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averagewriter-inthedark · 1 year

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Got Ink? 💉 | Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd Imagine

Takes place before, during, and after the events of TGM

TGM masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x tattooed model!reader (romantic), dagger squad (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, mentions of pain as a result of tattoos. Slight suggestive content if you blink | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: 6k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: Art comes in many different forms. And when you technically think about it, your body is a canvas that can be become a mural if you find yourself drawn to the beauty that tattoos bring. For WSO Bob Floyd, he appreciated art in every form and loved how patterns and colors could create something beautiful. When his sister invites him to a party for her job shortly after returning from a special mission with the Navy, Bob meets a woman who was the perfect canvas he’d ever seen.

Note: I cannot tell you how much I loved doing this request. As soon as I got it I was like, ‘I’m gonna love this,’ especially as someone who has tattoos and wants to have a lot (I have at least twenty planned) this was feeding my love for tattoos. To the anon who sent this request I hope you like it, I really enjoyed writing this for you and I hope you’re okay with me choosing Bob since you said you wouldn’t mind if it was him or Jake—since I just did a Jake imagine I wanted to give Bob some love 🥹 Also I made it where reader was born in 1989 so if we were to go by Bob being born in 1993 like Lewis then she’d be about four years older since the events of TGM take place in 2019.

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They often say that when you get your first tattoo it will either be the one and only time you subject yourself to the temporary pain of permanent ink…or it becomes one of many.

“It’s an addiction”, people defend, though they should probably look up the term addiction before using it in such context.

For many it’s the appreciation of art. Whether expressing it by becoming a tattoo artist or wanting to capture the beauty by etching it onto their skin like they are its own personal canvas.

Tattoos come in many different forms. There’s the traditional/old school style that is very recognizable with its bold black lines outlining bright colors. People in their old age, having grown up in the 60s and 70s, are the ones usually seen with these types of tattoos. Neo-traditional is not that far off from traditional, just the lines are not as bold. Delicateness is seen with fine line tattoos. In recent years it’s become popular amongst the younger generation—not just because they are pretty to look at but if one has a job that’s strict on policy then they can hide them better.

The oldest style would be the tribal tattoos. Beautiful elaborate patterns in various sizes, they represent the culture one comes from. Like fine line, watercolor tattoos have become a popular style—taking away the traditional black ink used as an outline so the colors have the spotlight. No color in a piece is blackwork and then there’s realism where it’s pretty much a picture that was printed onto the skin. Go on Pinterest and you’ll find multiple images of patchwork style where a collection of pieces put together can be any style already mentioned.

Japanese style, patch, geometric, black & gray, anime, portrait, the list goes on and on. So many ways to put a design on one’s body where it will remain until they go to the next life. Some people stick to pieces that represent sentimental value, like family or childhood nostalgia, others will simply see something they like and go, “I think it looks cool.”

When looking at Y/n’s tattoos, both aspects were seen in the array of artwork coating her body. After getting all the pieces that represented a person, place, or thing that impacted her life, Y/n started to get whatever the hell she wanted—not having an explanation for anything other than, “it looked badass so I got it. No value behind it, I just wanted it.”

Like many newly turned teenagers itching to get their first tattoo, Y/n was bold and got an intricate design on one of the most painful spots. Her reasoning was if she did it, then any other place in the future wouldn’t be as bad. All through college whenever asked what she wanted for her birthday or holidays the answer was always money to get a tattoo. An artist herself, she majored in drawing while attending Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, New York, also taking on an apprenticeship for a local tattoo artist. There she would get to work on her skills and tattoo people, progressing to doing tattoos on her legs and non-dominant arm. Anytime she traveled to a different state or country during the semester she studied abroad, Y/n got a new tattoo, wanting to have an array of styles from different artists on her body.

By the time she was 26, she had accumulated over 50 tattoos and still had room for more. From her neck down, artwork ranging from fine line to bold and traditional decorated her skin. Both her arms were half sleeves, ending just above her elbows with patchwork along her forearms and hands. The only place free of ink on Y/n was her face, though she did have her inner lip tattooed. If you asked her, it’d be the only place she regretted getting ink because it faded so quickly. But then again, she could get it redone if she really wanted to.

There were looks from people anytime she went out. Y/n loved dressing up in little black dresses and two piece sets to unapologetically show off her tattoos. Older, conservative couples or people who thought tattoos looked trashy on women would look down upon her. Getting hit on was normal, though she never gave the time of day and sending one look that read, ‘get lost’ had men scurry. Sometimes she'd be approached by teenagers asking about certain pieces, saying they wanted to get tattoos once they were of age and were looking for advice. Biker bars were a place she felt comfortable in, Y/n even taking a part-time job as a bartender so make some extra cash. People from all ages—well at least 21–were covered in tattoos like her.

In 2014, shortly after her 25th birthday, Y/n noticed an inbox notification in her instagram. She was used to getting messages on occasion. Being featured on the bar’s and tattoo parlors business instagram pages and accumulating her own following of potential clients had Y/n reach up to 80 thousand followers. The tattoo artist she worked for was very popular, having done work for celebrities and being featured in Inked Magazine.

Speaking of Inked Magazine…..

When Y/n clicked on the icon to open the message, the first thing she spotted was the blue checkmark. Then beside it was in bold lettering inkedmag. Coffee nearly spilled onto the floor when her grip faltered, gasping lightly at the name. She didn’t even realize the page was following her, confirming this by searching herself under their following and found her username staring back at her.

Heart pumping, Y/n opened the message. “Hi, Y/n, my name is Manda Williams and I’m a representative at Inked Magazine. We’re a fan of your profile and would love to work with you on our upcoming campaign. Would you be interested? Please email me at [email protected], I look forward to talking with you soon.”

Never did she think she’d become a model, let alone a tattoo model. She was taller than the average woman, standing at about 5’10 and strikingly beautiful. On countless occasions family members would say, “if you didn't have all that on you maybe you’d been discovered. You’ve got the height, the style, and high fashion look. Plus you’ll never get a well paying job with all those tattoos.” All they were met with was a roll of the eyes from the woman, annoyed with the constant nagging.

“I’m an artist,” she would defend. “I got accepted into one of the most prestigious art schools in the country and I work for a very renowned tattoo artist who has had Snoop Dogg, Angelina Jolie, and Lady Gaga as clients. Not to mention I work at a biker bar where the people there love me. Want me to go further?” the look on their face would read they didn’t but Y/n would put the nail in the coffin with, “Let me point out the fact I get paid more with both those jobs combined than you working a nine to five in your little office job. Also you should educate yourself. Tattoo models do exist.”

If only those family members could see her now. Posing on a motorcycle in nothing but a bra and booty shorts as the camera flashed in front of her.

“You’re a natural, Y/n,” the photographer complimented, making her flustered.

She adjusted her position, running a hand through her hair, “If you think so I trust your judgment.” Being in a studio felt very different than when she would set up her phone on a tripod in her apartment. It took many tries for her to capture the perfect angle, often deleting fifteen out of sixteen photos. Here with this guy calling out movements, “a little to the left,” “bring your hand up—just under your chin, perfect,” “Now act like you’re suntanning on the beach—tilt your head back as though the sun is in your face,” Y/n felt what it was like to be a model.

Not many tattooed individuals got the chance to sign with top agencies like Ford and IMG. Very few were recruited so it came as a big surprise when an agent from IMG Models contacted her following the release of Inked Magazine’s issue. When she took the job she thought it would be a small section in the magazine itself. Instead, she was on the cover.

“You don’t have an agent?” Bonnie’s tone was confused, staring back at Y/n from behind her desk as they sat in her office at the IMG headquarters. Bonnie had seen her cover on Inked, immediately going to Y/n’s instagram where she contacted her though the email listed on the tattoo parlors page. From there she asked the artist to bring a portfolio, which she was shocked to find out wasn’t much. “That was your first model job?”

Y/n shrugged, making a face like it was obvious, “Unless you count the dozens of comments I get on instagram beggin for my next post, yeah it was. I’m a bartender and tattoo artist, modeling wasn’t something I thought was in the cards.” She refrained from adding, “also didn’t think IMG scouted people like me.”

It was safe to say Y/n was unlike the typical runway model. Every now and then a high fashion show would hire a man with tattoos to walk for them. Very rare would you see a woman on the runway. For Y/n, that seemed to be the case in the beginning of her career. She did walk in the Marco Marco show that year which was the highlight of her life. Inked Magazine got so much response on her first feature that they made her their staple girl. Y/n worked with them the most on campaigns and even got to do a cover shoot with celebrities like Travis Barker and Kehlani. Those features got her a lot of recognition to the point she hit one million followers on instagram.

It wasn’t until Y/n went viral on the internet for her Sports Illustrated cover and becoming the first inked model to be featured in a Victoria Secret campaign that the top designers were booking her. Before long she was auditioning for brands during fashion week, securing Tom Ford, Calvin Klein, and Oscar de la Renta. Due to her tattoos being the star of the show, there were hardly any clothes on her save for tiny tops and skirts or dresses with intricate cutouts. She didn’t mind of course. After all, her tattoos were a part of her and the reason she was getting the opportunities of a lifetime.

Milan, Paris, London, New York. Fashion week was gonna have to get used to a new face in town.

Vogue, GQ, Vanity Fair, Inked. Pick up an issue and you’d find Y/n on at least one page, if not the cover.

Every now and then she’d get asked to appear in music videos for bands. The Weekend once asked her to be the cover art for one of his singles, bringing her more attention as "The Inked Beauty from Blinding Lights cover art.”

She appeared on the Inked Magazine YouTube channel several times. The most popular video being when she did a Q&A released shortly after walking in the last ever Victoria Secret Fashion Show in 2018, becoming the first inked model to walk the VS runway. Though it had low ratings, Y/n’s bit was plastered on every social media site, many tweeting: “the best thing VS could’ve done for their final show was put Y/n L/n in it. She carried the damn thing.”

“Hello, I’m Y/n L/n,” she smiled shyly at the camera, her agent Bonnie and publicist giving a thumbs up. “I’m a tattoo and high fashion model from New York City. You may recognize me from the cover of Inked Magazine, or discovered me through some of my other projects over the last couple years—hell maybe I even tattooed you at one point,” chuckling as she feels her nerves slowly evaporate. “Today I’m here with Inked Magazine, the owners of my heart and career, and I'm gonna answer some questions sent in by you guys about my tattoos and career.”

The producer gives a nod, “Ready, Y/n.”

“Let me hear them, sonny boy.”

“What was your first tattoo and at what age did you get it?”

Thankfully she was wearing a tube top beneath her jacket, removing the clothing to reveal the many inked designs on her chest, and stomach. Pointing to the one just below her ribs, Y/n says, “So this was my first one—as you can tell by how faded it is compared to the others. I got it when I was eighteenth birthday, literally wasted no time and my family is actually who inspired it.”

“As of right now, how many tattoos do you have?” The question has Y/n think for a moment, tilting her head back slightly.

“I counted just the other week and I think it was close to…. seventy,” nodding she adds, “yeah I think that’s right. I know I had fifty when Inked contacted me four years ago for my first feature. So I’ve added twenty to the collection since.” She made a mental note to count again when she got home that night.

“Do you have any tattoo regrets?”

A nervous chuckle escaped, “Fuck, uh….yes,” she looks down shamefully, but gives a shrug like, ‘I can explain.’ Lifting her head back up, Y/n takes her two index fingers and gently pulls down her bottom lip to reveal the messy smudged ink that once read, ‘baby girl’. The camera zoomed in and once they got a good shot of it Y/n let her lip fall back into place, “I don’t know if you were able to read that but when it was freshly done eight years ago it said,” she pulled a face showing she was too embarrassed to say it. “It said ‘baby girl.’ I got it when I was twenty on a dare and frankly I thought it would be hot, but it faded so quick—which,” she raised a finger, “that’s the one place I would say don’t get a tattoo. Even though it’s technically temporary…you’ll end up with a blob of ink like mine and it’s not cute.”

“Where were the most painful spots you got tattooed?” Immediately she lifted her arms to show she had ink on her armpits.

“These basterds right here,” the producer and crew laughed, nodding along with her. “You feel me? Yeah, I thought the ones on my stomach and ribs were bad. Those were a tickle compared to my armpits—-oh and my elbows. I think I actually broke a sweat when I got those done. It’s why I have yet to conquer my knees,” patting the covered area, Y/n shakes her head, “I don’t know If i can do it. But funny enough, these tiny little hearts on my palms,” Y/n flashed her palms up, the camera focusing on the two red lined hearts in the middle of each hand. “These hurt so bad. Thankfully I’m not putting anything else here because I strictly wanted the hearts, so I’m sparing myself.”

