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reminiscingtonight · 9 months ago

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Three's Not A Crowd

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

[WOSO Masterlist]

It was an accident.

If confronted about it Ingrid will vehemently deny snooping.

Because she wasn’t. In any way.

It all began with a simple tidying up. No matter how many times Ingrid reminded Mapi not to leave her various books and bags around the house the Spaniard just never took it to heart.

So doing what she does best, Ingrid puts them away for her girlfriend.

Opening the hallway closet, she starts the daunting task of hauling the heavy bag onto one of the higher shelves. It’s there, when the bag is halfway over her head that something falls out, the zipper not having been fully shut.

A couple curse words are grumbled out when the object smacks her square on the top of her head. Sighing, Ingrid crouches to grab at what she realizes is Mapi’s sketchbook… only to pause when she sees the page the book has fallen open onto.

Mapi’s artistic abilities have always been magnificent. When not busy with football or taking Ingrid out on dates, the Spaniard can always be found sketching away in some corner of their house. Ingrid’s always the first to point out how wonderful she finds her girlfriend’s pieces of art but these particular sketches, they’re nothing if not breathtaking.

Ingrid picks up the book, fingers lightly tracing the unfamiliar face staring back at her. Whoever Mapi’s captured down on the paper is nothing if not beautiful. Your eyes look kind, mouth curled up into the gentlest of smiles.

Surprisingly it isn’t jealousy Ingrid feels at the sight of someone else captured so perfectly by Mapi. It’s curiosity that causes her to flip through page after page of Mapi’s sketchbook, each one containing a different picture of you through what’s clearly multiple different days. In some of them you’re staring right at Ingrid through the pages of the pad, in others it’s only your side profile that’s been captured.

The more Ingrid looks, the more her curiosity grows. And it’s this same curiosity that has Ingrid knocking on their shared bedroom a couple minutes later, book still in hand.

“Who is this?” It’s not an accusation, words coming out soft and curious as Ingrid gently places Mapi’s sketchbook down next to the defender.

Mapi’s body all but freezes when she sees what Ingrid is referring to, eyes growing comically wide. “That’s uh, she’s um-- I just… she caught my eye-- and I… I--”

Mapi’s clearly at a loss of words, and Ingrid is quick to put her out of her misery.

Ingrid puts a light hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Mapi, don’t worry about it. I know you’re loyal. This isn’t me asking if you’re cheating on me. You love me too much to ever think about breaking my heart.”

The blonde’s quiet for a moment, looking down at her fingers. Ingrid waits patiently, as the Spaniard gathers her thoughts.

“She works at the cafe next to the park.”

Ingrid listens, if not with a little too much investment, as Mapi details the first trip that took her across your path. Something about you had Mapi returning time and time again, if just to hear your voice or get some work done in your presence.

Mapi finishes her story and they put away the sketchbook and their day goes on as normal.The conversation really should have put an end to the thoughts swirling around her head, but something keeps tickling at the back of Ingrid’s mind.

She should let it go.

Ingrid knows she should let it go.

But everyone says curiosity kills the cat and that’s exactly what happens.

Ingrid goes to see you.

Well she actually goes to the cafe at which you work at, but it’s definitely with the intention to see you in action.

And see you in action she does.

Right from the get-go Ingrid can understand why Mapi’s been so drawn to you.

You’re soft spoken, eyes sparkling as you take her order. When Ingrid hesitantly pauses over unfamiliar Spanish words you don’t make a big deal out of her sudden switch to heavy-accented English. Instead, your smile grows wider, happy to converse in your native tongue. You converse in light English. Ingrid only stumbles over her words every here and there but you don’t comment, nodding along to everything she says as if they’re the most interesting thing in the world.

You’re just so nice and just so sweet and…

Ingrid finds herself coming back to see you again. And again. And again.

She grows used to the way your face would light up when you catch sight of her walking through the doors. You’re always quick to nudge your coworker out of the way just so you can take her order.

Ingrid doesn’t expect to feel things.

She’s in love with Mapi, she knows that. The two of them are supposedly going to get married in the future, live the happiest of lives together.

But something about you is just so alluring. And it isn’t like Mapi isn’t attracted to you either. Although her girlfriend has never said it out loud, Ingrid knows her fascination with you is due in part to how beautiful she finds you.

It’s after practice that Ingrid makes up her mind.

There’s really nothing to lose either way. Either it works out, and she can make Mapi happy as well. Or it doesn’t. Worse case scenario the two of them will just have to get their caffeine fix somewhere else.

Ticket clutched in hand, Ingrid walks up to the counter.

---

Working at a cafe was never in your plans.

But neither was uprooting your entire life and moving across the ocean to Spain.

A year ago you had a really nice job, a loving girlfriend, a life you were sure was set to last you until the end. Walking in on your girlfriend in bed with “the friend you didn’t need to worry about” really turned everything on its head.

When your job’s contract ended there wasn’t really anything keeping you tied down to the city you really only moved to for your ex-girlfriend for. So with nothing but a suitcase and plane ticket in hand, you made the rash decision to go to the ever sunny Barcelona.

You’ve only been here for a couple months, but you’re already in love with the city and the culture.

You get used to the everyday buzz of your routine. Wake up, go for a jog, head to work, make some coffee for some pretty girls, go home, rinse and repeat. Really not too much to focus on so it’s no surprise you noticed her right away.

Bleach-blonde hair, reserved but beautiful smile, yeah, how could you miss someone like her?

She always ordered the same thing whenever she came in, one hand clutched around a small book and pencil. You’ve only ever heard her say her drink order, her name, and a polite thank you when you’d bring her drink, but beyond that, she was a mystery to you.

During lulls in your shift you’d often find your eyes drifting to where she sat, head buried in her book as her pencil made its way across the page. Her ink was magnetic, so many tattoos everywhere, her arms, hands, neck.

You come to look forward to the days Mapi would come in. Every Monday like clockwork.

And while Mondays were for Mapi, Thursdays were for Ingrid.

Ingrid was another one of the girls you’ve come to look forward to seeing.

Unlike your Spanish crush, your Norwegian crush grew out of fondness.

At first you thought it was funny, having feelings for someone not from Spain in Spain. But Ingrid would always do whatever she could to make you laugh when she came in. She’s funny and attentive and just so caring, it’s no surprise you find your crush growing with each day.

So yeah, maybe you’re crushing on two women in Barcelona, but it’s not like the other knew about your feelings for them or the other woman, so you feel vindicated to continue pining over Mapi on Mondays and Ingrid on Thursdays.

