it is already almost 1 pm, but you had honestly expected as much. Mingyu is notorious amongst your friends for sleeping into the afternoon on days when he doesn't have to get up. And he always takes his birthday off to allow that luxury.

"Ah, you finally agreed to cook for me." He coos and squeezes you happily before letting his arms unwind, hands sliding over your waist in a way that has you suppressing a shiver. Either he doesn't notice your little shaky inhale or simply chooses to ignore it as he relocates over to the dining table.

"I asked what you wanted for your birthday, you said you wanted me to cook for you." You remind, glancing over as he gasps and picks up the little ribbon-wrapped box on the tabletop while he sits down.

"Is this for me too?" He looks over at you with big eyes full of innocent excitement. He's so fucking cute that it is honestly a giant problem for your ability to keep a level heartbeat.

"Mm, of course, do you see another Mingyu here?" You raise an eyebrow, and then he notices the tag with his name on and giggles embarassedly. "Happy birthday, Gyu."

"Thank you," He breathes out, looking at you fondly for a few long seconds and then turns down to the box. "Can I open it now?"

"Whenever you want, it's yours." You confirm, turning off the heat to dish up the food onto two plates.

"Ah, after food." He decides, putting down the box to jump up with every intention of helping you; though you tut disapprovingly causing him to lower back to his seat like a scolded puppy.

"It's your birthday, let me dote on you."

"You dote on me anyway." He pouts slightly as you carry the plates over to put on the already cutely laid table, down to a little vase with fresh flowers in it. Mingyu has obviously noticed them and knows they're from you, Wonwoo wouldn't buy flowers for their apartment after all, but Mingyu does not have the mental capacity to point them out. It's too much for his poor smitten heart to handle after waking up to birthday balloons and banners, and then seeing you looking so beautiful cooking in his kitchen domestically. If he's forced to voice anything in regard to the appearance of his favourite flowers, he is pretty sure he'll do something stupid like confess his undying love for you and ask you to never leave.

"Yes, and you do it too, but today is about you, birthday boy." You retort and make a move to sit down. Mingyu is on his feet before your ass even touches the chair, just so that he can tuck you in like he always does. You let him have this one and just roll your eyes at his inability to not take care of you, even on a day entirely about him.

Soon Mingyu is making happy sounds in his seat on your adjacent left as he thoroughly enjoys every mouthful of food. As much as Mingyu is a foodie and savours his food in general, he still tends to practically inhale whatever is in front of him when he hasn't eaten in a while, but he is genuinely taking his time to absorb every flavour and texture of this meal. It makes your heart flutter to see the genuine appreciation he has for what you cooked for him.

It occurs to you as you take a photo of him enjoying his food to send to the group chat, that the scene very much looks like a date. Your friends all know what Mingyu tends to wear for dates and if they know your own outfit of the day- which Wonwoo at least does- then they will also know that it's one of your own date looks. You stare at your screen for a second then lock the device as you decide against sending them anything despite having agreed to send update pictures. You had already sent photos of the decorations in Mingyu's room though so that will be enough, right? You know that it most certainly is not enough where your nosey friends are concerned. Still, ignorance is bliss.

For the first time perhaps ever, you finish eating before Mingyu so just sit back and watch him contently. He knows that you're watching him and keeps grinning closed-lipped at you, not at all bothered by your attention. He isn't a hypocrite, he has watched you eat his own cooking in such a way many times before and will continue to do so. Mingyu knows exactly how wonderful it feels to witness anybody enjoying your own cooking, especially those you care about. And Mingyu knows that you care about him an awful lot, he is just kind of in denial that the care had long ago stretched way past platonic territory.

As soon as Mingyu puts his cutlery down on his empty plate, you jump up to take the dishes away making him whine. "I was about to do that!" He complains, pouting at you, his left hand wrapped around his glass of water that he barely managed to touch before you dart away with the dirty dishes and distract him from his drink.

"No, you weren't, birthday boy." You sing-song, rinsing off the dishes already to put in the dishwasher ready for later in the day when it will be full enough to warrant being turned on.

"Are you really going to do everything for me today?"

"Yep, whatever you want, I'm at your disposal, Gyu."

"Whatever I want?" He mumbles, more to himself than you, which is good because you don't hear his voice over the gentle clatter of dishes being placed into the dishwasher. All he can think about is getting the one thing he has wanted almost since the very day he first laid his eyes on you. Your lips. Your hands. Your body. You in your entirety. You by his side always so that he doesn't have to face the ache of watching you walk away ever again. But he can't ask for that, not even on his birthday.

After washing your hands, you return to your place at the table and lean onto your elbows on the tabletop. You don't notice the way the position accentuates your cleavage but Mingyu certainly does. It takes everything in him to not look down at your chest. "Are you going to open your gift now?" You prompt, nodding towards the little box.

"Oh, yeah!" He perks up and reaches out for it. "Though you really didn't have to get me anything, you already cooked for me and that's the best gift I've ever received."

"Don't be ridiculous, Gyu, it was just a meal. Not even a particularly exciting one either, you regularly cook much more extravagant meals for me." You pout a little, feeling guilty about the meal you made for him. You had spent weeks trying to come up with something special to cook for him; you had even made a secret groupchat with some of your friend group who you thought would be helpful and not just ignore the chat, to send recipes and ask opinions. It had actually been Seokmin in the end who had not quite snapped but got fed up with your consistent worries over the planned meal and told you that Mingyu wouldn't give a single fuck what you cooked, he just cared that you cooked it. Seeing Seokmin speak up like that made you finally listen to the reason the entire chat had been trying to talk into you, so you stopped looking for something fancy and just cooked something you are confident in already.

"It's not about that," Mingyu speaks, looking at you earnestly. "It's about the act itself; cooking something for me no matter what it is, shows you care. That's what I care about, not the meal itself. Though it was delicious and I really hope you cook it for me again." His smile turns cheeky by the end making you let out a soft laugh.

"Mm, just say when." You agree, smiling when his whole face lights up. You playfully scrunch your nose at him. He returns it without hesitation.

A moment passes between you, not a new moment but one you have both felt many times; a moment with something meaningful floating in the air between you. But as per usual, neither of you are brave enough to reach out and capture it.

At the same time, you both look down at the box still in his hands to redirect your attention to something that doesn't feel quite so big in your chests. Carefully, Mingyu pulls on the ribbon to untie the bow that you had spent a good half an hour trying to perfect that morning so that he can then pluck the lid free. After moving aside the tissue paper Mingyu's eyes land on the jewellery within. His expression melts along with his posture. With a cautious hand, he reaches out to touch one of the silver chains.

"I hope they're what you wanted; you were very vague when you said matching bracelets. I don't know who you intend to wear them with, but I hope you both like them. And that the design isn't entirely opposite to your intention." You worry a little at the end, your own gaze settling on the little double hearts on each somewhat dainty chain. Jeonghan had given you a look as if you were crazy when you had shown them to him last week; he insisted that Mingyu would break the chain within the first day of wearing it. But you know they are much more resilient than they look after extensive testing on them both. You are confident that even Mingyu's accident-prone self won't destroy the chains, yet even if he does, you'll just buy him more. Any many as he wants. So long as he's happy, you'll buy him anything his heart desires. "I just know you like love heart designs and everything else didn't really suit you in my mind."

"They're beautiful." He breathes out then scoots closer to you and holds his left arm out over the table top. "Put it on me, please?"

"Sure," You agree even if you're confused about why he isn't waiting until he gives the matching one to whoever his intended recipient is. Still, you pluck one of the bracelets from its secure seat in the box to wind it around his wrist and clasp it in place. Your fingers trace over the chain and his skin for a second before you start to pull back. But Mingyu quickly, though gently, grasps your right hand to tug it closer to him. "Gyu," You murmur with widened eyes when he pulls the remaining chain from the box. "Gyu, I didn't buy it with this intention." You explain rapidly, worried that he thinks that you expect him to give the other to you purely because you had purchased the matching pair.

"I asked for it with this intention." He admits eyes focused on the chain he ties around your wrist. "Why do you think I asked you to get me matching bracelets if not to share with you?"

"I don't know. I've bought you stuff to match with the guys before."

"Mm, true," He agrees and looks up at you though his fingers remain on your wrist tenderly. "But I wanted these for us; something I can wear every day and have a reminder of you, so I can look down and feel better because I'll be thinking of you."

"Gyu…" You breathe out. His words hold a lot more weight than anything the pair of you dare to utter to one another; like he has finally reached out and caught onto that thing between you and now he is offering you the chance to reach back out. But you don't know what to say, how to reach out without risking the weight of his words not being what you hope.

He stares at you for a moment, lip between his teeth as he chews on it a little with nerves filling his chest. He's already said it, there isn't any going back now. So he decides that if he can't go back, he should keep going forward and take that leap that he truly hopes with everything in him will end in your open arms. "You said whatever I want, right?" He recalls. It takes you a second to understand what exactly he means but then you nod. "Well, I have something that I've wanted for a really long time, something only you can give me. But I don't want you to give it to me just because I asked and it's my birthday. Okay?"

"Uh, okay?" You reply, confused yet very hopeful that whatever his request is, it will be enough that if you reach out, your hand will find his own doing the same. "What is it?"

"Will you kiss me?" Your eyebrows lift in surprise as your heart races in your chest. "And not…not just because kissing is nice and you haven't kissed anyone in a while so you're happy to kiss for that reason." You don't even care that he has bluntly mentioned your lack of any kind of action in the past months. "But because you want to kiss me and not because I'm one of your closest friends or just for a sexual thing but because you like me and want me the way that I want you."

Your voice is barely a whisper when you respond. "And how do you want me?"

"By my side from now until forever as mine, and me as yours entirely."

"Really?" Your voice is choked and there are tears in your eyes from his sincere words.

Mingyu's own eyes look as if they are gathering tears too. Though his aren't wet just because of the rapidly growing cloud of something between you with his hands deep inside as he tries to direct it to your own touch. He's fucking petrified that he is ruining everything between you yet he hadn't been able to stop talking and let his truth flow free. He will never forgive himself if his honesty pushes you away; he'd rather have you as nothing more than a friend than not at all, so long as you're still such a big part of his life.

"Yeah, I-I'm kind of really in love with you," He admits with a weak chuckle. He tries to lighten the mood with a smile but it's much too shaky to do the job.

Luckily though, you don't notice, you're already darting forward to lean over the table and kiss him utterly overwhelmed by his confession and the swell of your heart to have the mentality to voice anything in response. You hope your lips against his will suffice until you have your full faculties back.

For a handful of seconds, Mingyu remains frozen solid in his seat, eyes wide on your own closed ones closer to his face than you have ever been before. He had hoped you'd react positively, but he hadn't dared to expect it. The hope itself had seemed like a dream. So it takes him a few seconds to fully register that you have just fucking kissed him despite all he said. You two have such a solid mutual respect for one another that he knows that you will never play with his emotions in any way. It's that mental reminder that has him jerking back to reality. His hands fly up to cup your face as his eyes close and he finally kisses you back with a soft groan.

Considering that the kiss had been rather one-sided for its start, it isn't a sweet kiss by any means. It's passionate from the first second that his lips press back against yours; both of you are full of so much emotion for one another for so long that it's being released all at once.

You hadn't intended to get carried away in the way Mingyu's tongue caresses your own or how he regularly lets out little low sounds from the back of his throat to show how pleased he is by the way that your mouths move with this same pure need for one another, but you do.

Only when you find yourself on his lap, table edge pressing into your lower back and his erection grinding up between your spread legs, do you actually recall that you hadn't meant to do more than just kiss the man until you gain your mental clarity back. Not that you do gain your mental clarity back but you've both pulled apart to desperately refill your lungs even without stopping your hips moving against each other.

"Gyu," You manage, holding his face firmly and looking into his heavy gaze. He licks his lips but doesn't respond verbally. He's at least staring at you intently enough that you know he will hear you even over the lust thick in his veins. "I'm in love with you too."

All at once, Mingyu falls still and blinks at you in dumb surprise. He hadn't expected you to say as much; even if you do feel the same way, he thought your return confession would come later. You know, after he's fucked you until you can't walk without thinking of his cock every single step. "You are?" He asks, not because he thinks you'd lie, but just because his blood is not circulating around his brain enough for him to have the ability to decipher if it's just a horny hallucination fuelled by his own love for you.

"Yeah, have been for a while."

"Oh." Another few empty blinks at you before he beams and wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. "I love you so so so so so much, sweetheart. You'll be mine, right?" He leans back to look at you with big eyes full of love and a hint of pleading.

"Yeah, yeah, of course." You agree, beaming right back at him with your arms around his neck. "For as long as you want me."

"How does forever sound?" Mingyu offers with a cheeky smile.

You take a moment to just admire him, admire the man who owns your entire heart and soul. "I'm not sure it's long enough." You will happily dedicate an eternity to loving Kim Mingyu but even then, you aren't sure that it's long enough in comparison to the devotion he deserves.

"But it's a start."

"It's a start." You agree with a single nod. He smiles adoringly at you then lifts one hand from around you to cup your cheek tenderly and leads you into a kiss. This one isn't like the other, there's no lust in this, even if it still burns in your very blood and clearly in his too based on the bulge still pressing against you. All the kiss contains is pure unfiltered love, and you hope to have many more like it in your future together. And you're positive that it is going to be a long and happy future.

The longer the kiss goes on, the more the lust trickles back in. Soon enough, you're grinding against each other looking for friction and to feel one another closer.

"Baby," Mingyu pants out, gripping your hips tight to force you to a stop. You pout at him confused and rather offended. "There's something else I want. For my birthday."

"If it's to fuck me, you have my very enthusiastic consent." You reply immediately and try to move back in to reunite your lips but he holds you still making you whine. "Gyu,"

"No, it's not. Well, I mean I do want to fuck you, a lot but that's not what's on my mind right now." You pointedly look down at the borderline obscene bulge in his jeans then back up at him. He giggles a little, kind of shy and very out of place but so fucking cute that you can't help but smile in return.

"Okay, what do you want, birthday boy?" You coo, brushing your fingers through his hair.

"To eat you out." You raise an eyebrow at him. You thought he'd ask for a blow job if anything, not for him to go down on you. Not that you're against that at all. "Can I?"

"Mm, sure, baby, whatever you want." You agree. He grins then abruptly hoists you up onto the table making you yelp in alarm at being manhandled out of the blue. Once again, not that you're against that at all.