“What do they mean?” The producer asked, taking a pause from reading out the next question. The little smile Y/n gave was shy.

“I was told a lot growing up that I keep my heart in the palm of my hand,” while she explained Y/n kept glancing at the hearts, “kinda like the saying, ‘wearing your heart on your sleeve,’ but with me it’s literally in the palm of my hand. So I got these little hearts on my palms—that way when I hold someone’s hand, they can feel the love and care I have for them,” sending a wink to the camera she finishes with, “because my heart is in my palm.”

“Have you ever dated anyone with more tattoos than you?”

“Noooo,” she snorts. “Not because I’m not open to it—I’m very attracted to people with tattoos. And I have dated people with a lot…it just seems that anytime I do get into a serious relationship, I’m the one who has more than the other. And if you’re thinking about who I think you are—,” Y/n points directly to the camera, like a mother scolding her child, “the answer is no, he did not have more than me. Louis has thirty-three, I believe, since the last time he and I talked—which was,” she pauses to think, “I think around New Year’s.”

“Do you find yourself enjoying campaign shoots or runway shows more?”

“That’s hard,” Y/n pouts, causing her agent to chuckle since she knew the answer first hand. “Both are fun in their own way. I love being able to come into a studio or go out on sight and do a photo shoot—except in the fucking winter because I’m usually half naked freezing my ass off.” She pauses to laugh with the crew before continuing. “And then there's this feeling of ‘wow, that just happened,’ when I step off the runway. Getting to work with designers I’ve idolized since childhood and being the face of Mugler is a dream come true. If I had to choose…..it would be campaigns and photo shoots. There I can express myself more freely.”

“Do you see yourself still modeling in ten to twenty years time?”

There was a question she had to think about, taking a moment before answering. “I sure hope so. I love my job and definitely see myself continuing in the future. As long as my agent Bonnie and Inked don't get tired of me,” she laughs, winking at the woman who blows her a kiss. “But honestly I have experience as a tattoo artist so I could see myself opening my own parlor. I’d love to start my own blog or get other tattoo models into the industry. There’s a lot to think about what the future holds, but for right now I’m gonna have fun in the present.”

While home in New York when not booked, Y/n continued to work part-time at the tattoo parlor. She left the bar shortly after signing with IMG, but still visited whenever she could. There was even a picture of one of her Inked shoots framed above the bar.

With her new found fame the parlor had little to no openings each month. Regulars and new clients had to call in to reserve an appointment the second the schedule was dropped, which was sometimes weeks in advance. Several of the friends Y/n made in the modeling industry would get tattoos from her, though they always tended to go for the fine line style. More celebrities booked with her boss, adding Cardi B, Rihanna, and Louis Tomlinson to the list. The latter whom, as mentioned, Y/n actually got romantically linked to in mid 2017. It only lasted a few months, but the photo of the two on the Inked instagram was the most liked on their page.

Louis wasn’t the only high profiled person Y/n was involved with. Unfortunately the downside to fame meant her personal life was to be blasted on every inch of the internet. From starting her modeling career in 2014 to spring of 2019, she’d been spotted with actors Michael B. Jordan, Tom Felton, and fellow model Vladimir Ivanov. Like Louis, they only lasted a couple weeks to months—save for Vladimir which lasted almost over a year—and ended on good terms where they remained friends.

Frankly when it came to settling down Y/n hoped to find someone who was sweet and down to earth. Who was a hard worker—passionate about what they did for a living and wanting to share that with her. Someone who could make her laugh and feel like she was the only girl in the world. It was hard finding someone like when the spotlight follows you around. Y/n had been in the public eye going on six years and due to her connections with big named people she never seemed to catch a break when it came to romance.

All those qualities she desired in a life partner came to her in the form of the adorable weapons system officer she met at a party in November of 2019. The poor guy felt so out of place. From behind the bar Y/n could see him at the corner glancing around like he was searching for someone. Only getting a glimpse at the side of his face, she didn’t recognize him. The party had many from the fashion industry to celebrate Anna Wintour’s 70th birthday. What was ironic was Y/n took up the task of working the bar, kicking into her skills from when she was a bartender at a popular biker club in Manhattan. With her view she was able to see the entire floor as people entered.

The man she’d been eyeing must’ve come in when she was busy making the Hadid sisters their drinks. He wore a white dress shirt with some slacks and a matching blazer. His glasses reminded her of the popular style from the 80s. Come to think of it, they were probably the aviator style. He was tall, roughly six foot so she’d be eye level with him considering she was wearing two inch kitten heels.

Seeing his flustered demeanor and the fact he looked like he didn’t know what the hell he was doing there—not to mention he was handsome from what she could see, Y/n waltzed over, “May I get you anything?”

When he spun around she was met with the most gorgeous pair of blue eyes staring back at her. They blinked rapidly, like they were trying to decipher if she was in fact real. Then they snapped straight to her neck, following the ink of the exposed skin on display from her red latex mini dress—which his face mirrored the color of since he was making it quite known he was checking her out. He had a baby face to him, which was kinda adorable, and Y/n assumed he was maybe a year or two younger than her.

Offering a smile Y/n said, “So what will it be?”

“Huh?” He said confused before remembering what she initially asked before he got distracted. “Oh uh, just water please.” Still smiling, Y/n took a clean empty glass and filled it with ice before adding the water. Finishing it with a straw she placed it on a napkin in front of him.

“Will that be all?”

“Yes. Thank you,” he took the glass, glancing around briefly before letting his shoulders drop.

“You seem a bit out of place,” Y/n wiped down the countertop, catching his attention again. The man nervously laughed, adjusting his glasses.

“Is it that obvious?”

“A bit,” she teased, nodding her head to the crowd in front of them. “All these people walk around like they own the place. You’re the first person I’ve seen tonight who doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing. Are you here with someone?” Part of her was hoping he’d say a friend invited him, feeling a sudden rush of butterflies at the way he looked at her—like he couldn’t believe she was real.

“My sister dragged me along,” he confirms, the model mentally sighing in relief. But she couldn’t get her hopes too high. For all she knew he may have a partner back home. “I was visiting her this past week and she begged me to come. I told her it was a bad idea since I’m not….part of this crowd.”

“Ah,” she hums, biting back a grin at the way he described the industry. “Not a model or influencer, I take it?”

“Nooooo,” his laugh filled her stomach with butterflies. “Not at all. I don’t know how to work social media. Are you?”

Y/n refilled a guest's drink and handed over a beer to another, “I dabble here and there,” it was refreshing to meet someone who wasn’t familiar with her work. Usually at events like the one they were at she had people coming up to her already knowing who she was. “You’re probably like, ‘thought she was just a bartender,’” she giggled at the flustered look taking over him. “I was one before being discovered. I’m doing this for fun honestly—-and because Anna likes what I make her.”

His eyes went to her neck and collarbones, lingering on the ink. She assumed he’d never seen a model with so many tattoos before. “You can look,” she smirked, when he glanced away from being caught staring. “You’re only seeing a small portion of the canvas,” his eyes went wide at her words, making her giggle, “these babies are the reason I’m in this business.”

“You're a tattoo model?”

Y/n raises a brow at the surprise in his tone, “Didn’t know they existed, handsome?”

“No-no,” he quickly apologizes, “sorry I meant no offense. I knew there were models with a lot of tattoos. My sister told me that the industry was starting to expand by signing more people with them.” His words have Y/n intrigued. Obviously his sister was someone in the business, she wondered if she knew her.

“Is your sister one?”

“No, she’s an agent,” Y/n stops what she’s doing, towel long forgotten.

“For a modeling agency?”

“Yeah.”

“Which one?” Just as the question left her lips, Bonnie’s voice interrupted the two, “Bob, there you are! Oh good—,” she grins wide when she sees who he’s talking to, “You guys met!”

Snapping their heads toward each other, the two have the same expressions of, “wait what?”

Bonnie claps her hands, coming beside Bob at the bar and motioning between the two, “Y/n, this is my brother, Robert—the one I was telling you about last week,” mouth slightly agape, remembering the conversations the two had about Bonnie’s brother—in which the agent suggested setting up a date between the two—Y/n watches Bob react the same when Bonnie then says, “Bob, this is Y/n L/n. One of my clients at IMG—I know I’ve mentioned her before to you.”

Not knowing what to do at first, Y/n extends her hand to formally introduce herself, “So you must be the famous, Bob,” butterflies swarm her stomach again by the warmth of Bob’s hand when he goes to shake it. “I’m Y/n. So nice to finally meet you—Bonnie’s told me a lot about you.”

“W-wow,” Bob stutters, mentally hating himself when he does. “It’s really nice to meet you too, ma’am. I wasn’t expecting to meet you tonight, but now I see why Bonnie was so adamant I come.” A pointed look is thrown at Bonnie, who shrugs with a smile like she did no wrong.

“Well seeing as you two found each other without me, I’ll leave you both to it. Bob, let me know if you plan on riding with me back to the house or if you catch a ride. And Y/n I’ll see you bright and early Monday morning.” Winking, Bonnie takes the Cosmopolitan Y/n made for her and scurries off, leaving the two alone.

“I should’ve known,” Y/n laughs lightly, topping off Bob’s water. “Your sister has brought you up the past couple times she and I have gotten together,” lips curl into a smirk, “she wasn’t lying when she said you were a cutie.”

Bob turns red, smiling shyly, “when she told me about the inked beauty she worked with, she left out the fact you’re a walking piece of art.” His boldness impressed her, Y/n leaning closer to him against the bar top, resting her elbow on to so she could lean her head on her hand.

“How long are you gonna be in New York?”

“Till Wednesday,” part of her was disappointed that it was only four days away considering it was currently Saturday. But it was enough time for something to blossom.

“Tell me about yourself, Bob. The night’s early and I could listen to you talk for hours. Let’s see if Bonnie was psychic when she said we’d be quite the puzzle when put together.”

Ever heard of the type of couples where the girl radiates black cat energy and the guy is a literal golden retriever?

That was Y/n and Bob to a tee.

Out in public they stood out—even in a city like New York. Then when Y/n went to San Diego to meet his friends for the first time after four months together—which also resulted in her being stuck in California due to lockdown from the covid pandemic—it was like everyone couldn’t believe someone like Bob was with someone like Y/n.

He was a quiet, reserved naval officer and she was a sharp-tongued, world renowned tattoo model. They were the definition of the couple in high school you’d never expect would hit it off.

When Bob introduced Y/n to the squad, they instantly knew who she was, but had different ways of discovering her. Nat saw her walk in the VS Fashion show, Mickey and Reuben recognized her from The Weekend’s cover art, Javy remembered her from an episode of Ink Master she appeared on, Jake saw her on the cover of Sports Illustrated, and Bradley actually got a tattoo from Y/n when he was in NYC.

The entire period Y/n was in San Diego she grew close to the squad, even Maverick who had a lot of questions about her work and tattoos. “You think I’d look good with them at my age?” Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at the question, ensuring the Captain with a pat on the back.

“Some of the sexiest men I’ve met have been your age with ink more in than me,” she giggles when he goes red. “I worked at a biker bar in New York City. Believe me, Pete. Anyone can look good with some ink.”

Needless to say when it came time for Mav to get a tattoo, Y/n was the one doing it.

A lot of the squad ended up getting work done by her. Jake, Mickey and Rooster had a few already so they were familiar with the process. Nat only had one from a drunk night in college, which Y/n redid on her behalf since it had faded. Payback was a man who liked bold, meaningful tattoos so sometimes Y/n had her work cut out for her but she always came through.

“Yo is this gonna hurt bad,” Javy was practically sweating as Y/n removed the stencil from his shoulder. The design was a geometric sun about the size of an airpod case.

“It’ll sting, but this area generally isn’t too painful. If this was your bicep then it’d be a different story.”

Javy didn’t look convinced, turning to look at the guys while the stencil dried, “How was it for you guys?”

“Didn’t hurt at all for me,” Rooster shrugged, “my bicep was worse—like she said.”

“Yeah, you’ll be fine,” Payback waved a hand. “You see how tiny it is? It’ll be over before you know it.”

Going over the details once more to confirm the colors and shading, Y/n moved her chair closer after turning on the tv to an episode of Chopped. “You ready, Jav?”

“Ready,” he didn’t really sound like it but it was too late to back out. The buzz of the needle filled his ears and soon the stinging sensation they all said had him clutching his first.

“Try to relax, man” Bob sat on the chair next to Y/n, “being tense won’t help.”

After over a year of dating Bob had his fair share of tattoos. His were mostly small and easily hidden by his uniform. When they first got together, Bob loved learning about her tattoos. When she got them, why she did. If there were any meaning behind certain ones and if she planned to get more.

She was like a walking art gallery. So many colors and styles. Large and small. Y/n told him stories about almost every one—even if they were embarrassing like the inner lip tattoo.

