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#today i made the sketch that is no longer a sketch

zivazivc · 2 months

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Sorry if this has already been asked before but why did the band break up? And did they break up on decent terms? Do they still talk to each other sometime?

It has been asked before, I just never answered jshfbdjcbh I'm still piecing everything together and stuff is changing or getting tweaked all the time, so I'm always super hesitant about answering these types of questions, afraid that people will take whatever I say as the final answer. So basically what I'm going to answer now will already contradict what I told some people already. And maybe in the future the story might go a little differently too (although I'm pretty satisfied with the current events)

Uhhh, get ready for a long info dump. I didn't expect I'd write this much...

Floyd basically stayed with the band for 8 years (from 14 till 22) and got pretty messed up in the process. The rest of the guys are all quite older than him so I guess I could say they were more responsible, or at least had a better understanding of their own limits (also they grew up in this kind of environment or grew up aware of it, while Floyd was oblivious and naive about all of it) and while they do get drunk and do drugs often, none of them are really dependent on them. They are also pretty good judges of character and know how to avoid trouble. Floyd on the other hand drove in with no breaks and constantly got himself in trouble that the rest (mostly Les) had to drag him out of. He also developed bipolar during this time (in my story Floyd constantly fluctuates between being saturated and being desaturated because of this) and his manic and depressive episodes started getting out of hand after his teenage years. (None of them are aware it's a mental disorder that's making him act so out of character.)

Floyd was becoming miserable because of this and all of his problems pilling up, and started blaming Les for the way he was. Les never argued this which only fueled Floyd to blame him more. In the end he was getting so frustrated and irritable that Floyd constantly tried starting arguments with him, even putting him down and getting aggressive at times because Les gets very unresponsive and closed off during personal conversations (guy is a giant onion of suppressed trauma that Floyd is hellbent on peeling open).

Eventually there was one fight too many, terrible things were said, some objects flew through the air, and Floyd walked out (or Hed kicked him out, I haven't decided yet) with the promise of going home and never seeing them again.

So, yeah, it was very messy and Floyd was the primary asshole, even though he's not really to blame either...

But Floyd didn't make it home (was too scared to sneak through Bergen Town to get to the tree (i don't think i can judge him for that either)) and he just returned to the reckless lifestyle, this time without anyone being there to keep him safe. So if he was messed up before, this is the time period where he got absolutely fucked up. This is also when he got heavily addicted to sour worms. And when he chronically slept around (half the time just to get offered free worms or have somewhere to sleep, other times because he was having manic episodes and was feeling hypersexual). (This is also potentially the period when he had the two eggs with that techno troll, but I'm still thinking if I want that to be canon to the story or not.) During this time he also grew to become very anxious and his self-confidence went to shit when he was being himself.

Then after about three years of that, he bumped into Les at some party. He wanted to dodge him out of shame but Les grabbed his arm and manhandled him outside to talk. Floyd felt like shit about the way they had split up and tried apologizing for all the stuff he had said and done to Les, but Les wasn't having any of that because he wasn't angry at Floyd, he was just worried about him. Les is also insanely empathetic like Floyd, and he knew that Floyd never really meant any of it, and that he was just looking for an outlet when he was hurting. Also he does think he is to blame for the way Floyd ended up.

Les wanted to know why he didn't go home like he had said (because that was the only reason Les had even let him walk out in the first place). A few exchanged words later and Floyd broke down telling him all the awful things he'd done, and Les promised to help him, feeling insanely guilty. Floyd wondered if he was allowed back in the band but Les made it clear that the band wasn't good for him and that he was never taking him back. Instead Les helped him go though rehab. I don't think trolls have those institutions (or at least not many are aware of them or how they work (I'm sorry but I refuse to believe the Trolls world has internet and cellphones, Mountrageons can keep that for themselves lol)), so it was more or less just Les finding Floyd a job and his own place to stay in the middle of bumfuck nowhere where he had no option but to detox, and constantly checking up on him to make sure he was doing okay. During this time they grew pretty close again. Or maybe the better term would be that Les slowly started putting his walls down again.

Hed needed a while to warm up to Floyd again. He's almost as protective of Les as Les is of him, and he resented Floyd for the way he had treated him.

Flea is pretty phlegmatic when it comes to any sort of arguing or drama. He was casual about seeing Floyd again, they were never super close anyway.

And Liv, she left the band when she and Hed broke up (haven't decided if that happened before or after Floyd left), so Floyd didn't get to see her again after bumping into Les at the party. And I haven't thought yet if they'd ever meet again somewhere later in life. But if they did, I think they'd both be happy to see each other.

Anyway...

Floyd managed to detox and successfully kept the job for about a year, but then he became manic again and messed it all up. After that he returned to his nomadic lifestyle, but he never fell as hard as those three years again. In my story Floyd's life is a constant cycle of getting his life together and fucking it up and booking to the next place. And he and Les are trapped in a never-ending cat and mouse game where they're both trying to fix each other.

So, uh, Les and Floyd are still very close and see each other somewhat often...

(sometimes monthly, sometimes yearly)

Yeah...

I am so fucking obsessed with them I'm gonna hurl. Please take this song before I combust:

youtube

#btw the status of Floyd's and Les's relationship is forever set on 'complicated'#but they are as obsessed with each other as i am obsessed with them #the song is too soft and vulnerable to be something les would sing out loud but inside he does feel it #papa roach is nu metal btw. tho idk where this song stands exactly #trolls #dreamworks trolls #ex bandmates #trolls floyd #trolls oc #les #answered #my art #btw I am only self educated on the bipolar disorder from what i've read and watched on the internet so have that in mind #my intention is to be respectful but i might not understand all of it. especially not the personal experience of those who have it #i'm just some random nerd #so in a way you could say floyd was diagnosed by a nonprofessional lol #i stayed up until 3am last night writing this #today i made the sketch that is no longer a sketch #should i put this post under a cut? it is pretty long #long post

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lucalicatteart · 1 year

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Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 14: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

Yesterday's poll decided that The Adventurer should relax by spending his afternoon shopping ..

He trots down the mossy cobblestone walkway, gazing around in awe as he approaches the central hub of the small city. Tiny shops and stalls and carts are woven through the few clusters of taller buildings, with a modest crowd bustling back and forth between them. Despite much of the land being cleared for structures and pathways, it's still lush with greenery wherever it can be, every blank stone wall or street corner dotted with trailing vines and flowering fruit trees.

After spending a good 25 minutes trying to orient himself at the city map directory, he finally finds his way onto one of the primary shopping streets, eager to spend the afternoon lazily strolling about, trying to ignore his physical aches and just take in all the sights as he hunts for interesting items....

...A few hours (and multiple snack breaks) later, the streets begin to glow with a hazy warmth as lanterns are lit, marking the nearing sunset. Possibly because of the fight yesterday, he's felt shakier, more easily startled than usual, and suddenly realizes an urgent need to be safely inside his room at the inn before nightfall. He wanted to stay out longer, see the lights and the crowds, fascinating scenes of city nightlife he's never been exposed to before.. but, his nerves are impossible to ignore.

Begrudgingly preparing to slink off towards the inn in a sweaty anxious panic, he stops in the doorway, resolving to at LEAST buy himself ONE nice item before he leaves. He doesn't have much money, sure, but it'd be a shame to simply look around all day and not get anything. All travelers need to collect their souvenirs, right? But.. What should he get?

Additional Information (feel free to skip this part, it's just extra context for people who are interested lol)

just for record (in case it influences what people think he should buy), this is the adventurer's current inventory contents:

small journal + pencil to document his travels (and a few colored pencils for sketching plants or doodling)

a basic travel guide booklet

a simple map of the area

a small glass lantern case you can put candles in

fire starting materials

basic matches

first aid kid (a few bandages, simple antibacterial balm, some dried herbs that can be used for minor issues like stomach aches or nausea)

one metal cup, one metal bowl/plate thing, one metal fork/spoon, a cooking knife, and one metal pot for cooking over the fire

a basic toiletry bag (toothbrush, herbal mixture toothpaste type thing, bar of soap, one towel, a rag, a few disposable paper napkins, moisturizing oil, hair brush, a tiny cracked mirror)

three bottles of various spice mixes for flavoring the plain/bland food he usually forages on the road (+ plain salt)

a glass jar of berries

a container of plain dried oats

a container of dried beans

half a loaf of stale bread

one carrot he found

a bag of dried fruit

about 15 coins (maybe equivalent to $45 USD in our world money lol)

a basic fishing kit (simple lures, hooks, string)

two containers of canned fish just as a back up in case he ever can't find fresher food for the cat

a cheesy fairytale romance novel about people going on a grand heroic journey, to help give him inspiration to continue on his own travels and be the ultimate Super Cool Adventurer Hero

an old folded up letter from his family

a fabric pouch of cool shiny rocks + other trinkets he's collected

one change of underwear, one change of socks, + winter gloves

foldable saw

some twine/string

a basic sewing kit (2 needles, one spool of thread, a thimble)

lawyer's business card (from boat party)

lawyer's fancy expensive giant scarf (also from party)

1 lunchbox of vegetable dumplings (from Innkeeper)

2 canteens of water

a small dagger for cutting rope, vines, multipurpose anything

a little tin of mint & rose flavored candies for when his mouth gets dry

a box of cubed dried chicken as cat treats

a box of fancy tea

one large rope

a roll of fabrics (one thick blanket for padding when sleeping on the ground, some basic tent fabric to make shelter from, a few spare fabric scraps, 2 cloth napkin/towel things, two cloth sacks for extra carrying capacity if needed)

1 pouch of dried meat

5 candles

Innkeeper's hand-drawn map to her brother's hideout

and of course, the Mysterious Egg in a little wooden box

the adventurer's current main quest: follow his map to reach the abandoned castle ruins and see the rare animal specialist about the mysterious egg he has

#paventure posting #poll #polls #choose your own adventure #Just a fun shopping day! what shall he get? :0 #Also the cat is riding on his head in the image but I picture more that the cat probably sits on his shoulder or just #follows him on the ground when he's walking around. probably shoulder is best in crowded areas so they #don't get separated. I just can't draw the cat on the shoulders because of the more like ''chibi'' art style. his head is so giant there's #no room for anything on his tiny shoulders that are covered up by his hair anyway lol #If I drew him in my own actual more realistically proportioned style then. maybe #I should do a ''normal'' drawing of him.#maybe like a a character sketch to show his outfit fully or something. But..eh #I finally made the writing shorter again. The past few days have been too long. but I'm working back towards like #3 paragraphs or less. Today is 4 but still.. better than some of the other days. Which those days I did also have to describe #more but still. I do these super super quickly so it's better for it to be shorter if it can be lol #the writing SEEMS longer since I did also include his entire inventory but jhjknk #I just LOVE thinknig about inventories. Part of the pictures I want to post on my main blog at some point if I ever finally #edit all of them is I gathered a few items from around the house and made little fake adventurer inventories #like just groups of things someone might carry around. This was months and months ago it just takes me THAT long to actually #find the time/energy to edit and post photos lol. But for whatever reason some of my favorite Unnecessary Details to fixate on #(and I LOVE fixating on small pointless details) is like.. what someone is carrying aroun with them. What they have in their bag #and why and what it says about them and what it looks like and the story behind it and where they got it and etc.#Of course his is pretty plain because he barely brought anything with him. but still lol.. I'm leaving his backstory up to interpretation #since he's kind of a character where most of the decisions are made by other people. so I'm not sure if he doesn't have much because #he used to be a poor farm boy or something. Or maybe he just was so overexcited to leave he forgot to pack enough. maybe he's just #bad a planning. maybe he's rich actually but his parents didnt want him to waste his time on adventuring so they didnt support him #or buy things for him and he had to scrap it together himself. etc. etc. Whatever the case. He has ENOUGH to be prepared #and to survive generally. but it's all very like. flimsy basic stuff. materials that tear easily. bent metal pot with dents in it. etc. lol #ANYWAY.. new poll adventure.. this one did take a little longer than I wanted but not as long as the last one. Trying to get back on track #I will hopefully have less dr's appointments in april. so.. aaaa

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some-artist10 · 1 year

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This started as a sketch but then it needed colors and then I had to add shadows and basically here we are

#sketchbook #pencil #sketches #art #colored pencils #artwork #polaroids #drawing #picture #this took me longer than i'd like to admit #now my room is a mess #at least i made a thing today though

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baskeigh-ball · 4 months

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I've always wanted to try coloring a traditional sketch, so have one made in ibis paint

(which I just found out is No Longer Ethical To Use bc they have an ai "auto paint" feature now. sigh. i'm looking for alternatives as i post this -_- )

(Edit: turns out they got rid of the feature today! Good for them :D)

#expect a post about the whole ai art thing later because i am getting very tired of it #but back to raph #i like this color scheme WAY better than what ive been using #hes never looked better ong #rottmnt #rottmnt raph #my art #i have to do this with the rest of the mad dogz

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bogleech · 9 months

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Many parasites takeover the minds and bodies of insects, spiders or other creatures, making them like zombies. You’ve listed some in spider-ween and other places. Do you know any parasites that take over bees? I know wasps lay their eggs in their larva, but haven’t really found anything about those that pilot a bee’s body.

