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writeplace-wrongtime · 8 months

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Before the Bet

First of all, thank you to everyone who interacted with The Bet. Seeing reblogs, likes and comments literally made my week, I appreciate all of you!

It also boosted my motivation, so I'm back with a 5+1 prequel to the bet - It can be read standalone as well, but if you haven't read The Bet, check it out here!

This was meant to be like 2000 words max but here we are.

masterlist coming soon

Word Count: 5k~

CW// mentions of blood/fainting, stabbing, arrest, hospitals, mentions of child kidnapping/death, use of y/n, not beta'd

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5 times reader and Hotch hid their relationship + 1 time they didn't need to

The BAU rarely had quiet days. Whenever they cropped up, it meant hours of catching up on paperwork and emails, and even more so it meant getting to goof around the office without the usual level of urgency. In short, quiet days were nice.

You had spent the morning sorting through all the files in, on, or around your desk, hoping to clear up some space for the files that would surely start piling up again in the coming weeks. Old case files were sorted into one file to be moved to the proper storage rooms, while newer files were sorted according to date and case number, until you had an oldest-newest pile to work through in the afternoon.

Occasionally on quiet days, Aaron would offer to buy everyone coffee, and Emily and Derek would fight over who got to go pick it up. Today, was not one of those days. JJ and Henry had brought little Henry in for a visit, and with them came fresh muffins and cakes from the bakery near their house. A little after noon, you decided it was the perfect time for a cheap office-coffee refill, and a quiet time to sneak an extra muffin back to your desk.

The kitchen was quiet, with most of the office either holding off until lunch, or already sorted after their coffee break a couple hours earlier. You had just topped up the instant coffee when the door creaked open. You didn’t look up until a hand ghosted your lower back, and the sleeve of Aaron’s suit reached your peripheral vision. He leaned against the countertop, somewhere between beside and behind you, and you turned to face him. There was a smile on his lips, but a crinkle on his forehead where he’d previously been frowning at paperwork.

‘Coffee?’ He just nodded as you reached past him to grab his usual “no.1 Dad” mug Spencer and JJ had bought him one Christmas as a gag gift. You filled the two mugs, enjoying the closeness you often missed out on during work hours.

‘Dinner,’ He spoke suddenly, catching your attention, ‘Us, we should get dinner.’

You had had many dates over the 2 months since your relationship with Aaron had started, but every time he directly asked you out, whether to dinner or a movie, he always seemed unsure of himself.

‘You asking me on a date, sir?’ You teased, leaning against the counter in a perfect mirror of his position. He laughed, a quiet breathy sound that sent butterflies to your stomach.

‘Trying to, yes.’ Your smile grew.

‘Dinner sounds lovely, Aaron,’ Your voice had become quieter, but no less audible to him as you leaned fractionally closer. ‘Jack was telling me about the restaurant you went to last week, the one that had the dinosaur colouring sheets?’

He nodded thoughtfully as you slid his coffee towards him. He took a sip, before leaving the mug back down on the counter. ‘They had a great selection of colours,’ He said with a fond smile. You loved hearing him speak about Jack; the obvious pride displayed across his face whenever his son came into the conversation.

You were just about to ask if he’d kept the coloured sheet when the door’s squeaky hinges creaked loudly, and you jumped apart. Emily stood at the door’s entrance, eyebrows raised at the scene before her. Aaron looked between you and her, moving another step back as subtly as he could.

‘Thanks, uh, that eyelash has been bothering me all morning!’ You blurted out, voice just slightly too loud. You brought your hand to your face, wiping at the phantom eyelash as if to remove it. With a little more distance now between you, you were able to steady your beating heart. When Aaron made no move to leave, you picked up your own coffee, added a touch of cold water, and made a beeline for the door. You rolled your eyes at Emily as you passed, pointedly not looking at the kissy face she made when Aaron had turned back to the sink. Emily moved further into the kitchen then, but Aaron was already heading for the door, eyes following you as you sat back down at your desk with a muffin he hadn't even seen you grab.

‘Hey Hotch?’ He paused at the door, turning to see Emily with his coffee mug in hand, holding it out as if to offer it to him, ‘You forget something?’ There was an obvious teasing lilt to her tone, but he chose to ignore it, hoping he would be back in his office before the scarlet tint reached his cheeks. He wasn’t. He opted to instead hide his face behind the rim of the mug, taking a sip of the hot coffee. With one last glance towards your desk, he disappeared back into his office, and if anyone noticed the door shut a little faster than normal, no one mentioned it.

The knock on his office door alerted Aaron to your early morning arrival. He was used to being the first to the office, especially when the cases were stacking up like they were now. Since your relationship had started 4 months ago, you had taken to bringing him coffee on such days. He appreciated it.

‘Morning, handsome.’ You had a sleepy smile on your face as you stepped into the office. In your hands you carried two coffee cups. While you hadn’t spent the night at Aaron’s apartment, you knew he would be up early and in the office at a ridiculous hour. Where there was work to be done, he was always nearby. His shoulders visibly relaxed as you placed the coffees in front of him.

‘I don’t know what I’d do without you,’ He sighed, an equally tired smile on his own face. The hands of his watch ticked loudly in the otherwise quiet office, and a quick glance showed it was nearly half seven. You weren’t due in until 9. Hands now free, you pulled a chair closer, settling into it before picking back up your own coffee. You reached out and plucked a file from the desk.

‘A problem shared is a problem halved!’ You argued when he raised his eyebrows at you. The usual accompanying frown was absent, so you knew he wasn’t really annoyed at the intrusion, nor the cheesy proverb.

‘Not when half of the problems are confidential.’ You rolled your eyes but conceded. The file was returned to the pile, and you moved to stand. ‘But the company would be appreciated.’

Your attempt to hide your smile was terrible. You blamed your tiredness. Aaron appreciated this time with you. Early enough that there was no worry about anyone seeing the fondness in his expression while you told him about your adventures in cooking the evening before, or the lovestruck smile on your face when he took your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before returning to the file in front of him, fingers still intertwined with yours.

Well, no one except David Rossi. David who had come into work early to enjoy the peace of organising himself for the day before everyone else arrived. David who quietly closed his office door to allow you what little time together you could get at the office.

Weekends off were rare. So, when they came around, everyone celebrated. Team-bonding nights out had become more regular since Emily’s return from “death”. Friday nights before a weekend off were almost always spent together at a bar, club, or occasionally Rossi’s house for impromptu cooking lessons. Penelope and Emily often took turns trying to wing-man for you, and even JJ joined in after a couple drinks. Usually, you used the excuse of wanting to enjoy their company, but occasionally you called an early night to get a break from their incessant need to insert themselves into your sex-life. If you’d been single, you probably would’ve appreciated it. But you weren’t.

The previous night had been one of those early nights. Aaron hadn’t come out with everyone, insisting he needed to finish up some reports and to go on without him. As much as you’d enjoyed the few hours out with your team, you’d decided early in the night that once you’d had three drinks, you were going to go back to Aaron’s apartment and enjoy the rest of the evening with him. It wasn’t often that you had the apartment to yourselves on a Friday night, but Jessica had offered to have Jack for a sleepover. You wanted to make the most of it.

To wake up naturally, no blaring alarm clock or ringing phone, was a blessing. The room was lit by dim light behind closed curtains, and the only sounds were that of birds outside and the quiet snoring of Aaron behind you. His arm was draped over your waist, keeping you warm where his bare skin touched yours. Slow mornings were good mornings. You rolled in his arms until you were facing him, tracing the outline of his face with your eyes. He really was the most handsome man you’d ever seen. It was something you reminded him often.

‘Morning,’ His voice, though usually deep, was always deeper in the mornings, sending shivers down your spine. Your eyes met his half-open ones, and you leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. The only thing you loved more than spending the night with Aaron, was waking up to him the next morning. He chased your lips as you leaned back, swallowing your laugh as he caught them with his. Large hands encircled your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

Swinging a leg over his waist, you manoeuvred yourself over him without breaking the kiss, earning a groan as you rolled your hips languidly down on his. His lips broke away from yours, only to reattach further down your neck, wandering hands moving up and under your pyjama top in their search for skin. You buried your fingers in his hair, tugging gently as his hips rose to meet yours. Moving one hand to the back of your neck, the other around your back, Aaron flipped you, positioning himself on top of you. He kept his weight off you with one arm, which lay next to your head while the other resumed its journey up your side towards your chest. He took a moment to look down at you, appreciating the view below him before he returned his lips to the expanse of untouched skin below your collarbone.

Your hands were half-way to tugging at his shirt when the loud ring of his phone broke you apart. Your eyes stayed closed, a sigh leaving you as he rolled over and off you to grab the device off the side table.

‘Hello?’ His voice was still breathy as he picked up the call, but you could tell instantly it was a work call as his voice became stern and serious. He was on the call for barely thirty seconds before you realised what a work call at 9am on a Saturday meant for you both. ‘Of course. I’ll be there soon.’

The disappointment at your ruined weekend plans was evident on your face. Aaron was already sitting up, stretching out sleep-sore muscles and trying to get the blood circulating back around his entire body. You opened your mouth to try and persuade him to lie back down, just for five more minutes, when your own phone rang. You didn’t need to see the caller ID to know it was Penelope, the unique ringtone she’d set for herself playing loud and clear.

‘Please god let this be a social call.’ There were nicer ways to answer the phone; you didn’t care to use one.

‘I hate being the bearer of bad news, but they found a body in Monogahela national forest, and its not looking pretty,’ Penelope said, an apologetic tone to her normally cheery voice, ‘But don’t worry my love, our resident Boy Genius promised to bring coffees and pastries for everyone.’

‘He’s really earning that genius title,’ You laughed, turning your head slightly to get a better view of Aaron, who was pulling dress pants out of the wardrobe and searching for a tie to match the shirt he’d already laid out at the foot of the bed. He held up two options when he saw you looking. It was very domestic, and you felt all the more disappointed that in one short hour, you’d be back to pretending you hadn’t spent the night - and start of the morning - between the sheets with him. Back to pretending that you weren’t planning to spend the weekend helping Jack bake cookies and cakes for his schools bake sale on Monday, and going for a run with Aaron before you tried to recreate one of Dave’s pasta recipes for dinner with Jack and Jessica. Back to pretending he was just your boss.

You looked away, trying to focus back on Penelope’s words as she explained the flight times and what you needed to add to your go bag. You were glad you’d put your spare overnight bag into the boot of Aarons car.

‘Fuck!’

Yours eyes widened at the sudden exclamation, head whipping back around to see Aaron holding his foot. You barely had time to deduce that he’d stubbed his toe before Penelope’s voice was screaming through the receiver at you.

‘OH MY GOD! Was that a man???’ You were at a loss for words, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. Thankfully, Penelope had no interest in waiting for your response. ‘I thought you went home early, you sly fox!’

‘Listen Pen, I have to go,’ You said quickly, ‘See you soon!’

You pulled the phone away from your ear, her threats of finding out all the details later cut off as you hung up. There was a moment of silence, before you burst out laughing, clutching your stomach tightly. Aaron’s laugh followed yours seconds later, both of you revelling in the ridiculousness of the situation. Seven months of secrets and it was nearly all revealed over a stubbed toe. By the time the laughter had subsided, Aaron had sat back down next to you. You leaned into him, pressing a kiss to his exposed collarbone.

‘You know she’s gonna quiz me about this the entire flight, right?’

Cases involving children were always hard. After a week of searching and profiling and praying, the team had identified and located the unsub. Five missing children over six months. The latest victim, a young girl kidnapped from the local fair, had been the missing piece of the puzzle that led you to the unsub, but the team had been too late, arriving in time to catch the unsub wrapping her body for disposal. The arrest had been horrible, but sitting with JJ while she informed the victim’s parents was even worse.

By the end of the day, you were completely and utterly drained. You wanted to be back in your own bed, in your own apartment, not in a stuffy hotel room overthinking every decision you had made. Those parents wanted their little girl back. You tried to push the thought from your mind. After nearly an hour in the vicious hell of your own company, you dragged yourself off the bed, and down the hallway to the room you knew Aaron had. You had never been more grateful for the increased hotel budget allowing the team individual rooms on this case.

He was quick to answer the door, still in his suit, though his tie hung undone around his neck. He looked roughly how you felt. His frown deepened when he saw you, standing with your arms around your torso, eyes red and puffy.

‘Come here,’ he said, already reaching out for you. No more words were needed as he wrapped you up in his embrace, holding you against him. The door swung shut behind you as he guided you further into the room. It was identical to yours, with a double bed in the centre, a small coffee machine and mug on the edge of a small desk, and a door leading into a small bathroom. Unlike yours, most of Aaron’s belongings had been packed away into his overnight bag, gun and badge sitting on top of the open bag.

‘I hate cases like this,’ you whispered into his neck, letting the repetitive motion of his hand rubbing your back soothe you.

‘I know, so do I.’

You stood together in the middle of the room for a long time before you pulled back. Not far enough to be out of Aaron’s arms, but enough that you could look at him. His brow was furrowed as he met your gaze, face all full of worry and exhaustion. You reached up, running your thumb along his brow to soften the expression, smoothing out the lines. He leaned into your touch. Catching your wrist in his hand, he peppered kisses along the inside of it, following the line all the way to your palm. It was methodical, kisses following the vein as far as they could.

You looped the fingers of your free hand into the loop of his tie, pulling him to you until your lips met his. The kiss wasn’t rushed, or hungry. It was soft and gentle, anchoring you to the present, and away from the past two days. When he pulled back, he let his forehead rest against yours, eyes still closed. It was the moment of calm you had been hoping for since you’d first arrived. It wouldn’t solve all your problems, or take away all the guilt you felt, but it could keep them from overwhelming you entirely. After a minute, you opened your eyes.

‘I really should head back, my bags not going to pack itself, and I do not want to be stuck here any longer than I have to be,’ you said, stepping out of his space with much difficulty. You wanted to stay, borrow his shirt to sleep in and worry about everything else tomorrow, but your flight was early, and you really didn’t want to be rushing to get packed before take-off.

‘I’ll be here if you need me,’ He voice was almost hoarse with how soft he spoke, pulling you back in for one last kiss. You turned then, and left the room, pulling the door shut behind you. You still felt horrible, but the heavy weight on your chest had eased off. That was all you could hope for tonight.

‘Isn’t that Hotch’s room?’ You froze like a deer in headlights outside the door as Spencer’s voice reached your ears. You turned to look at him over your shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t notice the panic-stricken expression on your face.

‘Uh, yeah,’ You forced out, ‘Yeah he uh- you see, my shower wasn’t working.’ Your brain felt fried, but the excuse wasn’t the worst you’d come up with over the previous nine months. ‘He let me us his. Shower.’ Spencer blinked at you, and for a frighteningly long minute, he said nothing.

‘That’s nice of him,’ He said finally, lips curling into a half-smile, ‘Hey, Emily, Derek and I were going to go down to the bar for a drink, if you want to come?’

‘Sounds great, Spence,’ You mirrored his smile, ‘I need to pack, so I’ll meet you down there?’ He nodded, and with that he disappeared down the hall, and you took a deep breath. You’d have to tell them eventually, but not tonight. Not tonight.

You wouldn’t realise until days later that your hair had been completely dry, you had no towels with you, and your excuse had been ridiculously transparent.

You knew it was a bad idea to sit next to Aaron on the flight back, but it had been a tough case, and you couldn’t help but yearn for his comfort. Even though it had been short, everyone seemed to be feeling it. With Derek passed out across the couch, and Emily and Spencer focused on their game of cards, there hadn’t been much stopping you gingerly leaning closer to the warmth radiating from the man next to you. He acknowledged your careful closeness by letting the free hand not occupied by the case report drop to rest on your knee under the table.

The coffee you’d made for yourself after boarding had only increased your adrenaline crash, and you could feel your eyelids drooping even as you fought to keep them open. It was a losing battle. The soft material of Aaron’s shirt made contact with your cheek as you leaned against his shoulder. The muscles beneath you tensed, but not enough to wake you from the sleep that had taken over quite rapidly.

Aaron glanced down at you before back up at the rest of the team. JJ was nowhere to be seen, probably in the small airplane kitchen, and the others seemed to be otherwise occupied. When he was sure no one was paying any attention to your little corner of the plane, he allowed himself to relax. It was a needed comfort after the weeks work. His thumb drew soft circles on your thigh, and for the first time all week, he closed the case file and his eyes. Just a minute of peace, that’s all he needed.

The minute ended rather abruptly when the hushed voices of Emily and JJ reached his ears. He stubbornly kept his eyes shut.

‘Think he’d let the rest of his drool on his shoulder like that?’ Emily’s voice was just about audible, the teasing grin on her face clear in his mind even without seeing it. He thought about waking you, pretending it was all just tiredness, and moving on like there weren’t four pairs of eyes on you both. But he couldn’t. Not when your body curved toward him, unaware of its unconscious betrayal. Your hair tickled where it brushed against his neck.

Instead, he opened his eyes slowly, giving the onlookers a chance to turn away. They didn’t need to know he’d heard them. He didn’t need to know they would be continuing this conversation shortly after the plane landed. Dave, who sat across the row from Aaron, hid his smirk with his coffee mug, returning his focus to his book. With one last soft look in your direction (which didn’t go unnoticed by Emily and Spencer), Aaron picked up the case file and got back to work.

‘Fuck.’ You were bent at the middle, hands on your knees for support as you tried to catch a breath. Derek and one of the uniformed officers were already hauling the unsub off towards a police cruiser. A second uniformed officer was searching the area for the weapon, which had been lost in the scuffle. You brushed off Emily’s concern, promising her you were just winded. Straightening up, you swallowed a wince as your hands ached to go to your stinging side. ‘Just, just need to sit for a minute.’

‘We’ll take care of everything here, why don’t you go with Reid, get checked out by the paramedics?’ You blinked rapidly as you tried to focus back on her words.

‘I’m okay, Em, really,’ Your chest felt like it was on fire with every breath you took, but you forced a reassuring smile. She didn’t look reassured. ‘Fine, mom, I’ll get checked when Reid’s done.’

Emily’s concerned look didn’t fade, but she nodded, and you turned back towards the line of black SUVs. Once she had moved off to help make a perimeter around the scene, you slowly walked back to them. Thankfully, the lights and sirens had since been switched off. You pulled yourself into the passenger seat, trying to pretend it didn’t hurt so much. You couldn’t be weak in front of your team. You’d gotten a shock, that’s all. You were fine.

A wave of tiredness crashed over you as soon as you sat down, leaning forward to balance yourself against the dash. You weren’t catching your breath, instead finding it harder and harder to fill your lungs. A few more minutes, that’s all you needed. You tried desperately to convince yourself the words were true, but as another breath burned its way down your trachea, panic started to set in. All too suddenly, your FBI vest felt too tight, your arms heavy as you tried to tear it off. With a lot of activity, you managed to get it loosened, but as soon as the pressure was released, your head started to spin rapidly. You closed your eyes tightly, trying to dispel the feeling, but within seconds, a darkness had swallowed you.

It could’ve been seconds, minutes, or hours before a sliver of consciousness crept back into your body. There was a noise to your left, and you dazedly tried to turn your head, but it wouldn’t move. You tried to focus on the window in front of you, but your vision was swimming. Feeling wobbly, you tried to push yourself up straighter, tried to turn and move, and then there was a warm hand on your shoulder, pushing you gently back against the seat.

‘Stay still.’ The words were commanding, but the voice was laced with worry. ‘The paramedics are almost here.’ And then, more distant as if the owner of the voice had moved away from you, he yelled, ‘Where are the medics?!’

You didn’t remember much after that, holding onto the voice as you drifted in and out of consciousness. Aaron remembered the whole journey too clearly. Guilt crept through him, worsening the longer it took to reach the hospital. He was sent to the waiting room while you were rushed into surgery. With an abundance of time, and a lack of answers, all he could do was replay the scene in his mind over and over and over again.

The arrest was meant to be easy. With no victims in the house, and no wives or kids in the picture to be used as hostages, it should’ve been easy to disarm the suspect and bring him into custody. Instead, he had let you just close enough to him to grab you and press a small knife against your side. You’d let your guard down when he’d given up so easily. You should’ve known better. It was a tense negotiation, the point of the blade piercing the material of your vest as JJ spoke to the man, Derek sneaking slowly behind him.

As soon as the unsub was fully distracted by JJ, Derek had moved in. Tackling the unsub to the ground had knocked you down with them, your head hitting the ground with a thump. The knife went skittering off as the man’s arm collided with the ground, but with Derek’s knee against his back and arms pressing down on his shoulders, he quickly lost the fight.

Aaron wanted to rush to you, to gather you in his arms and not let you go, but the captain of the police department had already turned his attention to the growing crowd of journalists and bystanders trying to get closer to get the full story. Emily had already gone to you, so with an unconscious scowl, Aaron turned and followed the captain towards the tape.

It wasn’t long before he was joined by JJ and Dave, as the trio attempted to subdue the now impatient journalists and horrified neighbours.

‘Hotch!’ Emily’s voice carried over the commotion to reach his ears. He turned to watch her as she weaved through the crowd of officers to reach him. Dave glanced at them, before redirecting the journalists in front of them onto another question, leaving Aaron the gap he needed to step back.

‘What’s wrong?’ He didn’t wait for her to come to a stop, the concerned look on her face clueing him into the fact something was amiss.

‘Its y/n.’ Aaron swore in that moment his heart stopped beating. ‘They promised they’d get checked out by the medics, but Reid said they haven’t been anywhere near the ambulances.’

A quick glance over his shoulder showed JJ and Dave gaining control of the mob, and he nodded to Emily, already striding away from the mass of bodies. She was quick to follow. Taking the lead, she headed back towards the SUVs, where she assumed you must’ve gone. She hadn’t seen you when she passed, but it had been a quick pass.

Aaron himself nearly missed your figure through the tinted windows, slumped down in the seat. His heart stopped for a second time that day.

‘Get a medic!’ It was his voice yelling out, but it sounded distant, even to his own ears. With the door flung open, he put his hand on your shoulder and shook. Your head lolled with the motion, but your eyes fought to open. You were alive. Feeling resistance under his fingers, he gently pushed you back against the seat, eyes scanning your figure trying to find the damage. ‘Stay still,’ He tried to keep his voice steady and calm, swallowing the lump in his throat as a trail of red caught his attention. The bottom of your vest was torn and a shaded darker than the rest, a small red trail leaking out from underneath onto your white shirt. Carefully manoeuvring you to a position where he had better access, he pressed down hard against the dark spot.

‘The paramedics are almost here.’ He couldn’t tell if you could still hear him, your eyelids fluttering rapidly. He leaned out of the car as far as he could without lessening the pressure, ‘Where are the medics?!’

He could see two people in high vis jackets approaching quickly, Emily leading the way. Two big bags and a stretcher was carried between the two, and it was only mere seconds before they were ushering him back and out of their way so they could assess the damage.

Whatever they decided, it wasn’t good. They removed your vest, and shirt, and by the amount of packing being shoved back into one of the bags, the bleeding wasn’t slowing. If he wasn’t so panicked, Aaron would’ve appreciated how efficiently they worked. It was only five minutes before you were being packed into the back of the ambulance. Dave had been left in charge at the scene, with instructions to come to the hospital as soon as everything was cleared at the scene and the precinct.

The paramedic in the back with Aaron – Thomas, as he’d introduced himself – busied himself with taking sets of vitals every 5 minutes, monitoring the pressure bandages around your abdomen, and ensuring the flow of oxygen was at a steady level. All the while, he tried to keep Aaron clued into what was happening for every step.