“Biggest mistake,” she wiped a tear after she was done, the two laughing so hard. “Not only did it hurt but it faded not even a year after I got it. Now it looks so bad—I should get it redone but what’s the point when it will just end up looking the same.”

Bob hated when people would give her looks of disproval when they’d go out, usually from those who were unfamiliar with Y/n’s work. One time he nearly got into a bar fight with a older gentleman who thought it was okay to call Y/n a Jezebel. Rooster and Mickey had to hold him back, but Y/n simply looked at the guy and said, “Baby, I’m a fucking millionaire because of these bad boys. While you’re about to kick it the dust I’m gonna be on the cover of Vogue magazine next month. So eat shit and die already.” The man was left speechless, making her and the squad smirk in victory. The equally tatted bartender who knew of Y/n whistling and even given her a free round.

“That was so fucking hot,” Bob pulled her into a searing kiss when they left the bar moments later, Y/n smirking against his lips, “You think that was hot? I’m a mess under these pants from seeing you so worked up, baby. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Whenever he and Y/n would cuddle she’d trace the raised ink with a finger, Bob doing the same to hers and committing them to memory. He loved to kiss the ones on her neck and collarbones, but his favorite were the tiny hearts on the palms of her hands.

“What do these mean,” he asked one day during the early days of their relationship. They were laying out on the hammock, taking her hands to admire the collection of small tattoos along her fingers and wrists. He hadn't even realized she had any on the palms until he flipped them over. There his thumbs traced over the red outline of each heart.

“If you ask any person I’ve ever loved or cared for they’d tell you I carry my heart in the palm of my hand,” she flips her hands so they are holding Bob’s, the tattoos against his skin. “So when I hold people’s hands, they know a piece of my heart lies with them.” Letting her head fall back against his shoulder, Y/n shifts so her lips are against his jaw. “And I’m kinda hoping you’re the only one who gets to hold them from here on out.”

Anytime after that Bob would press a kiss to the hearts whenever he held her hands. Then when asked about what tattoo of Y/n’s was his favorite his answer was always, “the hearts.”

His family adored her. At first they were put off by her striking image but learned quickly Y/n was perfect for Bob. The children of his siblings loved taking washable markers to color in the tattoos Y/n had that were black and white. “Can I draw you a tattoo someday?” Little Emma asked shortly after the couple celebrated one year. She was a little artist who loved asking questions about the pretty pictures on Y/n.

“Of course, my love,” she promised. “Draw me whatever you desire and I shall get it done.”

The first fashion show Y/n booked after the pandemic Bob had front row seats. With his phone out he was the ultimate cheerleader, though he refrained from whistling or making noise so as to not embarrass the model, but would be in absolute awe when she strutted past him. It was the Tom Ford show, Y/n had walked out in a long black trench coat, coming to the end of the runway first before removing the item to reveal a silk dress underneath. It was spaghetti strapped with an open back, thigh slit to compliment her legs and the cameras loved it. She walked a few steps back up and turned to strike one last pose before making her exit.

Bob was mesmerized. It was the first time he’d seen her walk the runway and my God if he wasn’t already a simp he sure was then. A photographer captured his reaction to her discarding the coat and it went viral on Twitter.

@ inmyreputationera: if my man doesn’t look at me like @inkedbyY/n bf at NYFW then I don’t want it.

@ Inked✔️: We’re all Bob Floyd when @inkedbyY/n steps onto the runway.

When it came time to pick out her wedding dress Y/n was unsure of the route to go. It’d been five years the two were coming up on, one year of being engaged with the wedding to take place in North Island. A beach wedding in the late fall, Y/n wanted to look elegant and classy.

“Whatever you choose you’ll gonna look amazing, darling,” Bob kissed her head after she sighed when shuffling through bridal magazine pictures of dresses she’d cut out. “You know I love your tattoos—they are a part of you and I don’t want you feeling like you have to cover up for the sake of pictures. Baby, you’re one of the top models in the world. Like you told me when we first met, those babies are what got you discovered. Show them off.” Rubbing her shoulder exposed from her tank top, his lips pressed to the ink covering the skin. “But if you like this,” he pointed to the dress she kept going back to in her pile, it was elegant and pretty with neckline that fell just below her collarbones. “Then you should get it because you love it.”

The ceremony dress ended up being the one with a high neckline. It had open back with Y/n deciding on a her veil cascading down to the floor to become a small train rather than having the dress itself have it. Lace covered her arms, the ink peeking out from beneath to make the material stand out more due to the contrast.

She was stunning. An actual goddess that had Bob’s jaw drop the second his eyes landed on her. For the reception Y/n changed into a white two piece set that showed off her legs.

And you best believe she hired local tattoo artists to do a ‘spur of the moment’ tattoo booth at the party.

It didn’t take long for Inked Magazine to want to do a bridal shoot with Y/n. And if you look at it one way, it was a full circle moment. The issue marked ten years since they discovered Y/n and blessed her with the career of a lifetime that led her to meeting the love of her life.

All because she had a knack for getting ink.

……………..

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black @wildellaa

#Spotify #bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x y/n #robert floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd fluff #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick #lewis pullman imagine #lewis pullman #tattoo!reader #tgm fluff #tgm imagine

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glitterock · 1 year

Text

Call For Submissions

Hello! So i’ve decided i want to create a collaborative zine based on an essay I’m writing titled “Femme Dyke” on the lesbian experience and would love to collect other submissions written by and for the community! The title is based off of a piece I have written, but I don’t want this to be a femme-specific project. Ideally butch, femme, masc, dyke, androgynous, fluid, unlabelled, and any and all lesbian voices in between would be represented! I’ll be accepting around 10 (subject to change based on interest) pieces including essays, short stories, poems, songs, interviews, visual art, photography, and memoirs.

Rules for Submission:

* Must be a lesbian to submit. I love all my queer family, but this will be a collection of writing based on the lesbian experience

* Can be as short or long as you want as long as it’s 12 pages or under (size 12 font, regular 1.15 spaced). If you only want to write a few words, just write a few words! If you want all 12 pages, take all 12 pages!

*You may submit multiple pieces of work but only one submission will be chosen

* You can access this submission form until January 21st at 11:59 pm est (if you need up to a week extension please message me to work that out but try to stick to this deadline)

* Along with your written/visual submission, please include your full name/an alias you’d like to use, any socials/a website if you have one you’d like to include (not required) and a short biography (one paragraph long) about yourself, where you’re from, and any additional information you’d like to add written in the 3rd person. You may add a picture to your biography if you feel comfortable doing so!

* All submissions will be edited by me, but this most likely won’t go farther than spelling and punctuation changes. If I have any notes whatsoever i’ll run them by you and you’ll see and approve of the final copy of your piece before print/posting

* This goes without saying, but transphobia, racism, and hostility towards other queer identities will not be tolerated or printed

Examples for what to write about include but absolutely are not limited to:

* how your sexual identity as a lesbian intersects with other minority identities you may have

* your "Ring of Keys" moment

* your place in the lesbian community and how you relate to it

* coming out story and how that shaped you as a person/the relationships you have

* an interview with a lesbian you know

* being trans and a lesbian

* guide to eating pussy for beginners

* your first time falling in love/getting your heart broken

* a funny life story or anecdote that relates to lesbianism

* your identity (butch, femme, etc.) and what that means to you

* sexual experience/advice/ stories or how you relate to sex as a lesbian

* the colonization of gender and sexuality

* write a love letter! to lesbianism, your partner, a lover, a hook up, to butches, to femmes, to trans lesbians, to POC lesbians, to your friends, to yourself, to your vibrator!

* poetry, an original song, or a visual art piece about any of these topics or a topic related to lesbianism (note that visual art will be printed in black and white)

If your work is chosen, I will be in contact with you by January 28th to discuss further! Not every submission is guaranteed a spot.

Thank you so much and I look forward to reading all submissions!

submission form:

#lesbian #femme lesbian #wlw #sapphic #lgbt #queer #femme4butch #femme #butch #butch4femme #lesbian writing

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httpknjoon · 8 months

Text

marry me chicken | ksj

plot | After this dinner night with Jin, you learned how far can a chicken dish go.

word count | 1.9k+

genres | fluff, humor, slight angst, established relationship au, celebrity au

pairing | actor!jin x famous!reader

note | i love this couple so much. it's always easy writing about them two <3 enjoy reading!

main masterlist | the a-listers: confidential masterlist

"I don’t think I’ll marry. I mean it’s not like I’m against marriage. It’s just that I really enjoy being on my own for now.”

That line was your answer in one of the interviews you’ve done for a magazine cover when you barely turned 20. You don’t even remember why the interviewer was asking such a thing who just entered their twenties, but you remembered why you answered that.

At the time of that interview, you were living alone for the longest time. You have been residing in your own house since you were fifteen, learning to do things on your own. When you don’t have any agenda, you usually find yourself silently reading books in your then-small garden while wearing your pajamas or writing random thoughts in your room while playing some music in the background. You avoid going out then as you feel like the paparazzi are just burning holes in your skin. Every time you go out before, you would hear new made-up stories about you.

But now, you’re sitting on your kitchen counter, watching this man prepare tonight’s dinner with his favorite apron on. The appetizing aroma of butter and garlic makes its way through your senses. He loves cooking, you learned about that fact before you two even began dating, and you love watching him doing things he loves. This is how you usually spend your date nights for the past two years: in each others’ houses, enjoying the company of one another without cameras following you around.

Moments like this, where it’s just you and Jin doing things alone, make you think about the things you said. You would simply take that back and burn every print of paper with that statement. You two already discussed your future plans but when it came to marriage, it was vague and rarely mentioned.

‘Bub, I’ll melt.” Jin suddenly said as he placed a piece of chicken on a plate.

Your head lifted since you were resting it at the palm of your hands, “Hmm?”

Jin looks at you. He can tell that you didn’t really get what he said. You had a confused look on your face and he just shook his head with a smile and chuckle.

“You were staring at me,” he told you.

You laughed before making a dramatic eye roll, “Oh, please. Can’t a girl lovingly watch her boyfriend making dinner for her?”

“No, she can’t because her boyfriend gets so self-conscious when he feels her eyes on him,” Jin replied.

You laughed once again, now walking in his direction, and slowly wrapped your arms around his waist while Jin tried to focus on garnishing his dish. Taking in the smell of his perfume and the softness of his sweatshirt, you mumbled behind him,

“We’ve been dating for more than two years now. I really expected you not to blush every time I watched you focus on something. You should get used to it or else…”

“Or else what, Bub?”

Suddenly, Jin turned around still caged in your arms. His chin sticks on his chest as he tries to meet your eyes. There, he sees a cheeky grin on your lips.

“Or else I might look at something else—”

“Now that you wouldn’t do,” he smirked, wrapping his arms all over you. ‘Because I won’t let you. I’ll just make you look at me while I feel shy rather than letting your eyes go somewhere else. I won’t let that happen. Your eyes can’t look at somebody else. Just me. Only me.”

“Ooh, possessive. I like it.” You squinted your eyes at the same time you wiggled your brows, making him chuckle.

“You know I am.” he teased back. “Anyway, let’s go enjoy what I cooked. Prepare the wine while I put these on the table.”

You nodded, “Okay. Noted, sir.”

He snickered with that. The dinner went on with you, Jin, and your dining table with a lit candle for a romantic effect. Your daughter, Francheskat, was also quietly walking around the whole time. She was just observing you and your boyfriend while you chatted about different topics, looking judgy the whole time.

“How was it?” your boyfriend asked with a small piece of chicken left on your plate.

You hummed at first, chewing on the meat, before answering with your mouth full, “It’s creamy, it’s juicy. It’s perfect, I love it! Where did you find this recipe?”

You were so lost in the meal that you didn’t notice Jin shifting on his seat and gulping down, “Online…”

“Hmm, okay.”

Throughout the whole home date, Jin didn’t let you do anything except pour the wine for you two. He was the one who cooked and cleaned up even though you insisted on helping him in your own house.

“At least let me wash the plates.”

“No, you’ll sit down right there or I’ll tie you up–”

Jin just realized what he was saying as soon as it came out of his mouth. He turned his head to the side, where you sat again on the kitchen counter with your chin on your palms. You squinted again,

“Ooh, that’s so kinky of you, Sir.”

You wanted to laugh out loud at how he looked away with flustered red ears and neck. Ever since that time, you two did that thirsty tweets segment for Buzzfeed, you liked teasing him with anything that had something to do with him that had sexual undertones. Jin can’t do anything about it since he finds it hilarious how good you can always circle back on that kind of topic when he’s talking about other topics. It shuts him up sometimes. It didn’t help that he easily blushed and you knew a lot about him after that thirst tweet segment.