Strepsipterans! Also frequently just called "Stylops"

These are the weirdest most alien insect group in existence. What you're seeing are the head ends of the mature females; their bodies are just bags of tissue that absorb nutrients from the host, so they no longer have any trace of limbs or wings and their flat little heads no longer have mouths or eyes.

The only reason the female's heads stick out of the host at all is because the head evolved into the end they mate with. The short-lived mature male is a very tiny flying thing (whose anatomy is unlike any other insect alive today - a totally unique type of wing, unique eye arrangement, we have NO idea what these evolved from, except for some loose connections to beetles!) who mates by breaking through the female's featureless armored face with his bladed genitalia and then he dies. And Strepsiptera can be found infecting all sorts of arthropods, even apparently some arachnids, but none of those arthropods really tend to sit still when a little tiny flying man tries to land on them, so the females usually do something to their hosts (we aren't sure what exactly) to make them slower and more complacent. Social Hymenoptera like bees are especially common hosts though, and when a worker bee or wasp is infected by stylops, she actually abandons her colony and her duties for extended periods of time to just perch in one place while the parasite broadcasts its mating pheromones. This is especially eerie from the bee's perspective; a worker bee is a female bee that wasn't allowed to become a queen and isn't "supposed" to be going around mating, but now she's sitting around waiting for a male just like any other bug that wants to be a mom. It's just not a male of her species and she's not the one who gets to reproduce. Is the parasite tapping into buried queen behavior? Does the bee's little brain think it's calling for a drone to help it start a new hive? Or does the parasite just make the bee a lazy slob who stops caring about her hive and just feels like chilling out on a flower all day? We might never know.

Here are those unique eyes of the male for anyone wondering. Not set in a fine multifaceted grid like in other insects, but clustered, still set in their own individual "sockets" like we see in much more ancient arthropods like trilobites! This suggests that Strepsipteran eyes date back to when insects were first beginning to evolve towards true compound eyes, but there still aren't many insects in the fossil record that have anything else in common with these animals. EDIT: oh yeah I forgot to include that these are in the children's book made by @revretch and I!

I did the rough pencil sketch of this page while Rev did the beautiful inks! I felt kids should know about these animals but I tried to explain it in the most kid-friendly way possible.

#biology #parasites #insects

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ssavaart · 4 months

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Sometimes You Have to Make 100 BAD Drawings To Get 1 GOOD One

(Earlier this year, a publisher asked me if I'd be interested in writing a book on art. As we discussed it... they asked me to "give it a try" and this is one of two tests I did. I don't consider myself a writer, really, so this is just "in my own voice". I wound up turning down the offer... but would love to know your thoughts on this. Thanks)

Drawing something good. Something you like. It’s… elusive. Especially when you’re just starting out.

But, here’s the thing. You have good art in you. I promise. You just have to get to it and it’s stuck under a bunch of bad art. Really bad art.

When I was younger, I would draw every day. Filling up sketchbooks with doodles and sketches and I hated ALL of them.

Page 01: Crap

Page 02: Crap

Page 03: Crap

Page 04: Worse than Crap

Page 05: What even is that?

Page 06: Ugh

And it was just downhill from there…

But… somewhere around like page 100… I made something that… “wasn’t crap”. I actually didn’t hate it.

And that gave me courage to keep going. That one drawing made it all worth it. I was cured. I was now an expert. All of my art would be great from now on.

Oh… if only.

The next drawing was worse than any other drawing before it.

How??? I just made ART! like 5 minutes before that. I got all the bad drawings out! How did my art just go from Van Gogh to Van NO???

Honestly? I… got lucky. That one good drawing? Total fluke. Dumb luck. Sheer Happenstance.

Doing 100 drawings didn’t suddenly make me an expert. It couldn’t.

Have you ever heard of the saying “If a million monkeys type on a million typewriters for a million years, they’ll eventually write Shakespeare”?

I was those monkeys and that drawing was my Shakespeare.

I just pooped out enough bad art that eventually sheer luck was going to mean I may make something really good.

And I’m TOTALLY okay with that. I was 11. I’m not a prodigy. I don’t have any special gifts. But what I did have was… a taste for how making good art felt.

Seeing that one good drawing made me want more. Like my first time tasting chocolate ice cream. I was hooked.

So, I made 100 more bad drawings. Maybe more. And, guess what? ANOTHER great drawing emerged!

Another Shakespeare from this 11 year old monkey!!!! Huzzah!

From then on… I knew that all I had to do was keep banging away at that typewriter (I’m still on the million monkey thing… bear with me) and I would get rewarded with another masterpiece.

Week after week. Month after month. I would fill up my sketchbooks with the most horrific, amateurish, incomprehensible art… and, sure enough, 1 of every 100 drawings would not suck.

I would show it to my mom and she would say “Oh! That’s wonderful!” and when she tried to turn the pages to see more, I would quickly SNATCH it out of her hands and run back into the shadows like Gollum hiding his “Precious” from prying eyes.

I dare not let her see the monstrosities that came before the work of genius.

And… this went on. For years. Predictably. Rhythmically.

Until, one day… my 75th drawing was really good.

How? It was 25 drawings early! That’s not how it was supposed to work. That wasn’t the plan.

But there it was. A really amazing drawing of a spaceship I came up with out of my head. It had lasers and a cockpit and wings and…It was glorious. And it was totally unexpected.

Maybe NOW I was an expert and I no longer needed to make bad art? Would today be the day I would only make masterpieces?

I quickly turned the page and began to draw what would soon be my second greatest work of art and… NOPE.

Still crap.

Hm. But… something was different. It was still crap. But… it wasn’t as “crappy” as the other crap.

I grabbed my previous sketchbooks and looked at the bad drawings from previous years and… guess what? My older bad drawings were WORSE than my newer bad drawings!

Apparently, the more I drew… the better my BAD drawings got too.

Okay. So. I drew 75 more “not as crappy” bad drawings and… predictably… I made another great drawing!

I was… IMPROVING.

This went on for years. I went to high school. Then art school. I hated MOST of my art… but as I practiced… the number of BAD art I had to make to get to the GOOD art got lower and lower. Soon it was 50 bad pieces for 1 good one. Then 25. Then 10.

It took decades when I noticed… I liked my art more often than not.

It was a complete surprise. I was in my 40’s when this happened. I was SO conditioned to just accept I was going to hate my art that I hadn’t noticed that I had made 5 paintings that didn’t suck. IN A ROW!!!

Unheard of!

But, there it was. 5 good paintings. One right after the other.

The 6th one was complete trash. Tossed it in the garbage.

But, the 7th one? I liked. And the 8th. And the 9th.

I’m now 54 and I know I still have SO much bad art in me. I can feel it. Always ready to pop up and ruin my day.

But, I “pooped out” so much bad art over the years that I’m not really worried about those pop up bad art surprises. I know it’s just temporary.

I like my art now. And that’s because I got MOST of the bad art out of me and into those old sketchbooks.

I know it may seem daunting doing 100 bad drawings just to get to 1 good one. But… if you love that feeling of making that one GOOD piece of art… you need to be patient and get the bad ones out. They’re blocking the good ones. Keeping them deep inside you.

So, crack open that sketchbook. Poop out those bad pieces of art and never look back.

You’ll thank me in like 40 years or so. I promise.

(Oh. And sorry for all the poop references. I’m still that 11 year old when it comes to humor)

Poop.

#making art #creativity #artists #creating #art advice

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j0hnj4ej3n · 3 months

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nct dream's reaction to you saying 'i feel so ugly right now'

word count: 1.9k

warnings: mentions of insecurities, period and period cramps

notes: hi loveys! here’s my first post in 2024!!! i know it’s been a long time since i uploaded something and i’m so sorry about that :( but i really hope you guys like this little something~ i’ll try to post at least once a month this year, i’m currently finishing up my last semester in uni so if time allows it, i’ll post more after i graduate! hehe, in the meantime, take care everyone! sending all my love to you <3

𔘓 Mark:

The two of you were preparing to head out for dinner but you were taking longer than usual to get ready. “Babe? Don’t mean to rush you, but we have to leave soon to make it for our reservation,” Mark tells you as he leans against the doorframe of your shared toilet. You huff out in frustration, before muttering a quick, “Just give me a minute.” Mark takes in the mess in the toilet and the deep frown on your face and cautiously asks, “Hey…everything okay?” You drop the make-up brush on the counter and let your shoulders sag in defeat. You stare at Mark through the mirror and let out a weak, “I feel so ugly.” You see Mark’s face morph into one of immediate confusion, his eyes widened slightly as he opens his mouth to protest. “What? You are not ugly… babe, come on.” Mark comes up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist. “But I feel ugly… nothing looks good on me. I just feel like I look so bad.” “Stop it. You are so beautiful, look at you!” Mark almost exclaims as he nods towards the mirror. You sigh as you lean against him, eyeing at the two of you through the mirror. “I don’t know…” you said, sighing. You feel Mark squeeze you tighter as he leans his head against yours gently. “Well, I think you’re so pretty… like all the time… but if you’re not feeling it today, we don’t have to go out, we can stay home and do whatever you want.” You shake your head, “Just give me a few minutes, I’ll be right out.” “You sure?” You gave him an assuring nod before he placed a quick kiss on the side of your head. “My pretty girl,” Mark mutters as he takes one last look at you, before he leaves to wait for you in the living room.

𔘓 Renjun:

“I feel so ugly right now,” you mumble beside Renjun on the bed. You’re lying down with your back facing your boyfriend, already sulking because of your period cramps and now the overwhelming feeling of insecurities that returns during your period has caught up to you. You made that comment more to yourself than anything but Renjun heard it anyway. “Love, you are not ugly…” “Okay, but I feel really ugly right now,” you tell him as you turn around in bed to face him. He puts down his ipad filled with sketches to brush your hair away from your face, running his fingers gently through your hair. “I’m sorry you’re feeling like that, but I can assure you that you look so beautiful right now…” Renjun tells you with sincerity in his voice, his eyes filled with adoration as he keeps running his fingers through your hair, lightly massaging your scalp. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” “I don’t know, but a nap sounds really good right now.” “Should we cuddle and nap together then?” Renjun asks as he begins shifting down from his sitting position so he could hold you in his arms. “Sounds perfect,” you tell him as you snuggle closer to him.

𔘓 Jeno:

It’s the first time Jeno is staying over at your place. And it’s probably the first time he’s going to see you barefaced. It’s not that you look too different without makeup, at least you don’t think so. But for some reason, after removing your makeup and changing into your pyjamas, you hesitate to leave the toilet and join Jeno, who’s in the living room waiting for you. When you finally do, you’re covering your face slightly and trying not to face him directly. Jeno eyes you as you come to sit awkwardly beside him on the sofa. “Why are you hiding your face?” Jeno says as he chuckles. “I don’t have makeup on…” “And?” Jeno says as he sits up to face you, but you turn your face away from him. “And I feel like I look ugly right now.” “You’re crazy…let me see,” Jeno mumbles as he reaches out to pull your hands gently away from your face. “Nooo…” You try to resist against Jeno but you are no match against his strength. As your hands fall from your face, you close your eyes shut and look down. Jeno uses his fingers to tilt your face up as you slowly open your eyes, only to meet his. He scans your face, like he’s trying to memorise every feature. “You’re still so pretty, though?” You break eye contact as you feel blood rushing to your face, there’s no way you’re not blushing after that. Jeno only smiles at your reaction, his eyes crinkling into his signature eye smile. “You’re just too cute,” he mutters as he leans forward to plant a kiss on your cheek.

𔘓 Haechan:

“Hello? Babe, are you there?” Haechan’s face flashes from your screen. He has his glasses on and he’s running his fingers through his hair to keep it away from his eyes. “Hi baby, yea, I’m here.” “Why isn’t your camera on?” “I don’t want to turn it on,” you tell him. A frown finds its way to his face as he blurts out a “What? Why?” “Just don’t want to…” Haechan clicks his teeth, “Come on baby, I miss you… wanna see you.” You sigh, before mumbling out, “I look ugly today…” Haechan’s eyes widen as he lets out a dramatic gasp, which causes you to frown even though he can’t see it. “No way?! Prove it, let me see!” “Tsk, shut up!” “No, seriously, I’ve never seen you ugly in my life so I have to see it at least once. Come on, show me your ugly face~” Haechan has a cheeky grin on his face as you finally turn your camera on but he doesn’t say anything. “See… I told you.” “There’s that pretty face… Sorry to burst your bubble baby, but you’re not ugly,” Haechan tells you teasingly. You can’t help but sigh, “I feel ugly though…” “Did something happen?” Haechan gets serious as he senses that you’ve probably been feeling like crap all day, plus he feels bad for not being able to be there to comfort you. You shake your head, “Just one of those days, I guess.” “I’m sorry you feel this way baby, wish I was there with you.” “Yea, me too.” You sigh as you lie down on your bed. “If it makes you feel better, I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Haechan tells you, his voice is deeper since it's late into the night and it makes you more flustered than you can imagine. But you try to deflect that by saying, “Wow, I can’t believe you even dare to look at other girls.” “No, never. You’re the only one, that’s why you’re the most beautiful.” “Oh, shut up!”