By the time they’d reached the hospital, you had a sickly pallor. You were rushed immediately into an emergency theatre. Once the doors closed in front of him, it took every ounce of strength to carry his body to the waiting room. He sat for what felt like days, before a nurse came to find him. In reality it had been an intensive two-hour surgery, and a thankfully uneventful recovery. On route to your room, he was given the news that everything had gone smoothly. Luck had been on your side, and the wound had missed everything important. It had only barely nicked a large vein, which had caused the large bleed, but had been easy to fix. It would be at least six weeks of desk duty, but you would recover.

Sitting at your bedside, Aaron gripped your hand in his, careful not to squeeze too hard. He was positive you’d hit him if you felt he was treating you as if you were fragile, but until you woke up, he would take that chance. With the adrenaline dropping and the relief flooding in, all he could do was hold on and not let go. After 40 minutes of watching for signs of you waking up, Aaron could feel his eyelids dropping. He didn’t try keep them open, instead shuffling the chair closer to the edge of the bed. You would be there when he woke, as he would be when you woke.

Which you did, just over an hour later. Aaron was still asleep, and you were careful not to wake him. If it took you getting stabbed to get him a few extra hours of sleep, you were making damn sure he got all he could. A nurse came into the room shortly after you woke, and Aaron slept through the check-up. It was your turn to watch him. Admiring the calm in his sleepy features, and gently squeezing the hand still clutching yours. The nurse had let you know he’d been there from the second he'd been allowed in the room. You didn’t need to hear the words. You knew he loved you.

‘You can see them now.’

It had been a longer wait for the rest of the team, who’d arrived shortly after Aaron had left the waiting room. Together they stood and followed the nurse down the hallway into a quieter section of the hospital. Through the open door, they could see you, attached to tubes and wires, but eyes open and sitting up. Next to you was Aaron. The spare visitors seat had been pulled as close to the bed as possible, and that’s where he sat. He was clearly asleep, given the closed eyes and steady breaths. He was leaned slightly towards you, head tilted down. With his sleeves rolled to his elbows, his tie loose around his neck, and his hair in disarray, he looked about as unkempt as the team had ever seen him. But he also looked calm. His usually furrowed brow was relaxed, and his lips forwent their usual downturn in exchange for a slightly parted straight line. Your thumb absentmindedly smoothed over the skin of his knuckles, and you smiled fondly at his sleeping figure. It was sickeningly obvious from your expression that you had so much love for him.

When you finally felt eyes on you, you looked up to see four eager faces greeting you just outside your door. The fond smile on your face only got fonder as they quietly piled into the room. The noise woke Aaron, who’s eyes immediately found yours. Pulling your joined hands up, he pressed his lips to the back of your hand, before straightening up in the seat. He didn’t drop your hand.