When Ingrid asked you to accompany her to a Barcelona match your first instinct is to say no.

First off, you never expected her to actually ask you out.

Secondly, and more importantly, your best friend from home was always trying to get you to go to a soccer game with her but you never found much interest in people kicking balls around for ninety minutes. But to squander some alone time with a beautiful girl away from your place of work? Well that sounded pretty appealing.

The closer the match day gets the more excited you become. The day of the game you find yourself trying on at least half of your closet before calling your friend for help. All you really got was a bunch of teasing remarks, but with only a few minutes to spare you make it out the door to the game.

You send a text off to Ingrid when you get to your seat. Everyone around you is already joyous, spanish chattering going off everywhere around you.

But then the minutes tick by and your text is still left unread and Ingrid is still nowhere to be seen. It’s already passed the time Ingrid said for you to get to the game, but you can’t seem to get ahold of her nor can you spot her anywhere.

You frown. Maybe something came up and Ingrid’s just running a little (a lot) behind?

Or perhaps you were just the fool to ever believe a gorgeous woman like Ingrid would ever be into someone like you.

Your heart sinks at the prospect of being stood up.

Suddenly your mood drops, no longer as excited at watching the game as you were earlier. The longer you sit here without seeing any hint of Ingrid, the more you find yourself wishing you never accepted the ticket in the first place.

You’re broken out of your thoughts when the crowd around you starts cheering, the first of players starting to jog out onto the field for warm-ups.

Blinking away what you know would be tears of frustration, you let your eyes rake over the unfamiliar players. Mapi’s the last thing on your mind as you wonder where Ingrid can be, which is why you almost do a double take when you see someone who looks a bit like her jog right past you.

Wait.

Your head whips to the side to track the player.

Mapi’s dressed in Barcelona colors as she lightly pushes one of her teammates on the field. She’s now on the other side of the pitch, but you can still see the way she’s laughing and joking around with her teammates.

Before you can really make sense of what you’re seeing, you feel your heart stuttering to a stop for the second time in seconds.

There’s a familiar tall figure running up to Mapi’s side, throwing an arm around her shoulder. You would know that dazzling smile from anywhere.

Ingrid is on the field.

Ingrid is on the field next to Mapi.

Ingrid didn’t ask you to go to today’s game with her. She was asking you to watch her play in today’s game.

And watching Ingrid play soccer apparently meant also watching Mapi play soccer too.

Although you’re here for Ingrid you can’t help but drool over how good Mapi looks streaking down the field.

She seems to dance with the ball, effortlessly launching it right into the path of her teammates.

You’re standing up and cheering when her assist turns into a goal.

She’s celebrating with her teammates when you see Ingrid tug on Mapi’s sleeve. And then they’re both looking at you. You flush red at the gigantic smile on Ingrid’s face and the confused yet still slightly pleased look on Mapi’s.

When the final whistle blows you’re not quite sure what the proper etiquette is.

You’re still debating whether or not you should head out and text Ingrid later when you notice her heading in your direction.

It’s automatic, the way your lips curl up into a smile.

Until you realize she’s got one hand on Mapi’s forearm.

It’s obvious that the two of them are arguing about something. Mapi’s eyebrows are drawn together, hand’s waving in front of her as she rapidly says something to the Norwegian. They’re still too far away for you to hear them but you can still make out the way Ingrid fondly rolls her eyes at the other woman.

As soon as they come within earshot of you though, Mapi falls silent. She’s looking a bit shy and bashful, not at all as confident as when she was playing earlier, but Ingrid still drags her to a stop in front of you.

“You could’ve told me you were playing in the game when you asked me to come, Ingrid.”

Ingrid grins. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You let her pull you into a sweaty hug, laughing when she shakes you side to side before letting go. Ingrid gives Mapi a slight nudge before the shorter woman gives you a subdued hello.

She looks nervous. For what you’re not quite sure. If anything, you should be the nervous one. What’s your luck that the two women you’re crushing on know each other?

It almost seems natural, the way Mapi leans into Ingrid, and the way Ingrid so readily slots a hand on Mapi’s waist.

It takes a moment but your heart drops when it clicks.

“Oh, are you guys… you’re together?”

What. The. Fuck.

No, you’re not crushing on two women who know each other. You’re crushing on two women who happen to be together!

“Si,” Mapi confirms, looking a bit uncomfortable at the way Ingrid keeps manhandling her towards your body.

“Anyways, how did you like the game?” Ingrid butts in, eyelashes batting at you.

Your eyes keep darting between hers and Mapi’s. “It was… it was a nice game. I can’t really say I have much experience to compare the match to, but you guys definitely tore up the field.”

Ingrid hums. “Well we’re just going to have to change that, won’t we.”

You don’t really understand what she means so you stay quiet, giving her a polite nod in response. If you were embarrassed thinking Ingrid stood you up earlier, there’s no words that can describe the way you’re feeling now. All you want to do is go home and curl into a ball. You’re going to need a couple days of wallowing about to get over these two stupid little crushes of yours.

“The girls are planning on going out, if you want to come.”

Nervously scratching the back of your head, you try to swallow the lump in your throat. You’re not quite sure why Ingrid looks so hopeful when Mapi’s literally held in her arms right in front of you.

“I don’t know…”

It’s the sight of both Mapi and Ingrid’s faces falling that instantly makes you start doubting your decision.

“Please?” Mapi rasps, hand lightly falling upon your arm.

Mapi hasn’t really said much this entire time, but your eyes drop to where she’s touching you, face instantly heating up at the simple feel of her hand on your skin.

“I--” You make the mistake of raising your eyes, making direct eye contact with Mapi. The Spaniard’s eyes are soft and it feels a bit as if she’s staring right into your soul. Her fingers absentmindedly dance their way down to your arm as you try to say anything other than how much you’ve been thinking about what exactly her hands can do.

“Well I suppose an hour or two out won’t hurt.” It comes out of your mouth without you really intending it to.

But your heart feels a bit lighter at the way Mapi instantly looks like you’ve just made her day. Ingrid’s sporting a similar smile, chin resting upon Mapi’s shoulder. As gently as she can, Ingrid shuffles Mapi out of the way. You don’t have any time to react before she’s leaning in to press a kiss against your cheek. You’re sure your face is flaming red when she pulls back, but then Mapi’s leaning in next, kissing you just as softly as Ingrid did. She lingers for a beat, pausing to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear.

