#Zone Shops Au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

familyvideostevie · 4 months

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it's your turn for choosing

this was born out of a prompt request from my dear, dear, @softlyspector. this is for you, becca!

getting asked out via a smudgy scribble on a coffee cup | valentine's day prompts

joel miller x reader

summary/warnings: joel stops by your coffee shack every day. it's not your fault you're a little in love with him because of it. | modern au, fluff, flirting, jesse and cat and ellie cameos, game!joel in my head. i have not been a barista so sorry to all baristas if this reads wildly off-base. | 5.6k

a/n: it's giving rom-com! happy valentine's day. a bit different from my usual fare but hopefully it makes your heart warm. love u. thank u always to @macfrog and @bageldaddy for your eyes.

___

7:32 am. It’s helpful in this line of work to know exactly when you’re fucked.

The espresso machine has been on the fritz all week and despite how much you want your current method of fixing it to work – banging a fist on the top until it stops wheezing – all signs point to today being a very bad day indeed.

You’ve only been open for two hours.

Here for three, awake for four. God, you’re tired.

Anyway – you’re fucked. And there’s nothing you can do about it.

You call the time of death on the machine and search for something you can write on.

The Zone – a stupid name, but you can’t be bothered to change the sign that came with the place – is a coffee shop that sits between towns.

Your coffee shop.

It's more shack than shop, not really a zone of anything, just an order window and a five-drink menu. It's the kind of place that appears like a mirage for tourists right before they get on the highway at an ungodly hour and serves as a quick stop for everyone else. You open earlier than any other place around to get the truckers and the farmers and close when you stop being able to keep your eyes open.

The faded brown clapboard building is no bigger than an RV. The paint is chipped and the roof is a too-bright shade of green and you serve your drinks and the occasional sweet treat when you can get a good deal off of the baker two towns over through a window. It’s not a fancy chain, it’s not a drive-thru. You’ve got a bathroom and a few rickety cafe tables and chairs and no fucking common sense since you like it.

You even love it, some days.

And the craziest part is that it works. Even on mornings like this one, when your espresso machine breaks during the lull between rushes and your part-time help calls in sick and you’ve spilled coffee all over your apron twice – it works.

You tear off the lip of a cardboard box and write in big block letters: NO ESPRESSO TODAY. Maybe Tess, the baker, knows someone who can fix it. She knows everyone.

“Fuck you, you piece of junk,” you say. You give the machine another smack for good measure.

Someone clears their throat and you whirl around, makeshift sign in hand.

You’ve been doing this long enough that a handsome customer doesn’t phase you, but the man standing at your order window makes your stomach swoop for just a second.

“Morning,” you say, summoning your smile. “Hold on a sec, let me just –”

You lean out the window and wedge the piece of cardboard against the napkin holder on the ledge.

The man’s gaze drops to read. You take the opportunity to look at him.

He’s tall and broad – if you had to guess, you’d say he works on one of the farms around here. He’s tan, dark hair threaded through with grey. His arms are crossed and you wish he wasn’t wearing a jacket so you could see his forearms. His denim shirt is undone at the top and you fixate on the chorded column of his throat, on the teasing glimpse of chest hair underneath.

The guy looks tired.

Bone-tired, the kind of exhaustion you see when you look in the mirror. It comes from hundreds of early mornings and late nights, from hours on your feet and plenty of worry. He’s got lines at the corners of his eyes and a few around his mouth and you find yourself hoping they’re from laughter.

“No espresso,” he reads, slow and unhurried. His drawl fits in with most of the folks around here, but you’re sure you haven’t seen him before. You’d remember.

“Hope that doesn't scare you off,” you say. “Still got everything else.”

“Everything else being…” He glances at the chalkboard that serves as your menu.

DRIP COFFEE. LATTE. CAPPUCCINO. TEA. HOT CHOCOLATE. All written in your blocky hand in white paint.

“Three options.”

Trial and error have taught you that simple works best. You’ll make anything people ask for, so long as you know how and have the supplies, and if they’re nice about it you won’t charge too much extra.

“Can I get you one of those three options?”

You’re not trying to rush him, but the next wave of people is bound to show up any minute.

“Black coffee will do,” he says. His mouth tugs up at the corner into a smirk that makes your face feel hot. “If you have that.”

“Thank you for taking pity on me,” you say, going for teasing and missing the mark by a mile. You just sound tired and genuine. “You just made my morning.”

He looks amused and you turn from him, unable to hide your grin. You pour a steaming cup and snap the lid on.

“Pretty shit morning if this is makin’ it,” he drawls.

You hand him the cup and your fingers brush.

“You have no idea.”

He eyes the sign again and then your stained apron. “I got some notion.” He tugs his wallet from his back pocket and pulls out a $5 bill. “Keep the change,” he says.

You want to refuse, to thank him, but a few more cars pull up and Mr. Black Coffee just raises his cup to you and heads back to his truck.

Well, shit. You hope he comes back. A tipper like that, and hot? You sure wouldn’t mind if he became a regular customer. __

You call Tess that afternoon and she does know a guy, so the espresso machine gets fixed and things go back to normal. Your part-time help returns in the morning and nothing else breaks.

Today is uncharacteristically warm for the season. The inside of The Zone is almost stifling, always at least 15 degrees warmer than outside, and you keep wiping your sweaty hands on your apron as you make espresso after espresso for the lunch crowd.

Cat, a spunky girl who likes to practice her latte art when it’s slow, takes orders at the register. You keep half of your attention on her and half on the four drinks you’re working on.

“Black coffee, please,” someone says to her. Someone whose voice you recognize.

“Can I get a name for that?” Cat asks. It’s busy enough that calling names is easier than calling orders, no matter how small your menu is.

“Joel,” he says. You let the milk steam on its own and pour the black coffee before Cat can do it.

“I’ve got it,” you tell her. “Can you finish up those drinks?”

She shrugs and you swap places. You know you’re sweaty and coffee-stained but you smile at him and hand over his coffee.

“Hot coffee on a day like this?” you tease. He – Joel – is sweaty, too. The collar of his work shirt is dark with sweat and his hair is a mess. He must be here on his lunch break. He takes the cup from you and slurps a long sip as a reply to your question.

You laugh. Joel looks pleased.

“Operatin’ a full menu, I see,” he says, pulling out another $5. “Glad you got it fixed.”

“It’s still a piece of junk,” you shrug. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that.”

He waves off your offer of change and raises his cup at you, taking a few steps backward towards his truck.

“Thank you,” he says. He eyes the tag on your chest and tacks your name on at the end. It sounds good from his mouth.

“Bye, Joel,” you say. His lips twitch but you barely have time to think about it before you have to take the next few orders.

The line dies down and you step away from the register to help Cat with some cappuccinos – your least favorite drink by far due to all the damn foam they require – and she eyes you.

“Dude,” Cat says. “What the hell was that?”

If it wasn’t already a billion degrees in here you know your face would feel hot.

“What the hell was what?”

She can’t reply for a few seconds while you grind beans for some espresso.

“I didn’t even know you knew how to flirt,” she muses, tapping a frother full of milk a few times. “That was pretty bad flirting if you ask me –”

You turn the grinder on again to drown her out.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you yell. She rolls her eyes at you until you turn off the machine.

You tamp down the grounds and slot them into the machine.

“I mean, not my type at all, for like, so many reasons,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “Way too old for me, for one. Man, for another. But I see the appeal, I guess. Seems like he likes you. And was that a five-dollar bill? Black coffee is two bucks, last time I checked –”

“Can we get back to steaming milk, please?” you snap, more embarrassed than mad. “I am not taking flirting advice from a teenager.”

“I’m twenty!” she sputters. “Wait, so you admit that you like him?”

“Milk.”

Cat is right, though, and you know it. You just don’t see any harm in having a crush on some guy who comes to your coffee shop. Running this place means you see hundreds of people every day. You know their names, you ask them about their kids and their pets and their jobs, and you smile at them even on your bad days. It’s just part of the job. The daily interactions keep you afloat, make you feel more solid in your own life. People see you, they recognize you, they know you – even if it’s just because you make them coffee.

Maybe Joel will keep coming back. Maybe he’ll become one of the regulars you know things about.

And if you have a crush on him?

No harm done. He’s nice to look at.

And he tips well.

Joel stops by again.

And again.

He comes in every morning – sometimes at lunch – and orders the same thing. You learn the rumble of his truck by ear alone, the crunch of his boots on the gravel. Sometimes people in line say hi to him and a smile works its way onto your face on instinct when his voice reaches your ear. It’s never slow enough to have a proper conversation but he smiles at you, tells you he likes the flowers, your new apron.

All of it is flirting but maybe not flirting.

Maybe he’s just being polite.

Also, he keeps overpaying.

One day, almost a month since you first saw him, he doesn’t come in the morning. When you don’t see him in line at lunch, either, you’re a little disappointed. The weather is perfect – not too hot, not too cold, the sun shining – and you want to see him in the sunlight.

The day crowd is long gone and you’re only an hour or two from closing when his truck pulls up.

“I was getting worried,” you call as he walks over. Usually, he’s got some kind of dust or paint or something on them – Joel is a contractor, you’ve learned through your brief encounters, not a farmer – but today his clothes are clean and un-ripped.

“I’m honored,” he says.

You have his cup ready by the time he reaches the window.

“I’m just surprised you can get through the day without a cup of coffee.”

He snorts and hands you his cash.

“I can’t,” he says. “Had shitty home brew this morning.”

He takes a sip of your coffee and sighs. Your heart picks up and you don’t hide your grin.

“What’s with the schedule change?” you ask.

He smirks. “Miss me?”

You scoff and cross your arms. Heat rises in your chest and you feel almost giddy.

“Just curious,” you say. “Don’t let it go to your head, but you’re my favorite customer.”

Joel laughs and scratches the back of his neck.

“Reckon that’s the tip.”

“Actually, ordering a cup of black coffee is the way to any barista’s heart.”

Joel’s eyebrows climb up his forehead.

“Ah,” he says. He takes another sip, his eyes dancing with mirth. “‘Course.”

“Nah,” you say with a teasing smile. “I’d never be so shallow.”

There’s no line behind him but you expect him to go back to his truck, anyway. But here he is. Talking to you.

You grab a rag and wipe down the counter to keep your hands busy.

“I’m, uh. Meetin’ one of my kids here,” Joel says. The sudden shyness that accompanies his admission is a surprise.

Your eyes dart to his hand but you see no ring, nor the pale shadow of one.

“Both of ‘em moved to the city recently. Ellie – she’s comin’ up for the night.”

“I’ll bet you miss them,” you offer. You’re not sure why he’d want to bring his daughter to your coffee shack, but you’re not complaining.

Joel smiles at you. It’s a sad smile but still a good one. The affection in his eyes is raw.

“Sure do,” he says. He tucks one hand in his pocket and takes another sip of his coffee. “But it’s good for them. Sarah – she’s a little older – is in school and Ellie is workin’ on her music and whatever else she’s into these days.” The pride in his voice is clear.

“Well, I’m honored you want to bring her here.” You gesture to your slightly sad sitting area and the empty lot behind him.

Joel looks ready to argue with you when a faded, older version of his truck pulls up. Music leaks from the open windows and the driver bops her head to the beat a few times before shutting it off and hoping out, thumbs flying on the screen of her phone.

“That’ll be her,” he says drily. “Hey, kiddo.”

Ellie looks up from her hands, tucks her phone in her back pocket, and grins at Joel.

She doesn’t look a thing like him, but the connection is obvious. She moves like him, her shoulders set like she’s ready for a challenge at any moment. Joel sets his coffee down at the window and meets her halfway for a hug.

You look away and busy yourself with restocking whatever you can get your hands on.

“Dude, you come here every day?” Ellie asks. “Joel, this is so far from –”

Joel talks over her.

“Drive go okay? Sarah said they’re doin’ shit on the 35 –”

Ellie huffs.

“Yeah, yeah, some traffic getting out of the city ‘cause of the fucking lane closure, but otherwise fine.”

“Good.”

You turn to face them, a genuine smile firmly in place.

“Hi,” you say. Joel picks up his coffee again, which Ellie eyes with a scowl. You introduce yourself to her. “You’re Ellie, right? I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Ellie frowns. Behind her, Joel’s mouth twitches but he says nothing. It’s a lie, obviously, but something tells you he doesn’t mind and she believes it.

“Really?” She throws him a glare and then rolls her eyes. “You gotta stop telling strangers about me, man.”

“Someone’s gotta warn ‘em,” he says.

She laughs. “Hey, fuck you!”

“Only good stuff,” you say. You like her. “Joel says you’re working on your music?”

Ellie’s eyes light up. “Oh, yeah,” she says. “I’ve got an audition next week.” She turns to Joel. “I brought my guitar ‘cause I have a fuck ton of songs to play for you.”

He puts a hand on her shoulder and she settles a little.

“I bet they’re real good.”

Ellie flushes and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well. You have to hear them first.”

You feel a little off-balance again, like you’re on the fringes of something you shouldn’t be seeing. The love on Joel’s face is clear as day.

“Do you want some coffee?” you ask her.

Joel winces. Ellie gags.

“No offense,” she starts, eyes darting between you and Joel. “I know Joel is fifty percent coffee on a good day, but it’s not my thing.” She looks at the menu and narrows her eyes. “I had a mocha the other day and didn’t hate it. Do you make those?”

“Look at that,” Joel says. “You’re convertin’.”

“Am not,” Ellie says. “It’s got chocolate in it, dude. No shit, I like it.”

“Yeah, give me a few minutes,” you laugh. “I’ll put lots of chocolate in it.”

They sit at one of your tables and you hear their laughter in the background as you make her drink.

It’s strange to see Joel like this – to build up on the man you’ve imagined him to be in your mind. Father never occurred to you. It makes sense, though, like a missing piece of him slotted into place. But it also makes the crush feel a little more real. Now that he’s more than your favorite regular customer. Now that you know a piece of him, of who he really is.

It makes you want to know more.

You finish her drink and call Ellie’s name. They both stand and Joel digs in his wallet again.

“Don’t you dare pay me, Joel,” you say. You direct your next words at Ellie. “Really. I’m just honored you stopped by.”

She eyes Joel and he eyes her right back with the same look. She must have learned it from him.

“Yeah,” she says. “Me too.” She grins at you with all of her teeth. “Joel loves this place. Talks about it all the time.”

She takes a sip of her mocha and her eyes go wide.

“Wait, this is fucking good. Man, I see why you drive –”

Joel clears his throat.

“We’re off,” he says. “Thank you, as always.” He sounds softer than usual as if being nice to his daughter is the best thing you could do for him.

You suppose it is.

“You’re welcome, as always.”

Ellie knocks her shoulder with Joel’s as they head back to their trucks. She must be whispering something to him because he swats her away with a groan and she cackles.

They both wave at you as they drive away.

Joel keeps coming in the mornings, and your conversations return to their fleeting cadence. Even so, it’s hard to deny that your crush on him has kicked into high gear.

You try not to let your gaze linger on his lips, on his throat. On his hands when he takes the cup from you, how your skin brushes and it makes you warm all over. You think about how he laughed, how relaxed he was around Ellie. You want to know what he’s like outside of your small daily interaction. You want to know what he eats for dinner, how he spends his weekends, what he listens to on the radio.

You want him.

Business is busy, which helps. A kid from a few towns over – Jesse, he’s called – signs on to work part-time, mostly for the second half of the day. He’s been a barista before so the training is minimal, but it still changes the flow of things. He’s a charming guy and the regulars take to him easy enough.

It’s you who is distracted.

One morning, Joel comes in as expected. Jesse is working, too, trying to clock some extra hours this week.

Joel is on the phone in line, his attention somewhere else. He’s frowning, a deep crease between his brows as he waits in line. All it would take to smooth it away is the press of your thumb.

You try not to stare and probably fail, but manage to take and make the orders ahead of him without making any mistakes, though your whole body feels alight.

He hangs up right as he gets to the window and sighs, giving you a tired smile.

“Howdy,” he says. You set his coffee down in front of him and he pulls out a ten-dollar bill instead of a five.

“Joel –” you say, but he interrupts you.