"I've wanted to get my mouth on you for so long," He admits breathlessly as he watches his hands smooth up your spread thighs in front of him. "Thought about how you'd taste, dreamed about it." He slowly pushes the skirt of your dress up and up and up until it's bunched at the crease between your thighs and hips.

You watch him stare at the seat of your panties for a moment, his fingers pressing into your thighs and mouth open. "For someone who's wanted this for so long, you're taking your time getting to it, baby." You tease, tapping his chin causing him to snap his mouth shut embarrassedly while flicking his eyes up to you.

"Shut up, I'm overwhelmed," He mumbles, tilting his head towards your hand so that you cup his cheek. Your thumb brushes over his lips so he presses a kiss to it without thought.

"Overwhelmed in a good way?"

"The best way," Mingyu confirms, nodding in your hold. "I just found out that you love me and now I get to touch and taste you. It's a lot, I'm not sure I've even absorbed that you love me yet."

"Will it help if I say it again?" You tease, leaning down towards his face. He straightens as you lower as if drawn to you without him even needing to consciously move his body. You have only just come together but already, it's so natural to you both.

"Only one way to find out."

Instead of saying the words, you press your lips to his. You kiss him softly, slowly in a way that makes his breath hitch and his fingers tremble a little against your skin. With just a hint of sweetness. "I love you, Mingyu, more than I can put into words."

"I can't either." He agrees and brushes his nose against yours softly before pressing a flutter of a kiss to your cheek, and then another a little lower. "I'm not good with words," Another kiss below the last. "I never have been," He continues to speak in between creating a trail of his lips over your jaw and down onto your neck, trying his utmost to carve a path of his love into your skin in hopes of it reaching your very centre and finding a home there. "And I'll spend my whole fucking life trying to find them for you." His lips are at your collarbones by now with little flashes of his tongue to taste every inch of you he can. It sends your stomach both fluttering and burning. "But for now, let me try and show you instead." He pulls his mouth from you to stand up and hover over you with both of his hands finding your face to direct your gaze up into his own.

You nod a little in agreement. "Show me, Gyu." You encourage on a whisper before his lips are back on yours, tongue sliding into your mouth as he encourages you to lay back against the tabletop without once breaking the kiss.

And then in true Mingyu fashion, once you are flat against the wood and he reaches up to prop himself up over you, he knocks over the vase of flowers.

He shrieks and flails to try and catch them but the vase topples over, spilling water out over the wood and thanks to his failed correction, in your direction. You just stare dumbly at him. It all happened so fast. One second you're making out with your boyfriend and the next, you're soaked and not in the ideal area. Luckily, it actually isn't an awful lot of water but having it over half of your face and chest really is not enjoyable in any way.

"Ohmygod, I am so sorry, baby," Mingyu rushes out when he looks at you instead of the mess of stems and petals over the table amongst the water. "I didn't mean to get you wet!" You raise an eyebrow with a suggestive grin. Instantly, his worry goes and he laughs. "This is the wrong kind of wet." He muses and plonks the vase down so that he can wrap his arms around you and pull you upright against his chest. "Will you be upset if I ignore the flowers you bought me to take you to bed and make you wet in the other way?" He wiggles his eyebrows.

"I think I'd be more upset if you focused on the flowers."

"Good." Mingyu lowers just enough to get your thighs up around his waist and his hands under them securely before lifting. "Always wanted to pick you up." He admits off-handedly as he traipses through the apartment.

"Why?"

"Because…you let Seungcheol do it that time but no one else." He pouts and you giggle, absently playing with the hair at his nape where your fingers lay comfortably. "Don't laugh at me." He whines. The slap of his palm against the underside of your thigh isn't hard and doesn't hurt at all but the point gets through. Even if it is entirely contradictory behaviour to his sulking.

"Yes sir," You reply, a tease but your voice is serious. The only sign of the playful response is in the way your eyes sparkle on him. He gives you an unimpressed look but quickly breaks and smiles. Though seconds later, the smile turns into a smirk and he tosses you onto his bed.

"You look good in my bed." He grins, eyes darkening as they roam you from where he stands at the side of the bed with his hands on his hips.

"Look better with you on top of me, come on." You settle with your head on the soft pillows and spread your legs invitingly while pulling your skirt up higher. Mingyu is between your thighs in seconds, chest flat to the mattress and face alarmingly close for the speed at which he moves. For a second, you really think that he's going to collide with you; although you have wanted Mingyu's mouth on for a long time, that would certainly not be how you fantasised. "Ohmygod, I thought you were going to faceplant my vagina for a second." You admit in a relieved exhale. He snorts a laugh then shuffles a little closer so that he can press a kiss at the crease of your inner right thigh over the edge of your panties.

There aren't any further words exchanged between you, just a moment of heated eye contact before Mingyu adjusts his position and pulls the seat of your panties to expose you to him. He takes a few seconds to burn this image of you all slick and bare for him in his mind; something for him to look back on when he misses you.

Because he knows he will. He missed you before he even had you and now? Good luck ever going a day without him whining for you in some way.

You let him look even if it makes you blush and squirm a little, half shy, half aroused at the intensity of his burning gaze locked between your spread thighs. He isn't even holding your legs open, just resting his left hand on your inner thigh without any pressure while his right keeps your panties aside. If he was anyone else, your thighs would've closed already but this is Mingyu, the man you hope to spend a lifetime with, so you figure you shouldn't be shy with him. He'll see it all eventually anyway.

Just before you can change your mind and try to encourage him either verbally or by reaching out and pulling him in, he leans down and licks a broad stripe over you, pulling your wetness onto his tongue and making you inhale sharply at the sudden wet touch. He groans deeply and his eyes almost roll back as he sucks the flavour off of you from his own tongue to swallow down. And then he's back, diving right down with his left hand moving to use his thumb to hold you open and give him easier access to lap at the arousal trickling from your hole.

He doesn't really give you any chance to think, just grip the sheets below you with your mouth open and eyes shut while he devours you with more enthusiasm than you could've ever expected. If you didn't think it before, you certainly do now; Kim Mingyu is the personification of your wettest dreams. The way his tongue travels over your folds hungrily, lips joining to suck and kiss wherever his heart desires, is so fucking sinful in the best of ways. You think he may very well suck your soul out of your clit at this rate and you'll thank him for it.

"Gyu," You finally manage to make a sound beside the whimpers and moans he skillfully pulls from your throat in a way nobody could, not even yourself and you truly thought you knew your body through and through by this point. But boy were you wrong. And for the first time, you're very fucking happy to be proven incorrect.

And apparently, calling his name out of the blue is not a smart move because he immediately leans up to look at you with wide eyes of concern. "Yeah, baby? You okay?"

"Don't fucking stop!" You wail in complaint, reaching out to knot your fingers into his hair and force him back down. Though he's more than willing to get his mouth back on your dripping pussy and lowers easily under your hands with a pleased groan. "Don't stop," You repeat on an exhale, watching him devour you as if it's his sole reason for existing. You wish you could watch him for longer but your neck quickly starts to hurt from the awkward angle so you flop back down and let your eyes close again.

Mingyu glances up at you for a second then also closes his own eyes with a self-satisfied smirk. He has imagined this so many times before; how you'd taste on his tongue, how you'd feel against his lips, but nothing he imagined can hold a candle to the haven he's discovered between your thighs. He knows he could happily spend all day with his head between your thighs and his tongue buried in your pussy. He wonders if you'd let him. Not right now, he thinks that would be too much for your first day together but in the future. Tomorrow? Yeah, he'll ask to do it tomorrow, you can both call in sick to work as far as he's concerned.

Honestly, Mingyu is too lost in his own actions to register the way your legs are pulling in either side of his head and your moans changing in pitch and frequency. He only notices when suddenly he has a thigh pressed to either side of his head and you're pressing down against him with a call of his name. His eyes fly open to watch you arch off of the bed as your orgasm shocks through your body. He doesn't mean to groan lowly where his lips are wrapped around your clit but he does and the vibration is too much when you're barely through your climax so you scramble to push his head away. "Sorry, sorry," He pants out, crawling up the bed to hover over you while you slump down, eyes closed and chest heaving. He lowers onto his elbows on either side of you to kiss your neck softly while he waits for you to catch your breath back. He isn't expecting anything more than this and would be happy if you wanted to just leave it here for today, but he's sure as shit hoping you'll let him put his cock in you even for a moment. At this point, he's sure it won't take more than just a moment or two for him to cum anyway, his dick is throbbing in his boxers, pressing against his jeans in a way that he's only now realising is actually a little painful.

The second your breath is back, you tug him up to lock your lips together. His are a little damp and sticky still but you find you don't mind tasting yourself when it's on Mingyu's tongue.

You don't wait long at all before reaching down for the hem of his t-shirt to pull it up. He leans back to give you a questioning look, more to make sure you're certain than anything else. You continue to pull it up so he maneuvers to allow you to remove it from his body.

"You're insane, you know?" You murmur out awed as you take in his defined torso. For the first time, you can touch him to your heart's content so you run your palms over his newly exposed skin, memorising the warmth, the dips and ridges of him.

"What?" He laughs confusedly, looking between your bodies and taking in how your hands look against him, how your skin tone compliments his own perfectly. Like you were made to complement each other. For each other. As he looks up at you and observes the reverence on your beautiful features, he thinks perhaps you were. It's that thought that has him lowering back to your lips again before you can even answer his question. He has the sudden urge to love you in every way he possibly can; not that he never does, but right now it's less of the usual consistent buzz and more like a heated thrumming right under the surface of his skin.

You let out a little surprised 'mmh' against his lips yet don't hesitate to kiss him back. Your hands first lift to hold his face but then they move back down, over his pecs and abs all the way to the waistband of his jeans where you tuck your fingers underneath in a silent request. He groans a little and presses against your hand in wordless consent so you quickly open the button and pull down the zipper so that you can snake a hand underneath and palm at him over his boxers.

Mingyu immediately pulls out of the kiss with a hiss and a low curse. "Baby, I'll cum if you touch me." He warns, locking pleading eyes on you. You can't quite tell what he's pleading for though. Not when his words say one thing and his hips rolling against your palm tells you another.

"Isn't that kind of the point?" You muse, lifting a teasing eyebrow.

"I don't want to," He pouts. Without hesitation, you pull your hands away and hold them to yourself. "No, I didn't mean to stop." He whines.

"What the fuck, Mingyu?" You complain, pinching his nipple making him yelp and squirm away a little but only for a second as he returns right back. Always drawn to you and unable to hide it anymore, he doesn't want to hide it anymore. Wants the world to know if at all possible.

"I mean I don't want to cum like that." He explains, soothing your displeasure with a few sweet kisses to your forehead and temple. "I really want to be inside you."

"Oh," Your expression swiftly shifts into understanding and then delight. "I really want you inside me too, Gyu."

"Yeah?" It's kind of comical the way his eyes light up in pure excitement. More like he has been offered his favourite food, not to fuck you. Well, considering the enthusiasm with which he ate you out earlier though, you may very well be his new favourite thing to eat.

"Yeah, so get naked." You confirm with a giggle that only grows when he scrambles off of the bed to shed his clothes. He stumbles multiple times in his haste and honestly, you're too fucking endeared and in love with this giant clumsy idiot to do anything but sit and watch him with a stupid grin on your face.

He only notices that you have not done anything but sit upright when he turns to climb back on the bed entirely naked and spots you watching him. "You're not naked." He comments, a fresh pout pursing his lips.

"I got distracted watching the man I'm in love with," You explain smoothly. Mingyu's cheek flushes as he smiles at your words, his heart swelling with his own love in his chest. He's not sure he'll ever get used to hearing you admit to your love for him. He doesn't think he wants to get used to it.

He climbs up onto the bed further and reaches out to the hem of your skirt. You get up onto your knees in front of him and lift your arms. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead before removing the dress from your body to toss it to the floor carelessly. Later he will worry about the creases in it from being on the floor, but right now he can't think about anything but you.

"You're so beautiful." He exhales heavily as he roams his gaze over your bra and panty-clad body. You're glad you wore one of your nice matching sets today, you think he deserves to see your nice lingerie for your first time together at least.

"So're you." You reach around your back to unlatch your bra. Mingyu's eyes widen in interest for a second then he moves in and pulls the straps from your shoulders so that he can also discard that piece of clothing, leaving you in your damp, slightly stretched-out panties. "How do you want me?" You ask as you hook your thumbs in the waistband, but Mingyu bats your hands away gently so that he can have the honour of stripping you naked.

"On your back." He murmurs as he works the material down your thighs.

"Don't want me to ride you?" You offer, his eyes snap up to you and he goes very quiet and still for a few seconds as the mental image of you bouncing on his cock assaults his mind. And then he's shaking it away with a physical shake of his head and nudging you down to your earlier position so that he can remove the last item keeping you from being as bare as him.

"Not right now, I'll cum too fast." He admits, settling between your thighs on his knees and just looking at you with his hands on your inner thighs just above your knees. "Might cum too fast anyway." He confesses in a mumble making you choke out a laugh at his abrupt confession. "Will you break up with me if I cum as soon as I feel your pussy on my cock?" He asks, looking genuinely worried at the thought and like he seriously wants an answer.

So you take a breath so that you don't laugh again and shake your head a little. "No, Gyu, I won't break up with you if that happens."

"Promise?"

"I promise." You assure, squeezing his hands a little. His left moves up to grab yours in return and lace your fingers together on your thigh.

"Okay," He relaxes as he accepts your words as truth then looks down to focus on his right hand as it moves from your thigh and to between your legs. "I should've stretched you earlier when I had my mouth on you." He realises, prodding at your entrance with his lips slightly protruding in concentration and a little regret at his lack of forethought destroying his plans of sliding into your pussy any second.

"Do you want me to do it?" You offer. Two of his fingers slide into you in answer making your breath catch but then you laugh a little at his reaction.

"No, nobody touches this pussy except me." He argues firmly, already working to move his fingers within you, in and out while scissoring them with his only goal to stretch you enough to comfortably fit his thick cock inside.

"I-I can't even t-touch my own body now?" You ask, amused but his fingers in you feel too good for you to actually put any emotion into your voice. You vaguely hope he doesn't take it the wrong way and does understand that you're trying to joke with him, but mostly you don't care how he takes it so long as he keeps stretching you out in that way. It's a rushed job, you know that, you can tell that he obviously only wants one thing right now and this isn't for giving you any pleasure, but it still is. Maybe it's the way he's being a little rough about it without actually being rough, he's giving you the chance to adjust to his fingers but he's already adding a third and jabbing them into you sooner than you would yourself.