“Guess, I’ll just go wait outside.” you stood up with a playful smirk. “Francheskat, honey, let’s go.”

Almost an hour later, you and Jin are just chilling in your backyard. You had your favorite picnic blanket laid out on the green grass with your pillows. The fairy lights you had installed when you bought the house set up the mood perfectly. You sat there while Jin laid his head on your lap. He was talking about a project he auditioned for while you read the script he got for it.

“It was nice. The character seems well thought out and so is his backstory…”

You tried to stay present and listen to his enthusiasm for the role but he mentioned something that you have been thinking about for the last few months.

“Like, he was doing what he was asked to do for the sake of his marriage with Jen’s character–”

“Do you think you’ll ever marry me?” you blurted out of nowhere.

Silence became so loud as you felt Jin slowly move away from your lap. You pursed your lips, looking away while feeling the embarrassment boiling in your stomach.

“What?” Jin asked in a tone you cannot comprehend. Happy? Shocked? Confused?

Well, you can’t tell because you won’t look at him, “Nothing. Nothing. Let’s not talk about it anymore. Maybe I should get more wine–”

You were about to get up, wanting to leave the scene you began, but Jin held your wrist to stop you from going. Finally, you looked at him. And you don’t know if it’s the fairy lights or the wine but his eyes seemed to sparkle more like a little kid. His lips were slightly opened and seemed to form into a small smile.

“Stay.”

Sighing, you sat back down and your boyfriend did the same thing, properly meeting your eyes. You bit your inner cheeks. It felt like there was a drum inside your chest while you asked yourself in your head why you asked such a question. But Jin’s face remained calm— or happy? His lips were pursed but you can see the ends of his lips turning upward.

“Let’s just act I didn’t ask that. It’s embarrassing,” you mumbled, looking down.

You heard him chuckle. He reached for your hands and subtly played with your fingers by clasping them with his. You felt his lips, light as a feather but soft as a pillow, on your knuckles.

“You know… I have no other person in mind if someone would ask me who I want to spend the rest of my life with. Except you. If I were to write my vows, I would like them to be dedicated to you and no one else. So yeah, I think I would marry you.”

Fuck wine. Yes, you’re blaming it on the wine because how can you sob over three sentences your boyfriend just said while you two sat under fairy lights and a starry night sky. You closed your eyes for a second, letting the tears flow down your cheeks while letting out a shaky laugh. You felt stupid for even feeling nervous around Jin. but now, a sense of relief grew inside you. You opened your eyes and instantly instantly saw his smiling face. You were about to lean in to give him a kiss. But he continued,

"And when I bought the ring, I made sure to have it exactly on your ring finger’s size.”

Your eyes widened, eyebrows raised. You audibly gasped when you realized what he just told you. The edges of your sight are just blurry with tears just continuing to go from your eyes. Jin gently wiped it with his thumb before asking something out of the blue,

“Do you know what I just cooked for you earlier?”

“Is it relevant to what are we talking about right now?” you asked tearfully.

He laughed before reaching for his phone, “Wait, I’ll show you.”

All you can do is nod while sobbing over this overwhelming joy and love you have been feeling inside of you. Jin then handed you his phone and you see it was the screenshot of a recipe. An image of the same dish he cooked earlier was shown. Then, you read the name of the meal.

“Marry me chicken?”

Still, in tears, you asked Jin confusedly. He laughed at your reaction, “Yes. It says that it was named like that because it was so good that you’ll partner ask for marriage if they taste that meal.”

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand while weeping like a little kid, “That was so lame. But effective.”

With that, Jin stood up and softly pulled you along with him. So, you two stood barefoot on your picnic blanket. He looked directly into your eyes while he reached for something in his pocket. He slowly gets on one knee. You felt butterflies in your gut as he took out a familiar rose gold ring. A Tiffany Harmony.

Your jaw dropped open and your hand covered your mouth, “Oh my god, it’s the one I told Hailey about.”

“Yes.” Jin nodded and his eyes turned glossy. “I-I’ve been keeping this for almost a year now.”

His voice breaks in the middle of that sentence and you were just basically waterworks at this point.

“Bub, YN, Francheskat’s mom,” you two tearfully chuckle at that last title. He resumed, “Will you marry me?”

You were sobbing and nodding uncontrollably as you answered a shaky “Yes, of course.”

He swiftly slid the ring on your finger and got up. You immediately pulled him for a kiss with the overflowing emotions in your body. Then, you pulled away and rested your forehead on his. He whispered,

“I love you so much, bub.”

“I love you too.” you sobbed and wrapped your arms around him.

He hugged you back, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your head rested on his chest and your own heart skipped, hearing how close his heartbeats were.

It happened in the first week of November. Unbeknownst to both you and Jin, you would exchange your vows three weeks later.

taglist rules

THE A-LISTERS: CONFIDENTIAL TAGLIST

@xiumo @joonsbvtch @firesighgirl @qualityjoonie @txtlyn @yoontaethings

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21

#jin x reader #jin fluff #bts jin #jin fic #jin au #seokjin x reader #seokjin fanfiction #seokjin fluff #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts series #bts au #bts fanfic #the a listers ksj #the a listers: universe lol

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chlerc · 11 months

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player ten ; charles leclerc

— summary; in which Charles find himself in at the San Siro stadium but his eyes are on you. Donning a number 10 jersey, which left Charles to wonder if you’re that player’s girlfriend. It’s still worth a shot, right?

pairing — charles leclerc x f. reader ( third person story )

word count — 925.

content — strangers to lovers, okay more like Charles one sided thing he has for you, or so he thought. You might be that footballer’s girlfriend but hey was he ever going to pass up on a girl like you?

NAVIGATION + author’s note: to thank the Monaco charity football match for captain charles ( future ballon d’or winner who fell head first! ) and that one picture he’s holding the barça jersey just got this idea, more like drabble, going. we deal with this until i finish the mason mount fic hehe 😓

The football pitch was millions of perfect grass strands as eager for the start of play as the fans who brought the stadium to light. Two armies of eleven walked onto the green to pitch war in the way civilised societies have come to.

The cheers warm the air as much as any sun ever could and rise around the San Siro stadium as bubbles in invisible champagne. Charles is right there by the VIP section of the stadium, in his customised AC Milan jersey he had just received from the team.

San Siro stadium was where he found himself with Joris, on a day without a packed schedule and stimulator drives. Football has always been his thing and he’s got a special knack for it, or he thinks so in that way.

His eyes are trained on following each Milan player as they played against Sampdoria yet the person on his left, an empty seat between them, had been pissing him off, which he embraced silently. Holy shit was she loud with all those jarring noises she had been making.

Charles cranes his neck a little, sneaking a glimpse at the lady who has been all but silent throughout the match. But to be fair, who would be quiet at a football match? Realising he had made the mistake of sneaking a glance, because hell was she so breathtakingly gorgeous. She’s so fucking beautiful it almost hurts to look at her.

Her face to his eyes was all the beauty a woman can possess, not for her features, yet for the light in her eyes and the gentle warmth of her soul. She has the rosiest cheeks and a pointy nose anyone could ever ask for. There was a warmth her brown hair brought to her features, a simple frame for that smile and eyes. The hue altered as the strands curled and moved, as free as autumn leaves playing in the dayshine with the evening wind picking up its pace.

One last glance, Charles had promised himself and swore to stick to that and so he did sneak another glance. Rookie mistake, she was donning the AC Milan jersey just like every other home supporter there, but shit she had a number 10 and the name Brahim printed on the back.

He recognises the number and name was actually a player on the pitch and not a customised jersey like his. VIP seats, a player’s jersey and cheering for him. Charles pieces his observations together, coming to a conclusion that she might actually be Brahim’s girlfriend.

Okay. It wasn’t like he was planning on hitting her up anyways, she was too noisy to be his type. But then again was he lying to himself, because hell who would actually pass up on a gorgeous woman who happened to love the same sport as him? On another note, she could just be a devoted fan, a girl can have her fantasies wearing the jerseys of the players they love.

It was the 63th minute where Brahim sent the ball to the back of the net, chants erupting throughout the stadium and a shout piercing through the left side of his ear. Fuck maybe she was his girlfriend afterall, there was no way was he making a move on her now.

He watches her every move as she looks for her phone in the beige bag sitting on her lap. With her phone in her hand, the screen lights up and he almost felt sanguine in this situation. Maybe he still had a chance after all, right? It definitely means something if he’s the person on her wallpaper, right?

Which is exactly why he slides over to the empty seat, settling down next to her. “Good game eh?” Charles finds himself striking a conversation with her, hoping she’d notice him. “Huh? Yeah yeah, really good game.” Her cheeks were the blush of roses, that peak of champagne pink. The colour infused cheeks dimpled with the blossoming smile

She wished she didn't blush so fast, that she had some ability to keep her emotions to herself. In an instant, her cheeks were rosy and Charles saw her feelings as if she wrote them in little notes and handed them out to him. “So…Brahim, your boyfriend? He’s really good with Milan, he’s adapted to the team well.”

“No no, not a boyfriend but yeah he’s really good.” He licked at his lips subconsciously, thanking every god for his fate of meeting the gorgeous and single lady right next to him. “Not a boyfriend eh? You’re in his jersey and all that.” She only lets out a giggle at his comment, Charles thought it was strange that she’s acting like she didn’t know him. “Loyal supporter is what I’d call it, been by him since Madrid.”

“My teammate’s a Madridista, you’d love him.” The ends of her lips lifted up into a smile so sweet, her eyes creasing into crescents. “I’d prefer the one who supports AS Monaco.” She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, mumbling meekly. “What’s that?” Charles questioned, not managing to catch what she had said but it wasn’t meant for him to hear anyways.

“Nothing important.” He nods curtly at her reply, sliding a piece of folded and crumbled paper he had tucked in his pockets earlier. She eyes him warily, taking the piece of paper in her grasp.

“I might have a knack for football but I’m better as a driver and we can take a picture to replace that lockscreen. Mia cara, call me yeah?”

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marsdreamworld · 8 months

Text

Electric Love - CL16 x reader

mars’ notes: First off, wtaf??? i’m so so so happy that you guys liked my lando blurb that much, i was half distracted and incredibly anxious when i wrote it, so the fact that so many people like it is absolutely insane to me jnfruncr - anyways, here’s a cute little (not so little) Charles fic i had bouncing around in my head :) thank you @love-belle for listening to me ramble!! please please lmk what you think, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated <333

summary: 4 times Charles almost told you he loved you, and the one time he did.

warnings: none!! super fluffy (again)

———————————————————-

The first time Charles almost let those three precious words slip from his lips was during an unassuming pasta date the two of you had planned. You had gone to the grocery store earlier in the day, and had remembered the old, silver unused pasta maker that was stashed in the back of yours and Charles’ kitchen cabinet, and decided that it seemed like a good day to finally teach your boyfriend how to properly cook the Italian staple. You’d come home in a flurry of excitement, bags dangling from your arms and a bright smile on your face, stating that you were going to teach him how to cook so well that he’d rival Yuki Tsunoda, teasing that maybe that way he’d be able to get Pierre over to his house for a dinner date as well. He’d smiled, grabbed the bags from your hands and set them down on the kitchen counter, before winding his arms around you and kissing you softly, telling you that he missed you and couldn’t wait.

You were too full of excitement to wait any longer, turning on the old radio in the corner of the kitchen, the sound of an old 1950s love song filling the space whilst Charles got two glasses and a bottle of red wine from the rack in the living room. Once your glasses were full and your hands had been washed, you’d dragged him over to the kitchen counter and thrust a “kiss the cook” apron into his hands, instructing him to put it on so he wouldn’t get flour all over himself. He’d asked whether you had a matching one, to which you replied that you’d done this far too many times to spill any flour and that your outfit would be ruined with it. He’d let his eye roam your figure, taking in the sweatshirt you’d stolen from him yesterday, claiming it smelt like him, along with the cute giraffe print pyjama bottoms you adored so much; your hair clipped back messily, sleeves pulled up to your elbows, and Charles swore he’d never seen anything as beautiful.

He was elbow deep in dough before he knew it, hands sticky with egg yolk and flour, the substance sticking to his skin despite how hard he was trying to pull it off. You were standing next to him, your own ball of dough perfectly rolled and kneaded, hands free of any lingering blobs of dough. A piece of hair had fallen into your face, and you’d used your shoulder to attempt to push it back behind your ear again, huffing when it returned to block your vision. Something had just felt so right - he could imagine doing this after a hectic race weekend, coming home to you making a fresh batch of pasta to go with his favourite white sauce, love songs in the background and wine glass in hand. He thought of you standing at this very kitchen counter, flour smudged on your face as you taught a mini version of you how to knead dough, and how to use the pasta machine that he knew was going to come very close to sucking in his fingers.