“Wait outside the corridor for us, yeah? We’ll let security know to let you through.”

Still dumbstruck you nod, not able to get rid of the tingling warmth from your skin.

The two of them bid their goodbyes before disappearing down the tunnel towards the locker room. There’s nothing you can do but stare after their departing figures, hand coming up to touch your cheek as if you can’t believe what’s just happened.

Because now that you’re really thinking about it, what did just happen?

#mapi leon x reader #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon imagine #ingrid engen imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

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bennyden · 10 months ago

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User hamatoanne's fic plagiarism

Hello, I’m the author of The Android, an AO3 Robot OC x Reader fic that was plagiarized by hamatoanne on Tumblr in her Aemond x Reader story, System Error. You can read my AO3 post for more info about the issue. As you can tell by the timestamps on AO3 and the screenshots of her now-deleted story, mine was posted months before hers. I didn’t want to make this public, but it appears Anne has not learned her lesson and is grasping at straws to keep her readers in the dark. She’s been deleting her stories to hide evidence of her plagiarism. I think you deserve to know who your beloved writer gets her words from.

I don’t know this fandom, but I’ve heard you guys can get pretty crazy. Control yourselves. The only one who needs to take responsibility is Anne. Don’t send hate to her mutuals. Don’t send hate to her followers. Don’t stalk or harass or dox anyone. Read through this post and form your opinion.

First bunch of screenshots: A side-by-side comparison of her story (now deleted) and mine (still up and linked above). I took screenshots in advance in case something like this happened so I’d have proof if I needed it. I decided to compare the first chapter of my fic with the first part of hers. I could do the whole thing, but I’m a busy college student and I think just a quick skim of the pictures below is enough for people to see the extent of her plagiarism.

I have screenshots of her entire post, but I don’t want to make this too long to scroll through and Tumblr posts cap at 30 pictures. I’m assuming some of you have already read her story multiple times, so you’re familiar with the words. If you haven’t, then I should warn you that the fic that she plagiarized is very not SFW. I’ll let you know where the not SFW content starts so you can skip it.

On the left is my story. On the right is what Anne posted (and took down).

Not SFW content starts here.

Not SFW content over.

Finally, I DM’ed her. This was just before I posted to The Android on AO3 about the situation. To summarize, I wrote about how I would go about the situation and how hurt I was about a bigger creator stealing from me. I admit, I was too kind and too much of a pushover. I just wanted things to go quietly. She later replied with this and deleted her fic immediately.

“I was completely stupid for not giving your credit” Why do they always play dumb? You copy that much and can’t even think to put my name there? You credit the artist but not the person who basically wrote your whole story? The story that gave you over 3k notes, so much more clout than any of your other stories has earned you? Total BS.

“I had every intention of giving credit where it was due…But I forgot” Right. Sure. Of course. If she felt guilty about plagiarizing, she would not be so shameless to accept praise like she did. I have examples of where she happily thanked people for complimenting "her work”, but didn’t want to bring other blogs into this, especially since they were none the wiser to her plagiarism. Ironically enough, someone even gifted her a badge for being a good writer the day she replied to my DM. She tagged that post “#a breath of fresh air on a horrible day”. I wonder why her day was horrible. Whoever gifted her that badge deserves their money back.

My thoughts when approaching her DMs were:

If she wants to keep up the story? Fine, just edit the post to say that it was heavily influenced by my story and leave a link to the original. I don’t mind. The readers will see that, click my story, compare the two, and think, “Hey, that’s not just inspiration! She plagiarized!” and her downfall would start from there without me having to do anything.

If she ignored me and didn’t fulfill that request, i would take matters into my own hands and expose her on her own post. Even more damaging.

In the end, she chose to delete the post entirely, getting rid of the evidence and her clout. I actually didn’t expect this outcome since I thought she’d like the clout too much, but I guess she decided this route would be the least damaging to her reputation. Everything was swept under the rug for now.

And like a fool, I said thanks and went on with my life. But I decided to keep track of her. Because while I was too cowardly to do anything, I knew there would always be someone in the crowd who would take action. And it seems like people did.

After reading the supportive comments from readers of my fic, I started to regret how lightly I handled it. I wanted to be mature even though I wanted her entire blog to fall and her reputation taken away. But I didn’t want to be a “bad person”. I wondered if I should keep pursuing the issue. I realized that my overly-people-pleasing behavior might lead her to continue her ways. I decided to speak out because others might’ve had their works taken by her and that my silence wasn’t helping.

Next is her post, now deleted (I wonder why), about how she’s been so sad and how she’s going to be deleting her old stories and starting over. I’m likely not the only one she’s plagiarized from if she’s deleting other stories. At the time, I only saw supportive replies and reblogs on it, but maybe she deleted it after people started calling her out? Idk.

She’s playing the victim game pretty hard. Acting as a kind underdog even though she’s the big creator who stole from a nobody like me. I know I said on my AO3 update that people shouldn’t send hate to her (and even censored her name after she deleted her story) but I guess I’m a little happy that people sought to call her out on her shit. I wish I was as brave.

Later, a nice person (we’ll call her Bob because she asked to remain anonymous) DM’ed me directly with a kind message. After seeing this, I decided I should take action and expose all of this since Anne obviously hasn’t learned and wants to keep it all hidden. Bob confirmed that I’m not the only victim of Anne’s plagiarism either.

Bob asked that I not use screenshots of our DM’s so here is a transcription of the important parts:

“Hey! I just found out that one of your fics had been plagiarized by someone in the HOTD community. First of all, I am tremendously sorry that happened…”

(For Bob’s privacy, I won’t explain her relation to Anne. Just know that Anne has refused to message her back).

“I definitely think you should make a blog post. with side by side comparison. I am still completely gobsmacked that she pilfered your entire story word for word and changed a few things. We found evidence that she had plagiarized multiple stories. Not just yours. We found out her mermaid!aemond fic was entirely stolen as well as a few others. She has quietly deleted them and hasn't spoken on them since.”

“We surmised that she takes ‘underrated’ fics from different fandoms and changes the name and that's it. It's almost like she believed that stealing from other fandoms was going to draw less attention than stealing directly from the HOTD fandom.”

So if you noticed that one of your favorite Aemond fics is gone, now you know why.

‘But benny, she still wrote her own sentences and just changed it around to fit aemond!’