"Not like this," Mingyu answers, eyes still on his task between your thighs, though now he's seeing the way you're leaking even more and he's sort of clicking back into the fact that he should consciously be making this good for you. Though the slick sounds mixed with your laboured breathing and intermittent soft moans tell him that he doesn't really need to try to make this good for you. But next time, next time he'll make you cum until the sheets are soaked down to the mattress before he puts his cock in you. "Are you on birth control?" The question feels entirely out of the blue so you can't be blamed for not answering and just blinking at him for a second. He slows his hand to a stop and lifts his head when you don't answer. "I really want to cum in you." He explains.

"Oh, uh, no. I kept forgetting to take it." You answer and feel genuinely bad when his expression falls. He looks kind of heartbroken. "I plan to get something else soon though, so in the future you can."

"Okay," He smiles agreeably then removes his fingers from you to reach over to his bedside table, open it and rummage inside to find a condom.

"You'd have more luck if you let go of my hand." You muse watching him struggle to open the foil packet with one hand, the corner of it carefully held between his front teeth.

"No," He refuses around closed teeth. There's a victorious sound from him when the foil rips open. He spits out the ripped piece of the packet to the side and you watch the corner flutter away knowing he will be annoyed at himself for littering his floor later. "Uhm," His lost mutter draws your attention back to him. He's kneeling there, the tip of the condom pinched between his fingers as he stares between it and his erection. Clearly, he did not think this through.

You huff a soft almost silent laugh before you sit up and move his hand to his dick so that he can hold the condom and allow you to roll it down his length. He bites his lip and tries to not let your touch get to him.

"Teamwork," Mingyu giggles when you lean back and look up at him. "We make a good team, right, baby?"

"Mm, the best," You confirm, tugging him down by the back of his neck to connect your lips. Mingyu's free hand brushes appreciately over your arm before he starts to lean forward, urging you back slowly until you're against the mattress and he's over you with his right arm holding him up, his left hand still locked with yours but now it's by your side.

You can feel his erection against you, the latex sliding against your thigh until you lift your legs to nudge him over a little by his hips. He presses down, gliding his cock over your folds and catching on your clit. He can't really get the position right like this though, not to slide into you. Mingyu lifts your connected hands up to the pillow beside your head so that he can move his weight over to his left elbow and get his right hand between your bodies. He grasps his erection loosely, just enough of a grip to line himself up with your dripping hole.

"Ready?" He breathes out after leaning up enough to look down into your eyes. You nod without hesitation so he pushes in. He's only an inch into you and he's already convinced that your pussy is the greatest pussy that has ever or shall ever exist.

As Mingyu gradually feeds his thick length into you, you have the honour of watching his face contort beautifully in pained pleasure. He's trembling and his gaze is unfocused even as he stares back down at you with his mouth dropped open wide without a single sound coming out. You're not even sure he's breathing, and honestly, you're not sure you are either.

The stretch of his cock against your walls is utterly mind-numbing. You've had your fair share of sexual partners in the past and plenty of sex toys to keep yourself happy otherwise, but nothing, absolutely nothing has ever felt the way Mingyu feels tucked up snug inside of you. You're not sure if it's because his cock is just that good, big in all the right ways without being too big, or if it's just that you're in so fucking deep with this man that anything he does feels ridiculously good. You're leaning towards the latter, though you are pretty certain that he has the most perfect cock to have ever graced this earth, if not the universe.

When Mingyu's hips finally press up against you signalling that he is fully sheathed within you, you're half certain that you can feel him in your stomach and absently press down with your left hand just to test that theory. You can't feel him, but you can imagine it all the same and wrap your arm back around his neck loosely.

"You okay?" You whisper when he remains that way, eyes still unfocused on your face and both hands on either side of your head where his right is gripping the pillow with everything in him.

"No," He chokes out, finally blinking alert. "Feel so good," He slurs. "Don't wanna cum yet, wanna stay in you forever."

"You don't have to pull out right away." You soothe your hand over the back of his neck, fingers digging into the muscles a little in an attempt to calm your overwhelmed boyfriend. "And I don't have any plans today so we can spend as long as you want in bed and you can fuck me again later when you're ready."

"Really?" He perks up a little. "N-no plans?"

"No, baby, I wanted to be available for whatever you want to do today. Granted, I thought it might be a drive or trip somewhere, not sex."

"Would you rather the trip?" He teases with a little smirk as he slowly pulls his hips back, dragging his cock along your walls that try to keep him in place. His smirk wavers.

"No. Fuck me." You reply knowing he really can't hold out anymore. You really don't want him to either. He nods and thrusts back into you.

You expect him to move fast and frantic, to chase the pleasure he has been dancing along the precipice of for a while now. Yet Mingyu fucks you slowly, rolling his hips deep into you and then all the way out until his tip is barely in you before sliding back in. He fucks you like he's got something to prove. It reminds you of his earlier words, that he wants to show you what he doesn't yet have the words to say.

"I love you," You blurt, suddenly overcome with the urge to say it.

Mingyu stills for a second then surges down to kiss you passionately, spilling his response into your mouth wordlessly as his hips return to work. Now though, he barely pulls out before fucking back into you. It's more of a grind than anything, his body pressed close enough that his pubic bone is applying pressure to your clit in a way that is shattering you from your mind to your lower stomach.

Very quickly, the pleasure is too much for either of you to make your lips work further so Mingyu leans up, propping himself up on his right elbow on the pillow, his fingers threading into your hair to hold you as his body continues to make your body burn brighter with every passing second. His forehead presses to yours for a few seconds before he lifts his head and looks to his left. You look over too, wondering what could draw his attention right now when he's fucking you like no one ever has before.

At first, you don't understand at all, all you can see in his line of sight is your hands. Which is nice, sure, the sight of your fingers locked together as he shows you how much he loves you with his cock buried deep within you and grinding against more sensitive spots than you ever knew you had before, though you don't understand his laser focus. But then you find the matching silver chains on your wrists, the hearts almost pressed together with the angle you were holding each other and you understand.

Those bracelets were always supposed to be a sign of love for him, even if you didn't know it. He had asked you to pick out bracelets for you to wear together so that he could always have a piece of you with him and you a piece of him. You had exchanged hearts, metaphorically and quite literally now with the physical representations tied securely around your wrists.

Something about that very thought sends you tumbling into an intense orgasm without you realising it's going to happen until the blinding pleasure is washing over you. Your hands both grip Mingyu, one in his hand and the other around his back and drawing red lines into his shoulder blade. You're not even aware of it, of how you call his name and clamp down around his cock as you gush over it, promptly sending him spiralling into his own mind-numbing orgasm.

It's minutes before either of you return back to earth.

You're back first, blinking away the tears that you hadn't realised had formed until now. Mingyu is pressing up against your chest with his head on your shoulder and the only movement of his body is his back as his breathing starts to even out. It hits you that you missed his orgasm; you had always wanted to know what he looks like during such intense pleasure, but you missed it thanks to your own. You frown a little though a quick glance at your still connected hands reminds you that you are his and he is yours, therefore, this will not be your only chance to see his handsome features contort with pleasure.

"I love you but I also love breathing." You point out after a few minutes of tracing patterns on his back with your left hand. At first, his weight on you hadn't been too much but it seems that your gentle trails on his sweat-sticky skin have made him relax a little too much and let his muscle-thick frame lay heavier on you.

"Mmm, can we still cuddle?" He requests, making no attempt to get up though he does do his best to lean more onto his right elbow again even without lifting up from your shoulder.

"Of course." Though he still doesn't get off of you. "Are you going to move, Gyu?"

"But then I won't be in you," You can hear the pout in his slightly muffled voice, even if you can't see it. "You're all warm, s'nice."

"So you'd rather cockwarm than let me breathe easily?"

He hesitates then giggles when you tug on his ear with an offended gasp. "I'm joking, I'm joking!" He leans up entirely onto his elbow, freeing your torso from him. "I will always pick your health."

"I should hope so." He scrunches his nose at you playfully. You return it without hesitation.

Although he hadn't wanted to get up initially, Mingyu goes to the effort once off of you to go all the way to the bathroom, once he has disposed of the soiled condom, where he fetches a warm damp cloth and a dry towel to clean you up first, then himself. You expect him to return to your side but he saunters off again, allowing you to once again marvel at his exposed ass as he walks away, and returns with a couple of water bottles and an armful of snacks.

The water makes sense, you think, but the mass of snack packets is a little questioning so you raise an eyebrow at him while you shuffle to sit up against the headboard and accept one of the bottles. "What?" He innocently replies, putting the other bottle down on the side table to free his hand and allow him to set up the various snacks there too. "You said we can spend as long as I want in bed, I just want to be prepared, sweetheart."

And well, you can't really argue with that, nor his cheeky endearing smile so you just laugh softly and hand over the open bottle to let him swallow down some of the cool liquid himself before he climbs up onto the bed and wraps his arms around your body to hold you in the way you had both wanted for so long.

Later, when you both have your energy back and Mingyu is no longer constantly on the verge of cumming too soon, he presses you back down against his bed all over again so that he can see every expression on your face as he takes you apart piece by piece just to see how you work at your very core. He learns all of your curves and edges so attentively and allows you to learn his in return.

By the time you're once again laid side by side much later, tucked up in each other's arms tired yet sated, you're certain that somewhere along the way, your pieces got mixed up and Mingyu found himself a permanent home in your chest. He had taken a piece of you for his own and given you a matching piece of him in return.

You can't see it, but it feels an awful lot like his heart. Silently, with nothing more than a soft kiss on his shoulder, you vow to him that you will spend your life protecting it with everything in you. And you're confident that he will do the same with yours as his lips press to your head in return.

🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈🎂🎁🎈

A/N- don't forget to reblog if you enjoyed the story; it involved multiple moments where I almost quit so the show of support would mean a lot and motivate me to write more! & let me know what you think, that'd be grand too pls. I literally haven't written smut in years tho so be gentle on me I am babie <3

Happy birthday to the biggest babyboy 💋💖

#wkcnet #svthub #seventeen mingyu smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen mingyu x reader #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen mingyu fluff #seventeen mingyu f2l #seventeen mingyu friends to lovers au #seventeen au #seventeen mingyu au #seventeen mingyu fanfiction #seventeen mingyu fanfic #seventeen friends to lovers au #seventeen f2l au

1K notes · View notes

thriftedtchotchkes · 1 year ago

Text

you're a mean one, mr. miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and ellie decide the solution to joel's grinch-like approach to the holidays lies in finding him the perfect gift

warnings: jackson era, grumpy old man!joel, significant other!reader, fluff, mild angst, gift giving, christmas at the miller's, so many polaroids

word count: 3.8k

12 days of pedro masterlist - ty to @hellishjoel for organizing this project <3

The Miller household always gets a little tense around the holidays. When the days shorten and snow begins to fall, Joel throws himself into patrols and plans for winter-proofing Jackson, and it's all he'll talk about for months. It's obvious he does it on purpose.

Christmas is basically an unspoken no-no under his roof, and there might as well be a swear jar for the word if his reaction is any indication. He refuses to acknowledge it and only tolerates the day itself because he knows it makes you and Ellie happy.

You just wish it made him happy, too. You know it used to. Every year, Tommy regales stories about their Christmases in Austin as kids, and later with Sarah. Joel loved Christmas.

They used to visit the tree farm, pick the tallest, fullest tree they could fit in their living room, and decorate it the very same day. Their attic and even parts of their garage were home to lights and tinsel in every color you could think of, and ornaments Sarah brought home from art classes and the yearly holiday fair at school.

All of that changed after the outbreak. It wasn't just her passing that did it. It wasn't even the threat of death or worse lurking around every corner. It was time.

Joel just got used to life without it. After 22 years of missed holidays, he decided he didn't actually miss them at all. He couldn't afford to spare precious resources or energy on anything that wasn't necessary for survival. But that isn't the point of Christmas, is it?

You celebrate your loved ones and their joy. You celebrate life. Here in Jackson, he finally has all of that, but if Joel is anything, he's a stubborn man set in his ways. You can tell he's still resistant to the idea because he genuinely believes there are better uses for his time.

You can also tell he's afraid to let his guard down. You just haven't figured out a way to show him he doesn't have to be. No one's safety is guaranteed in the world you live in, but you're protected now. And that responsibility isn't solely on him anymore.

If you could give him anything for Christmas this year, it would be peace. One day, even just a few hours of tensionless shoulders and a wrinkle-free brow would be a gift for all of you. He deserves to enjoy something merry and cheerful again, just for the sake of it.

So, you ask the person who knows him best in the world for help.

"What do we think about getting Joel a Christmas gift this year?"

Ellie glances up from her guitar with the most incredulous look you've ever seen on her face.

"Depends. Do you have a death wish?" she jokes, draping her arm over her instrument so she's sitting more comfortably. She's settling in—you both know this is about to be a painful conversation.

"No, but—," you sigh, leaning against the door behind you. It's still chilled, even through your coat, from when you barged into the shed and interrupted her practice. "I don't know. He wouldn't make that big of a deal, would he? It doesn't have to be anything flashy, just something small. Something nice."

"So, you wanna get Joel something nice for a holiday he hates? That makes total sense," she says, rolling her eyes.

You don't appreciate the sarcasm, but you expected it. She knows as well as you do that Joel won't be thrilled by the gesture, if he even accepts it.

"El, come on. I could really use your help here," you try to appeal to the part of her that usually can't say no to you, and thankfully she's starting to cave. "If there's anyone who can come up with a present Joel will actually like, it's you."

She sighs. Her fingers drum an arrhythmic beat on the wood grain while she thinks, a habit she must've picked up from Joel.

"Look, Joel's not really a 'thing' kinda guy," she replies, and she's probably right. He's never been the kind of guy who has physical attachments. "When's the last time he actually gave a shit when something broke or got lost? Even his watch is broken."

"Yeah, but that's different. You know it's different," you counter softly. But you can see the point she's trying to make. "Okay, so we don't get him a 'thing'."

She nods, waiting for you to offer another idea, but you're even more stumped than you were when you got here.

"Maybe you can draw him something?" you grimace, grasping at straws now.

"His house is full of shit I've drawn," she deadpans. "Plus, I thought this was an us gift. That sounds like a 'me doing all the work' gift."

You let out a frustrated groan, and your head thunks dully against the door. You knew this wasn't going to be an easy task, but you thought it would at least be possible. Joel's a complicated man—it's one of the things you love most about him—but his wants and needs are surprisingly simple.