Surrounded by your family, you couldn’t help but think that really, you were going to be just fine.

~~~~~

taglist: @michasia24

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #x reader #reader insert #gn reader #y/n #bau team #5 + 1 fic #5+1 times

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sugar-petals · 1 year

Text

The Canvas (m)⎮𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚕!𝚓𝚓𝚔

/ - CANVAS (n.) a tattoo client or professional ink model.

pairing. › dancer!jungkook + female tattoo artist!reader

❞ SUMMARY. jk serves as your canvas for a renowned LA tattoo competition. experienced in keeping it calm, you lift the trophy by giving him a full torso makeover. the prize money and glory is yours, plus his new tattoo couldn’t look any better. so, what are you gonna do with all that?

MASTERLIST | [READ IT ON AO3]

↳ WARNINGS/TAGS. slow burn, femdom undertones, ponytail jk, friends to lovers energy 💕, smut + slice of life, jk is buff and shy (...and a sucka for pain 😛), warning for needles obviously, profanity, jk earns money as a camboy, riding, sub-ish koo {terminology note: `skin break´ ≠ injury, but blank skin space left between ink bits}

word count. 14k

↦ CARO’S NOTE. happy 5th year blog anniversary — gotta celebrate it with a story! you will find a lot of tattoo slang and the various schools of practice in this, but it will be explained along the way. enjoy, and thank you for all the support over the years 🐯

✪ PS. in the banner you see a famous tattoo artist, miss ryan ashley and her partner. it’s just for the aesthetic 😄 the reader insert doesn’t look like this, her description is vague as always :)

„Turns out we got actual money to blow!“

You overlook the six tied-up cash stacks on the makeshift plastic table, presented in a small iron case. In between, a massive champagne bottle: Unopened, because neither of you drinks. And, to be honest: It would not be necessary, nor pleasant in today’s oppressive heat.

The shaky nervousness from before the contest, far gone. Only adrenaline remains. And a jumping joy that makes Jungkook cover his face with both palms flat.

„I still can’t believe it!“

Since it’s his first time doing something like this, the whole event has left him increasingly weak in the knees. Jungkook really did look surprised when the results were announced in bright screen colors and the room was in absolute shambles. Standing ovations, even a couple cameras, big noise, everything.

„I know, man,“ you reply. „Wild day.“

„We did it.“

„Yeah. We can definitely be satisfied.“

You sitting down after all that maneuvering around on stage and behind it — it felt like a good way to cool off. Standing before an audience for two hours was something not to be underestimated.

Thank God there was an actual aircon back here. But still, there’s so much excess energy in your body. You can’t help but turn and turn the metal trophy in your hands, and kick your feet ever so lightly at the thought of really taking it home this time. Jungkook can’t settle on a chair at all. He’s just pacing around not knowing what to even do with his hands.

„The competition… They were so strong,“ he puffs out — the tone loaded with genuine respect rather than the much stricter attitude of discernment shared among today’s attending pros, yourself included. „They really preferred yours and not the tiger. Or the guy with the Leonardo DiCaprio portrait. That’s incredible.“

„Maybe. I think we got a better rating because yours healed so well,“ you gaze over your work again. The masterpiece of ink on him. You’re carrying a certain admitted pride in your words, but also relief. This has been one of your most ambitious tattoos in all the 15 years you’ve been in the game. It’s seriously been a journey.

In fact, the preparation cost more time and effort than inking a month’s worth of regular clients. Yes, daily practice was one thing. Competing, another. Especially with a model like that: Jungkook, whose performance had been nothing short of electric and stellar. On the ink bed, and on stage alike.

Even your fiercest opponent trying to impress the judges with their wannabe surrealistic tiger didn’t stand a chance against the level of 3D shapes and shading you created on his body. But the decision of the jury seemed close regardless, maybe for dramatic effect, so you retired backstage overjoyed. Where, and you really feel like you did his body justice, his tattoo looks just as vibrant under more crisp and cool energy-saving lamps overhead.

„Yeah, it really did heal nicely, though,“ he pats his solar plexus, almost massaging it. „It feels good.“

You bet it does. Jungkook is the type of client you would describe as— well. Very healthy.

Your mind would add some more colorful adjectives to that. But that string of thought really does stay at the back of your brain where some of your naughtier tattoo ideas reside as well. Which, and you were fine with that anyway, was certainly not the topic of today’s contest. Which rather wanted artists to show off their clean lines and some pretty harmless motifs, mind you.

Sure, the process of contests was always a little different. You didn’t care much. Some tattoo awards had the artists ink their models literally a couple hours beforehand. Others did a speed challenge on-site. Mutually nerve-wracking, but it was doable. Artists with a tight schedule did the same in their personal studios, after all. Canvasses would walk on stage with red blotchy skin all around the tattoo. This show, however, placed emphasis on longevity, the final result. To be prepared until the last detail, Jungkook had walked up in your downtown studio ten times beforehand.

As of now, a highly stylized XL rendition of Jungkook’s Doberman graced his torso. An illusion of color, created by brush strokes in ink rather than an exact replica of the polaroid pictures he had given you. Bam was a pretty cute pet dog, but also a very lively sight to see. Since you had insisted to watch Bam in motion like a live study, Jungkook brought him to the parlor more than once, which added to the hours you had spent together.

He was quite a majestic, eye-catching, streamlined dog. You had often tattooed smaller portraits of pets. Their faces usually, but not the entire animal, on a whole upper body for that matter. People usually wanted other tattoos to take precedence, like a landscape design. It took you five hours to come up with a dynamic winding pose. One that showed Bam in a slightly right-twisted bird’s eye perspective. Not in actual brown that was true to the real-life dog, but black, adding to the feel of a severe-looking brushstroke painting. Which apparently left an impression with the judges.

„And, the jury wanted enough contrast,“ you cuff your shirt on either side. „Was a good idea we went just as dark as your hair. Wouldn’t have worked as well otherwise.“

„It all fits together really well, I think. It’s become a bit, how do you say. One with me.“

Although you wouldn’t blurt that out like a preschooler, you do think so, too. Jungkook stood out among your clients as one of the cutest, with a body that was nothing short of meticulously sculpted. A waist that shocking, you’d never seen it. Even some of the bodybuilders you had tattooed didn’t have this kind of hourglass. Perfect to pick up on some carefully planned artistry, and easy on the eye anyway. However, nothing you’d say to his face.

Yet.

Who knows. You keep your expression neutral enough when he’s around. All day, you paid special attention to maintaining a stern composure in general, given how it was such a hasty crowded event to begin with. Not that competition would always favor the stern, but it sure helped with focus.

„To be honest,“ you put the trophy onto the table now, „The judges don’t splurge their points if it’s some muddy shit. The tiger paws looked pretty washed out from some angles. Your tattoo will fucking pop in any lighting. It has to.“

Bam was as eye-catching as a tattoo as he was in real life. You paid special attention to adding enough solid black. Contrast always needed a certain amount of courage. On your side, and a client’s.

Even now, in the solely artificial lighting of this shabby backroom, the heavy blocks of extra strong ink on his ribs, sternum and stomach create a nice interplay with the shape of his upper body. Unsurprisingly, Jungkook didn’t remember to put his top back on yet. And why would he bother. It’s been piping hot in the valley districts since 9:30 AM. So hot, a couple palm trees on your way to the contest site have been looking crispy.

„That’s one of the best parts,“ he nods, all while toweling down his neck from all the sweat. The stage had burning hot overhead lights and the audience number was breaking the four digits. Stressfully enough, in terms of decibels as well. Jungkook walked offstage with you saying his ears were reeling for a solid minute. It was more than necessary to get away from all the hustle and bustle after the supposed celebration was dispersing.

„Glad you like how it turned out, then. Took a lot of risks here.“

„I, uh. Really gotta thank you though,“ Jungkook proceeds to retie his little wavy ponytail, plucking the crown and baby hairs that went astray on stage back in.

He leaves some side bangs to the front, which is what you once remarked looks the best on him with his current hair length. Little did you know he’d take this so seriously, but you haven’t seen him without a hair tie since.

„You invested so much time,“ he continues. „You couldn’t take so many other clients because of me.“

„Time doesn’t bother me that much,“ you shovel some money bands into the bulky grey rucksack you drag out from underneath your chair, then take out some bottled sparkling water instead. This backpack has been both your lifeline throughout the day. „Those weren’t the easiest sessions, that’s what I mean. But you made it through.“

„Yeah,“ he smiles. You can tell he is a bit flustered by the money.

„The other clients can honestly wait. They know I do competitions from time to time. The regulars, at least.“

A dozen people sure said they missed you. Some newbies at the studio resented you for spending your „efforts and talent on one singular canvas“, but as today’s MC of the show had said: It’s for the greater good of a career to pursue contests, and helps a tattooist to be out there. „It’s an adventure!“ was the cheesy contest tagline. Not to mention that an artist who was good enough… would meet attractive people as a `pleasant byproduct‘ as one of your fellow West Coast contestants had joked backstage.

You had rejected that mentality beforehand. Craft came first. Ironically, it was you who simply searched for the right skin, motif, and proper frame who ended up with someone attractive indeed. Those things always happen if you don’t search for it. And it was an adventure, sort of.

Jungkook didn’t exactly pass out when you moved up to the rib with your tattoo gun, but damn. He was bleeding. In essence, the first appointment turned out to be a three hour groaning session. Since he already had a complete and partially reworked sleeve, it appeared like another tattoo following many. But the second visit was so intense, it had your canvas screaming out loud at some point — albeit he stubbornly refused to take a break. `Keep going… I can handle it.´

You usually did mid-range tattoos as your specialty, but his one was gigantic and painstaking. How he muscled through that psychologically, at his tender age, you’re not sure how. After the session was done, you would hang out eating pizza in the shaded backyard of the studio, listening to pop music and talking about tattoo shows as if nothing had happened.

„You mean, it was demanding?“

„Oh yeah,“ you screw the bottle open. „Demanding is the word. I mean, count the elements. That’s almost 150 sepearate parts to fill out.“

„Right.“

„If you want a tattoo to look like a real ink stroke, you need to consider how the separate hairs of a brush would behave. The color needs to be, sorta— like disconnected. I’ve freestyled a lot of it.“

That’s also a reason why you’re sure the tiger didn’t win, and Jungkook got full points. Which surprised you more than him, something that caught you off guard in a peculiar way, even if you were endlessly happy, of course. That Jungkook was sure that you had winning potential was definitely an emotional pat on the back.

Your New York-based opponent sure did ace the Old School American style. It had some pretty memorable turquoise highlights that made the other competitor’s trendy watercolor freestyles look boring, and his canvas was beautiful. But: In your eyes, the design didn’t have an elaborate sketch behind it, and tried too hard to be East Coast.

To their demise and Jungkook’s gentle content, the judges ruled that your tattoo had 99% razor-sharp edges and a smart construction of the design: „You’ve done your studio justice.“ Because Jungkook looked promising as a canvas and he was kind as a person, you were willing to sacrifice some things to approach that level of hard perfection, even if it was `just an edgy tattoo of a random guy’s pet´ as some of your rivals had criticized you arriving on stage.

It took you three days to draw it all beforehand, and one to make a stencil that could even remotely fit on a body as curved as that. You didn’t wing it. Got creative. Stayed up. Talked a lot. Played around with the dog. Filled in every blank, and calculated every skin break to make actual sense from a distance. Jungkook had an unbreakable patience, too. Making the tattoo a big deal and taking it this far was worth the extra eye-squinting hours.

„It was fine by me. I’ll have this masterpiece for life,“ Jungkook rubs his stomach, almost as if he could caress the motif. He really does genuinely like it.

„You will. Those colors won’t fade anytime soon.“

Three weeks of successful healing time proved the durability of the tattoo and the raw diligence of preparing all this. It all went by in a hurry. The whole competition was a sequence of travel, rehearsing, check-ins, and finding some suitable lotion to oil Jungkook up with since you quickly ran out of what you brought along. He was okay with you touching him like this. Jungkook said, since you had been under his skin, being simply on it was not the slightest inconvenience.

You did over a dozen contests before. You wanted your canvas to be shining bright in front of the discerning jury. Oil would add a gleaming touch to any tattoo, and helping Jungkook apply it was more than gratifying — not just artistically. You gotta drink a big sip on that.

„Amazing,“ he continues looking down on himself, his eyes really telling how exhausting the show was, but how rewarding. The 6’3 guy who got an entire sleeve and snake motif looked like an amateur canvas next to your model. Sure, the micro tats of some other competitors weren’t exactly precise and outstanding either so it had been easy to move to the Top 10, but when a tattoo artist was talking big game, big motif, big color, they better deliver.

„So— what do we fancy for the evening,“ you wave your backpack left and right, letting the cash tumble around. „Bowling? You’d be killin’ it. Buying some clothes? Or maybe we’ll go to an expensive club. You dance on the tables, I watch random people. You know, to judge their bad tats.“

He’s laughing at that. You’re sure you’D just be watching him move at best, he’s a dancer professionally — but anyway.

You continue listing ideas, but Jungkook sort of gapes at all the options without saying anything. He’s from a modest home like you were, the big city overwhelms him, as does the fact that you won 20,000$.

„You know what,“ the bottle wanders back into your rucksack, half empty. „We probably don’t have the energy to just straight up throw some big balls at a couple bowling pins, eh.“

Jungkook laughs again.

„Guess not. Would all just land in the gutter.“

„And shopping, that’s running a marathon. Maybe we can go to the club next week. What if we just sit on my terrace and watch some clouds? Back to the roots. I always do that to get inspiration.“

Jungkook perks up. You already invited him to your house before. It was a quicker, gentler recoloring session on a pretty dull rainy morning. To make sure he was competition ready, you carefully retouched some of his existing tattoos. His oldest, dearest ones. That’s how he got to see the Grey Room. Your art atelier, so to speak. Why grey? Because you don’t smudge — and the chair will prove it. Messy tattooists won’t go far, that was your opinion. Buying a black tattoo chair was an excuse.

„Hm, why not, I mean,“ he stumbles over his words, but you can tell he’s interested.

„Okay,“ you get up from your creaky chair, collecting the rest of your stuff, and he helps you with it. „It’s a done deal. You’ll see more of the house. The food is all prepared. Like, to perfection.“

During his recoloring session, Jungkook had to catch the bus right after, plus another client, Namjoon, came in for a lengthy consultation. It was all about whether you’d be sending Namjoon to an aesthetician for a laser treatment, or try to cover up the botched crooked rose on his pecs with a bigger design to one-up your precursor, this absolute idiot of a ‚line artist specialist‘. Your ass. It’s a crime to soil a person’s skin like that. Namjoon came in completely devastated and in need for help, so Jungkook quickly left. It ended up being the latter option, you tattoed a big fat 3D bonsai tree across the rose.

You only got back to Jungkook two days later, checking how his color was healing through video chat. He had stripped down enough for you to see the progress, and you tried your best to be professional, analyzing the next steps. Which had you excited, he always recovered exceedingly well, but you were both in a busy phase. Yet, you really couldn’t complain about not having him around. This tattoo and contest was a once-in-a-lifetime two-people project. It felt like being an Italian designer, taking your flagship testimonial to fashion week.

„Food?“

„I had Yoongi handle the ice cream maker this morning,“ you put on your shades, ready to go with your backpack filled to the brim. „But don’t tell anyone, lest my house gets robbed again. Banana flavor, by the way.“

Jungkook strangely doesn’t look as happy as you thought he’d be. But then again, not so strangely. Once the needle is inside and the first drop of ink settles in, you can read a canvas’ mind. It’s a connection that cannot be explained.

„Okay,“ is the lukewarm reply. He shoulders his own cross-body bag without really checking it once. Since he forgot his tank top, you hand it to him. It takes a couple seconds to register at all.

„Something not right?“

„It’s just, I wondered,“ he fumbles with the bag’s kinda tucked-in zipper. „You have— a boyfriend? Yoongi?“

„Ah, him,“ you chuckle. „No, Yoongi is my personal chef.“

„Oh, I see, the chef. I just, um.“

Jungkook looks wildly flustered at that realization, trying to find an excuse of looking away by fixing his ponytail, and rubbing his neck. Almost as if he got caught red-handed.

„And assistant. And the one who cleans my pool. And he schedules all my clients unless I do it myself. Yoongi handles everything on demand basically, so I can do this,“ you point at the surrounding hallway after opening the backroom’s lanky door.

A big red banner reading - LOS ANGELES ANNUAL TATTOO AWARDS - stretches well across the wall, and the area seems completely swept of people.

You did spend quite a lot of time talking backstage after you gave an interview for the local press while Jungkook posed for the camera — despite his first time doing this, like a natural.

„Seems like the competition headed home already,“ is your dry comment, but you’re not that surprised. It was too warm to linger in this building complex for any longer than the show lasted. You didn’t even register how stuffy the air was since you got so carried away together, talking. Although you would have loved to talk to some of the attending experienced masters, maybe it had been a good idea to dodge the hype.

„They really did hurry home.“

„That’s what we’ll do as well. Fifty scoops for each of us. Yoongi always makes a generous amount of ice.“

„Wow, it’s really all taken care of then,“ Jungkook finally manages to stuff the tanktop back into his bag, absent-minded. He hasn’t even considered putting it on, then. He’s too busy admiring that you have such a thing as a personal assistant and cook. The two of you tread down the hallway, causing a bit of an echo.

Jungkook looks at ease learning that Yoongi is more of a janitor. You give him the side eye, which he shamefully returns with a nervous laugh.

„I figure you like banana. And walking around like Abercrombie and Fitch.“

You point at the mauve-colored tank top that’s hanging out of his bag, caught by the zipper.

„Oh, oops!“ it finally clicks with a big flinch. He’s really been half-naked all the time, and only now makes an effort to pull the crumpled little piece of clothing back on. „I didn’t notice! I think the tattoo makes me feel dressed, um.“

„Car’s gonna be piping until the A/C runs full throttle,“ you head the way to the motor park, sandals randomly clacking onto the heated concrete. „Next thing you know, you’re gonna chuck your jeans into the Malibu beach waves and don’t even notice.“

„No, no worries. I uh, I’m back to behind the scenes mode,“ Jungkook’s giggling to himself, trying not to make it too obvious that he was quick to react.

„Took you almost half an hour,“ you say through a big grin, getting out your dangly car keys with the miniature plush bunny attached to it. Flashback to last month, Jungkook bought it for you as a thank-you present after he heard you mope about always overlooking your keys.

„Dancer thing,“ he says, sounding wildly apologetic. „I usually don’t wear that much.“

„Talk about getting naked,“ you both settle in the car, a block of heat hitting you in the faces. „You can use my shower to scrape off all that oil. There must be some kind of special cleanser I got, the one with the light green stripe on it.“

„Yeah, it’s gotten so sticky—“ Jungkook turns to check his back. „My shoulder will smudge that oil on the backrest… sorry.“

„I’ll leave the seat cleaning to Yoongi, he likes looking after the car,“ is all you can comment, kick-starting your car. What follows is the deep humming noise that the engine typically emits when the LA heat is extra crazy. „You can turn on the radio over there. It’s kind of a one-hour ride from here. You said you sing pretty well?“

The now switched-on A/C blows his tanktop around the way it wants. Maybe L.A. is cooking today because Jungkook is out here.

Rolling into your garage, you realize you’ve brought home everything: Except the champagne bottle. Fuck it, the heat in the car would have done weird things to the oh-so sparkling content, and putting it in a flash freezer at home would have resulted in a fizzy explosion that would leave Yoongi with some high ceilings to scrub. Treating yourself to some cold juice sounds much better. You have no interest acting out drunk and passed out on the floor in Jungkook’s presence. And in case an impromptu tattoo happens, alcohol is the last thing you want in his blood. The same goes for everything more than just a tattoo.

The metal trophy, which is elegantly shaped like a stencil and lighter than you thought, is more important. After parking, that one goes straight to the Grey Room award wall. You’re chugging the rest of your bottled water in one whole go. Sitting next to him had your eyes averted from the street more often than not, which in and of itself was a bad idea — but who knew a traffic jam could be a nice thing, especially if it took two hours.

Jungkook is busy otherwise. Exhausted from the black seat’s stored warmth, he exits the car moaning out loud at the heat outside. And, from a later-day sun having grilled the right-hand side of his body. Through the car window, all the way. His body is chilled from the A/C, almost freezing down the sweat on his tanktop, at least that’s what it felt like, until you noticed he was shaky and dialed it down. Jungkook is actually a little hoarse from singing his heart out. That will fade in a minute, though, he says.

While he takes that so needed shower, you dig through an absent Yoongi’s clothing rack, built into his assistant wardrobe. Since Yoongi is on the smaller side, there aren’t too many options, but you guess he’ll survive.

Feeling much better now, Jungkook winds up dangling his legs into your garden pool fifteen minutes later. That is, with extremely tight tennis shorts and otherwise nothing on, yet again. The white of the fabric might be opaque, but his thighs are big enough to let either leg ride up. Yoongi can be glad he buys so much stretch material, otherwise, those shorts would be bursting at the seams.

Unlike during the way home from today’s show, the yellow-pinkish color of the sky is finally worthy of a tattoo artist’s eyes looking at it. The white pillars of your terrace frame the outlook effortlessly like a little arcade, and the pool water feels like it has been cooling down significantly around your calves. No smog, no direct sunlight, no skylines. You’d not allow Jungkook to step even one foot in your backyard topless as he is if the sun was still high up. His tattoo had to be carefully preserved.

„I do like banana. Anything banana.“

He licks up a drop of surplus ice cream from the back of his thumb. It’s all melting in record time despite the 9 PM cool approaching. You both have to be quick. Luxury problems — at the expense of your waiting lemonade. Which you told Jungkook to feel free to pour up for the both of you during your own bathroom break some minutes ago. You changed into something even looser, put your base cap on, and the ice was already getting a little too creamy under the poolside evening glow.

„Mmh. Self-made ice cream is a whole ’nother level,“ you twist your cone. Mainly, to take off the melting edge of your scoop with the right corner of your mouth. „Cools the vocal cords, does it.“

„Seriously didn’t sing that much in a while,“ he cracks a smile, and you can tell he missed having free time like this.

„You’re not out of the loop, though. I could have taken you to America’s Got Talent and we still would have won. Hell, the Masked Singer. Dressed as a Green Raccoon. Or a fencing man. Lord knows what. You got a beautiful voice.“

Jungkook almost chokes on his ice cream at the mental image of that.

„I guess I’d rather be dancing,“ he shakes his head, „and walking around at a tat con. I’m really nervous about that one.“

„We can chill, that’s four weeks from now,“ you sip on your lemonade eventually, swallowing an ice cube that has melted down to a peanut-sized chunk. „You’ll get used to your new look by then. And everyone is out there, it’s packed. They all wanna outdo each other. We’ll blend in somewhere. Even if it’s probably not gonna be much cooler and we’ll still look like glazed donuts. We might as well leave the oil at home.“

Which didn’t sound to unrealistic. You’ve had Yoongi book the two of you for a tattoo convention display down at Hacienda Heights. Body Art Expo — one of the biggest events in the area. You could finally showcase your latest craft and meet some of your role models. This year, an influx of famous contemporary Japanese masters was guaranteed.

The overarching theme was announced to be traditional horimono craft. You’ve been dying to set up a little booth and take Jungkook with you to see the best of the best, and also flaunt his own frontal tattoo.

„Yoongi might as well park an ice cream truck for us there,“ he jokes.

„You’ll definitely need ice indeed after I go buckwild and give you a whole beginner’s hand poking treatment.“

„Hand what?“

„Hand poking,“ you laugh. „Tebori artists don’t really use automatic needles with some exceptions. It’s all done manually. You prick the skin by hand. Even the tattoo needle you have make on your own.“

„Like DIY, completely yourself?“

He got you started on one of your favorite topics. Well, well.

„Yes. It’s like a small wooden or metal stick. It has a grouping of needles fastened to it by string.“

„Oh… so that’s why— by hand.“

„Yes. And it doesn’t stop there. A machine has say, nine to 35 needles. My favorite tattoo gun has 22. Japanese traditional can go as far as 42. That’s why outlines are so difficult to do in that technique. And the gradients. Those are fucking hard. Getting a tebori tattoo is expensive with good reason.“

„42 needles!“

„Depends. It actually bleeds less. You feel relaxed after a session. The whole thing is like. Eleven inches long, bit more. The artist has ultimate control over how deep it locks in the coloring fluid.“

„Um, yes,“ is all he can say staring.

„The artist will use a sponge to pick up the ink, and drive the stick in by hand. Hence they call it hand poke. A full-body tattoo can take a year to complete. But the color has the best saturation. The needles are thicker, you can put lots and lots of ink under the skin that way.“

Which is why you’re so interested in it. Six years plus until you’d be able to fully practice that technique on someone. It’s your goal for your later career. To have your own tattoo family, apprentices, and letting the art live on through your canvases.

Maybe settling in Japan itself to learn from the best, or remaining overseas. As long as you’d be able to hand poke a clean line like a true master and sketch properly, artfully, just as the craft demanded. Time and place wouldn’t matter.

„You said that Japanese tattoos work with woodblocks, right?“

„It’s inspired by woodblock carving art,“ you nod, pulling out your phone. Plenty of pictures to show him, over 600, if not more. You shade the display with one hand and sit closer to Jungkook, swiping through the gallery.

„The actual design is painted with soot ink beforehand,“ you keep on explaining. „Like, a phoenix. A river, with flora. Some scenes of a kabuki theatre play. Or a goddess figure, that’s pretty common.“

Jungkook does look as hooked as you are. And— as a side note: He smells damn good from the cleanser you gave him. That shower must have been thorough. You sort of don’t smell it anymore when you use it, but when it mixes with his scent, that’s a whole different thing.

„That’s so cool… Would you do that on me?“

„Jungkook,“ you raise your brows at him. „That technique takes years to learn. With a mentor— And endless copying practice of their grand pieces.“

„You even need a teacher and copy what they do? That’s crazy.“

„When we go to the fair, I might get my hands on a bamboo needle to see how it’s like to hold. But I’ll probably just stand there and watch in awe just like you.“

„Wow. We’ll really be able to see a lot there.“

Jungkook’s posture appears significantly less tensed-up now, and you know you took his nervousness about the convention by directing his mind to a new idea. That he asked you to give him a traditional-style tattoo by hand without even hesitating has left an impression, but you try not to let your face show your respect. Most canvasses would be skeptical, frightened, or completely dismissive of the technique. Jungkook is nothing short of sexy, it’s literally right next to you — but it’s his open mind that makes him interesting.

„I know, right. But you still might be lucky getting a Japanese tat from me.“

„Really?“

He almost jolts up, which makes his left thigh rub against you by accident.

„Okay, I can’t just walk up and hand carve an entire body suit into your skin. Right. But you can actually do parts of horimono with, you know, automatic needles and stuff. Many traditional studios do outlines by machine these days, and only the coloring or shades by hand.“

„They do it both?“

„Pretty much. Hybrid tebori. The art of doing precise lines by stick is recently dying out. If we use the gun instead, for everything? You can still get a goddess tattoo like an original motif. It does take practice and immense research. But it’s doable with modern machines and an excellent design.“

If you think about it, Jungkook might just be the perfect canvas to dive deeper into Japanese tattooing, even more so than you already did. Not being able to do it the manual way would irk you, but you can work with what you have.

„Any suggestions where?“ he looks across his body, traces his hands, deliberating. „I mean, it could go anywhere for me. But, I mean you should choose where it fits the best.“

You do know a perfect spot, in fact.