“Charlie? You ok, my love? Pasta isn’t that hard to make, baby, you just need more flour.”

You’d looked over to catch him staring at you, cheeks red and eyes glazed, and it took everything in him to not spit out how much he loved you. He wanted to scream it from the rooftops, post it on every social media platform, say it over and over until your heart was beating as fast as his was. He watched as you leaned over, sprinkling more flour onto his hands, and all he could do was smile.

————————-

The second time Charles almost confessed the inner workings of his heart was during a race weekend - Spa, to be exact. Spa was a race that was heavy with memories, good and bad. Antoine’s ghost still lingered at every corner, and the cheers of the 2019 crowd still rang in his ears during his track walk. It was a weekend that stirred up a plethora of emotions, contrasting and deep, and it weighed on him. He’d made it a point to leave flowers for his friend every year, joining Pierre alongside the track when they went to pay their respects. This would be the first time you would be by his side, at your insistence. He’d told you countless times that it was he was perfectly fine with just Pierre for company, that you didn’t have to drag yourself out there with him and get soaked, but you wouldn’t back down.

“I don’t care whether it’s storming or if people are passing out from the heat, Charles Leclerc, I’m coming with you, whether you like it or not. You’ve gone through enough on your own, and I’m not letting you do it again, not while I’m here.”

He’d stood in silence, gaping at you until your expression faltered and your hands fell from their resting place on your hips. You were halfway through stammering an apology, explaining that you just didn’t want him to be going through that alone, that you were always there for him when he surged forward and kissed you, hands cradling your face.

He was so overwhelmed in that moment, thoughts of Antoine floating through his head, a tiny voice in the back of his head telling him that it could be his turn this weekend, that he’d never get to tell you how he feels. He pulled back, thumbs brushing over your delicate cheeks, lips forming the words, when suddenly,

“Charles! You have a press conference in 5! Get a move on!”

Fred’s voice broke through the bubble, and you both jumped, startled by the shout. A weight settled in his chest, Charles desperately looking back at you, hoping that what he didn’t have a chance to say was evident in his eyes. You smiled back at him as if to say “me too”, and that was the end of that.

————————-

The third time was during family dinner. His mother had invited the two of you, along with Arthur, Lorenzo and their respective partners, over to her cosy house in Monaco for an evening meal. You had spent the last thirty minutes stressing over whether or not you looked good enough to meet “the woman who gave birth to the prince of Monaco” and thirty minutes before that stressing over which wine to take, if any. Once a good enough Chardonnay had been chosen (a 20 year old bottle you had been gifted by your boss and had deemed too fancy to just open over a plate of pasta at home), and your hair curled and make up painted to perfection, you turned to look at Charles, smiling, shooting him a “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” and he couldn’t help but laugh.

The drive to his mother’s house was fairly uneventful, with him humming along to a French song playing on the radio, one hand on the wheel and the other situated on your thigh, slipping in between the slit of cherry red, silk dress you had chosen for the occasion. The windows were down, the wind whipping through your hair, and you were smiling and singing along with him, a pretty picture of contentment.

You had calmed down by the time the two of you had reached the front door, confident enough to greet his mother with a hug and a kiss to the cheek, laughing when she said that you looked “absolutely amazing, chèrie”. You had bantered with his brothers, giving as good as you got, helped set the table and pick the music, and had even taken over Arthur’s babysitting duties, spending time playing dolls with his little nieces. Looking at how well you fit in with his family made Charles’ heart beat out of his chest. He felt a hand on his arm, and turned to see his Maman standing next to him, a light smile on her lips.

“She’s the one, my boy.” she said, and all Charles could do was nod in agreement, quietly saying the words,

“I think I love her, maman.”

Pascale simply smiled, and turned to walk back to the kitchen.

————————

He actually got through the first word and a half the fourth time. It seemed like whenever Charles actually got the opportunity to tell you he loved you, something or the other interrupted him, and this time was no exception. He never thought he would end up here, in a dingy club bathroom, wine stain on his brand new white shirt, and you standing by the sink laughing at him.

He had just won the Australian GP, Carlos coming in a close second, and Daniel stealing the third step of the podium. The season had started well for the team, and in natural Ferrari fashion, they had all gotten dressed up and found their way to the nearest club. Drinks flowed, partners were found and dragged to the dance floor, sweaty bodies pressed so close that it was hard to figure out who was who. He had been walking back from the bar, his and your drinks in hand, making his way back to his fellow drivers and you in a pretty black dress you’d picked out earlier in the day, when someone had bumped into him, wine spilling and staining his shirt. You’d turned at the noise that escaped his throat, an embarrassingly high-pitched squeal, and had kept a straight face for all of three seconds before you were laughing.

You’d taken the now empty glasses from his hands, set them down on the table and looped your arm through his, pulling him in the direction of the bathrooms.

“You know, now might not be the best time for a quickie, mon ètoile, my shirt is soaked.”

You had simply looked back at him, and told him that that was “even more reason to get that shirt off him”, your tone insinuating that you wouldn’t be doing anything of the sort. Once in the bathroom, the door locked and lights on, you’d beelined for the tissues, soaking them in a little water and soap before turning back to him with a determined look in your eyes. Instructing him to hold still, you’d taken to trying to scrub the stain out, armed with tissue that was on the verge of disintegrating. He knew the stain wasn’t going to budge, a voice that sounded like his mother’s telling him that he’d need hydrogen peroxide or vinegar at the very least, but he let you grip his shirt regardless, perching himself on the lip of the sink and pulling you closer to stand in between his legs. His eyes roved over your face, taking in the slight crease in between your eyebrows, and your teeth biting at your lower lip. There was something so endearing about the way you looked trying to rub something as stubborn as a wine stain out of his clothes that made him want to never let you go.

Tell her now, you idiot, who cares if you’re in a club bathroom, it’ll make for an interesting story to tell your kids later, he thought to himself.

“Ma chèrie?”, he waited for you to look up from his shirt before continuing, “I lo-“

“Charles! Did you manage to get that wine out yet? We’re waiting to order the next round of shots, mate, hurry up!”

The banging on the door, combined with his teammate’s voice, had interrupted him, the moment well and truly over. He grumbled to himself, something about never having a moment of peace, before looking up at you, nodding his head towards the direction of the door.

There was always next time.

————————-

It had been a quiet moment, just you and him somewhere on the coast of Monaco, yacht rocking with the waves, peaceful. The day had started the way it usually did, the sun streaming into his eyes as you curled into his side, screwing your eyes shut in a vain effort to try and sleep a little longer. He’d kissed you, slow and soft, before whispering a hushed good morning, smiling when he got a sleepy mumble in response. He’d pushed himself up to lean against the headboard, with you whining as he jostled you, only quieting down when he pulled you back into the warmth of his arms. The two of you had stayed there for another half an hour, drifting in and out of consciousness before your stomach rumbled, effectively declaring that it was time to get out of bed and start working on breakfast. Charles knew you didn’t usually like to eat in the mornings, claiming that it made you feel slightly nauseous, but that you were an absolute sucker for a good cup of coffee and waffles, so he set out to make exactly that whilst you were in the shower.

It was not going well, to say the least. He’d even pulled up a waffle recipe on his phone, specifying to Google that he needed one that was beginner friendly. It had started out well, with him grabbing all the ingredients listed, even going so far as to grab the measuring cups you used when you baked the vanilla cookies he loved so much; and then he actually had to start putting everything together. He’d ended up cracking the first egg with far too much force, causing it to spill all over his hand, with slivers of the shell ending up in the bowl below. Once he had fished out the infuriatingly small pieces out of the egg mixture and added the milk, he got to work measuring out the flour, only to misjudge how heavy the bag was, and spilling it all over the counter and himself. He was stood stock still, face stuck in disbelief when you had walked in, freezing as you took in the scene unfolding in your kitchen.

“Oh, my love” was all you’d managed to get out, before you were making your way over to him, brushing your thumb across his cheek and saying “You’ve got a little something there.”

Once the breakfast disaster was cleaned, and you had taken over to make edible waffles, the two of you had migrated to the living room, curling up on the couch under your favourite fluffy blanket, armed with snacks to start a movie marathon. Sundays during summer break were reserved for snacking on salted caramel ice cream and brain-rotting romcoms, and it was tradition for you and Charles to bicker over which movie was put on first. Charles knew he would give in after the first minute of arguing, when you pulled out the big guns and flashed a sweet smile at him, and today was no different. He was glad it was no different.

The day had passed in a haze of kisses, sweet fruit and good wine. The weather was beautiful, wonderfully warm with a light breeze, and Charles had stated that it was the perfect night for a picnic under the stars on his yacht, ushering you in the direction of your room, telling you to get dressed. He grabbed a few more bottles of the wine you had been loving in the last couple of days, cutting up fruits and cubes of cheese for your impromptu picnic, before packing it all up into a small basket you could take with you. You’d come out of the bedroom in a white summer dress, and Charles felt his heart stop at the sight of you. You looked ethereal, like his own personal angel, and he told you as much, before gently taking hold of your hand and leading you to his car, picnic basket in hand.

You had been out on the water for an hour or so when you had leaned into Charles, your head resting on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his. He’d looked down at you and smiled, all dimples and warmth, before leaning down and kissing you softly, his lips just brushing over yours. You’d settled in and were sharing your second bottle of wine, looking up at the stars and talking about everything and nothing, the topic of your conversation ranging from who could find the most constellations to new recipes you wanted to try out the next time you had the chance. Charles was watching you ramble about a new cake recipe that you’d seen (or was it pie? He was hardly paying attention, too caught up in the way your eyes lit up and the way your cheeks flushed) when he just blurted it out.

“I love you.”

You had stopped midway through your sentence, words suddenly sticking to the inside your throat as you gazed up at him. He was looking at you with glazed eyes, the stars reflected in them, and panicking because what if you didn’t say it back? What if he had misread the situation so badly and had ended up ruining a perfectly good day because he couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself like-

“I love you too.”

And just like that, the breath was knocked out of his chest. You loved him. Him, Charles Leclerc, you loved him. He wanted to hear those words every single day, every morning when he woke up, every night before he went to sleep, every day for the rest of his life.

“Say it again”, he begged, needing to make sure you were really saying that you loved him, and this wasn’t just some sick, twisted dream, a figment of his imagination. You repeated it in hushed whisper, again and again, watching as the dimpled smile you had come to adore grew on his face, before pushing yourself up and kissing him again.

Yes, today had been the perfect day.

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snek-panini · 17 days

Text

Very belated Binderary books, uh...I've lost track actually. I think they are #6 and #7. And it's another two-volume split! This is (Slow) Burn, Baby, Burn by orchidlocked, an extremely long Good Omens fic set in the 1970s. It's about our favorite angel/demon pair navigating the disco scene, and it's not an AU, which is sort of usual in a fic this long and with such a specific premise. There are a fair few real people featured here, some as major characters, and a lot of music history and an excellent playlist alongside all the fun and angsty relationship stuff that so many of us are here for. I learned a lot about disco reading this fic and it was fascinating and also way more queer than I ever realized.

For the cover up there we have a white Allure book cloth on the spine, and white HTV over homemade book cloth for the main cover. The cloth pieces both come from the same sheet but I oriented the stripes this way so they'd be coordinated-but-not-matched and I really love the effect. They're also cotton and really nice to hold. It's funny, I was thinking of binding this fic when I found the fabric while digging through the Joann's remnant bin, and as soon as I saw it this fic not only came to mind but moved up to the top of the to-bind list. It was fate, clearly.

More photos under the cut!

Both spines and a top view. That's orange HTV for the titles. This it the first time I've worked with matte HTV (I usually use metallic or foil) and I was surprised at how much thinner it is, and how easy it was to stick. And I like the color inverse here in counterpoint to the front cover. The top view shows off the handmade endbands and bookmark, and also the rounding job. I'm still working on rounded spines, and the turn-in over the spine didn't come out as smooth as I'd have liked, but I think it's a good result. The ribbon bookmark was supposed to be blue to match the endbands, but every blue ribbon I could find clashed horribly with the cover so it's this nice leafy sage green. Which actually works really well with...

The endpapers! I got these as Joann's too. All four are cut from the same print, but I shifted and rotated them when I trimmed them so the patterns wouldn't all be in the same place. I had desperately wanted this other paper I found on Etsy with little vinyl records all over it, but the pieces weren't the right shape and I'd have had to ship them from overseas ($$), but I like the mood these ones set. And they're thick and nicely textured and look awesome with the cover, so really I think things worked out very well.

Couple of pics of the interior. I kept it fairly simple but I feel like it fits the story.

