#anyway completely missed opportunity on the show to have chanel be the STAR OF THE SHOW lmfao so here she is in all her glory i love her

[possibilistfanfiction]

legitimately fuckin obsessed with the avatrice football au my dude. that last snippet brought me pure JOY im tellin you what

[well here's some ava pov while i procrastinate ch3 plot lol, s/o to @unicyclehippo for the worst/best gay pun of all time, love u. honestly this is long enough to put on ao3 so ... i'll do that in a footy au series i suppose for context... justice for chanel lol]

///

waking up from your first surgery is a blur, mostly an inexplicable terror when you can’t feel your legs, when you can barely move your fingers. tears leak from your eyes and you can’t wipe them, can only let them roll down into your temples. but then there’s a hand in yours, and chanel’s comforting touch, her voice soft.

‘it’ll be okay, ava,’ she says.

it won’t be okay, you’re certain of it, because you’d been taken straight from the field to the hospital, and then right into surgery, your kit cut off so that they didn’t move your spine more than you already had. you love football; you love football, the feeling of being so at home in your body, the feeling of going fast and the delight of the burn in your muscles, of not being afraid of anything.

‘i’m really scared.’ you look at chanel, showered and gorgeous, in a team issued bomber that seems impossibly elegant, even now. 

‘yeah,’ she grants, swipes her thumb against your cheeks and into your hair, catching your tears. she grabs a tissue and wipes your nose, which, from anyone else, would be absolutely horrifying, but she does it with so little fanfare and you’re in pain and also not pain — the worse option — you can’t even really care. she’s your favorite teammate: kind and brave and funny. she’s your friend. ’you’re gonna get through this, though.’

‘i don’t — i don’t want to.’

you don’t even quite know what you mean, still out of it because of pain meds and anesthesia, but chanel sighs gently.

‘you will. one day, you will.’

/

you don’t, not for a long time. after your fifth surgery you kind of tell yourself that you’ve definitely given up on football; they move you to a long-term rehab facility specifically for spine injuries, which is better than the hospital for sure, but it’s still hours and hours of physical and occupational therapy that leaves you feeling discouraged more often that not. once the inflammation starts to go down in your spine, you start to, at least, regain some function in your arms and hands, and after your sixth surgery, things are, you’ll admit, more hopeful. at the very least, you’ll be able to do things like use a manual chair and cook and type emails. 

you’re not great at texting yet; your occupational therapist is always telling you that if you worked on writing, and holding cutlery, and even more boring, pointless shit like pick up sticks, you’d have an easier time, but, whatever, you can type with the pointer finger of your right hand and it gets the job done. chanel visits as often as she can, most days in the late morning, which feels particularly generous in the off season when she could be being glamorous somewhere else, probably invited to paris fashion week or something. she brings makeup — expensive, beautiful makeup — and doesn’t seem to care when you clumsily fuck up lipstick or poke your eye with a mascara wand. you know she brings it so you actually do your occupational therapy exercises, but she also brings you changes of comfortable clothes and washes your hair gently every few days. she lies back in bed with you, long limbed and beautiful, and watches matches when you don’t feel too sad. 

a few days after your eighth surgery, your last, according to your neurosurgeon, you wear a giant back brace over your beatrice xin jersey, your favorite player to watch, and your physical therapy team gets you strapped into this harness that connects to the ceiling so you can try to walk on the treadmill and for sure won’t fall. it kind of feels like you’re doing a stunt or something, and chanel stands there and indulges you with a smile while you make all of your best ‘strapped into a harness’ jokes.

and then — you do walk. it’s slow going, the treadmill barely moving, and your legs feel sluggish and so weak and almost not like your own. it’s been two months since you took a step and it feels like a fucking miracle. chanel wipes a tear or two from her own eyes, even though you can only walk for five minutes and are sweating kind of profusely — it’s a fucking miracle, and she understands it too. 