Fanfiction is transformative. You know what the source material is and who created it. You know you’re not reading a copied and pasted text with maybe some words and sentences switched around. This wasn’t fanfic. According to Google, plagiarism is defined as, “the practice of taking someone else's work or ideas and passing them off as one's own.” (See what I did there? I credited Google. Is it so hard to give credit where credit is due?) She copied people's work, didn't give credit to the source material, and claimed it as her own. That's plagiarism.

I wouldn’t have had a problem if she properly credited me and linked the original story. I wouldn’t have had a problem if she didn’t blatantly copy and paste the entire text and premise. I wouldn’t even require getting permission to write a story based on my fic if she had satisfied those conditions.

She’s a 27-year-old grown-ass woman with enough free time to simp over some blond guy with an eyepatch. I’m a 21-year-old college student who only posts fics during the summer and winter because that’s when school’s on break. I’m too busy writing lab reports and essays to be an active writer online. The fact that she can disrespect smaller writers so tremendously should not be acceptable. The fact that she also deceived her devoted readers and friends about her "works" is also unacceptable.

What can you do about this? To be honest, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had to deal with this before. I want to be a good person and say, “Don’t send any hate to Anne, don’t harass her. Just unfollow her and stop supporting her.” But that obviously hasn’t taught her anything. She’ll just make a half-assed apology, maybe go on hiatus, maybe disappear, and then pop up again under another name to steal from another creator. If you have any ideas on how to deal with this, please tell us.

She can try to block me or delete her posts, but the evidence is out and the damage is done. Anything she does to hide this mess will only make it worse for her. I’d appreciate people bringing more awareness to this issue, especially if it can reach the eyes of others she’s taken from.

Thanks for reading.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #reader fanfiction #prince aemond #plagiarism #android x reader #robot x reader #ao3 #aemond and reader smut

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juvenillia · 1 year ago

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~ 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.

taglist: @cooliofango @ghostslillady @bunnyreaper @anothersimpsblog @kitkatscabinet @starry-eyedblog @yawnderu

#johnny soap mctavish x reader #cod x reader #soap x reader #soap smut #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #call of duty #call of duty smut #call of duty fluff #soap fluff #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mactavish #johnny mactavish

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sunshine304 · 11 days ago

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FTH Fanbinding: "Concord" by Deastar

@youhideastar won my FTH auction and gave me a great gift: She wanted me to bind her CQL fic "Concord" including the thorough author's commentary she'd done. I was so happy when she chose this fic because I'd loved it so much and had pondered doing a fanbinding of it at some point anyway. 😄

Now that the book has finally arrived (spending two days in the air even, I guess, at least when one looks at the tracking info 😆), I can show it off here!

I tried some new stuff on this bind and also some things that I'd only done once before and that definitely need some, uh, perfecting. 😅 But overall, I'm very pleased with how this book turned out, as it's pretty close to what I'd imagined when I started it.

The fic is set in Cloud Recesses and Dea and I agreed that the colour blue should be prominent in the design, as it not only fits the setting, but also is of significance in the story itself. As the rules and traditions of the Lan sect also are quite important, I wanted a very clean, simple style for the case, a bit reminiscent of traditional Chinese bindings.

I did the title as a cut-out and used Japanese transparent paper for some extra flavour. The paper shows up inside the book as well early on and I liked the recurring motive of it. I'm also really pleased how well the hot foil came out on it! I was a bit scared that it might rip or something, but it's quite sturdy, after all.

I thought about doing a faux stab binding with red thread to get even more of a traditional feel, but then decided against it as I'd wanted to use two different blue book cloths and I felt that it might get too busy. Instead, I used the red ribbon as a nod to Wei Wuxian.

The little cloud illustration is used several times in the typeset and I like how it comes out in the title. I didn't even mess up this title, yay! (Mine's got a few tiny blotches but uh well, better mine than Dea's!)

I painted the edges with metallic watercolours - the second time I tried painting edges, but this time with several colours and trying to do a little illustration as well. Big thanks to @zhalfirin who quickly answered my question about how to get the paint to actually stick. 😆 I'd read several posts about how awesome water colours are for foreedge painting, but none mentioned that this kind of paint just rubs off again (I am no artist and have no knowledge of different kinds of paint). Zhalfirin told me to mix in glue and also wax the edges afterwards, which I both did and I think it's fine now. At least my fingers didn't turn blue. 😅

I really love how the shading came out on the head/tail; it could've been better on the foreedge and it looked great while the paint was still wet. Steep learning curve, this thing. I also died trying to sand the edges and I didn't get them completely smooth, but at least smooth enough to work with. That also needs some more work, I guess.

First time I sewed endbands with four different colours! I think they came out quite well! I also forgot the second row of dark blue on Dea's book and had to unravel half the endband again when I noticed at the very end... 🤦‍♀️

Nice marbled endpapers. For the title page spread, I used part a very famous Chinese painting, as it not only reminds me of the Gusu mountains but also, again, is very traditional. I played around with the colours to give the picture a bit of a bluer tinge.

The typeset itself was very straight-forward. There's the fic without commentary, and then the second part with it. I used a grey background for the comment parts to make it stand out from the actual story.

I had lots of printer issues with this fic (my copy actually had even more issues because the printer treated every page as an image for unknown reasons and therefore it not only took forever, it's also a tiny bit blurry. Hmpf.) and the greys tended to have a bit of a blue tinge, which was not my intention. But at least it works with the overall theme, I guess! 😅

I also did an extensive Appendix with all the meta links mentioned in the commentary as well as cut scenes and a little "praise for the author" section.

Last but not least, I decided to try making a slipcase for the first time! DAS_Bookbinding on youtube has good tutorials on that and I used one of them. It worked well on the first try. The second try, I used sturdier cardboard and should've added a few millimetres to the width, because the book didn't fit - the ribbon got stuck and I feared that it might get damaged. So I had to redo the case and then it was perfect.