“My brother called and said he needs breakfast,” Joel grumbles. “Y’got any of Tess’s bear claws?”

Right, they work together, you remember. He’s mentioned Tommy in passing.

“I think so, just hold on a sec.”

“Take your time,” Joel says. It sounds like he means it, even though there’s a line behind him and he probably needs to get to work.

You do find a few bear claws in the box Tess gave you early this morning when you stopped by the bakery.

“You’re in luck,” you say, putting it in a paper bag. “Well, Tommy is.”

“Savin’ my ass,” he tells you when you hand it to him. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

The word sends a jolt of lightning through your whole body. He doesn’t even seem to realize he’s said it but your world shifts slightly on its axis. Sweetheart.

He turns on his heel before you can give him change for his cash, his phone ringing.

“Jesus, Tommy, I said I’d –”

You let him fade into the distance and smile at your next customer.

“How can I help you?”

A few orders later you end up next to Jesse making some lattes.

“Was that Joel Miller?” Jesse asks. “Before. The guy with the black coffee and bear claw?”

You startle. “Um. It was. How do you –”

“I didn’t know he was a customer here,” Jesse says. “Does he come in a lot?”

You unpack a few more cinnamon buns that Tess gave you this morning. “Yeah, every day.”

“Damn,” he says. “He must really like your coffee.”

“Are you trying to say it’s bad coffee, Jesse?”

He huffs a laugh. “No, boss, ‘course not.” He grinds beans for a few seconds but continues once he’s done, steady hands tamping down the results. “I just know he lives like, a half-hour away. And that there are plenty of coffee shops there, too.”

You narrow your eyes. “How do you know him, Jesse?”

“His daughter, Ellie, is a friend of mine,” he shrugs. “Went over to their house plenty of times in high school.”

“Well. He’s a contractor, right? I bet he has a job out here.”

Jesse clips the espresso into the machine and starts on some milk.

“I’m not saying he doesn’t,” he muses. “I am saying that it takes at least 30 minutes to get here from where he lives.”

It’s silly. You’re half-flattered, half-confused. Yeah, you like Joel, and yeah, you’re pretty sure you’ve been flirting every day for over a month. But you figure it’s convenient for him. Coffee and an ego boost all in one.

But if he’s going out of his way to come to The Zone? Well, maybe it’s not just for the coffee.

“Your coffee is good,” Jesse stresses, seeing the gears in your mind turning. It looks like he’s trying to hide a grin. You need to stop hiring young people who have keen eyes and big mouths.

“I think the ice needs a refill,” you say, snapping back into focus.

“He might be here for something else, too -”

“Go refill the ice.”

He throws up his hands with a smirk. “I’m going!”

7:24 am. You’re on your own again and you’re fucked.

The espresso machine is working perfectly and the early rush has ended. The weather is beyond shitty. Rain falls in sheets and the sky is so dark it feels like the sun didn’t bother to rise. It pounds on the roof and blows in the window every time you open it. The awning does nothing to shield customers as they shout their orders over the wind at you. Your fingers are going numb and your front is damp enough to set your teeth chattering.

Joel’s truck pulls up and – well. You’re fucked. And he’s why.

You’re fucked because you can’t stop thinking about him. You can’t stop thinking about what Jesse said. What Joel said. Sweetheart.

A harmless crush turned into something more intense, something heavy in your stomach. You want him earnestly, fully, with every piece of you.

And you still barely know him. But you want to.

Maybe it’s the weather, maybe it’s the fact that you’re damp and cold and frustrated with your own heart and brain. But you see his truck and you decide to do something about this stupid crush.

You write your phone number on a cup with steady hands and set it aside for Joel. You scrawl on it as neatly as you can: Want to get a drink somewhere else sometime?

It’s a bit of a coward’s way out. You should just ask him, say how you feel to his face. He’d probably like that better, anyway. But, well, this just feels safer. He could ignore it, he could throw it out, he could see it and decide to never come back.

Sweetheart.

Somehow you don’t think he’ll do any of those.

The rain lashes against the window so hard you don’t open it until you see the lonely figure approach. The morning rush has been a morning trickle, a few brave souls venturing out for something from you.

Joel, it seems, is one.

You open the window and are greeted with a spray of mist.

“Gimme a sec,” you tell him. It’s so windy he leans in close to hear you. He’s wearing a jacket that’s ill-suited for the rain, his hair plastered to his forehead. Your fingers twitch with the need to brush it back.

You quickly fill the cup you’ve set aside and pass it to him with two hands so it doesn’t blow over.

“Brave of you,” you say. He’s in the rain and you’re both getting soaked but you want to talk to him desperately. It’s a buzzing need at the front of your brain. “Thought the weather would get you, too.”

“Told you,” he all but yells over the wind with a flash of white teeth. “Shitty coffee at home.”

“Drive safe, Joel,” you tell him. He nods at you and jogs back to the truck, cup in hand. You won’t be able to see if he reads it from here, but you hope so. All you have to do is wait.

And wait.

The rain stops.

You’re still waiting, phone silent.

Sunshine peeks through the clouds with a slightly surreal post-storm glow. A few more folks have made their way to The Zone but today has been slow. The clock ticks slowly towards 3 pm and your phone does not ring.

“Don’t be stupid,” you mutter. “He’s working.”

You step out of the shack and into the slightly humid air, the gravel under your feet shifting wetly. The tables you’d set out this morning are, mercifully, still there, though they’re spattered with rain. You might as well close up now.

You’re bent over the last of the chairs, wiping them down with an old rag. You’re focused, so much so that you don’t pay much attention to the hum of an engine and the crunch of tires behind you.

A door slams but you don’t turn around.

“Sorry,” you call over your shoulder. “We just closed.”

“Shame,” he says.

You whip around and find Joel, hands in his pockets. He’s in a different shirt than this morning and his jeans don’t look soaked. You’re still damp, water stains on your pants and shirt.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Hi, Joel.”

He smirks. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside of that window,” he says, before jutting his chin towards the tables. “Can I help?”

You’re very aware of your whole body all at once. He’s looking at you, drinking you in like you’re his morning cup of coffee.

“Uh, sure,” you say. You want to ask why he’s here but the words won’t come. “They go in there, in the little closet on the right.” You point to the open door to the shack.

He dips his chin low just once and then crosses the distance between you in three big strides. He grabs the chair closest to you. The t-shirt he’s wearing shows his arms and you feel what he’s just said – it’s weird to be in the same space like this. You’re outside but he feels so big.

Joel’s arms flex and you swallow, following him with another chair. He stacks his in the right place and holds a hand out for yours.

“What did you write on it?” he asks, casually.

The words don’t totally register. “What?”

He doesn’t answer. His arms are crossed, brow furrowed. Your mouth goes dry.

“On my cup. This mornin’.” He keeps his gaze on yours and for some reason, you can’t look away.

“Oh – you, you didn’t see?”

He shakes his head. “Was rainin’, remember? Got smudged before I got in my truck.”

“Right.”

You tear yourself away and leave him standing there. Maybe you should just lie.

But then you think about the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when you make him laugh, and how he asks you how you are and how he brought his daughter here and how he tips and how he drives all this way for your – for you.

Joel waits, his footsteps the only indication he’s followed you.

You turn around.

“I wrote my phone number,” you say. “And I asked you on a date.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up and you think he’s…blushing?

He rubs a hand over his beard and you hope he’s hiding a smile. Your heart is in your throat, beating so loud you worry that he can hear it. All of your bravado sinks into the damp ground at your feet. Maybe you’ve read this totally wrong. Maybe he’s just a nice guy, maybe your coffee is just really good and your employees are fucking with you. He’s here to let you down easy, to tell you he’s not even available, not interested, not –

“Alright,” Joel says. He walks towards you and tugs his phone from his back pocket. “I’ll take that number.”

Oh.

He hands it over and you type it in, heart jackhammering in your chest. But you watch his face, see the quirk of his mouth and his blush and it makes you brave.

“And the date?” you ask, giving it back. Your fingers brush and your heart keeps pounding but your nerves take a sharp turn away from doubt and towards excitement.

“Well, you gonna ask again?”

You both seem to have found your footing with whatever this is. The flirt in him is back full force, and he’s looking at you in that way of his. You want to know all of his expressions. There is so much to learn.

“Are you going to say yes?”

“S’why I came back,” he admits. “Figured you’d be closin’. Hoped you’d be free.”

“So you could read the cup?”

Joel takes the other two chairs and heads for the door again. You trail him. God, his arms are distracting.

“Most of it,” he says. “Couldn’t make out the last few numbers, though.”

“Well, once we’re done here, I’m free. If you wanted to go on a date with me.”

Joel turns and you’re in the small space at the same time, your chests almost pressed together. You must smell like sweat and stale coffee but you watch as Joel inhales, eyes on yours.

“I do,” he says.

It would be so easy to kiss him, a quick, chaste press of your lips to see what he tastes like.

His pupils dilate and you sway into him for a breath before you realize what you’re doing and step back outside.

You take a deep breath of fresh air. “Great.”

He rubs the back of his neck with one hand and you head for the tables.

“Y’know,” he says. “Ellie’s been on my ass about this.”

You laugh, high and bright. “Has she?”

“That girl ain’t capable of missin’ an opportunity to stick her nose in,” he grumbles, but it’s affectionate.

“Well, I think she’s smart,” you goad.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Reckon she is.”

Joel’s brows furrow and he takes a few quick steps into your space, so close the tips of your shoes almost touch.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Hi.”

“Hold still,” he says. He reaches for your face slowly, slow enough that you could pull away but you don’t. He brushes something from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Grounds.” His voice is a little hoarse.

“Thanks,” you breathe.

He smirks but the flush creeping up his neck tells you he’s not wholly unaffected. It makes you feel…it just makes you feel.

Joel Miller likes you.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” you say.

His eyes widen slightly and he leans in just a little but you slide out of his space with a grin.

“The sooner we finish up the sooner I can buy you a drink.”

Joel laughs, loud and full. “Oh, how generous of you.”

“You’re very lucky,” you say.

“I agree,” he drawls. He taps your chin with one knuckle.

His eyes sparkle and he smiles, looking luminous in the post-storm sunshine. You see a flash of a future – watching him drink coffee in a kitchen instead of through the window of The Zone. Your hands meeting over a shared table, fingers tangling, that smile directed at you in the morning light.

Giddiness rises in your throat and spills out of you in a delighted laugh of your own. Joel just grins.

“So,” he says. “Where’re you takin’ me?”

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff

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kingofbodyrolls · 1 month

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BTS fic recs: April 2024

I want to thank each and every writer on this list for creating such wonderful stories and art - you are truly amazing ✨ All the fics on this list hold a dear place in my heart 🥹

❗Most of these fics are smutty or dark as hell, so minors dni.❗

If you read anything on this list and you like it, please leave a comment to the writer or reblog the fic, it might seem like a tiny gesture, but it really means a lot for writers and I can guarantee it will put a smile on their faces💜 Let’s share and give lots of love! Looking for more to read? Check ‘The Library’ or last years recs 🙂

[index] → jan | feb (jhs) | mar (myg) | 💜 | may | jun | jul | aug | sep (jjk)(knj) | oct (pjm) | nov | dec (kth)(ksj) |

Emoji meaning → angst = 🌩️, smut = 🥵, fluff = 🥰, comedy = 😂, yandere = 😈, thriller/dark = 👻, fantasy = 🪄.

⭐Heart got Teeth @ugh-yoongi [12k] // knj x f.reader // enemies to fwb to lovers // 🥵😂

📝 (or, the one where namjoon meets his match and isn’t quite sure how to handle you.)

🗨️ wow okay, love, love, love this one 😭 it’s mainly from Namjoon’s pov, which is amazing, like all he observes about oc… Gosh and their back and forth teasing, witty banter and the dynamic between dominance and losing control— so good, ugh! 🥵 It’s amazing, so if you haven’t read this one yet, I highly recommend it ✨💯

I know I didn’t get to read so much Namjoon this month, so here’s a small list of what I didn’t get to read this month and stories that I’m excited to read— you can also find Namjoon’s old birthday rec list ✨

The Sheriff @ppersonna

Solace @m-yg93

Dino-Mite (ft. Taehyung) @chimcess

Castaways @rmnamjoons

To Tame a Fox @jamaisjoons

I know. I know. I never read enough Seokjin, and I’m really trying here 😭 I’ll share a list of what I’m looking forward to read, or you can check out my Seokjin birthday rec list ✨

Fast Lane @yminie

Cherry Topper @kth1 (@kth1fics)

Stuck with You @taleasnewastime

Off Limits (series) @floralseokjin

Christmas Warfare @gimmethatagustd

⭐Want a Taste @suga-kookiemonster [18.3k] // myg x f.reader // f2l, shopping mall!au // 🥰🥵😂

📝 pretzel pro. most skillful tongue in the food court world. allegedly. that’s what Yoongi keeps telling you, anyway. of course, you’re reasonably skeptical of his claims—but if there’s one thing that motivates the notoriously-lethargic man, it’s proving skeptics wrong.

🗨️ KDJHGFDKJGAHDFKJHL I don’t know where to start with this one! First, a new favorite of mine 💜 It was so fucking cute, so sugary fluffy, a loved the slow buildup between Yoongi and MC. Like, it was so damn perfect 😭 Their banter, their teasing, their friendship, how MC helps him, and how they are there for each other 💗💯 A masterpiece, perfection, and the writing was also amazing, just as the story and plot!!

⭐Wine [completed series] @junghelioseok // myg x f.reader // coworkers!au, restaurant!ua // 🥰🥵😂

📝 left intentionally blank by the author.

🗨️ OMG THIS IS FUCKING AMAZING!!!! The smut, the writing, the build-up is fucking incredible ✨💯

⭐Warm @ctrlhope [3.6k] // myg x f.reader // omegaverse!au, established relationship // 🥰🥵

📝 the second yoongi steps into your apartment, any hope for a quiet night in instantly vanishes from his mind.

🗨️ omg 🥵 it’s been such a long time since I’ve read anything omegaverse/a/b/o and fuck this was so good 😭 so well written, the words just flowed and omg they’re both omegas and so needy, fuck, I loved it so much 💖🥹💯

My poor Hobi— didn’t get to read any of all those I had planned to read this month 😭 So here’s a list of stories that I am planning to read. You are also welcome to check out this year’s Hobi birthday rec list ✨

Plant Boy @gukyi

Crash Landing @mininky

Best Fucking Friends (ft. Jimin) @back2bluesidex

The Retreat @ugh-yoongi

Safety Zone @btsgotjams27

⭐Under the Spell of a Demon’s Touch @jeonggukingdom [14.8k] // pjm x f.reader // incubus!au, cheating!au, established relationship // 🥵🥰🌩️

📝 you had believed, for your entire life, that creatures of the underworld were only a myth but you were proven wrong by the existence of Jimin. He is, according to his definition, a smaller type of Fae called Incubus. A creature of sex. Someone that can only live and strive as long as his sexual appetite is satiated every day. And Incubi are known in all of their myths to be insatiable and ravenous creatures.

🗨️ do you want to cry? 😭😭😭 This was devastatingly beautiful and so fucking sad! It was very hard for me to read because of all the cheating (I really don’t read those, because I don’t enjoy them). But this has been on my list since forever and I like the author 🥹 though, I will say that I appreciate it for the plot, so fucking sad and the writing is so wonderfully beautiful ✨ I am sure someone else might find it to their taste, which is why I recommend 💖

It is so freaking sad though, like I cried. A lot. Hauntingly beautiful, though I don’t want them to be together, because they both be hurting each other so much 😭💔

⭐The Ten Days of Ex-Mas: pt1 + pt2 @kpopfanfictrash [44.6k] // pjm x f.reader // holiday!au, second chance!au, hockey!au, exes to loves // 🥵🥰🌩️

📝 three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling. Jimin Park, star right winger of the NHL and (until recently), the love of your life, has a very large problem. Despite the courage he regularly shows on the ice, in his personal life, Jimin is kind of a coward. When you broke up this fall, he could barely admit it. Not to his neighbors. Not to his friends. Not even to his family, who are expecting him home for Christmas. In a desperate plea for more time, Jimin begs you to pretend you’re still dating – and to his surprise, you agree. Faced with a second chance, Jimin is determined not to squander it. If only fixing a relationship were as easy as falling in love.