𔘓 Jaemin:

“Look here, honey!” Jaemin tells you as he holds out his phone camera towards you. From across the table, you cover your face slightly, shaking your head to indicate you don’t want him to take a picture of you right now. “Just take pictures of the food instead for today, Jaem,” you tell him, gently pushing his phone. Jaemin whines out a quiet “why~” as a small pout forms on his lips. “I just feel kinda ugly today,” you tell him quietly, looking down at your plate as your insecurities about your appearance overwhelms you. “Why would you say that? You’re the prettiest girl here,” Jaemin tells you and he reaches over to hold your hand in his, soothing you as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. “Of course you would say that, you’re my boyfriend…” “I’m only telling you that because it’s the truth, princess.” You look up at him and can’t help but smile, “There’s that pretty smile.” “Stop it, you’re being so corny right now,” you say as your smile only grows wider. “I know, and you love it," Jaemin tells you cheekily as he wiggles his brows at you. You can't help but laugh at his expression before two begin digging into your food.

𔘓 Chenle:

This is the fourth outfit you’re putting on and it still doesn’t look right. Your hair is flat and the top you have on just doesn’t fit you like it used to. “Chenle, how about this one?” You ask as you turn away from the full-length mirror in your shared bedroom to your boyfriend on the bed. His eyes shot up from his phone for a mere second before he blurts out a “This is nice too.” You sigh in frustration, “You’re not helping.” Chenle puts his phone down, “But I mean it? They all look nice on you. What was wrong with the previous ones anyway?” “They all looked weird.” “No they don’t?” “Yes, they do.” “Baby, you look fine… let’s just get going already.” “You don’t get it, I- Nothing fits right, and I just feel so ugly right now.” You feel so silly for acting like this. At your big age, you’re standing in front of your boyfriend with tears of frustration in your eyes because you can’t find an outfit you feel good in. Chenle immediately gets up to close the distance between you two. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he tells you as he notices the tears in your eyes. You let out a groan as you quickly wipe your tears away before they have a chance to escape. You really hate feeling this way. “Look, I really mean it when I said you look nice, okay? You always look beautiful to me.” “Really?” Chenle replies by nodding aggressively. “But I still don’t like this outfit,” you tell him as you stare at yourself in the mirror. “It’s okay, let’s put a new outfit together then. Here, I’ll help,” Chenle says as he gently drags you into your walk-in closet by your hand.

𔘓 Jisung:

The two of you are on a date and found a spot to take pretty pictures. After taking a couple of pictures together, Jisung offers to take some solo shots for you. You stand and pose while Jisung tries to take photos from flattering angles. “There, I think I got a few good ones. You look so pretty,” Jisung tells you as he hands you your phone to review the pictures. Unlike Jisung, you didn’t really like how you look. Your lack of reaction causes Jisung to question, “What’s wrong, baby?” “Nothing, I don’t know… I just feel like I look so ugly today.” Jisung shakes his head aggressively as a pout begins to form on his lip, “You’re not! It’s my fault, I’ll try to take them again.” “No, your angles are fine. It’s just me…” Jisung gazes at you as you continue to frown at the pictures on your phone. He grabs your phone, causing you to look at him. “You know you’re really not ugly, right? Stop looking at those pictures… just stand here and look pretty for me! I’ll just take a few more!” Jisung says as he takes several steps back, bending his knees and tilting his head to get the best angles. You can’t help but chuckle at the strange contortion Jisung is in and as you smile, Jisung hypes you up, “That’s it! That’s it, you’re looking so pretty right now!” It’s safe to say you like these new set of pictures better, Jisung does too, which is why he uploaded the one of you laughing at him on his instagram story, with the song: Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

#nct dream #nct dream scenarios #nct dream reactions #nct dream fluff #j0hnj4ej3n

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juvenillia · 5 months

Text

~ under my skin ~ John 'Soap' MacTavish x fem!reader [fluff/smut oneshot]

Summary: Johnny never wanted any more tattoos. Memories and people were more important to him than a little sketch on his skin. He didn't need those to be reminded of what he hold dear, because he kept all that in his heart. This opinion somehow changed when he met you and suddenly he found himself with five fresh tattoos that meant the world to him. Because these five tattoos reminded him of something he wanted to stay for eternity. The ink holding a meaning deeper than the bare eye could ever see.

a/n: this one was supposed to be a sweet short oneshot about Johnny falling for his tattoo artist but somehow it escalated very quickly and it could've been even longer but I stopped right there (for now)

tw/cw: tattooartist!reader, needles (ofc), tooth rotting fluff, smut, suggestive content, petnames, mentions of a past toxic relationship, flirting, mentions of angst, violence (but only the slightest, this is pure fluff), bestfriend!simon, comfort, love at first sight, pinning

wordcount: 10.4k [upps]

》 Read on AO3 《》 Masterpost 《

„C’mon Lt. Tell me,” Johnny bragged him for the millionth time today. They just arrived back at base after a draining operation, but as soon as Soap could turn his work brain off, he only had one thought on his mind. For three weeks there was one thing circling his thoughts and he had to pay a lot of effort to shove this one aside during the mission. Therefor he had no intentions in holding back anymore now. Three weeks ago, that was the actual day his world took a sudden turn.

Simon and he had to go undercover through London. Following a trace of a Russian insider who would lead them to their actual target. Nothing unusual. Something the 141 was used to it. Also, it wasn’t that uncommon that their trace led them to a well crowded area, where they needed to observe and find the target person. Usually, it would’ve been Gaz and Price going undercover, or some more rarely even Soap and Gaz, because they were simply the most unobtrusive, but this place literally screamed for Simon and Johnny to go. It was a tattoo convention. A place where numerous of eager artist presented their skills and works. A place where you found the most eccentrical looks. No one would bat an eye about the behemoth of a man Simon was, plus he already had numerous of tattoos covering his body. While Johnny on the other hand seemed to be just the guy looking for some new ones, next to his quite discreet one. They just blended in perfectly in between the many kinds of humans strolling through these halls.

That way they walked through the halls, keeping their eyes open to find their target. Price and Gaz stayed in touch with them over the comms, observing everything from afar, watching their six for just in case. They looked through all the booths, looked at every artist they could find. They didn’t know much about their actual target, only that he frequented a specific tattoo artist with a unique style. “Find the artist, find the man,” Laswell’s words echoed through Johnny’s head as he scanned through a portfolio of the booth he just stopped by. The works looked all perfectly made, with an amazing eye to details and such fine lines. Some medals and trophies placed next to their winning projects decorating the desk. If he ever would get another tattoo, he’d be sure to find an artist with that level of skill. Still, he really wasn’t into getting another one. Never found something with enough meaning to stay with him forever. In his job most of things were just temporally and those who weren’t, those were kept in his heart. No need to ink them into his skin. He absently browsed through the pictures of various body parts decorated with stunning grey and black artworks. His mind keeping track on the conversation Price and Ghost just shared when Johnny’s eyes just locked onto a picture of a back piece with which he was somehow familiar with.

“Something caught your interest?” a soft female voice dragged him out of his haze, but Soap only shook his head no. Closing the booklet in front of him as his eyes wandered slowly upwards to be met with a pair of bright eyes. Some of the prettiest he had ever seen sparkled into his own. Usually, he’d bring out a cheeky comment, a bold smile on his lips. But as his clear azure eyes stared into yours, no words left his throat. He was frozen in place, completely smitten. You gifted him one of your sweetest smiles, which just grew wider when you noticed another man behind the speechless Scot. “Simon!” you cried out, eagerly rounding the desk to give the man a quick hug, which he returned, somehow a bit tense. Johnny only blinked in disbelief at the two of you.

“Hey…” Simon gave your shoulder a quick pat before his eyes met Johnny’s. A warning hidden in his glare, something the Scot haven’t seen so often aimed at himself. Mostly at enemies while interrogation, but nearly never at himself. It made him swallow, before he calmed himself.

“I hope you aren’t looking for a replacement,” you teased while taking his beefy arm into your hand. Inspecting his tattoo sleeve, or better said your work from a few weeks ago. Letting your delicate fingers follow the black lines down to his wrist. Perfectly healed before he had to leave for deployment again. You always made sure he came as early as possible so that your art wouldn’t get destroyed.

“Why should I leave ‘e best?” he nudged you with his elbow, only the slightest, before you let go of his wrist. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. His eyes pinned at your figure. Softer than Johnny was used to it.

“Well, won’t argue with that.” You laughed, while pushing your hands into your hips. You wore a simple pair of black cargo pants. Pockets stuffed full of necessities for the day. Your phone, your vape, some little snacks, some business cards, a pocket mirror and your favorite lipstick, a small ring light for your phone, and stuff you could need at a convention. Headphones loosely hanging around your neck connected to your phone, and the crew tag hanging loose from your belt around your hips, where your shirt was neatly tugged into your pants. The simple shirt revealing your own tattoos on your arms. “Besides…” your voice got that teasing, nearly mocking tone again. “I’d kick your ass for cheating on me.” You punched his upper arm playfully. Knowing that you could never even cause him pain. That’s why he was one of your favorite customers, you could just pull through an eight-hour session without him growing tired or whiney. He would just sit it out, listening to your tea, sharing a quick smoke in between.

“’m sure ya do, sweetheart.” He smiled softly beneath the casual black mask. He just got dragged out of this private comfort as Johnny cleared his throat a bit too dramatic for Simon’s liking. “That’s John by the way.” A sigh left his throat as he pointed at his teammate who eagerly stepped forward to you.

“Friends call me Johnny though.” His smile reached his eyes as he reached his hand out to you and you took it, shaking it with a smile. Eventually his thumb brushed over your knuckles during the process.

“Pleasure to meet you. Heard already a lot,” you cooed, squeezing your eyes shut while crossing your arms in front of your chest. Johnny’s smile faltered for a second, thinking about the things his Lieutenant could’ve told you already. Hopefully nothing too embarrassing he thought. Just then you told him your name before he repeated it quietly. Letting its sound roll over his tongue, the same smile from earlier on his lips.

“Would love to chat with ya more, y’know, but...” Simon interrupted the scenery in front of him. His glance searching for the blue ones of his teammate, sending him a knowing glance. “work…,” he said in his usual stern manner but still calm. You only nodded your head.

“And I thought you would drop by to say hi. I’m violated, Riley.” You faked a shocked face before a chuckle left your throat. Simon’s glance softened at your statement. “My work’s also waiting.” You pointed to a guy with a naked upper body half and half-finished chest piece. “Some awards to bring home you know.” You smiled smug patting your flat palm against his chest. Simon only nodded; his brows relaxed.

Johnny couldn’t suppress his bright smile the whole time, his eyes watching every move you made. It amazed him how much at ease you were with Ghost, because Soap knew it took a lot for him to be comfortable around people. Especially civilians. But Johnny couldn’t blame him, you already got him hooked as well. That’s when something clicked in his head. “Wait a sec.” He pulled a picture out of his jacket. Simon tensed, as the Scot moved to show you said image. “Yer recognizing that style?” his voice was serious but somehow, he couldn’t suppress the adoration beneath it.

“Johnny…” Simon instantly had a scolding tone lingering in his voice. He knew from the beginning that he could’ve asked you about that specific artist. He knew you were quite known in the scene, having contacts everywhere, but he didn’t want you to get involved in all that his life was. Yes, he told you a few things about it. Especially when getting his own dog tags inked under his skin. You knew about some things he didn’t like to talk about. Especially when you decided to grab some dinner after a session, and he grew more comfortable around you. And with that he grew to become one of your closest friends. You knew many things about the ghost he was. You knew that his job was bone crushing and bloody. Still, he didn’t want you to get corrupted by it.

You ignored Simon and took the picture out of the Scot hands. Your eyes lingering on his forearm for a while - you called it occupational disease – before you investigated the work in the picture. It was nothing special for the unknown eye, but you saw anything that wasn’t traditional made. You saw every line that had a personal note in it. “Check out Mad Hatters studio, Misha I suppose. Could also be Sasha, he did learn from Misha though,” you stated while still looking at the picture.

“Thanks, bonnie.” Johnny’s tongue was faster than his mind as he once more caught himself starring at you. You looked at him, your face relaxed again. Your features were like a flame, warming him up from the inside as himself became a moth pulled to it all the way.