/

‘what are you frowning at?’

she rolls her eyes and pockets her phone, easily pedaling with insane resistance on the peleton next to you while you struggle to get your legs to listen to your brain and pedal at all. ‘idiot bros on twitter. “trans women don’t belong in women’s sports” and all that bullshit.’

you stop trying to pedal because you’re already entirely unsuccessful today and now you’re not able to focus at all. ‘fuck them.’

she grins. ‘yeah.’

‘i’ll beat them up, just you watch.’

it makes her laugh, and you think she knows you really would physically get into a fight — on or off the field — if anyone ever said anything to her. 

‘plus, i can take you 1v1.’

‘in your dreams, silva.’

‘i’m going to, again. don’t even think i won’t.’

chanel pats your hand; you feel it all. ‘i’ve always known you could do it. i’ve never thought you wouldn’t, ava.’

you duck your head, unused to genuine praise after all this time stuck in the same boring, discouraging, painful rooms at the spine center, even though all of your doctors and nurses and therapists had been nice.

‘but,’ she says, ‘first you gotta pedal on this bike.’

‘it’s hard,’ you whine.

‘you’re just distracted.’

you look at the game you’d turned on, beatrice xin currently with two goals and two assists, and sigh. ‘i’m horny.’

it gets the biggest, best laugh out of chanel, and you feel a little something like pride bloom in your chest: you love making people you care about laugh. 

‘fine, fine,’ you grumble. you look down at your feet, your quads and calves so small and pale compared to six months ago; you try to breathe through the immediate fear and the tiny bit of shame that pops up. but you focus, feel your feet firmly on the pedals, think about how you know how to ride a bike; you know how to stand up straight and put on pants and kick a ball. the back brace you have on feels tight, feels restricting — but you focus on activating your quads, then your hamstrings, and you eventually get the pedals to move.

‘hell yeah,’ chanel says.

‘if you try to give me a high five right now i think i’ll get all scrambled if i try to move my hand.’

she laughs, reaches over and pats the top of your head instead. 

/

‘ava silva,’ chanel says, and you grin; you can’t help it. she holds her phone at a, thankfully, flattering angle as you walk along the beach — slowly, but steady: you trust you won’t fall, that you’re strong enough and getting stronger. ‘what does freedom feel like?’

chanel has like… three million followers, and she loves social media, something that your old club has always been thrilled about. they hadn’t renewed your contract, but you’d understood; they’re still paying for all of your medical care, so you don’t really feel upset, just a sense of loss you’re not quite ready to name. but chanel loves you, and she’s so, so happy for you — even if you never play again, you’re walking and even starting to run now; you’re in pain but it’s manageable. it’s okay.

‘it feels —‘ euphoric; devastating — ‘like a miracle.’

/

you flop down on chanel’s neatly made and extravagent bed; you’ve been staying in her guest room — which she had turned into her closet, so it’s still kind of packed with all of her beautiful clothes, although there is a very expensive bed for you — and training until, hopefully, you can get signed somewhere. she doesn’t even look up from her ipad when you sigh. ‘hello, ava.’

‘i have a favor to ask that i actually think you’ll be interested in.’

she pauses whatever she’s doing, then looks up. ‘i’m listening.’

‘well! okay, so. as you know, i’ve basically only worn hospital gowns and sweats for the last year and a half, and before that, i was, like, a child.’

chanel perks up, and you can practically see the wheels in her head turning already.

‘and now, wherever i get signed, you know, people are gonna care, and want interviews and all this stuff. so, in small part, i want to feel good about how i look for this next chapter of football.’

‘i love it,’ she says. ‘and what’s the large part?’

you flop back again, just for the dramatics. ‘i am… so horny. like, you don’t even understand.’

she laughs. ‘JC is nice though, right?’

‘yeah,’ you say, because he is. ‘but, like, girls.’

she pauses for a second, a happy smile on her face. ‘so, you want to look… more… bisexual?’