The slimness of his hip makes it so that an ascending motif would widen up perfectly on the shoulder area. On the other hand, the extreme curve of his spine could easily warp the design when looked at from afar, so that had to be carefully considered. It’s all a matter of adaptation. You can already see details of this next project form before your inner eye, still.

„Your back is completely virginal, so. What about that.“

„Right, of course!“

„And that’s where you find a traditional placement anyway.“

Some proper skin breaks between the shoulder blades, maybe some more grey towards the waist level, putting in more contrast across the shoulders and neck… it all starts to form in your head. Fuck, Jungkook’s neck is actually your dream target area. Front and back. The underside of his jaw as well. Peak difficulty.

A pet peeve for many of your colleagues in the field because the skin is so delicate and hard to put a design on. Many people just say fuck this shit and freehand it completely. But to you: Sweetest spot you can think of. If he’s good to go, you’ll ink him with his neck hung from the edge of your tattoo furniture one day with an extra anesthetic. Maybe some kind of animal or interlocking pattern. It’s gonna look fucking awesome.

„Would you like, actually sketch something for me?“

„Sure. Or we’ll work together with a master who will design something with ink on paper to suit your body perfectly. We still need an entry piece for next year’s tat awards.“

„But I only want your stencil,“ he finishes biting off the lower half of his ice cream cone, looking pretty disgruntled at the idea of someone else being in charge of his back. You would rather consider an expert, but you can see his point. Everything on his body should look coherent, as in one singular handwriting. And you heard it. He only wants your stencil or nothing at all.

Of course the back has to match the abs and the pecs. Only a consistent style would ensure that Jungkook’s tattoos would come together as an aesthetic whole that carried your signature, which was not just something a show jury would appreciate. It was a just because thing.

„Fine by me, it’ll just take longer. And we do color.“

Which means, more time spent in the Grey Room, where you would keep all of your treasures. The inner city studio you share with your colleague, Taehyung, who was more of a Neo Traditional and portrait enthusiast. He also did blackwork just like you. That meant the present ink supply was either batshit crazy colors and dark shades only. Hence, you set up your own extra coloring studio at home to specialize.

„Love the idea!“

„So it’s a done deal, huh. We’ll do the project in the Grey Room by then, I’m thinking.“

It needs a different atmosphere and lighting to really get the most out of the hues. And: You created this area to make a canvas open up and relax. With your technique and shading style, coloring in the big areas was always a real pain in the ass for anyone with skin that wasn’t super thick.

Taehyung’s philosophy was always to ‚paint‘ his clients in a suave and fleeting way, whereas your approach was always go hard or go home. Jungkook could handle it, and his skin was rewarding to work on when it came to recovery. You can tell he’s more than excited.

„Really, thank you for this…“

„If a couple months work sounds like fun to you, we’re gonna walk up with another 20,000€ price money next year.“

You are starting to enjoy this idea of Jungkook being a tattoo muse, sort of like the faux Greek statues and busts that you had Yoongi put up around the garden when you moved in here. A lot of tattoo artists you were friends with were inspired by the renaissance, and you could see the appeal. That Jungkook was a walking Greek aesthetic with his curls and decadent body really does fit well into your home, now that you think about it.

„I have no problem hanging out here at all,“ he’s munching, tongue in cheek. „Your house is amazing. I bring along some groceries and such when you’re too busy. If, if you want.“

„Really?“

„Long as you can sketch in peace. I like doing laundry and those things.“

„Yoongi will appreciate it. More time for cooking his latest creations. You’re already renting out his clothing, we can cut him some slack there, huh. Doing a full landscape and figure will take us twice as long as with your ribs.“

And those were already insane to do. The skin was behaving almost like paper in some bits. Only the fact that he works out decently enough has probably saved Jungkook from losing his mind then and there. His back is going to be much easier to tattoo.

„A background landscape as well? “ he drops his jaw. „This is genius… Maybe we should do it later this year, September or so.“

„Good call,“ you blink. „Gonna be a bit colder. And you’re gonna be a birthday boy. A tat’s always a nice gift to yourself.“

The reality is: Most tattoo artists would kill to secure a canvas that was so patient. It was a biased view, but Jungkook would not just be a wanted man in his dating pool (which he already is, he’s told you about a lot of concerning things in his DMs) if he graced the cover of `Inked´ magazine.

The whole ink world would come running. You already brace yourself for the storm of showing him off at Body Art Expo. He would be noticed. Today’s experience showed his potential. People found him likable and sweet, and the muscles got them going. You worried if Jungkook would have to be protected from too much attention in the community. It wouldn’t be long until you wouldn’t be alone in a cool-down room. Today’s show wasn’t the busiest, but an Expo would be. People would absolutely bother him. Rather than asking you about your tattoo journey, or anything else constructive and useful.

„I’m really getting a back tattoo,“ Jungkook is buzzing with energy, splashing around water with his feet. His voice is just fine by now, only a hint of raspy at best. The energy low of the backstage room is pretty much forgotten.

„I’ll sit myself down with some books and I’ll get back to you next month with a first rough draft, yeah?“

„Can’t wait!“

„And after that,“ you shoot him a warning gaze more jokingly, „I’m sketching for your legs, too. Maybe with a realistic thigh tattoo. Or with some big red highlights and otherwise black only.“

„Woah! Red and black?!“

„Anything’s possible. Though, you know. Only if you want to, of course. I’m just brainstorming.“

But those thighs basically scream for ink, oh my god. You can’t even hold yourself back. Was he actually okay with that? By the looks of it, Jungkook didn’t have a single problem with you planning out his whole body’s new design.

„I have nothing against being a BLACKWORKS gallery,“ pats his thighs the most innocent way you could imagine. „I know I’m in good hands.“

BLACKWORKS was the name of your tattoo parlor, carrying with it the color you had specialized in. Ironically, setting up the Grey Room was the exact opposite, making a space to dabble in color. It was sort of the bane of your existence. One or the other, both, or alternatingly? Your sentiment changed with every larger project or every other client.

„Well, thank you. Any further questions?“

„I um… I don’t want to sound rude, but.“

„You don’t sound like it’s anything offensive, though,“ you lower your shades to squint at him.

„What are you like planning,“ he kneads his palms against each other, „I mean, with the prize money? I was, you know, just, uh curious. You always create cool projects and stuff, that’s why.“

„Oh that? We need that money for all the fucking ink you’ll be wearing!“

„Help!“ he squeals out, just as joking now.

„Seriously though. You’re gonna be my most expensive canvas. Taehyung spent a fortune finding the right pigment for all the True Black that went here,“ you point at his chest. „Only the highest quality Acrylic components in there. No metals, no allergens. No nothing.“

„Is it organic? That’s so Los Angeles,“ Jungkook giggles into his hand, trying not to make some organic this, organic that joke most probably.

„Better than having that shit in your lymph system. We don’t want that.“

„Thanks, you’re looking out for me.“

No toxins for your canvasses. And nothing you don’t know the effects of. More clients gotta get some education about this.

„Just duty. And LA sucks, I don’t care. Cheers.“

For the last sip of lemonade, you toast, and Jungkook reiterates that he’s feeling very much in safe hands — especially now that you offered him a sofa place to sleep on.

It’s really too late to drive him home. The highway ride would take ages, the traffic is even more terrible at this hour. Returning at like 2 or 3 AM would set you up for a lackluster sleep routine. He’s living alone in his flat so there’s nobody to inform, he’s not urgently missed and needed for something. That there’s no one waiting for him always surprises you.

That Jungkook is his own best roommate and doesn’t cohabit with his parents, all in a decently well-off part of the city on top of that — not the most flashy one, cozier, but still — tells you that he must dance pretty damn well and knows how to live life. He probably thinks the same about you anyway, although he keeps on saying you work too much for your own good, which might have a grain of truth.

You do wish you lived a bit like him. Then again, you’re well aware he has a hard time sometimes. Going by pictures he showed you, the flat he has isn’t a bad one at all. You don’t charge him for the tattoos, obviously. They’re competitive entries based on your decisions, not commissioned pieces. He offered pay, but you rejected the eight hundred bucks.

On a day where he let his guard down after three hours of conversation, Jungkook told you he’s selling his pics and videos between otherwise casual sentences. That was about two month ago. He didn’t say what pics and what videos, but you were beginning to connect the dots.

All the signs, they were there. The way he undressed, the way he was aware of how he came across, the way he was so photogenic. You worked extra hard on getting the clarity of the tattoo right. It’s one thing to look at black ink pigments in daylight or below the artificial lighting of a studio, but on camera, it’s absolutely a different thing.

Why he opened up to you, you don’t know. It was inconsequential. He didn’t mention it again, and it didn’t look like he was observing your reaction to it.

There was no telling what his shy tone of voice was supposed to say, or his intent, and you guess it all had many meanings at once. Maybe he just said it to say it. To get something off his chest. Jungkook often hesitated to vent, but he was honest telling you that. If anything — he trusted you enough to do so.

„I’ll just give you one of these at this point,“ you weed through your closet, pulling drawers, checking metal hangers. Eventually, Jungkook catches a white sporty tee that you’re tossing him, and lays down on the white king-size couch in the center of the living room. 11 PM. Sunday tomorrow. None of you caught a heat stroke. You’re both not that tired yet. There might as well be something left to do. So… Well.

„Have a good night’s sleep then,“ Jungkook smiles, already half settled— about to put on the shirt. You gotta stop him in this tracks somehow before he’s dressed again.

„Maybe it’s still time for a little treat,“ you say, wiggling your eyebrows at him, which he reciprocates with unbridled surprise.

„Did Yoongi put some other desert in the fridge, or—“

You shake your head.

„No, no. Something else. Actually, way else. Wait here, Jungkook.“

„O.k.?“

„Heading back in just a minute,“ you turn your head across your shoulder. „Look at my drawings on the wall or something.“

He does, gazing around the spacious room that is actually pretty bright and light at this hour. The team that did the electrics in here were absolute top tier in their field, although the house did not pass as 100% interior art. Rather, the tall walls were clad in big unfinished pen sketches and other blackwork ideas behind frames, mostly showing anatomical poses and various animals from all around the globe. Looking up, Jungkook got lost in a painting that showed a distorted self-portrait of you while drawing something on a table. Art of the artist doing art.

„You need to get yourself some of this,“ you interrupt, posturing yourself in the doorframe upon returning. Jungkook’s head twists in record time. His confusion is more than visible all across his face reacting to what you’re holding up with your right hand.

„Is that… Is that— Lubricant!“

Someone looks pretty damn flustered right now and it’s not you.

„Oh my god Jungkook,“ you shuffle closer to the sofa, thoroughly amused. „Actually read what’s on this tube. Here.“

You hand the mysterious black item to a very panicked mess of a weekend guest.

„Aftercare cream?!“

„Read on.“

„…for protecting tattoos.“

He just looks mighty exasperated now. Oh Jesus.

„Come on. It’s not some kind of after-bondage ointment,“ you laugh. „Just plain ole tattoo balm, okay. Nothing BDSM going on here.“

„Yeah… Yeah.“

„The whole thing’s pretty much a vibrancy serum, healing cream, moisturizing lotion, et cetera. All in one. That is considered a treat in my book. Treat as in skin treatment.“

„I uh, should have figured.“

Jungkook’s knee-jerk reaction has him crouching together in a gullible pose on the sofa, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. Broke a sweat for a minute there, did he.

„Your tattoo had a lot of stuff going on today. Oil and sun and sweat and chlorine, too. We’re not gonna let it rest unprotected tonight. There’s some regeneration it has to do.“

As per the contest rules, tattoos need to be fully healed to enter anyway, so today he’s not been freshly inked under the UV rays outside. But it’s still better to apply cream to support the tattoo as it is. And exposing Jungkook’s dirty mind for the sheer fun of it.

„Am a bit of a dummy,“ he hands the lotion back to you.

„The clean air around here has you wearing tennis shorts… and your mind in the gutter, does it,“ you snap the tube open, squeezing a generous double dime-size amount into your palm. It’s not like you didn’t check him out all day. Two minds in the gutter? That’s twice the fun.

„Sorry.“

„Don’t be. Now let me work it in, I’ll do that for you. The shirt needs to wait for another minute again. Fine by you?“

„Okay!“

„Then relax. It needs to be spread out properly.“

Running your hands across one’s favorite canvas should be considered a therapeutic method for any tattoo artist out there. You need to listen to a lot of shit, discuss a lot of shit, compete against a lot of shit, and draw a lot of even more shitty shit. It’s only fair you get to enjoy the silver lining as well. Savoring what you all do it for: Enjoying the aesthetic and the feel of the skin.

Jungkook is as pliant as ever accepting the treatment, and the balm does what it’s supposed to do. Seeping in, refreshing the skin, cooling it off. You knead his body in broad strokes of your palms, making sure the coverage is even. The tattoo again proves its bold winning ways shining bright even under the low ceiling lamp, and you again congratulate each other. No scabs at all, and the whole jury convinced. You beat a tiger, the watercolor dudes, tiny tat mania, Leonardo DiCaprio, and the tall snake bloke. The result was a memorable rendition of a pet dog that your client could not get enough of. What more could you really ask for.

Jungkook visibly hums under your touch and seems to react with cozy noises having his sides massaged. You’re careful with the ribs, his sensitive area. You’re totally not lingering on the pecs for a little longer. Your mind revolves around the thought of sitting down on his thighs to unpack the real treat and finally ride out your craving.

„What if we,“ you start, „You know. Actually use some lubricant. Here on this sofa.“

„Huh—? Really? In a way that…“

Jungkook awakes from his half-slumber that your hands had so calmly induced. In fact, he goes from sleeping beauty to wide alert in two seconds, propping himself up from the sofa cushions. To meet you face to face — he’s incredulous. Well, you aren’t exactly feeling coherent either, which surprises you, too.

„Sure! I mean. If you want to. There’s some of it in the other room that I can fetch. I figured we might. Just for fun, and… We know each other for a while now. To me it would be nice. Nothing fancy, just. We just do our thing if we like it. I’m still your tattooist. I wished we could sleep with each other at some point. I didn’t say anything because we had to focus on competing. Sorry for that.“

„Please, please don’t.“

„I preferred to make it about work until we sat at the pool today. If we’re fucking… It should be a comfortable moment where we really got to know each other already. You were pretty shy. So I was careful, right, although I’ve been teasing you anyway, I don’t know what you thought about that, if that was funny or not. But you know, the heat of the moment.“

„Don’t worry, I liked it.“

„I also didn’t want to make it look like I was trying to get in your videos for money or just because you do them, or mess with your personal business. I know this is a separate thing. So I was more, uh, asking casually. With the conventions and our projects, I want nothing to change there.“

„No, of course.“

„If we make this a big deal, I thought it would be risky. When I ask you this, there’s always the chance that it gets weird, people are being particular and act different when getting intimate like that, no matter if the night is good or bad or boring. But to me, I thought, after all our sessions being the way they were we had a body feeling for each other that was more progressed than just having sex. And I was curious how it would be naked, how we’d be catching up. Because you’re really hot to me… I really want to be on top of you. I waited so long to say this. God, fuck, Jungkook.“

„Yes.“

„Hm?“

„Yes, I want to. I’ve… been thinking about it as well.“

It’s a bashful confession that comes with a lot of baggage off his shoulders, you can tell. This all has been simmering underneath the surface. At least you managed to spill it all out yourself. Drawing a 3D face was infinitely easier, tattooing an inner fucking lip was easier. But now he was in the know, if he wasn’t before.

„Makes two of us,“ you twirl at his curly bangs with one digit finger. „Should I get it? And some other stuff. So we’re safe.“

„I, I have some protection in my bag,“ Jungkook goes on stumbling over his words, clearly not prepared for you touching his hair so playfully. „Just a minute. It’s upstairs. In the shower.“

Standing up, you both separate ways with telling, loaded glances. Jungkook couldn’t climb the stairs any faster, his expression is so sheepish. You really fucking did it. You asked and he said yes. Damn, hell yeah.

Walking into your dark bedroom, you pick up a non-fragrant wet wipe to clean your hands from any tat cream residue, although you’ve really worked it into him. Every last corner of his torso. The sleeve as well.

You constantly taught him how to take care of his arm and the other tattoos, but this was a new one. Jungkook will keep the healing cream, you’ll gift it to him. It’s high-priced stuff, but why’d you care. Your home tresor now holds a whopping 20,000$ in cash, and you can topple into your bed happy and content after knowing you own the L.A. tattoo scene as of today.

Jeon Jungkook, he was truly a standout client. Picking up the bottle of lube from underneath your bed, you couldn’t believe you just make the step to breach the professional, invisible wall of being artist and canvas. The excitement gave you a nice gut feeling that was similar to walking up at the show’s venue this morning. You’d have him on the couch, you’d get some fucking dick tonight, no sketching, no planning, no phone calls, no nothing.

You bring a large towel that Jungkook puts under his back and legs, protecting the sofa. Two water bottles, too, there he goes. Although you don’t want this to be the most sweaty exercise of all time, you both have to stay hydrated. After such a stuffy long day, anyhow.

He looks hot chugging it down up to the half-a-litre mark, and you drink from your own bottle with one hand pulling down your pants to the knees. He helps you remove them across your ankles, and he leaves two little kisses on your lower shins. It’s the first time feeling his lips are on you, and it’s a peck just as unique as you thought it would be.

When you hook your index fingers at the top of his shorts, you notice that Jungkook already fitted a blue condom inside his pants.

He didn’t want to do it in front of you and make it awkward, or expect you to touch him just for practicality first rather than touching him for sensuality first. Obviously it could be hot rolling it down on a guy, feeling up what would be inside of you, the whole girth. But safe to say he knew what he was doing. Jungkook didn’t want to compromise you. With all your thoughts that you had, that was a subtle act of reassuring.

Since you brought along the lubricant, you could still get to enjoy having your hand wrapped around him, spreading the heavy liquid rather liberally, feeling it melt around him. You wiped your hand on the towel and climbed up to his lap while Jungkook was kicking off his pants with a hip-to-knee coordination that you haven’t seen yet.

It dawns on you. How could you forget what he usually does. He wasn’t just a dancer by profession, but at heart. Those things were hard to suppress or not do. Just like you couldn’t look at Jungkook without feeling inspired to create tattoos. Which, and you couldn’t lie to yourself, his bare skin was desperately begging for, it was so inviting. You already saw him more than scantily clad, but with his shorts down, his waist and hip showed themselves in their best light. You loved his body shape.

And damn, it felt so good to finally be naked in that summer evening heat, feeling the A/C lightly tickle up your spine and neck from behind. It cooled down your back just right, and you chucked away your underwear for it not to lay around on the sofa. Although the lube was more than enough to go by, you gathered some saliva in your mouth to spit on his dick. It made him twitch and moan, „Yes please.“

There was no need for any aperitif, you weren’t in the mood to go through any foreplay. Jungkook looked delicious enough to have you on edge, and the lubricant would do the rest to make him gliding inside even smoother. You squatted over him and aligned yourself, got comfortable in stabilizing your legs this way.

Jungkook closed his eyes and only looked when the tip was way in, approaching the mid-length of his cock squeezing inside of you. Of course you were still a little tight, but some positioning would change the angle for the better. Jungkook asked if he could use his hands and got green lights from you. Judging by how they were slightly dry on your skin and the scent they had, Jungkook soaped them down when he was picking up his cross-body bag from the bathroom some minutes ago. Everything by the book.

One on your hip, the other playing with your clit, you began to realize just how good he was with his beautiful fingers. It wasn’t just you having the manual skills in this relationship. He was remarkably cautious and had concentrated eyes. So far, you enjoyed that Jungkook was more observing rather than staring, and had such a nice ring to his moaning voice as if he was a singer.

From your perspective, seeing his tattoed fingers curl between your labia and his tight chest muscles moving right along made you crave more cock inside. It slid in almost naturally with the stimulation that came from his fingertips. Jungkook’s voice went right along with it, describing in sounds rather than words what the situation was like.

„That’s really good, stay in that spot,“ you told him, and added a slight up and down to your movement on his dick. Only a slight drag on his shaft made it harder to push him inside further, but that was likely because he had been growing in size a little more.

Learning how to tattoo meant studying some architecture as well to be able to pull it off, and in your case, you soaked up all historic Greek building styles there everywhere. If you were to describe Jungkook as a column, it would be Doric. Full in the middle, definitely not Corinthian in length, actually more Roman Tuscan which was full and convex with a slender, triangular tip that extended toward a nice curving girth the further down you went to the middle.

„So pretty. Your dick feels good.“

„I really hoped you’d like it.“

Meanwhile, he had less circumference at the base. Which you found pleasing to the eye, and pleasing when you sunk down on him fully. That meant squeezing down some lube which would squirt on his balls and made your labia extra slick and juicy, stretching on the sides of his shaft like soaked little lips.

A bit would splatter to the side and smear across the lower side of your ass. It pulled threads when you were reaching the lowest point of your bounce, which alerted Jungkook’s usually waist-bound hand. He had noticed that you felt discomfort with it and wiped it flat to the side in one go.

To your surprise, he gently licked across the sides of his fingers to clean it up. Jungkook licking his tattoos had to be something you didn’t know you needed and one of the top five things happening today. The innocence but quick efficiency with which he did it, priceless. He didn’t stick out his tongue that much, just a decent fourth of it. His calm and naughtiness spoke of low performance anxiety, which you attributed to him being camera-savvy, doing his solo videos.

Still, going balls deep had Jungkook whimpering through his teeth with his eyes closed again, an immense tension spread across his face. Even his left hand on your clit briefly stopped. He had to accommodate to being inside, so you wouldn’t go on moving until his features would relax a little more and he sighed out. It was all fully in the moment and you loved to continue moving up once he was okay again.

Jungkook and you were comfortable with one position for now. In your head, you have a thousand things just like a full-body tattoo would look like, but in reality, you can only ink one thing at a time. Perfecting his little quickie would pay off much more than bending each other around. He had been hectic enough going up the stairs, he had been nervous and confused all day. You had so many ups and downs of adrenaline yourself. This had to be deliberate.

Although you told him he didn’t have to if he couldn’t do it, you found yourself asking Jungkook to give you some understated hip work. Just to begin meeting you halfway, to press his balls against you softly, to create some more lewd noises — and to see his whole body go like clockwork so you would see his tattoos dance above his muscles.

Since he observed you well, Jungkook amped up the stimulation enough for you to feel your pleasure starting to build up fast like a coil waiting to be undone, at its very peak of feel-good. The thought of having a climax right on his dick was spurring you to move, chasing the high and needing the smack of your ass against the jerk of his desperate thighs.

„Keep going… I can handle it!“

Jungkook sounded like he was about to cry, which told you he must have cum inside the condom. Hell, he was moaning so passionately, it could have been at any point in time. Going by his usual policy, he didn’t want to put pressure on you or mess up your own timing. He left you to do your own thing, just like you said you wanted. Lord knows he might have popped a pill in the bathroom to keep his dick up for long enough.

All you knew was, the suction created by you riding him very roughly at a high pace kept him erect, leaving you space to cum on his sloppy dick before Jungkook would enter a post-sex delirium. It was sudden and left you clenching up, heart rate thumping and a huge wave of release making the round through your torso. You squeezed him tight, he reacted by slowing his waist down. That way, you could savor the orgasm without disturbance, and leave your eyes shut for a moment. Jungkook helped you go from squatting on the heels of your feet to the knees, coming much closer to him now and leaving him buried deep.

„Fuck, so good!“ you plant your hands on either of his shoulders, cooling down. The A/C continues to release a calm stream of air into the room, which is deeply needed. You can’t believe it’s already happened. Or, how fast it could happen once you asked this way. He gave himself away freely without expectations, Jungkook went along like a champ.

You stay seated this way for a long time. Relaxing. Up until you both have normal breaths, up until your sleep hormones are kicking in. You glide off his dick with Jungkook’s help, him kissing the inside of your thigh while you lift it across his face.

Jungkook insists to stay on the couch, he doesn’t want to move or just come along to the bedroom he’s never been in out of nowhere. He mumbles that he’ll somehow get himself to the bathroom in ten minutes, it’s okay, he doesn’t want aftercare just more to drink. And a little snack from the fridge, maybe.

He cleans you up with love and care, then discards the more than ruined condom that had to endure being soaked from either side, outside, inside. It didn’t rip, but it looks as mushy as it gets. You really fucked the shit out of him. Everything wet and full of lube. Although it looked messy, it didn’t feel like it. Jungkook was effortlessly good in bed and immediately grasped what you wanted. The fully wet condom was a mere testament.

Seeing just how drenched and mixed up everything was, though, Jungkook points to his bag, you pull out a flat paper box.

„Yeah, just to be sure,“ you nod and pop the contents on your tongue, downing the little pill with a bunch of water. Jungkook probably made the cutest babies ever, but your whole stomach was your former first teacher Boa freestyling the absolute madness of an impeccably scaled dragon in every available color that was your lucky charm, so that wasn’t happening.

Where stretch marks would mean a ruptured masterpiece, a whole C-section would give you a thousand years of bad luck for chopping off the dragon’s feet. It would be an aesthetic crime for someone aspiring to perfection, and you wouldn’t want to draw the wrath of Boa for the sake of a kid you had zero time for to begin with.

Come to think of it. Your conservative neighborhood would probably call the cops if they learned about how the eccentric tattoo artist raving about ‚hand poking‘ and homoerotic Greek culture all day had a lovechild with the Doberman chest guy whose main source of income was shaking his ass into a camera.

So — Jungkook himself was more than just prepared. Even if he didn’t look nor act like it, he had his sex life together. Hacks, contraception, technique, hitting perfect pitch on his moans, everything. This guy was a professional in a way that you would tattoo abstract art. You admit to yourself that you tasted blood despite 85% of California men not doing it for you, and that included the majority of model canvasses. Jungkook had something completely unoffensive and pleasing about him. Something intricately submissive that was worth exploring.

Even if he came too early, he didn’t complain about it or give himself a hard time, or get in your way with it. If anything, it let you know that Jungkook liked what you did. You felt complimented that he reached his climax so easily with you, though you have to ask why he wanted to remain in the living room when your bed was much less improvised than the couch.

„Not making it a big deal,“ he says, smiling a little at you. „Nothing much changes. You’re my tattooist.“

And he’s right. He would have slept here if you didn’t fuck. The couch is big and comfortable, anyway.

While you get dressed in the bedroom, you hear him sneak upstairs. Using the tap, and you hear the clothing dryer being switched off.

You’re already tucked in when a little „thank you for todays session 🐰“ text lights up on your phone screen, followed by „and congratulations 🎊“. You reply with a „right back at you“ and call it a day, recounting today’s events in your head with an excited feeling. Good one. You even forgot you actually had a phone. Today felt like the longest 24 hours of this year.

Jungkook gets comfortable with a cold drink on the living room table next to him. Even if he’s not getting the hang of this house yet, that’ll do. He’s closing his eyes at some point. Everything that’s happened feels like it’s locked into his body. Big show, big lights, photoshoots, karaoke, brainstorming for the future. The two of you need some well-deserved rest tonight. He’s not going anywhere, and you’re not going anywhere.