“Don’t even wanna know what you need from them. Good luck,” you said looking at Simon, who’s brows were ached in concern. You then turned back to Johnny. Your eyes once more clinging to the small piece on his arm. “I could do better.” You winked at him, the smug grin playing on your lips as you gave the picture back to the Scot. It caused Johnny to really start considering getting another one. He was that impulsive, and if there wasn’t that dumb job to get done, he would immediately jump onto your chair. Just to see how you would do it, just to see you more, feeling your delicate fingers running over his skin. Simon watched the scenery with an unsettled rumble in his stomach, as you walked back behind your booth and pulled some black rubber gloves out of the box. Smiling once more at the men in front of you and with a little wave you turned around to get to your model.

“Boys… focus,” Price cleared his throat and scolded them after watching the whole situation a bit longer than he should have in the first place. But still you gave them the needed evidence. You led them to the person they needed. So, the operation could process any further until they found their actual target three weeks later.

All those incidents leading us back to the day when Johnny didn’t stop to ask his Lieutenant about his tattoo artist. “Why’d ya want to know anyways?” Simon’s Manchester accent was thick as he rolled his eyes. He already knew why the Scot wanted to know. Simon knew that his teammate didn’t want any more tattoos. They had plenty of talks about it. Always when he came with a new one back from leave, Soap told him ‘not up to that Lt’. And suddenly he wanted to know your name and the studio you worked in, or better said own.

“I really want to get that one tattoo…alright. Made up ma mind.” Johnny’s nearly whiney voice pulled at the little strings that made his bag of nerves up. Simon was a patient man, especially when it came to his team. Still, he didn’t want to get you involved with more of his life. Knowing that Johnny would tell you so many stories that wouldn’t be meant for your ears. Knowing you too well, fearing that this could become more. “C’mon Lt. Please. Dinnea let me down!” Simon only rolled his eyes at him and wrote an address down. You could see his hesitation in his handwriting, but Johnny would find out this way or another.

And a few days later Johnny found himself in London, in front of a cozy looking studio. Warm lights inviting him in. A bell jingled sweet as he pushed through the door. The place lovely decorated with plants, fairy lights and some candles. Framed pictures of stunning works along the wall as he walked up to the counter. “One moment.” A familiar voice clung from the back to his ear and made him instantly smile. It was ridiculous how your voice was already imprinted in his brain from such a small encounter. “What a pleasant surprise. How can I help you, Johnny?” you cooed smiling at him. Relaxing your arms on the counter and your body weight on it.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” his voice was calm as he leaned against the counter, closer to where you placed yourself. “Gonna show me how ye can do better, bonnie.” The smug grin facing your figure. The first time you caught him off guard. This time he prepared himself.

You exhaled sharp, followed by a chuckle. “That’s not how it works, darling.” You reached to your side and pulled a book in front of him. “I have a tightly filled schedule. Didn’t Si told you how I work?” You raised a brow at him. Johnny only shook his head no, while the smile started to falter. Seeing the gloss in his eyes slowly fading made your stomach turn. Why did he affect you so much? “Damn idiot…” you pinched the bridge of your nose. You opened the book and went through the appointments of the next days. “How big you’re planning?” Your eyes scanning through the upcoming projects.

His eyes instantly lighting up again. He was like a puppy that just got told they were going to the park. It was adorable. “Well, as big as it need to be. But upper arm.” He pulled the sleeve of his shirt up to reveal his perfect toned arm and presented the area he thought of as placement. A veiny hand circling around the spot. Your eyes were pinned onto the flexing muscles as you felt a certain warmth creeping up your stomach. It’s not like you didn’t saw well shaped men rarely, but something about John MacTavish was different to say the least.

“Alright.” You slid your phone over. “Put your number in. I’ll see if I can fit you in the next days.” He eagerly took the phone and put his number in. Before you could say something or even snatch it back, he even dialed it to give himself yours. It made you chuckle as you took your phone back. You looked at the contact, there was only ‘johnny’ written with his number of course. “Lastname?”

“Already wanna take it, lass? I like straightforward.” There was that coquettish smile back on his face. His azure eyes staring into yours. “MacTavish, would suit ye though.” He slowly licked over his lips, as his eyes didn’t dare to avert from yours.

“You’d wish.” You typed his last name in. “Johnny is just a really common name, and you don’t want me to call the wrong one. Don’t you?” you teased, still a slight blush on your face. He shook his head no, while straighten himself up.

“Aye, would be a shame.” He placed his hand quickly onto yours which laid on the counter. Giving it a quick squeeze, before leaving again. “Waitin’ for yer call, bonnie.”

That call came like two days later. You managed to rearrange some appointments to clear a day for the Scot. Telling yourself that it was only because he was a friend of Simon. Not because you found quite a liking in the man and his flirtatious manner. So, two days later he was seated in your shop again. Upper half of his body completely stripped. He told you he was more comfortable with wearing no shirt at all, then pushing the sleeve up again and again. Yes, he could’ve just worn a tank-top but who were you to judge? He was quite a treat for the eyes. You just prepped his upper arm with the stencil as he told you a story how he tried to sneak into the military while he wasn’t even old enough.

“Simon was right, you’re unbelievable.” You smiled while smoothing the stencil paper over his arm. He stayed completely still, while his inside was trembling as he felt your delicate touch on his skin. Even with you wearing those gloves it gave him so much to enjoy. Desperate for more already.

“Hope he only told yer good things. Dinnea want ye to think bad of me.” He smiled sincere. His face turned to you, as you slowly removed the paper. It was close to yours, as your glance found his once more. The smile he wore reached his eyes and again you found yourself with the same warmth on your cheeks, your own lips tugged up in a genuine smile.

“Don’t worry. Only the best.” You chuckled while rolling with your stool a bit away to look at the outline of the work. “Take a look, if we can start or if you want to change a thing.” You took a mirror to let him get a proper look at the piece. “Speak now, or forever hold your peace. Because this is going to stay with you for eternity.” You were used to customers completely smitten by the stencil itself, but with Johnny it was different. His eyes were shining bright, as bright as his smile. But his eyes were more pinned on you, and not onto the future piece of art decorating his skin.

“Dinnea think of anything to change. Dae yer thing, bonnie,” he cooed, and it gave you that feeling in your guts again. Somehow you believed he didn’t even care about the tattoo itself. Still, he used something that fitted him perfectly. Well, as perfect as you could assume from Simon’s stories. And the following hours reassured you. With that you started to let the needles sink into his skin for the next seven hours. Black and white ink forming a masterpiece just after your liking while you listened to all the stories Johnny shared eagerly with you. Asking you many questions about your life beside the studio and customers. Asking about your family. You learned that he had two sisters and was really close to them as well to his mum. He shared openly so much information about himself, that you yourself kept talking about everything under the sun.

Sometimes he had to reposition his arm that you could reach a spot better. What led to a half hour of his calloused palm resting on your thigh. He couldn’t help but let his thumb stroke over the fabric of your pants. You’d lie if you said you didn’t enjoy it. With your job it came naturally to be close and kind of touchy-feely with your customers. But it wasn’t so common for you, that it affected you personally. Especially when it came so casually by him. He kept talking about that one time when his teammate, Gaz, fell out of a helicopter. Even if Johnny wasn’t there himself, he told the story so passionately that you believed you were there yourself while his thumb still caressed your thigh. His gently touch making your stomach tingle as you tried to stay focused.

Soon seven hours came to an end and a boar’s head was now engraved onto his upper right arm. Not like the usual animal portrait you so often had to do. No, it was indeed something more meaningful to him. Connecting the pride for his home country to his family, mixed with your personal note to give the tattoo a specific spice. Johnny loved it as he stood proudly in front of the mirror, investigating every line you made.

“It’s fuckin’ perfect. Bonnie, yer the best,” he exhaled while placing a quick peck onto the crown of your head while turning back to the mirror. His gesture left you breathless for only a second. Emotional outbursts after a finished session weren’t something you were unfamiliar with, but Johnny always added another note to his actions and words. A subtle undertone that gave you butterflies.

“Glad you like it.” You smiled putting on another pair of gloves on to clean the piece and wrap it up properly. “You know how to take care of it?” you said calm while placing the second skin onto the fresh wound. Johnny shook his head slightly and it earned him a chuckle. “Alright, the second skin stays on for like five days. If it loosens before, don’t break your pretty head about it. Then you wash it with usual water and cream it with special lotion. I’ll give you some. No gym, nothing to make you sweat more. No sunbathing and no swimming for the next two weeks,” you said reaching to your supplies to get a tube of tattoo med out. “You should drop by then to let me have a look. If we need to improve…redo some things, or if everything heals perfectly fine.”

“Lass could simply ask me out if ye wanna see me again.” He winked while pulling his shirt back on. His eyes never leaving your figure and finding a liking in seeing you all flustered. He was good looking; indeed, he knew the effect he held against woman. But with you it was different. He just wanted you to like him, to look at him like he thought he looked at you. Smitten.

“Not my kinda style.” You shrugged it off. What somehow demotivated the Scot. The whole time you were flirting back and forth with him, and when he discreetly asked you out, you turned so distant. He wouldn’t give up so easily though. Therefore, he was way too eager, but he called it a day. Paying you your loan and with that you somehow parted ways. The job was done, and you both went after your business.

Unfortunately, Johnny couldn’t stop by after the two weeks mark was passed. He got suddenly drafted in again, he just shot you a quick text.

Johnny MacTavish [09:03] Sry, bonnie. Works callin. Gonna make it up to ye ;)

You [10:36] Don’t ruin my masterpiece.

You [10:39] Come back alive.

Johnny chuckled silently after your second message arrived. Those three words gave him an unbearable urge to see you again. Already sitting on the truck next to Simon. “Ye couldn’t keep her away forever, Lt.,” he snickered, shoving his phone into the pocket that would stay off the fields.

“At least I tried…” Simon sighed half annoyed, but half amused. He knew both of you well enough to know, that you’d fit each other’s liking way too good. It was hard to keep up with one of you, but having both combined would bring him the death of his peace. But he was sure, that it wouldn’t become something more. At least he hoped. You had rules, and on top of the list stood: No flings with customers. Especially not after what happened with your ex. So, Simon was sure that Johnny would become at furthest a good friend to you, just like Simon did. He was as sure as he was that this operation would be easy and that nothing would keep them occupied for too long. But Simon was so very wrong about both.

The mission went south faster than Price could smoke his cigar. Kyle was the worst injured, while Johnny didn’t sustain any injuries. It made it clear again. Clear how dangerous the path was they were following. He loved his job; he wouldn’t change a thing. But to know that he almost lost his teammates, it made something to him. So, while sitting at the train station, that should bring him back to Scotland to spend some time to recover, he pulled his phone out.

Johnny MacTavish [12:29] Yer havin a free spot for yer fave Scot?<3

You [12:39] Drop by the studio tomorrow noon.

You [12:41] Sacrificing my days off for you. Make it worthy.

Johnny MacTavish [12:42] Aye!

And Johnny made sure to make it worthy. Instantly jumping on a train to London, instead of home. Booking a hotel nearby on the way and making sure to collect some stuff on the way. He picked up some good lunch on the way to the studio. Making sure to treat you right. He even thought about buying some flowers, but he didn’t want to make you somehow uncomfortable.

When he wanted to push the door once more open, it didn’t move an inch. Just then you walked up from the inside, unlocking the door and letting him in. “Hello there. C’mon in.” You held the door open for him to slide in. Locking the door once more after him, avoiding passing customers. “So, what’s the idea Mr. I don’t want any more tattoos?” you asked him mockingly, while he placed his stuff at the couch in the waiting area and unzipped his hoodie. You were used that customer often came back after the first one. Literally nobody stayed with only one of your pieces. For Johnny you were overly glad that he came back though.

“It’s even more special than before,” he said calm while pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to you. You took it in, and a little smile played on your lips. “I trust ye with it,” he added before his eyes met yours. You knew that look. It wasn’t the cheeky and playful smile. It was genuine, meaningful and he entrusted you with this, it made your heart flutter. So, you took your graphic tablet and get it to work out. Just as perfect as it needed to be.

You were seated on the couch in your waiting area next to him, while he kept telling your stories of operation and after-operation celebrations. He didn’t talk about the most recent one. You kept listening to his voice as you drew the outline for his next piece. He leaned a bit closer into your side, his head resting on your shoulder as he looked at the tablet. His talk paused. A smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You didn’t move, let him rest against you as you inhaled his scent. He smelled nothing like you’d imagine a soldier. Nothing like Simon when he came to the studio. He smelled just fresh. His mohawk holding a scent of balsam in, but also like a tone of green apple. “Something to fault it?” you asked calm.

“Yer dae even better.” Johnny let his head linger on your shoulder while his eyes scanned over the screen. There was shown a hat, a cap and a skull in your original style. Something so insignificant to others, but something so important to him. You sketched it out and prepared the stencil as he stripped his shirt once more. You stood in front of him as you looked at the piece from the last time. Checking if anything was damaged, a satisfied smile on your lips. Just then you prepared his left chest for the three symbols. His hands twitched as you stroke over his chest, and he just wished for you to ditch those damn gloves. His eyes pinned down to your figure, as you wore a little smile, while your fingers worked over his chest.