He loves a home-cooked meal, especially meat and potatoes. He enjoys cold beers with Tommy on the porch during the summer and walking Ellie through complicated picking patterns when she's stuck on a song. He likes relaxing on the couch and watching old Westerns or cheesy action movies, and craves your body, soft and pliant, under his after a frustrating day on patrol.

But you want this to mean more than any of that. A special something that goes beyond the norm to loosen some of the springs that keep him wound up tight and constantly in motion.

You glance around Ellie's space as your hope begins to dwindle, and the corkboard above her bed catches your eye. It's always been there, covered in doodled-on scrap paper and photos of her family and friends, and you're positive you've seen it hundreds of times since you've been in Jackson. But this time, it gives you an idea. The idea.

"That Polaroid camera you found in Eugene's basement—the one in the library. Does it work?"

Ellie's brows furrow at your sudden question. She clearly didn't expect it, but you're hoping she'll be on board once she finally catches on.

"Uhh, yeah, Cat and I were messing around with it the other day. Worked pretty well for us," she replies hesitantly, pointing at the entertainment console next to you. "It's next to the PlayStation."

Humming in response, you squat in front of the shelf to inspect it. It's in great condition, even better than you expected. Even the flash button lights up and whirs just like you remember.

Before she can protest, you whip around and snap an extremely candid, brightly lit photo of her. If the look on her face is the same one you just caught on film, then you're already off to a great start.

"Dude, what the fuck? What was that for?" she groans in annoyance, blinking the bright spots out of her vision.

"A scrapbook," you grin. "For Joel."

She's still glaring at you as she rubs her eyes, but she bites back whatever retort she was about to say. You watch her expectantly as she chews on the idea, relief blooming in your chest when she finally nods.

"I guess that could work," she says slowly, still thinking over the logistics in her head. But then she frowns. "When exactly did you plan on taking all those photos? Not to be a downer, but Christmas is in like, a week."

Damn, she's right again. It'll be hell in a handbasket to fill an entire scrapbook in that amount of time, and even if you manage it, it'll be a half-assed attempt at best.

No, if you're going to do this, then you're going to do it right. No rushed or slapstick presents for the man who already hates Christmas—Joel deserves better than that.

"What if we let Joel do his bah-humbug thing one last time? That's probably his idea of a perfect gift, anyway. Then next year, it'll be this," you hand her the fully-developed Polaroid.

It shows Ellie hugging the guitar Joel made for her, but there's no sign of the shocked annoyance that followed the camera flash. Instead, she's smiling. She has that rare, unguarded expression on her face, the one reserved only for people she trusts. It's a tender moment of peace, forever frozen in time.

She looks up at you, and you can see it in her eyes. She gets it, now.

"You do realize it's still a 'thing' present though, right?" she interjects playfully, and you have to resist the urge to grab the wood polishing cloth on the table next to you and swat her with it.

"Yeah, but it's a sappy thing. Admit it, Joel's a huge sap and you know it. You said it yourself, his house is basically a glorified fridge with your art magnetized to the walls."

She rolls her eyes again, but you can see the smile tugging at her lips. She knows it's true.

"So, you'll help me?" you ask, daring to hope that she'll agree.

"As long as you don't pull this shit again, I'll do whatever you want," she lifts the Polaroid, shooting you a dirty, but affectionate look before handing it back to you.

A grin breaks out across your face, and you bolt across the room to hug her awkwardly around the instrument still sitting in her lap. She places it down so she can wrap her arms around you properly.

Physical affection has never really been Ellie's thing but if you catch her at the right moment on the right day, you might get lucky. Today, you do.

"So, when do we get started?" she asks, pulling away.

"Right now," you reply, unable to contain your excitement. For the first time in over two decades, Joel Miller might actually have a merry Christmas, and that's something to celebrate.

"Now?" she gapes at you, looking over her shoulder longingly at her guitar as you drag her out of the shed. She barely has enough time to grab a coat before you're out in the cold with nothing but each other, a camera, and a plan.

"Now."

ONE YEAR LATER

Jackson in the spring is one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen, even among your memories of the world pre-outbreak. Snow remains on the mountain peaks in the distance, but the foliage below blooms with the promise of warmer weather. Somehow, you managed to capture it all—fresh flowers in the shop windows, friends and neighbors shedding their coats and congregating in the streets, and the post-winter excitement that spreads more and more with each sunny day.

You hid the stack of photographs in an empty jumbo box of tampons in the hall closet, positive they’d be safe from Joel’s prying eyes while you and Ellie continued your mission.

In the summer, two new foals were born, and Ellie and Maria spent almost every day at the stables to help out where they could. They even named them—Shimmer was Maria’s choice, and Ellie named the other Callus just to piss off Joel. Not only did it work, but it resulted in some of the cutest pictures of the season.

Joel and Tommy built a porch swing for Maria and their rambunctious toddler and spent countless balmy nights drinking Tommy's extra-strength whiskey and shooting the shit. They even broke out their guitars every so often and managed to bully Ellie into playing with them once or twice. You caught that on camera, too.

Slowly but surely, the memory box filled up, and the photos were transferred to a scrapbook you and Ellie made yourselves—with a little local help. One of the school teachers happened to be a former librarian with a bookbinding hobby, and graciously gave you a treasure trove of old, tattered books that were perfect for your project.

By autumn, everything was falling into place. Ellie adorned those pages with painted leaves in shades of red, orange, and yellow to complement the photos you took at the town’s annual Harvest Festival and Thanksgiving potluck. You hopped around from booth to booth, table to table, and thanked your lucky stars that Eugene was a hoarder and held onto every pack of film he found over the years.

Now, it's the night before Christmas and you have a single shot left. One last photo intended for the final page, but you can’t think of anything you haven’t already documented. Looking around Tommy’s living room, there are plenty of moments you’d love to capture, and yet none of them feel like the moment.

How the Grinch Stole Christmas plays in the background while you sit on their couch, curled into Joel’s side with Ellie’s head on your lap, but you’re barely paying attention, still lost in your thoughts. Joel isn’t paying attention, either—he was unsurprisingly averse to the movie to begin with—so when you don’t laugh along with everyone else at the Grinch’s antics, he immediately knows something’s up. He kisses your temple, careful not to jostle Ellie.

“What’s got you so in your head you’re not even laughin’ at Jim Carrey? I thought you loved this movie,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. His familiar Southern twang somehow warms you up more than the fireplace crackling next to the television.

“I do. I think I’m just getting a little sleepy, is all,” you reply softly, sagging into him. “Winter dance prep sucked this week. It’s like everyone conveniently forgot they volunteered to help.”

He nods, mumbling an apology into your hair.

“Guess that makes sense. All that runnin’ around you’ve been doing with that camera of yours probably ain’t helpin’ either,” he says offhandedly, and your brows furrow in response.

It’s not the first time he’s mentioned your sudden interest in photography, but with his gift sitting less than 10 feet away under Tommy and Maria’s Christmas tree, it seems more than a little suspicious. You catch Ellie glancing up at you in your peripheral, and you meet her gaze as discreetly as you can.

“Yeah, maybe,” you laugh it off, hoping it doesn’t sound as tense to Joel’s ears as it does to yours.

“What are you doin’ with all of those photos anyway? I swear, you take ‘em and then they disappear into thin air,” he presses on, none the wiser.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you joke, shaking your head as if that’ll shake off all of his incoming questions. But it doesn’t work nearly as well as you hoped.

“Y’know, I was wonderin’ that myself,” Tommy interjects from the recliner to your right. “You’ve been takin’ photo after photo for almost a year, and I don’t think I’ve seen a single one.”

Maria scoffs next to him, coming to the rescue before you’re forced to come up with a believable explanation.

“Mind your own damn business,” she smacks him in the chest, then shoots you a sympathetic look.

You asked for her help not long after you and Ellie started planning Joel’s gift, so she knows how important this is. The last thing she’s going to do is let her husband’s need to stir the pot ruin it. But Tommy’s not the type of guy to give in that easily.

“I’m just sayin’, might be nice take a look at ‘em. You probably got some good ones of the kids in there, ‘specially from birthdays and holidays—,” he manages to get out before Ellie cuts him off.

“Can you guys have this conversation somewhere else? Some of us are actually trying to watch the movie,” she sits up from her spot on your lap to glare in his direction.

Then, Tommy abruptly stands like something just occurred to him and strides across the room to the mantle above the fireplace—right where you set the camera down earlier. Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Hold up. This thing’s still got one shot left, don’t it?” he asks excitedly, and you’re not sure how to shut him down without drawing too much attention to yourself or sounding mildly hysterical.

“Well, yeah, but—“

“Oh shit, s’got a timer and everythin’,” he continues, fiddling with its limited settings. He turns back towards the rest of the group and holds up the camera with a grin. “C’mon, everybody get together. We’re takin’ our first official Christmas card photo.”

“But, Tommy—,” you try again, but you’re drowned out by Joel’s sad attempt to leave the room.

“Look, I said I’d watch the movie, but I sure as hell didn’t agree to take a damn Christmas photo,” he grumbles, moving to stand, but you latch onto his flannel before he gets too far. He softens at your downtrodden expression and settles back in.

“Just to be clear, m’doin this for her, not for you,” he amends his previous statement gruffly, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You kiss his cheek gratefully, and Ellie pretends to gag as she shuffles to sit between your legs.

“Whatever you say, big brother. All you gotta do is sit there and look pretty. Think you can handle that?” Tommy teases him, making one final adjustment to the camera's placement. “Alright y’all, here we go.”

He sets the timer, then runs to the couch, squishing into the only available spot between Maria and an armrest. Everyone huddles together with varying levels of smiles and grimaces on their faces while you wait for the camera to go off. Except, it doesn't.

“Wait, how long did you set the timer for?” you peer around Maria to see Tommy looking genuinely dumbfounded.

“…Does it not just go 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, shoot?” he asks sheepishly.

"Oh my god, are you kidding me?" Ellie groans, leaning back against you, and the entire couch bursts out laughing.

And in that moment, the flash goes off.

Yeah, this is the one.

The photo in your hands feels like the culmination of every memory you made and preserved in the past year. Five faces—and one tiny sleeping one—look up at you, fully developed and as happy as you've ever seen them.

Tommy and Maria sit side by side with their son in her lap, their heads thrown back in laughter. Next to them, Ellie sits between your legs, mid-knee slap, as you cackle with your chin resting on top of her head.

And then there's Joel, grinning from ear to ear as he looks on at the family he's fought so hard to protect. The family that's safe and sound, and enjoying an ordinarily special day, just for the sake of it. You can only hope that a book full of photos and everything it represents will be enough to convince him once and for all that it's the truth.

As you slide the final Polaroid into place, Joel sidles up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist.

"What's all this?" he watches curiously as you close the book and swipe your hand lovingly across the cover. Then, you pick it up and turn in his embrace, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

"A gift," you reply carefully, hugging it to your chest.

You glance over to where Ellie's still sitting in the living room, but she shakes her head and offers you a small smile, her delicate way of telling you that you're on your own. You take a deep breath before continuing.

"It's a Christmas present from me and Ellie," you explain, hoping to convey even a fraction of what this means to you. "Look, we know this isn’t necessarily your favorite day, but...we still wanted to do something nice for you."

He nods, his expression frustratingly unreadable. But then he does something unexpected.

"Y'gonna keep huggin' it or are you gonna show it to me?" he drawls jokingly, and your brows shoot up in shock.

"You wanna see it?"

His face falls, and you immediately feel terrible at the brief wave of hurt that crosses his features. You didn't mean to sound so surprised, but you didn't anticipate this easy acceptance.

"'Course I do. The two of you spent a whole year workin' on this thing, why wouldn't I?"

That grin you know he loves lights up your entire face, and you turn to place his gift back on the counter. Flipping to the first page, you step aside and let him explore it for himself.

He takes in each moment of each season slowly, running his fingers across Ellie's doodles between photos and in the margins. Spring is framed by butterflies that you're somehow just realizing are painted in all of Sarah's favorite colors.

Ellie added so many painstaking details you'd never talked about. You're not even sure how she knew something like that, but you're grateful it's there. Joel notices it too, and reaches down to take your hand, gripping it tightly for the rest of the book.

He's silent as flips through summer and fall, and when he finally reaches winter, you feel him begin to tremble beside you.

The last page sits open in front of you, the photo from earlier flanked on either side by notes from you and Ellie. As he reads, then rereads them, you can see the cogs turning. He's starting to understand why you did this—and how something as simple as a photograph isn't just a look back on a life well-lived. It's a reminder to keep living.

“This is…,” his brows furrow as he tries to find the words to express the conflicting thoughts racing through his head.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t get you anything," is what he ultimately settles on, but when he looks up at you, his eyes are wet. You immediately drop his hand to cup his cheeks.

"You didn't need to. I have everything I've ever wanted right here," you tell him gently, brushing away the tears threatening to fall.

You glance over at the familiar faces in the living room, the same ones looking up at you from the page below, and he follows your gaze. The tension in his body begins to bleed away the longer he watches them, and you learn the wrinkle in his brow isn't actually the permanent fixture it always seemed to be.

He reaches up to cover one of your hands with his own, and you can feel his heart racing through his fingertips. In the back of your mind, you wonder if this is the moment it happens. If his heart grew three sizes bigger today, and if he's finally ready to give himself the gift of peace.

“Merry Christmas, Joel Miller," you whisper, kissing him deeply as the sweet voice of Cindy Lou Who brings the movie credits rolling in the distance to a close.

thanks for reading and happy holidays!

dividers by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

633 notes · View notes

on-a-lucky-tide · 27 days ago

Text

Like You Mean It: A Nikprice Mafia AU

John is invalided out of the military and is struggling to adjust to civilian life, stuck in a cycle of poor coping mechanisms and denial. He gets sent to Chester by his younger sister to service a client that has scared all her other employees. Little does he know that the appointment will change the trajectory of his life forever.

cw: post-traumatic stress disorder, extremely poor attitude to his own disability, toxic coping mechanisms.

“How is the new hobby going? Painting, isn't it?”

Price frowned at the table in front of him, counting the rings of coffee stains. Four. “It didn't work out.”

“Oh, that's a shame. What happened?”