‘i mean, i do already? because i am? right?’

‘well, of course, ava.’ it’s gentle and reassuring but still a little amused.

‘but — yeah. like, i want to pick stuff i love, my clothes and my hair and whatever, gain back control, blah blah, everything my therapist is always going on about.’

‘your therapist is great, you love her.’

‘sure.’ she is; you do. ‘so anyway, i just — i guess i just want to feel like myself.’

‘now that,’ chanel says, ‘is a favor i love.’

/

‘you’re sure?’

‘it doesn’t matter if i’m sure,’ chanel says, sitting in the hairdresser’s chair next to yours. you have the salon to yourselves; she’d booked you a private appointment with her hairstylist immediately.

you turn to said stylist, dimitri, with their chic and very neat fade. ‘are you sure?’

‘like chanel said,’ they say. ‘it only matters what you want. we don’t have to do anything big.’

you look in the mirror; you hadn’t had the real opportunity to get a haircut in a long time, being in the hospital and rehab and then spending as much time as you could training after that. you haven’t, really, taken the time to deeply care for yourself, something your therapist has been bothering you about. you want, so badly, to live as big as you can. as much as you can. 

‘well, i’m sure, as long as you think it’ll, like, be good for my face shape or whatever.’

chanel and dimitri share a quick glance and then chanel rolls her eyes. ‘ava, you have to know that you’re beautiful, right?’

you pause for what you feel is an appropriate amount of time. ‘yes.’

‘but since you asked,’ dimitri says, ‘i do think this will be great for your face shape.’

‘alright,’ you say, feeling suddenly very excited and a little buoyed. ‘let’s fucking do it, then.’

chanel cheers and dimitri grins; they wash your hair gently, and you feel a little panicked until chanel starts talking about the threesome she had a few nights ago, which is delightful and grounding enough you stay, fairly easily, in the present of this beautiful, outrageously expensive salon, the control you get to have. not that you’re thrilled about your therapist being completely 100% correct, but… she was right. 

dimitri dries your hair and then combs it out patiently, divides it and then clips up the top part. ‘ready?’

‘definitely.’

chanel grins and it’s easy, so much easier than you knew it would be, to sit and watch yourself become. you’re filled with a sense of joy, this tiny seed that grows as dimitri cuts your hair to your chin precisely, and asks you about your plans for the day, and food you love, and chanel talks about her latest modeling contract — in addition to football, which amazes you in a way that makes you feel proud in the very center of your chest, this incredible person who showed up and helped take care of you. you feel your shoulders relax; you feel your feet firmly in the new sneakers converse had sent you, comfortable and cool; you even take time to feel your butt in the chair with the knowledge that you don’t need to do any pressure reliefs or weight shifts because, when dimitri is done, you’ll be able to stand up and walk and dance and run and even play football. and even if — even if — one day, you couldn’t, you have your friends and your teammates and your life.

‘you look hot, ava,’ chanel says, very genuinely, after dimitri finishes with a leave in, then shows you how to dry your hair and recommends a light oil. 

‘go ahead,’ they say, ‘run your hands through it, all that jazz.’

to touch; to feel. you think you might cry, all of a sudden, with your soft hair that you picked, that you wanted, and chanel takes in your wobbling bottom lip and then tuts and pulls you toward her. because of your height difference, your face is basically smooshed into her chest and, even though you do cry, you laugh too, wet and messy and alive.

‘this probably my favorite place in the world,’ you say.

chanel shoves you playfully and you grin up at her. 

‘thank you.’

she waves you off, as she always does when she’s a little overwhelmed too. ‘don’t thank me yet. now we have to go shopping.’