It took another good amount of time to get this piece done. You took more breaks this time. Sharing some of the food he brought, and many laughs, while he laid on the flat bed and your next to him. Carefully going after the lines of the stencil, while his arm slipped around you and his hand lingered on your waist so often during the process. You didn’t mind. Neither of you said something about it, just enjoyed the company, the closeness as you shared some more chats. But sooner than later this session come to an end. That way you found yourself standing next to him, observing his face as he looked at the latest addition in the mirror. A smile playing on his lips. It wasn’t like the bright and toothy ones; it was heart melting and genuine. Something so meaningful. “Tapadh leat,” he said a bit absently. It made you raise your brows. His eyes finding yours, while his hands finding your waist. “Thank ye,” he repeated for you to understand, and you smiled, while he didn’t dare to pull you closer. His huge palms only squeezing your side a bit as you stood in front of each other.

“It’s my job, Johnny,” you said calm. And he shook his head no, while he once more squeezed your waist what made you tilt your head in confusion slightly. But you didn’t give it another thought. You wrapped his tattoo up; he pulled his clothes on again and you went to the front desk for the check out. You broke down the skin routine once more with him, but he interrupted you.

“Go out with me,” he said abruptly before you could even say something more. His voice was desperate, but at the same time so gentle.

“MacTavish…” you sighed while your own heart ached. You had your rules. A rule you broke once, and it was the worst decision you ever made. Simon had to help you back then to free you from the stalker your ex-customer and ex-boyfriend was. And with his leaving you lost many regular customers and friends. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it again, even if you knew that Johnny would be different. Even when your heart screamed to just say yes to him.

“Otherwise, I need to come back every time on leave to get another one.” His voice gave you some hints of a joke, still you weren’t so sure about it if he really was joking. His eyes were filled with a certainty, a determination. You averted your eyes.

“I am sorry…” you said calm. But he only declined it. His face a bit defeated, but still something told you he wasn’t done with the thought. Simon told you once how stubborn this man could be, so you steeled yourself, hoping that you wouldn’t give in. Even if it would be hard when those azure eyes literal begged for you to do so.

“Gonna stay ‘n London for three weeks. If ye make up yer mind. Ye ken how to find me,” he said while leaving your studio.

You exhaled deeply after closing the door after him. Waving after him as he crossed the street. His eyes still bright as always. You cleaned up the studio and went to the front desk for a last time today. As you flipped you through the bills to put them away something different caught your interest. A little paper neatly folded between the notes. You took it and unfolding it. It revealed a sketch of your own face. It was a unique art style, and it made your heart ache even more. Under the sketch was something written in a sloppy handwriting. ‘nae stunning as the original’ You pressed the paper to your chest, while a desperate chuckle left your throat. “John MacTavish…you’re gonna be the death of mine,” you said calm to yourself as you put the drawing into your personal journal.

“He came for ‘nother one?” It was a few days after your gripping encounter with the Scot when Simon was seated in your studio again. Working to add a new part to his back piece. You only nodded, even if he couldn’t see it. “Ya like him, don’t ya?” The Brit said calm. You paused your work for a second. Not answering him was answer enough for Simon, what made him chuckle deeply.

“Si…” you exhaled while continuing your work. You wanted to say so much about that topic because he was right. You liked him. He already reserved a place in your heart for himself and the last days were only filled with that god damn genuine smile of the Scot. You found yourself often at night looking at the portrait he gifted you. Asking yourself how long you’d be able to turn him down.

“Tomorrow, drinks at yer place.” It wasn’t an offer, more like an order and you sighed. Not like you and Simon didn’t spend some time of sessions together. You were close after all. Drinking and talking or just watching some stupid shows together at your apartment. Even if the thought of you meeting his teammate still annoyed Simon, he couldn’t bring himself to watch two idiots pinning for each other when it was way too obvious. And even if he wouldn’t admit it for anyone to hear, seeing two of the people he liked the most falling for each other, it made the coldness of his own heart melt. You only needed a little excuse to ditch your rules. Even if Simon hated to break those. If it meant that you could finally be happy again after your ex, he was willing to help.

Lt💀 [17:09] 1900 at the studio

John MacTavish [17:11] What yer up to Lt?

Lt💀 [17:15] Don’t ask stupid questions.

Johnny knew better than asking more questions, so he got ready and made sure to be punctual. It was Sunday, so the studio was indeed closed as he stood in front of it at 18:56. As Simon walked around the corner, wearing all casual sweatpants and a hoodie, Johnny was even more confused. The Brit had a plastic bag from a nearby grocery store in one hand. “C’mon Johnny.” He punched his shoulder playfully while walking around the studio, aiming for a door in the side alley.

“Mind fillin’ me in, Lt?” he arched his brow at him while trailing close after him. Hands pushed into the pockets of his denim pants. Somehow, he felt overdressed next to the way too casual look of his Lieutenant.

Simon looked at his watch, waiting for another minute to pass. So, it was actual 7 p.m. and he pressed the button of an intercom. “It’s Simon for tonight,” he said, shooting Johnny a glare who only looked more confused but raising his hands in defense. The door started to buzz, and Simon pushed it open, signaling Johnny to follow him. Climbing some stairs before they found themselves in front of another door, which already stood a gap open. So, Simon naturally walked in, kicked his shoes of and Johnny followed his lead.

“Hello there,” you chimed while walking up to give Simon a quick hug, which he returned before ditching his mask. Your eyes switching to Johnny who just wore a stunned smile. He had thought of many things to happen tonight, but not to find himself in your apartment together with his Lieutenant and a various beers and whiskeys.

You all shared some good laughs, some amazing and catching stories. You told them about some cringe customers and very hilarious stories they shared with you. Johnny and Simon entertained you with sharing stories of their daily events. Johnny didn’t know what excited him more, the way he saw his stoic superior so at ease around you. Joking, laughing and even open so much. Or the fact that you were seated next to him, somehow always having one of his limbs touching any part of you as his eyes were glued to your lips.

It was an easy-going evening when you all had way too many drinks. You were just on the way to bring some empty bottles over to the kitchen when you could hear the teasing voice of Simon once more. “For a lad, that didn’t want any more tattoos, ya fast with getting’ new ones,” he joked, and Johnny only scratched his neck. His cheeks tainted red, mostly from the alcohol running through his system you supposed. “Ya know, Kyle even bet ya’d get a trump stamp if necessary.”

Johnny let out a wholehearted laugh. To be honest, if his whole body was already covered in tattoos and this would be the only way to see you again. He’d do it without hesitation. Hesitation was something you didn’t know today either. Just like that you walked over to the Scot. “Real talk now.” Without a warning you sat down, straddling his lap as your arms found his shoulders. Johnny only swallowed, sobered up so suddenly as you pushed your body weight onto him. “If you ever get a tramp stamp and I am not the person to do it… we won’t have a shared future darling,” you said mockingly, while your hands found some loose strains of his hair. Simon only laughed as he leaned back in the armchair, sipping on the beer in his hand. Watching the scenery in front of him in amusement.

“Bonnie, yer the only one for me. Ya ken,” he said while his beefy hands found your waist, helping to stabilize you on top of him. His words held much more meaning in it than you’d realize in your drunken state. His heartbeat quickened up as your fingers played with his hair. The redness of his cheeks rose, just like a certain tightness in his pants. He just hoped to not scare you away. But he was sure he wouldn’t be able to hide it, you simply had to feel it the way you were seated just above the bulge.

You only laughed. Eventually you felt his arousal, eventually you just chose to not pay any attention to it. “Then let’s do it,” you joked, leaning a bit back to look at him properly. He looked flabbergasted back at you.

“Sweetheart, yer drunk,” Simon cooed, and Johnny literally forgot that the Brit was there until this very moment. At this point, he felt somehow embarrassed but also thrilled at the same time.

“Darling. You’d be able to kill a man when drunk. Aren’t ya?” you tilted your head to the Brit with a devilish smile. Simon only sighed, and your smile grew. “See! And I can tattoo then.” You laughed, turning your attention back to the Scot, who by now started to let his thumbs stroke over your waist, drawing lazy circles into the fabric of your top. “What you’re saying, love?” your mischievous smile aimed at him as your eyes pierced into his.

“Fuck it. Let’s dae it,” he said. The alcohol running through his veins was the main reason he agreed, but how could he deny you, when you were so beautifully seated above him. Hands stroking a long his neck and hairline what sent shivers down his spine. His mind was hazy, and he didn’t care for any consequences.

“That’s my boy!” You laughed while slowly standing up. “Benefits of living just above the studio.” You reached for the keys to the studio and signaled the men to follow you. Just a few minutes later you found yourself in the studio downstairs, everything prepared for this very spontaneous and somehow dumb idea. If you’d be sober, you’d never agreed on it. Giving a tattoo to a drunken person is indeed very unreasonable. The body tend to bleed way more with alcohol rushing through it. Quite apart from being drunk yourself. But who said that you made wise decisions in the whole process?

Johnny was positioned on his stomach on the flat bad. His shirt gone once more, and his pants awkwardly pulled down to reveal the required spot. Simon was seated next to you, as you started to draw a tramp stamp freehand on his lower back. For this part you ditched the glove and Johnny couldn’t be happier about it. At the same time, he found himself in quite the misery. This tattoo session giving him a literal hard time, while Simon talked with you the whole time and Johnny only felt your delicate skin onto him. Simon laughed from time to time about the design or the muffled groans the Scot let out. Johnny was certain that Simon did fairly well know about his misery.

In your current state the tattoo took way longer than it would usually have been. But you didn’t mind. The delicious view in front of you made it easier to pull through. And now while your mind was flooded with those inappropriate thoughts, you couldn’t suppress the longing the Scot caused deep in your heart.

“What’d you think, Si?” you placed the tattoo gun down and looked at the artwork, wiping the excess ink away. It wasn’t your masterpiece, but you were more than satisfied.

“Bloody ‘ell. ‘s perfect.” Simon laughed, while looking at the lower back of the Scot.

“Lemme see.” Johnny carefully stood up and walked over the mirror. You haven’t talked about a design, he trusted you to just do your thing and the face he just wore made it so worthy. Even if he would’ve been pissed seeing it. “Haud yer wheesht!” Johnny stood in front of the mirror and looked over his shoulder to see a squiggly tribal leading to the center of nothing else than a unicorn.

“You don’t like it?” you walked up to him, standing just in front of him as he faced you again. There was no regret in his face, only a smile on his lips before he started to laugh wholeheartedly. He pulled you close to his chest as he kept laughing and you just joined him. Placing your hand gentle on his bare back as you started to giggle yourself. It felt way too comfortable.

“Wait a damn minute.” It was Simon who interrupted the scenery. Pulling you a bit away from him. Not forcefully, not to cause any harm. He looked stunned at the chest of the Scot, while his hand was still placed on your shoulder from his earlier action. “Ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” he said with disbelief in his voice staring at the three familiar icons on the bare chest in front of him.

Johnny only smiled at him. “Surprise.” His hands stayed at your hips, as all of you three started to laugh at the situation. One of your hands pulling at Simon’s shirt what led to a tight hug shared between the three of you.

Time passed and you haven’t heard of one of them in the next months. You were used to it through your friendship with Simon. But now it was different. It bugged you more than before. Of course, you always did kind of worry for the man, but now there were two men you struggled about. You needed to fight the internal urge to shoot him a message. Asking if he’d be fine and safe, but you didn’t. Not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of him.

It already turned fall when and you started to decorate the studio. The whole place screamed Halloween now, but it wasn’t enough. One of your favorite seasons and it needed to be celebrated right. It was already quite late as you received a text that your appointment for tomorrow cancelled due to sickness. You hated last minute cancellations because you wouldn’t find any replacement. But this time it was somehow fine. The last days were so stuffed full that you could actually look forward to a day off. So, you made plans to go shopping for even more decorations. Enjoying a day off just for yourself. Well, that was your actual plan. A plan that got thrown over as soon as you noticed a familiar face walking through the front door. You turned around and greeted him with a bright smile. Relieve settling in your bones to see him again. He walked strictly up to you and only stopped a few centimeters away. “Johnny.” Before you could even say anything more, he pulled you close to his chest, and you completely engulfed in his embrace. He buried his head into the crook of your neck, as your hands found his back. Drawing lazy circles on his back.

You didn’t know how long you stood there. You didn't know how long until you spoke again. “I can make you some tea and we can talk. If you want to,” you offered with a soft voice, your hand still caressing his back through the thick layers of his jacket.

“Need something stronger.” Was his only response. So, you closed the store and brought him upstairs. He instantly sank down on your couch as you grabbed the bottle of whiskey and purred him a glass. “Thanks, bonnie,” he said calm while taking the glass. You sat next to him; your eyes filled with concern. The usual smile washed away from his face.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Johnny,” you literally begged him. Your hands finding his thigh, what made him look at you. His eyes were still the same azure ones you fell for, but somehow, they looked pale. He looked drained and tired.