I used wallpaper as cover material. 😄 The one you see on the outside? That's my living room wallpaper, a light blue with a lovely pattern and soft shimmer to it. My camera unfortunately is refusing to get the colour right.🤷‍♂️

The assembling process went well, for the most part. I'd forgotten to shorten the endpapers a bit which I only realised after I'd started casing in my copy. I carefully separated the textblock from the case again and then, in a moment of complete mental blackout, tried to cut the wet paper. 🤦‍♀️ That didn't go well. I managed to salvage it, mostly, and of course didn't repeat the mistake with Dea's copy, but ugh. 😆

This was a super fun project and I'm very happy with it! Thank you again, Dea, for your faith in me and your super generous donation! 💙

Materials used:

Printed on Clairefontaine DCP 100g

Case and endpapers:

booklinen Colibri cornflower

booklinen Paradise aqua

marbled paper 120g

transparent Japanese paper

Hot Foil (Memory Keepers)

Slipcase:

fleece wallpaper Newroom Nisa lightblue

fleece wallpaper grey glitter

#my fanbinding #fanbinding #fth #fth crafts bazaar #fandom trumps hate #arts and crafts #the untamed #cql fanfiction #the untamed fanfiction #mdzs #mdzs fanfiction #wangxian

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esoteric-joke · 2 months ago

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Interview with Brooklyn_Babylon

(#Interview3)

Welcome to the next interview of the Dear Writer Project. This Sunday I’m here with Gina (twopoppies here on Tumblr). Thank you so much for participating and supporting my project. It was a pleasure to interview you.

Gina about her writing process, her inspirations and what she finds most challenging about writing:

What does your writing process look like?

Oh, you're going to call me out right from the get-go, huh? LOL! My writing process is that I am a complete pantser. I hate outlining and I'm not good at it (probably why I hate it). I generally get inspired by something visual and then build a story around that. The difficulty is that often, there's a concept, but there's no real story to tell. Or, I can't quite flesh it out enough to make it worth writing. But when something connects, I go bother India (indiaalphawhiskey on Tumblr) who is my beta/BFF/cheerleader and we'll talk through the story idea.

She's super helpful in terms of pushing me to think it through enough that I can write a very basic outline of what needs to happen to get from A to B. Then, I wing it. LOL!

What does writing mean to you?

From the time I was a kid, I've always been involved in doing something artistic--from fine art, to costume design, to writing, etc. I've just always needed some way to express myself, creatively. It took me a long time to get comfortable writing fiction because there are a few people in my family who are highly respected authors, and I felt I needed something of my own to sink my teeth into. But now that I've started, I realize how much I do love it (even when I hate it), and how much it allows me to dig deep into my own thoughts and emotions and be more self-aware. Beyond that, I think I'm at my most comfortable when I feel I'm helpful/supportive/nurturing. I used to write non-fiction that gave me that outlet. It's interesting that I can see those aspects in my fiction writing, as well.

Do you know before you start writing if an idea is going to become a oneshot or a longer fic?

I can generally tell if there's enough of a story to make it a chaptered fic. Sometimes the chapters just separate naturally.

Like, in An Invincible Summer, the story unfolded so that each chapter was a different month. But I had a basic idea of how I wanted the story to progress over that time period. I think, for the most part, I let the story dictate how it's going to flow.

You don’t write (or publish) as regularly as some other writers in the fandom. Why is that and would you like to write/publish more in the future?

Part of the reason is that I have a really busy life outside of the fandom (and writing). I also don't like to write just to fill up space. And I don't want to publish anything I don't think is the best I'm capable of at that moment.

On top of that, I'm just not one of those people who has a million stories in my head. I'm very visually stimulated and there are long periods of time where I just don't feel inspired. I also second-guess myself a lot and often end up shelving my WIPs. And... even when I'm inspired, I tend to write slowly. I like to take time to make sure I'm really saying what I want to say in the best way I can. I want to grow and challenge myself with each story I publish. I just don't see a point in doing it without that sort of intention.

On which of your stories did you write the longest?

I think An Invincible Summer probably took the longest. But it was also one of the easiest for me to write because the story just wrote itself in some ways. I had a much clearer picture from the start of how things were going to unfold. At the same time, there were moments that just happened as I wrote that ended up shifting the story from what I'd originally planned.

I recently went back and re-wrote that fic, adding another 10K to flesh it out better. I'm so much happier with it (even though I loved it before), but I haven't published the updated version on AO3. Not sure whether I will.

Which of your stories came together the fastest?

The first one (Whoever, However). But it's also only 9K. Harry dropped that Beauty Papers spread and my brain exploded. The story was all there. I think Hike Up Your Skirt was probably the next quickest (again, it's not terribly long), but that one I originally wrote for the Anonymous Unicorns collection so there was a lot of freedom in getting to write anything I wanted without fear of judgment. If I could only harness that, I'd be able to bang them out!

What fic of yours was the hardest to write?

I think Literally Making Love.

It was an unusual premise, in that it's about a robot and a human falling in love, but I really struggled with whether I should make it "more" than a love story. It felt like it deserved to be "more", or that it should have more about how AI changes the world and a conversation about loneliness and the way the world contributes to that. So I kept feeling like I wasn't going down the right path with what I was writing, but India reminded me that there's just as much value in a lighthearted story as there is in "serious" writing. We all know the joy of sinking into a comfort fic, or kicking our feet at something really sweet and happy. So I let Literally Making Love be what it wanted to be and I was ultimately super proud of it. And, in the end, I think I did a good job of dealing with the ethical issues, even though I didn't make that the center of the fic.

What inspires you most while writing?

Visuals to begin with. I tend to get inspired by photos or a piece of art. Sometimes song lyrics. But visuals keep me going so I make moodboards for myself and I find quotes or pictures on Tumblr that feel like they belong to the story. I think all of my fics have a link to an inspiration tag on my blog.

And then talking through things with India.

It's so helpful to have someone who gets what you're shooting for and who has the same sense of what makes for good writing. So I'll brainstorm with her when I'm stuck or give her sections to see if it's reading the way I want it to... It keeps me going.

I don't know how writers do it all by themselves. There are times when I've read something so many times that I can't even tell if it's any good. And I do the same for her... helping her get through her writing challenges or brainstorming her projects also makes me a better writer.

In the notes of Literally Making Love you mentioned a 9 month long writers block. What helped you out of it?

Truly it was just that piece of fan art I linked in the note at the start. I'd never seen that artist's work before and this drawing of Louis building an unfinished Harry ended up on my dash and I said, "Well, I'd read the hell out of that." Sadly, no one else was going to write it for me, so I had to do it myself.

While talking about this, I pointed out that I searched a few tags of this particular trope after I finished reading Literally Making Love and couldn’t find more than a handful of fics, which I was surprised by.

Gina thinks people are put off by the idea even if there are so many ways to handle it that could make for a beautiful story.

What do you find most challenging about writing?

I was about to say finding a title, but then I realized that I only had trouble with that in two of the five I wrote.