/

it’s not as bad as you’d feared; despite the fact that chanel only wears the most elegant designer clothes — her closet is full of gucci and bottega and, of course, chanel, and a whole shelf of louboutins — but she also loves you and knows you, deeply, and so when her driver pulls up to a row of a few very cool-looking thrift stores, you have to hug her again. she gives you helpful feedback on pieces and outfits and you feel, quite genuinely, happier than maybe you ever have. you buy crop tops and high waisted, loose jeans and a few sweaters you love; some silly earrings and a necklace and a cap that chanel laughs at, but fondly enough you know it works. you find a men’s button up with a bunch of flames on it and she rolls her eyes but you put it on anyway, knot it at your waist so it feels just above your shorts.

‘do i look bi?’

‘you look a little bit crazy, but i definitely wouldn’t think you’re straight.’

you’re practically shaking with excitement: ‘it’s… flaming. i’m flaming! get it!’

chanel groans. ‘ava,’ she says, but wraps an arm around your shoulders and throws it on the growing pile anyway.

/

you feel happier than maybe you ever have until the next morning, when you come back from a silly game of football on the beach with her and JC and a few of your other friends, your hair spilling out of the tiny bun you’d managed to get it into, which had made you laugh, and sit down to have some burrata — another one of your favorites that chanel indulges in getting for you from time to time, even did while you were in the hospital and she had to put it on little crackers and feed it to you herself — and then accept a call from your agent. you step inside to take it, close the door softly. 

after it’s done, you yank the door open this time, burst onto the patio. all of your nerves are alive; in your shorts, your legs look strong again, tan and muscular and capable.

‘good news?’

you’re almost too excited to explain that you’re getting signed by your favorite club, $6 million for the year, with, if all goes well, an option to extend your contract another season after. a bonus: they just hired dr. jillian salvius, one of the best sports specialists in the world. all of your care will be, of course, included.

chanel starts to cry, which makes you start to cry, and she hugs you to her tightly. 

‘i am so happy for you,’ she says. ‘and i’m really gonna miss you.’

‘i’m gonna miss you too,’ you tell her. 

she backs up and puts her hands on your shoulders, a smile sneaking up her face. ‘you know, i happen to remember your favorite player in the whole entire world playing at a certain club.’

you hadn’t really thought past football and then six million dollars, but — ‘fuck.’

chanel laughs, face beautiful and delicate and rich in the sun. ‘i can’t wait to show her pictures of you in her jersey.’

‘oh god, are there any on my instagram? i have to go check.’

she just keeps laughing, and it’s all brimming, so wonderful, right at your fingertips.

/

you sign a few days later, your hands steady.

/

‘well,’ chanel asks, lounging back in bed on zoom, ‘how was day one?’

‘oh my god.’ your hair is still wet from the shower you took at the training grounds; you had raced back to your new apartment to make sure you were on time for your call. ‘i got there early, to play a little bit, get the nerves out, you know. and guess who was there and wanted to play 1v1?’

she grins. ‘no fucking way.’

‘i got schooled, obviously,’ you say, think of the way beatrice xin had moved with the ball, how surely she went into tackles, how precise she was. ‘i did score twice, though, and nutmegged her once. greatest football moment of my life, i’m pretty sure.’

‘what’s she like?’

you think chanel is probably humoring you, but you don’t care. ‘beatrice is… beautiful.’ it’s really the only word you have: her neat bun that stayed in place perfectly other than a few errant strands by the end of the session today; her clipped, lovely accent; the way her calves had looked while she was sprinting; the delicate lines of her face; her freckles and her eyes; how she had been serious and professional but kind; her strong back, muscles rippling under her skin in a way that made you shiver, in the locker room when she had untucked her quarterzip and pulled it over her head; how she seemed lonely, despite it all. ‘she’s really beautiful.’

/

it’s a while later when the sheer mortification dawns on you, but then beatrice, in her weird, hot, hilarious way, seems to dissipate the extreme embarrassment you’re going to be faced with by being embarrassing first.