He leaned closer to you, until his forehead was resting against yours. Eyes closed, while his hand found the back of your head. “I was scared…” His voice just above a whisper. A quiet confession. “so fuckin’ scared…that I wouldn’t be able to see you again.” His fingers stroked through your hair as you closed your eyes. Trying to suppress the sudden burn you felt in your eyes. His honesty broke your mind and the sheer thought of not being able to reunite with him anymore, it broke your heart. But he was here with you. He was safe with you. Still, you were only friends. You shouldn’t feel those things for your friend.

“I am here, Johnny.” Your voice was soft as your palms found his chest. “I am not going anywhere.” You added a little reassuring tone before he pulled his head only a centimeter away from yours. His blue eyes somewhat brighter than before, staring in yours. You melted right there as his other hand discarded the glass to reach out to your cheek. Your eyes were glued onto the gaze he gifted you. His eyes filled with adoration as the corner of his lips slightly tugged up again.

“Please…” His thumb stroked over your cheek before it took a gentle grip of your jawline. “Let me kiss you.” His glance darted between your lips and your eyes, waiting for your response with anticipation. The slight movement of your head giving him permission was the only thing he needed. Instantly closing the gap between you, as his lips brushed over yours. Gentle and soft, and still you could feel how he held back. The hand on the back of your head pulling you closer. Your hands found his neck as your melted into his touch. You broke away for a second looking into his eyes once more. They were blown with lust and endearment. No way you could retreat anymore.

“Johnny…” Your voice was soft as you pulled him back. You slowly leaned down on the couch and he immediately followed you, hovering just above you. “I am not a person for a one-night stand.” Your voice cracked a bit, but the smile on the Scots face reassured you instantly.

“Who said I’d leave ye.” He connected your lips once more. More eagerly, more lust filled, and you followed his lead. Taking a tight grip onto his neck. If you thought he was hard in the drunken state a few months ago, you were wrong. Nothing compared to the need he felt right now, growing every second as his kisses grew sloppier. Openmouthed wandering down to your neck. A moan left your throat as his teeth gently sank into the soft flesh of your neck. You could feel how everything in you screamed to take him. To feel him.

He leaned back to pull his shirt over his head, revealing his perfect shaped body. A body you had seen so many times before during his appointments, but now everything felt different. He played with the hem of your shirt before he helped you strip out of it. “Like a goddess,” he praised while his calloused hands roamed down your body. Followed by passionate kisses and gently nibbles down to the waistband of your pants. “Let me taste ye hen,” he plead while toying with the hem of your pants.

“Go on, love.” Your voice was filled with so much adoration, it sent electric jolts through his body. He started to fidget with your trousers to free you. Just as your pants landed on the floor, you could feel the cold breeze brushing against the hot spot between your legs. His finger carefully brushing over it. Your panties already soaked, what made him groan with anticipation.

“’st tell me when something feels wrong,” he said soft before pushing the black lace aside to let his mouth take care of your cunt. As soon as he let his tongue slid through your folds you already arched your back. Another groan was heard as his hand took grip of your hips. He ate like a man starved, while you cried out his name. Johnny had to pull himself together not to cum right there as he tasted you. Everything in him screamed to let go. He couldn’t wait any longer. Not when you were so pretty spread only for him. He stood up, liking over his lips as you looked at him. Your chest heaving. “Cannae wait any longer. ‘m sorry, pet.” He unbuckled his belt and discarded his trousers, followed by his briefs. It made his hardened member jump against his stomach. You parted your lips at the sight. He was an average man, but still shaped like an image out of your wildest dreams. He climbed back on the couch to hover over you. Leaning on one arm, the free one was between your bodies. His hand guiding his cock along your folds. Your hand found his back as your eyes locked again.

“The impatient man you are, John MacTavish.” Your smile enlightened the passion within him even more, as he let the tip slid through your entry. Teasing you with a mischievous smile. Your nails digging into his back as your breath got caught in your throat. “Johnny…” You whined into his mouth while he kept it occupied with his heated kisses.

“Who’s the one impatient now, mo ghraidh?” His smug grin only grew as his lips caught yours in another kiss as he pushed himself inside. You cried out while he gave you some time to adjust. He ditched everything, the prep, the foreplay, he needed you right now and for the loving woman you’re, you couldn’t even try to protest, as it already made you feel that good. You wanted to be good for him, and only him.

“Takin’ me so good,” he praised while pushing deeper in. Feeling your plushy walls around his length already sent him into an abyss. It took him a bit longer to fully button out, letting you adjust to his seize. Showering you with more praise and kisses. As your body started to relax more he started to move. Rolling his hips against yours, letting him slip out and in again. “Hells bells…,” he cried out as he thrusted into your tight hole. His hands holding you tight against him. His forehead pressed to your temple.

Both of you knew you wouldn’t last long. The longing, the desire that grew over the time so huge that it became unbearable anymore. But he promised you that it wouldn’t be just a casual fling. He promised to stay. All the pent-up emotions leading you to the edge so soon. “I’m so close.” He didn’t slow down at your words. Rather pushing his pace up as he felt your walls pulsating.

“I ken.” He kissed your forehead, as your nails dig deeper into the skin of his back. “’st let go, for me.” He assured you while he pulled himself together. Your hands forcing him impossible closer to you as you felt your walls clenching around him as he rocked against that spongy spot inside you. You nodded fast as you buried your head into the crook of his neck, while he pushed his body weight onto you. Kissing your temple as he went deeper and slower. Rolling his hips to keep pushing at that same spot.

The heat building up as it felt unbearable anymore. He pushed you over the edge and you could feel how his length started to twitch inside. You only nodded before he could even ask, while your head stayed pressed against his shoulder. Your orgasm washing over you so hard, that tears started to form in the corner of your eyes. Completely clouding your mind. Somehow, you had to compensate the overwhelming sensation, so your teeth found his neck and you bit in his flesh as he painted your walls white. A deep groan leaving his throat as he rode out his high. You only loosened your jaw as your tongue could sense the taste of iron. You fell back as he collapsed on top of you. He placed another kiss onto your temple. “Dae so good for me, mo ghraidh,” he cooed while your hands clung to his back.

“Will you stay?” your voice was low, brushing over his skin. Somehow scared that this wasn’t real. That his promise wasn’t real. That he wasn’t serious. Even if you knew deep down that those eyes couldn’t lie. And even if they did, you were too addicted of him, you would just accept it that way.

“Inside ye?” The smug grin that reached his eyes was finally back on his lips as he propped himself up a bit. You punched him playfully.

“No, you idiot. In general.” You looked into his now softened eyes. He placed another kiss onto your lips. He slowly pulled out and gently stroked some damp hair from your forehead away. He didn’t need to answer that. Actions were louder than words. He made sure you took a relaxing bath together and afterwards just cuddled up in your bed.

“I’m nae goin’ anywhere.” He kissed your temple while pulling you in his chest. Spooning you and you just curled yourself up, clinging to the strong arm around you. Already on the way to drift away with him being all around you. You couldn’t even wish him sweet dreams anymore.

The next morning felt unreal. As you woke up you found the side next to you already empty. A sigh left your throat as you walked into the living room. After your actions of last night, you slept in nothing more than a fresh pair of panties and his shirt. You stopped in front of the mirror in the hallway to your living room. It looked hilarious how big his shirt was on you. A smile crept on your face as you noticed a low humming.

“Mornin’ bonnie.” Johnny came out of the bathroom, instantly pulling you close to him again. He only wore his briefs. A sight you never wanted to miss anymore. His tattoos by now perfectly healed.

Suddenly something different caught your interest. “I am sorry.” Your eyes wandered to the mark you left on his neck. It was slightly bruised, and you could clearly see an imprint of your teeth. Johnny looked at you and then at himself in the mirror. Examining the spot on his neck and a smile crept on his lips.

“Dinnea need to.” He turned to you, pulling you close to him once more. “Tattoo it.” His words rolled so easily over his lips. You blinked at him in confusion. “’m nae jokin’.”

“Johnny… that’s…a confession…quite possessive”. You tried to find the right words which was hard. You didn’t even know what you actually were, and he wanted you to tattoo your bite mark onto him. Maybe it was like a kink to him? Maybe he was just that cocky. But he didn’t give you space to let your mind wander any more.

“That’s the whole fuckin’ point.” He placed a kiss onto your forehead. “I want the whole world to see who I belong to.” Your heart skipped a beat at his words. It was his way to show you, that this indeed wasn’t just a one-night stand. A love drunken smile crept on your face.

“You’ll regret it sooner or later.” You stated while your fingers brushed over the mark.

“But what if…” He placed a kiss onto your head. “…what if I dinnea.” He smiled at you, watching how your eyes scanned the spot.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I am yer eejit.” He corrected you without hesitation. “If ye let me though.”

You pushed your face into his chest, and he wrapped his beefy arms around you. “Let’s get some breakfast first.” Your voice nothing more than a mumble against his chest, which vibrated due to his laugh, nodding before following you into the kitchen.

Did Johnny spend his whole time on leave at your place in London? Eventually. Just as he got a text from his Captain he left with a sad look in his face, but he promised to return safe. He now had a reason to return. Was the time on operations harder? Not really. You worried as much as before, but now you were officially allowed to text him or Simon to look after each other. Did he get teased by Gaz for the new tattoo found at his neck more than the tramp stamp? Equally Simon would say. But Johnny didn’t mind because both held a unique and deep meaning in his heart. Just like his love for his home country shown through the boar on his upper arm, with what he also had the connection to his family on him. Just like the tattoo symbolizing his teammates, his second family, just above the spot where his heart pumped in his chest. And for every man that would mock him for the tamp stramp he’d flash them in the gym, he only smiled wide, giving them a wink. Knowing that this tattoo marked the start of one of the best things happening in his life. An evening with two of the most important people to him. An evening that he’d forever cherish.

At this point John MacTavish was sure that he was done with getting tattoos. He had the things that were most important to him now immortalized onto his skin. But sometimes this man was in the very wrong. Because about two years later, he found himself once more surrounded by the buzzing of a tattoo gun. Two years that were spent in the fields with his team to make the world a better place. Just to return into your arms at the end of the day. In those two years he never regretted any line you placed onto his body. And he never would regret the fifths tattoo he was just about to get. It was different than the times before.

He was surrounded by his teammates, and your closest friends. Really just the closest of the inner circle. Keeping it as discreet as possible. The big day with everyone would be postponed to another date. But as always, Johnny wasn’t a patient man, so he wanted to have something beforehand. Something just for both of you before he had to go save the world again. That way he wore a casual decent but still traditional fit. The red and blue of his family’s tartan painted his kilt. The same tartan the scarf had you wore around your shoulders. A decent dress below, as you let the needles sink into his skin once more. His hand in yours as you tattooed a simple line around his ring finger. A similar one you already had on your hand. The first and only tattoo the Scot would ever give someone was now around your finger.

Just as you finished you kissed once more, while smiling at each other like the love drunken birds you were, as everyone around you clapped and cheered at you. Your studio filled with so much love and joy like never before. A moment you will always look back to in awe.

“I told ye, MacTavish would suit ye.” He teased while holding you close. His words nearly drowning between the noises of your friends and family.

You punched him playfully against his chest. “I love you too, eejit.”

“Don’t they have to say like I do or anything like that,” Kyle mumbled over to Simon, who just shrugged but smiled at the couple, now husband and wife, in front of him.

Even if you were glad that all the important ones were here around you, in the end only on person mattered to you. And that was the man holding you close in his embrace as he leaned his forehead against yours like he did millions of times before. Every night wondering if he’s alright. Every day waiting for his return. Every nightmare you endured. Everything was so worthy, just to have him close next to you and see him smile down at you. And everything started with a tattoo he never even wanted in the first place. A tattoo that led to four more. A tattoo that gave him a life with you by his side, because from the moment he met you, you went under his skin and there was no way he could ever escape it. Not that he even wanted to.

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thetriumphantpanda · 3 months

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LOST IN OUR VICES | ONE

Chapter Summary | A chance encounter with a handsome stranger sets off a chain of events that could all end in disaster. It's hard to say no when it feels so good though.

Pairing | Professor!Marcus Pike x Student F!Reader

Chapter Warnings | Dubious ethical relationship between a professor & student, Marcus tells a lie, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of academia, academic failure and strained parental relationships, gratuitous descriptions of London because I live here and I love it, some heavy making out and some heavy petting, no use of y/n.

Authors Note | WELL HERE SHE IS. I have no idea how to tell you how much I am loving this so far. Professor Pike has well and truly rotted my brain so y'all have to suffer with me okay? It's gonna be fun, I promise. I would LOVE to know what you all think about this so feel free to scream at me incumbents, reblogs and asks! As always, a huge thank you to @undercoverpena for reading this over and making sure it isn't utter tripe. ILY. And to @saradika for the beautiful divider.