Hmm. Honestly, I think the most difficult thing for me to write are arguments/fights.

I tend to be really passive-aggressive when I argue, and that doesn't make for very good reading. So I really have to work at crafting a back-and-forth that feels natural but also packs enough of a punch for the scene to work. In An Invincible Summer, the argument scene was pretty pivotal, and one of my betas at the time made me re-write it three times before she signed off on it.

Is there anything you can tell me about future projects you’re planning?

I'm working on another historical fic at the moment. It's slow burn and longer than anything I've written before. So that's a challenge. It's set in the 1880s between the Belle Epoch debauchery and decadence of Paris, and Victorian London's rigid social structure and moral conservatism. Basically, Harry is a French ballet dancer turned sex worker/courtesan. Louis is a British aristocrat whose father has sent him off to Paris to get "the gay" out of his system before he has to marry. There are some twists and turns, and I'm having a lot of fun trying to keep things sexy and exciting for a modern reader while still being true to the time period.

I still don't have a title, and I'm still working on a brief description to sum it up. But... I'm about 60K in and I'm having fun.

When I told Gina that that sounds like you’d have to but lot of research into it, she said:

So much research! But I actually love that part. I get really into the nitty gritty and look up everything. For example, did you know the ice cream cone wasn't invented until 1896 (although not patented until 1903)? LOL! I had to change a scene I was writing because all of a sudden, I thought, "Did they have ice cream then? How did they keep it cold? How did they eat it?" I honestly hate reading something when little details are wrong. It totally pulls me out of a story.

For the next part of the interview, I asked Gina a few questions about her works in particular.

Gina about her favourite scene she wrote, her experience with writing before writing fanfics and being inspired by her own family’s history:

What work of yours is your personal favourite?

Hm. I think Literally Making Love is my favorite because it's the most unique concept, and I'm really proud of some of the writing in that one.

Hike Up Your Skirt is, I think, my most popular one. But that's not surprising because it's complete filth.

Do you have a favourite scene that you wrote?

There's a scene in Literally Making Love when they're walking the dog through the woods, and they're talking about the concept of being lonely, and Harry realizes he's the only one in the world who can understand anything he's experienced. I just really loved how that scene came together. To me it's very visual, and it's got that kind of poetic, dreamy feeling to it that I love to find in fics (and am forever trying to emulate, but I think that might be the only time I've succeeded so far).

I told Gina that this was a scene that definitely made me think about the concept of being all alone with an experience. Here’s what she said about that:

I like moments in a story that make you stop and think about more than just the story you're reading. I think these days, we can much more easily connect with others who can understand most of our experiences very deeply. Although, I imagine if you were the only highly advanced AI robot in the world, you might have some experiences no one else has had to grapple with.

Is there a work of yours that was planned to go completely different than it came out in the end?

There are definitely moments within the stories that I never planned on, and they changed some aspects of how the story ultimately came together.

For example, in An Invincible Summer, the idea for Harry to hold on to memories by getting a camera popped out of nowhere.

In Literally Making Love, the scene of Louis painting Harry's tattoos over his scars came in a dream and that meant I added the aspect of Harry's body dysmorphia. So, little things for sure.

Whoever, However was your first fic you published. Did you write in any form before that?

I did.

I wrote non-fiction for a bunch of magazines and online outlets. I've also ghostwritten three books.

Beyond that, no. Just lengthy blog posts about two gay boybanders.

What were your inspirations for gathered on wings?

There was a photo of Louis in some sort of haphazardly layered jackets and standing in front of these graffitied walls, and it had this caption, saying that he looked like a PhD candidate at the Sorbonne. That was how the idea started.

I had wanted to write a teacher/student fic without the creepy aspect of grooming and inappropriate conduct, and somehow my comment led to Harry having been his intern and them meeting again years later.

Then, the research on all the modern art and the high-end art world informed the rest of the story.

You didn’t go much into detail how successful Harry’s art got after ‘Comrade’ recommended his art for an exhibition at the Marlborough Gallery. Was that the push Harry’s work needed to get the attention it deserved?

It was.

He'd been relying on sugar daddies to pay his way and to give him the connections to patrons. But Comrade vouching for him opened the doors to him being able to do it independently. It's that feeling of, "If I could just get my foot in the door, I could show them what I can do."

That was his foot in the door.

Gathered on wings was my first attempt at writing a chaptered fic, and there was a huge learning curve. There are parts of it I really like and parts I sometimes want to go back and re-write.

Do you think Louis’ identity in gathered on wings always stayed hidden even after they got engaged (and eventually married)?

I like to imagine that as Harry became more widely known, people became interested in his partner. And Louis would then decide to reveal his identity with a new installation that they collaborated on.

Staying hidden when your partner is famous is probably a hard thing to do.

I think so. Especially if you're in the same field. In a way, it mirrors the idea of the two of them coming out at some point.

You said in the notes for An Invincible Summer that it’s inspired by your grandfather’s life. Was that your only inspiration for the story?

It's what set the scene. Other than that, I knew I wanted to write about writing and seeing yourself in a book or feeling understood by someone you never met but who's somehow written about you and your life. The concept of feeling really "seen" is something that shows up again and again for me.

You didn’t go into any detail about Harry’s relationship with his adoptive parents after he left at the end of An Invincible Summer, even though his mother tried to support him as much as she could when he had to leave. Do you think they held contact after Harry was forced to leave or if he/they even went back as a part of H & L’s adventures?

I think Harry managed to stay in touch with his mother secretly and to eventually reunite with his sisters.

When I rewrote the story, I changed the middle sister to a brother to show another way that Harry was treated differently. So I imagine Big Jim and the little brother digging their heels in and acting like he never existed. But Harry and Louis eventually had a beautiful and extensive found family.

The end of Hike Up your Skirt (And Show Your World To Me) is pretty much open. How do you think their relationship progressed and do you think they have a chance of having a normal (as in no power imbalance or manipulation) relationship?

Mmm. I actually started writing a second part from Harry's POV where you see that Harry is also playing a game to get Louis to fall for him. I see their relationship becoming a 24/7 Dom/Sub life. I think they're both way too kinky and maybe a little too depraved to have a "normal" relationship.

Are any of your original characters inspired by people you know in your day-to-day life?

No, actually. LOL! Very simple answer. They're all just figments of my imagination.

A lot of other writers in the fandom have difficulties or are just a little uncomfortable with writing smut. That doesn’t seem to be the case for you. Why’s that?