‘hello, chanel.’ she reaches out her hand very seriously, in her favorite linen jumpsuit and a very expensive pair of off-white dunks and black, cat eye sunglasses that are honestly cooler than you expected, in front of her favorite nice brunch place. chanel shoots you a glance and then shakes bea’s hand firmly while you both try not to laugh. 

‘hey, it’s great to meet you.’

‘you, as well,’ bea says. ‘i — before we sit, i just wanted to extend my admiration, for the work you have done both on and off the field for trans equity in our sport.’

it’s so serious, and so genuine, chanel seems a little disarmed and a little affected. ‘thank you.’

bea nods once, seriously. ‘and, maybe more importantly, even, my deep gratitude, for caring for ava. she’s spoken so highly of you, and it means — i love her,’ bea decides on, after a pause. ‘i’m glad, immeasurably so, that she has people who love her too.’

chanel suspiciously sniffles. ‘can i give you a hug? is that weird?’

bea smiles, a real smile, your favorite, and opens her arms. you resist the urge, passionately, to make a joke about how the two hottest (sorry, lilith) women you know together is really gonna do it for you during your alone time later, which is honestly a fucking feat.

‘well,’ chanel says, ‘i made a presentation of every embarrassing thing ava has done that you should know about.’

‘oh no.’

bea loops her arm with chanel when she gallantly offers, and bea says, ‘oh yes.’ you trail behind them, feeling short and small and bursting with happiness. chanel orders basically the entire menu for you to try and she and bea laugh at your expense when chanel opens her phone and does, indeed, have an entire canva presentation of you being embarrassing, but you don’t really mind at all. the sun warms your shoulders and you drink champagne that costs way too much money, the bubbles bright on your tongue. chanel laughs and bea puts her hand on your thigh, just like that: you feel it all.

[kay-diggle]

“Broken.” (Series Proposal)

Note: Hey guys! So I’m still working on requests but in the mean time, I’m writing some of my own material as well. This new series is one that I’ve been playing out in my head for about two years but I guess I’ve never really had the courage to write it until now. I have the first few chapters written but I’ve always thought they were too bland and uninteresting, but my friend once told me to post it anyways because there’s bout to be someone out there who will like it, so I’m taking her word for it. I’m going to post the first chapter now and I know a lot of us like to be silent readers and that’s fine, but I’m literally BEGGING here for some feedback. I really want to know if this is something people would actually like to read! So please please please say something, anything! Literally anything would be helpful! Thanks bbys <3

[Proposed story] Summary: Y/N shut out her feelings and thought she would never love again. But then she met him. What happens when an American girl groups joins an internationally know Korean boy band on tour? 

Genre & Rating: Fluff, Smut, Angst (the whole sha-bang), 18+

Warnings: This chapter is pretty light. Just notice the bold dialogue is when the characters are speaking in Korean, any other time please assume it’s in English :)

Length: 1.3 words

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CHAPTER 1 

A 14 hour flight from the grand state of New York to the extremely foreign country South Korea? Yeah, you weren’t feeling it at all. However, you took the trip to please your band mates, managers, and everyone else involved. Now you were in the BigHit company building feeling, and quite frankly looking out of place, awkwardly standing by the door of the waiting room you all were currently in. 

“A smile won't do you any harm y/nnnnn,” your best friend Dana said, dragging out your name and pinching your cheeks forcing your face into a smile. 

“No… but if you don’t let go of my fucking face, I’LL do YOU harm,” you replied sarcastically smiling. 

Dana traded pinching your cheeks to holding both of your hands in hers. 

“Look at me. I know you’re not all that excited or happy to be here. But think about it this way… it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, yeah? We’ll get to travel the world, meet a bunch of our fans and we are touring with the biggest boy band in the world. Great exposure.”  

“Hmmm… as if the ‘exposure’ we got on that stupid TV show wasn’t enough,” you said, voice laced with venom. It always was when you thought about your high school days. 