The heat of the summer nights in this part of the town is reliably stable. Still, you left him the shirt in case he still needs it. Yoongi will take care of breakfast before either of you wake up tomorrow, and the kitchen will be clean as day. A nice thought to hold onto, as well as the confetti raining down on stage. And that fact that you just hooked up.

„Rise and shine my queen,“ resounds the upbeat voice of Yoongi. You always twist around under the duvet for a solid minute, then realize every time that it’s just your phone alarm sounding off like that. On a grumpy day, you once told Yoongi to record something that will get you out of bed, and this was the result. By the time you’re waking up, though, your house is all prepared. Yoongi took off for errands already.

After handing Jungkook an illustrative traditional tattoo book from your little house library to get a feel for possible designs, you sit down together. At the kitchen counter-turned-bar-turned-breakfast-table, Jungkook is fresh out the shower in a bathing gown he found nearby. Again — a garment way too short for someone with tempting legs like that.

On him, it’s basically a mini wrap dress. Not to mention the cleavage, where his tattoo is boldly peeking. Crisp edges, deep color, the black consistent. Not to brag, but you want to pat yourself on the shoulder for that job. It looks just as scrumptious as the little buffet that awaits the two of you.

„How’d Yoongi react to the tennis pants on you?“

„No idea,“ Jungkook ruffles his hair, damp and strongly curling. „Probably didn’t even register that it was his clothing at first. I was sleeping anyway when he arrived.“

„Right, he comes in around 5:50,“ you pick up a brimming sandwich, stacked with lettuce, bell pepper, and extra-layered vegan cheese. „You just saw him leave or so, right.“

„We said hi for like ten minutes when I woke up,“ Jungkook gets busy putting cherry jam on a croissant, „and he congratulated us.“

„I sent him a link to the interview we did after the competition.“

Your group chat is just a cat picture, event info, and meme dump at this point, this was one of the more serious entries. You know Yoongi for too long.

„Then I asked if he also got tattoos from you,“ he stirs his tea, and a little smile rises. Of course he had to ask that. Yoongi was plastered in freestyle 3D tattoos and song lyrics. „Then he told the story about how he started working here. So that was hilarious.“

„Abbreviated, though.“

„Abbreviated?“

“Yoongi never tells the full version where he freeloaded getting a portrait of Holly on his underarm. He didn’t have the cash, but we were college friends. I almost fell for the trick when he wanted a matching one for his girlfriend. As an exchange, he was cooking here for a week. I ended up hiring him, he’s really good at those things.“

„I was still so tired, I think I didn’t quite pay attention to the story anyway,“ Jungkook laughs. „After he showed me his knuckle designs up close, I was thinking about how I got my own.“

„Hand tats are different gravy,“ you fill up an empty glass with extra orange juice, one eye still in Jungkook’s cleavage. „Probably ’cause you see ’em all day.“

You think he does notice your gaze tracing his body. But you never know when Jungkook is terribly shy or ready to flirt the house down when he does that one wide-eyed expression.

„And then Yoongi said, I should just put on his stretchy sweatpants from the lowest drawer? I didn’t really know where that was.“

„Oh right, he doesn’t use that drawer anymore. That chapter is closed.“

„Anymore?“

„Yoongi stopped playing golf. He had his shoulder messed up in an accident.“

„Oh no…“

„Five years ago, I think. He got hit by a delivery car a mile up the lane. Never fully recovered.“

„Ouch…“

„So all that golf stuff is unused. Might as well steal a polo shirt and socks from there as well. Down the hallway, last door to the left. I make sure nobody eats your croissant in the meantime.“

He’s giggling. Golf clothes, it is. The morning is significantly cooler, you can feel it in your bones. A welcome refresher.

„Sucks. Sorry about Yoongi’s injury,“ Jungkook gets up, which loosens his belt a little too much. The bathroom gown really is falling apart left and right. You can see his thigh exposed, all the way up to the right hip. Your dear guest tries to hold everything in place shamefully with two hands, then pulls the belt now twice as tight. „Down the hallway, last door, left, correct…?“

„Yup.“

Off he goes with bouncing hair. You browse through the tattoo book while obliterating your sandwich, shifting your brain back into business mode. Shit, why’d he pick that short fucking gown instead of a regular damn towel.

In the assorted picture part of the later chapters, you find some beautiful ornaments that would literally, and you can tell right away, work so well as a frame for his back tat. Some almost naturalistic shapes, and either clouds or wind on top. Maybe even both, most deity figures in the book had several elements surrounding them. A playground for anyone who knows what they’re doing. The sketch was going to be fun to make, and interesting once it came to application.

You already put in an extra hour for Namjoon’s bonsai cover-up. Jungkook’s September appointment would be twice as intricate and dynamic. Because of the sheer overwhelming size, anyway, and Jungkook’s body shape presenting the challenge of tweaking the design’s perspective. Now that you’ve seen him stripped down all the way — maybe you do have a better understanding of him even more so.

You shiver at the thought of an unskilled tattoo artist ruining a beautiful physique like that, especially across such a large area. Thank God Taehyung sent him to you after realizing that ‚suave and fleeting‘ was clearly not what Jungkook was looking and suited for. JK’s first tattoo had been a simple refresh of some letterings on his sleeve, and the heart on his hand. A month later, he was ringing you up again.

„I think you’re the one. I have a shoulder bit that needs a touch-up. And maybe… you have an idea for the right underarm.“

What surprised you, Jungkook has never been the one choosing the tattoos. He quite liberally had you picking it all— and even without his request, you’ve now been coming up with motives to add on.

Laid-back as he is, „you do you, all access“ is all he thinks about that. Jungkook does an impromptu trust fall into your tattooing chair every time. To be honest, you could never. Boa was the only one you’d confide in like that because she knew what your taste was like and had the best technique you knew. When she told you that she’ll be moving to San Francisco and you were ready to open up your own parlor, that your 5-year education was complete, you cried, it was the best and worst day of your life. Maybe, she’ll be hosting at the next convention.

The road to San Francisco was a 6-hour drive, you do see her every other month at least. Hanging out at her own gigantic studio was one of the best things to do on the weekends. But it sometimes feels like she’s missing in presence and advice, still. Hell, you text Boa almost every day. You like all her Instagram posts, she sends you almost every larger tattoo or notable smaller ones she did on clients, so you could study the way she did it.

Just when you ended a session contouring Bam’s ears and eyes and paws, Jungkook once met your former mentor when she dropped by on a Friday evening at BLACKWORKS. Boa was depositing some ink and needles that she didn’t need, and she said well, maybe you could those try out if they work for you. However, she refused to give you any counsel. Boa insisted you had to figure out Jungkook for yourself and own up to that. Knowing her, Boa was always 90% right about the things she said.

So, all else aside, she would be the only person you’d allow making a surprise design on you. But anyone else? You’d tell your tattooist when and how and why to fucking move the needle one split inch to the left and to the right, even if they were tattooing your back and you couldn’t see a thing. In your deepest sleep, you could feel and hear and smell an idiot not filling out a corner properly.

You’d tell them exactly when to switch colors, disinfect their tools on your own, and not allow a single deviation from the stencil. Or else you’d instigate a general lawsuit to shut down their studio, good riddance. And Jungkook was the precise opposite of that.

Switching colors? He didn’t even care about those things. It was all about lying down and letting it happen instead. Taehyung once remarked to you over a very strong coffee: „He’d still think you’re cool if you ruined him entirely“.

The vast majority of your clients would rather give you their idea and you execute it for them. Point blank. Modify it at best. Maybe correct it a lot or give a second choice of the same aesthetic. Say, you’ve had this lady Hyuna come over, she wanted a cute teddy bear, but the area on the leg was better suited for an elongated cotton candy motif, so you both went with that and put the teddy bear on her shoulder blade and her husband got the same one later.

But you never got someone begging for you to decide it all to the last millimeter. Not even the canvases that flirted with seasoned contestants at the show were ready to surrender their skin this way. If someone wanted to kiss their tattooists’ ass? They’d rather spill out the most dramatic speech of praise on their work. At this point, you’re sure Jungkook likes you in a way you don’t yet understand, or never experienced.

Even the most trusting veteran clients of yours wouldn’t act like he would, and even canvasses of absolute genius tattooists would come to the revered maestros with their own suggestions and some big no-gos. Jungkook’s `do what you want, and only you can touch my body´ attitude has almost made even Taehyung’s eyes fall out. And Taehyung’s seen a lot of unhinged clients over the span of his career.

It was quite obvious to you that he’d be your award show canvas for more than just one gig. He had the kind of enthusiasm and an empty space on his legs and back. His dance background had also given him the gift of even subconsciously presenting himself well in front of crowds because of his posture and way of walking.

In a way, you were almost too happy that Jungkook came back for more now, and he was trusting. You’d reward him with poker straight edges and extra time for creativity. For some reason, you were biased, and that already happened way before you slept together. Jungkook would spend the birthday of his lifetime getting his back tattoo.

While you ponder, there’s some noise from the other side of the house, and he’s returning.

„Did he mean those?“ a little question poses from the entrance of the hallway, and it’s Jungkook standing in the frame all dressed up.

„Sporty!“

„Yeah—“

„Can you still feel your circulation or not?“

„I needed to try several socks until it felt comfortable,“ he giggles, in typical manner, and does a little spin for fun.

Even though you’ve seen Jungkook’s naked back a thousand times in your studio, in fact you know every hair of peach fuzz on it, you’re carefully surveying it now more than ever, painting a tattoo across the bones and muscles with your eyes. Maybe his ass was next in line after the thighs, by the way. You’d run out of conventional space anyway.

„And I always thought Yoongi’s feet were pretty large. Turns out yours are bigger than his?“

„I can’t really explain it either, maybe the socks ended up in the dryer somehow?“

Yoongi really is quite a bit smaller than Jungkook. Formerly just a normal fitting piece, the polo top is pretty much a muscle shirt now. Preppy fashion runway? No, he can make your house look like a gym outfitter. The light-colored pants — it’s obvious he’s not wearing anything underneath. That silly riffled waistband is holding on to dear life. He couldn’t even tie a ribbon with the strings.

„Turn this place into a laundrette, I don’t mind. I’ll leave you in charge of the washing machine next time. Yoongi bought enough fabric softener last Wednesday.“

„I saw! Cotton candy flavor.“

He might as well be a tailor, too. Most of the clothing construction threatens to fall apart at the widest point of his thighs, at least the slender calves fit in these pants. But: It stretches, and he’s got something on.

You drop your empty juice glass into the sink, alongside your plate and sandwich knife. Your wink is far from unsettling to him.

Jungkook doesn’t want to wait until Yoongi returns to take care of the dishes. He also hand-washes his clothing from yesterday in the sink. It’s funny seeing it hang and sway dry outside, but the approaching sunshine heat promises that he’ll be good to go soon enough: With proper underwear.

For the time being, you pour some water into the fridge’s icemaker and give Jungkook a house tour. There’s finally someone you can play table football with. On the first floor, where you arranged your luxury woman cave five thousand. Yoongi could only play the defense with one arm, so you had to rely on random color tattoo clients being down to square up against your national team after a consultation. It was more fun to play with a friend.

Powered by his now-tied ponytail, Jungkook is actually too good to play against, which you notice being five-nil behind. Regardless, you `magically´ recover at seven-nine, right after he whines how a stray lash keeps poking in his eye.

There is no stray lash to be found when you check up close, but you still enjoy looking in his eyes. Jungkook was definitely blessed with some of the most reassuring bambi-like eyes. That deep reflective hazel tone looks better than any pricey brown ink of yours ever could.

Nature, after all, is the best tattooist.

read it on ao3

[dom!reader MASTERLIST]

note. thank you for reading to the end <3 i hope i got you dreaming of back/chest tattoos for jk now 😂 i love this topic, it was really intricate to write and i hope you enjoyed!

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts #bangtan #sub!jungkook #dom!reader #kpop smut #+ yoongi makes a cameo as a chef #kpop fanfic #sub!bts #sub!kpop

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obsessedelusional · 1 year

Text

religious trauma but make it gay

masterlist

paring ✦ Bella Ramsey x fem!Reader

summary ✦ Bella was your childhood best friend. The one person you felt like you could tell anything. So you do exactly that, coming out to them when you two were still young. Only for Bella to push you away. What happens when they show up at your work several years later?

word count ✦ 3,500ish

authors note ✦ I’m so in love with Bella Ramsey and there’s barely nothing out there. So I took it upon myself lmao hope y’all enjoy!!! Also I’ve never written for a real person so I hope this ok request for Bella open bc I’m a simp rn

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!!

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

several years ago

“I think I’m gay.” You admit to your childhood best friend, Bella. The two of you sat in the school yard, parked under a tree.

“What?” She asks, forcing you to repeat the statement you’ve been trying to find the courage to say for months now.

“I think I like girls.” You further explain.

“That’s a sin. You can’t like girls.” Bella spits, bringing tears to you eyes.

“Bella-“ You say their name, letting the tears fall as they interrupt you.

“It’s a sickness, you can get help. My pastor will know exactly what to do.” She says, entirely seriously. Taking your hands in theirs, you quickly push them way. You can’t believe what your hearing.

“I don’t need help. I needed my friend to be there for me.” You stand up from the floor, overwhelmed by the entire situation.

“I don’t think-“ Bella hesitates.

“I don’t think we can be friends anymore.” Her words tremble like their unsure as they come out.

“I knew you were religious but this takes it to a whole another level.” You croak before leaving Bella sat alone under that tree. Part of you thought they’d come back, apologize to you after some time passed. That never happened, ten years of friendship over because of you opened your mouth about your sexuality. At the time you regretted saying anything at all, wishing you had just kept it bottled up inside.

The worst part was when their mother called a couple weeks after the incident basically outing you, offering your mother her pastors number. To your surprise your mom politely declined, she accepted you fully for who you were. It was a bit awkward at first at home but eventually everything went back to normal. That summer you attended your first Pride Parade and felt so seen that the coming school year you came out publicly. Considering the two of you were in the same grade you still saw them around, although never speaking to them again.

After a few years Bella landed her first huge roll in Game of Thrones, leaving your guys hometown behind. You didn’t have to see her face around anymore. Part of you happy for them but sad you couldn’t be in their life to support them. Only to remember they never supported you when you need them most.

present day

It had been several years since you came out, now living your most authentic life. Since then you had a few relationships, nothing too serious. Normally only lasting a few months before breaking up. You had graduated high school, started college shortly after. You got into the college you’d been dreaming of and the major you always imagined yourself as. Your college was a few hours from your home town so you occasionally saw people from there at your part time job. A couple days a week you were a barista at this cute little coffee shop right on the corner of the busiest street.

“What can I get you?” You ask blindly, going through the motions of a transaction.

“Y/N?” The voice on the other side of the counter asks, causing you to look up from the cash register. Looking up you’re greeted by the girl who you hadn’t seen since that depressing day. The day you lost your best friend.

“I can’t believe you work here.” They say, their voice warm.

“Yup.” You say flatly.

“What can I get you?” You ask, trying to quicken this interaction.

“The film I’m working on is filming just down the street for the next few weeks. I’ve been trying to find you for years, you have like no social media.” They admit, completely disregarding your attempt to not make small talk.

“Can I get you something?” You asks again, uninterested in what they have to say.

“Damn I deserve that.” They sigh before muttering off their order and paying. He walks over to the pick up area and you start making their drink. Every time you look up from your work they’re already staring. You can’t help but look too, they’ve changed so much. You’ve seen things about them online and people from your home town loved to talk about the girl who made it big. Always asking, “Didn’t you used to be friends with Bella?”

Once you’re done with their drink, you walk over to where they stand and set their drink down on the counter.

“Y/N wait.” They plead before you can turn your back to them. Against your better judgment you stop, briefly making eye contact. Saying nothing but signaling with your eyes to speak.

“I’m so sorry. I know what I did was shitty. I haven’t stopped thinking about that day since. While I’m still in town I’d like to apologize better like take you out or something so we can talk.” They explain, almost rambling their words.

“I understand if you don’t want to but here’s my phone number. Consider giving me a call or a text or anything, please.” They smile reassuringly pleading with you one last time, passing you a small folded up paper. They leave the coffee shop, drink in hand. You catch your self watching them leave, mind wandering on what you’re gonna do with their number.

Part of you wants to throw it away. An even bigger part of you wants to find out what would happened if you contacted Bella. Maybe their viewpoints have changed, it’s the least you can hope for. Against your better judgement you slip the small piece of paper in your phone case, deciding you’ll worry about it later. The rest of the work day is slow, painfully slow. Nothing to keep your mind distracted from thinking about Bella.

—

“I should be good, if you’re ready to take off.” Your coworker speaks, disrupting your spiraling thoughts.

“Okay,” is all you can say before rushing to clock out. Grabbing your belongings and thanking your coworker before leaving.

Once home you reach for the folded up piece of paper that’s been living in your phone case all day. You hesitate for a few moments before finally mustering up the courage to open it. All that is reads is their phone number, nothing else. You’re not sure how long your sat there staring at the piece of paper but eventually you decide to just shoot them a text.

you: hey it’s y/n

You don’t hear anything back that night. You stay up later then normal stressing about the entire situation. Imagining that it was all some elaborate set up, Bella’s sat up laughing at how stupid you could be to think that they’d want apologize.

The next morning arrives, your alarm goes off bright and early. You have a long day of classes ahead of you. You rush getting ready, picking out the most basic clothes you own. Not it the mood to try, exhausted from the lack of sleep from Bella’s sudden return to your life.

“Girl you good?” A girl you had always been friendly towards in your nine am class asks. You can never remember her name.

“It’s it that obvious?” You let out an exasperated laugh.

“No offense. Your just usually all dolled up and suddenly you look not dolled up. You just look tired.” She laughs.

“Dolled up?” You ask, curiously. For the first time truly noticing the girl who’s always sat near you.

“Yeah you always got them eye lashes and stuff. Not that you don’t look cute today, you always look cute.” They explain poorly. You can’t help but laugh at their way to describe makeup.

“Too tired this morning. Thanks I think?” You smile, she smiles back before the professor walks in and starts class. For a brief moment you forget about the lack of response from Bella. Too busy thinking about the attractive person who low-key just flirted with you. Only for that to be quickly forgotten when your phone vibrates from your pocket. You slyly pull it out laying it flat on your desk, where the professor can’t see. It is Bella, you catch yourself smiling at her name popping up. Stopping yourself immediately from having that type of reaction.

Bella: hey sorry I didn’t respond sooner super late work day only to wake up even earlier to work some more but I have tomorrow off so can we please get together

You decide you’ll respond but make them wait, not nearly as long as you waited. But you’ll stick it to them, make them wait till your out of class. The rest of the period is spent mentally drafting your response. Are you really after all these years ready to meet up with Bella? Maybe.

When class is over you shove all your belongings your bag, rushing to leave so you can send your text. Only to be stopped by that girl from before.

“What class do you have next?” She asks.

“Uhm,” You have to think about it for a moment too distracted by the phone burning a hole in your pocket.

“English in Butcher Hall at one.” You blurt out once you can remember. Normally you either go back to your dorm, grab lunch or study in the library. Today you had planned on going back to your dorm, knowing you weren’t going to be capable of studying.

“Dope. You wanna get lunch or something? I don’t have class till 1 too.” They explain, a smile on their face.

“Oof,” You say aloud, regrettably. The laugh almost as if they’re confused.

“I totally would but I got stuff I have to do before my next class.” You explain, sort of lying. Unsure why your lying just so you can hurriedly respond to Bella.

“That’s fine. Another time maybe?” She asks.

“Yeah.” You smile before walking off, back to your dorm room. They wave goodbye as you leave. When your out of their reach, you pull your phone out and type your message.

you: tomorrow works, I have one class in the morning. I’ll be done around noon. After that is ok

bella: sounds good wanna grab lunch at one?

you: yeah

Bella responds in a short time, sending you the address of a restaurant you never heard of before. You decide not respond anymore, deciding that any talking that needs to be done can be done tomorrow.

—

You had woken up early enough to actually get ready today. Or “dolled up” as the girl from your class would say. Thankfully you didn’t have that class with her today, knowing you couldn’t handle that along with all that is already going on.

After class, you walk quickly back to you dorm. Using the hour you have to dress cuter, fixing up your makeup. Mentally preparing yourself for the conversation that is about to be had. You pull up the address Bella gave you and it’s a cute little Italian restaurant. That’s always been your favorite, for long as you can remember. You wonder for a moment if they remember or if it’s just a coincidence. The drive is short, too nervous to listen to music. Letting your inner dialogue fill the silence. You park near the front door, looking down at the clock on your dash and you have a few minutes to spear. You phone goes off and it’s Bella.

bella: I’m here just let the hostess know your here to see me

All of a sudden it all starts to feel real. Your going to be having lunch with Bella after several years of no contact after coming out to them. It’s not too late to back out, you think for a moment. You have too though, you’ve made it this far. It’s a quick walk from your car to the door, you let yourself in. Greeted by a girl at the hostess desk.

“Hello!” The hostess beams.

“Hi I’m here to meet with Bella.” You explain.

“Right this way,” She smiles grabbing a menu and leading you towards the back of the restaurant where it’s more secluded. Pass the view of the back of the hostess head you can see Bella sat, scrolling through their phone. The sight of them biting their nails, puts some of your worries at ease. Knowing that they’re just as nervous makes this a little easier. Bella looks up from their phone, smiling brightly at you when they notice you.

“You still like Italian?” They ask.

“Yeah I do.” You smile because they remembered.

“I’m so glad you actually showed up.” Bella says examining you.

“After what I did I always thought you’d want nothing to do with me forever.” They explain, you quickly notice them fiddling with the table cloth.

“I’m so sorry.” They say now with a bit of sadness to their voice. Your not entirely ready to forget what happened but the sight of them is tempting you to forgive them on the spot.

“You know you haven’t grown much?” You tease as an attempt to lighten the situation.

“What?” They ask confused.

“You’ve always been so short and that hasn’t changed. You’ve cut all your hair off, I like it.” You let out an awkward laugh.

“We’ll when everyone is old and looks old I’ll still look young.” They laugh, you can tell they’re finally beginning to relax.

“Plus in my line of work it’s a plus. I can continue to play younger roles as I age.” They explain. Which leads to you asking them what they’re in town filming for. The conversation begins to flow smoothly, smiles never leaving either of your faces. You two order and wait for the food to come over. When the conversation eventually lulls, Bella’s face is screaming like she has something she wants to say but can’t get it out. You eyes dart to their fingers that anxiously fidget with the utensils in from of them.

“It’s okay,” You reassure them resting your hand on theirs. You feel them relax under your touch.

“I’m gay.” They spit out.

“Really?” You ask.

“Which is why I reacted the way I did when you told me. I’ve always had feelings for… women. I was raised to believe that it was wrong. I struggled internalized homophobia for years only recently coming to terms with my sexuality. I was so scared at the time.” Bella admits, your hand still rests on theirs. They look to you like they’re waiting for a response.

“I forgive you.” You respond.

“I would of done this sooner. Your just not the easiest person to find.”

“It’s fine Bella. Just promise we’ll stay in touch now, okay?”

“I promise.”

—

They did exactly that. For the rest of their time in town, when ever your schedules aligned you two we’re together. Or they would find any excuse to leave set and stop by for a quick visit when you were working. Getting to know each other all over again, you couldn’t help it forming a crush on them. They made you so happy, the most comfortable you felt around someone in forever. You finally got your Bella back.

Only for her to have to leave you after a few weeks. Her film was moving locations so they’d be several hours away. It was only for a month but you were so torn up about it. They had promised as soon as that month was over, they’d be back in your home town and visiting you as much as possible.

It was a bit awkward when that girl form your class kept making the moves on you. One day your finally let them down gently. It was entirely because of the slight chance with Bella you thought you might have.

You finally got your Bella back only to have separate again. This time though, you were friends. That month was spent on face time calls when ever you got the chance. Always waking up to good morning texts and not going to sleep until you two had a chance to talk on the phone. You can’t remember the last time you had smiled so much. Always checking you phone, biggest smile on your lips. All because of Bella.

—

one month later

“I missed you.” Bella says, wrapping you in a hug. Their head resting in your shoulder, breathing in your aroma.

“I missed you, more.” You tease. You feel them laugh in your embrace before pulling away.

“I may have got me an air bnb for a week or so.”

“Really? I thought this was just a weekend kind of thing.” You say, biting your lip trying your best not to smile too hard. Originally you couldn’t help but be upset when Bella flight was delayed, their 10 am arrival turned into 5 pm. You had thought half your time with them was wasted.

“We’ll you were wrong.”

“I’m glad.” You laugh, following them to your car. Helping them load their luggage. Bella pulls up her maps app and types in the location of the air bnb. You drive, listening to Bella talk about everything that had happened in the last month of filming.

“You’re so cute when you talk about your job.” You respond, letting the word cute slip out.

“What do you mean?” They ask.

“You’re cute. Do I really need to elaborate?”

“I guess not.” They smile. The rest of the car ride is filled with a comfortable silence.

Eventually you two arrive at their temporary home for the week or so. You help Bella unload and follow them to the door, watching as they unlock the lock box that has the house key inside. They open the door for you, you walk inside.

“Wow this place is so nice.” You awe at the beauty of the living room.

“You think this is nice? Come look at the back yard.” Bella leads you to the back yard, it’s so beautiful. Plants everywhere and jacuzzi, wishing suddenly you had brought a swim suit.

“Wow.” You say aloud, noticing the large hanging chair. Big enough for multiple people. It hangs over the deck, with the perfect view of the nature behind the house. Without hesitation you climb into the hanging chair, Bella watches you amused. You let out a screech when it move from your weight. Eventually you fall on your back, looking up at the stars. Bella continues to watch you, enjoying the view of you enjoying yourself.

“Are you not going to join me?” You speak up.

“I guess so.” You laugh at their attempt to climb up, their attempt causing it to swing and sends Bella landing closer to you than they had originally intended. When you didn’t pull away, they didn’t either. The two of you, sit in silence staring up at the starry sky. Eventually Bella is the one to break the silence.

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.” You respond, sitting up on your elbows so you can see them better. They begin speaking, not daring to look at you.

“I said I knew Ialways had feelings for women. Like I always knew I liked women. The truth is I had feelings for you. When you said you were gay, I freaked out because my feelings for you could of become a reality. I think that’s the real reason I pushed you away. I knew I couldn’t be in your life as just a friend but also that I wasn’t ready to be out. I don’t if that makes sense and know I’m rambling. I’m sorry.” Bella finally gains the courage to look at you after their words.