Price swallowed, his fingers twitching on his knees. He could tell the truth: that the inane, witless conversations had bored him to death, or that one of the women had started flirting with him and it had made him uncomfortable, or that the paintbrush had felt unwieldy and small in his hands, that it looked wrong there, or that he had lost his temper, overwhelmed by something he couldn't put his finger on, and thrown the canvas to the floor before limping out, or…

“It jus’ didn't hold my interest. ‘M sure I'll find somethin’.”

The therapist tapped her notepad with the end of the biro and studied him closely. She was one of the best, Mac had said. Worked with all the old boys that invalided out after a lifetime in the service. She helped them get back on their feet, navigate civilian life, and finally put to bed some of the ghosts they dragged behind them. Price had to give her a chance to help, which meant opening up some of those wounds he’d let heal badly over the years. Sally was nice enough, and he was trying not to let his own internal battles influence how he regarded her. Sometimes, she made that hard.

“How are the nightmares? Any better?”

“Yeah, they… uh, they don' happen as regularly.”

“When was the last one?”

Last night. “Coupla weeks ago, I reckon.”

She wrote that down. Price tapped his knees again and glanced at the watch on the table. She made him take his off because he had spent the first two sessions glancing at it. The compromise had been that she would set an alarm on hers. It was a brand new smartwatch, she said, it tracked her calories, her heart rate, had GPS. The kind of thing his watches had been doing for years, except his watches could call in an air strike and track enemy combatants across the field of battle.

The old one, that is. His new one just told the time.

Her husband had bought it for her, so Price had said it looked very posh.

“Have you given any more thought to the dating app we talked about?”

The watch beeped. Thank fuck.

“Whelp.” He clapped his hands together before rolling to his feet with a quiet groan, a combination of actions that he knew made him appear ten years older than he actually was. “I'll see ya next week then, Sally.”

She handed him back his watch and he slipped it over his wrist, before she placed the notes down on the table. Given that his eyesight was still sharp, he caught the words, ‘denial’, ‘withdrawn’ and ‘isolated’ amongst the scrawl. His jaw twitched and he averted his gaze. This was one assessment he didn't seem to be passing in flying colours. She gave no indication she had realised he'd seen. “Companionship, John. Even a friend that has nothing to do with the service. It will do wonders.”

“Right. I’ll… work on that.”

It was raining when he stepped outside, grey clouds stretching across the skyline in a dark, homogenous blanket. He almost skidded on a drain, his uneven gait prone proving more of a liability in the wet, as he walked across the car park, and he swallowed the resulting grimace even though there was no one around to see. He did it more out of habit than anything else; show no weakness.

When he slumped into the seat of his old Honda Civic, he sat in the mute silence for a moment, watching the raindrops tumble down the windscreen. His leg throbbed, the tight scar tissue pulling, tendons creaking under tension, and he looked down at his knee with a scowl.

It had been a building falling on him that had done him in the end, trapping his leg for seven hours while his task force dug him out. Ghost had dragged him out by his bitch strap, and then carried him to casevac, with Soap doing his best not to look at the mangled state of his captain's leg as he covered the rear. A miracle that he hadn't lost it, they said. That he hadn't been crushed completely.

A miracle.

So, now, he got to rot away slowly in a small, one-bedroom flat in Liverpool, with TV dinners and Coronation Street. He walked through the world numbly, like he was observing it from afar, through frosted glass. The only brief glimpses of feeling he got was when one of the 141 messaged him. Sometimes a picture, other times a text. They were few and far between. It wasn't that they didn't care. They were busy. He knew the demands more than anyone. The world didn't stop turning because Bravo Six had left the game.

That didn't stop him checking his phone every few hours, just in case he had missed a notification. Checking his watch so he could tell himself where in their routine they would be.

He did it now.

1400, Tuesday.

If they weren’t on mission, Simon would have the experienced operators running drills with the trainees. It was autumn, which meant the start of bad weather and low visibility environs. It was likely he would do a jump in a few weeks with full kit to test the development of their survival skills.

He glanced at his phone. Nothing.

With a deep sigh through his nose, Price jammed his keys into the ignition and turned. The old car choked into life, the engine ragged in the cold, and he clicked it into ‘Drive’. He was grateful for the bloody thing, really. Those first few months of riding around on the bus had nearly been enough to send him to an asylum, with screaming kids and the constant smell of piss from seemingly every person that sat down. When his GP had approved him to drive an automatic, he'd almost dropped to his knees to fellate the bastard in gratitude.

He didn't really track his drive home. Stopping at reds, giving way, flicking down the indicator as he turned corners. The streets, houses and people of Liverpool passed by in a colourless smudge until he was pulling into his car parking space and staggering out in the rain. It happened a lot; the disappearing into his own head. Like his brain was giving up without stimulus and switching into standby mode.

The lift was still out of order despite his numerous phone calls on behalf of the residents, so he turned into the stairwell and began the arduous climb to the third floor. Gone were the days when a phone call from John Price moved literal armies. Now he couldn't even get fuckin’ Bill from maintenance out with a screwdriver to fix the fuckin’ lift so Jenny, eighty years old and wheelchair bound, could leave to do her groceries.

By the time Price reached the top of the first flight, his leg was burning; by the second, he was breathless from pain, and by the third, his eyes were welling with tears. The pain from his leg seemed to burn through his entire body, clutching his chest in a vice, bile and nausea building in the back of his throat, and he was having to stifle the sounds punching from his chest by biting on his knuckles.

His hands shook as he extracted his front door key, and continued to do so as he tipped more than a single dose of his strongest painkillers into his palm, the kettle hissing behind him on the countertop as he slid to the floor. He didn't wait for the tea to brew, but necked the pills dry, crunching them down in between huffing deep breaths through his nose.

There had been a time after his injury that he had believed he would recover and return to the field. A small part of him still did sometimes, but all it took was a set of stairs to truly humble him, leaving him whimpering and shaking on his kitchen floor. Pathetic, weak. How far he had fallen. He turned his face into his palms and pressed the heels hard into his eyes.

When he looked up again, the room was dark.

Price latched a hand on the edge of the countertop and pulled. His bad leg was stiff, seized with cold and aching, and his right one was numb from where he'd been sitting on it. His stumbling efforts would have made for a great Benny Hill sketch, he thought bitterly.

Once he had set the kettle reboiling and a frozen TV dinner in the microwave, Price checked his phone. One message. From his sister.

Carol (16:00): How did the appointment go?

Price glanced at the clock. 1900. Bollocks.

Price (19:00): Good.

Carol (19:01): Three hours to write that. Nice one, John.

He sighed, smacking the top of the phone into his forehead in frustration, before typing out a response.

Price (19:04): We talked about the painting thing, some old missions, and she asked me about the dating app.

Carol (19:05): did you make the profile yet?

Price (19:06): what the fuck do you think?

Carol (19:07): stop being a miserable cunt and do it

Price (19:07): No one wants to date a cripple.

He didn't send that one. It read far too much like self pity and that just turned his fucking stomach.

Price (19:07): If I wanted someone nagging me 24-7 I'd move in with you.

Carol (19:08): Prick.

Price (19:08): Yeah, tthat'd be a fine thing.

Carol (19:09): omg 😭

Carol (19:11): Gary says you never text back about games night. Kimmy wants to see you.

Gary was Carol’s “gay bff”—her words. He’d been a godsend when her bottom feeder of a husband had finally pushed the old bill too far and got himself nicked for possession with intent to sell and GBH. Price owed the bloke a lot, because he’d picked up the slack where a big brother should have been. He was pretty sure Carol had tried to set them up once, which would have gone about as well as trying to get a Labrador to date a Persian cat. Gary would have shredded Price with his kitten claws in minutes.

Price (19:12): Depends on my shifts, boss.

Carol (19:13): Ok.

Carol (19:13): Don't give up on us.

Carol had saved him enough already. She had been the one to force him to retrain at college so he could work at her salon. Physical therapy and massage. Something to do with his hands that wasn’t killing people, she’d said. Besides, she wanted to attract more male clientele and his machismo would make them feel less emasculated about seeking support. He felt like there had been a hidden barb there, but hadn’t pressed. Price swallowed the lump in his throat and stared into his dark kitchen for a moment before he replied.

Price (19:14): trying

Carol (19:15): I know

Carol (19:15): love you big bro

Price (19:16): love you too, love to Kimmy.

He shoved his phone into his pocket as he poured his tea, taking it black despite the presence of milk in the fridge. That was at the other end of the kitchen and the pain killers hadn’t yet kicked in properly. His microwave meal seemed more or less cooked through, the steam searing his fingertips as he tugged off the plastic lid, so grabbed a fork and headed into the dark sanctity of his living room.

His flat had always been sparse, with basic furniture, a handful of books and family photographs. None of the ‘homely’ touches you’d expect of a home. In all fairness, he had never spent a lot of time here—only a few days leave if he’d been at a loose end. But even then he had preferred sleeping in Carol’s spare room, doing the school run in the mornings so she could have a less hectic start to the day, and making sure the house was clean, that there was something edible on the table in the evenings. Fat chance of that now. She didn’t need another deadbeat arsehole on her couch twenty-four hours a day. She’d done her time with that bullshit. So Price had only visited a handful of times since being discharged; once to take a look at a leak under the kitchen sink, and then to check the weird noise her car had been making when the temperature dropped.

Price slumped into the permanent dip of the right hand sofa cushion and took a moment to bask in the relief, tea and dinner hovering over his lap. Some days, he wanted to stay on the damn sofa and rot into it, but the stubborn streak that had managed to survive the last few months wouldn’t let him. He had to be doing something—anything—even if that was hobbling about the supermarket for Jenny while the lift was out of action. A last, defiant stand against the listless void left behind when they had taken the service from him.

He dug the clicker from where it had fallen down the side of the cushion and turned over just in time for the opening credits of Coronation Street, blowing over the heap of white rice and tasteless curry in front of his mouth. His mind faded out into white noise as he ate mechanically and knocked back his tea to wash the taste away. The episode hadn’t even finished before he was pulling the fleece blanket from the other cushion over his lap, eyes drooping closed. He checked his phone once more before he placed it on the lamp table for the final time.

The storm outside picked up a notch and Price felt it tremour through the old building, and he watched the rain lash against the balcony windows as fitful sleep dragged him under.

—

“This is Bravo Six in the blind; Watcher—ahh, Watcher, do you c-copy?”

Static.

”Kate… Kate, please… fuh-ck, Watcher, this S-six in—“

The rubble above his head moved. He held his breath. There was nowhere for him to move. Nowhere for him to run. It had taken an eternity to wrestle his arm free enough to get to his radio. If the rubble shifted now, it would crush him.

The pain was blinding. Like white hot pokers stabbing through every muscle. If he hadn’t been able to move his arm, he would have assumed his spine or neck were broken. Maybe both. He could feel his right leg, but not his left. Couldn’t even see it.

”Watcher, do you copy?”

Static.

”Kate, please… don’t let me die down here, don’t… please…”

His pleas were soaked up by the oppressive silence. The muffled, muted space that seemed to swallow his voice.

Suffocating nothingness.

Static.

He couldn’t move. Not an inch. His trap was closing in. Crushing him. Several tons of concrete and steel pressing down on his ribs, his legs. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t breathe.

—

Waking up felt like he was having to claw himself out from beneath that rubble himself, chest heaving, the neck of his t-shirt stained dark as he fought his way back to the surface. Early morning light was leaking through the balcony door, the spots of rain still clinging to the glass making the living room glitter like a disco ball hung from the ceiling. He lifted a shaking hand from beneath the fleece and smoothed his damp hair back over his head, mentally counting through the grounding exercises Sally had taught him.

Feel, see, hear, touch.

Like he’d been run over by a Challenger—his ceiling—phone alarm—blanket.

Price threw out a hand and managed to swipe his damn phone off the table. Cussing and snarling, he slumped onto the floor, fishing it out from beneath the lamp stand. He didn’t have enough energy to climb his way back onto the sofa, so he sat there once he’d switched the alarm off, staring into space. The world slowly filtered back in, his senses spreading out through the room, latching onto anything that connected him to the reality outside his head. Unfortunately, that also brought with it the constant dull throb of pain in his left side.

That last mission had been the final crack in a dam he hadn’t even been aware of. Over twenty years of difficult operations in the most inhospitable environs and his mind had soldiered through, unbroken, robust. Colleagues and friends had fallen before him, so he knew what post-traumatic stress disorder looked like, but it was something that happened to other people. Not him. Not in a million fuckin’ years.

But leave him trapped under some rubble for a few hours and suddenly every difficult experience, every interrogation, every period spent trapped behind enemy lines at their mercy, every close call, every fallen soldier, they all came flooding back like vengeful demons that had been caged in the pits of hell to tear off their pound of flesh.

The nightmares weren’t always the same. Sometimes, his subconscious decided to dredge up an experience from over a decade ago to torture him with. A few nights ago, it had been the interrogation that had left him with burn scars over his lower back. A month spent in an Al Qatala detention facility before Mac had extracted him. He hadn’t broken—had given them bloody nothing—and had passed the psych eval after that one with flying colours. Even the psychologist had been a little suspicious—impressed, but suspicious. Turned out all he’d done was squash it all so far down that it was invisible to a prying eye, and then managed to trick himself that he was just made of stronger stuff than average.

He was good at that though: keeping secrets. Pretending, manipulation, getting what he wanted out of people. Out of himself. It was no surprise that he’d got so good at it over the years that he had managed to dupe even himself into believing what he needed to get the job done. Stupid wanker.

Price scowled as he rolled to his feet, wobbling unsteadily at first as he regained his balance, before limping into his bedroom. He had a quick shower to wash the sweat off and threw on his gym kit. Just because his lower half was useless, that didn’t mean he couldn’t keep the rest of him in shape. The physio had told him to keep it light, that everything in his body was connected and his nervous system needed time to adjust, and he had nodded along.

Truth was, he liked the burn of it. It felt like punishment. A punishment that he could control. It was both proof that he was still, physically, worth something and a way to chastise the parts of himself that weren’t as strong as they used to be. John left the house just as his morning alarm went off.

He ignored the sideways glances from the reception staff as he limped through the automatic barriers, his car parked in the second row back because he couldn’t quite bring himself to use the damn blue badge the council had given him when Carol had completed the forms on his behalf.

This early in the morning, the gym was more or less empty. There were a few night shifters getting their end of day workout in at the squat racks, so Price dumped his gym bag by a bench in front of the dumbbells. The powerlifter to the right glanced at him as he grabbed 26kg for a warm up set, and from that point on he let his mind go blank. All that existed as he worked his way through his ‘push day’ was the burn in his shoulders, his chest, down his spine. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was in the gym in Credenhill, with Ghost grunting on his right and Soap pausing to take yet another selfie on his left…

His phone trilled.