In high school, your group ‘Almost Angels’ starred in a reality television show based on your lives along with some friends called “Beyond the Lights.” It showcased your growing up, going from kids to teenagers to young adults in the public eye for everyone to see. It really put a strain on your lives in some aspects, so to say that you had a few hostile feelings towards the show would be an understatement. 

“I thought we said we’d stop with the BTL slander,” Dana said referring to the show. “You act like NOTHING good came from the show. We graduated two years and look at us now,” she said while glancing all around the room you were currently being held in until the real negotiations could begin. 

“Yes… I know, I know..”

Suddenly, a few BigHit workers came and directed your group and managers into an official board meeting room. Inside of the room sat what seemed to be a few BigHit executives along with seven of the most beautiful men you had ever seen in your life. The seven of them that you recognized as the members of BTS stoop up. 

“Hello, we are BTS,” they introduced themselves and bowed. 

“Hello. I’m Naomi and these are my band members: Chanel, Kali, Dana and y/n,” she said introducing them in Korean and bowing, prompting the rest of them to do so as well. 

Naomi was born from an interracial relationship, her mother being African American and her dad being born and raised in South Korea. Her parents met when her mother did a study abroad program during her senior year in college and the rest was history. Naomi’s black culture dominates her life in America but her father made sure that her Korean culture was also very present, which is why she can speak it so fluently and knows the important customs. 

“Okay, my turn,” Namjoon smiled his dimpled smile and chuckled, slightly surprised by Naomi’s introduction. “I’m Rm, this is Suga, Jin, Jungkook, J-hope,  and Jimin. It’s really nice to finally meet you all!”

Everyone went around shaking hands and/or hugging while you had felt even more out of place. Aside from not really wanting to be in your current predicament, you also had social anxiety and weren’t always very comfortable meeting new people.

After everyone got their introductions out of the way, the CEO of BigHit, Bang PD, finally made an appearance. After a brief introduction from him and a few of his colleagues or employees, it was time to get down to business. The negotiation between your two groups and your teams were very successful, in part because some of the terms were already agreed on beforehand, and the other part due to a few translators being present and constantly taking the conversation from English to Korean and vice versa. 

During the entire two hour meeting, you  were completely spaced out. You honestly didn’t care about any of the terms they were setting, you just wanted to get into a hotel room and sleep as the jet lag was hitting you hard. You were dazed off, chin in palm, and thought that no one had noticed. 

But they did. More specifically, he did. 

Jimin, who you didn’t even know yet was so transfixed by your presence that he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Something about you was just so… magnetic, and he didn’t even have the courage to get up and say something to you, as he had missed you in the initial round of introduction. So that’s why when you were sitting in the corner by yourself on your phone, he could only stare at you from a distance. 

“Go talk to her,” Taehyung said, walking up to Jimin and completely catching him off guard, making him jump. 

“What are you talking about?” Jimin turned from you. 

“I’m talking about how you keep staring at that girl like a creep. Go say hi.” 

“I can't just… ‘go say hi’ Tae.” 

“And why not?” 

“Because….“ he replied sheepishly, looking away from Tae’s eyes in embarrassment. He couldn’t even explain it, but there was just something about you. Something that excited him but also scared the hell out of him in the same breath. 

And with a roll of his eyes and Jimin’s wrist in his grasp, Tae pulled him over to where you were sitting, and you couldn’t explain the amount of fear that ran through your body when you noticed two figures hovering over you, making you shift in your seat as you were extremely uncomfortable.

You played it off though, as if you didn’t sense them standing over you. That was until you heard one of them cough to get your attention. You slowly lifted your head, your eyes automatically connecting with the man in front of you. You figured he was a member of the band and didn’t want to come off as being rude, so you smiled at him and he smiled back, giving you the brightest smile you had ever seen. It was so bright that his eyes almost completely disappeared behind his eyelids, and you swore that in that moment, you’d never seen anything cuter. 