“It’s okay.” You smile, biting you lip. Thinking this is the moment you’ve been waiting for.

“So you’re not mad at me?” Bella asks.

“Not at all. The real question though, are those feelings still there?” You ask, curiously. Your tone a little flirty.

“They’ve always been there. Bumping into you only reignited them. Then you actually said yes to meeting up with me, I couldn’t believe it. I still don’t believe it.”

“Believe it.” You laugh before closing the space between you two. Letting your lips kiss Bella’s for the first time. It takes them a moment to fully register what’s happening, shortly kissing you back. Their hands reach for your head pulling you in closer. You’re the one to pull away, needing to catch your breath. That only lasts a few moments before they’re the one initiate the second kiss. The two of you spend a few hours on the hanging chair. Kissing, laughing and talking about anything and everything. Only going inside because it began to rain. That night you guys stayed up so late, some time around 3am Bella asked you to be their girlfriend. You said yes.

#bella ramsey #bella ramsey x you #bella ramsey x reader #bella ramsey oneshot #bella ramsey pov #bella ramsey fluff #bella Ramsey angst #bella ramsey imagine #tlou #the last of us #ellie williams

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fandomfucker · 7 months

Note

heyy, would you be able to write a fluffy rhea x reader one shot please?

one where reader and rhea have been dating for a little bit and reader has a kid (like 1 year old or something), but rhea doesn’t know yet. reader has a conversation with rhea and confesses and rhea is shocked, but asks to meet them. as soon as she meets the baby, rhea falls in love with him/her and adores the baby so much and grows to love him/her like her own. and just make it like really fluffy please?

it’s okay if no ☺️

I don't know a lot about kids so please bear with me, and apologies for taking forever. Please enjoy ❤

Words: 2,336

I was so nervous I could've thrown up.

Rhea and I had been going out for a few months now and she was coming back tomorrow after having not seen her for over two weeks.

And since we've already been going out for a couple of months, I figured it was either now or never with telling her about my daughter, Celia.

She was almost two now and my absolute pride and joy. Her father hadn't been in the picture since before she was born but I wasn't nervous telling Rhea about him. Just her. Because if she wants to have me she has to have my daughter too and if she can't deal with that then...

Let's say that my saying I'm nervous is a severe understatement. I was absolutely terrified.

Neither of us had said it yet, but I love Rhea. So much. So if my having a child is a dealbreaker then I don't even know what I'll do.

Tomorrow I'm going to be picking her up from the airport after her last match against Raquel Rodriguez. They're giving her a two-week injury-scripted break after having been in multiple WWE events each week the past few weeks.

We've both been really looking forward to it and had even started planning some stuff for us to do while she was here. Luckily we actually live only one city apart so she doesn't have to get a hotel or stay at my house, just in case anything goes wrong.

Which, I don't think it will but you never know.

I was currently bathing my daughter before bedtime, the worry must've been evident on my face.

"Mama?" Celia spoke up.

Looking down at her I saw her looking up at me, her eyes fixated on my face. There was a little crease of confusion and concern between her brows.

"Yes, my darling?" I questioned her, bending down to give her forehead a kiss as I filled the plastic cup with water again to rinse her hair out.

"Why sad?" She asked innocently, splashing her rubber duck in the water as she played. This duck was Sir Quacks a Lot, who was married to the other Sir Quacks a Lot. They had drama with the Mrs Quacks a Lot and we're currently in an argument about Baby Quacks a Lot.

"Nothing for you to worry that pretty little head over," I grinned, booping the top of her nose, sending her into a fit of giggles and splashes.

After Celia's bath, I dressed her in the fuzzy brown bear onesie I had found for her not too long ago and put her to bed.

Walking back downstairs after making sure Celia was asleep, all the nerves and doubts I had managed to push aside came back and hit me.

I went to go grab a glass of water, noticing that my hand was starting to shake. I decided to just go straight to bed. After all, Rhea was getting in pretty early so I had to be up and get to the airport also super early. At this point, all I could do was hope that she wouldn't leave me.

-Time Skip-

Waiting at the terminal Rhea would be coming out of with a bouquet of flowers was nerve-wracking as hell. She had texted me the estimated time they were supposed to land but it's never exact so I didn't actually know when she would arrive.

After a little over half an hour, I finally saw her plane land and make its way to the little hallway between the plane and the airport. Another twenty minutes later I saw her. For the first time in over two weeks, we were in the same place at the same time, together.

My breath caught in my throat as I watched her look around for me, our eyes finally meeting from across the room.

I watched as her gorgeous face lit up and she started to make a beeline for me.

Momentarily forgetting my nervousness I grinned and stepped forward to meet her in the middle as we collided into a tight hug.

"Hey, beautiful," I spoke, my voice thickening with emotion.

I felt Rhea release a deep sigh of relief against me before she responded, "Hey, baby."

"I missed you," I croaked into her neck, shoving my face into her and breathing her scent in.

"I missed you too," She replied as she stroked my hair with one hand and my lower back with the other.

Pulling myself away from her I just stood there and stared at her face for a second before speaking, "Let's go home, yeah?"

She nodded and grabbed my hand as we started to walk towards the luggage claim to pick up her suitcase.

"So, are those for me? Or..." Rhea playfully questioned me, trailing off at the end as she gestured to my hand holding her flowers.

"Oh!" I exclaimed. I had completely forgotten about them in my excitement of having her here with me again.

"Yes, they're for you, sorry," I apologized, blushing deeply. She chuckled and took them from me, smelling them before kissing my temple.

"They're beautiful, Love. Just like you," She smirked at me causing me to blush yet again.

I ducked my head down to hide the blush as I grinned widely and giggled.

We made idle talk as we walked to the luggage claim and then grabbed her luggage before making our way to my car.

Getting in the car my previous nervousness hit me again in full force. Pausing to just rest my hands on the steering wheel and take a breather I could feel Rhea turn to me in concern, "What's wrong?"

She was giving me an opening, it was now or never.

"I have something I need to tell you." Slowly I pulled my gaze from the dash of my car to her eyes. Her brows were furrowed in concern and her mouth was pulled into a frown.

"Is everything okay?" She asked sort of hesitantly.

I nodded quickly, "Yeah, it's just...something I haven't told you yet that I probably should have."

Rhea nodded in encouragement for me to continue.

I took a deep breath. "I have a kid."

Silence.

"What?"

"I have a daughter. Her name is Celia. She'll be two in October." I whispered into the quiet, too scared of her reaction to be any louder.

She looked lost in thought for the next few minutes, slumping back against the seat.

"I'm sorry for not telling you but I could never find the right time and-"

Rhea cut me off, "Hold on. Just, stop."

I shut my mouth, terrified out of my mind of what she was going to say next.

"I just need a second to process this."

"Yeah, no I understand. It's a lot to take in." I quietly replied, chewing on my bottom lip.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She whispered. She sounded choked up and on the verge of tears which made me start crying.

"Because I thought you would leave and I was scared." I sobbed, covering my face with my hands as if to conceal the tears.

"No, no no no no no." Rhea clamored, reaching for me over the console. "I just wasn't expecting it, that's all." She tried to reassure me, smiling softly. "I could never leave my best girl hangin'."

I giggled at the reference to one of my favorite movies ever and wiped my eyes and nose with the back of my sleeve.

"C-can I meet her?" Rhea asked hesitantly, "It's okay if not I completely under-" I leaned over the console and kissed her, effectively shutting her up.

"Of course, you can meet her. She's actually been asking for quite some time now when she gets to meet 'Ree-Ree'." I laughed, recounting the many times she asked for another bedtime story about "Mama's friend".

Rhea beamed and kissed my cheek, reassuring me once again that she was okay with me having a child. We'd be having a more in-depth talk about it later on but right now it was time for them to meet.

We pulled up to my house almost half an hour later, where my sister was watching Celia while I was out.

Getting out of the car, I grabbed Rhea's luggage for her before she even had a chance to grab it and walked up to the door with my keys. Taking a deep breath I unlocked the door, pushing it open before standing aside for Rhea to walk in first.

She nodded in thanks as she walked through, looking around and taking in her surroundings. My house was a bit more on the unconventional side, being a maximalist and all.

"Zoey?" I yelled into the house to find her after closing the door behind us. "Kitchen!"

I rolled Rhea's suitcase against the wall a little ways away from the door and motioned for her to put her backpack there as well before following me.

I made my way to the kitchen with Rhea following idly behind, still taking in my house. As soon as I laid eyes on my daughter in her booster seat I smiled and made a beeline for her, making "monster" grabby-hands.

She squealed with delight, grinning madly all the while as I unbuckled her and picked her up above my head, blowing raspberries on her exposed stomach making her squirm and giggle.

Bringing her down to rest on my hip I kissed the top of her head as she buried it into my neck. I turned around when I remembered that we weren't alone.

Zoey, my sister, and Rhea were standing next to each other, both watching the two of us with a smile on their face. I side-hugged Zeoy hello before introducing them to each other.

"It's so nice to finally meet you! I've heard so many things about you and Y/n even made me get into wrestling." Zoey exclaimed excitedly, making Rhea laugh. "I've heard a lot about you as well so it's great to meet you too."

"Well, I better get going I have to run some errands before I get home to let the dogs out." Zoey excused herself, grabbing her bag before making her way back over to me.

"Bye-bye CeCe." She cooed, tickling her neck before giving her forehead a kiss. "I'll see you later, sis," She gave me another side hug.

"Rhea, it was lovely meeting you, maybe we can all get together soon while you're here? Oh! We could do a double date with you two and me and my partner!" She excitedly exclaimed.

"Totally! That sounds great, we'll definitely have to get together. I can't wait!" Rhea replied enthusiastically. Zoey gave Rhea a quick hug before bounding out the door, leaving us alone with my daughter.

Rhea slowly walked up to us, I could read the nervousness on her face.

"CeCe, this is mama's friend Rhea, remember?" I spoke gently to Celia. She lifted her head from my neck and looked at Rhea with her big beautiful eyes. I could see Rhea's initial hesitation melt away as they locked eyes.

"Hello there, little one." Rhea greeted her softly, waggling her fingers at her like how she does when she's in character.

Celia must have recognized either her name or her picture because she then started to bounce in my arms as she giggled and held out her arms to Rhea to hold her.

"You wanna hold her?" I asked her, shifting my hold a bit on CeCe.

"Um, I-I don't know. I'm not really sure how I should hold her." Rhea stammered.

"Just like this," I replied, gesturing goofily to how she rested on my hip.

"O-okay," She half-smiled nervously, grabbing Celia under her arms and hefting her gently onto her hip. Celia giggled and wiggled around the whole time, putting her hands on Rhea's face and patting them around.

"Sorry, she likes to do that," I apologized embarrassed.

"It's all good," Rhea laughed, gently removing Celia's hands from her face.

Grinning at my two favorite girls I made an offer they couldn't refuse. "How about y'all go and play while I go and make some breakfast yeah?"

"Yes!" Celia squealed, squirming enough that Rhea put her down. "That sounds great, Love." Rhea chuckled.

Celia raised her arm near where Rhea's hand rested, asking for her to hold her hand. Rhea grabbed a hold of her hand and was immediately pulled away towards the direction of the living room. Rhea shot me a look of panic before disappearing from my view making me laugh.

I put on some music and began making breakfast as Rhea and Celia played in the living room.

After I finished making breakfast I set the table as well, wanting a nice fancy breakfast for Rhea's coming home and first time at my house.

I made my way to the living room to get the two of them to come eat but stopped short in the doorway when I saw them.

Rhea sat on the floor crisscrossed in front of Celia with a tiny plastic crown on her head, a pink plastic teacup in one hand, and a giant plastic dinosaur in the other.

Celia stood in front of her also wearing a tiny plastic crown on her head but I could see that Rhea had given her one of her necklaces to wear as she poured the two of them cups of tea.

I smiled as I watched Rhea play pretend with her, not wanting to interfere with the adorableness. Just seeing Rhea wearing her scary full black outfit with dark jewelry and makeup wearing a tiny pink crown was enough to make me fall madly in love right then and there. And I think I did.

"I hate to interrupt, but breakfast is ready," I spoke up, finally announcing my presence.

Celia bounded over to me, holding out the end of Rhea's necklace she was wearing to me. "Look what 'ea gave me!"

"Wow! What a lucky girl you are! Let's go wash up for breakfast though, yeah?" I picked her up and set her on my hip as I turned to look at Rhea who was blushing furiously.

Grinning at her I playfully asked what was the matter.

"Didn't know you were there," Rhea mumbled, reaching up to pull the crown off.

"Leave it, I like it," I smirked as I turned on my heel to make my way back to the kitchen. I think this could work.

#rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #the judgement day #the judgement day x reader #tjd x reader #wwe x reader #wwe #wwe raw

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f1povs · 1 month

Text

You’re safe with me

Pairing : Sergio Checo Perez x reader

Summary- y/n sister of Carlos Sainz. When he followed his dreams of being a f1 driver she followed hers and became a firefighter. After things went south on a call y/n decided to move in with Carlos.

A/n : so this is an idea I’ve had for ages and thinking of writing a whole story on this idea. This is my first time actually posting something as never had the confidence to post but after seeing so many amazing writers on here and other apps I thought I might as well try so please no hate or negativity. If you have any advice then feel free to share and if you think I should write a whole story then please say and I will do my best 🙏

Y/n watched the world go by as she sat in her favorite park, her gaze distant and unfocused. It was as if she was watching a movie play out before her eyes, with all the characters moving in slow motion. She knew everyone around her, the way they smiled, the way they laughed, the way they lived their lives. But she felt disconnected from it all, as if she were merely an observer in someone else's story. Her mind wandered back to the countless times she had watched her brother, Carlos, race his heart out on the track, cheering him on from the sidelines, her voice echoing above the roar of the engines.

She remembered the day she had decided to become a firefighter. It had been an impulsive decision, born out of a desire to protect those she loved and make a difference in the world. Little did she know that it would lead her down a path filled with heartache and loss, with every victory she achieved coming at the cost of someone else's suffering. But she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in her accomplishments, even as she struggled to come to terms with the darkness that lurked beneath the surface.

The wind picked up suddenly, rustling the leaves of the trees and sending a shiver down her spine. Y/n looked up, her eyes meeting those of a stranger who was staring at her intently. For a brief moment, they locked gazes, and she felt a strange sense of familiarity wash over her. It was as if this person knew everything about her, all her secrets and fears, and they were offering her a glimmer of hope in return. But then the moment passed, and the stranger turned away, disappearing into the crowd like a ghost. After sitting in the park for a while y/n decided that she couldn’t be here, in this town anymore. Y/n picked up her phone and rang her brother.

Carlos: hey y/n are you okay?

Y/n: um yeah I’m okay. Um I’m just wondering if… I… um… could come move in with you?”

Y/n held back the tears trying to escape her eyes as she spoke to her brother.

Carlos: yeah of course you can move in when are you coming I’ll get a room ready.

After couple hours flight, Y/n smiled as she spotted her brother, Carlos Sainz, standing outside the airport terminal. He looked as handsome as ever, dressed impeccably in his racing gear. Despite the hectic week of training getting ready for the race on the weekend, he'd managed to take time out of his schedule to pick her up from the airport. She hadn't seen him in months, not since the accident at work.

It wasn’t a long drive but seemed like forever. Carlos tried making small talk but y/n wasn’t really interested. She was in a world of her own as she stared out of her brothers car window. No one knew how bad the accident was. All they knew was that y/n was in an accident at work.

Finally y/n and Carlos arrived. The paddock was abuzz with activity, a whirlwind of color and motion that seemed to swirl around her like a dream. She had been away for months, as y/n stepped out of the car the familiar smell of racing fuel and burning rubber hung thick in the air, mingling with the sounds of engines revving and tires screeching. It was like being in a live-action painting, vibrant and alive with the energy of a thousand hearts beating as one. Y/n thought it was nice to be back with her f1 family. Everyone was excited to greet y/n but there was one particular driver who was more excited to see her.

As Sergio Perez turned the corner, his heart skipped a beat. There she was, standing by the lockers with her brothers and his friends, her back to him. It had been months since they'd last seen each other, and the familiarity of her figure was almost overwhelming. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves as he walked towards her. His gaze drifted over her shoulder-length hair, the way it casually fell across her back, and the way she was hugging herself, as if she were cold. He fought the urge to run up and envelop her in a warm embrace, instead opting for a friendly wave as he neared.

“Hey, y/n!" he called out, his voice sounding a little more nervous than he'd intended. She turned around, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. But the usual sparkle in her eyes had gone. Before her eyes would sparkle in the fluorescent light, and Sergio would find himself blushing, but this time was different.

"Hey, Sergio," she replied, her voice soft. "It's good to see you ." She walked over to him, her steps light. He noticed that she was wearing the same perfume she had been wearing the last time they'd met, and it made his heart race a little faster. But as she got closer Sergio could see something was wrong.

Fast forward to race night

The sun began to dip below the horizon, bathing the grid in a warm, golden light. The race was about to end. Everyone cheered as the drivers rushed past the checkered flag. Max at P1, Sergio at P2, and Carlos at P3.

The three men stood on the podium as they celebrated their wins. The crowd cheered and shouted celebrations. Fireworks exploded overhead, their colorful bursts of light painting the sky with a kaleidoscope of colors. It was a beautiful sight, one that would have filled her heart with joy on any other day. But tonight, the sound of the explosions sent her spiraling back to that fateful night, the night of the explosion that had taken the lives of so many, including those closest to her. the fireworks only served as a painful reminder of the day that had changed her life forever. She couldn't help but shiver as she stood on the edge of the crowd, her heart racing and her palms slick with sweat. The memory of the explosion was as vivid as if it had happened only yesterday: the screams of terror, the heat that seared her skin, the deafening boom that shook the ground beneath her feet.

Sergio Checo Perez stood on his podium and searched the crowd for y/n. As soon as his eyes landed on y/n, He could see the pain in her eyes, the fear that gripped her soul, and in that moment he jumped off the podium and raced to y/n in the crowd. His fellow drivers and his team was shouting for him to come back and celebrate the win but he had to do everything in his power to make her feel safe, to make her feel loved. He knew that the accident was more than a normal accident that can happen on the job like she had said. He knew there was more to the story, he knew that the the memories were painful, he knew what was happening as he has experience people he knew go through the same thing and he could never erase the memories that haunted her, the demons that tormented her every waking moment.

Now, as she sat there, on the floor in the crowd, watching the fireworks light up the sky, she felt him approaching, his presence a warm, comforting blanket wrapping itself around her. He knelt down beside her, his expression a mixture of concern and understanding. "Hey," he whispered, reaching out to take her hand. "You don't have to go through this alone." She didn't know if she could believe him, but for some reason, she found herself leaning into his touch, feeling a small spark of hope ignite within her. "I know it's hard," he continued, his voice gentle and soothing. "But we'll get through this together, okay?"

Her eyes met his, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for her to find peace, to find happiness again. And in that moment, she knew that she wasn't truly alone anymore.

They sat there together, watching the fireworks explode overhead, their fingers intertwined. As the last of the fireworks faded away, leaving the sky empty and black once more, Sergio leaned forward, his lips brushing against her ear. "You're okay. You are safe with me," he whispered.

Y/n closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath against her skin. She knew he was right. Slowly, she turned her head, meeting his gaze once more. There was something in his eyes that she had never seen before, something that told her that he was in this for the long haul.

As they sat there, the wind picked up again, sending a shiver down her spine. But this time, it felt different. It felt like a new beginning, like a promise of better things to come. And for the first time in a long time, Y/n allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was still goodness left in the world, still a reason to keep fighting, to keep going.

Hand in hand, they rose to their feet, the weight of memories and losses not so heavy now. Together, they began to walk through the paddock , their steps echoing through the darkness. As they walked, they talked, sharing stories and laughter, finding solace in the comfort of each other's company. And with every step they took, Y/n felt a little lighter, a little more at peace.

Eventually, they reached a small, secluded clearing, surrounded by tall, ancient trees just outside the circuit. Sergio turned to face her, his eyes searching hers for an answer. She knew what he was asking, and she knew what she wanted to say. Slowly, she nodded, her heart racing with anticipation and fear. He smiled, a soft, gentle smile that made her heart skip a beat, and then he leaned forward, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was both tender and passionate.

As they kissed, the world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them, their love for each other the only thing that mattered. And in that moment, Y/n knew that she had found her home, her place in the world after everything she had been through. She knew that together, they could face anything, overcome any obstacle. Because no matter what happened, they would always have each other.

#f1 fanfic #sergio perez #sergio perez x reader #carlos sainz #formula 1 #f1 x reader #checo perez #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 racing

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sosa2imagines · 5 months

Text

I had my dance and now I'm where I belong. Part 5

----------------------------------------------------- Warnings- Angst for Bucky, Fluff for all (This part will mostly focus on Bucky facing the consequences) ----------------------------------------------------- Part 6 -----------------------------------------------------

Saying yes to go on a date with Steve was the best decision of your life! On your first date he took you to an Italian restaurant and was the perfect gentleman, on your way you had notice few girls drooling over him trying to get his attention but he kept looking ahead and at you, ignoring everyone else. Like only you existed on the planet. Steve made you feel better, feel worthy of love again like there was a light at the end of the dark tunnel.

On the other hand ever since Bucky thought about you his head has not been in the right place. Sharon did finally showed up that night in a disheveled state hair a mess, lipstick all over her mouth but Bucky was too tired to notice, but that didn't stop Sharon from being mad at him for the mess in the room ignoring his painful state she kept the lights on purposefully to annoy Bucky which resulted in him sleeping on the couch, you would never do this to him he thinks about you again.

But that was just the beginning, they would have little and minor arguments here and there like any other couple would but than they turn into more serious and loud arguments. It was only few months into the relationship when the arguments started getting intense that led to resolving their issues by having make up sex and things would go back to normal for awhile.

Even when some random girl would flirt with him Sharon won't confront him unlike you, again he compared you and her. Sharon had a simple solution for everything 'sex'. It would be a huge lie if Bucky said he was not getting fed of it. Sharon was in the mood but Bucky gently denied her instead suggesting her to cuddle and talk, naturally she scoffed still determined she cupped his dick but that only made Bucky yell at her "Can't you for once do something else other than sex?" Sharon removed her hand only to hit Bucky with the pillow which again resulted in him sleeping on the couch for god knows how many times in his own room!

That made him think about his situation relationship with Sharon. She knew Bucky was dating you, yet neither of them pulled away from the kiss and one thing led to another and Bucky slept with her for the entire trip. He knew he shouldn’t have continued things further with Sharon after that mission, yet the sneaking around gave him an adrenaline feeling, he enjoyed it. Their sneaking and love affair continued, at one point Bucky did find himself beginning to fall for Sharon and he was also beginning to be even happier with her.

But than Steve came back, of course he beat him up and Tony did to but both of them said the same thing Sharon will screw this, but how? He started to miss out the little things like hanging out with his friends, enjoying movie nights, playing games, cooking, then he also started missing you the time spent with you how it was not just about only sex, you guys would cuddle, talk for hours without getting bored, go for long walks and help him whenever he had nightmares. Sharon eventually did helped him in the beginning but later on she started to get annoyed she would tell him to suck it up be man enough, on those nights he missed you and Steve terribly, you both would help him in unique ways that made him sleep peacefully.

But now those are only memories and now he lost his friends that are family along with you now he is living with just friends who barely talk to him. Somewhere deep inside he was realizing his mistake he was no longer enjoying infact he was suffering but his ego and pride was bigger at the moment to make him accept the truth.

Few days later few important CIA agents had come to work along side Shield and Tony was more than happy to entertain them especially one particular person 'NICK FOWLER' no one knew he was with the other agents. When Sharon saw the agents she knew instantly helping them would do wonders to her career. So she was casually chatting, flirting, all this was being witness by Bucky who was fuming smoke coming from his ears. He drag Sharon away from them to a corner she was quick to yank her arm away "What the hell are you doing?" She yelled at him "What I'm doing? what are you doing flirting with them?" "That's rich coming from you" "What's that suppose to mean?" "As if you don't flirt with others" "So is this payback?" "Oh honey I don't do paybacks now suck it up you look so cute when jealous" she patted his cheek and left. Their bickering did not go unnoticed by Nat who was smirking.

But Bucky went into a guilt trip as soon as he heard those words 'you look so cute when jealous' that's what he used to say to you whenever you would talk to him about his behavior, in that moment Bucky realized how you must have felt. He never even said sorry to you. Just then he saw Sharon again not just flirting but getting way to close for comfort. The way they were glancing at each other, the way his hand was roaming on her something, no not something, everything felt wrong. "That's Nick Fowler" Tony cuts his train of thoughts "What?" Bucky asks in confusion "CIA agent Nick Fowler, rest of the agents will head back but he is going to stay for a day or two" Tony smiled. "Rogers hates him if he was here that man would have been dead." Tony adds more to Bucky's confusion. "Why?", "Hmm" Tony acts like he thinking smirking he shrugs "Ask Capsicle, a little friendly advice though, keep an eye on those two Cap was lucky not so lucky can't say the same about you" "Wait, what?" Before Bucky can ask anything Tony was gone.

Back at home after another awesome date- "You are quiet today" he asks playfully "I'm thinking" "Can I know what are you thinking about?" You nod looking at the ground blushing hard "I think I'MFALLINGINLOVEWITHYOU" in one breath you confessed what Steve was dying to hear. Steve literally choked on air you had to pat his back "Jesus I didn't know you would react this way, are you okay?" "No I mean yes what did you say? slowly please" You wide your eyes closing them taking a deep breath opening again you look into his eyes "I love you Steve" you tell him pressing your lips back to his. Steve made you feel safe, feel like he would never hurt you in anyway, especially in the way Bucky did. Unlike with Bucky, being with Steve felt secure. There was no doubt that he would be a loyal, loving man.