HAHAHAHA! No, I think it’s actually the easiest part for me to write. I’m not sure why. I don’t have a lot of hang ups around sex, so maybe that helps. And I love the idea of character development through intimate scenes.

How did you come up with the idea for your fic rec masterpost here on Tumblr and how did all of that start?

I think it just started because someone asked if I could recommend some fics in a particular category (If I remember correctly, it might have been dystopian fics). And I had too much time on my hands, so I decided to make a header and write little blurbs about why I liked each one I was suggesting.

Somehow that turned into a deluge of people asking for different things and, for whatever reason, I had the time at that moment. So I made rec after rec.

At some point it was annoying that people kept asking for the same things, so I just made an alphabetical masterpost.

Is there a specific trope or genre you’d like to read more of?

Oh, that's a good question. It's so much easier to tell you what I don't like.

Honestly, to me, it's really more about the writing than about the trope or genre. But I do really like a good enemies-to-lovers fic, and if you can write a new twist on a fake relationship, I'm all in.

Do you somehow track the fics you’ve read? And if you do, can you give me a rough number of how many you’ve read?

So, I only bookmark fics I've really loved. Obviously some I love more than others, but I currently have 655 fics bookmarked.

I've been reading in this fandom for 11 years. Some I won't have read all the way through, but counting those, I'm sure I've literally read thousands.

I've gone through periods where I've just got a lot more free time at one point or another. And when I entered the fandom in 2013 there were literally so many terrific fics I didn't know where to start.

And every time you turned around there was another. It was very addicting.

Are you reading anything right now? If not, what was the last thing you’ve read?

I have a hard time reading when I'm actively writing, so nothing really recent.

The last fic I read that I really liked was Danger I Can't Hide by CelticSky. It's actually a WWII fic but set on the airbase where H is a pilot and Louis is a mechanic. It's just so well written and so well researched. Highly recommend.

For the next part of the interview, Gina answered some personal questions about her experiences in the fandom.

Since when are you in the fandom and what made you become a fan?

Since November 2013.

I took my daughter (who was 6 at the time) to see This Is Us. Did a little research to make sure this boy band was appropriate for her and then fell in love with them. We ended up seeing the movie three times, then bought it and watched it at home. She was a Niall girl.

She was my concert buddy for a while. One Direction at the Rose Bowl in 2014 was her first concert.

The weirdest comment you got?

Oh, I get some doozies on Tumblr.

I think one of my favorites was from years ago when I used to do a lot of NSFW fan art. I got an anonymous message from someone claiming to be Harry's lawyer and they were demanding I delete all of my fan art of Harry. HAHAHAHA! Like an attorney would send an anon. Or even ask for something like that. I still laugh when I think about that one.

Harry or Louis?

It's very hard to choose because they're both amazing. I'm a Harry girl from way back. But I obviously love and support Louis, too.

Harry just really inspires me in so many ways. And his music is more my speed.

Your favourite Harry era and your favourite Louis era?

Oh, that's hard. I think Harry's recent era (Harry's House) might be my favorite because he seemed so happy and so self-assured and confident in who he is as a person. He looked fantastic too. Other eras are special to me because of what was going on with the fandom at the time, or because I liked the way he dressed or whatever, but in terms of just enjoying him, I'd have to say this last tour.

Louis is a little more difficult for me because I've had a really hard time with his image over this last tour and his doubling down on babygate. I'm very happy he says he's really happy and proud of his album/tour, but if I had to pick my favorite I feel like he looked the healthiest and most at ease during MITAM promo. Oh, he looked great during his Walls promo, too.

Your favourite movie with H?

My Policeman. It was a bit uneven, but he really blew me away in some of his scenes. He understood that character inside and out.

Your favourite writer(s) in the fandom?

I actually have so many that I like, although many aren’t in our fandom anymore.

It might be easier to link you to a Favorite Authors rec I made a while ago.

What are your absolute favourite fics in the fandom?

I’m going to make it easy on myself again and link you to a Favourite Fics rec.

Is there a fic that is not necessarily your favourite but still always kind of stuck in your head ?

There are fics that aren’t necessarily the most groundbreaking or complex, but something about them makes me keep coming back to re-read. Don't kill me, but... My Favorite Re-Reads.

I wanted to give you a favorite out of that list, but as I scrolled I was like, oh wait, that one! No, that one! So... sorry, you get them all.

What makes you want to stop reading something?

Hm. So many things, honestly.

Writing where people try too hard to be poetic, continuous spelling and grammar mistakes, miscommunication as the only tension, no tension at all, characterizations that make no sense to me, fics that go on and on and on with no attempt at editing, kid fics, etc. I really have very few squicks, but bad writing is hard for me to ignore (I know "bad" is subjective, so I hope no one takes offense at that... just because I don't like it doesn't mean others don't love it).

Your favourite song at the moment?

Chappell Roan is stuck in my head lately. So, I'll say Casual (although Pink Pony Club is a bop).

Your favourite season?

Fall. Absolutely. SO fucking sick of summer.

The most unusual thing that inspired you?

LOL! I'd have to say the Vintage "Sleaze" novel that inspired Hike Up Your Skirt. It was called "Horizontal Secretary".

Who would you most like to read an interview from?

Well, I'm obviously going to say India because I think she's a great writer. But she's also so well-spoken and interesting.

I'd love to read an interview with CelticSky because I loved Danger I Can't Hide so much and I don't know them since they're on Twitter!

Lastly I asked Gina to give every work of hers a colour. Here’s the outcome of that:

Whoever, However -- yellow

Whoever, However is yellow, because when I think about it, I picture the warm, yellow shade of the wood paneling of the room they filmed in.

gathered on wings -- blue

I’m not sure why gathered on wings is blue in my head. Maybe it’s just because that’s the main color of the mood board I made.

An Invincible Summer -- green

An Invincible Summer is green because the rural Georgia setting became one of the characters of the fic. When I think about it, I see the sprawling farm, the rampant kudzu, blueberry fields, lunch under the oak trees… it just feels green to me.

Literally Making Love -- red

Literally Making Love is red because so much of the story is about what it means to be human and even though Harry’s heart isn’t “real” at some point he says to Louis, “Sometimes I feel like you made my heart too small because it doesn’t hold everything I feel for you. I feel it overflowing everywhere.” Or, maybe it’s because it has “Love” in the title. LOL!

Hike Up Your Skirt (And Show Your World To Me) -- purple

I don’t know. The first thought that came to me was purple because I pictured Harry’s character with love bite bruises.