🗨️ okay. Okay. Okay. *deep calm breaths* —THIS IS SO INCREDIBLY GOOD, I truly don’t know where to begin! The plot? The hurt/anger? Their chemistry? Their sexiness? Fuck, like everything in this is making it a beautiful masterpiece 💯💖 I really love how each of them thinks about what happened with their relationship, are working to get better, though Jimin should have been honest about his intentions for the trip, everything was just so fucking amazing 😭 I really loved the aspect of self reflection, seeking therapy, working through it and all that— really payed of for the characters! Loved it, it was so good 💜

Jimin, my man 😭 I’m really disappointed in myself this month— so here’s a few I’m excited to read, but didn’t get to this month. You can also check out Jimin’s birthday rec list from last year ✨

Secrets by the Shore @chateautae

Into the Wilderness @gukyi

⭐Pour Up @jungkxook [14k] // kth x f.reader + jjk x f.reader // fuckboy!au, threesome // 🥵

📝 sleeping with both notorious frat boys kim taehyung and jeon jungkook doesn’t sound so bad ━ especially when you’re drunk and faded.

🗨️ omg omg omg omg 🥵😭 So much smut, so beautiful and so freaking detailed, WHAT!? This was incredible, okay, if you haven’t read this one yet, please go and give it a read 🥹💯

⭐Bodyguard (there’s a pt 2) @yoonpobs [2.7k] // kth x f.reader // e2l, bodyguard!au // 🥵

📝 you protect taehyung from people but forget about the biggest threat. yourself.

🗨️ this part is just as good as the first part 😭 The sexual tension is so high, and oh my, it is so fucking hot 🥵 It is such an amazing series 💯 It’s a shame that it probably won’t be continued (the author is on hiatus), but the two parts that are up are so good! 💖

⭐Dick on the Go @jeonggukingdom [20.7k] // kth x f.reader // bf2l // 🥰🥵😂

📝 it was all shits and giggles when you and Taehyung were desperate seniors in High School, having no idea what to do with your lives, wondering if you’d ever find a decent job or even graduate in the first place. It is not so funny anymore when you come home from the big city to enjoy your vacation time and you find his sex-shop right in front of the house you grew up in when you were a kid. “If nothing works out I’m just gonna open a sex shop and call it something obnoxious like ‘Dick on the Go’ or something with a stupid zucchini logo flashing on top of the building.” He had said one time. Shit, you had no idea he actually meant it.

🗨️ kinda late to the party— but holy fuck this is insanely good and so funny 🥵😭

⭐When Worlds Collide [ongoing series] @letjungcoook7 [currently loading…] // jjk x f.reader // college!au, slice of life!au, s2l, fuckboy!jk, virgin!reader // 🥵🌩️

📝 since your mother's passing a year ago, life has been a whirlwind. balancing your passion for ballet with a low-key presence at college, where you’re the top student, was your norm until Jungkook stepped into your world. known for his reputation preceding him, jungkook is the talk of the campus with his casual rendezvous that have the girls buzzing. despite his allure, you're puzzled by his need for your tutoring prowess, especially given his own academic merit. yet, succumbing to his persistent requests, you reluctantly agree, only to find yourself thrust into the spotlight you've always avoided.

🗨️ I’m still reading this amazing story (there’s five parts out) and it’s so damn interesting— like, there’s a lot of drama and angst and I really love it🔥

⭐Chasing Cars (teaser) [ongoing series] @oddinary4bts [currently loading…] // jjk x f.reader // brother’s best friend!au, forbidden love!au, college!au, slice of life!au // 🥵🌩️🥰

📝 when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

🗨️ only the teaser has been posted (1k words though!) and it is so fucking amazing, like everything Ella writes. The first chapter drops on 10th of May, so please, go read it, add yourself to the taglist, and please let Ella know how excited you are for it! I already know this series is going to be epic ✨💯

⭐Milkin’ Days @wwilloww [3.9k] // jjk x f.reader // cowboy!au, cowboy stripper!jungkook // 🥵😂😂

📝 when the charming but mysterious cowboy Jungkook approaches you, you are positively smitten, drawn to him like a horse to a fresh bucket of feed. Little did you know, however, what dark secret he kept hidden behind those barn doors.

🗨️ what the fuck did I read??? 🥵 No, no, no— it’s not bad, it’s the darn opposite! I mean, it is so freaking filthy and all the dirty talk and terrible puns about cowboys, farming, gosh, everything, it’s so fucking hilarious!!!!! Seriously, such a funny crack fic, I loved it 😂💜

This month was another tough one for me (mentally) and I also focused a lot more on my writing, which meant that I didn’t get to read as much as I use to 😭 So this list is a bit incomplete, and I’ll put ‘to read’ sections under the members that I didn’t get to read. I hope May will be much better, but some personal shit has already happened to me, and I’m thinking about going on a hiatus, but reading and writing is what keeps me going, so I’ll try to keep going, just a bit slower maybe and give myself more time, and that it’s okay to not go things like I used to 🥹

Thank you for reading— please give these lovely authors a lot of love, read their stories and leave them a comment/reblog to let them know that you liked it and that they matter 🫶

Love you and Borahae 💜

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honestsycrets · 9 months

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playing house | single parent au: mechanic!miguel x teacher!reader

❛ pairing | mechanic!miguel x teacher!reader; single parents au

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | gabi's on a hunt to get a mami. miguel doesn't really need help with it. or, Miguel trades mechanic work for love.

❛ tags | explicit, mechanic!miguel, first grade teacher!reader, some mention of hurt, heavy themes of voyeurism (both ways), single parents, unhygienic sxconditions, Spanish not translated, very domestic fic, f!reader, protective miguel, very light mutual jealousy.

❛ request fulfilled | Miguel is a single dad, Reader is his daughter's kindergarten teacher, and he is both very obviously crushing on her and very reluctant to say it. Fortunately, his daughter isn't! "Did you know my papi likes you?" Cue flustered Miguel. + BROOOO mechanic!miguel is hot please tell

❛ sy's notes | flashback to that one time a car fell on my tio. 😅

The job was a simple part replacement. A fizzled-out chunk of metal that would cost any single mother more in labor and puff costs at any mechanic shop. But not with Miguel, who was known around the barrio for his begrudging care. He’d do any job Lyla brought to him for any madre around who needed him.

He wrung his hands out on his stained top and lifted his head out of the hood of an old but faithful car. After a click and a lock, he turned his eyes toward the dusty cover. Syncopated beats trill from a radio ring background static that he’s long since zoned out to focus on his work. He wiped his forehead and looked at the trampled grass underneath a cheap plastic pool.

“Gabriella, bring me the manguera,” he called out to his little girl, who looked at the hose in her little pool bobbing with poppy bright toys. The older she got, the worse her loneliness became. Not due to any ill-doing of Miguel who always tried his best to be present. For some reason, Miguel couldn’t bring himself to date in anything but short bursts.

“Papi, look across the street. New neighbors!” Gabriella cooed delightfully. She splashed out of the pool with the long emerald green hose in hand, bobbing over on her long skinny legs. “It’s a girl. A pretty girl! And she’s looking right at you!”

Like that was a new occurrence. Miguel turned his hand over his sun-bright daughter’s short, sodden braids that whipped just over her shoulder. She stood in place, bouncing delightfully over newcomers. There were many viejitos in the cul-de-sac, but not enough kids.

“¿Y qué, mi vida?” he asked her. His hand shipped free from her hair. “She’s probably taking in the barrio.”

“I think she is! You!”

He threw a glance over his shoulder only to find your prying eyes eating him up from across the street. You speak to a pair of movers-- but your eyes slipped away from theirs, where he stood with his little girl. The hose dumped water onto the street. Water that he’d usually be extra concerned about wasting. Today, he was more interested in a game.

His dirty white t-shirt is matted to his back, soaked in the sweat of the day. He gripped the bottom of his t-shirt on either side and tugged it over his head. It pulls on his well-corded arms, protesting its release from his body. Miguel slipped it over his shoulder and proceeded to release bits of sweat from his thick hair. An adorable gasp fell free from your lips, replaced by your hand over your lush lips, snapping back to attention.

“You’re right, Gabi.”

He took the sputtering hose from her and cracked a begrudging smile. Gabriella waved eagerly-- and to his surprise, you waved back. If it wasn’t the hot sun beating down your face, it was the embarrassment on your face. You settled the sunglasses on the cute crook of your nose. With that, Gabriella helps him wash the car until her most hated part, drying it with old towels and bits of Miguel’s ripped old shirts.

“Hola!”

“Coño,” Miguel cursed in surprise, turning around to face you. In your hand was a clear plastic bag stuffed full of the filled corn husks, warmth steamed its sides. Miguel glanced down at the bag in your comparatively soft hands, drawing his sweaty shirt over his cut muscles to wipe away the sweat that slicked his dusky skin.

“I brought you and your lindita tamales.”

“Tamales!” Gabriella cooed, her hands cradling a limonada. They made it together, like clockwork every Sunday. “I love tamales!”

“Don’t old neighbors bring new one’s food?” Miguel bit out, a bit annoyed. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate food, it would save him countless bright-ass early meals dragging himself out of bed to make Gabriella something with school right around the corner. He’s annoyed at that star-bright smile you have whipped across your face. It stirred excitement he thought he killed a long time ago. “Or are you just a show-off?”

“I teach first grade at the school across the street,” you ignored his snark and looked none the more bothered by it. There’s some magic in a woman that didn’t feed into his shit. You provided Miguel with a name that felt familiar to all the orientation packets he received just this week. “Ya tú sabes, umm, at Carillo’s.”

Of course.

“That’s where I go!” Gabriella beams. “I’m Gabriella O’Hara and I’m going to be in first grade, right papi? This is my papi. His name is Miguel.”

Damn it all. Miguel slaps his sweaty shirt on the top of the car. You kneel down, offering her up the tamales instead of Miguel. He blinks through his sudden irritation, realizing that he’s fucked now. Gabriella grabs the plastic bag, giggling delightfully over them.

“Then maybe you’ll be in my class, Miss O’Hara.”

When he checks her orientation paperwork-- there it is. He suddenly felt the pressure of the ordeal, of the pretty next-door neighbor who wore flowy dresses and apparently, loved muscles. His eye darted out to the window, the movers zipping off in a whir of color, leaving you just there, spinning around in the driveway of your new home, nearly too sun-bright.

Maybe it’s tied to being a father, but Miguel notices little things you do. Some are ineffectual. Others are dangerous. You leave your bedroom window wide open as you change. Miguel sat outside on Gabriella’s swing on his second cup of coffee for the day when he noticed it for the first time.

You come in from your shower and scurry about your room nearly naked. Then, cupping your breasts between your hands, you whirled around for a set of underwear. From this far, he can’t quite make out the color. It might be red. Not a poppy red, but a deep, soothing red he recognizes from his dead wife’s wardrobe.

He wasn’t sure why you wouldn’t just change in the bathroom, but in any case, it was… dangerous. Any freak walking by could see you changing. Mimi’s room had very well-used blinds and yours did not. He turns his attention back to the newspaper on his lap. Nueva York stalker confesses to stabbing murder in five-year-old cold case. He scrunched his nose at the news and drank a coffee that had long since gone cold.

Sometime later, your front door swung open. Mimi busted through, a little girl with long black twists and black eyes that held a similar excitement for the weekend. It was her papi time. Gabriella doesn’t have that luxury, two homes full of warmth. Just one, with a papi who loved her more than life itself. Miguel hopes it’s enough. He left his newspaper on the bench as you settled her in the car, making his jog across the street.

“You should buy blinds,” Miguel said the second you shut the door. You jumped, your hand on the locket on your chest.

“Ay dios, it’s just you. You shouldn’t walk up on a woman like that, Miguel,” you laughed. “Especially not a single mother.”

“You’re painfully oblivious. Buy some blinds for your room. It isn’t safe.”

Dry as his tone was, it was laced with concern. If there was no one in your life to tell you what he thought was obvious, he would. “You saw me? How much did you... see?”

He responds with a dull stare, his gaze falling to the red strap of your bra that set slightly off-kilter along your slight shoulders. You sucked in a breath to calm yourself, your heart beating at a rapid pace behind your modest shirt. You reached up to hide the strap. A frown marred his contrite features.

“You look beautiful in red,” he found himself muttering, pushing off of the back of the car without another word. He beat himself up for that-- stupid, stupid response. Because of course you know you look gorgeous. He didn’t need to say it out loud.

“Gracias, papi,” you called after him.

He hoped he was not flung into the creep category after that winning display.

You bought blinds for your window and a swing for Mimi’s new, sturdy tree. Its long arms offer some reprieve from the heat, casting a shadow on the small house. It wasn't long before you spent days on heaps of homework from the kids and a glitter-bright pen to grade spelling tests.

It's nice to have a little bit of company as he works on cars and yard work, even if you watch him like a voyeur, blushing if he notices, gasping if he plays into this new little game. At some point, he voided his shirts altogether. It’s not long before Gabriella has a game of her own to play.

“Psst, Lyla. Vente, Lyla.”

Gabriella sits boredly in the shop after school. Sometimes in his office, other times in the shop during breaks. One of his technicians, Lyla, sat on an upside-down bucket by Miguel’s side as he worked on a car. This time, it was a stupid simple fix. The idiot ripped off their bumper parking too far on a curb. Lyla sat in gold coveralls, undoubtedly grinning behind that black mask slapped across her face. He didn’t need to look away from the clips he was applying to know they were both up to shit.

“Yeah?”

“Papi has a crush on my teacher. I think she could be my new mami. If--”

“Miguel has a crush?” His other tech, Peter chirped up with a hunk of sandwich in his fingertips. How was he always slacking off and eating? Miguel didn't know, but he was. “I can't believe it. He hasn’t had a crush since Tem--”

“I don’t have a crush,” Miguel responded. “Less scheming, more homework, kid. She told me you’re behind on schoolwork.”

She does so well on spelling tests, Miguel, you told him at parent-teacher conferences. But she never turns in homework.

Gabriella was not behind because she was stupid. She was behind because she was a stubborn little child who, Miguel knew, was trying to set him up. Lyla abandoned the bucket to walk over near Gabriella’s unicorn table, pulling out a microsized table and looking down at the stupid simple homework. Single-digit numbers were a painful waste of time to a kid who loved math.

“She’s single?”

“Yup,” Gabi chirped, scratching away at her coloring page with a fat purple crayon. “Mimi told me.”

“No boyfriend?”

“No boyfriend. I double-checked. And get this, she said she would come help me with homework.”

“Lyla.” Miguel shoved the opposite end of the bumper in place, securing it carefully. Lyla was bent down by Gabriella. So Papi has more time to see her! Gabriella whispered. He may not know what you’re saying, but he knows it’s bad by the way she looks at him. As though she were a cat might with a glass it was about to shatter on the floor. “You can go home now.”

His daughter doesn’t need any more of her devilish attributes.

“You fucked it alright, mujer. What did you hit?”

Miguel twisted a bit of the sidewall between his fingers to gauge the depth of the hole. Never mind that the back passenger wheel whistled away until it ran flat. It wasn’t the first time someone brought him a car that was fucked. It was the first time you had.

You never asked him for anything, not at the price of your pride. You simply… made it work. Just like Miguel made childcare work by leaving his shop to pick Gabriella up and leaving her bored as fuck every weekday until he could close up shop.

Today, Mimi and Gabriella were inside, playing with dolls after a warm dinner of arroz blanco and fatty pork chops. He wasn’t much a fan of your sickly sweet platano, but he tried it tonight after Gabriella hounded him. Don’t be rude, papi! He’s gotten used to coming home on Wednesday to dinner. It’s something that he realizes he’s missed: having someone to come home to.

“A pothole,” you murmured shyly. His forehead rippled into wrinkles, holding the chunk of broken-off rubber between his fingertips. He rubbed the exhaustion out of his dark eyes, minding the nervous twiddling of your fingers.