The scene break line is orange, to match the covers. I usually use gray but wanted something more fun. I recently bought some off-white paper that I used for most of my binderary projects this year because I've heard it's easier on the eyes, and it is, but I used the older bright white for this so the color contrast would be sharper. No complaints; I think it looks amazing. The second image above is the appendix I put together for the volume. Being so centered in the music industry, this fic has a really long playlist that the author put together with their preferred recordings. It's linked in the story and I did include the link text in the book, but I had my mind on preservation and the challenges of digital archiving while I was making this one, so I also took all the title/artist/album info and just listed it here. It was too much to do all by hand, so I learned how to export a Spotify playlist into an Excel doc, then moved that into the Word doc to print. A lot of steps, but not nearly as hard as I'd thought, and way less tedious.

I have to say this book is aesthetically really different than all my previous ones. I ran into so many design hurdles but I honestly couldn't be more pleased with the end result. I'll have to push my comfort zone like this more often, I guess.

#bookbinding #fanbinding #snek makes books #good omens #it's disco so it needed to be appropriately funky #and i think i nailed it actually #look at them they're awesome

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nctsplug02 · 2 years

Note

can i please request mr and mrs jeong having a fight as mrs jeong was preoccupied and is BUSY with works leaving mr jeong wanting just a piece of time and attention from his wife—it starts with them having a big full on yelling fight (and maybe ending it with soft or angry sex AND ofc aftercare)

[6:39pm]

genre: fluff, smut and angst.

warnings: arguing, drinking, unprotected sex, clit-play, nipple play, kissing, vanilla sex and aftercare.

“i— yes, i understand.” you sigh, kicking open the door and balancing the stacks of papers on your chest. “okay— right now, i will have to call you back. and, yes. i will look over your case, mr fiddle.” you hang up with a groan before falling onto the ground.

“h—honey?” jaehyun hurries towards you seeing you attempting to stack up the folders. “are you okay?” he gets on his knees and helps you up. “i’m fine—?” before you can even finish your sentence, your phone rings.

jaehyun hands you your phone and you thank him. “hello?” you answer, sticking your phone between your shoulder and ear. “y—yes, mrs ivy. i understand.. yes, the divorce papers are being printed at this very moment.”

jaehyun stands up with the stacks of folders. “kitchen, please,” you whisper and he leads the way. “no, my.. my office is closed and it will not be opened until— mrs ivy?” you sigh and stare down at your phone to see it blank.

“you hungry, baby?” jaehyun wraps his arms around your waist and you turn. “very,” you bring your arms around his neck. “haven’t eaten all day because of all these non-stop calls—?” with a groan, you drop your head onto jaehyuns chest.

“don’t answer it, baby.” you shake your head and pry yourself away from him. “i have to, unless you want me jobless.” you swipe your phone off the counter before answering.

“hello, this is jeong y/n?” you walk away from jaehyun. “yes, i am fully aware of that. no, court is at 9AM tomorrow morning. yes.. okay, will do. i’ll have to run back to my office and get your file— sure thing, mr mendler.” you toss your phone on the counter.

jaehyun leans against the counter. “so, what would you like for dinner—?” you shake your head with a groan. “no, it’s fine, hon. i’ll just pick up some chicken before coming back—?” he turns and tilts his head to you. “before coming back? where are you going?”

“didn’t you hear while—?” you sigh and ruffle your hair. “i have to run back to my office so i can pick up a clients file. he has court tomorrow and i need his file.” jaehyun frowns a bit. “do you have to?” you cup his face. “yes, i have to. itll be quick, i promise.” you pat around you.

“have you seen my keys?” you ask him and he cups your face this time. “baby, you’ve been working and working and.. working. let’s have some wine and let’s relax, yeah?” you remove his hands and you exhale.

“honey, i do not have time for relaxing. i am working several cases right now and relaxing is not on my list at the moment. so, if i can make it to the office quicker and get the file, it’ll be quicker for me to get home!”

jaehyuns confused by your sudden eruption. “honey..” he goes to cup your face but you back up. “with having to take care of two fucking kids and, and all these damn cases is just so much fucking stress.” you slam your hand down on the counter.

“wait, two kids?” jaehyun questions. “yes! you and hannie!” he wants to smile at your words but it was a serious topic. “all this stress piling up, day by day by day! urgh, i need a fucking break!”

your eyes lower down to jaehyuns fingers, patiently tapping on the counter. “me going to get my clients files would be a great opportunity for me to get some fresh air. is that okay or should i just take a chill-pill and relax?” jaehyun nods.

“you’re right, i’m sorry. you’ve been under a lot of stress and a lot of pressure. and, i’m sorry for adding more stress onto your plate.” his voice was so gentle, even after your bitchy fit.

“thank you,” you inhale slowly before exhaling. “i’ll be back in twenty. i love you.” you turn and exit the kitchen. “i love you!” jaehyun shouts before hearing your keys jingle and the door slam.

jaehyun wakes up to his phone going off. “hello?” he croaky voice answers. “hi, is this hubby dummy?” he chuckles at the nickname and sighs. “yes, this is him. who is this?” jaehyun rubs his eyes and looks at the clock on your nightstand.

jaehyuns eyes widen at the time; 3:33AM. “i’m darren paul, a bartender from the neo nights bar— i’m calling about your wife. she’s drunk and she asked me to call you.” he sighs and climbs out of bed. “alright, you tell my girl that i’ll be there, okay?” he turns on the lamp on his nightstand. “yes, sir.” the line goes dead.

several minutes later and you’re stumbling out of the car while jaehyun unclips his daughter out of her carseat. “i’m fine, baby.” you mumble, stumbling into the house. “no, you clearly aren’t.” he kicks off his shoes and brings hannie upstairs.

“jae,” you call out. “jae?” you raise your voice. “jae?!” you were starting to get impatient with his no response. “what, baby? i’m right here, i was putting hannie down.” jaehyuns rushing down the stairs and into the kitchen.

jaehyun walks into a quiet kitchen. you were staring at him, blankly. “what a sexy man i married.” you whisper and sit up. “those.. sexy arms.. that sexy face.. mmm, mama likes.” you bite your lip and walk towards him.

“baby, you’re drunk and tired. let’s go to bed, yeah?” you shake your head at his suggestion. “how about.. we have a little time to ourselves.. on the counter?” he seemed displeased at your suggestion and the sultry tone.

you wrap your hands around his nape and you jump without warning causing you and jaehyun to fall. “aw, shit.” you mewl, covering your face in embarrassment. “my god, baby. are you okay?” you shake your head and sigh. “i’m.. alright—?” you go to bring your hands up to his nape again, only to hear him groan in pain.

“ssshhhhit,” jaehyun buries his face in your neck and cries out in pain. “what— what happened? did i do something?” you feel him lifting his weight off you before helping you up.

“you stabbed me in the eye with your fingers.” he holds his eyes. “oh, my! i’m sorry, does it hurt—?” he sighs and rubs his eye. “i’m fine, but are you okay? you took a hard fall?” he rubs your back. “i’m fine but, your eye?” he shakes his head.

jaehyun grabs your wrists and kisses your hands. “i’m fine, baby. but, what were you even trying to do?” you chew the inside of your cheek, too embarrassed to admit what you even attempted two minutes ago.

“i was.. trying to be sexy.” you look down. “sexy?” your head quickly jerks up at his tone. “wha—? yes, i was trying to be sexy! but, clearly it didn’t work so, now i’m embarrassed.” you could see a small grin slowly grow on jaehyuns lips. “aww, baby. don’t be.” he cups your face.

you look up into his eyes. “you were being sexy. very, sexy.” he interlaces his fingers around your nape. “or at least, i found you sexy.” you look down at his lips as he leans forward. “meanie.” you mumble before he presses his lips onto yours.

jaehyun lifts you off the counter and lifts up your dress, slipping it over your ass. “it is way to early for this.” jaehyun says, pulling away with his forehead attached to yours.

jaehyun pulls off the string clothing just above your thighs before he tilts you back with your legs up and on his shoulder. your hand grips on the counter as he undoes his sweats and pushes down his sweats and briefs.

you give a look at jaehyun who jerks himself while staring you down with a smirk. you and jaehyun both let out an extended groan when he slips in.

he brings his hand up and slams it down, delivering a rough smack to your ass cheek. you yelp and jerk at the burning feeling spreading all over your ass.

jaehyun thrusts making you shake with his thrusts. he reaches forward and pulls on your top, making your breasts spill out. “ooohh, fuck.” he hisses with a nose scrunch as he grabs your bouncing tits and gives them a hard squeeze.

“s—s—top..” you whine, failing to hold his wrist and holding your weight. “aww, does my baby not like to be teased?” all of a sudden, you’re yelping as he pinches and pulls on your nipple.

jaehyun pounds his hips, letting his hips smack against your thighs. “you’ve been so stressed, haven’t you?” he coos, slipping in his thumb onto your tongue. you nod while sucking on his thumb pad and humming around it.

the wetness of your wet folds squelching around his dick as he repeatedly thrusts into you. his groans and your moans bouncing off the thick walls of the kitchen.

“what a good pussy.” jaehyun tilts his head and uses his thumb to rub your clit. “j—jae!” you whine, biting down on your bottom lip and tossing your head back.

jaehyun reaches forward and tilts your chin up. “can you be a good girl and cum for me?” you nod and he rubs your bottom lip with a tut. “good,” he removes his hand from your face and continuously pistols his hips into yours.

jaehyun knew how to make you feel good. you and him have been married for almost a decade. jaehyun was your first everything.

“j—?!” you grasp onto his hand and he nods, purring to you. you moan and fall on your back as your orgasm hits you hard.

but jaehyun doesn’t stop. instead, he continues thrusting and continues to chase his own orgasm. “oh, baby,” he pants, grabbing your thighs more. “you feel.. so.. so good.” he grunts, leaning his sweaty forehead against your legs.

“baby.. baby..” he pants and cries out before your thighs clamp as his hot cum shoots into you. jaehyuns hips stutter as he slams them several times before stopping.

“shower?” jaehyun suggests and you nod.

jaehyun lifts you off the counter and carries you upstairs to the bathroom. “do you want to take a bubble bath or do you want to take a shower?” he asks, holding onto the faucet. “a shower,” jaehyun opens the shower door and then twists the knob until water squirts out of the shower head.

jaehyun lifts you off the counter and brings you into the shower. “can you hold me?” he wraps his arms tightly around your waist and tucks his chin on your shoulder. “i’m so.. exhausted.” you sigh, leaning your head back into his cheek.

“i’m know, baby. i know.” he reaches over and pumps some of your body wash into his palm before rubbing it all over your body and getting it bubbly.

he rubs your neck and it causes you to moan out. your neck and shoulders were so sore from carrying so many files. jaehyun clears his throat and pauses his rubbing before moving to your shoulders.

you moan, again. jaehyun slightly pulls closer to you and you glance back. “please take care of it?” you sigh, voice slightly whiney. “i know, i’m sorry.” jaehyuns boner poking you right on the ass.

after the shower, jaehyun helps you into the room and jnto some fresh clothes; his shirt and his shorts. he applies on some peach mango lotion before putting you to bed.

“i’m sorry for telling you to relax, earlier. i know you’ve been under a lot of stress but, i just wanted to spend time with my wife, y’know? i’ve been missing you. hannie does too.” you cuddle more into his warmth and chest. “thank you. and, i’m sorry for yelling. i shouldn’t have. it was immature of me to. i love you.”

jaehyun was always the first to apologize and you appreciated that. you were too hard to stay away from and jaehyun couldn’t stand a chance being away from you.

“ah, honey. i love you more.” he litters your forehead with a kiss and sighs.

no, you loved each other equally.

#ash talks #nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #kpop imagines #nctsplug02 #kpop fluff #anon #kpop smut #nct 127 #jung jaehyun imagines #nct jaehyun #jeong jaehyun fluff #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #jaehyun smut #jen the babysitter

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yowyowyaoi · 10 months

Note

As a fellow citizen adopted by Ireland I have a habit of putting milk in my tea

What do our tea loving Akatsuki members think about it? Is is a crime?

Even if they DO think it’s a crime, they’re literal criminals who have committed far worse offenses. Don’t let them judge you!

That being said, I kinda … got carried away … 🫣

*Drinking Tea with the Akatsuki*

Deidara

Dei is not much of a tea drinker. He’s not much of an anything drinker, except for soda, which he downs more of than is healthy. However, sometimes he can be persuaded to have a cup with Konan or ((very rarely)) Itachi. Deidara has always been a bit of an insomniac, and has great difficulty falling asleep and staying asleep. Itachi introduced him to the calming benefits of chamomile tea , and for a while this really helped to put Dei out. But. After awhile he started to get “bored” with the taste and started adding things to make it “explosive”. Like a ridiculous amount of sugar. And flavored creamers, the type typically used in coffee. Which of course cancelled out the sleepy-time effect and had Deidara wide awake all night, as usual.