He dropped the dumbbells to the floor at his feet and snatched it from his bag. He hated himself for feeling disappointment when he saw his sister’s name.

“Wotcha, love, everyfin’ ok?” He slumped back on the bench, spare arm dangling between his legs as the burn of the lift faded.

I know it’s ya day off, but I need a favour…

”Right…”

We’ve got a regular in Chester who needs a home visit.

”Oh yeah, cheshire set, is he?”

Nah, he’s… a foreign national. Scary bloke, actually. And that’s the problem, all the girls are refusin’ t’ go.

”Did he touch one’uv‘em?”

No, no. Nothin’ like that. He’s just… scary. Lives in one of those big detached houses, and he has loads of… well, they called ‘em henchmen. Said it’s like walkin’ int’ mafia film, John.

”If he’s so bloody terrifyin’, why not jog ‘im on?”

It’s… not tha’ simple, la.

Price’s hackles went up instantly. Not that simple could mean a hundred different things, but all the dots were joining up in a way that made Price want to load his M1911 before he drove over. “Why?”

Look, I… if ya can’t do, ‘ll go meself, but…

”Don’t you bloody dare,” Price growled. “I’ll go. Send me the time, the address, what his usual is.”

He heard her breathe a sigh of relief down the phone.

Cheers, John. I… I owe y’bevvy, yeah?

“Stop tryin’ to set me up with Gary, and we’ll call it even.”

Oi, I was jus’—okay, fine. Gary is off the Price menu.

”Carol, I swear t’…” He glanced over his shoulder as the grunting behind him had gone conspicuously silent and the brief moment of eye contact was enough to make him drop his voice. “Right. Forward me the intel, and—“

She chuckled.

”Wot?”

I will forward ya the intel, big brother. Love ya, see ya later.

Price stared at the phone in his hand long after it had gone black. The heat under his skin was adrenalin. He’d recognise the bubbling rush of it anywhere; the heavy drum of his heart, the tightness in his chest. Excitement.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, get a grip,” Price mumbled as he chucked his phone into his bag and returned the weights. It was probably some sweaty billionaire who fancied himself the bloody Godfather. Normal people—people who hadn’t spent their entire adult lives fighting real mobsters, crooks and war criminals—saw a grim face and a sharp suit and were easily intimidated. Price would scope the place out and gather some more information on whatever the fuck this arsehole had on Carol, and then he would fix the problem. He was good at that. Fixing other people’s problems. It let him ignore his own for a bit longer.

#captain john price #cod nikolai #nikprice #mafia au #long fic

95 notes · View notes

johnnylandslide · 2 months ago

Text

WoL Magic Cards Tutorial!

I'd made a custom Magic: the Gathering card of Johnny recently, and shared it in the Seafloor discord, and since there was a lot of interest in the concept I figured a tutorial might be nice so we have something to do while we wait for plugins to come back. Here goes!

Download CardConjurer This is the tool I use to make custom cards. It's just a web app developed by a college student; he got DMCA'd by WOTC so it's not hosted on the internet anymore, but you can still run it locally.

Just unzip the contents somewhere, and then run launcher.exe when you're ready. It should open up the app in a browser tab.

2. Navigate to the Card Creator

3. Pick out a Frame

Enter this search box on the right. We're going to be using the Nickname ("Godzilla") frames. These give us a small subtitle box below the card name that indicates what the Magic card's actual name is.

If you want to create a custom card instead, use the Borderless frames.

In the menu below, you should see the different colors of the borderless frames. You'll have to add three of these elements to the card: the text box, the card name, and the power/toughness box. Do them in that order, by clicking each element and then Add Frame to Card. If your card is legendary (or if you feel like it), use the Crown option rather than just Title.

You'll have to choose the correct color. If your chosen card is monocolor or >=3 colors, this is very easy since you can just choose that color or gold, but for two-color cards the process is slightly more involved. First, add the color that goes on the left using the Add Frame to Card button, and then add the right color using the Add Frame to Card (Right Half) button. Use the gold power/toughness box.

If any of the card elements get out of order, you can reorder them using the layers controls at the bottom of the page.

4. Import the card text

Navigate to the Import/Save tab, and type in the name of the real card you're putting your OC over. Select the specific version of it using the dropdown afterwards.

(For some reason, Firefox suggests completing this field with my credit card information. I think it knows more about Magic than it's letting on.)

After the card is imported, navigate back to the Frame tab, and click Load Frame Version. This will force the text on the card to fit into the frame set that's currently selected in the bar on the right, which should still be the Nickname ("Godzilla") from earlier.

We should have something closely resembling the real card in the editor, now.

5. Make it yours!

First off, go to the Art tab, and upload your image. Once it shows up, you can adjust it by clicking the actual card in the editor. Clicking and dragging pans it around, shift+clicking scales, and ctrl+click rotates.

Next, pop over to the Set Symbol tab and remove it, since this is your own card and isn't from a Magic set.

And now, go over to the Text tab to finish this off! Start by entering your card name into the Nickname tab.

If your chosen card name is too long and ends up clipping the mana cost, you can reduce the width of the text box with the Edit Bounds menu until it fits.

Next, go to Rules Text to update the name if the card refers to itself. I changed all instances of "Vadrik" to "Johnny". Since this card is really just to look at and not to play with, I also renamed the Day/Night mechanic to fit the Black Mage flavor even better. Feel free to get creative!

You can use {flavor} to add flavor text as well. I added the {lns} commands after some words to add line breaks to make the text blocks look better.

You can also edit the typeline in the Type tab, if the creature type doesn't match your WoL. Johnny is already a Human Wizard though, so I didn't have to do that. Technically this would be a mechanical change of the card, but since these aren't real cards anyway I think it's a valid concession to make. Just don't go abusing it if you actually end up printing these out LOL

6. Download the card image

Finally, head back over to Import/Save, scroll all the way to the bottom, and hit Download you card.

And you're done! There's obviously a lot more that's possible with CardConjurer, and tons of avenues for creativity. If you end up following this tutorial, or creating any other FFXIV-related MTG cards, I would really love to see them!

#ffxiv #gpose #mtg #tutorial #please feel free to tag me with your creations!

109 notes · View notes

luveline · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! i love all of the spider girl and miguel work you have ahhh may i request a writing where they finally make it official? and how miguel would react when the rest of the spiders start asking or are shocked that he’s openly being more affectionate with her in public :)

thank you for your request ♡ fem!reader

Everybody knows you and Miguel are together before you're officially together, but it's still a surprise for Peter B to find you both walking at a snail's pace toward the lab, hand in hand.

"Can you fix it?" you're asking, oblivious to Peter B's shocked silence. You're a spider —you know he's there, you're just ignoring him. You and Miguel both are.

"I'll get you a new one."

"I like my phone," you say, Miguel a lovey-dovey smile. You're always soft on him, even when you first met and he treated you like a pest. "It's the first present you ever gave me."

"Ah, and I've never given you anything else."

"That's not what I'm saying!" You swing his hand gallantly as you take a big step forward. Miguel is just tall enough to keep up without jogging.

"Then what are you saying?"

"I have, like, an attachment to it. The screen is smashed, not broken. I can get Peter KatKit to do it if you're too busy."

Peter KatKit being one of your friends from another dimension (where KitKats are called KatKits, evidently). Peter B can physically see the moment the idea, the subliminal threat, loads in Miguel's mind. Miguel grabs you by the waist, your giggly yelping echoing between the atrium walls as he puts his lips against your neck and says, "My schedule's miraculously clear."

You lean forward to escape him but Miguel follows, kissing and nipping at your skin if your breathless laughter is any indication.

"Uh, guys?" Peter B says.

"What?" Miguel asks impatiently.

"I'm here?"

"So?"

"So… You know. I can see you guys being gross together." Peter B shoves his hands in the pockets of his dressing gown. "Actually, it's kinda nice, but you guys like pretending you aren't all sick in love with each other. Figured you'd want a heads up."

"We're done pretending!" you say happily, leaning back into Miguel's chest. He accepts you with a straight face but his arms betray his agreement, wrapping around your front. "Miguel asked me to get married."

"What?" Peter B asks.

Miguel shakes his head.

"Nah, I'm kidding. But he did tell me he loves me and he wants to be with me forever."

Peter looks at Miguel, expecting a second head shake. He doesn't doubt that Miguel loves you, but he cannot imagine Miguel saying something so saccharinely sweet.

Miguel doesn't shake this one off.

You have the most smug, pretty smile on your face; you're glowing with how happy you feel, and Miguel isn't frowning for once, so despite any worries Peter B might have about your compatibility, he's thrilled for you.

"Well, congratulations, kids," Peter B says.

Miguel squeezes the crook of your arm. "Thanks, Peter."

"You're welcome. Y/N, I'm pretty good with tech. I could take a look at your phone if you want? Fix it up?"

"The position has been filled," Miguel says. He's definitely frowning now.

720 notes · View notes

bird-inacage · 6 months ago

Text

Love Sea Episode 10 | The Fight (Micro-expressions + Mini Meta)

Peat and Fort did brilliantly in this scene. I wanted to pick out some of their micro-expressions to analyse in more detail.

1 - Just after Mut tells Rak he loves him, he's visibly taken aback, he looks crushed and frantic and helpless - 'Why did you have to get your feelings into the open? Why couldn't we have continued to play house without me having to confront my feelings? Why?' Rak is confused and crestfallen as to why Mut has chosen to shatter the bubble they've been existing in. Why is this necessary?

2 - Mut can't help his frustration. He's decided to put all his cards out on the table, and still Rak is choosing avoidance, to deny, to hide, to escape. Mut's played along until now, but he's so sick and tired of it. His attempts to be fully transparent, always lead to a rebuttal, Rak's unwillingness to concede, to compromise. Mut's anger comes from a place of 'you leave me no choice'.

3 - You can hear the gears grinding in Rak's brain when Mut reiterates that he was never after the money. His mind is going into overdrive. He's questioning. He's thinking 'but this isn't possible'. Despite being aware of Mut feelings, he can't face them because it forces him to recognise his own. And he just can't, he's scared shitless and he just doesn't know how.

4 - Just after Mut says 'let me love you', you can see the intensity of compassion and concern flit across his face. He softens. His eyes are searching, wanting. He so badly needs Rak to open up to him fully. There's hope and vulnerability - 'please accept my love, please. I'm trying so hard, I'm trying. Give me something, anything.'

5 - Rak is fighting with himself. He's conflicted, guilty, torn that he's been put on the spot against his will. He's dealing with the realisation that he will hurt Mut, and he doesn't have the stomach for it. You can see the second he decides to muster up the courage, decides to do the cruel but necessary thing. In this moment, Rak's fight or flight response is telling him to choose himself, which means he has to hurt Mut instead. It's the only way. 'You forced my hand'.

6 - Mut doesn't often exhibit outbursts of hurt but he does here. He's incensed. Rak's callousness is insult to injury. 'Perhaps you were never capable of loving me, but don't throw my love for you back in my face'. I think Mut is also making a last ditch effort to emphasise that he's not going to change his mind. Once his feelings are out there, that's it. Regardless of whether Rak loves him back or not, it doesn't change how he feels. This is the power of his conviction.

7 - This is super subtle, but you see the light diminish from Rak's eyes. He almost goes lifeless from the inside out. He deflates. Any active turmoil that was there is now replaced by resignation, by acceptance. It's sinking in what he's done and the realisation there's no going back and he has to make peace with it.

8 - Mut's final retort is painfully self-deprecating, that little chin tilt of 'How foolish I was to think I could have nice things. You've just proved to me once again how asking for things only indicates how wildly undeserving I am. I know my place, and that's where I'll return to'.

#love sea #love sea the series #tongrak x mahasamut #rakmut #fortpeat #fort thitipong #peat wasuthorn #love sea meta #well done my boys #my brain is spinning #IM HELLA PROUD #both acting your little hearts out

112 notes · View notes

yanderefarm · 3 months ago

Note

I know requests are closed but 1. I need to write this down before it falls from my skull and 2. I just want to offer you this general concept for the brain worms not as a request.

Achilles is well and happy to be tortured, yes, but what if despite that(or more likely because he knows he'll get beat more) he is very resistant to being feminized. Gotta make him a pretty princess but he hisses and yells that he is a man and you can't change him. But no, no, it's not changing him, it's revealing his true self; a pretty little pet who is so obedient and feminine.

-🪼

god i love this idea so much. i love forced fem so much!!!

idk why achilles just makes me wanna go hard even when i shouldn't.

cw;; blood, nsft, torture, forced fem, non con undressing, humiliation

i really like nonsexual forced fem like i feel like if it was for sex they could at least justify it in their mind but forcing them to wear something around the house or out in public is so much worse. they can't justify it and they can tell themselves over and over it's for you but when you're not even looking at them it doesn't feel like it's for you anymore.

achilles got out of the bath and stared blankly at the lacey panties and pretty skirt you laid out for him. this wasn't right he was sure you had set out another suit for him. he raised his voice just enough to call for you but it seemed you weren't listening. he wrapped a towel around his waist and picked up the clothing. he came to find you in the living room. you were with a friend. it was one of your work friends who knew about your relationship with achilles but that did nothing for his embarrassment.

"why aren't you dressed yet?"

"i... i couldn't find my clothes."

"chilles i can literally see them in your hands."

his eyes darted away. you let out a heavy sigh and stood up. achilles instinctively flinched as you approached him but you didn't care instead you ripped his clothes from his hands.

"I'm sorry about him. he clearly isn't getting it through his head." you grabbed the corner of his towel and before achilles could open his mouth you ripped it off exposing his lower body to the open air.

"god you're so embarrassing." you didn't even sound amused just annoyed. "now get your clothes on."

achilles turned to leave, his face burning red, but you grabbed his arm firmly. you pulled him back to the middle of the room with an annoyed look on your face.

"i don't trust you not to wear what i gave you. put it on right here."

achilles swallowed hard, he couldn't bring himself to raise his head because the overwhelming embarrassment was too much.

"you-you have my clothes, sir."

"mhm. so ask nicely for them."

"may i please have my cloth-"

you huffed in annoyance, indicating he'd done it wrong but you didn't raise your hand to strike him. like you were so disappointed in him that he wasn't worth hitting. that hurt worse than the actual pain would have.

his breath hitched as he opened his mouth again to try and correct himself but you cut him off. "what should I hand you first?"