Ever since Nick Fowler had entered the Tower Sharon was spending more time with him. Bucky was losing his patience. She was hardly with him. Bucky even tried to lure her with promise of a mind blowing sex but she just pushed him away saying she is busy working. "Hey man how does it feel?" Sam asks enjoying the frustration of Bucky. "What do you want?" Bucky asks him clearly annoyed "Y/n felt same when you ignored her only difference is she was not cheating on you" Sam furrowed his brows trying to put some sense into Bucky's brain. But before Bucky could say anything the elevator door opened revealing Sharon and Nick giggling, random blabbering and holding hands. Sam whistled and left the trio alone.

"Where were you?" Bucky barks anger clearly visible, Nick just smirks he hugs Sharon and not so gently squeezes her waist giving Bucky a look and heads towards his room. "What was that?" "What was what Bucky what's gotten into you? We just went out for dinner", "For four hours?" "We lost track of time, aww are you angry? baby you look so cute when you are jealous" again those words something snaps in him he drags Sharon to their room pushes her against the wall he tears apart her shirt and before he can proceed he stops. "What are these?" he asks pointing his finger to the marks on her neck and collarbone. Sharon looks in the mirror and all the color drains out from her face. Bucky's mind flashed him the image of Sharon's disheveled face from many nights ago. "GET OUT!"

----------------------------------------------------- Part 6 ----------------------------------------------------- TAGLIST- @differenttyphoonwerewolf @nouk1998 ----------------------------------------------------- (Hey lovely people why do you think Steve hates Nick? Hope you all enjoy this part finally Bucky getting what he deserves, I know I have dragged it long but I really don't won't to make the parts way too long to read. As always feedback is appreciated lots of love to you all 😁❤️. Sneak peek- Since I dragged it too long, Sharon will be kicked out tomorrow but she will ask someone else to help her and someone else of that some else will slap her 😂) -----------------------------------------------------

#sebastian stan characters #chris evans characters #bucky barnes angst #steve rogers fluff #bucky barnes x reader angst #steve rogers x reader fluff #bucky x reader #steve rogers x reader

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whereianonymouslypostfics · 11 months

Text

Reminiscing

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~1.7k

Summary: Wanda’s midnight musings

A/N: Writing the other au is bumming me out, so here’s some more fluff 😭

Warnings: Fluff, slight angst, reference to previous injury/trauma

Wanda sighs inaudibly as she returns to the bedroom after her usual midnight bathroom break. Since her baby has started to grow and push on her bladder, it felt like she was going to the bathroom 30 times a day. It was annoying and exhausting when it drifted into sleeping hours. She just reminded herself that she was grateful to be pregnant, and she couldn’t wait to meet the life growing inside her. Not only would the two of you finally have a child, but no one would be pushing on her bladder anymore.

Wanda pauses on her way back to bed and takes a moment to admire the sight in front of her. The moonlight that streams into the room between the gap in the curtains shows Wanda that you’re luckily still asleep despite her departure. She’s always worried about waking you because she knew how important your sleep was, but it seemed that as her pregnancy went on, and the more exhausted you became it was easier to sleep through the minor disturbances.

Wanda glances at one of her dogs that is sleeping in the corner before she carefully crawls back into bed. She’s a little warm so she doesn’t pull the covers back over her immediately, and instead she stays near the edge of the bed so she can take a closer look at you.

Your hair has started to fall out of the ponytail you’d put it in before going to sleep. She knows you’ll immediately wake up and take it out before attempting to tame your messy bedhead, and she knows she’ll smile at the sight of you grumbling when it refuses to cooperate. Wanda’s gaze falls to the tank top that you wear because you too are hot-natured, and she admires how it makes your arms look before she notes how it’s ridden up to expose your stomach.

Wanda’s appreciation of your physique continues as she notes the circular scar that’s barely visible in this light, but that she knows is still very much there. She saw it often and despite not wanting to make you feel self-conscious, her gaze always lingered on it because how could it not? It was a reminder of the horrible thing that had happened to you, and although those responsible were dead, Wanda always felt the need to hurt someone when she thought about it for too long. The fairly clean scar on your stomach turned into an almost stellate like scar on your lower back from where Rumlow’s bullet had torn through you. As much as Wanda hated thinking about that horrible day, in the first couple of months after the accident it was impossible not to get riled up when she saw your scar.

Now; however, Wanda’s frustration took a backseat to the admiration she had for you. You’ve been through a lot since meeting her, and this most recent, hopefully last, incident is just something else that you’ve survived. She’s always thought of you as the tough one in the relationship. Sure, she might have been a criminal for over a decade, but you had shown her time and time again that you were resilient. No matter what was thrown at you, you’d bounce back and return stronger than ever. She envied this about you, and hoped that this ability was passed on to her baby.

Wanda can’t help herself and she reaches out blindly for you and traces the outlines of the scar that used to terrify her. The sight of it had been a reminder that she almost lost you, and until you were fully healed, she’d worry about it still being able to take you from her. At this point she’d accepted that you weren’t invincible, and touching your scar like this no longer filled her with dread. For her, it served as a reminder of how much of a badass her wife was, and she felt the familiar sense of pride fill her chest at the thought.

“You’re tickling me.”

You mutter this under your breath as you open an eye to see that your wife is too far away. She must have just gotten back from the bathroom because her fingers are cold against your skin and the ticklish feeling you get whenever she touches your stomach had woken you up. You see her pull her hand back, and you can’t help but frown at the guilty look on her face. You sigh before reaching back out to urge Wanda to come back and cuddle. You’re less than half awake, but you miss feeling your wife in your arms. You stifle a yawn as Wanda moves closer to you and offers you a smile that you don’t see.

“Sorry, detka.”

You shake your head at this as you take one of Wanda’s hands and kiss her knuckles with a tired hum. You are too tired to get into it right now, and you try to wrap your arms around your wife, but Wanda has another idea. She’s still thinking about how proud she is and how much she loves you, and it makes her want to hold you close. The only indication that Wanda’s not on board with the usual arrangement is the annoyed whine she lets out before she’s twisting out of your hold.

“What-?”

You don’t get to finish your question before Wanda’s gently pushing you onto your back and then rolling you to face the window. You frown in confusion but Wanda speaks up before you get the chance to ask again. She shifts closer to you so she can wrap her arms around you, and she sighs happily.

“No, like this.”

Wanda’s stomach presses against your back, and you have to force yourself to relax. You know she’s not supposed to sleep on her stomach, and the fact that you move a lot in your sleep freaks you out sometimes. You worry about rolling on top of her and squishing the baby, and despite it being a little irrational, sleeping like this makes you nervous.

“Shouldn’t you be on your other side?”

Wanda just shakes her head where it rests on your shoulder and she squeezes you a little tighter as she stifles a yawn in your hair.

“It’s alright, dekta. Let’s sleep?”

You nod because you can’t argue with your pregnant wife half asleep, so you take a deep breath before closing your eyes again. You feel her hands drift down your stomach to brush against your scar, but you barely notice. You’re almost asleep again when Wanda speaks up in barely a whisper. You keep your eyes closed but you hum in response to what your wife says.

“I love you so much.”

If you weren’t so tired you’d turn around and kiss your wife, but you’re so comfortable right now that the idea of moving seems cruel. You take one of the hands at your stomach before bringing it to your lips with a smile that you’re sure Wanda can feel.

“Even if I can’t wear bikinis anymore?”

Wanda rolls her eyes behind closed lids and you hear the huff of amusement against your ear. It’s true that after the first few months of being completely healed, you’d been self-conscious of showing your scar. You didn’t want anyone’s pity, but you also didn’t want people you didn’t know to comment on it. Your lie was easy because you told the truth and said you were shot. Unfortunately, it’s not uncommon to be caught in a shooting nowadays and most people who have seen it believed that excuse.

Wanda just shakes her head as she kisses your neck and says the only thing she’s going to about this tonight.

“Oh you definitely still can, but only when I’m around so I can scare off anyone who looks at you for too long. “

You laugh in response to this before you imagine your wife with a very intimidating glare scare off anyone who tries to talk to you. It’s happened before and as amusing as it was, you’d dragged your wife back to your side and told her the many reasons why her efforts were unnecessary. Not only did you only want your wife’s attention, but the last time it had happened was a couple of weeks ago, and having your pregnant wife get worked up over strangers was more terrifying than entertaining.

“Thanks, Wands. Love you too.”

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #silver springs #silver springs drabble #silver springs au #mob au #fluff

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disturbedbeautywrites · 1 year

Text

Coming home - Bradley Bradshaw imagine

Warnings: this one was a tear jerker to write, but it’s super fluffy

Deployment, it was something that you knew you might have to deal with when you’re dating a military man. However, it wasn’t something you expected to be thrown face first into.

It has now been months since Bradley had been gone, your texts having stop delivering a long time ago. It had been hard, going from having him next to you and hearing his voice everyday to now just getting the occasional email. It was enough to almost feel maddening.. the loneliness and the quietness of the house, only being alleviated by the dog the two of you share.

“We just have another couple weeks, girl. We can do it.” You mumbled the words quietly, swallowing back tears as you buried your face into your dogs fur. Your hand found the fake dog tags Rooster had gotten you from a shop before he left, your fingers tracing over the cold metal as you felt the words he had engraved in it. You’re my forever. Love always, rooster. It got you choked up again, tears slipping down your cheeks as you curled up around the small canine laying next to you. You slowly fell asleep, drowsiness taking you over.

The next few weeks passed slowly, you trying to busy yourself with school work and hanging out with the other wives and girlfriends. You were especially close with Hangman’s wife; seeing as he was your best friend since childhood and he was the one who actually introduced you to Rooster. You were forever in his debt for that, but not having either of your boys there was even harder for you.

On the day that the deployment was over you and Hangman’s wife were buzzing with excitement. The two of you were getting ready together in your bathroom, nervous energy coming from you. She had done this before, many times. So, she was sympathetic for you going through this for the first time. “Hey, after my first deployment with Jake he actually proposed. Maybe he finally talked Bradley into asking you.” She elbowed you in the ribs, a laugh erupting from your lips. “Yeah, maybe.”

After a few hours the two of you were finally waiting for the boys, seeing them walk up and nearly jumping out of your skin. You could see Rooster in the distance, his eyes scanning the crowd for you and smiling once he found you. This was the first mission since his mom has passed that he had someone waiting for him, and honestly he could get used to the feeling. Hangman was standing next to him and you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell with pride at the two of them. You had gone through these with Jake before, but boyfriends and best friends are totally different deployment experiences. “Oh, I am so getting pregnant tonight.” You heard the words come out from the girl next to you, both of you erupting into laughter as you watched the dismissal finally happen.

You couldn’t feel your legs as you took off running with the rest of the spouses, your eyes trained on the brown haired boy in front of you. Before you knew it you were launching yourself into his arms, your legs coming up to wrap around his waist as your face buried into his neck. His cologne wrapped around you as his arms encircled you super tight, holding you to his chest. You had no words, happy tears rolling down your cheeks as you just held each other. “Hi, pretty girl.” You chuckled at your boyfriends words, mumbling a tearful hi back.

“Oh come on, no hug for your best friend?” You heard Jake’s voice, your eyes rolling as you looked up at him over Bradley’s shoulder. He wore a shit eating grin as he wrapped his arms around his wife. You shot him a glare and flipped him the bird. “I’m kinda busy here, bagman.” You felt Bradley’s body shake with a chuckle, his arms holding you tighter. “That’s my girl.”

“Please tell me you’re mine for a while now. I know I’m supposed to be strong, but that was rough.” Your voice cracked as the honest statement left your lips, tears slipping down your cheek as you buried your face into his shoulder again. His face softened as he held you even closer, if that was even possible. “I’m all yours until I have to go save the world again.” The inside joke between the two of you lingered in the air as he pressed a kiss to your hair. “Now let’s you get home, beautiful. We have a lot of time to make up for.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #Bradley Bradshaw imagines #Bradley Bradshaw fanfic #Bradley Bradshaw fluff #rooster fanfiction #rooster imagines #rooster imagine #rooster fanfic

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thedrarrylibrarian · 10 months

Text

I’ve thought long and hard about how I wanted to celebrate Pride month on this blog in 2023. My first year for Pride, I did a list of fics that were meaningful to me as a Queer person (just FYI - I identify as Bi and/or Queer. If reading the word Queer over and over is going to bother you, this post is not going to be for you). Last year, I did an inclusive list where I tried to find a fic to include every letter of LGBTQIA. But this year feels different, for a lot of reasons.

One is the ongoing homophobia and transphobia that the Queer community is facing, and very important to note, from J.K. Rowling in particular. A slew of new bills and laws that are designed to oppress, to eradicate, to force us back into closets, and to prevent anyone else from daring to leave the closet in the first place. Thankfully, in the US, they’re slowly being struck down but the heartache lingers.

Another reason this year feels different is because of some big changes in my personal life.

So, as I thought about how I wanted to celebrate Pride this month, I kept coming back to the thought of community. As lovely as fic recs are, and as much fun as I have writing them, it’s the community of creators and the friendships that I have found here that keep me involved in fandom.

As I was thinking about conversations that I’ve had about fandom friendships with @tackytigerfic and @babooshkart, I had the idea to reach out to them and other fandom friends to hear about their experiences and what keeps them in fandom. A beautiful thing happened — I asked one person to participate and they agreed, then recommended I ask another person. The next person also agreed, and had a suggestion of someone else I should ask. And on and on, until I was having lovely, in depth conversations with people I knew peripherally but hadn’t necessarily talked with before.

I first found fandom in 2013, through a chat room that has since been shut down. I was young, in college, reeling from a break up, and still trying to reconcile my conservative upbringing with these lovely, open, and accepting people that I’d found online who dared to be different and still so good in a way that I had never had the privilege of experiencing before. They answered my questions with patience, no matter how dumb or offensive they might’ve been, and were kind enough to ask gentle questions of their own.

Like so many others, I eventually realized I wasn’t as straight as my conservative, Christian upbringing would’ve liked me to believe.

It’s been ten years, and I still have friends that I regularly keep in contact with from that chat room. We’ve exchanged letters and cards, flown and driven across the country to hug each other, to go to each other’s weddings and stayed at each other’s houses. We don’t talk every single day like we used to, but I know that if I called them, they would answer and listen with every bit of love and patience that they gave me at the beginning. That means the world to me.

In those ten years, my circle of online friends has grown immensely. I love getting “Happy New Year!” messages all day from various time zones. I love that no matter what weird time of night I’m up, I’m never alone if I don’t want to be. I know the names of pets I will probably never meet and see dishes from kitchens around the world. All of these things bring joy into my life.

My partner and I moved across the country last year. It’s only a couple states difference on a map, but it’s 17 hours from my friends and family, and from the little in person Queer friend group that I had found. It’s a different culture, one that I’m still adapting to. We moved in early summer last year; my friends visited in June and we went to Pride events together, and I didn’t feel so alone. But now, a year later, it feels like forever since I’ve hugged them. It feels lonely sometimes, although I’m getting my feet under me again and finding different events to go to and organizations to join.

With all this real life change, fandom has been a lovely, stable rock in my life. No matter how godawful my day has been in my new job, I have online friends who cheer me up. I have people who message me and check on me, people who are excited to have those in depth, philosophical Queer conversations via discord messaging, even though we’re timezones apart and often messaging each other days later. These friendships have nourished my soul, sustained me, and I’m forever grateful for the way fandom has held its arms open for me.

So this Pride, instead of a themed rec list, I’m listening to and sharing other Queer creators about what fandom means to them. Stay tuned this week to see who else is sharing about what fandom means to them. We’re here, we’re Queer, and we’re supporting each other.

Much, much love,

The Drarry Librarian

#pride 2023 #drarry librarian #the drarry librarian #pride in the library #drarry librarian and pride #fandom community

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stvrlighttgabss · 26 days

Text

ALL MINE. (JJ MAYBANK)

notes☆: girl this took me wayy too long than it should have but i hope you enjoy it<33 thanks for requesting

@lavisenri

warnings☆: none !! just a lot of fluff

in which you're just oblivious to jj wanting your attention

It had been about an hour and a half now, (not that JJ was counting) since you had spoken to him.

You weren’t mad at him or anything like that, just too busy nestling the dachshund you were gifted for your birthday a couple of months earlier. The blonde boy hoped you would have noticed that he had been quiet for a while, not moving from his spot in the corner of the couch.

JJ finally attempted to get your attention, faking a coughing fit in the hopes that you would cast your otherworldly (in his eyes, at least) attention towards him.

Nope. Not even a glance.

JJ sighed before swiftly getting up, walking over to the couch you were turned over on.

As you rubbed the dog’s fur between your fingers, you suddenly felt a pair of warm arms pull you over. “JJ!”

“When are you going to put that dog down? You haven’t let it go for almost 2 hours now.”

Your eyes only widened as you stared into JJ’s deeper ones, staying silent as your puppy snuggled deeper into your side.

A couple of seconds passed before you burst into a fit of giggles as you held your hand against your mouth, unable to help yourself. You didn’t mean it in a mean way, not at all. But the realization as to why JJ was acting like this made you feel amused and appreciated all at the same time.

JJ frowned, narrowing his eyes slightly as he looked down at you. After collecting yourself, a ghost of a smirk painted your lips as you looked back at him.

“Are you jealous, JJ?”

Your satirical question caught the blonde pogue off guard, a dense blush spreading across his face as he stared at your pretty face. “What?! No.”

“Why would I be jealous of a dog?” JJ paused for a moment before shaking his head fervently, desperately trying to hide his child-like feelings from you.

You could only laugh as you shook your head, bringing his face down to yours. Giving him a light kiss on his cheek, as you let your small dog go and run off towards its bed. “Come here.”

JJ almost immediately followed your orders, practically collapsing into your open arms. His hands tangled themselves into the ends of his hair as he pressed the side of his face against your collarbone. His blonde hair tickled your chin as you stared down at him, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“If you wanted to hang out with me you could have just said so.” Both of you knew that he wouldn’t have said anything, regardless of how many times you’ve had this conversation. “I’m always gonna be yours.”

JJ just looked up at you again as you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Yeah yeah. Okay.” He would never admit wanting to spend time with you, no matter how long you had been together. His pride wouldn’t let him, both of you knew that, but that didn`t stop you from teasing him at any chance you got that night about him being jealous of your special dachshund.

But at the end of the day, he was always gonna be your first and only. Even if he pretended not to know it. “Love you, JJ.”

“Love you too.”

#˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✮ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ my work ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✮ ꒱ ˎˊ˗#stop i feel like this is so bad i can't 😭

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randomblog444 · 1 year

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I will never let anyone hurt you again

Dean Winchester x female singer reader

tw: injured reader, mentions of death, slight angst but fluff at the end

It’s been long, too long for him. She has never been away this long. After the heated argument the both of them had over a week ago, she left for a hunt; since then, there was no sign of her.

He thought of calling her multiple times, but his pride taking the best of him. Usually the both of them were inseparable, the past few months, he was different though. Not able to think straight when she was around, trying to avoid her, to just push this feeling, that has never been there before, into the back of his mind.

Stares lasting longer, than ever, emitting this tingling feeling in his stomach. But he couldn’t fall in love, that just wasn’t his thing. Their job coming with the chance of dying in every hunt, it would just hurt to loose her even more.

Next to his brother, she was the most important person in his life, the friendship of both of their fathers making it impossible to not spend time without each other. After the passing of Bobby, she decided to move into the bunker with the brothers, knowing that without them she would be completely alone. But Dean and her relationship was always different, closer than with his younger sibling.

That evening they argued, she had asked the question, that has lingered in her mind, ever since he started to act different. „Why do you avoid me all the time, have I done something wrong?“, never really having been able to control his feeling, he just let all his pent up feelings out, starting the argument.

After hours of screaming, she took off in her fathers car, he left after his passing. Knowing her, probably going on a hunt, because that is the thing she does when she is upset. That night when he went to bed, he couldn’t sleep, because of the feeling of regret that was filling up his stomach.

The ringing of his phone taking him out of his thoughts, putting the beer bottle out of his hand and taking his phone. Before he was able to say anything, the familiar voice he hadn’t heard in a couple of days, spoke on the other end.

„Hey Dean, I just wanted to let you know that I am in Downtown of Columbus, it is actually pretty nice here, the only thing that is bugging me is, that there is something stuck on my shoe and I haven’t been able to get rid of it“ her voice being to calm, he understood the thing she said immediately. „I am coming over immediately“ he said into the phone, asking her for her location.

He wasted no time jumping into his car and taking off. Sam had been on a hunt with Eileen, so he had to go alone; but he didn’t care, all he cared about was getting to the woman he deep down loved more than any person he has ever loved before.

After the drive, that took him way too long, he found the spot she sent her with ease, but to his misery she was nowhere to be found. Adrenalin rushing through his veins, thinking of the worst case scenario: her being dead just like almost everyone he loved before. He dialed her number, hoping for a sign of her to be alive, no one answered. Not wanting to give up yet, he dialed again, still no answer, but in the distance he could hear the ringtone, he heard in the bunker many times before.

His body acting faster than his mind, he rushed in the direction of the sound, finding the object with surprisingly easy. In front of an old barn, pretty far away from the city her phone laid in bush. Guessing that something bad happened, he pulled out his gun and quietly walked into the old wooden house. Inside he could hear unfamiliar voices, peeking around the corners he detected two men lingering over another person.

On a closer look he could immediately tell that the body, that was laying unconscious on the floor, was the woman he had been missing for the past few days. He wanted to run there, take down the men and save the person he swore to protect, but he knew he couldn’t, he had to find out what he was dealing with before he could try to kill the attackers in front of her.

Hiding behind the corner, he tried not to loose his mind. Taking another peek to the three people, he noticed that she slightly moved on the floor, relief flooding his body. They both lock eyes and a slight smile appeared on her blood smeared face. Her mouth starting to move, no sound coming out, so the men in front of her won’t notice.

„Vampires“ he could barely make out from the shape her lips made. Finally knowing what to do, he snuck out back to his car to get a machete. He would kill them, every single one of them, to save her; rushing back in, he didn’t care if he made any sound, the only thing he cared about was her.

Coming back in, one of the men were hovering over her, most likely wanting to suck her blood. She was trying to fight back, but she was visibly to weak to do so. „Hey you son of a bitch“ he screamed, taking the attention away from her to him. The fangs of the monsters appearing as they try to attack him.

His years of hunting experience making it easy to take down the blood suckers, face and body smeared with the blood of the men he just killed. Taking his attention back to the person he desired, he rushed over, picking her up and bringing her to the car. He wanted to take care of her wounds, and do everything he could to save her, but first he had to leave the place, before the other vampires from the nest came back.

Going over the speed limit he rushed away, to the next save place he could think of, parking his car next to a field. He turned around to the back seat, looking back at her, her wounds were bad, but she was alive. After further examination he was able to tell, that she wasn’t in danger of dying. She was still passed out as he started to tend her wounds the best he could.

Her eyes opened slowly, feeling hands over her body, first she was scared, thinking she was still captured by the vampires, but she quickly realized it was no monster. The touches starting to get softer, her wounds all bandaged up, he carefully took her into his arms. „I am so sorry, I will never let you go off alone again, I will never argue with you again, I will never let anyone hurt you again. I can’t let you die, you mean too much to me“ he whispered into the crown of her head in between small kisses.

She put her hands around him, pulling herself closer into his arms, pushing kisses into his chest. Realizing that she was alive and awake, he let tears of relief fall down his face. „I am alright Dean, I am alive“ she pushed away to look into his emerald green eyes. „Please don’t cry“ putting her hands on his face wiping his tears away.

Her being still exhausted, he drove to the closest motel, so she could regain some strength. Laying her down on the bed so she could sleep; he wanted to get some fresh air, get something to eat and drink for her. „Dean“ he heard the small voice behind him, „please, stay here with me“. He turned back around, laying his body next to her fragile one, she pulled herself back into his chest, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

And then he knew, he was in love, and no matter how hard he tried he could not get rid of his feelings for her. Brushing his fingers through her hair, trying to put her to sleep, so she could rest. „You know, I really thought I was gonna die back there“ she said while her eyes filled with tears.

The words sending a pain into his chest, he pulled back and looked deep into her eyes. „I would never let you die, I love you way too much for letting someone or something take you away from me“ he whispered and she knew, he meant every single word.

Putting together all her courage, she pressed her delicate lips to his, hoping he would return the kiss. Surprisingly he pulled away, not thinking she would return the feelings he hid for so long. „I was supposed to do that“ he said letting a light laugh escape from his lips.

She smiled too, „okay let’s just start again“ pulling back turning around, putting her back to his. „Do what you need to do, I will pretend to be surprised“ he heard coming from her. Carefully he turned her around, taking her chin into his fingers, pushing his lips against hers again. The kiss didn’t last long but they both knew, how much it meant to them.

„Oh my god, I didn’t expect you to do that“ she said sarcastically. „Shut up“ he answered with a big grin. They both continued to share more kisses, before falling asleep in each other’s arms; knowing that she is safe in his arms.

#Supernatural #supernatural ff #Supernatural fanfiction #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester supernatural #Dean Winchester ff #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Dean Winchester x reader #Dean Winchester fluff #Dean Winchester angst #fanfiction #fanfiction fluff #fanfiction angst #supernatural x reader #supernatural fluff #supernatural angst

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adorecline · 1 year

Note

hi boo!!! could you write abt falling asleep and cuddling with Eric Forman pls:) ❤️

Hi bebe, thank you for requesting! I hope you like it! Feel free to request again <3

Quiet {Eric Forman x Fem!Reader}

Summary: y/n finally finds the peace and quiet she's been craving.