Konan

Konan really only likes drinking tea when she can have some type of dessert with it. She purposefully picks out a type of Chinese tea called Kuding tea, as it’s known for being especially bitter. She won’t add anything to it, no creams or sugars or anything, and instead balances it with a piece of apple pie, or a cream cheese tart; something where the sweetness counteracts with the bitter. Drinks it most frequently with Nagato or Itachi. Also is like Hidan in that she likes to add a bit of theatrics to teatime; she likes to put flowers in her hair, and wear a cute printed dress with matching shoes. Also loves to stick out her pinky and use an accent, although her accents are infinitely better than Hidan’s.

Hidan

Won’t drink tea unless it’s with the others. Always adds at least half a bottle of honey to his cup, which makes it look all sludgy and goopy. Makes it a point to hold his teacup with his pinky sticking out, because he heard that “that’s how the rich, fancy fucks do it!” Also attempts to speak with an accent, although WHAT accent he thinks he’s doing is a mystery to the others. Likes plain black tea the most because it gives him a “blank canvas” to add things to it to change the flavor.

Obito

When he was growing up, drinking tea was something that he did with his grandmother every single day. He’d come home from school, she’d brew them each a cup of tea, and he’d sit and tell her about his day at the academy. It was a cozy, comforting ritual, and one that Obito sometimes likes to partake in, in adulthood. When he was a boy the strong taste of tea was almost too much for him, so his grandmother would always add milk to his (oftentimes the cup would be more milk than tea). Obito still does this, adding milk or sometimes cream to his cup. Most of the time he’ll drink tea alone, but sometimes he’ll sit with Itachi (who has his own memories of teatime with his mother) and the two will sit and quietly reminisce with each other. All flavors of tea rank pretty much the same to him, but he is very partial to those that are berry-flavored, with black cherry being his favorite.

Kisame

Kisame doesn’t exactly like tea. He prefers to stay hydrated almost solely through water. But being partnered with Itachi changed a bit of that mindset for him. He still doesn’t like the taste of tea, but the act of drinking tea itself has become something that’s familiar and comforting to him. His young partner loves going to tea and dessert cafes in their downtime, and THIS, Kisame loves. Something about the two of them being in plainclothes, not having to carry the identities of being a swordsman of the mist or an Uchiha or a member of the Akatsuki, just two friends doing something normal and mundane … it’s very freeing to Kisame. Kisame is like Deidara in that he adds a lot of sugar to his cups (but only when Itachi isn’t looking, as he’s kind of a purist about those types of things). Is also like Obito as he prefers berry flavored teas, with blackberry being his preference.

Nagato

This man is on a very strict diet, as his fragile and emaciated body can only digest so many things. The caffeine content of a lot of commercial teas is too high for him, but one thing he can handle is peppermint tea. The smell reminds him of the winter holidays, which has always been his favorite time of the year. Konan makes him his tea and, like Obito takes his, adds plenty of milk to it for her friend. It has to cool down considerably (he can’t handle anything too hot or too cold) and then he usually drinks it from a large mug with a straw. Also really loves when any of the others (aside from Konan) seek him out to have tea and talk with him.

Zetsu

Does the tea have blood in it? If not, then he ain’t interested.

Kakuzu

Is very interested in drinking tea … if it doesn’t cost him anything. Which most of the time it won’t; the others all have what seems like thousands of tea bags and assorted leaves around, and there isn’t anyone that’s not willing to share. Kakuzu suffers from a lot of body aches, and will therefore always gravitate towards green tea, which helps relieve inflammation and pain. Kakuzu isn’t a man who allows himself a lot of luxuries in life, but his favorite treat for himself is to take a long, hot bubble bath with a cup of tea and a plate of cookies. Will constantly get on the others if they don’t finish their cups, and really doesn’t like it when they excessively use things like sugar or creamers.

Sasori

The puppet doesn’t drink tea. Even when he was a human, he didn’t see the point of tea. He is (was) strictly a coffee man. When asked, he said he remembers tea tasting like “water where something went horribly wrong”.

Itachi

Ah, this man. The Akatsuki’s champion of tea drinkers. This guy could tell you what tea you have blindfolded, or from a single whiff all the way in another room. He’s the one everyone else will go to, to ask what type of tea is best for what. Can’t sleep? Itachi knows what to give to you. have anxiety? Itachi’s already making you a cup of something that’ll calm you down. His hobby is visiting tea cafes and just recently he’s gotten into collecting ornate tea cups. He’s the type who likes to make tea from leaves, not a bag, and use an old fashioned kettle. It takes a while but his brew always smells and tastes better than anything you could buy in a shop. Having tea with other members is how he forms bonds with them, and he’s a lot more talkative when he has a tea cup between his hands. He normally doesn’t add anything extra to his tea, preferring to savor the natural flavors; although if he’s having a “down” day he’ll use a cube or two of sugar as a pick me up. Obito convinced him to use a little bit of milk once, but Itachi really didn’t care for the taste and never did it again after that one time.

#ask #the akatsuki #drinking tea #deidara #konan #hidan #obito uchiha #itachi uchiha #nagato uzumaki #zetsu #sasori #kakuzu #kisame hoshigaki #headcanons

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skylarmoon71 · 2 years

Text

Bumblebee (Transformers) - Oneshot

You’ve always had this bad habit of sticking your nose where it didn’t belong. Maybe it was the reporter in you. You needed to get to the bottom of every mystery. Most times that wasn’t so bad. The first was the school weirdo Sam Witwicky.

Overnight it seemed like he became somewhat desired, at least to Mikeala. He’d somehow managed to snag the hottest girl in school. A part of you thought he paid her, but sometimes you would catch the look she sent him. It was different, almost warm. Then there was his cousin who popped up like a ghost and no one asked questions. You even did a background check, but you couldn't find anything on social media.

It was like he didn’t exist.

Bee Witwicky.

What kind of name is Bee, did his parents really want him to get bullied on a daily basis?

Your adventure begins.

“Witwicky! I’m really glad I caught you.”

It wasn’t a coincidence. You memorized his schedule. A good reporter always covers their bases.

Bee stumbled slightly at the sound of your call. He’d been attending the school for roughly three weeks.

“O-Oh, hello again."

You could tell that you made him a bit nervous, which just made you that more intrigued. You knew there was a good story here. Your instincts had never been wrong. You’ve printed a number of articles for the school paper, most of which received a bit of recognition. This was your calling. That’s why you couldn’t let this one go to waste.

“Care to answer a few questions? You're still a mystery to the school. I’d love to do a piece on you. Help the students to get to know you better. Like I did with Sean Jeffery.”

“Oh yes, I read about him. He helped the team qualify for the state championship on July 22nd, Dallas Texas.”

“Exactly! I love showing off talented students, you could be one of them.”

It was a little weird the way he recited it like he was a computer.

“That’s nice, but there really isn't anything interesting about me. I’m just a plain old human.” You raise a brow.

“I-I just do regular human things you know!” He was laughing as he backed away.

“A-Anyway I really should get going.”

“Wait I haven’t even-”

“Bee!”

Sam’s voice called from down the hall. When you saw him you frowned. He wore a similar look as he approached.

“Still trying to put my cousin on display so people could mess with him.”

“That’s not what I do, Witwicky. I’m just trying to write a story. Are you worried he might get more popular than you?” You taunt. You can see he’s pretty agitated.

“Hey Sam!” Mikeala’s happy voice sings from down the hallway. When she walks up she looks curious.

“Oh hey, you’re (Y/N). Bee never stops-”

“Telling them about how much you love stories!!” Bee interrupts.

He’s acting weird again.

“I’ll see you later Bee.”

You pull your books closer, walking off to your next class. If only you could get ten minutes without Sam in the way, maybe you could score a great story. As your body fades into the crowd of students, Sam turns to Bee.

“You have to be careful, if people start asking too many questions it’s going to be bad for you.” Sam looks worried.

“She won’t find out anything, trust me. We took precautions. Besides, wouldn’t an article help to prove that I’m normal. “

“He’s right Sam. (Y/N)’s not going to stop. It’s been weeks. I think she likes the chase.” Sam groans.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

After school, you’d packed your stuff and set off for your new mission.

It’s become apparent that Sam was going to continue being a thorn in your side, only proving the fact that something was amiss. Like any regular person, you thought stalking them would be the way to go, normal right?

Except this time, you cursed your curious nature, because in this scenario, it would indeed be the thing to kill the cat.

“AAAAH SHIT!!!”

You were pedaling as fast as your feet could take you, but the yellow camaro was still following you down the street. A part of you was praying that it had all been a crazy nightmare. You’d trace Bee back to some weird abandoned building. You found a comfortable spot too. Even Sam and Mickeala were there. At first you assumed they were just delinquents messing with some stuff, but one second they were talking as usual, then the next a blue and red peterbilt pulled up.

Right before your eyes the truck changed, and shortly after, so did Bee. One minute he was human, then the next his skin was replaced by machinery that looked like it was from another universe. He stood upright, blue glowing eyes and all.

Like most teens in such a situation, you screamed. Alerting all of them of your location. You’d almost dropped your phone. But the second you willed your body to move, you jumped on your bike and sped out of there. It’s only when you got back on a main road you saw a car following you. It didn’t take a genius, its patterns were the exact same as Bee’s.

You’d turned down an alleyway to gain some ground and maybe lose them behind the many buildings. For a while you thought it worked, but a large hand came down right in front of you and you were pulled right off the bike. Now you were in a much more secluded place. It placed you on your feet, and as you opened your mouth to scream, Sam rushed over grabbing you and placing a hand on your mouth. You bit him, and he yelled out as you tried to take off in a run.

“I’d advise against running again, human.”

The stern voice of the blue and red robot makes your blood run cold. You fell back, staring up at both aliens.

“Y-You’re gonna kill me. You’re gonna scramble my brains and dump me in some ditch!!”

“Quiet down.”

It sounded a bit angry now, and your mouth slid shut as you trembled.

“We're..not…gonna hurt you…sport..” The radio of the camaro’s car slipped between stations, and you just stared. Bee’s blue eyes blinked, and you finally pushed your way upright, backing away.

“W-What are you….”

Sam looked annoyed as he nursed his hurt hand.

“If you hadn’t gone on a rampage, maybe we wouldn’t have had to get so rough.” He glowered.

“Aliens!!”

Bee pointed to the sky, and the word that came out this time from his station was something you’d heard in a movie.

“Aliens…”

“Yes, aliens!! Are you happy!! You spent the last few weeks poking your nose into our business, now you know. Optimus Prime and Bumblebee here are freaking aliens from another planet that came here to stop other evil aliens that tried to wipe out the human race. We’ve been protecting them as thanks for not letting us go poof into dust!!!”

Sam was huffing angrily from his long speech.

“Calm down Sam.” Optimus said.

“I’m going to take a walk.” He grumbled, sending you a spiteful look as he walked off. Mikaela followed, not before sending you an awkward smile.

“I’m sorry about that, just give us a few minutes.” She walked with him, patting his back. Now it was just you and the two huge aliens. You swallowed.

“I assure you that we mean you no harm. Our only job is to protect the human race from Megatron’s followers. We are allies. That is why it is imperative that our existence in this world stays between very few. We’ve already been exposed once. We cannot run that risk again.”

You clenched the phone in your back pocket.

“P-People deserve to know the truth!! What happened in Mission city, it was all real!! The government covered it all up, lied and said it was some futile attempt by another country. T-This whole time it’s all been a lie!!”

“Sometimes the truth poses more harm than good.” Optimus stated.

You couldn’t believe this.

“Why should I even believe you, this could all be a trick. What if I release what I have right now to the entire internet, would you kill me?” You were treading on dangerous waters, you know that.

“Believe what you will, I cannot stop you from making a decision. Nor will I hurt you.” He sounds almost sincere. Bumblebee takes a step, and the ground gives a little rumble. He kneels to your height, and you hold your breath.

“We’d never hurt you (Y/N).”

Those blue eyes look so innocent, and his voice is the same. The same Bee you’d been dogging for the last three weeks.

“Please (Y/N).” Your hands shake, and reach into your back pocket, gritting your teeth.

“Damn it!!”

You dropped the phone on the floor, smashing it under your feet. Optimus’s optics blinked in surprise.

“Are you happy now?”

Bumblebee knew it took a lot not to follow through with that story. He did a little dance, and you almost fell over. He caught himself, waving his hands in apology. You just released a heavy breath.