“A pothole,” he repeated after you. No matter how many times he considered it, it did not fit. His body was ripe with aggravated energy. He’s too tired for this. The shit he’d seen in his shop and you expected him to believe that you hit-- a pothole? “Qué mierda.”

Miguel set his hands on his hip, rolled on his heel, and stepped back to inspect his future work. His body thrummed, a tightness pulling with the sight of your shy smile. The truth tittered on your luscious little lips.

“I may or may not have hit those rocks by Doña Díaz’s casita.” One look around the street revealed the chunky, pointy rocks you referenced. Miguel flicked the bit of rubber onto the top of the car and looked at you. You were guilty as the day was long. “They weren’t that far off the curb before! I know that it’s bad. Do you think you could-- fix it?”

“You’re going to have to replace those two,” Miguel gestured. “What, did you not see the massive rocks on the side of the road? What were you doing? Eres una mama, you have to pay attention, por dios. You could have been hurt.”

Your eyes darted to the wheels. The nervousness was strong, nearly all-consuming, bidding you to shut up. Though it was a good question, the shame that flecked your eyes was enough to cause Miguel to move on. He knew you were likely inattentive, your mind hovering somewhere else than the quiet cul-de-sac.

“I… had a bad date, Miguel. I was upset and dizzy and… Don’t tell anyone, please.”

The pain of being a woman. His eyes soften as he reaches out, his large hand warm on your slight shoulder. A pulse of warmth rushed through his hand as you leaned in, your cheek plastered to his stained top. He smelled of oil and sweat, but somehow, you find it comforting. Your hands come over his back, tugging on the dark coveralls.

“It’s alright,” Miguel sighed. He'd tell you not to pick shit men-- but sometimes, as he knew, that didn't matter at all. “I’ll have it fixed.”

“I don’t have that much money, Miguel,” you began. “I have to take care of the kids, my house, Mimi. I…”

“No te preocupes. You can do something else for me.”

You drew in a small, choked breath. The type that settled in your chest and did not leave. Not until Miguel’s arms wound over your waist to soothe you through the pain and pressed a kiss that lasted entirely too long to the top of your head. It’s the first time he wants another.

“She is dating,” Peter said. “You know what that means? It means you’re on a time crunch. She could always meet the one!”

"I'm not concerned about it."

The one, Miguel shook his head as he paced past the car he was propping up. He never heard anything more ludicrous. There was no such thing as the one. There was only a range of possibilities to pick from. At any point, life can happen. Then your one is gone-- and you’re left with only the memories and a body to bury. Still, as he clambered underneath the car, he found that he quite didn’t like the thought of you out with anyone else... especially not men who may or may not spike your drink.

“You should ask her to a date. Like, more than playing house with sticky kids and lasagna.”

“She’s never made me lasagna.”

Peter sloppily suckled on his fingers, the juice running down his thin wrists. “Then what was lunch?”

“Pastelón,” he answers bitterly. “It’s… plantain lasagna.”

“Okay, I thought you didn’t like--”

“I don't-- I eat it because she spends time on it.”

Peter sucked in a breath, eyes wide. He’s about to say something terribly unuseful, something like how Miguel has it bad. Miguel knows he does, half-formed images of what a family could be every day he went to pick Gabriella up, homework done, and happily fed. A feat in itself.

In place of that, though, were the car’s melded, mechanical squeals. He has but a moment and a half-formed plan that goes up in smoke the next second that it falls on his arm. He hears Peter’s half-formed, panicked shout to Lyla and recalls the flurry of steps and medical attention sometime later.

Admittedly, he did tell you to be careful.

When he wakes up, so does everyone else. Lyla chastizes him with her hands balled up on her hips, Peter sobs almost twice as much as Gabriella does until the two are dead asleep against his bed. Miguel’s eyes have rolled way too far.

“Is he finally asleep?” you peep into his heavy hospital door with a ginger knock of your knuckles. Miguel throws a look at Peter’s squishy face, half slumped over.

“Hermosa, I thought he’d never stop,” he grumbled.

“You scared him.”

Tch. Miguel watched you pick up Gabriella, settling her on the stiff pull-out bed. He foggily asked you what time it was, close to the end of visiting hours. He’d need to arrange something for Gabi with Lyla taking care of the shop. It itched at his throat.

“Gabi too. Should I…”

“Take her home for me,” he grumbled. “I’ll be back tomorrow. It’s just a broken arm.”

“You coughed up blood, Miggy. You could have died if Peter wasn’t there.”

Miggy. You finally used the nickname somewhere between Wednesday dinner dates and a car slumping on him. Miguel throws a growl to the side, using his non-fucked hand to pet the top of Peter’s head. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew you were right.

“What happens if… something happens to you?”

“With Gabi?” he asks.

"Sí. With everything."

You nod, looking idly at his little daughter, still in her school clothes. You brought her as soon as school was over, soothed the panic in her voice, the thought of becoming an orphan just because the car had cracked his arm. She wouldn’t have remembered her mother’s death, it was far too long ago now.

“Lyla. Why the face? If you’re jealous, know that was the agreement with my wife before she was murdered.”

You hadn’t known you were making a face, but you were to the trained eye. Some small pout of your lip, tears welling at the corner of your eyes. Miguel shoves himself up on the bed, straining sore muscles. It was going to be a long night. A longer month or two until he was up and running again.

“I’m not making a face. It's just... You were reckless when you're usually so careful. I'm wondering why. I'm sorry.”

"It's fine," Miguel urged you to come closer. "Come here."

You slid into his chair, tentatively sneaking your hand on top of his. Miguel wanted to tell you more. There was not another friend nearly so close, one that would take care of everything and anything he needed. He's suddenly aware of his situation. It would be difficult to make a woman secure that he'd not tied down yet. You clearly care-- based on the insecurity in your eyes.

You’re on a time crunch. She could always meet the one.

He doesn't want to miss his shot. He brought your hand to his lips, straining with a pained little grunt. You stood up to help him, allowing his lips to flutter over the back of your hand in a small kiss at his urging.

“Trust me. She’s not a threat,” he said. “You’ll take Gabi with you?”

“Of course, Miggy. Anything you need.”

Securing a relationship would just have to wait.

The first day back, Miguel sent Gabriella off with Lyla. Mimi is off with her papa, leaving you with nothing but time. He finally saw his projects through without Peter loitering over his shoulder, revitalizing cars with bad radiators and fizzled-out air compressors. As if Peter was the boss and he were the employee. The grease under his fingers feels more like Miguel than any squeaky clean shower you’ve helped him take. Yes, you’ve helped him take. He could have asked Lyla or Peter, but why over-extend their lives when you lived in his home for the past month to take care of Gabriella anyway?

He wonders what you thought, stripping him down to nothing, seeing his naked thighs, watching him clean sensitive bits that, as you lied, you were not looking at. He finds it cute, the way you tried to look away, but of course-- you always snuck a look. You’re nosy by nature. He’s never been ashamed of his body, though. For all the work you did, he thinks you deserve a look.

“Miggy,” you slipped through the side door, your heels clicking over a greased-up floor. He hopes you don’t fall, arms deep in the hood of a shiny dark blue convertible. It’s nearly perfect. “I got your message. You said we need to talk?”

“Don’t slip.”

Miguel whirled a wrench into its place, slammed the hood shut, and rubbed the grease on his hands together. Like it will come off his callouses. Miguel meets you half way, offering you his greased up hand. You look down at his hand, then up to Miguel again. He half thinks you won’t take it, but you do, allowing him to whirl you in a spin before lifting you on top od the hood of the car.

“Ay Miggy--” you cursed, looking down at the car. It shone bright, its smooth metal cold under your bare thighs. He pins you in place as you attempt to wiggle off, nearly jiggling your way onto his lap. “The owner will be mad--”

“It’s mine and I’m not.” He explains. “I know what I want.”

“You want…?”

“For the work on your car.” It’s cute how clueless you act, holding your breath as his fingers course past your bare thighs. You barely manage to choke the words out, your hands inching on his. He replaces himself between your thighs. You both know that you more than made up for the few hundred dollars in repairs with the work you’d done for him in a month. Holding your breath, you nod.

“Tell me.”

“I want a night with you.”

You didn’t know what to say, leaning your trembling fingers up to the bits of dark brown hair that accentuated the wrinkles on the corner of his eyes. You met his eyes, trained on your own, challenging you to respond. Words formed in a mishmash of nonsense on your tongue. You take the chance to press your lips on his, your hand suddenly cradling the side of his face for some stability. You were hardly comfortable on his car, but Miguel didn’t seem to care, biding your lower lip to open and let him in. You relinquish, savoring the distant taste of roasted coffee on his tongue, his fingers teasing along your thighs.

“That’s not an answer,” Miguel pulled back from your lips for an instant. He graces your neck with soft kisses, leaving the occasional bite and tug just in case-- he doesn’t need another man thinking he has so much as a chance. Your big man pins you down onto the car like you were weightless, any willingness to inch away tempered by his mass.

“Depends,” you answered. “I want this to be an every night kind of thing.”

“Consider it a trade.” He chuckled against your neck, the heat from his lips traveled across the valley of your breasts. You complied with his desire and let him slip your breasts free from your romper. His mouth closed his mouth over your nipple. His greasy hands melded your breasts between his desperate hands, tongue prodding your nipple fat. Your legs met his hungry performance by pulling him forward, his scratchy belt against your clothed cunt.

“Careful,” he teased. His hand fell to his bulge, unbuttoning his stained pants. You watched him pull himself free, pulling panties and romper alike to the side of your lips. Your lips parted, much like that very first day you met him, sundered by the sight of his cock. This time, fully hard. He doesn’t enter your cunt-- no, he’s patient, slotting himself between your folds for a teasing grind. His dick twitched in response, eager to finally fuck you. “You’ll fall off.”

“It’s your fault. You could have asked over dinner.” He greets your complaint with a nod, flicking your other breast. He envelops the other nipple between his mouth, his teeth grazing along the sensitive skin. You take a long breath, hips leaning up against his firm length.

“Like that would be anything new. We always have dinner,” Miguel murmured in protest. “A far better use of our time is soaking your pretty cunt with my cum on this car before dinner.”

He felt your cunt clench at nothing. His hips, thrusting against your mound, nudged over your wet little folds, knocked against your greedy clit. Before you could respond, Miguel popped off your nipple again, “You like that thought? Going to dinner leaking?”

“Miggy, por dios,” you complained. “Stop dry humping and give it to me.”

He huffed darkly, snatching one of your thighs and leaning back. He spreads your lips, inspecting his work. You were wet, but not just wet, soaking his car. Miguel brought his other palm to wipe your wetness away, jerking himself with the fluid. He tests your reaction by nudging the head of his cock against your unprepared hole.

“Miguel,” you bit out, this time a warning.

“Ya te oigo,” Miguel loomed over you, pinning your shoulder back to his glistening car. You don’t debate him on that, allowing him to say whatever he wants if it would just get him inside. Miguel relinquishes control, pushing inside of your tightness. He bit back a groan, pushing past your body’s resistance, throbbing against your core. Your hands fisted his dirty shirt, cunt split wide on his cock, and glad for it.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his hands securing themselves on your hips. He gives you a moment to catch your breath before he pulls nearly free, slamming forth just a moment later. Breath punched out of your throat, his cock rocking your cunt nice and full. You loved this-- looking beautiful and full just for him. He knew it too, “Hermosa.”

Miguel held his arm tight around your thigh, holding you flush against his rutting hips. His balls slapped your ass, pulling tight. You were distantly aware of his thumb at your clit, leaning your hips into his thrusts the best you could. You could only squirm to keep yourself upright on his car despite feeling your body sliding into his. His thumb worked in insistent, tight circles, forcing the pleasure to burrow in your low belly, tightening over him. It’s no marker of your performance, you think, hoping he’d give you another chance to be anything but a toy on his cock.

“No, no puedo--” you whined, your hands dipping under his shirt to scratch at his finely cut muscles, knowing you were about to gush.

“Do it,” Miguel grunts in response, his thumb more insistent. You’re not entirely proud of the way you came, creaming his cock desperately. He held strong, smothering his own groans if only for the pleasure of hearing your passionate cries. You come to moments after, Miguel’s thrusts now intent on his own pleasure.

“Come on, papi,” you worshipped. “Cum in me.”

“Fuck,” Miguel complied, his dirty nails causing sharp indentions on your thigh and hip. His sticky cum fills you in a few deep thrusts, each more forceful than the last, and he’s spent. If he was dirty before, he was filthy now. Miguel catches your lips in a lingering kiss, going soft in your body. He knew the second he pulled out your cum was soaking his now-dented car.

His eyes peeled open to find your gaze on him, tracing fresh superficial scratches on his belly. Of course, you are-- you’re a hungry addict. Miguel pulled himself free and looked for a cloth that wasn’t grease soaked to clean your cunt with. You piece yourself together and slide off his car.

“Let’s go.”

“¿Qué?” he zips himself back into his pants.

“You promised me dinner.”

He sighs-- just as long as it wasn’t lasagna.

There’s something attractive about your love of children.

He thinks it’s likely because he’s never had that himself. His mother was a beast of a woman. Never affectionate. At least, not with him. After his wife’s subsequent death, life proceeded in a vacuum. The years passed: first one. Then six. Then he was here, holding a bundle of jewel-bright roses against an uncharacteristically clean button-up, walking down the dull blue carpet of the beige hallway to the pod that usually held the kids. For all the days you tolerated him smeared and slathered, you deserved a good display.

They were usually alight with noise, rambling on about their latest toy or prattling on about a mommy that Gabriella just did not have. The more she grew, the more important it became to have that for her-- maybe it was more for himself. Today, that hall was dead of life.

“Gabi, I hear your papi,” you called from somewhere inside. He hears her subsequent pitter-patter of feet across the carpet, popping out with Mimi from the door before he can open it. Miguel cocked his head, a sigh working on his lips. They whirled the door shut. Gabi bolted to your would-be desk and slapped her tanned palms on the tabletop.

“Maestra, maestra!”

Ah, damn it all. Miguel’s hand hovers around the knob, chewing on the next thought. He couldn’t really blame the kid for what she was about to say, because he knew exactly what she was about to do.

“¿Mande?”

“I have something to tell you, it’s really important. Papi likes you, did you know my papi really, really likes you?”

There’s a pause. Then a slight, amused giggle from Mimi. It’s short-lived as he pulls open the door, loathing this dumb thing called Teacher’s Week that leaves him with a bundle of flowers and instant regret.

“Sí, Gabriella. I know he does. I like him too. He’s so cute.”

If he weren’t so dark, he’d worry about the flush in his face with the embarrassment of being outed by his little girl. He stares at your hands on Gabriella’s, then at the small sea of desks and colorful name tags to break some of the tension, hardening his face to shield it from the embarrassment. Was he really so obvious?

“Hola Miggy.”

You scoot out of your chair.

“Hola,” he sighs, remembering he was holding flowers. He slides them into your hands, hooking his hands on his slender hips. “This is… Gabi wanted to give you flowers.”

“I never said that,” she chirped, bouncing his way. “You said--”

“Gabriella.” Miguel hisses, his tone sharp at her interjection. She goes dead silent by Mimi's side, staring up at him with watery eyes. He jerks his head in the direction of the quartet of desks she sits at. “Go get your things.”

“I think Papi is embarrassed,” you whisper, crouching down to rub her little back, soothing down her milky white top. “I’ll talk to him and make it better, okay? Go with Mimi.”

“Okay.”

Mimi bounded off behind Gabi, stuffing her bag with her colorful work and chunky crayons. Miguel exhaled air, staring at her powdery blue backpack for something other than the complete and utter embarrassment that yet someone else had called him out. If it wasn't Peter, it was his daughter.

Had he been this obvious the whole time?

“Don’t be too hard on her tonight,” He peered down at you, small in the grand scheme of his height and musculature. You pecked a small kiss on his lips, stroking his week-old stubble, just enough to cool Miguel’s teetering nerves. “It’ll be better when she finds out.”