"th-the under-"

you huffed again.

"my-my panties... please hand me my panties,sir." it was the most humiliating way he could think to phrase it and it seemed to please you as you handed him the thin lacey garment.

achilles closed his eyes tight trying to pretend he wasn't getting dressed in front of another person. there was no pretending away that his cock had gotten hard even as he pulled the lace over it. you helped him out, fixing his leaking member into the slightly too tight underwear.

when he finally opens his eyes again you're holding up the skirt. underwear is one thing but that skirt is too much.

"please- i.. i don't want to."

you roll your eyes at that.

"do i have to put it on you" you sound so disappointed.

"i don't want to... I'm not a woman."

"why are you being so difficult? you're usually so well behaved." you look at your guest and then back to him with a scowl.

"oh. do you think he'll help you? do you think if you throw a little fit, act like I'm forcing you, he's going to help you? do you think he'll save you? do you need to be saved now, achilles?" every word you say is filled with venom. you must know exactly how much your words are getting to him, the way they make him feel guilty and disgusting. you even manage to look hurt behind all that anger in your eyes.

"no i- i- please.... i just don't want to b-"

"could you go wait in the car... im sorry about this." you let out a deep sigh. your friend leaves the room so it's just you and achilles.

as soon as you both hear the front door shut achilles attempts to open his mouth only for you to punch him in the stomach as hard as you can. you watch him crumple to the floor in pain as one of his wounds reopens. you kick him onto his back so you can climb over top of him. you sit on his chest with the skirt in your hands and all achilles can do is kick and flail.

"you stupid fucking girl. you embarrass me in front of my guest. you tell me-" you elbow him in another wound making him howl in pain, his legs straightening enough for you to shove them down. "you tell me no? and now, you're fucking fighting me."

you elbow him one more time to get him to give up his struggling. his body goes limp as he sobs underneath you. you make sure to pull his legs in the most painful way as you start forcing his skirt onto his body.

"you are a pretty girl. you're my pretty girl. and no amount of throwing fits or asking others to save you is going to change that. do you get that?" you yank his skirt up over his legs.

you notice that the wound you'd been elbowing has reopened and he's bleeding all over his shirt. he knows he's in so much trouble but all he can do is sob.

"im not a girl.." you hear him mutter through tears.

"you don't get to decide that. you don't get to decide anything." you slowly pick yourself off of him.

"I'll clean you up and change you since you're such a big baby. and when i get back from hanging out with my friends you're fucking in for it. maybe while I'm gone you can come up with how you're going to apologize."

achilles just laid there, bleeding and sobbing. everytime he tried to close his eyes he would feel a breeze over his legs and fresh tears would flow from his eyes. the humiliation of being forced to be your pretty girl was one thing but knowing how angry you were at him, how much he'd disappointed you hurt worse. he didn't want to be a girl he didn't want you to be angry at him and yet here he was. the old wound soaking his shirt and giving him a stabbing pain everytime he let out his shakey sobbing breaths seemed like a fitting punishment. of course that was for you to decide, not him.

you cleaned up his wound and changed his shirt in silence. when you pulled out the pink bedazzled shirt you gave him a look, daring him to say something but he didn't. you were clearly still angry at him but you treated him just as gently as you always did. he couldn't help but lean into your touch as you cleaned up his face.

"'m sorry..." his voice was small and weak.

you let out a heavy sigh before you picked him up with ease and brought him over to the couch.

"... i know you're sorry, sweet girl." he flinched at your words. "you were very bad, though. so when I get home you're losing all rights to boy mode. no more suits, no more he/him, no more achilles. I'll pick you out a pretty girl name."

he whimpered softly as his chest got tight.

"do you understand?"

"y-yes sir..."

"now say I'm a good girl."

"I'm... I'm..." he struggled to say it, his breathing ragged, but when he looked in your eyes he could still see the disappointment from before. "I'm a good girl."

"yes you are." you leaned in and kissed his forehead. "be a good, princess."

#replies #yandere oc #sub yandere #yandere x male reader #top male reader #yandere crime lord

129 notes · View notes

realitythroughthelensoffiction · 2 months ago

Text

Good Omens: on fate and reality

In season 1 of Good Omens, The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch play a vital role in helping to avert the Apocalypse. Anathema dedicated her life to understanding Agnes's prophecies and thereby helping to fulfill them. But in the final episode of season 1, when the package with the follow-up collection of prophecies arrives, she decides to burn them, because she does no longer want to live her life according to the writings of her ancestor.

This is interpreted by many as Anathema taking her fate in her own hands instead of subjugating herself to something that was foretold. But the fact that she burns the prophecies instead of studying them does not necessarily mean that she changed her fate. It is entirely possible that her life will still take the road that Agnes foresaw for her. Agnes probably even predicted the burning of the new prophecies.

The only difference is that now, Anathema knows that all the decisions she makes are of her own free will, while otherwise she would have always wondered what she did because she wanted it and what she did only because Agnes had prophesied it.

A further indication that people acting according to their free will does not contradict the idea of fate is God's Ineffable Plan itself. At the end of season 1, when the Apocalypse has just been averted, Crowley asks Aziraphale: "What if the Allmighty planned it like this all along? From the very beginning?" Aziraphale agrees that this might very well be possible.

So even though all the people involved made their own free choices, they could still have been acting according to a plan God laid out very long ago.

Conclusion No. 1: Free will and fate are not mutually exclusive.

However, it seems that some things can be altered. Adam as the Antichrist has the power to bend reality. He uses it to change the fact that Satan is his father and to bring back people from the dead, for example Lesley. When Aziraphale expresses doubt about Mr. Young really being Adam's father, Crowley says: "It is. It is now. And it always was. He did it."

So Adam did not only change reality for the present and the future, but also for the past. He was able to make things that had already happened undone.

Conclusion No. 2: In the Good Omens universe, reality can be altered, even retroactively.

And the ability to change reality does not seem to be limited to Adam. Another example, as Goldfarb Styrt (cf. p. 127; cited below) points out, is Crowley being able to get himself and his Bentley through the burning M25, while Hastur gets discorporated. Crowley simply imagines that everything is fine, and by imagining it, it becomes real. Goldfarb Styrt (cf. p. 123, pp. 126-127; cited below) also suggests that it might be the individual's interpretation of reality that matters.

That sounds really fitting to me. Because the Bentley is burning, no matter how Crowley imagines otherwise, and it explodes as soon as Crowley isn't concentrating on keeping it together anymore. And, as @indigovigilance mentions in this post, the people who witnessed the incidents during the attempted Armageddon, like Atlantis rising from the sea, still remember them, even after Adam undid everything again.

But Crowley and the humans interpret the aforementioned events in a different way than you would expect, and their interpretations have an impact.

In any case, reality and the ways in which it can be altered are important themes in season 1 of Good Omens. And season 2 contains hints that they might play a big role in the finale as well. The most prominent example of these hints is the recurring mention of the Book of Life.

I will go into more detail about the Book of Life in my next post, but the important bit for now is that by erasing someone's name from it, you create a version of reality in which "they will never have existed". So the Book of Life is another tool to effectively alter reality.

Conclusion No. 3: Reality and the possibilities to alter it are important themes in Good Omens and will be relevant to plot of the finale.

That's it for now. What are your thoughts on fate and reality in Good Omens?

Work cited: Goldfarb Styrt, Philip: Sola Fide. Ineffability, Good Omens, and the Reformation. In: Giannini, Erin and Taylor, Amanda (Eds.): Deciphering Good Omens. Nice and Accurate Essays on the Novel and Television Series, pp. 120-132.

@kimberleyjean

#good omens #good omens meta #the nice and accurate prophecies of agnes nutter #good omens 3 #good omens movie

62 notes · View notes

malfiora · 5 months ago

Text

Can't Get Enough

by captainBAEhab

Tags: GrayWing, getting together, previous DickKory, fluff, thirst traps

The first time they met was...less than stellar. Kori had been raving about her new boyfriend for ages and finally got to introduce him to the Titans during their annual holiday party. "You'll like him, he's from Gotham," he'd been assured.

Nightwing is curious – until in walks the princeling of Gotham, Dick Fucking Grayson. There's a blissful moment in which he thinks (knows) this is a mistake, but, nope, Kori is greeting him with a kiss and heart eyes. How had they even met? And what could Kori have possibly seen in him?

He watches to find out. Dick waltzes around, flashing his best paparazzi smile at the Titans and regaling them with ridiculous socialite stories. What's worse is that everyone else is actually charmed by this, if the faint blushes and waving hands are any indication.

When Dick finally makes his way over to him, he gives Nightwing a sweeping look and his smile tightens to a smirk. "You, I know," he declares. "My family's cleaned up enough of your messes."

And so Nightwing vows to hate the guy, even if the others vouch for him.

"Oh, c'mon, he was trying to be nice," Troia says. No.

"Yeah, isn't that just how Gothamites say 'hello'?" Beast Boy tries. Nope.

Nightwing gets the last laugh when Dick and Kori break up three months later.

---

Or so he'd thought. As fate would have it, night shift in Gotham falls to Nightwing one weekend. Batman and Robin are off world, Red Robin is on the West Coast, the Batgirls are on the other side of the world for a "mission" (read: vacation), and Red Hood won't return his calls. And apparently some upstart gang thinks it's the perfect window to kidnap a Wayne for ransom. But not just any Wayne, oh no.

Dick Fucking Grayson is sitting in the middle of a dingy room, gagged and tied to a folding chair. Nightwing removes the zip ties first and the gag absolutely last. As soon as he's able to, Dick pushes off the chair to stand but immediately falls back into it with a grunt.

"Whoa, take it easy," and Nightwing scans him for injuries. "Looks like your ankle is sprained."

"Doesn't matter, the girl –"

Nightwing raises an eyebrow. "What girl?"

"The other victim." Turns out, the upstart gang is more daring than they initially seemed and kidnapped two hostages. "I'm not leaving her, I gave her my word."

It's a bad idea, he should complete Dick's rescue before going back for another hostage, but Dick's eyes are burning with determination and it's crumbling his resolve. "Fine," Nightwing sighs, "hang onto me."

They hobble down the hall to another dilapidated room. Huddled in the corner is a girl, probably a preteen, with smudged glasses and a shock of red hair. She launches herself at Dick the moment she sees him and hugs him around the middle.

"Hey, Carrie," he says through a pained smile and he pats her head. "I told ya I'd come back for you. And I brought a friend."

Carrie peeks up at him and smiles. Nightwing crouches so he's level with her. "Hey, Carrie, my friend here's a little hurt, so I need your help. Is that okay?" She squeezes Dick tighter but eventually lets go and nods. "Awesome. I need you to go a few steps ahead of us and tell me if you see or hear anyone coming. If you do, make this signal with your hands." And he flaps his hands like a bird.

"Like this?" She imitates the gesture.

"You're a natural."

Carrie diligently checks around every corner as Nightwing supports Dick through the building. Either the goons all left or they get extremely lucky, but they don't encounter anyone, and soon enough they're free of the lair. GCPD arrives a minute later with paramedics, so Nightwing gives Dick over to the paramedics and calls it a day. But not before he watches Dick smile down at Carrie and offer his hand to her while they wait for her parents.

See, he's never seen this side of Dick before. Warmth, protectiveness, concern for someone and something other than his hair and his fancy clothes and gaudy cars. It's...weird and vulnerable and a little precious, and so now Nightwing is curious – what else is there to Dick Fucking Grayson?

Which, of course, leads him to Twitter. He scrolls through Dick's posts and retweets, just skimming, all the way back to when he first created it, just as part of his investigation. It's not obsessive if he's only looking, right? It's a patchwork of silly ramblings, vague political statements encouraging Gothamites to vote without endorsing anyone, links to interviews with various Waynes, and photos of charity events. Normal, even a little thoughtful. Must be Dick's PR team, right? Except that wouldn't explain the thirst traps.

There aren't many, but they're there, sprinkled into perfectly innocuous posts. Hashtag-no-filter selfies of him allegedly just waking up, post work out poses, fit checks in various dressing rooms, just there, for everyone to – FUCK.

He accidentally liked one of the posts.

And so now Nightwing is faced with a dilemma: does he un-like it and pretend it was a mistake? Or leave it there and act nonchalant? Dick is going to get the notification either way, and moment now –

"Well hello there 😏" comes the DM notification from @ not_a_dick_joke and nonononono this can not be happening right now. "Glad you liked the pic! But here's a more recent one" and sure enough Nightwing gets an alert saying he's got a photo.

Dare he? Should he open the messages to see? Well...a peek couldn't hurt at this point. Lo and behold, it's another thirst trap, this one of Dick with his shirt half unbuttoned and holding a sign with a scribbled 'to my savior' on it.

Nope. That's enough Internet for the day. Nightwing logs off of Twitter and considers deleting the app for five whole minutes before doing something more productive like polish his wingdings again.

---

And everything is fine for another couple weeks, in which Dick definitely sends more selfies and Nightwing definitely looks at them and leaves him on read and this is definitely normal and healthy behavior for both of them. Until it isn't.

@ not_a_dick_joke: is getting kidnapped the only way I'll get you to talk to me? okay then 😊

What...what does that mean? Holy fuck, is Dick Fucking Grayson going to get himself kidnapped just to get Nightwing to talk to him? That's just...(stupid/hot/crazy/sweet).

So naturally, Nightwing must check on him. He drops by Wayne Manor, onto a balcony he's seen Batman use before. Sure enough, Dick is there, waiting, elbows leaning on the balustrade. He grins when he sees Nightwing.

"So that did the trick, huh? I was wondering what I'd do to get you over here if that didn't work." And then he's tugging at Nightwing's wrist and pulling him inside the manor. "C'mon, I wanna show you something." He tossed a wink back at him. "Something I can't post on Twitter."

#don't ask me anything about this fic #i have no answers #title is a j cole reference because of the line “then follow your moves all week on twitter”#dick grayson #nightwing #parody fic

81 notes · View notes

tinykittendelusion · 6 months ago

Text

Seventeen as different tropes

a/n : I've gotten into a book slump again so i thought might as well try something that's going to make me want to read more :)

triggers: mentions of sex or sexual content or indicates sexual behaviour

Scoups

Workplace romance especially billionaire ceo romance where he falls in love with this girl from a small town almost like a typical hallmark movie. he gives very CEO vibes especially like business proposal kang tae moo he loves showering you with love and lots and lots of gifts.