So much for your juicy story.

~~~

“Hey (Y/N)!!”

You jump at that voice, and you grab your bag. You’ve been so distracted that you haven’t realized you’re the last one in the classroom. Bee steps inside and he closes the door. Moving backwards, you watch him carefully. He looks like he does a full body scan of you.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, so you can calm down.”

How does he even know you’re panicking? Your face was completely neutral.

“Are you…reading me?”

He looks to the side.

“I’m not exactly human.”

He says it like he’s sad about it. It’s weird, you spent so long trying to read him. Now that you know the truth behind his happy go lucky nature, you aren’t sure what to do with it. More than anything, he should have hated you. All that time chasing him around digging for a story. They could have easily gotten rid of you. Yes it would have raised some red flags, but if the government covered up an entire alien invasion, burying one person would be a piece of cake.

You finally loosen your grip on your bag.

“B-Back at the alley, why didn’t you just take the phone. You guys are super robots.”

It would have been so easy to take what they wanted and threaten you.

“I guess I was kind of hoping you’d keep our secret. I also..” He’s shifting on his feet.

“You also what?”

“I really wanted us to be friends.”

When he looks at you, there’s so much innocence in that gaze. Your first thought is that he’s messing with you, but you don’t read that at all. You aren’t sure what to think at this point.

“Are you pulling my leg?”

Bee’s eyebrows scrunch up in confusion, and he looks down at your legs.

“No I’m not. Y-Your legs look fine to me.”

He looks generally lost, and despite yourself you smile.

“You really are an alien.”

So, it’s possible that you won’t be taken out to keep their secret, that’s good to know.

“What about this one?”

You hold out your closed palm, and Bee looks at it.

“It’s an eraser.” You open your hand, and sure enough it’s an ice cream patterned eraser.

“So that’s mad strength, super hearing, crazy hacking skills, and some bionic type vision.” You make a mental note and Bee smiles.

“I thought you were giving up the story.”

“I am, doesn’t mean I can’t still gather data for myself.”

Sam and Mikaela are sitting in his backyard. Now that you know their secret, you were never shy to stop by. Try as he might, Sam couldn’t get rid of you, and Bee liked your company. It’s obvious at this point that he has very little say in what happens. Mikaela laughs at the small frown Sam has.

“Sooner or later you’re going to have to trust her.”

“She bit me.”

“Are you really still mad about that?”

“She never apologized!”

He was a child sometimes.

You and Bee are seated under a tree, and he’s playing with Sam’s dog. You steal a glance at him. If you hadn’t seen it yourself, you wouldn’t have believed it.

“Do you miss it, your home?”

He nods.

“I do, all the time. Everything on this planet is so different.” He looks down, flexing his fingers.

“I used to wonder if it would have been better if we all just perished. Maybe then this world would have been spared of our war. There would be peace.”

Of all the things he could have considered, that’s not one you thought would cross his mind. Everytime you see him, he’s always smiling.

Happy.

“This world was messed up way before you guys came. I don’t think a few alien robots can do much more than what people have already done. “

He smiles, but it doesn’t truly reach his eyes.

“I’m glad you’re here.” He looks over at you, and this time it seems like you’ve finally gotten through to him. Bee just stares, and you jump when a spark bursts from his hand. Mojo jolts, jumping back and running around barking aggressively. Sam starts chasing the poor pup down, and you look back at Bee concerned.

“Are you alright?!”

He nods a bit nervously.

“Y-Yeah I just had a little short. It’s no big deal.”

He’s moving a bit fidgety, and you know something’s up, but you decide against asking. The last time you went poking it landed you in a hairy position. He is an alien after all. You can’t hope to understand everything.

~~~

Whenever you just needed a break from the world, your go to activity was a little walk or jog. This particular afternoon you’re walking through the woods on a path. The quiet was therapeutic.

Or so you thought.

“Move move, shake shake, now drop! What your momma said!!”

The blaring speakers from a car makes you turn. You’re a bit stunned at the car that comes speeding down the trail. Expertly dodging trees and fallen branches. You jolt when it jumps a particular log. As the camaro is airborne, Bumblebee transforms. When he lands, he’s standing upright, hands now on his hips. You’d fallen onto your butt at the harsh landing. He looks down, shoulders raised a bit apologetically.

“Sorry sport.” His radio spits out.

You rise, dusting your pants as you glare at him.

“I asked you to meet me, not crush me.” You lecture. He puts his hands together in what you assume is an apology. You just chuckle, shaking your head.

“What do you need, soldier?”

It’s so funny how he manages to pull dialogues from so many stations.

“I just wanted company.” Bumblebee points to himself.

“Yeah, who else is here dummy.” You giggle at the cute way his optics blink.

“Come on, there’s a really nice spot up ahead that we can chill at.” You reach for his mental hand, grabbing one of his fingers as you pull him along. Bumblebee just follows, his engines revving just a smidge.

Twenty minutes later you pull up to your spot. It’s a little clearing. The trees provide a decent cover, yet he can still see the expense of greenery up ahead. The view was beautiful. You take a seat on a log that looks perfectly shaped into a seat.

“I come here all the time, it’s my secret spot.” You explain. He sits beside you, knees tucked to his chest awkwardly.

“Relax Bee, no one comes here except me.”

It takes him a minute, but he stretches his legs out.

“It’s nice here.”

This time he doesn’t use the radio. You grin.

“Sure is. I’ve been coming to this place for years. It’s my stress relief ball. When things get crazy or I just need a break from life this is where I am. You’re the only one that knows about it now.”

His head turns at that, and you just send him a smile.

“Now you know my secret too.”

He’s not sure how to respond to that.

“She’s so cute.”

So far he's been doing a decent job of keeping his inner feelings to himself, but it’s hard when you keep sending him those smiles. He doesn’t realize until he’s already reaching out. His finger brushes the side of your cheek, and your expression changes to one of surprise. He holds your stare for a few minutes before he processes what he’s just done. Bumblebee practically yanks his hand back.

“I’m sorry!!”

He waves around frantically,

You still appear a bit dazed, and you take his hand, seizing his crazy movements. He stopped altogether.

“It’s okay Bee, I don’t mind.” Your voice sounds so soft. Warm. You shift your position, moving closer to his seated form.

“Bee, is it okay if I..” Your hand is outstretched and he gets the message. He nods, because words have failed him. It’s not done all at once. Your movements are a bit slow, precise. Now standing much closer, both your hands extend, and you cup his metal cheeks in interest. Bumblebee is almost afraid to move. Because he’s terrified that the second he does, then your touch will be gone. His eyes closed, and the sound his engine makes is almost a purr of content. Your smile widens as he leans into your hands.

“Wow…”

It’s crazy, a few weeks ago you thought he was probably some kind of monster. Now you feel almost ashamed for making that assumption. This being was far from a monster.

He’s an angel.

Your curiosity gets the better of you and you accidentally stumble into his lap. To steady yourself, you brace your hands on his plated chest. His hand moves to your waist on instinct. You look up at him sheepishly.

“S-Sorry about that.”

“No problem at all!”

This wasn’t the worst thing to happen. He thinks for sure you’ll pull away now that you’ve gathered yourself, but you lean up, wrapping your arms around his neck as you hug him. Bumblebee grows a bit stiff.

“I’m really glad I met you, Bee.” You breathe against his neck. His optics close, and he does his best not to give off too much of a reaction.

“I’m overheating!”

He is a bit alarmed. Did you really have no idea what this was doing to him? He pats your back stiffly.

“S-So am I.”

You pull back, and when you stare at him, he’s so adorably confused. You grin, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

That’s the last blow.

“Systems buffering.”

You hear from his radio. It looks like he’s stopped functioning.

“B-Bee!!”

He needed some time to get his processes to return.

~~~~

You hand the document to Bumblebee and his eyes lit up as he scanned through the article you’d done on him. When Sam approached you a week ago concerning a piece he wanted you to do on Bee, you sort of thought he’d gone crazy. Then he explained that rather than spilling all of his cybertronian secrets, you present a column on his experiences in life.

“This week’s paper.” you explain.

Bumblebee provided a lot of insight considering what he’s been through. His views and expectations for the future actually made for a good read. It also helps to reinforce his human cover. In a way, you’d gotten your story and Bumblebee’s secret was still safe.

“Wow…that’s me!” He pointed at the picture of himself excitedly and you can’t help but laugh.

“I think this is some of my best work. You’ve actually drawn in an audience. The principal congratulated me this morning. A few of the journalism departments were actually interested in having me for a summer internship.”

“That’s great!”

It really is.

This was the first time you’d held back the punchline for a story and still felt unbelievably fulfilled. Not because of the opportunities that were now being presented, but the unlikely friendship you’ve gained.

“So is this why you were always chasing down a story for Sam and I?” He placed the paper at his side on the porch and you shook your head.

“No, not entirely. “

Bumblebee tilts his head curiously.

“With you it was more instinct than anything else. As for Sam and Mickeala, I guess I was so interested in them because deep down I wanted the same thing they have.” You pull your legs to your chest, and Bumblebee looks over at you.

“It would be nice if I could find someone to look at me like that.” You murmur.

You let out a sigh, shaking your head as you turn back to him with a little laugh.

“Sorry that I’m getting all mushy.” He doesn’t say anything, and you tilt your head.

“I think you’re amazing (Y/N).”

You think maybe he’s just saying that to make you feel better, but his brown eyes are glowing now, a blue hue and you sort of just gape.

“Bee your eyes…”

He blinks, then turns his head.

“Sorry about that! The human body is a lot more complicated than I thought. It’ll pass. I didn’t mean to freak you out.” He’s massaging his eyelids and muttering something under his breath.

“It doesn’t freak me out.” Bumblebee still won’t lift his head.

“Can I see?”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

You place your hand under his chin gently, tilting his head back in your direction.

“I’ve literally seen you change from a walking, talking robot to a human. I think I can handle some glowing eyes. “ He finally opens his eyes, and you swallow. It was amazing the way the lights circled his iris. That topped with his innocent nature and boyish charms, there was no way you could truly be afraid of him.

“See, that's not so bad.” You grin, and a small smile makes its way on his face. You move your hand, but neither of you have looked away. Bumblebee is still looking at you, and when he starts to get closer, you take a breath and pull back. You can see the instant regret on his face.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to… I don't know why I..I..” He’s rambling, similar to the way he does when he’s communicating through the radio.

“I-Its fine Bee don’t worry.” You mess with your shirt.

This is terribly awkward.

“Y-You know it’s normal for boys your age to be interested in that stuff.” Why the hell do you sound like a sex ed teacher.

“W-With the new body you just want to test that stuff out and it’s fine. I just think you should do it with someone you actually have feelings for you know.”

“Someone I have feelings for…do you mean like Sam and Mikeala?”

So he does understand.

“Exactly. They care about each other, so it’s normal. So when you find someone like that, you should go for it.”

“I’ve already found someone like that.”

Your guts twists at that.

“Y-You have.”

Why did you sound so disappointed, of course he found someone.

“Well that’s good. You should probably tell them.”

“I have feelings for you (Y/N).”

You pause, hell your entire body froze. Some part of you thinks it’s a joke, but when you look over at Bumblebee, his eyes emit so much hope that it makes your heart hammer.

“Me..?”

You whisper.

He smiles awkwardly.

“I just think you’re so confident and driven and kind. When you found out about me you could have told the world, but you kept my secret. You protected me even though you didn’t have too. Also sometimes you make this face when you’ve just snagged a good story. And when you accidentally eat spicy foods your face scrunches up and it’s so cute!”

He’s actually gushing.

You can hardly believe this.

Bumblebee takes in your speechless expression, clearing his throat.

“A-Anyway that’s all I wanted to say.”

Now he looks bashful, and you want to interject and tell him that he’s the one who’s absolutely adorable in everything he does.

“If there is someone else that you-”

“There’s no one else.” You interrupt.

You weren’t sure it was possible, but the light in his eyes shine brighter, and you smile.

His cheeks are a bit flushed now.

“S-Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

You’re the one who moves a bit closer now. Bumblebee looks your way, and your gaze trails to his lips.

“Before..were you trying to kiss me?”

He nods, partially in a trance.

“Yeah…”

“Do you mind if I kiss you instead?”

“Please do.” He hums. You release a little giggle, hand resting on top of his as you move in. He’s nervous, you can see it all over his face. The closer you get, the faster your heart beats. Bumblebee’s eyes slide shut slowly as you both begin to meet in the middle.

“Bee you ready to go.”

Sam walks out onto the porch, and you both turn.

“Y-Yeah I’m ready.” He stands, and so do you.

“Damn you Witwicky.” You growl. Sam sends you a look, backing up.

“I’ll take that as my que to leave.” Sam says.

Bumblebee sends you a look that adds to the already erratic beats in your chest.

“Guess I’ll see you at school?” He says softly.

You nod.

“Definitely.”