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #atsv imagine #atsv imagines #miguel o'hara smut #atsv fic #atsv fanfiction #miguel/reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel fic #atsv x reader #across the spiderverse imagine #across the spiderverse fic #spider 2099 x reader

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arlana-likes-to-write · 6 months

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Holiday Compromise

Summary: It was your nature to be a giver. You could give the shirt off your back if your girlfriend asked you for it. But when she is just as stubborn as you are, you have to be creative this holiday season to give the small family of three a Christmas they deserve.

Warning: slander of Vision and Sharon (no hate to them), implied sex, drinking, divorce, mention of fighting and past childhood trauma, reader is lowkeye rich, no Avenger/power AU

Note: I can't believe this is my first Wanda x reader fic, wild.

Word Count: 5.2k

You heard Wanda say goodbye to Billy and Tommy as their father picked them up to celebrate Thanksgiving with him and his new girlfriend. It was the second Thanksgiving for the boys, a feeling you knew all too well as your parents divorced at a young age. You were in the kitchen, washing off the dirty dishes and loading them into the dishwasher. "You didn't have to do that," Wanda said, leaning against the wall with their arms crossed. She was wearing a maroon dress with long sleeves that came to the middle of her thighs. She was beautiful.

"Of course I do," you said. "You cooked, I cleaned, it's only fair." She smiled at you before grabbing two wine glasses and filling them with a red wine you brought. She jumped onto the counter, slowly sipping her wine as she watched you. Once you were done and the dishwasher was running, you grabbed your glass and moved between Wanda's legs. You took a sip. "Were the boys excited to go to their father's?" You asked. Wanda sighed.

"I'm not sure," she said. "I think so." You put her glass down and placed your hands on her thighs. This was the first holiday the twins had to experience with divorced parents.

"The first holiday is hard." You smiled. "But it gets easier, I promise." You kissed her forehead. You met Wanda 10 months ago while walking out of a coffee shop on your way to a meeting for your company. As you left the shop, someone ran into you, spilling your coffee all over you. Your outfit was ruined, and on any other day, you would be upset, but you were distracted by the beauty of the woman in front of you. She was frantically trying to clean up the mess. You told her not to worry about it and asked her for dinner. "So," you took another sip of your wine. "What do you want to do for the rest of the night, my love?" You asked, kissing her cheek and down her neck. You made sure not to leave marks on her skin. Her breathing hitched.

"I see you have some ideas." You smiled against her skin.

"Can you blame me?" You asked, looking at her. "The food was delicious, but I was hungry for something else the entire time." You loved making her blush. Wanda was incredibly self-conscious of her body since giving birth to the twins. It didn't help that Vision rarely gave her attention after she gave birth. But my god, you were in love with her body. You found it difficult to keep your hands to yourself in front of her kids. Wanda smiled, biting her lip.

"You make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world," you kissed her softly, taking her glass out of her hand. You lifted her. She gasped at the sudden movement and put her hands around your neck.

"It's because you are. Let me show you."

To your surprise, you woke up to an empty bed. You were always the first one up because you had clients in different time zones. But you made sure to take the day after Thanksgiving off so you could cuddle with your girlfriend. Her side of the bed was cold. You sat up, stretched your arms over your head, and glanced at the clock. It was 0730. You sighed and got out of bed. You put on shorts and a sweatshirt to look for Wanda.

She wasn't hard to find as you stepped into the kitchen, hunched over a notebook, a calculator, and her checkbook. You walked up behind her on quiet feet, wrapping your arms around her. She was tensed up but soon relaxed in your arms. "I wanted more cuddles." You pouted. Your girlfriend chuckled, turning around to face you.

"I'm sorry, baby," you loved when she spoke in her native tongue. It was incredibly sexy.

"Why are you up so early? You don't have to be at work till 5. She was working the evening shift at a 24-hour diner. You saw the stress and worry in her features. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing I can't handle." She said. Yeah, that wasn't going to fly. Early in your relationship, she hid everything from you because Vision was never there for her. You weren't his biggest fan.

"Hey, don't keep things to yourself. Remember, we are a team." She sighed.

"I'm worried about money," she confessed. "With the holidays coming up, I just hope I can give the boys a good holiday with everything they've been through." You hummed, kissing the top of her head. "I'm sorry this isn't your problem."

"Hey," you spun her around from the table. "I love those boys like they are my own. We will figure it out." She shook her head, biting her lip.

"I'm their mother," she firmly said. "I do not need your help." You nodded.

"Okay," you smiled, rubbing your hands up and down her arms. "But can we cuddle some more, please?" You pouted. Your girlfriend rolled her eyes and stood up.

"Yes, we can, but," she kissed you softly. "Please forget about this, okay? I don't need you spoiling us." You kissed her forehead, and she led you back to her room, promising you would forget it.

So you were struggling to keep your promise. Every time your mind had a spare moment, you thought about Wanda hunched over her checkbook, trying to make ends meet. You knew Vision was paying the bare minimum of child support when he could afford more. But you felt trapped. It was in your nature to help those you loved and cared for. Your second-grade teacher, who allowed you to spend your lunch in her classroom because you were trying to work through your parent's divorce, needed money for hip surgery - you donated the rest of the amount to her fund. Your high school coach was in a car accident - you bought him a new one. Your secretary was diagnosed with breast cancer - you covered the medical expenses and other bills that came up. You were fortunate to be in the position you were in. You had enough money and wanted to give it all to Wanda and the twins.

However, it was early on in your relationship that Wanda wasn't with you for the money. She fought you on paying for her share of the bill, refused any gift, and never asked to help with bills. On the one hand, it made you love the mother of two more because you had your fair share of partners who took advantage of your status. Conversely, you wanted to spoil the small family if only she would let you.

"What's got you thinking so hard?" Natasha asked as she opened the door to your office. The Russian was your second in command, your best friend, the sister who always wanted. Her family lived next to your father, and when it was his weekend, you would spend more time at Natasha's house than at his. Melina helped you get emancipated at 15 since you were done being a pawn in your parent's game. It was around that time you and Natasha tried dating; you were better off as friends - family. She set a stack of papers on your desk. Ugh, you hated being the boss. "Speak. I got other things to do on my list."

"Jeez, thanks," you stood up. "You got time for a drink."

"I guess I could make time in my busy schedule." Typical. You chuckled and grabbed two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. "Damn, we are drinking the good stuff," she took off her jacket and draped it on the back of the chair before sitting down. "Is this about Wanda? I like her. She is so much better than Sharon." You rolled your eyes, pouring the alcohol into the two glasses and giving one of them to her. No one liked Sharon. "Cheers." You hit your glass against hers and sat down.

"Wanda is having financial troubles," you swirled the amber liquid in the glass before taking a sip. "She worries about the holidays but won't let me. She's stubborn." You loved her, but she would work herself to death to provide for her boys.

"You are stubborn, too; it makes sense why you fit so well together," you flipped her off. "So she won't let you spoil her or the boys with things."

"Yes! I have all this money. What's the point if I can't spoil my girlfriend," Natasha rolled her eyes, but she was quiet, biting the inside of her cheek. You knew that she was thinking.

"So don't spoil them with things. Give them an experience. Bring them to the cabin up north," she suggested. "All you have to do is provide the food and sex."

"That is," you paused. It was a good idea. The cabin was built on some property you bought in Upstate New York. The three-bedroom, 2.5-bath sat on 16 acres of land with a private pond perfect for ice skating. You allowed close friends to use it year-round. You could take them ice skating and sledding; if you were lucky, the Northern Lights would appear. "Not a bad idea."

"That's why you keep me around," she finished her drink. "Just bring it up to her and let me know she says. Because if you aren't going to use it," Natasha stood up. "I will use it." You finished your drink and placed the two dirty glasses on the shelf behind you to be cleaned later. You chuckled.

"Are you going to take Bucky?" You questioned. She smirked.

"Him and possibly Steve, make things interesting," you cringed, grabbing the pile of paper she brought in.

"I'd have to burn down the cabin if you three spent a weekend there," you deadpanned. The redhead flipped you off.

"Hey, I'm a gentleman and always clean up after myself."

"Get out of here, you pervert, before I have to file an HR report," she waved and opened the door. "Nat," she stopped at the sound of her name. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me," she smiled. "You'd do the same thing for me."

You were a little nervous as you sat on the edge of your bed and waited for Wanda. The twins were with Vision, so after her shift, she came over. She was in the bathroom, showering and getting ready for bed. You wanted to ask her sooner rather than later, but your stomach was in knots. What if she hated the idea? What if she thought you were being pushy and broke up with you? That would destroy you. "Baby," you turned to face your girlfriend's voice. She was drying her hair and wearing a shirt that was too big for her and came down to her thighs. "Are you okay?"

Sometimes, when you looked at Wanda, your brain short-circuited. She was so beautiful. Vision was an idiot, but hey, his loss was your gain. Your girlfriend smirked, threw the towel back in the bathroom, and walked over to you. She stood in front of you before straddling your waist. Immediately, your hands went to her thighs, massaging them. "Where have you been all night?" She asked, tracing the lines on your forehead. "I feel like you've been a million miles away." You sighed, taking her hand and kissing it.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, my brain is all over the place."

"Can I help?" She whispered, kissing your cheek. "You work so hard." Her lips trailed down your neck and nibbled on a sensitive spot below your ear. "You help so many people," Wanda began playing with the bottom of your shirt, hands grazing your stomach and flexing your muscles. "Let me take care of you," her lips ghosted over yours. "Please." You groaned; the hold you had on your thighs tightened. She was going to be the death of you. There was a voice in the back of your mind screaming to give in, to have this talk later. But it couldn't wait. Using your strength, you flipped her over. She landed on her back and would have bounced off if you weren't holding onto her. Your face was in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. Vanilla. Lavender. Fresh linen.

"As much as I want to," you said. "We need to talk about something." She touched your cheek and forced you to look at her. Her green eyes were filled with worry. "It's nothing bad. It's about the holiday season." She huffed, dropped her hand, and sat up. You were forced on your knees.

"And I thought I told you to forget about it."

"I know, I know," you sat up on your knees to be between her legs. "But you know how I am, baby," she rolled her eyes, and you took her hands in yours. "Just I came up with a compromise if you'll listen." She sighed but nodded. "I know you said you don't need my help, and I don't want to help," you added quickly. "However, I want to treat you and the twins. I own a cabin in Upstate New York, and we could go there for a few days after Christmas. It will cost me nothing besides food and the gas to drive up there," Wanda was giving you her classic 'mom look' when the twins said something she didn't like. "It has a hot tub," you said, trailing your fingers up and down her thigh. You liked the way goosebumps formed.

"No presents."

"3 presents," you countered. "2 for the boys and 1 for you." She sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"You can't get us anything for Hanukkah then." You groaned. Dammit, you wanted to get them something. But you had to compromise.

"Deal," you smiled. "So," your hands went to her waist. She didn't slap them away, so you figured it was good. "Are we going?" She was fighting to keep the smile from forming on her face; she was forced to bite her lip.

"Yes, we can go. I'll discuss it with Vision." She said. SHE SAID YES!

"Wooo," you cheered, picking her up, moving her to the middle of the bed, and attacking her face with kisses. Her laughter was infectious. She pushed her away, and you turned on your side, head resting on your hand. Wanda's cheeks were pink, and she was slightly out of breath. "You are going to love it there," you told her. "It's beautiful and quiet. The boys can have their room if they want. That reminds me, the place could use a good cleaning. I'll call the service tomorrow. What do we want to do for dinner? Oh! I'll get the place decorated and-"

"Baby," Wanda cut you off with a playful smile. "We have a few weeks. No need to rush everything."

"I know," you brought her into your arms. "I'm just very excited." She giggled.

"Yeah, so am I."

"Boys, are you sure you have everything?" Their mother asked for the third time since picking them up at Vision's. It was Christmas. The four of you spent a quiet morning of breakfast and gift unwrapping; the gifts you got were at the cabin. Then you brought the boys to Vision's so Wanda could do some last-minute packing. The look on the man's face was hilarious when he opened the door, not expecting to see you. Thankfully, the twins excitedly ran off toward the Christmas tree, preventing awkward or hateful interactions. You drove home to spend a few hours alone with Wanda before returning to their father's.

"Yes, Mom," they said in unison, but they were already engrossed in what movie they would watch on the TV. Their jaws dropped when they saw them on the back of the driver and passenger seats. Wanda was in the trunk, reorganizing the back to fit the stuff they wanted to bring they got from their father. You rounded the back and saw Vision from the front door, a smirk on his face as he watched his ex-wife struggle. You were quick to kiss her, keeping your eyes on the man. He turned around and went back inside.

"If they forgot something, I have extra of everything," you rearranged the back and closed the trunk. "No stress, right?"

"Right, no stress." You smiled and walked to the driver's seat.

"Boys, are you ready?" You asked and fastened your seat belt.

"Yes!" They cheered. You were surprised they were excited to go. They spent a few days reading up on the wildlife they might encounter. You smiled, watching the boys put on their headphones and hit play. Wanda got in, getting settled with a blanket and a few necessary road trip snacks. You started the car and began the drive with your hand on Wanda's thigh.

The drive to the cabin was your favorite, especially in the winter. The mountain views were blanketed in the snow. Trees that lost their leaves but told a different story. It was so quiet, too, a stark contrast to the city. There were about 30 minutes left of the drive; you were taking it slow as the roads weren't the best. Billy and Tommy were fast asleep, and Wanda played with the rings in your hand. You told her she didn't need to stay up, but she told you she was okay. "Why did you buy property out here?" She asked, keeping her voice low. "I feel like you could have brought property anywhere.' You chuckled; she wasn't wrong, and you have thought about it - a house in Florida on the beach, a French villa in the countryside, anywhere. You sighed.

"When I first realized I could afford anything, I wanted a cabin like this," you told her. "My mother had one when she was younger, and before the divorce, we would go, but a fire destroyed it. In my delusion, I thought if I bought one, we could be a family again," you shrugged. "Obliviously, it didn't work." You hated your parents, but a part of you was desperate for their love and acceptance.

"When was the last time you spoke with them?" She asked.

"About three years ago," you answered. "Mom needed some money, so I gave it to her," your girlfriend shook her head. "What is it?"

"Your heart is too big for this world," she kissed the back of your hand. Natasha and her family would say the same thing. However, they would say that's how you would get hurt.

"Are we there yet?" Billy groaned from the back. You chuckled.

"Almost, buddy, about 15 minutes." You said with a smile.

"I'm hungry," this time it was Tommy. Wanda rolled her eyes. That boy was always hungry.

"I'll cook us something when we get there, but first, we have to bring our stuff inside."

"And open presents," you added on quickly. The twins woke up more at the mention of presents.

"Presents are waiting for us!" Billy excitedly said. You nodded.

"Of course. It's still Christmas!"

"There better be only three presents under that tree," Wanda gave you a stern look.

"I only bought three presents," you said. She looked like she did not believe you. "I promise! That was our deal!" You stood by it, but the people you worked for didn't make that promise. "Babe, it's fine."

You parked the car, and before you could speak with the family, they were out of the car to look at the cabin. Smiling, you got out yourself. It did look better in real life than in the pictures. You hired some people to come out and decorate the cabin. It was perfect with the freshly powered snow; lights hung on the roof, and the trees outside. There were some Christmas-themed blowups out front. Wanda looked at you. "You did all of this for us?" She questioned. You shrugged.

"It was nothing," you smiled, scratching your head.

"Boys, grab your stuff," Wanda instructed her kids. The twins grabbed their backpacks and suitcases and ran for the door, kicking up the snow as they went. You grabbed your bag, and Wanda's before joining them. There was other stuff in the car, but that could wait. The twins were bouncing on their heels as you typed in the code and opened the door. "Oh my god," Wanda whispered. It was like a Hallmark movie threw up in the cabin. There were more lights and wreaths, and a Christmas tree was at the center of it all. You should have given them a limit.

"Presents!" Tommy yelled, running over to the tree. So, there were more than three underneath the tree. Boxes were stacked high around it.

"Is this all for us?" Billy asked, looking back at you. You ruffled his hair.