“Hi, I’m Taehyung, remember?” 

“Yes! Hi again!” 

“Well, this is Jimin. I think you two missed each other the first time and he just wanted to say hi.” 

“Ohh,” you said standing up, preparing to greet him. “Hi, Jimin. I’m y/n. It’s nice to meet you,” You smiled again, taking his hand in yours to shake. 

At this point, Jimin was just staring at you, not letting go of your hand. You felt a sense of relief when Chanel called you over to the girls, saving you from the otherwise awkward encounter. You hurriedly excused yourself from the two boys, departing with a quick smile in both of their directions. 

Once you were out of ear reach, Taehyung turned back to Jimin. “See, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?” 

But Jimin couldn’t respond. He could barely even move. He just stood there, looking completely starstruck, and now Tae was worried. 

“Jiminie?” he asked, placing a hand on the boy in question’s shoulder to try and get back at least some of his attention. 

“Holy shit,” Jimin whispered more to himself than anything.

“What man…..? What’s wrong?” 

Jimin turned to his friend and gave him the most serious look he could muster. “I think I might be in love.”

[nomoregraydays]

Under The Stars (G.D. fanfic) - Part 14 Tattoo Time

POV: First person 

Word Count: 1313

*****

“That’s where you decided to get your first tattoo?” Ethan asked incredulously.

I furrowed my eyebrows at him. “You can’t talk, E. You get all yours on your thigh and ankles. You got one on the inside of your lip.”

He rolled his eyes. “Still not as painful as the shoulder blade area. You should do your arm first or leg.”

“Mmhm.” I sighed heavily. “But this is the tattoo I’ve been thinking about the longest. I want to get it first incase I decide I don’t want to get the rest.”

Grayson laughed beside me and played with my hair. “That’s a funny joke. You get one, you’re hooked.” He kissed the side of my head before getting up from the couch and leaving the space beside me vacant and lonely.

He reached his hand out for me to take. “Come on.”

I took it with a smile even though I had nerves surging in my body. I looked at Ethan. “Are you not gonna come with?”

“And miss the opportunity for some good video footage? Fuck no. I’m coming.”

I groaned internally as I crashed my face into Gray’s chest to hide the redness I felt creeping up. This is gonna show up on YouTube some day, or at least a form of social media. I know it.

***

I took a deep breath as we stepped through the door of the tattoo shop. We would’ve went to the boys’ tattoo artist but he’s back in Jersey, and I can’t take that much time off.

Gray squeezed my hand as Ethan pushed past us. “We got fresh meat bros!”

“Thanks for the intro, E.”

An average beefed man approached us with a sly smirk. “You’re the fresh meat I’m guessing?”

I was not expecting the slight hint of a British accent. Wow.

“Yup.” I nodded shortly.

“Good.” He chuckled and waved for us to follow him back to his station. “Where at and what?”

I pulled out a piece of paper from my back pocket. “On my left shoulder blade area.”

“Doin one of the first worst. Great idea.” I could sense of a bit of sarcasm, yet genuinity out of it. He stood up from where he had sat and walked off to do something. I think to transfer the design to the parchment paper.

Both of the twins were clearly amused by my anxiousness towards this. Honestly, once it starts I should be fine; it’s usually how it goes. Ethan had pulled out the Gopro and the lens pointed in my direction.

“The she-beast is finally getting her first tattoo. What do you have to say?”

I rolled my eyes and flicked him off. The front door opened, but I hadn’t looked to see who it was. A couple seconds later Chanelle approached. “What’s up, my dudes? How you feeling, Kat?”

She’d gotten her first tattoo a couple months back. I was the last one.

“Considering it hasn’t started? Nervous as fuck.”

“Good mindset.” She laughed and side hugged Ethan who kissed her cheek.

The tattoo dude came back and handed over the paper I’d given him. “I’m Nigel, by the way. Get comfortable. You’ll need to remove the straps of your tank and bra.”