Warnings: Mentions of divorce, fighting, toxic home life

i do not give anyone permission to copy or repost my work on here or any other websites. no translations either. likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Eric was laying in bed getting ready to go to sleep. He reached over to his bedside table to turn his lamp off.

Three knocks on the door made Eric jump and whip his head around. He looked at his window to see y/n, his girlfriend of 8 months, waving to him with an amused smile.

Eric got out of bed and pushed the window up letting y/n enter.

"Hey babe, what are you doing here so late?" Eric asked confused why y/n would be showing up at his window when she had just left a couple hours ago.

"I wanted to see you." y/n said leaning up to kiss him. "You want me to leave?"

"No, no, of course not." Eric reassured her. "It's just it's midnight, and I thought you went home?" He said observing her.

Her eyes were a little red and puffy like she had been crying, and they didn't have the same brightness they did early.

"I did." y/n nodded. "Don't really wanna be home right now though."

"Is everything okay?" Eric asked walking closer to her.

"Yeah, I'm fine." y/n smiled, but Eric knew better. He knew her. They had been dating for 8 months and had known each other since they were kids. Eric prided himself on knowing y/n.

"Really? Because you look like something's wrong." Eric pointed out. "Have you been crying?"

y/n took a deep breath before answering, "I'm fine, Eric. I swear."

"I don't believe you." Eric told her.

"Why not?" y/n scoffed.

"Because I know you," Eric said, "And I know when you're happy, sad, angry, jealous, whatever. I know you, and I know something's wrong, so please tell me what it is." He asked.

"It's not a big deal." y/n shook her head.

"Clearly it is if you're crying about it." Eric said. "Come on, babe. It's me."

"My parents just got into a little fight." y/n shrugged.

"A little fight?" Eric raised an eyebrow in question.

"Okay, it was a big fight. A big fight about how their marriage was a mistake and they should've never had a kid and made this life that neither of them wanted because now they're stuck with a life where they're miserable like they always feared."

Eric looked at her sadly. He hated to see her cry. He promised himself he would always make sure she was happy, and she clearly wasn't happy.

"It's gonna be okay, y/n." Eric told her. "I don't know what's gonna happen with you and your parents, but I know that you're gonna be okay."

"How?" y/n asked as Eric wrapped his arms around her.

"Because you've got me, and I'll always make sure you're okay." Eric told her.

y/n's lips twitched into a comforted smile. She wrapped her arms around Eric's torso and pulled him as close as she could.

"Wanna go to sleep?" Eric asked looking down at her. y/n nodded, and Eric pulled her over to his bed.

The two laid down together. y/n cuddled into Eric's chest listening to his heartbeat. She smiled at the warm feeling in her chest from Eric's embrace.

"I love you, Eric." y/n whispered.

"I love you, too, y/n." Eric kissed her head softly.

y/n fell asleep in the peaceful silence as Eric rubbed her back slowly. She held a content look on her face as she could finally relax.

#widowswrld #x reader #that 70s show #that 70s show imagines #eric forman #steven hyde #donna pinciotti #jackie burkhart #michael kelso

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bas-writes · 2 years

Text

a/n: so, decided to dip my toes in something new, took part in @onepiece-reader-exchange and scribbled this little thing :3 got 3 prompts to choose from, but they were so vague that I decided to play a barista and blended them together. thank you so much, @mysticaltigersorceress for beta reading and @heyitsdoe for romantic level check!

The Edge of Vision

Character: Mihawk Reader: female (suitable for trans readers) CW: mature reader (implied similar age to Mihawk), reader is a pirate captain, long-distance relationship, long-term relationship, reunion, longing, power couple, Mihawk's pov Word Count: 2112 Synopsis: He can sense your aura, color of observation polished to impossibly sharp edges could never deceive him. But will he find you familiar, will the last puzzle of vivid memories click in its place, filling the heart he oh so unaware kept empty for all those months he didn’t care to—he feared to—count? Afterglow of your face dances in his eyes, the more clear the stronger the pull of the vivre card grows. Lines blurry, colors blank, the image slowly fills with your presence, droplet by droplet, until you turn to him and your eyes meet, and everything finally comes home. Written for: @ilibili

Vibrations in his pocket have become significantly palpable once Mihawk marched out of the docks. He expected if and, frankly, would have lied, if that said hope was not blowing his soul apart. He’s been following the vivre card for weeks now; not all intentionally, it happened to follow the path he chose—but once he felt its characteristic little pulling sewed in the brim of his coat, he’s been nothing but tense anticipation, stubbornly keeping eye on its slightest flicker. Island by island, town by town, he’s become sure your roads are going to cross again, for the first time since—

He’s never been keen to count useless days, but he knows it’s been long. Way too long.

The island is widely known, especially among the pirates and all outlaws, but it’s the first time he’s here, as far as he can be certain within meanders of his sanity. Yet, each step feels like carved into Mihawk’s mind, non-existent memories vivid between badly-lit streets. He remembers that day better than the last hours spent together. He remembers so well that a glimpse of his reflection gives him a little startle: facial hair, bigger muscle mass and all the little wrinkles suddenly so unfamiliar. Only the sword remains the same; the world might be turning upside down around him, but Yoru is eternal, towering over him with the whole power and glory of a black blade. Except he’s not slouching under its weight anymore, his back and shoulders straight and strong as his will. He trained hard for this, pretending even harder it was not to dull your teasing, pricking his pride with needles more painful than cuts, bruises and exertion.

How insignificant they feel now, he realizes with a faint smile, all those rough advances he still remembers, together with strain in muscles and burning in blushing ears. Words a man would easily shrug off ground into a lanky teen who barely could call himself a swordsman, even if bent under a sword as long as him. If only he wasn’t followed by a half-wild sea child, that female pirate he had run into the docks and couldn’t get lost between narrow streets of the town.

What a blessing he couldn’t. Otherwise, he would have never sewn your vivre card into his coat.

Its pulse leads him to the more presentable district. A smirk plasters itself to his stoic face at the sight, the feeling of frozen time even more palpable and eerie now. Not the pirate land anymore but townsfolk domain, the streets are busier and thicker, early evening crowd even pressing on him as he squelches through dreams and reality towards the signboard that has filled his heart with merry nostalgia.

Such coincidences can happen only on Grandline.

Mihawk pushes the door, its heavy wood groans, chimes in the frame click, announcing his presence. The inside is not so far brighter than the streets, dusty lamps unable to uncover corners and vennels between shelves. Ignoring the vendor with mutual disinterest, he squeezes himself in, ungainly, between bags of tea, herbs and plants. It’s hard to breathe, with the spiced scent dancing in his nostrils, with chest clenched in excitement. He’s a boy and a man all at once; steps simmer under him, leading him in unwitting cooperation with the vivre card, shelf by shelf engulfing him with mixed feelings nearly tearing him apart.

Will he recognize you?

He can sense your aura, color of observation polished to impossibly sharp edges could never deceive him. But will he find you familiar, will the last puzzle of vivid memories click in its place, filling the heart he oh so unaware kept empty for all those months he didn’t care to—he feared to—count? Afterglow of your face dances in his eyes, the more clear the stronger the pull of the vivre card grows. Lines blurry, colors blank, the image slowly fills with your presence, droplet by droplet, until you turn to him and your eyes meet, and everything finally comes home.

You look at him from the same angle he remembered, all the so known and loved quirks blooming on your face, voice barely louder than a whisper yet rumbling in his ears, “So you found me.”

“I found you.”

“Took you long enough.” A bag of tea rustles in your hands as you approach, all confident and relaxed—but tense in his eyes. The closer you get, the harder it is to breathe for Mihawk, pulse of rushing blood nearly blocking his vision and hearing. “A day or two longer and I’d pack the boys back and sail…gods-of-sea-know-where. Always fashionably late, aren’t ya, Hawk Eyes?”

“Always fashionably right where and when I should be.” Mihawk’s hand doesn’t even budge when touching you, but the feel of your shirt has him nearly burning. He can, see and sense, the time that has treated you, but regardless, everything is still the same as he left it, ages ago, behind the door of the cabin of your ship he closed behind his back early in the morning. “I’m glad to see you too.”

“I wish I could say: you haven’t changed at all. But you have. You have grown old and boring.” There’s a fold on the collar of his coat and you immediately spot it, resmoothing scolding and tender—and as playful as light in your eyes. “A government’s dog? Where did they find a collar tight enough to keep you on a leash?”

“If we’re already talking of growing old—” he can’t resist an eyeroll and a displeased scowl— “aren’t we both too old for such childish needling?”

“Always so responsive to teasing, hm?” Your smile…Mihawk has no memory of missing it even for a split second, but yearning hits him with such force he feels lightheaded for the moment it blooms on your face. “Maybe after all something hasn’t changed in you.”

The clicking of your shoes is nearly hypnotizing as you carry your chosen tea to the counter. Gaze piercing your back, all stoic and motionless, Mihawk forces all of his nerves to stay calm and yet, his soul and mind are being pulled together with the little piece of paper vibrating on his chest. Twenty years ago he would, simply as that, kidnap you into his arms, right here, in front of merchandise, dust and the half-asleep vendor. The present him still doesn’t care for the world around—but he has learnt his patience and your nonverbal whims. You keep your distance, for some reason, so he respects it, despite longing, and pain, and a desperate thirst for your scent, for your breath, for your body, for you. Heels grounded, he stands, stares and waits, like a dog indeed, on a leash far more powerful than any government could ever hold.

“You smell of sea,” you coo as he opens the door for you. With grace and elegance one could never expect from a pirate you link arm with his, entrusting him with the lead, but leaving no doubt where you want to head. “You came to the tea shop straight out of the docks? Still sailing that coffin of yours?”

“It’s practical.” He can’t help rolling eyes a little, the tips of his ears burning in the familiar but nearly forgotten way.

“Not when you want to make out in it.” The weight of your body on the inner side of his elbow shakes with laughter. “Remember, how many times have we ended up in water?”

“There’s a reason why I prefer your ship for that.”

“It’s been less than fifteen minutes and you’re already dragging me to the cabin? You brute…”

Yes, he’s been yearning for it, for the banter and the warmth of your body pressed to his. How could he live and sail so long without it? He was asking himself this question every time you parted for longer—and he knows he’s going to ask it once your paths untangle again. But now, right now and right here, you’re his again, shattered pieces have become one, pulled together by magnetic force. Old friends and old lovers, strolling aimlessly through the pirate paradise, on the thin line between no-law’s-land and calm town, on the even thinner line between day and dusk.

You smell of tea, of a long day in the port, of yourself, above all, and Mihawk wants no other air than one full of all of that.

“Was sure you’re going to catch me in Nanohana?” As if the sight of ships dragged your attention back to the abandoned topic, you break your restless teasing once the both of you enter the boardwalk. “But vivre card pulled to the west—”

“Turning east.” He says, simply as that, eyes fixed on the horizon, to not look at you, to not cave the temptation to claim you his right as you’re standing.

“Sniffing at the entrance of Paradise? That’s new… Thought you’re not interested in hunting rookies.”

“Times change, ain’t they? I would never suspect I’d find you that far west.”

The weight of your gaze forces Mihawk to cross eyes with yours, warmth in your faces taking him aback.

“Have some business on Sabaody, old crap to solve,” you confess, nearly playfully. “And then…why not, I’ll try again.”

Concern and pride are such similar feelings, he realizes as his heart clenches, “Again with the New World?”

“The third time’s the charm. If not now, then when?” The softness of your fingers threading through his sideburns has him melting, only sheer force of will keeping him together now. “Last time I was still too inexperienced. A few years more and my body won’t keep with the power I gathered.”

A loud horn of the docking ship forces you to take a break, seriousness melting away to give place to the smile he loves so much, “We’re in the perfect age to go crazy, Mihawk, and I ain’t wasting that golden moment.”

You’ve never been one to waste anything, he thinks, screams internally, eyes following the curve of your lips. Its softness, taste… Does he remember it right? Does he remember it at all?

“You’re still that innocent, shy boy under all those layers of refinement and distance, ain’t ya?”

“Well, you’re still that troublesome brat under all those layers of teasing and maturity.”

He can’t control himself any longer, not with the glimpse of your toothy grin, not with the welcoming tilt of head, not with the sleeve of shirt rolling up, revealing the same tattoo he carries on his wrist. Your hand in his is so soft, surprisingly fragile with its craft and experience of a pirate. Electric shock runs through his body, slightly salty taste of your skin driving him crazy as he skims it with lips, patiently crawling towards the inked place. Your smell is stronger there, he pulls your wrist close and inhales, gets drunk with it, trembles under the weight of yearning and anticipation.

Your lips are next and he’s simply drowning.

He remembered, remembered it all and right—and still, is not ready, he could have never been. If not for a strong hold on your waist, he would fall on his knees; it’s so intense and sweet, and intoxicating, the way you lead and allow, the taste he dreamed of without, the softness he cried for without tears. You cling to him, desperate and overwhelmed the same way, vivre card in his coat goes crazy when your hands clench and pull, seeking more.

You belong here, in his arms. And no time spent apart can change it.

Breathing against your lips, not pulling away yet, Mihawk realizes he’s laughing, a little, relief and amusement showing in his eyes, breaking the distanced, well-balanced cover he keeps on aside from the rare moments with you, the love of his life.

“I swear, you’re getting better with this every time we meet again,” you nudge him and smirk. “With whom you’re training, hm?”

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Y/N,” he lets the teasing timbre show in his voice as well, your mood wrapping him all around your finger.

“I intend to be very jealous throughout the whole stay—” Your fingers smooth the crumpled front of his coat— “unless you will properly apologize and make up for the lost time.”

Your laughter attracts gazes as he kidnaps you in his arms, as he wanted from the very beginning, with little care for everything around, your pretended outrage included, “After all this time, still flustered when I’m doing this? Y/N, we’re not fifteen…”

“And that’s why I’ll break up with you if you even think about taking me to that edgy dinghy of yours.”

“How would I dare.”

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whiskey-tango-matcha · 1 year

Text

Long Day, Late Night (m)

Guys, idk what to say, clearly I’m going through a bit of a ~writing hyperfixation~ so please have this 2.5k mishmash I couldn’t get out of my mind even though I literally just posted a fic yesterday.

This one is Greyson-centric, and takes place even earlier than the last one - like just a couple months after Greyson started at the restaurant (btw, the restaurant name is Elliot’s, which you find out in this story). It’s the first time Greyson is sick at work and Elijah is *oblivious*. I hope you like it, as always I’m not about to read it before I post it so you get what you get lmao. Also as always, I love and am obsessed with you all mwah mwah ok here’s the story gtg BYE

cw: male, cold, coughing

Long Day, Late Night

The only small mercy Greyson could think of was that this didn’t happen often.

In fact, Greyson couldn’t think of the last time he’d felt this shitty. It certainly hadn’t been in at least a year; definitely not since he’d started at Elliot’s. He cursed the unspoken chef rule of never calling out, never admitting defeat, and powering through everything; maybe he should’ve taken his mother’s advice and gone into accounting. Greyson seriously doubted that accountants prided themselves on going to work sick.

Greyson pushed through the back doors of the kitchen, squinting at the bright fluorescent lights against a killer headache. Silently, he said a prayer to the universe that today would be an easy day. They had a table of 15 that was supposed to occupy most of the evening – thank god, he found himself thinking. Maybe I can get out of here early.

“Chef,” Elijah greeted Greyson as the chef walked into the office and slammed down his backpack. The GM was fervently typing out a text message, a look of frustration obvious on his face. Greyson yanked off his sweatshirt and pulled his chef’s coat off the back of his chair before returning Elijah’s greeting.

“Boss,” he said, straining against a painfully sore throat. Elijah sighed, clicking his phone off and regarding the chef once again.

“We have a problem,” Elijah said, rubbing a hand down his face. Greyson froze in the midst of buttoning his coat; those were certainly words you didn’t ever want to hear from your boss in your relatively-new position.

“Problemb being…?” Greyson asked, cringing inwardly at the congestion he could already hear in his voice. Fortunately for him, Elijah either didn’t notice or ignored it.

“The fifteen top,” Elijah said, pulling up their reservations on the computer. Greyson peeked over his shoulder and widened his eyes when he saw it.

“Forty?” Greyson asked, incredulous. “Since when has it gone up to forty?”

Elijah sighed again, defeated, and turned back to the chef. “An hour ago they called and asked if they could up their reservation; the hostess answered.”

“The ndew girl? With half a brain and huge tits?”

Elijah snorted. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

“Fuck me, Boss. Tell mbe you called them back and said we can’t do it.”

Elijah winced. “That’s the thing, Chef. It wasn’t them who called; it was the concierge at their hotel. They’re out all day, won’t be back to the hotel until after dinner. So…”

“So we can’t change it,” Greyson groaned. “Fuck. I mean, I don’t know if I even ha – ahh...ahhHSTSHH-ue! NGTSHH-oo! Snrf.” Greyson covered his nose with one hand and snatched a tissue from his and Elijah’s shared desk with the other. He cleaned himself up and crumpled the tissue in his hand before finishing. “I don’t evend kndow if I have enough product.”

“Bless,” Elijah said, distracted. “I know. It’s fucked, and I’m sorry. If we have to change their menu, we can. I’m here for you, chef. I’ll even throw on an apron if you need.”

Greyson groaned once again; of course this would happen today, of all days. The day he woke up aching and congested and with his throat on fire. The one day in his almost-three-months at his new job where he wasn’t planning on working fifteen hours. Greyson bit his cheek against the frustration he felt building inside him and turned back to his boss.

“It’s ok,” he said, attempting a smile. He clapped a hand onto his boss’s shoulder and grabbed his knife bag. “We’ll mbake it work. Thanks for the offer, b – HNGSTH-ue! HRSHH! HFTSHH! Huhhh...Hhh...hnnn.” Greyson swore from the crook of his elbow, cursing that final stuck sneeze. He grabbed another tissue, before thinking twice and grabbing the whole box to take with him.

“Bless, chef. And thank you, you’re a beast,” Elijah said, turning back to the computer once again. “Oh, and one more thing: we still have that tasting with the owners of that winery upstate today. They’ll be in at two – can you still come taste with me?”

Greyson raised an eyebrow and sucked in through his stuffed-up nose again. “Uh. Sure, boss. I’ll mbake it a priority.”

“Appreciate it,” Elijah said, turning to smile at the chef for a moment. “Let me know if you need anything from me.”

***

It wasn’t that Greyson was mad; it wasn’t even that he was disappointed. If anything, Greyson was just...confused.

Don’t get him wrong, Greyson was usually the first person to deny a cold. But he’d known from the moment he opened his eyes that this was no cold; he’d felt the snake-like chokehold of a fever almost immediately, and he’d devolved from a slightly stuffed nose at seven am to near-constant sneezing fits by ten. His throat was nearly closed with pain, and he could already tell that the cough was going to be a problem. He didn’t expect sympathy from his boss, but...some acknowledgment of the fact that he was clearly ill would’ve been nice.

“Huhh...NGSTHH-uhh! HehhGTZSH-ue! Fuckigg hell.” Greyson grabbed yet another tissue from the box he’d placed on his prep station and blew his nose again. His cooks had begun filing in for their shifts, and every one of them had cringed at their chef’s appearance on seeing him.

“Wow, chef,” his sous chef, Matt, had said when he joined his boss at the prep station. “That’s dedication.”

Greyson had made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat before tossing the tissue and washing his hands. “Ndo choice,” Greyson said, turning to cough into his elbow. When the coughing fit finally subsided, he turned back to Matt. “Fifteend-top’s forty ndow.”

“Oh, Christ,” Matt said, unpacking his knives. “Of course it is. What should I jump on?”

“Butcher the filets, please,” Greyson said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’ll be mince mbeat if I try to do themb like this.”

“On it,” Matt said, putting his bag under the table. “You take anything for that?” he asked.

Greyson shook his head. “Ndo timbe. I’ve beend prepping since literally the mboment I walked in.” He started coughing again and Matt raised his eyebrows before striding into the server’s station. He returned a few minutes later with a steaming cup and a handful of pills.

“That’s what the servers have; not sure what they all are but it couldn’t hurt to just take them all,” Matt said, handing them and the cup of tea over to his boss. Greyson choked out a laugh.

“I feel like if anything could hurt it’s taking a savage handful of mbystery pills,” he said, tossing them all into his mouth and swallowing with a mouthful of tea. “But I’mb ndot too proud to admit when I’m desperate.”

“Chef!” Elijah called suddenly, bursting through the kitchen doors, obviously on a mission. “The people from the winery are here. Can you break away for a bit?”

Matt raised an eyebrow at Greyson, who just sighed in return. He turned towards Elijah, who was once again texting someone fervently. “Yeah boss, coming,” he said. When Elijah breezed through the doors into the dining room, Greyson turned back to his sous.

“Hold down the fort for mbe?” he asked. Matt huffed out an amused laugh.

“Sure thing, chef. Good luck, uh, tasting wine.”

“‘Tasting’ will be a strong word for it,” Greyson mumbled, untying his apron and pushing through the kitchen door.

Seated at the corner table was Elijah, a man and woman who looked to be a couple, and about thirty bottles of wine. Greyson’s head pounded at the sight of it, but he took his seat next to Elijah all the same.

“There he is, the man of the hour!” Elijah clapped Greyson on the back as he sat down, and Greyson nodded toward their guests.

“A pleasure,” he said, his voice gravelly. He cleared his throat and asked, “What’re we drinking?”

***

Greyson looked down at his watch for about the tenth time since they had sat down an hour ago. Elijah, taking notice of at least one thing about Greyson, nudged him toward the kitchen.

“Alright, Chef, thanks for your input,” Elijah said, then regarded the winemakers. “He has a big night tonight. Back to the grind, right, Chef?”

“Yeah,” Greyson said, pushing back from his seat. “Thangks, guys. Great wine. Hopefully we can make sombething work out.”

The winemakers smiled back at him easily; the woman of the couple held her glass up as if to toast Greyson. “Cheers, Chef. Hope you’re feeling better soon.”

Greyson colored, and Elijah whipped towards the chef, confused, but neither of them seemed to dissuade the woman’s partner from tacking on his own sympathies. “That sounds like one hell of a cold.”

Greyson meant to deny their accusation, or at least thank them for their kindness, but was rudely interrupted by his nose. “I – HNGSTHH-uhhnn. GTSHH! HehhITSZCHUE! Snrf.” Greyson coughed a little, if only to clear his throat, and shrugged sheepishly.

“Safe travels back,” he said in return, and headed back towards the kitchen.

Once inside, Greyson ducked into his and Elijah’s office and slammed the door shut. He’d done his damnedest to keep his symptoms under control around their guests, but now the floodgates had opened he really fucking needed to – to…

“HNGSTHH-ue! HTSZCH-ue! Huhh...nggg. Huh, huhhhHHHHUHESTZCCHUE! ETSHCCHUE! GTSCHZUE! Fuckigg – HTSHHCHUE!”

Greyson pulled a few tissues out of the box on their desk and blew his nose, thoroughly spent. This is hell, he thought, putting his head in his hands. I’ve died and gone straight to fucking hell.

He considered maybe just crawling under the desk right then and there, cocooning until he was no longer the walking plague, when someone quietly rapped on the door.

Go away, Greyson thought, but whoever it was opened the door before he could say anything. When he looked up, Elijah was standing over him, a look of confused worry on his face.

“Um,” he said, stepping into the office and closing the door behind him. “Are you...ok?”

Greyson felt his face flame once again, his embarrassment near-palpable. Was he okay? Did he look okay? Did he sound okay? For the first time all day, Greyson felt something other than the depth of his illness; he felt livid.

“Yeah, boss,” he snorted, making himself cough hard into his arm. He sucked in through his nose and stood to tower over Elijah, his watering eyes glaring daggers. “I’mb great.”

Greyson pushed past his boss, threw open the door, and headed straight into the deep frezzer to take some breaths and collect himself. The frigid air was a slap in the face, and it gave him the clarity he needed. He may not even be a blip on his boss’s radar; that was fine. He would work even harder, then – make his name even quicker and get the hell out of Elliot’s as soon as was humanly possible. Get the fuck away from this restaurant and its haughty, clueless, thoughtless owner.

The chef pulled himself together as much as he could and stepped out of the freezer. Elijah was, of course, standing right outside the walk-in.

“Chef,” he said quickly, clearly attempting to get his point across before Greyson pushed past him again. “You could’ve told me if you’re sick – I mean, I could’ve called in backup, or closed reservations…” he looked up at Greyson then, apology plastered all over his face. Greyson wasn’t taking the bait.

“Too late ndow,” he mumbled, checking his watch. “Service starts in an hour. Please; I dond’t have timbe for this.”

Once again, Greyson pushed past his boss. He made his way back to the prep table and picked his knife up, before regarding Matt.

“Tell mbe what you ndeed from mbe.”

***

Service was, to put it lightly, hell.

The forty top had gone fine, as well as could’ve been expected, and fortunately there weren’t any problems or send-backs, but Greyson was in absolute agony the entire time. He couldn’t breathe, his voice was mangled from shouting orders, and he was pretty sure he’d infected his entire staff with the insane amount of sneezing he’d done.

The moment the last ticket was stabbed, Greyson put a hand on Matt’s back and said, “You’re up. I ndeed to sit down like...now.”

Matt nodded in understanding and stepped up to the line to make sure the cooks started breaking everything down. Greyson, alternatively, tripped into the office and immediately put his throbbing head into his hands and let loose the coughing fit he’d held back the last four hours.

In the midst of coughing, Greyson heard someone quietly enter the office and sit in the chair next to him. Then he heard something else; a paper cup being placed on the desk next to him. Greyson looked up to see Elijah sitting beside him, quiet. Greyson sighed.

“I’ll pack mby shidt,” he said, rubbing an aching eye with his palm. “I’mb sure you already have sombeone lined up, but I’d be happy to spend a day just showing themb the ropes or whatev -”

Greyson was cut up by his boss reaching up mid-sentence and placing a cool hand on his forehead. Greyson couldn’t help it; he closed his eyes in relief.

“You’re burning up, Greyson,” Elijah said quietly. “Have you had a fever all day?”

The chef wasn’t sure what to say. He shrugged. “I guess,” he said quietly, his boss’s hand still on his forehead. Elijah pursed his lips and took his hand away. Unsure what to do with it, he pushed the cup closer to Greyson.

“Tea,” he said, as if it wasn’t obvious. Greyson couldn’t help but huff out a laugh.

“Okay,” he said, taking the cup. They both sat in silence for another moment, which was only broken by Greyson’s breath hitching for the millionth time that day. “Huhh..hhhNGTSHH-ue! Guhhh.” Greyson grabbed the last couple of tissues out of the box and blew his nose, miserably.

“Bless you,” Elijah said, clearly still unsure what else to say.

“Thangks,” Greyson said, crumpling the tissue and looking back at his boss. “So...am I ndot fired then?”

Elijah chuckled and looked up at Greyson again. “You’re not fired.”

“Okay,” Greyson said again.

After another beat, Elijah blurted out, “I’m sorry. Greyson, I’m really, really sorry.”

Greyson wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Umb,” he said, brilliantly. “Okay.”

“Sometimes I’m just, like, in my own world, y’know? The restaurant...it’s all-consuming, man. I’m always fuckin’ worried about it, and it just gets exhausting. I wish I had more patience and was, like, more...observant. But,” he shrugged. “I’m just...not. So I’m sorry. I’ll try harder.” Elijah sighed, post-speech, and gave Greyson a small smile. “And I’m sorry you’re so fucking sick. You look like hell.”

Greyson set his jaw then, and looked down. He was absolutely not about to let his boss see him tear up, especially not at something so fucking stupid. Instead, he took the cup of tea and sipped it slowly. “I appreciate it, boss,” he whispered. “I’mb, uh… I’mb ndot feeling awesome.” He looked up, having composed himself, and gave Elijah a loopy half-smile. “Long day. Late ndight.”

Elijah smiled back and patted the chef’s knee. “Take the weekend. Okay?”

Greyson swallowed painfully and nodded. “Okay, boss,” he said. “Whatever you say.”

#snz #snzkink #snz kink #snzfic #snz fic #sickfic #coldfic #male cold #original charater #snez #snzblr #snz blog #whiskeyswriting #damn this got sappy as hell #and long lmao #idk the way ive been going i guess ill see you guys with another fic in two days lolllll

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