"A majority of it is. I think there are a few for your mom and me," you said as you looked back at their mother, whose arms were crossed. Oh, she was pissed. "Boys, go pick out your room. Down the hall." Tommy stood up, looking between you and his mom.

"Are you in trouble?" He whispered.

"Maybe," you admitted. "Now go." They were quick to grab their things and run off. "It wasn't me," you said when they were out of earshot.

"I said three presents."

"I did buy 3," you paused. "Well, technically 4, but I bought it for myself." You quickly closed the distance between you and her. Her arms were still crossed, but she allowed you to wrap your arms around her. "All of these gifts are from my coworkers; you know they love the boys just as much as I do." There were rare times when you needed to pick up the boys from school when Vision or Wanda's schedules would line up differently. Since you were the boss, it was easier for you to leave. You brought them back to your office until Vision or Wanda could pick them up. Everyone loved them. You would find them with Yelena or Natasha in their office, Bucky in the cafeteria, or Shuri in the lab. When they asked what the family wanted for Christmas, you couldn't tell them nothing. It was in your nature to spoil people, so if you couldn't do it, you might as well have your coworkers do the dirty work. "Baby," you took her cheeks in your hands. "You and the boys deserve a wonderful stress-free Christmas with the year you three had. If I can provide the space and have others spoil you," you glanced at the tree. "They did go over the top. I'll talk to them." She giggled and placed her hands on top of yours. "I'll do it. You deserve the world; let me give it to you the next few days," she sighed, resting her head on your shoulder. You felt her tears on your shirt.

"Okay," her voice was so soft. "Thank you." You kissed the top of her head.

"You're welcome. Now," you whipped away her tears. "We have some very excited kids that want to open presents." You saw the boys peek their heads around the corner. Wanda laughed.

"Come on," she said. "Let's get going."

Growing up, you dreamed of having a family vacation like this one. As soon as Tommy and Billy were up with bellies filled with breakfast, the fun would begin - ice skating on the pond, sledding on the hill, and winter hikes in the surrounding woods. But also snowball fights, lots of them. You saw the northern lights at night and a little wildlife in the backyard, and you flew the drones you got the boys for Christmas. When they were asleep, you would draw a bath for Wanda, sit by the fireplace in the master, or take a dip in the hot tub. It was perfect; you'd never seen your girlfriend this relaxed. She was smiling, laughing, and more carefree. Even the boys noticed the change in their mother.

At last, all vacations must end; it was your last night at the cabin. Wanda cooked a fantastic dinner; you refused her help with every meal, so you knew she was itching to get back in the kitchen. Then it was smores around the fire and one final movie night. You were putting Billy to bed; the poor kid was falling asleep halfway through the movie. The sound of your name from the sleepy boy made you stop and turn around. "What's up, bud?" You asked, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. If his eyes weren't opened, you would have thought he fell back to sleep.

"Are you going to marry my mom?" You fought your jaw dropping and thanked all your years of being CEO to keep a straight face.

"I'd like to," you said honestly. You never liked lying, especially to kids. You were often on the receiving end of the lies from your parents. "Is that okay with you and your brother?" He nodded quickly, and a weight you didn't realize was on your shoulders was lifted.

"I like you, and you make Mom smile," he frowned slightly. "My dad doesn't like you." You chuckled, shaking your head.

"I'm aware, but that's not gonna stop me from being with your mom, okay?" He nodded and sat up, staring down at his hands.

"They fought a lot," he admitted. "They tried not to do it in front of us, but we still heard it." Oh, you knew that feeling well. They were lucky to have each other. "I don't like fighting. Dad and his new girlfriend fight sometimes, too," you weren't aware of that. You wondered if Wanda knew.

"Do you like her?" The boy shrugged.

"She's okay, not as nice as you," that made you smile. "She just kind of ignored us when we are there." You hated some of the partners your parents ended up with.

"Look at me," he slowly did. "I want you to know that you and your brother can always come to me. You are part of my family." Billy smiled.

"Thank you," he hugged you.

"Always," you whispered, kissing his forehead. "Get some sleep." He played back down.

"Goodnight."

"Night, buddy," you turned off the overhead lights and closed the door. Wanda was in the kitchen, making herself a cup of tea. "Is Tommy asleep?" You asked, wrapping your arms around her waist. She nodded.

"He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow," you chuckled, kissing her shoulder. "You were in there awhile with Billy; everything okay?"

"Yup," you popped the 'p' at the end of the word. She spun around, back against the counter, and tilted her head at you. She was a mind reader; you swore by it. "We were just talking about you and me. The boys like me." She rolled her eyes.

"I could have told you that." You laughed.

"So it's our last night here; what do you want to do?" She bite her lip, moving her head from side to side.

"You know," she trailed her hand up and down your chest. "I haven't gotten my Christmas present yet."

"And I thought you didn't want me to get you anything," she shrugged, smiling.

"You got a girl curious," you smiled, took her free hand, and led her into the master.

"Sit and close your eyes," she did as she was told and sipped on her tea. You weren't sure why you were so nervous to give it to her. Every time you went to bring it out of its hiding place, your anxiety got the better of you. You returned to the bed with a small jewelry box and bag. You set them next to her. "You can open your eyes." She did and handed you the mug. "Open the bag first," you told her, placing the mug on the side table. Wanda slowly opened the bag, pulling out the tissue paper.

"Lingerie," she laughed, taking the maroon pieces out. You smirked. "I can't believe it." You shrugged, kneeling in front of her.

"I told you I bought something for me," you chuckled against her neck. "I want to buy some lingerie for my girlfriend. Sue me," she shook her head and pushed you away slightly. You pouted as she returned the clothes to the bag and picked up the jewelry box. "If you hate it, I can return it and get you something else," you added. She opened the box.

Her green eyes shun with unshed tears. It was a necklace with four gems - each was a birthstone representing her parents, brother, and boys. "I know we don't talk about your parents or Pietro a lot, but I wanted to get you something so they'll always be with you," you explained. "If I overstepped, I can-" she surged forward. You caught her body trembling slightly as she cried.

"It's perfect," she said. "So perfect." She sat back on the bed. "Can you put it on?" You took the necklace from her and placed it around her neck. She was quick to go to the bathroom to look at it. While she was gone, you sat on the bed. When she was done, she came out and sat on your lap. You got major deja vu when you told her about your Christmas plans. "I don't deserve you," she whispered, kissing your cheek. "Thank you for the gift, this trip, and everything you've done for me and the twins. What Billy asked you rang in your head - 'Are you going to marry my mom?' You squeezed her thighs, and she looked at you.

"I'm going to marry you one day, Wanda Maximoff," she let out a surprised squeak from the back of her throat. "One day, you'll never have to do anything, not worry about money or bills. You could sit at home all day for all I care."

"I'd get bored," she said. "I could never be a housewife." There was something about the way she said housewife that put a chill down your spine.

"You won't have to be one," you smiled, tickling her sides and spine. She shivered. "You could go back to school and become a teacher like you wanted to, be a writer or painter, or go to culinary school. Anything you want as long as you are mine," Wanda chuckled, moving her fingers through your hair and tilting your head back.

"You got this all figured out, huh?" She teased. "Do you think about marrying me a lot?" You weren't sure how to tell her you've thought about it since she ran into you at the coffee shop. Your silence must have been telling because she threw her head back in a laugh. "I haven't even said yes yet." Your jaw dropped slightly.

"You would say yes," you said slowly. She shrugged, got off your lap, and grabbed the bag.

"You'll have to ask."

"I'll buy the ring," she stopped on her way to the bathroom, threw a wink over her shoulder, and closed the door behind her. Groaning, you fell onto your back. That woman was going to be the death of you in the best possible way.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x vision #wanda maximoff imagine

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sorryimananti-romantic · 7 months

Text

Feeling Like I Do

neighbour!yunho x reader

best friends to lovers au

word count: 5k (bulletpoint headcanons this time)

genres: fluff, absolute fluff, a little crack, a little angst, some suggestive jokes thrown around, just wholesomeness and yuyu

synopsis: you and yunho have been best friends since forever and neighbours for a while, and you find it harder with each passing day to hide your feelings for him.

manager-nim: @eightmakesonebraincell (this took way too long to finish considering the deep yunho brainrot we've been in)

special thanks to @hwaightme your guy.exe triggered this hehe

being best friends with jeong yunho was not as simple as it sounded

especially when he was your neighbour

like, right next door. the very next apartment

so you couldn’t avoid him even if you wanted to

honestly, you brought this upon yourself, if you think about it

ever since you were kids, you had been inseparable

from going to the same school and bonding over a similar sense of humour

from pranking the rest of your friends together to making fun of each other

to knowing each other’s deepest secrets

except for the one that really mattered- that you had the biggest, fattest crush on your best friend

honestly, you do not recall when exactly it happened

if you think back, you can’t pinpoint it to one moment

it is a number of moments, the years you spent together, the memories you shared that you are now a grown up and still hopelessly in love with him

though you would not admit it

never. ever. over your dead body.

you just have one fear that has stuck with you and it is that you do not want to ruin things between the two of you

he has known you since forever. he knows you inside out.

he’s too precious to lose over something as stupid as your feelings

because if he does not feel the same, you will never be whole again

but if by some small chance he does and you mess things up later? you would never recover

this is why you think having feelings for your best friend is so messed up

and this is the reason you always dismiss his flirty actions as jokes between two best friends who are super comfortable with each other

like when he casually enters your unlocked apartment and asks for a pinch of salt and spots you in the ugliest fit you’re wearing

he will go “wow you look beautiful”

and you will make a face, knowing he is joking, and ignore the butterflies in your stomach

and you respond with “you don’t look too bad yourself” when he himself looks like he nests a squirrel in his hair

his casual touches and occasionally flirty gazes do not bother you anymore

you’re made of steel now

so when he hugs you out of nowhere or swings you around just to hear you squeal, you know it’s just what friends do

or when he finds you too adorable and kisses your temple, you let it pass. you don’t read too much into it

though occasionally, you like to blur the lines too. he might know at this point

like what friend runs to their other friend only to jump in their arms and bury their face in the crook of the other’s neck?

what sort of friend casually zones out while staring at the other and wonders what they did to deserve them?

you

perhaps, this was a teenage crush that would have quelled with time- but that was if you had parted ways for college

by some evil play of the fates, you two ended up in the same city, quite close to each other

and as soon as you two had enough savings, you both decided to be neighbours

you just didn’t have it in you to be apart from each other

and funny thing was, no one batted an eye. it was so natural

though they did question why you weren’t housemates

you and yunho would always share a grin and respond with ‘to protect the last shred of privacy’

which was an inside joke now

so when you both started living together- because that’s exactly what it was

from going grocery shopping together

to knowing each other’s door locks

dropping in stuff for the other without their permission

privacy? ha. what privacy?

sure, you almost once walked in on him showering

and he almost walked in on you changing your clothes (your fault you didn’t shut the door, right?)

but that wasn’t a big deal at all

you would slide notes under each other’s doors- cute reminders to take an umbrella or a good morning/good night

or an ugly doodle or a ‘u stink’

you did not collect all those notes in a jar. you did not

he once bought 10 rubber duckies and hid them around your apartment and you would find them in the most odd places

like inside a pot you rarely use

one was even in your underwear drawer

whenever you’d find one, you would take it with you whenever you went to yunho’s and hide it somewhere there

and so the eternal game of hide and seek began

you have never talked about it out loud by the way

the more memorable things were just making yourself at home at the other’s place when one of you did not feel like being alone

which was most of the time, if you were very honest with yourself

you would watch tv together while you had dinner and have a heated discussion about whatever you were watching

or you would play games with him

or he would help you pick out your fit for the night

or you would style his hair

or you two would stay up all night talking about stuff

about anything and everything

emptying out your hearts

yet still you would always have more to talk about

it was never a boring moment with yunho

and you could go on about why you loved him forever

every day, you woke up glad that he was so close to you and still with you

he was the only person who did not judge you

you could say something nasty and he would still try to understand your perspective

which just made him 100000x more precious

but he would call you out when you did or said something wrong/bad but in a very gentle manner

which you appreciated so much

and the best thing was, he always stayed. he was always there

his arms were your eternal safe space

and he knew

it was like he knew the look in your eyes, whenever you needed a hug

and he would spread his arms and you would walk to him and wrap your arms around his waist while he embraced you

and tell you that it would be okay, no matter what was going on

he would always offer to hear you out or simply be there, physically

he was just… so easy to be with

he was your personal ray of sunshine, your little fluffy cloud, yours

he was yours- oh, how you wished he could be yours in all the ways

because whenever he talked about someone he noticed with you

or just looked at someone different and then find you staring at him

he’s respond with “i just like their outfit” or “i think their hair is nice”

and you would wonder if it’s really just that

you two do have an unspoken promise to tell each other whenever you start dating someone or fall in love

but that’s mostly because you both know your dynamic would have to change a bit

because you two wouldn’t be each other’s priority anymore- not like you are now anyway

and it hurts to just think about it

you asked him, “what would really change?”

and he responded with, “i would appreciate it if you do not connect your bluetooth to my speakers when i have someone over and play some unholy audio”

which turned into an argument because he has literally done the same to you and you had a friend over

you had to explain yourself and explain yunho and tell the traumatised friend that this was just him pulling a prank on you

but you responded with “you know what i will also appreciate if the person does not find a potato instead of a soap in the sink”

you two are always out for each other and after all these years… you two never know each other’s next move

but you both know your dynamics would change in more ways than that

you wouldn’t be able to stroll in his apartment so casually and make breakfast for the two of you because you ran out of ingredients

neither would he be able to come and take a shower in your apartment because “i ran out of hot water” or “i want to smell like strawberries today”

you wouldn’t be able to go and sleep on his couch or bed because you felt lonely

neither would he be able to do the same

and you both would have to tone down the physical affection because you two have heard enough about people mistaking you for a couple

honestly, sometimes you wonder if those people gaslit you into seeing him as something more

but… it was yunho. how could you not?

especially when he cared for you like no one else?

and maybe, maybe, just maybe

he thought of you like that sometimes too

it was probably wishful thinking but oh, how you wished he did anyway

because you couldn’t take it sometimes

you couldn’t take how he would zone out while listening to you talk and look absolutely adorable

you couldn’t take how when you’d hold hands while walking he’d caress them absently

and you couldn’t take how he’d play with your hands when you’d tell him about your day or some gossip

you couldn’t take it when he’d sneak up on you and wrap his arms around you in a back hug and make you feel so small and safe

or when he’d rest his head on yours as you hugged

you couldn’t take it when his gaze would linger on you a fraction of a second longer when you were too close

or when he would always search your eyes before he would plant a chaste kiss on your cheek or forehead

you really, really couldn’t take it anymore

perhaps you needed therapy now

you couldn’t afford slipping in front of yunho tho

or anyone of your mutual friends for that matter

because you knew if someone found out they would somehow let yunho know

and you weren’t ready for his answer

what if he distanced himself from you if he ever found out? you couldn’t have that

perhaps you should have physically distanced yourself from him

perhaps being neighbours made it worse

tho, could you call it worse when it was literally a blessing to have him so close to you?

you’re starting to question it tho

bc one night when you were out drinking late with your friends

you came back to your apartment complex, feeling so low

and when you were about to cross yunho’s door to get to your own, you paused

you paused and stood outside his door for the longest time

and then you sank down and rested your back against his door

wishing he wouldn’t find you

you just needed to cry a little and lighten the weight on your heart

except, another evil play of fates and yunho somehow just knew to look for you

he almost opened his door but heard the faint sound of your cries

at first he thought it was a lost kitten or something but then he opened his door a fraction and found your figure on the floor

and his heart broke

“y/n? can you please move a little so i can open the door?”

you froze

until he called your name again and you wished you could dig the ground and bury yourself under it

but you moved and not a few seconds later, he was next to you and rubbing your back

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you replied

except there was a lot

you just couldn’t tell him

just like the various times he found you crying alone and no matter how much he insisted, you wouldn’t tell him

he wondered who hurt you sometimes

he wondered who it was so he could punch that person or do anything, something, to make it all right

because he hated it so much when you cried

it made his chest feel tight and he’d always get confused about what he was feeling

a number of things is what it was- anger, longing, pain, confusion

but this time? he wasn’t going to let you go

because just how long had you been crying like this? why didn’t you just come inside? why didn’t you find him?

he asked you that

you couldn’t reply yet again

so he decided to bring you inside

he made you drink some water

he wiped your face with the sleeves of his black shirt

and you finally looked at him

oh goodness. he was wearing those black rimmed glasses again

the ones that made him look so, so good.

but he looked angry

“you’re going to tell me who made you cry. or else we’ll be sitting here just like this all night while i wait for your answer”

you bit your lips, looking away and cursing yourself internally

you should have cried in the shower or something

“can i rest? my head is spinning- i might have drank too much-”

“no.”

you locked eyes with him and he didn’t look away

“do you have any idea how much it hurts me to see you like this? and how much it hurts me that you stayed outside? why didn’t you come to me?”

you looked away again, wiping the fresh stream of tears

it was getting harder now, to not give in. to not answer his questions and put an end to this once and for all

especially with yunho so close to you and caressing your bare knees that you put between the two of you

“tell me”

“i can’t”

“why not?”