I silently sat down on the black cushion and pushed the left straps down and took my arm out of them. Grayson rested a warm hand on the bare skin and pressed his lips on the area then underneath my ear. “It’ll be okay.”

I noticed I closed my eyes and focused on how his hand and lips felt on me. If somehow Grayson could distract me with sexual favors while I get this tattoo done, that would be awesome.

“Look back please. Tell me if this is good.”

I glanced back to see he was holding up a mirror and he held the angel wings design positioned over the shoulder blade area. “Just a little bit more to the left and it’s good. Thanks.”

He nodded. “Righty then.” He took out a disinfectant wipe to clean the area before sticking the design on to my skin. It’s a fairly simple design in black ink, so shouldn’t take long. I don’t think anyways. Even though I could hear the machine turn on and knew it was coming, I jolted a bit at the first poke of the needle.

Nigel snickered under his breath. “Sorry, should’ve warned. I’m starting.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “Great warning skills. I’m sure you’d be very helpful if there was a predator coming.”

“What kind of predator though? How much danger would there really be to warn people?”

“I don’t know. Hypothetically, what if zombies or vampires existed. They’re a high danger. Would you warn someone that a zombie was about to attack them?”

My three friends groaned aloud knowing what this conversation could turn into it. I was amused now and thankful for this distraction as he worked the stinging ink into my skin. I had to stop and cringe hard with tears in my eyes at some of the over bone parts, but it was over quicker than I was expecting.

“Man, I thought you were gonna cry like a little bitch the whole time.” Ethan stated, seeming disappointed or impressed?? Maybe both.

I shook my head. “Jealous? I think you’ll cry if you get one on your shoulder.”

He let out a deep breath. “Don’t think we’ll ever get the chance to find out. I’m too scared.”

All of us laughed.

Grayson shoved his shoulder. “Maybe this is a fear we should do for a video.”

“I’d rather swim with sharks again bro.”

“Okay, let’s do it. A part two.”

Ethan eyed Grayson to see if he was serious then stuck his hand out for a fist bump. “Since I’m a savage, okay.”

“Ethan, I think she’s taken the savage title from you.” Nigel joked.

I am completely amused. “Hah! Never thought the day would come.”

“Oh no. Nigel, you have anyone else coming in? Let’s get someone on a shoulder blade.” E whipped off the white muscle tee he was wearing and sat down on the black cushion.

Chanelle face palmed and sighed heavily. “For fuck sakes.” She looked at me. “Thanks, Kat.”

I smirked. “You’re welcome.”

***

I was dying of laughter. As much as Ethan wanted to take the title back today, he cried more than I did. But I still give him props, he had a filled in tattoo of a mountain done; it’s either go big or go home for these boys.

“Would you shut up?” He whined as we paid and left the shop.

“I just wanna milk this a little longer. It’s not every day I’m more savage than you.”

He hung his head down and shoved his hands into his pockets to walk ahead.

“Ethan, come on! I give you some props, you got a more intricate tattoo than I did, so I say you did pretty damn good.”

“Damn straight.” He shot back and hopped into the driver seat of his car to end the conversation.

Grayson snickered and looked at me. “How’s the tattoo feeling?”

For a moment, I was blown away by the sunset backdrop behind him, making him glow more. I cleared my throat and blinked a couple times. “It’s feeling good. Tender, obviously.”

“I’ll remind and help you later to remove the paper and put the lotion on it.”

I smiled. “Thanks, babe. I don’t think I’ve said it yet.. I’m really glad that all of you were here for this. I wouldn’t have ever done it.”

He captivated my lips sweetfully in a kiss for a brief moment. “I’m glad you let me be here for it.”

“You can be there for every single one. No doubt.”

His fingers brushed down my right shoulder and he was smiling like a complete dork. “I can’t wait.”

Next: First Time (Part 15)