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’s seen her there every day he’s visited the past month. Sitting on the bench, looking up at the same sculpture - a woman carved from marble - sketching into a notepad. He stands this time and watches as her finger tucks some hair behind her ear, brushing it out of her face. She looks up and tilts her head a little, eraser end of her pencil sitting between her teeth as she thinks, tracers a portion of the statue before her head is back down, looking at the page as she continues to draw.

She’s beautiful, there’s no denying it, she’s been beautiful every time he’s seen her. There’s something lonely about her too, the way she sits there on her own, artefacts and artworks for company. She’s just like him really, uprooted from a life he was no longer satisfied with, four years of a PhD and now the letters of Dr before his name. Moved to London, a new city, a fresh start as he’d coined it to his family, but he’s been here three years now, and not one thing that he wanted from his move have materialised. He knows the therapy was good for him, he knows that his haste to find someone was probably what was making him scare people off, but he doesn’t much like the other side of the coin either - a modest flat in London to himself, a small group of friends who sit around and drink beer and droll on about their academic passions, but no-one he can really call his own right now.

Dr. M Pike. Professor of Art History. That’s what his doorplate says, one of many in the small corridor at UCL. Three years and he’s still not quite sure how he made it here, or if it’s really what he wants, but it beats whatever he was doing back in D.C. that’s for sure. It had seemed like the best thing to do at the time, but when Lisbon had told him she wasn’t coming, everything about it seemed wrong, soiled somehow, by the life he’d built in his mind being torn up by someone who, looking back, had never really wanted him in the first place.

He thought about talking to her the first day he’d seen her, but then realised he was actually here to prepare for one of his teaching seminars, so squirrelled himself away to another room instead. The second time he’d seen her, she’d looked too engrossed on whatever she was working on, and then every other time, he’s convinced himself she’s here for peace, not to be bothered by some random man. But there’s something about the way she is today that makes the pull harder to resist, so he says fuck it, shoves his hands into his trouser pockets and walks over.

“You come here often?”

It’s an American accent that pulls you from your work. His voice jolts your hand, makes you press your pencil into paper too hard and at the wrong angle. You suck in a deep breath, try not to think about the hours of work he’s just ruined by startling you. You’re about to turn around and complain when he comes into your vision.

He’s tall, broad shoulders covered in a light dress shirt, two buttons undone so you can see a flash of tanned skin and a smattering of hair. It’s tucked into dark jeans, a belt keeping them tight to his trim waist. And then there’s his face - a beard, but only just and friendly brown eyes, a full mouth too. He’s handsome, there’s no way around it.

“Sorry, that was awful,” The mystery man scratches the back of his neck, “I just come here a lot and I think I’ve seen you here every time for the past month.”

You smile at that, that you’re someone he’s been picking out amongst the crowd of tourists who always come here, someone familiar to him, even if he’s not the same to you.

“I’m just working on something.” You shrug, letting your palm slyly cover the sketch you’ve been making.

The man walks in front of you slightly, takes a seat on the vacant spot on the bench and looks up at the woman carved from marble, “She’s beautiful.” He muses.

“She is.” You agree, looking over the curves of her hips, the way the marble has been carved to make it look like her clothes are wet, sticking to her breasts like she’s just climbed out of the Aegean Sea.

“You like sculpture then?”

“I do,” You nod, turning your body a little towards him, “It’s not my first artistic passion, but I’m studying for my PhD at the moment and it’s all about the female form in marble.”

“Brains as well as beauty,” He smirks a little at you, “Sounds interest though, where are you studying?”

“UCL,” You beam, because you’re proud, it wasn’t easy, you’d been rejected for your first choice research project the first time around, encouraged to choose something else from the feedback, but you were there now, and that’s what mattered, “What about you?” You ask, “What do you do that means you have to be here as much as me?”

He shrugs a little, “I teach.”

It’s vague but you don’t press, he owes you nothing, so you let it lie. You turn back to the sculpture in front of you, when your stomach grumbles. You look down at your watch. It’s 2pm and you’ve not eaten anything yet.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.” You reply meekly.

“Want to grab something to eat?” He asks, “I know a great Italian place in Soho if you fancy it?”

You look at him, eyes tightening a little. It’s been so long since anyone has shown you an ounce of interest, and now the beautiful man in a shirt and dress pants wants to take you for lunch, it all seems a bit too good to be true. But, you can hear the voice of your therapist tell you to say yes to more things, take more risks in life because not all of them are going to turn out to be bad, so you flip the front of your notepad over to cover your drawing and reach down to pick up your backpack.

“Lead the way.”

He doesn’t disappoint. Over the course of a glass of wine and a bowl of olives, you coax out his name. It’s Marcus. He’s got a PhD in Art History and moved to London from D.C. three years ago. He lives alone, near Notting Hill, he likes it because he can go searching for antiques on the weekend. He wants a dog, but he spends too much time out of the house to justify one. He likes to read and he can cook, but prefer eating out or ordering in because he’s not mastered the art of cooking for one.

When a waiter sets down your second glass of wine and your food - gnocchi with pesto and bacon for you and carbonara from Marcus, he turns the conversation back to you, sipping wine as he ask you where you live - Willesden Green, so not far from you - who you live with - myself, my dad was so proud I got into my course he pays for my rent, it’s the only way he can show he loves me - what you like to do with your free time - free time? When I have it, I read, or I walk, or I sit and draw sculptures in museums.

You don’t know whether it’s the wine or not, but the dark winter sinks in, outside cloaked in black, lights dimmed inside, and it makes him even more handsome than he was before. He makes you laugh, with his stories of his own PhD stress, how he would walk the streets of D.C. at 3am to get coffee and pancakes on his way back from the library and then collapse into bed and sleep for two hours until his alarm would wake him up and he would go all the way back to the library to do it again.

“If I ever get to that point,” You muse, stabbing a piece of gnocchi onto your fork, “I don’t think I’ll have the will to make it through.”

“You seem far too organised to me to fall into the bad habits I had.” He shrugs, looking at you over his own glass of wine as you take a bite of your food, too busy watching him to really notice the angle of your fork, green sauce smearing on the corner of your mouth as you fight it into your mouth.

Before you have a chance to reach down and grab the napkin from your lap, Marcus is reaching over the table, using the pad of his thumb to wipe the stray sauce away. It’s something that under any other circumstance would make you feel uncomfortable, but all it really makes you want to do is kiss him, especially when he apologises profusely for being so forward.

He pays for dinner, insists on it really, hidden behind the excuse that he knows how hard it is to live whilst studying. He takes you for cocktails at a bar on the end of Old Compton Street - orders himself an old fashioned whilst you opt for an amaretto sour. The bar is dark and busy, the only seats are in a corner, sat so close together your knees are touching and your shoulder is slightly leaned into his side.

“So, you said you got rejected from your first choice course?” He muses, taking a short sip of his drink.

You shrug with a nod, “I wanted to research the impressionist movement,” You start to explain, “I love Monet and Renoir but I think my research application was too broad,” Sipping your own drink you carry on talking, “There’s a great academic at UCL, Professor Pike, I was desperate to have him as my supervisor, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

You turn your head a little, watching as Marcus swallows on nothing, quickly taking another sip of his drink.

“It’s okay,” You hasten to add, “I guess if I’m not writing thousands of words about it, it won’t make me hate what I love most.”

“Smart,” Is what he says with a smirk, “You would have given him a run for his money anyway.”

“Do you know him?” You ask, “I know all of you academic types are familiar with each other.”

He swallows on nothing again, “I’ve heard of him but I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

You both order another drink, sit around talking about nothing much at all, slowly moving closer as the bar gets busier, you tell yourself it’s just so you can hear him better, but he smells good, some kind of musky cologne that suits him really well, so you don’t complain about soaking it up.

When it gets late, he offers to take you home, keep you company on the tube. You know it’s not really necessary, you’ve never felt particularly unsafe walking home from the station, but if it means spending more time with him, then you don’t really mind. He lets you take the only free seat on the tube, standing in the aisle just in front of your knees so he can keep talking to you, and when you reach the other side, he walks close to you, puts a hand on your lower back which you can feel through your jacket when a group of people walk past you a little too close. He even insists on walking you to your door.

It’s quiet in the building, like it usually is. It’s only recently been built and you think you’re one of only a few people who are currently living there. You pluck your keys from your coat pocket when you reach your door, leaning your back against it.

“This is me.”

“Nice place.”

“Yeah, although I usually prefer places with more character.”

He’s stood right in front of you, rocking on his heels, that same nervous hand on the back of his neck as this afternoon, “I know this might seem weird, but would you like to go on a date sometime?”

You can help but snort a laugh, shaking your head a little, before you meet his eyes, “This wasn’t a date?” You ask coyly.

He smirks a little, cheeks flushing a little, “Did you want it to be a date?”

“I wouldn’t have let you take me for lunch if I didn’t,” You say, “But there is one thing missing.”

“Oh yeah?” He hums, “What’s that?”

Instead of speaking, you take a step forward, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket as you press up onto your toes and plant your lips on his. It’s clumsy and it’s impulsive, but you’ve wanted to do it all day. You can feel his arms wrapping around your back, dragging your body flush to his as he opens his mouth against yours right as you do the same. He tastes like mint from the gum he’s been chewing and the whisky from his drinks - it’s all you can think about as he walks you back, presses you against the door as his tongue meets with yours.

You’re thankful no-one is around. Your arms move from his jacket to wrap around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the curls there as you tilt your head to one side, a slight smacking sound from your lips as the disconnect, only to come back together seconds later. He’s good at this, you think, as his hands drop from your back to rest in the pockets on the back of your jeans, palms warm through the material. You can feel him squeeze you there a little, and you’re so close to saying fuck it and inviting him in, because if his lips are this good against yours, you can’t imagine what they’d be like in other places.

Marcus is the one that pulls away from you, resting his forehead gently to yours. You’re both breathless and you’re itching to press your mouth back to his.

“I should go.” He breathes against your mouth, pressing his lips to your in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah,” You agree, “You should.”

He steps back, takes the warmth of his palms with him, but reaches in to his pocket and hands his phone to you, “Put your number in here and I’ll call you.”

So you do, press the eleven digits into his phone along with your name and then kiss him once more before he’s turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you with a dull ache between your thighs that you’re working on relieving within five minutes of getting inside. You’re fucked.

Marcus curses himself as he settles into the seat on the bus. It’s late enough that it’s not too busy, no-one sitting next to him as he leans his head back and runs his hand over his face. He already knows he’s fucked up. The words Professor Pike and rejected from my first choice spinning around in his brain as he watches parts of North London flash past the window on his ride home.

Why hadn’t he stopped it then? He knows the rules, knows that even though he doesn’t teach her, any kind of relationships with students, no matter how mature, are off limits. And how is he supposed to keep the facade up now? It’s only a matter of time before she puts two and two together and figures out who he really is.

You’re sweet and you’re smart and you’re fucking beautiful and the best kisser he thinks he’s ever met. You have so much in common with him that it actually hurts him a little and one stupid choice to keep lying to you and the fucking ethics policy are going to keep him from something he thinks would actually be fucking good for him.

He thinks for a second, pulling out his phone and looking at your contact card that he should probably just delete your number. It’s for the best for everyone. He could avoid the museum for a while, keep his head low on campus, he knows he can avoid you. But with his finger hovering over the delete confirmation, he finds he doesn’t have the strength to do it. Stuffs his phone back in his pocket and tries to will his mind to forget the way you’d gasped into his mouth when his hands had squeezed at the swell of your ass, or the way your lips had been soft against his when he’d kissed you.

Then, led in bed, frustrations sorted by his own hand, he picks up his phone and damns himself to hell with a single text.

How about a walk around the National Gallery and dinner this weekend?

#Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #Marcus Pike smut #Marcus Pike #marcus pike fanfiction #Marcus Pike fanfic #Marcus Pike fic #Pedro pascal #Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal #the mentalist #the mentalist fic #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #Marcus Pike fluff #Marcus Pike au #pedro characters #pedrostories

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erikatsu · 1 year

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RAINY DAYS + GENSHIN MEN

❍ PAIRINGS: Alhaitham, Dainsleif, Kaveh, Xiao, Cyno + GN!Reader (separate)

❍ WARNINGS: Individual if necessary. SFW, but minors don't follow. this is kinda all over the place.

❍ NOTE: this is my first time writing xiao & cyno. i cannot believe it.

ALHAITHAM

warnings: implied established relationship

If there was one thing Alhaitham hated more than eating from a bowl while trying to read, it was the rain. More specifically, it was going out in it. Today was one of those days, where it couldn't be avoided after leaving work to go home. Even though his walk was short, it still annoyed him every time a drop of water hit his skin.

But, coming home to you made that short walk in the weather worth it. Not that he would voice it out loud, but seeing you tucked into the couch with a blanket around your shoulders and you nose in a book as soon as he walked in brightened his mood. He'll pause for a moment in the doorway, soaking in your appearance before slipping down the hall to get dried off.