“because…” you sighed deeply. you looked at him

if you weren’t drunk, every cell in your brain would have screamed at you to shut up

but because you were, it was now your heart tugging that did it for you

“don’t look at me like that, yunho.”

yunho only cocked his head, refusing to look at you any other way

you snaked your hands up your knees to meet his hands, locking your fingers

“you can’t distract me this time-”

yunho’s words got caught in his mouth when you started to lean forward and he drew back reflexively, looking at you questioningly

but you weren’t going to stop

he wanted answers? he would have them

so you continued to lean forward until you were on your knees and almost in his lap

you looked down at him, meeting his very confused eyes

“do you ever think about why i don’t come to you at these times? do you really not know the answer?”

you watched his ears flush

he knew

he must know

he must have a hint, at least, of what you felt for him

“is it really me?” he whispered

you didn’t answer this time

you couldn’t

you simply dropped down with a sigh and pulled your hands from his

he was so confused- he had no way to navigate through this without your help

but you were drunk right now

he decided you should at least be sober when you talk

and perhaps, you decided that too

so you resorted to climbing in his lap and holding him in a hug

he didn’t waste any time wrapping his arms around you

and planting a kiss on your head

just like he had done a thousand times now

“i’m sorry for making you worried,” you mumbled, burying your face in his sweatshirt, hearing his heartbeat

“i’m sorry for sounding angry- i didn’t mean to.”

“i know,” you assured him. “can i sleep here?”

“of course-”

“right here?”

yunho wished you would say such things with a warning because his heart dropped dangerously and he couldn’t help but let out a flustered laugh

“am i that comfortable?”

“you’re literally my human pillow”

and just like that, you were both back to normal

but yunho made sure not to let you forget about this

in the morning when you woke up before him and noticed him sleeping in a painful position to accommodate you on the couch

you watched him for the longest time

and snuck out to go back to your apartment and really panic this time

because boi, did you mess up this time

and it was the weekend. yunho would be up and asking questions in no time

you had nowhere to hide

perhaps, you should stop hiding now

the doorbell rang and for a moment you wondered if it was someone else

but when you opened the door to yunho with a bowl of soup in his hands, you knew he rang the doorbell for a reason

he would be asking you questions today

so you let him in, wondering how he would initiate the conversation

“i bet you have the worst headache now,” he goes, grinning like everything is normal

you didn’t realise he was being normal so you would lower your defences while you ate and chatted like normal

until he finally asked, “are we going to talk about what happened last night?”

“what happened last night?” you ask back

it was perhaps the wrong thing to say

because you see yunho’s gaze darken

you immediately sigh to let him know that yes, you know exactly what he is talking about

you did not like to see him angry so you decided to face what was next

but… anxiety started to creep in your chest as you looked at him, waiting for him to say something

“can you please tell me why you were crying last night? why did you not come and find me?”

you sigh deeply again, pursing your lips as you look at him

because you could feel it

this was it

it would never be the same again

you spend a few minutes staring at him, opening your mouth to say something but stopping, and then looking away and recalling exactly where you fucked up

and he’s so patient. he keeps waiting

he’s not even fiddling with anything right now. he’s just… there and watching you and waiting

you finally lock eyes with him and say, “have you ever wanted something so bad that in order to gain it, you risk losing it completely?”

yunho thinks it’s really cryptic, what you just asked him

because… yes, he’s wanted something that bad too

he didn’t realise it until the first summer he did not spend with you a few years ago

and he felt so lost until he saw you and everything started to make sense

and everything has made sense since

he’s wanted to make you smile every moment you spend with him

he’s wanted to embrace you eternally every moment you find home in his arms

he’s wanted to make you laugh because of all the sounds in this world, your laugh was his favourite

even tho it sounded like windshield wipers

he’s wanted you so, so bad

but how could he ever admit it

suddenly, he understand you

and he finds himself nodding slowly, his heart beating with an urgency indicating the arrival of a change

it could make or break you both

so he says, “yes… yes i know exactly how that feels”

you both watch each other for a few moments, afraid to take the next step

but yunho won’t give in now- he doesn’t want to see you cry like that ever again

“is that why you were upset? you’ve been mulling over something like this?”

you’re hesitant but you nod

so he leans forward as if to hold your hands from across the table but he stops himself

and asks, “why have you been so afraid to tell me this?”

it’s silent. very silent

only the sounds of your breath in the room

and the sound of your heart in your ears

with a gulp, you manage to say, “because… because i’m afraid of being selfish and losing you in the process.”

for a few seconds, yunho is frowning in confusion as he tries to make sense of what you said

and you see exactly when realisation hits him

when his features relax and his gaze clears and his mouth parts as he look at you

you don’t look away. you’re waiting for him to say something, to respond, to hurt you with what he’ll say next, anything

but he looks away and lets out a flustered laugh and you can’t help but let out your own nervous laugh as well

you watch his ears flush and his lips curl downwards as he stifles a smile

and you finally cry out, “say something, you idiot.”

yunho puts a hand over his mouth as he stares at you

and suddenly, you feel hot all over. the embarrassment is catching up to you

“are you telling me, y/n, that you like me? that you… actually want me?”

you blush furiously and you’re almost sweating now but you manage to nod

and yunho is laughing in disbelief again and you’ve had enough

you get up, muttering about getting a drink but yunho is quick to catch your wrist and pull you towards him

and you’re suddenly too close

he’s searching your eyes

“you want me?”

you give him a pleading look and he understands

he brings an almost trembling hand to your face, tucking your hair behind your ear first

“i need you to say it, y/n. because i-”

“yes,” you nod, “yes, i want you. is it too much to ask for? have i ruined things?”

yunho shakes his head and lets go of your wrist only to cup your face and you try to decipher the look in his eyes

it is not the first time he has looked at you this way but this time it’s a bit different

“do you have any idea how much i’ve wanted you since forever?”

you think you’re hearing things

because there is no way

there is absolutely no way

that jeong yunho- your best friend- wants you

“you’re not joking, are you?” is your response and yunho laughs a bit before he leans in, watching your breath get caught in your throat when he gazes at you

and then his gaze is stuck on your lips and he’s waiting

and now your hands are moving out of their own accord, snaking up to his chest to fist his black sweatshirt

his nose brushing against yours undoes something in you

“yunho, please,” you manage to whisper

and then he finally pecks your lips

it’s cautious, it’s soft, and it’s nothing like you imagined it to be because you’re feeling a number of things

he scans your face briefly before he pecks your lips again, this time longer

and then he does it again and you’re finally moving your hands and tilting your face up so he can properly kiss you

and there’s no need for words anymore

the unspoken actions are enough

you open your mouth and he dives right in, kissing you eagerly

your knees were already weak so you struggle to stay upright but he’s quick to catch you

his arms are holding you to him and you’re the one cupping his face now as you kiss

it is years of longing and love poured into this kiss and none of you want to stop

but you eventually break apart for breath and then you realise exactly what position you both are in

and suddenly, you’re both laughing, too shy to look at each other and you hide your face in his chest

he’s caressing your back while you recover and when you look up, he’s got the most loving look in his eyes

“what took you so long to do that, y/n?”

“i could ask the same,” you respond. “i could cry right now.”

yunho laughs, planting a kiss on your forehead. “well. how do you feel?”

you hug him, taking deep breaths

“i think we should really talk,” you laugh

he steers you to the couch but he makes you sit in his lap so he can caress your face or play with your hair while you talk

and you can’t because he’s looking at you with the softest gaze ever

so you just ask him since when he started liking you- does he like you?

he tells you about how he, too, has been afraid to ruin things

and talks about how he thought you liked someone else

you ask him if he never got the hint

but you both know how wary you two have been, especially lately

never reading too much into things

perhaps one of you should have

“i’m sorry i made you suffer like that,” yunho finally says to let the weight off his shoulders. “i never realised you were hurting because of me.”

you tell him it’s not his fault and that if he did not like you back you would have been hurt, yes, but you would have dealt with it

except you are so lucky that he feels the same way about you

you can’t believe it, actually

you trace the curves of yunho’s face

it’s like you’re looking at each other for the first time now

“i’m yours,” he whispers when you finally look him in the eyes. “i’ve always been yours.”

you can’t help the tears now

they are tears of relief and sheer happiness

and yunho understands because he’s pretty sure he will cry soon too

he lets you pepper kisses on his face

and holds you when you hug him again

“good thing it’s the weekend, right? we can stay like this all day long.”

and you do

you have nothing you’d rather do

you stay in each other’s arms, talk about everything and anything, caress each other’s hands (mostly you bc you love his hands), makeout in between

and it’s so natural

nothing has changed- it’s just like before but better

you’re still joking around and teasing each other like before

he still passes a ‘ur ugly <3’ or a ‘what a mess’ note under your door

and you still respond with an explicit drawing

the suggestive jokes have levelled up tho

he always catches you off-guard with them and you either blush furiously or send something flying at him

a few things have changed tho

like when he finds you in the kitchen and gives you a back hug

this time he’s quick to sneak in a kiss and maybe nibble at your neck

sometimes it turns into a heated makeout session

other times you ask him to stop so you can focus on cooking but he keeps distracting you until you’re running after him with a wooden ladle

and you two can’t stay away from each other now- you couldn’t anyway but this time it’s different

this time when you crawl in his bed at night time, he is quick to spoon you

and now he does not hesitate to find you in your apartment too, at night

earlier he used to keep a distance for the sake of you both- you realise how now

now he doesn’t sleep in the corner of the bed with the excuse that he likes it

he has to hold you while sleeping

and he has to mutter dirty little things to rile you up too

when your friends find out, they’re not surprised at all

they’re disappointed it took you two this long

they call you both dumb and dumber and perhaps, they’re right

but perhaps… this was the right time

there is a time for everything, you realise

and it took you and yunho years of being together to realise that yes

you are meant for each other and no one else :’)

he’s your best friend, your other half, and your soulmate

he is yours <3

#jeong yunho #yunho #ateez x reader #yunho x reader #yunho fluff #yunho angst #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez au #ateez reactions #ateez headcanons #yunho ateez

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physalian · 2 months

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In Defense of Fanfiction (Or the perfect starting point for your original novel)

Fanfic gets a bad rap pretty much everywhere except Tumblr. It’s misunderstood and misrepresented by its average works, seen as juvenile and cringey, or a banal point of contention between a famous person or piece of media and its fans.

Outside of fanfic that writes about real people, especially smut fics of real people, I support the art wholeheartedly. Fictional characters are one thing, but personally, caricaturing a celebrity’s life for public consumption and writing or drawing them in compromising content without their consent is a little weird. You do you. Don’t like, don’t read, as they say.

Fanfic is the perfect starting point for a few reasons:

It places you in a creative box and forces you to work within those constraints

It does all the worldbuilding and character concepts for you

It lets you write way outside your comfort zone

When published and receiving feedback, it boosts your self-confidence

It's incredibly flexible

It’s practice. All practice is good practice

—

Behold your creative box

When I was little I had no idea the majority of fanfic was shipping fics. I always pictured and looked for canon-divergent alternate universes. Like, what if X happened in this episode instead of Y? What if this character never died?

Fanfic demands you work within someone else’s canon, whether it’s an OC in the canonical world, or the canonical characters in an AU. These are like little bowling bumpers saving you from the gutter, but also keeping you on a straight-ish path toward the pins.

The indecisiveness of too many choices can be too intimidating when you’re first starting out. You want to be a writer but you have no idea where to begin, what genre to pick, what characters you want to chronicle, what themes you want to explore.

Even if it sits on your computer never to see the light of day, you still got those creative juices flowing.

Pre-packaged worldbuilding

Sometimes all we want is to get to the good stuff. Maybe I want to write a story about elemental magicians but Last Airbender already exists and I just want to play in a pre-existing sandbox. So I write some OCs into that world and have a free-for-all.

I don’t have to come up with my own lore, world history, magic system rules and mechanics, politics, geography—any of it. I get to just focus on the characters.

Even if you’re writing an AU, like say a coffee shop AU, you don’t have to think about brand new characters, you can just think “What would M do?” and go from there. The trade-off is your readers will expect canonical characters to behave in-character, but I think it’s worth it.

Stretch beyond your comfort zone!

Do you hate writing action scenes? Go practice with a shonen anime fic. Need work on dialogue? Write some high-fantasy fic, or a courtroom drama. Practice a fistfight by watching fistfights and writing what you see, and do it over and over again until what you read makes you feel like you're watching what’s on screen.

But beyond that—practice genres that you aren’t super familiar with. If you’re new to fantasy, write fantasy fic. Or a mystery novel/show, thriller, comedy, satire, adventure, what have you. The nature of fanfic still gives you those “guardrails” and you can get some brutally honest feedback on how you’re doing.

And, of course, the realm of M-rated romance and smut fics. I haven’t because I think I would die of embarrassment if I tried and I never intend to include sex scenes in my works anyway, but if you do want to, use the internet as your test audience. Post it on a throwaway account if you’re nervous.

Build that self-confidence!

The fandoms I used to write for are super dead, so it’s insane how I still get email notifications that so-and-so liked my fic to this day. Comments are as elusive as ever, but random strangers on the internet telling me they liked my work is a magical reassurance that my writing isn’t actually awful.

Random strangers on the internet are, as we all know, beholden to no moral obligation to be kind to your little avatar face, or be kind to be polite. So a rando taking the time to like my work or even leave a positive comment can feel more honest than one of my friends telling me what they think I want to hear.

I tend to avoid the more present aspects of fandom like online communities, forums, social media, what have you, so I get a delayed and diluted aspect of any given fandom through completed works. Which means, in general, I get to avoid the worst and most toxic aspects of fandom and get to sift through positive feedback and critique.

Even if your fanfic isn’t written with stellar prose, it’s fanfic. We don’t expect Pulitzer-prize winning content. And if your work isn’t up to snuff, people are more likely to just ignore it than put you on blast (at least in my experience, I never got a bad comment or a “flame” in the old FFN days).

Fanfic doesn’t care about the rules of published literature

On the one hand, try not to practice bad habits, but with this point I mean that your layout, punctuation, formatting, paragraph styles, chapter length–all of it is beholden to no rules. I get as annoyed as the next reader with giant blocks of paragraphs, or the double-spacing between pages of single-sentence paragraphs, but if the story’s good enough I might ignore it.

There’s more than just straight narrative fics, though. People write “chat” fics, or long streams of text and group chat conversations. The scene breaks can come super rapidly–I’ve seen fics with a single sentence in between line breaks to show the passage of time. And without the polish of a traditionally published novel, I’ve never seen a purer distillation of author voice in any medium more than fanfic.

All practice is good practice

Even if it’s crack fiction, or a one-off one-shot, or something meant to be lighthearted and straightforward and free from complex worldbuilding and intricate plots. It really helps break writer’s block when you can shift gears and headspaces entirely and you can get relatively instant feedback to keep you motivated.

Beyond that, the “guardrails” help you stay consistent as far as character growth and personality if you struggle with designing rich characters.