Jeonghan

Opposites attract. I think it would be so cool if jeonghan falls for someone his exact opposite who looks like a troublemaker but is actually very innocent. It would be hilarious when at first she gets blamed for a prank he pulled making him apologise with lots and lots of kisses. Also she'd be the only person with whom he won't cheat while playing games?!

Joshua

good boy x bad girl. This is the reverse of the bad boy trope and that suits him so much Joshua is a very good gentlemanly guy until he isn't and then he's this crazy person and he'd naturally be drawn to people who take risks.

Jun

childhood friends to lovers. Honestly after watching exclusive fairytale I feel this is exactly his vibe he's a shy guy so he takes time getting comfortable and since you've known him since childhood he's the most comfortable with you. The comfort of knowing someone through all their stages of life and falling for them.

Hoshi

Enemies to lovers. Hoshi is a sweetheart that everyone knows but he's amazing at teasing people aka seungkwan in gose episodes so him having an enemies to lovers relationship makes so much sense to me. Also hoshi getting angry/pissed would be HOT.

Wonwoo

Aloof couple. Everyone except the both of you know that you both are dating. Together you both are dumb and dumber. After Hoshi accidentally ends up spilling the fact that wonwoo has a crush on you You guys would finally start dating. Both of you would be so shocked to know that the other person actually liked them too.

Woozi

Fated soulmates. Now listen to me woozi is a homebody just like me and sometimes I wish the love of my life would just come to my house and announce his existence. This is exactly what happens when you go to deliver fried chicken completely drenched in the rain and he offers you to stay and dry off before leaving.

Dokyeom

brothers bestfriend. He's your brother's friend so he should be off limits to you but he's so kind so nice and so caring you can't help but fall in love. He doesn't notice you until one day you drunk confess and then suddenly you're all that he can think about.

a/n: very much like the male lead in hidden love (c-drama)

Mingyu

reverse grumpy x sunshine. Oh he falls for the slightly broody introverted nerd. They literally collided into each other when Wonwoo dragged him to this one book convention. He was jealous of how close Wonwoo and you were. Which led to him confessing and you both dating. He absolutely adores the fact that your cute silly side is reserved only for him.

Minghao

hopeless romantic x skeptic Minghao was that person who did not believe in love at first sight cause how do you fall in love without knowing anyone that is until you walked into his life and caused him to fall literally for you. You loved this fact as you were a big romantic person. You'd often watch rom coms together and have discussions on the characters for hours.

Seungkwan

Academic rivals. YES YES YES

the banter would be off the charts. He'd be full on sassy boo who loves winning and y/n would be the same. They'd fight argue and insult each other but would be forced into spending time together and boom he's pinned you to the wall.

Vernon

Second chance. Yes the angst the pain the hurt the NOSTALGIA. everything vernon runs into you in seoul one day and it's decided that he wants you back bonus points if you have a child that he babysits and that child comes to adore him.

a/n: i think I have to cry vernon with kids would be so funny and cute and I WILL CRY

Dino

a/n: i absolutely adore these I lowkey might make all of these into longer fics.

best friends turned enemies turned lovers. the chemistry would be fire you'd both participate in a dance competition as kids but at the last moment you ditched him to dance with your crush years later you both hate each other and it gets worse when you are one of the background dancers in seventeen's world tour.

i made a longer version for dino- here

110 notes · View notes

flightfoot · 3 months ago

Note

Any fic recs of Adrien dealing with the fallout of finding out his dad is hawkmoth?

Oh yeah, this is a popular plotline and tends to lead to some great fics!

---

Bubblegum Soul by @wehadabondingmoment

"The impulse to throw away his ring, to slam it on the ground and watch its metallic splinters chap away at his soul, got more tempting by the second. Maybe, for a moment, he would learn what it meant to be alive." (Or: Hawk Moth has been defeated and Adrien is suffering more than ever. Armed with unhealthy coping mechanisms and the knowledge that he apparently isn't human, he embarks on a journey of self-discovery.) (Except that his father isn't quite ready to give up just yet.)

Poor Adrien. His father's defeated, but that doesn't mean that he's alright. Dealing with finding out that he's a sentimonster via his father attempting to order him around... that's harsh.

And it doesn't help that while he gets one ring back pretty quickly, he doesn't realize that he has a second amok...

If you like angsty sentiadrien fic, this'll be right up your alley! It's M-rated, but I'm not sure why. Maybe because Adrien's just kind of in a bad headspace?

---

Disintegrated Pancakes by @scribeofrhapsody

Adrien had started expecting the family breakfasts. He had NOT been expecting his father to collapse in the middle of one.

I’m shocked I haven’t seen more of this sort of thing, with Adrien finding out his father’s Monarch via seeing the Cataclysm wound. I love that Alya gets involved in this, being the person Adrien runs into after fleeing the room, and then Adrien getting to talk things out with Gabriel and Nathalie. Thankfully Gabriel is at least not completely incapable of being reasoned with here, or things could have gone worse than they did. It’s a nice little read, though with an ambiguous ending (at least at the time when I write this).

---

all of your flaws and all of my flaws (are laid out one-by-one) by @coffeebanana

Ladybug and Marinette have both been acting strangely since Monarch’s defeat, and Chat Noir would give anything to know why—to be able to help them. He just…didn’t expect his answers to come when Ladybug drags him to his father’s statue in the middle of the night along with a bag full of spray paint.

If you felt unsatisfied with Adrien being left in the dark about Monarch, with Ladybug lying about Gabriel being a hero, this is a great fic to read. Marinette’s breaking down keeping this secret, seeing people treat Gabriel as the hero she told people he was, until she finally snaps and has to do SOMETHING, has to tell SOMEONE the truth.

Which Chat takes pretty well! He knows how persuasive his father could be, and he’s mostly just relieved at finally hearing someone say that Gabriel wasn’t a hero. It’s still a lot to cope with though.

---

Of Crisp Days and Crispier Cakes by @scribeofrhapsody

Gabriel wants to not be sick. Adrien wants to make a cake. Nathalie wants a chill birthday. Maybe they can help each other. Maybe it’ll be a disaster.

So this starts off as just the cute fluff fic of Adrien and Gabriel attempting to make Nathalie a birthday cake that the summary indicates, but soon evolves into a more action-filled drama fic when Gabriel makes the terrible decision to akumatize a cashier while sick… a cashier who happens to be in the same shop as Nathalie and Adrien. Who are willing to put their secret identities at risk in order to save each other.

---

After Irritation Do Us Start by @scribeofrhapsody

It was the most difficult decision of his life, but Gabriel did it. He let go of Hawk Moth. He moved on from Emilie. Now, all he wants is to enjoy life with his son and new wife. Unfortunately, a certain nephew of his seems to be determined to unearth what Gabriel needs to remain buried.

I love this look at what could have happened if during the season 3 finale, Gabriel had decided enough was enough and given up on being a supervillain, moving on with Nathalie instead. How much better things could have been if he’d just decided to stop - though Adrien still wouldn’t be happy to discover why Hawk Moth had suddenly stopped attacking.

Oh yeah, there’s an OC here called Gerald who Adrien’s puzzled by, since he’d never heard of this guy before the past year. At the end of the story you find out why he’s included in the story. It’s not a major thing, but it is kind of funny and fits well with the rest of the story.

---

Family by @unecoccinellenoire

“You know,” Nino grins, “if you need advice on being a big brother in a year or two I’m sure I could help.” The bottom of Adrien’s stomach dropped out. — Adrien struggles with the concept of his father and Nathalie having children.

So this is a world where Adrien and Marinette managed to defeat Gabriel, taking his Miraculous, with them giving him an ultimatum: they won’t out him as being Hawk Moth so long as he doesn’t cause any more trouble and does right by Adrien. Gabriel does, in fact, move on finally to Nathalie, giving Adrien a lot of mixed feelings to deal with. He still loves them both despite everything, but he’s also angry at them and he definitely does NOT want them to have children, both because he thinks they’d like any biological child they had more (he’s also harboring guilt from indirectly being the cause of his mom’s death), and because frankly, they screwed up too much with Adrien for him to want them to inflict that on another child.

And then there’s also Adrien dealing with the realization that he’s a Senti on top of that and wondering why he and Felix look the way they do, what Emilie’s reasons were.

It’s mostly just Adrien getting to talk things out, navigating this emotionally fraught situation he finds himself in now that the dust is settled.

----

and I thought I heard you sing by @into-september

When Hawkmoth has been defeated and unmasked, Marinette is left with two problems and no solutions. First, that Adrien is further out of her reach than ever before, and no-one can tell her how to get to him. Second, that Cat Noir is far more troubled than she knew, and the only thing she can do is wait for him at the place they agreed to meet.

It’s your classic “Hawkmoth’s defeated and taken into custody but that means Adrien’s in for a rough time” sort of fic. Everyone’s worried about Adrien and wants to give him what comfort and support that they can, but he’s being hidden away from everyone (which I mean, honestly that’s a good move), so that’s not really possible. Plus, Ladybug’s noticed that Chat’s having a tough time in his civilian life, which worries her.

---

If only I could break free by megetstoread

It started with Adrien being upset about going away, but led to a lot of revelations.

Another Sentiadrien fic here! After telling Adrien that he’s being sent to London, Gabriel takes advantage of Adrien being distraught to akumatize him. Luckily Ladybug’s right there and deakumatizes him before he can even do anything, but it shakes both her and Chat, leading to her allowing him to tell her a lot more about his home life than usual, and for her and Adrien to investigate to see whether there might be more to Adrien’s inability to stand against his father than just psychological abuse.

---

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.

---

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).

---

Not a Monster at All by @book-sandwich

Adrien Agreste overhears a conversation he shouldn't, and a revelation sends him falling onto the terrace of the only person he can trust: his good friend (?) Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Takes place sometime after the first two episodes of season 5!

As you can probably guess from the title, this is a Sentimonster Adrien, Monarch takedown fic. Adrien’s going through a tough time, and Marinette’s just trying to be there for him as his whole world’s collapsing around him. Unfrotunately, they still don’t know what the object is, or how likely Gabriel would be to control Adrien if he hinted that he knew the truth, which leaves Adrien in a precarious position - still not having done an identity reveal doesn’t help matters.

It’s a really solid fic for the genre, though since it started up before the later parts of season 5, there are a few things that don’t match up with the canon information we obtained later on.

---

Under Oath by @eoscenes

In the aftermath of Hawk Moth's defeat, Ladybug finds her heart torn between her schoolgirl crush and her superhero partner ― who returns, after an unexplained hiatus, more irresistible than ever.

⋆☆⋆

Gabriel Agreste is unmasked, and Paris rises up in the aftermath.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng must weather Paris' anxious protesters, ravenous reporters, a scattered team of judiciary investigators, and her conflicting feelings for two different boys. In the eye of this storm is the elusive Adrien Agreste, the primary witness in his own father's trial, who might just hold the secret to finding the Peacock Miraculous.

(If only she wasn't in love with him.)

Meanwhile, locked away in Le Grand Paris hotel, Adrien grapples with his responsibilities to a city that can't decide if it hates or loves him. Keeping his daytime persona and Chat Noir separate entities becomes even harder when Ladybug, whom he has finally decided to get over, starts visiting him at night, determined to figure his secrets out.

(If only he wasn't in love with her.)

When an unknown figure returns with the Peacock Miraculous, Ladybug and Chat Noir will have to save their city once more — or lose each other trying.

I love how this fic shows Adrien just breaking down over the reveal of Hawk Moth’s identity, he’s in a Very Bad Place for a substantial portion of the fic, and being a suspect and witness in the case does NOT help. It’s got the most detailed “Adrien suffering the consequences of the backlash to his father’s prosecution” plot that I’ve seen.

Still, things get better with time, slowly, gradually. It’s not all at once, or a completely linear road, but he’s got his friends, even after everything.

---

run boy run by Anonymous

Nino was sprawled on the floor of his room with Alya when his phone chimed, in the quiet of a premature autumnal sunset. It was one of those lazy evenings that had become rare lately. Contrary to popular belief, he and Alya could get studying done when in the same room, and he was elbows-deep in late assignments, which meant his phone was on Do Not Disturb, which meant the notification could only have come from one person. ADRIEN 🐈: cmoe ove rnow ADRIEN 🐈: like riggt now ADRIEN 🐈: plag NINO: that is literally incomprehensible NINO: wait is that you plagg ADRIEN 🐈: mov faster

So this is a “Adrien finds out that his father is Hawkmoth and consults with Nino about what to do” fic, with Nino throwing Hawkmoth off Adrien’s track, though inadvertently at his own expense. Love Nino’s perspective here, and I always enjoy a good Hawkmoth-takedown fic!

---

When the Morning Comes by @into-september

Gabriel Agreste has been unmasked as Hawkmoth, and the girl who was fighting him all these years turns out to be Tom Dupain's daughter. And standing between them is Adrien Agreste with his life in shatters that Tom Dupain has no way of piecing together. But baking is at least a place to start.

I love how this not only digs into Adrien’s character, but Tom’s as well, especially how both of them have been estranged from their fathers. I haven’t seen that come up much.

---

missing person (at the window) by @coffeebanana

Adrien expected to spend another night staring at the ceiling and ignoring his friends' messages, as he'd done every night since his father was unmasked as Shadow Moth. But when Ladybug falls through his bedroom window, he gets a little more than he bargained for.

---

This Distance Between Us by @coffeebanana

After defeating Monarch, the search for the Peacock Miraculous brings Ladybug and Chat Noir to a hotel room in London. But it's hard to enjoy the victory when Ladybug can't figure out why Chat's been so quiet, why he seems so sad. How's she supposed to help if she has no idea what's wrong?

This is a great Sentiadrien fic, with Chat freaking out about it and feeling like he’s not worthy of Ladybug’s affections, but not telling her what’s actually wrong because he thinks she won’t want him anymore if she knows. Of course, he’s wrong about that. Also there’s a pretty intense confrontation with Felix, pissing Chat Noir off is a bad idea.

---

Waiting series by @11jj11

First fic: Waiting

Every night Ladybug sat atop the Eiffel Tower, waiting for her partner.

---

Temporary Place To Stay by walkingonthestars

Caline Bustier hears the news. Caline Bustier worries about her student, whose father has just been exposed as Hawk Moth and arrested. Caline Bustier impulsively takes in said student. Caline Bustier does not know the half of what she's just gotten into.

#adrien agreste #gabriel agreste #ask #ml fanfic rec #miraculous ladybug

57 notes · View notes