Once he changes into some comfier clothes, he'll sit down beside you, gently taking the book from your hands. He makes a face when he realizes its the latest light novel shipped in from Inazuma, which is something he found you reading a lot. While he didn't much care for fantasy, he did suppose exercising the human imagination did have its benefits. Regardless of his opinion, he'd pull you closer in his side and start reading out loud from where you had left off.

His voice compliments the sound of the falling rain, lulling you into a sense of comfort and security, and warmth as you get lost in his sound.

DAINSLEIF

warnings: angst, reader is implied to be royal and no longer around (take that however you want).

The first rain after the fall of was not a beacon of hope to Dainsleif. It was just a reminder that the sun shining after wasn't what he wanted to see. He craved the moon, and it's eternal shine. He craved you, and they way your skin glowed in its light.

The rain brought him back to a time when Khaenri'ah still stood strong in all its glory– a time when you were still around. He could recall countless nights where the two of you would stand in the open halls of the palace, watching and listening to the rain fall. One arm would be wrapped around you, pulling your back into his chest. He'd kiss the top of your head, thankful for the small amount of time he'd gotten to spend with you that day.

It was one of those moments where he'd forget others existed, feeling like it was just the two of you. There was no heirarchy, nothing keeping you two apart. You and him, together, feeling slight mist coming off the downpour while it washed away aftermath of a long day.

Dainsleif used to love the rain. Now, he stood in it— melancholy, cold, and alone. He'd never enjoy the rain again, because all it did now was remind him of what he'd lost. A painful memory of the loss of you.

KAVEH

warnings: established relationship

Your eyelids were heavy as you dragged your gaze over to your boyfriend. His hands are busy moving across a page, eyes darting up every now and then to make sure he was capturing the scene right. You'd been sitting this way for an hour, the rain tapping against the window almost putting you to sleep.

"Sit still, my love," he'd tell you gently. "I'm almost done."

He wasn't, and you knew that. But, once he finished his sketch he'd come sit beside you, and finish his work with charcoal coloring as you watched. This was always how rainy days went. Impeding weather meant no work for him or you, seeing that you both worked outdoors, even if it was in different fields. You'd have the house to yourselves, just relaxing and doing things you enjoyed while in the presence of the other.

Kaveh loved to use you as his muse, although you did like to tease him and say it was torture. But, you couldn't think of anything more endearing than him spending hours on your portrait, capturing how you looked even with a dreary background like the rain. There was a sort of magic in his art, making you glow and look breathtaking against his chosen canvas.

When he was actually finished, he'd put his creation where he kept the others before curling up under the blankets with you. He'd hold you close, placing a light kiss against your forehead as you dozed off in his arms. Both of you finally allowing the soft tapping of water against the window to sing you both to sleep.

XIAO

warnings: reader is scared of thunderstorms/loud noises. can be seen as platonic or romantic

Your nails anxiously tap against the wooden table in the kitchen of Wangshu Inn, hearing the distant thunder even over the sound of Chef Yanxiao bustling about. The man was always kind enough to let you hang around when the weather turned dark and if Xiao wasn't around. The clanking of pots and pans was easier to listen to than heavy rumbling thunder. You knew you probably weren't rational in your fear, but then again most people thought that way. Except for Xiao. He didn't seem to grasp mortal concepts like that, but you couldn't fault him for it.

"Why didn't you call?" His voice came from behind you— soft with a hint of curiosity... or was it disappointment? It was hard to place, but you were leaning more towards disappointment.

You frowned, knowing he'd been out all morning performing his duties despite no longer being tied to his contract. Calling out for him for a childish fear while he vanquished enemies didn't sit right with you, even if he had told you countless times you could reach out whenever you needed to.

He lightly scoffed, walking over to Chef Yanxiao and briefly speaking to him before coming back with a hot cup of tea. You looked up as he held it out to you, giving him a small smile and a "thanks" in response.

"Just because I don't understand some of your emotions, doesn't mean I can't sense your fear," He told you, the usual gentleness present in his tone. "I'll always be here to protect you, even if what you're afraid of can't actually hurt you."

CYNO

warnings: some hurt + comfort , established relationship

A soft sigh passed your lips as you stared out the window, watching as the people outside rushed to seek shelter from the rain. It had been a week since you'd last seen Cyno, the General Mahamatra and your boyfriend. You knew he was out there, just doing his job, but some days were hard. You had been stressed to the max with your research, your advisor constantly riding you about it and its due date. On top of that, you felt lonely. Sure, Collei and Tighnari stopped by for dinner every now and then but it wasn't the same. You missed Cyno, and nobody's presence felt the same as his.

You pressed a finger against the glass, letting it follow a raindrop down to the pane. No distractions you thought of worked, and you'd tried nearly everything to get your mind off him. Just a few more days, you told yourself, holding back tears. Just a few more days and he'll be back home.

You were lost in chasing the raindrops, missing the front door opening and closing. Cyno frowned when he saw you curled up, pillow tightly pressed against your chest. He knew him leaving was hard on you, but he didn't know just how hard until now. He figured now was not the best time to greet you with a classic joke. Instead he took the pillow from you, setting it off to the side before sitting next to you. He placed a soft kiss against your forehead, causing you to turn and bury your face in his chest.

"Thank Kusunali you're back," you told him, voice muffled by the close proximity. "I've had the worst week."

A soft chuckle left him at your change in mood, his arm wrapping around you. He'd missed you and your rants. One thing he admired most about you was your ability to communicate your troubles, knowing it must have been driving you crazy to keep what was bothering you all bottled up. He gently ran his hand up and down your back , "I'm here now. Tell me all about it."

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pinkworldone · 5 months

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Hidden Feelings

yandere! Genshin x reader

characters: Cyno, Wanderer, Diluc.

Idea: you always say "good morning" and always talk to them, even if some do not say anything or just insult you back, you were in love, so you refused to realize that they were "evil", however, hear comments from other people and their friends saying that it was not worth it. You opened your eyes, stopping talking to them every morning and always being on they side, but what you didn't know was that these little moments were adorable for each of them.

tw: yandere content; mentions of aggression and death; not too much yandere here, but it’s okay

+Cyno Art! Sorry, I was having trouble drawing the part of Diluc and Wanderer...

CYNO

–You were just another worker who had been saved by him, you also heard comments from the incredible General Mahamatra, leaving you with an exactly delusional idea of what he was like and making you fall in love slowly. Initially, you always greeted Cyno out of politeness, smiling sweetly and saying "good morning" or other depending on the time.

– However, Cyno barely answered back, just a quick answer and walk away, not giving you much room to start a more normal conversation. However, you had not yet given up and continued, even trying to have lunch and learn that card game that he seemed to like.

– Still, his reactions continued... few. No right smile and I also didn't come to you, always waiting for you. Exactly for this reason, your friend decided to try to open your eyes and adding to the comments you heard from your colleagues - calling him an idiot for looking for an impossible love - you finally understood and decided to walk away.

– Cyno noticed the change quickly, it started with you passing by him and not greeting him with his cute and gentle smile, he thought you were just busy on the day or with something in mind; however, he continued for the rest of the week, you no longer had lunch with him or tried to play TCG.

– He didn't sketch that much reaction abroad, but he was extremely confused, did he do something wrong? Did it hurt you? Maybe he was too hard while teaching you TCG?! It was not possible, Cyno still remembered your smiles while you carefully learned the game and your cute scream when a character died or lost!

– So, he decided to go to you, observing that you were playing tcg with someone else, a strange feeling took over, seeing that person so close and still touching you to teach how to play. your reactions are so adorable, but it wasn't him who was making you have those cute expressions, but another person!

– Everyone noticed the change in the General's tone, Cyno tried to act cool and pretend that none of this had affected him, maybe you were just training to surprise him? Like: "let's fight again, this time I trained a lot and I'm going to win!" Saying all this with a confident smile that he loved.

– Days. Weeks. 1 month, 2... All right, Cyno had already been angry enough, it was not possible that you were trained for so long, he would challenge you to a TCG battle and win!

– Your dear friend was on your side while he watched you play against Cyno, he expected another reaction when you lost, of course your surprise was cute, but seriously you had to call your friend so sweetly asking to train more?!

– Cyno played against his coach and won, hoping you would realize how amazing he was!

– You didn't.

– Now Cyno didn't understand, he has an immense moral compass that could not be corrupted by killing a person out of jealousy, but making him disappear was a great idea. So the plan was made, now that your coach has disappeared, your only coach should be him!

– and no, you didn't go to Cyno. The man was almost giving up! But no, no, no! He simply starts to get closer to you, trying to show the small (giant) passion.

"Let's go out today" Cyno simply said on his side, did he have free time? You just nodded with a smile, maybe he just wanted to play some TCG with you...

– After a while, you began to be titled as "General Mahamatra's partner", everyone whispered when you passed by and also feared a little talking to you. Did ignoring him for two months cost that much?

WANDERER

– Being his partner in class was quite fun and irritating, but you still fell in love with his good looks and intelligence — even more so because of his looks, but don't tell anyone that! You always greeted him with a kind smile even when he grumbled and didn't say anything back, you sat next to him every day, trying to talk and even managed to, always with a smile that it’s too cute.

– You also paid attention in class, but sometimes, Wanderer would disturb you and take your attention, making the teacher fight with both of you, and Wanderer would continue, it's not like he cared!

– This lasted a long time, until one day he was a little meaner, calling you annoying and insulting you with all the horrible things possible, telling you to get away from him and you actually did it, with your head down. Wanderer was surprised, he just expected you to insult him back like always and sit next to him without caring! "Just being an idiot, come back tomorrow..." he thought, but it's been two weeks and you haven't come back to him, hell, you even stopped greeting Wanderer, you ignored his existence.

— Do you want to play this stupid game? It's okay, he's going to play this stupid game... He doesn't last, he's simply used to your cute smile and seeing you giving that smile to someone else?! your cute greetings to another?! no way.

— Wanderer is sitting next to you this time, making sure no one comes closer and leaves you two alone as it should be. disturbing you in the middle of class, pulling you to have lunch with him and spend the day with him; Even speaking for you, but not in a cute way, Wanderer sees the others approaching, asking if you are free, he simply replies "no" and insults them until they want to give up on life.

– — If Wanderer observes someone being too kind and silly by your side, that person will "give up" the next day, with a few bruises here and there. Forces you to hold his hand and act like a cute couple, are you uncomfortable? He doesn't care, you were always his from the first moment.

DILUC

– You were fighting indirectly with Donna, a woman who also likes Diluc, your passion for him grew so fast and strong, look at him, so strong and incredible, owner of his own industry! You were lucky that your friend always drank and all his get-togethers ended up at the tavern, always giving you the opportunity to admire the man from afar.

– You took the opportunity to sneak away and be close to him, not your drunk friends, you shared the same drink, neither of them drank wine or alcoholic beverages, you thought it was destiny! So I almost always stopped by and visited, hoping Diluc would be there. He wasn't there, but that's okay, you had fun talking to Charles!

– Then you started hearing the nasty comments, commenting on what an idiot you are, how impossible this relationship would be and that he didn't deserve you. You were just another delusional person blinded by love. Such comments made you stop visiting the tavern frequently, going only when your friends invited you.

– Diluc was quick to notice the change, you sat in the corner, just waiting for your friends to get tired or most of the time, you got up (this always made his heart warm, preparing the words he would say to you thinking about how he memorized your favorite topic), however, you just walk towards the door and leave the tavern without even saying "goodbye".

– He ends up hearing the gossip from his friends, some even told him that you forgot about him and that you didn't love him anymore, even calling him an idiot! It's okay that Diluc barely showed any reactions or happiness when you greeted him, but it always made his day better.

– You had returned with your friends, drinking your juice while listening to them chatter about something, you were still surprised that Diluc hadn't kicked them out; some fainted, others were very focused on a side conversation, you got up and headed towards the door. Only to be stopped by Diluc asking you to sit down and have a talk with him.

– Diluc could see you nervous, how sad your look seemed every time you left, he was happy when you accepted and sat down to talk. Wow, how long has it been since he talked to you? see that cute smile and clumsy mannerisms?! He loves you, damn it!

– It was just a contract, his parents would never deny him a marriage, so why not bring up the topic? And… Your answer hurt him, "no", Diluc had to accept it and just let you leave. He tried to ask for your consent, but it seems like you rejected him, it's okay, he can ask your parents for your hand!

#yandere headcanons #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere writing #genshin yandere #yandere cyno #Yandere diluc #yandere wanderer

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thewarmblanket · 4 months

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A year ago hyperfixation on Avatar took over me and I made my first ever fanart

Today I finished redrawing it:

Old art:

The amount of effort on both of these pictures is incomparable, the old one was just a sketch, however A LOT has changed and I'm surprised that I feel proud for myself

I have another one for a better comparison so you can see