The most recent fanfic I wrote was just a couple years ago, for a dead fandom I didn’t think would get any traffic whatsoever. It wasn’t my original works, but the feedback on that fic gave me the kick in the butt I needed to get back into writing more seriously.

—

In short, I support fanfic. I may not be proud of my earliest fics' prose now, but I am proud that they walked so I can now run.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #fanfic #fanfiction #archive of our own #ao3 #ffn

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bureauofoverbalence · 5 months

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I made a lil cover for my fanfic :3

Story ao3 link> https://archiveofourown.org/works/32855515/chapters/81531067

enjoy, because Angus doesn't seem to be doing so!

[image id. Angus Mcdonald stands in frount of a swirling yeelow and blue background. there are teapots coffee cups, napkins, mugs, tea and spoons flying around him. Angus is a young teen with brown skin hair and eyes. He is wearing a green shirt with the sleeves rolled up and grey shorts, a a marron apron and pink cap. he stands trying hold or catch the items around him looking suprised and he has three explanation points above his head. the title Not to be confused with a coffee shop au is at the top and the artsist name at the bottom corner. end id]

#I forgot his bob bracer ffs #image described #the adventure zone #taz #taz balance #my fanfiction #angus mcdonald #not to be confused with a coffee shop au #ie angus gets a job #fanfiction #my art #illustration #mixed media

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sugarplumwritings · 8 months

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REACTIONS | Reacting To Your Sexy Costume

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Luke Skywalker

Timeline: Modern AU!

Reader: Fem Reader!

Note: In honor of the spooky season, I present this! work is hectic so this is something I finally have time around! hope you all like it.

Scenario: It's finally Halloween night, and you have to show off with your husband, of course though, he couldn't wait to see your surprise costume and it did get a reaction out of him.

------ ------ ------

Anakin Skywalker

Anakin emphasized that Halloween would be celebrated with a night in, but despite it being obvious in his voice, plans changed. Ben was having a costume party and invited you and Anakin to tag along to the party. Anakin hesitated at first, but seeing the glee and excitement on your face was enough for him to cave in and agree, but only for your sake. That's when Anakin went shopping for his own costume, while you tended to find your own because of how picky you were at the last few stores you checked. He would rather not ruin your mood and continue to let you have free control over how many stores you would stop at until you found the one you truly wanted.

Eventually, you did, and Anakin saw this as a green light, quickly paying and dipping at the speed of light to get home, smiling when he heard the squeal and mumbling of surprising him with your costume. Even if Halloween was slightly childish to Anakin in some sense, he nonetheless would do anything for you and allowed you to keep your costume to yourself until the night you would both be going to Ben's party. “Alright, you can surprise me, I Promise I won't say anything or glance at it,” He assured you with a small laugh to follow.

Now that night was happening, Anakin stood in his costume downstairs, tapping his foot ever so slightly against the floor. Waiting for you to get ready, Anakin didn't want to be all up on you presently, knowing you were excited for Ben's party and all, he would not push you about going any faster since he didn't want it to seem like he despised going. “Are you almost done?” He spoke across the house, his voice echoing. A small but loud hum could be heard in response. “Almost!” you called out to him. Anakin shakes his head, listening to the sound of the bedroom door. You walked towards the top of the stairs.

Anakin felt his eyes widen slightly, seeing you in such a sexy costume like that. Anakin had a thing for you in dark colors, so seeing the dark toned bodysuit hug your figure along with the sexy bunny ears was enough to make Anakin jump from his skin. Eyes traveling around your body, and zoning out as the sound of your voice, he was in a trance, and he wasn’t rushing to leave it. Anakin always found you sexy, and he always vocalized that too, now the costume spoke to him, and it proved his point why he found you so damn fine.

“Ani. I’m talking to you.” Your voice brought him back to reality, snapping him out of his haze. “I asked you, what do you think?” You spun around, giving him every possible view of the costume. This would either be with Anakin agreeing you looked beautiful and leaving for the party, or taking you back upstairs to handle you in that costume. “I think…you look so damn good. And I don’t think we’ll have time to get to that party” he grinned, his arm wrapping around your waist. “What? We can’t show up late to Ben’s party!” You sighed. Anakin chuckled, his hand rubbing your ass lovingly. “Looks like we’ll have to miss it. You started this problem. Now you get to fix what you did to me…” he spanked you. This caused you to wince as Anakin lifted you up, taking you upstairs.

Let’s just say, you didn’t make it to the party, but he made sure the night wasn’t quiet either and was well spent.

Obi-wan Kenobi

Ben didn’t mind doing things with you, even if that meant he originally didn’t want to do them. He still agreed upon his love for you, and he knew how much you wanted to dress up for Halloween. “It’s not silly, Ben, I know it sounds lame, but it’ll be fun! We can match!” You spoke with enthusiasm as he chuckled. “I suppose that’s true.” He leaned back on the couch. “Let’s go as Angel’s! You would look wonderful in a white suit!” You suggested. Ben glanced at you, humming in agreement after moments of his silence. “I suppose so, but are you sure you want to go to Anakin’s get together?” He asked. “Of course! Anything to see, Padme!”

Ben sat in the car now, waiting for you to make the surprise costume purchase. He knew that you and Padme were close and wanted as much time together as possible. Which is why he didn’t stop you despite not wanting to be at the store. But upon the glance of you exiting, he let out the breath he was holding in, glad to finally see you.

Now it was time for costumes, Ben was getting his suit ready, and still learning how to adjust to the fake wings on his back. “This is extremely uncomfortable.” He sighed. In hopes, you could hear him from the bathroom. “Oh relax, Mr. Kenobi.” You opened the door, Ben swore the moment he got a glimpse he fell in love again. The sexy white outfit really hugged your figure, and it brought out how beautiful and plump you truly were. “Well my…you look remarkable. Mrs. Kenobi. Glad to call you mine.” Ben walked over, wrapping an arm around your waist.

A small giggle passed your lips as Ben checked the time. “We have…two hours before we go… I could use some time with you” he said, trying to avoid the hard on pressing against his pants. “I guess I’ll make the most of it…” you blushed heavily.

Ben made sure to admire your body that night and let the feeling of your mouth stay on him. His hands gripped your halo tightly, and Ben was set for the night.

Luke Skywalker

Luke was fine with Halloween and when he heard that his lovely wife wanted to host a party, he agreed nonetheless. Luke knew about your close attachment to his sister, Leia. And he recalled you mentioning to him how you wished to Match with her, Luke could only agree more, respecting and accepting your choice. “It’ll be fun” you mentioned, on the couch with your husband, legs over his lap. “Does Han know?” He asked as you hummed. “Of course. Leia and I want to surprise with our costumes, so no snooping”.

That was hard, not snooping through your costume, but he once again loved you too much to go against your wishes, so Luke respected what you asked of him. He was itching though to find out. All he wanted to do was snoop through those bags and figure out what all the hype was about, just like Han wanted to do to Leia’s bags. “Well. Mrs. Skywalker, you have my word.” Luke smiled innocently, you thanked him, leaning up and pecking his lips softly.

What a time it was though, the home around that time was full of people, family members, and close friends. Luke stood with Han, the two bickering and sharing a few laughs to pass time. Luke couldn’t help but check the clock, noticing you hadn’t come down yet, which was unusual. You would usually run downstairs and be there to greet everyone. “She’s always down around this time…” he mumbled. Han nudged his side roughly, signaling him to look at the stairs, Luke glanced to see you and his eyes widened. Who knew a sexy fairy would look astonishing on just one person? Luke’s mouth hung up, he was melting at the sight of you.

Luke ignored everyone around him, going to the top of the steps. “Luke…what do you think?” You spun around with joy. “I think it’s perfect….” He mumbled, his eyes never leaving the perfect image of his wife. “Well. We should go see everyone.” You spoke, but Luke grabbed your arm, stopping you. “I have another idea…and we will not be here for a while.” He shakes his head.

It was hard keeping quiet, but thankfully Luke made sure the pillow was enough for you to bite into. Because his grip on your hips and wings didn’t stop him that night. If anything, no one got a glimpse of the married couple until a few hours later.

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room-on-broom · 2 years

Note

wing or window for the wip asks?

Have both! :3 Thank you! Taz one is Not to be confused with a Coffeeshop AU and the stingray is the next one shot in the works.

It did make for a very cute image of the two of them, Troy admitted. Stood together by the window, all soft expressions? Backlit by the warm sun light and both gazing at the bundle in Phone’s arms between them.

“I detect well enough to see through your shit costumes Dad!” Angus snapped. That Startled him. Well it startles angus too. but Taako stepped back sharpish, Knocking into an orc behind him. Who pushed him back with a “hey whatchit.”

Taako didn’t give two shits and is ready with shocking grasp before anyone can roll for initiative. Dale screams. Ruby yelps and jumps back, her wings up and out; knocking over a vat of warm milk and flooding the work tops.

#fanfiction #my fic #wip #ask game #the adventure zone #taz #stingray #thunderfam #stingray 1964 #not to be confused with a coffee shop au

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back2bluesidex · 6 months

Text

20 Years Late - KSJ

Pairing: Divorced, single dad!SeokjinX Best friend, Fem!Reader

Theme: Angst, Fluff, mutual pining, confessions, slice of life au, bf2l au.

Wordcount: 1.3k+

Summary: Seokjin could count on his fingers the things that haven't changed within these 20 years of his life, and one of those is you..

Warnings: mentions of unsuccessful marriage, divorce, mutual pining, quite angsty (Not like girl crush I promise), love confessions, crying, Seokjin is 40, reader is 39. SFW.

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: Happy Seokjin day! Hope our baby is happy and healthy. 💜

And I hope you all like this short piece. I personally like the way it turned out. Tell me what you guys think.

“Appa, you know you have to do it today, right?” Seokhee’s voice sounds less like encouragement and more like a threat. Seokjin knows his daughter well. He knows she will make his life a living hell if he fails to complete his mission today.

So, he has to do it. He has to do it today at any freaking cost.

“Yes, Seokhee! Appa knows.” Seokjin tries to calm his daughter down but in reality, he fails to stay calm himself.

He is nervous. There is a tremble in his hands, which he used to experience back in his rookie days.

Now that he is thinking of those days, he realizes so many things have changed, have been altered even. He used to be youthful, used to throw dad jokes all around, used to hit the club twice a month but now.. All he has is back pain, impending migraine before each boring meeting, and a skin thicker than earth’s mantle.

But he also has more experience, both professionally and personally, and patience. Certainly, a wrong marriage, fatherhood and a divorce has taught him enough about life and he is grateful for that.

He could count on his fingers the things that haven't changed within these 20 years of his life, and one of those is you.

You were with him when he used to be reckless and wild, you were with him when he took the vows he couldn’t keep, you were with him when he held Seokhee for the first time in his arms, you were with him when he signed those divorce papers and you still are with him.

You took care of not only him but also his daughter selflessly. He is grateful to you for all of it, but he is even more apologetic. You kind of sacrificed your life for your best friend, him, and his daughter, Seokhee. And as a result, you are 39 and unmarried.

What unsettles Seokjin even more is that he could have easily held your hands, looked into your eyes and told you that he loves you, he has been loving you for 20 years now… but he failed.

He failed you again and again on several occasions for numerous times in these 20 years. However, that is not what he wants to think of today. He is finally giving himself a chance, giving his life another chance… and giving you an idea of what you and him could be... together.

“Hey handsome, where are you so lost?” you appear out of nowhere and sit down beside him on the sand. Handing him the ice-cream cone, you take a lick from yours.

Seokjin jolts at your sudden appearance. He tries to calculate for how long he has been zoning out. He looks at his phone only to find out Seokhee has cut the call and the screen went back to his wallpaper.. him, Seokhee and you, a happy family... only if it actually was. He puts the device in his pocket.

“Took you so long.” he comments softly as he tastes the vanilla-flavored goodness on the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah. The queue was pretty long.” you point at the ice-cream shop residing a little far away from the place you two are sitting currently. “But it’s worth it. The ice-cream tastes really good. Seokhee would have liked it so much.”

Seokjin scoffs. He sometimes feels jealous of his own daughter because these days all you talk about is her. Is Seokjin nothing more than Seokhee’s father? Are those 20 years long memories fading from your brain or something? Can’t you look at him as Kim Seokjin, the 40 years old businessman, who loves you?

“You miss her, don’t you?” he turns his head to look at you. The mellow sea breeze has ruffled up your hair making it messy, you have a little bit of chocolate at the corner of your lips, your right elbow is covered with sand, your eyes are red and there are eyebags under those. But you are beautiful nonetheless. As beautiful as when he had seen you for the first time, when he was 20 and you were 19.

“Of course I do. I know your ex-wife takes good care of her but I can’t help being a little worried, which makes me miss her even more.” you pout a little. Seokjin’s heart melts into a puddle.

“And what about me? Do you miss me?” he adds a little suggestively, trying to find an answer or a question in your eyes.

“You are practically right here, Jin. Why the fuck will I miss you?” you giggle, nudging his shoulder with yours in the process.

“Not that, Y/N. Don’t you miss your Jinnie? You best friend? The person I used to be before getting married, before having Seokhee?” If Seokjin's voice sounds a little desperate, he does nothing to mask it. It’s you after all. He can show you the real him, the desperate version of himself who craves you and your love.

You smile a little, but there is a sadness in it that tugs at Seokjin’s heart strings.

“Yes. Yes I do. But I can’t let that take me over. Otherwise I will start wishing for impossible, forbidden things that I buried long, long ago.”

“What if those things are not forbidden? Not impossible? What if- what if the wishes are mutual?” Seokjin suggests.

Your expression changes in a heartbeat. When you look at him, he perceives moisture in your eyes. And you look hurt, as if he has trespassed a territory you clearly asked him to stay away from.

“You don’t know what you are saying, Seokjin.” Your voice trembles.

“Don’t call me that. Call me Jinnie, just like you used to 12 years ago.” Seokjin scoots closer to your body.

“I- I can’t-”

“Let’s start afresh. Both of us, you and me, together. Please?” Seokjin cuts you off.

“What? What are you even.. Jin? Are you pitying me right now? Are you extending your kind hands seeing me approaching my 40s without a partner?” Fat trails of tears roll down your cheeks and break Seokjin’s heart.

“No- what the fuck! No-” Seokjin tries to establish his ground but you cut him off.

“Then why? Tell me why are you proposing something so unreasonable like this? Are you joking with me?” you spat at him.

“Do I really have to spell it out for you? I love you! Are you happy now?” Seokjin shouts back, “do think it’s unreasonable to finally give my feelings a chance after debating for 20 fucking years?”

“Jin-”

“For god’s sake, Y/N. I have more gray hair than black these days! Do you think I will be joking about getting married with the woman I love at this age?”

“Are you-”

“Yes! Yes I am serious. I have been loving you since when I was 20 and you were 19. Hell! I took my wedding vows imagining your face and you are now accusing me of pitying you!” Jin’s own face is smeared with tears now. He didn’t even realize when he started crying.

“Was I the reason behind your unsuccessful marriage?” your voice sounds unsure as you address the elephant in the room.

“No. It was a marriage of convenience, none of us were happy. It had to end at a point and it did. You have nothing to do with it.” Jin replies, wiping the tears off of his face.

He finds you biting your lips as you stare at the sea ahead.

“It’s okay if you-” Jin gets silenced as you whip your head at the speed of lightning and place a chaste kiss on his lips.

“I love you too, Jinnie. I have always been in love with you, maybe even before you fell for me.” you murmur, connecting your forehead with his.

Tears roll down Jin’s cheeks again, but this time due to happiness. You wipe those with your thumb.

“Finally.. Finally you are mine.” Jin whispers as he leans in for another kiss.

“Yeah, you are a little too 20 years late but we are finally there.” you place your lips on his.

“I love you, Y/N” Jin mumbles in between the kiss, pulling you closer by your waist.

“I love you too, Jinnie.” You reply, wrapping your hands around his neck.

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie

#bts angst #seokjin angst #jin angst #bts fluff #seokjin fluff #jin fluff #bts x reader #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #bts x you #seokjin x you #jin x you #bts fanfiction #seokjin fanfic #kim seokjin #bts seokjin #happy seokjin day #bts

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