A huge thank you to Gina again. Thank you for being so open and honest while answering my questions. I had the best time talking to you and was so invested in every work of yours.

#ao3 #ao3 author #author interview #dearwriterproject #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles #larry fic #larry stylinson #louis tomlinson

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crybabylipstick · 2 months ago

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TALKING ABOUT THE ALLEGATIONS AGAINST MELANIE MARTINEZ:

In November of 2017, Timothy tweeted "what if I have my own story of a*use but I'm scared to ruin the persons life and I still love them in a f*cked up way and the public really loves them and most probably wouldn't believe me".

On December 4, 2017, Timothy publicly accused Melanie of s*xual as*ault on Twitter. She alleged two nights during which she "repeatedly said no" to advances from Melanie, claiming she kept secret for years and describing how Melanie had performed s*xual act*vities on her without her consent.

Melanie replied to the accusation shortly after claiming Timothy's allegation was false:

"I am horrified and saddened by the statements and story told tonight by Timothy Heller. What she and I shared was a close friendship for a period of time. We came into each other's lives as we were both starting our careers as artists, and tried to help each other. We both had pain in dealing with our individual d*mons and the new paths we were forging, but I truly felt we were trying to lift each other up. She never said no to what we chose to do together. And although we parted ways, I am sending her love and light always." (In case the picture is blurry).

- Melanie Martinez

In an interview with Newsweek, Timothy claimed that Melanie tried to contact both her and her boyfriend around 20 minutes after publishing the accusations through text and phone calls. No evidence to back this up was ever shared. In the aforementioned interview, Timothy went on to say that Melanie's dismissal of her account "says it all":

First of all, I did say 'no,' multiple times, but even if I hadn't, that doesn't mean I wanted it. She dug her own grave saying, 'she didn't say no'. That's not consent."

- Timothy Heller

On December 10, Melanie thanked her fans who supported her after the accusations.

"I understand how hard it could be to see my side of the story, considering no one with a heart would want to invalidate anyone speaking up about this topic. I want to thank my fans who took the time to research the timeline, analyze past Instagram photos, and question the story being told, which reveal her false statements. I trusted so many people in my life who took advantage of that trust for their own personal gain. Please know that my intentions with everything that I do in my life are always pure and I would never be i*timate with someone without their absolute consent." (In case the picture is blurry).

- Melanie Martinez

On July 19, 2024, 6 years after the controversy, Timothy posted a 6-minute video onto TikTok detailing how she had been h*rassed and bullied off the internet due to speaking up about the all*gations. She also said that she felt "quite validated" from Melanie's response due to Melanie admitting that the two had something take place between them.

(screenshot of the video Timothy is talking about Melanie and the whole situation).

Now, before anyone says something like "Oh wow you're supporting a 🍇pist" "You support 🍇pe" "Can't believe you believe Melanie" etc. I don't believe anyone, I'm not picking sides neither I'm trying to start a fight or offend anyone. I've been getting a lot of hate about the whole situation from people who don't even know me, saying stuff like "You support 🍇pe" "I hope you get 🍇ped too" "Supporting a 🍇pist" and really mean and offensive stuff like that. I DO NOT support 🍇pe. I just wanted to clear some things out, just because I'm a fan of Melanie doesn't mean I support everything she does and believe in everything she says etc. I'm just a fan and nothing more, I DO NOT care about her personal LIFE or what she DOES. I just listen to her music and art. I'm not trying to offend anyone or anything. And I'm not saying you shouldn't express your thoughts or opinions on the whole situation or anything like that. Neither I'm saying you are in the wrong if you believe Timothy/Melanie. All I'm trying to say is we shouldn't judge or pick sides because only Melanie and Timothy know what truly happened. We might never know the truth, and that's totally okay. The only people who can judge each other are Melanie and Timothy. We don't even know what happened. Timothy could be lying, Melanie could be lying, who knows? Also, Melanie hasn't been proven GUILTY neither is Timothy's story INVESTIGATED or proven to be TRUE.

Another thing I want to point out is that even tho Timothy claims to be traumatised by Melanie and the whole situation etc. Timothy in 2015/2016 had dressed up as Melanie:

( 1st photo edited by me (I mean how I compared the pictures) , please give credits if you use etc. Thank you 🌬️🤍).

I'm sure you don't dress up as someone who has done something so serious and mean to you.

Not to mention when Timothy said the date that apparently the whole situation happened Melanie was in another state on the "CRYBABY TOUR". The last time I checked, you couldn't f*ck someone from that far away. (Not trying to offend anyone). And she also has claimed that she didn't remember the date that well yet she is still giving us a date.

Anyways, that's all I have to say, if you read all that, thank you, I really appreciate it. 🌬️🤍

( By the way, this is MY opinion about the whole situation. NOT trying to start a fight, be mean or offend anyone. Saying this so that there won't be any misunderstandings or false information 💕🩹).

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karlachismylife · 1 month ago

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Masochistic Kid With a Split Lip

CW: gn!sergeant!reader, descriptions of injuries and violence, brief descriptions of hospitals and medication, hurt/comfort.

(Title from Ren's song "Suic*de" , although I'm not sure the asterisk is by author's design. There is nothing about this theme in the fic itself!! Just a really good song with a fitting lyric.)

Also I wrote the fic first, then saw this art and it's kinda fitting. Beware, depiction of injuriess!! Go support the artist, it's beautiful work.

Usually you didn't have a single complaint about staying on a sniper position, providing cover and watching the main action unfold through a well-tuned scope or a pair of binoculars. Keeping your head clear, hands steady and ready to shoot whenever an order came in or the situation demanded.

However, this meant a lot of things escaped your attention, only coming through the comms as a radio play - and as any radio play, it relied heavily on your own imagination painting the picture, often much more saturated and vivid than reality turned out to be whenever you were re-told the events by your fellow teammates.

Close combat and buildings infiltration stayed outside your sight. And you were content with not witnessing someone's heroics firsthand - up until today.

Today you cursed the order that held you in your place.

Now, looking at Soap's face, beaten to a pulp, blood literally gushing down like a full-water river from his split eyebrow and nose that got almost evened out into a flat surface - that must've been that horrifying wet crack you heard before his microphone got torn off and trampled - you could put every hit, groan and thud to a visual aftermath. Limping and nursing a hand with a wrist that should have never been able to take that angle, he hung off Ghost's shoulder like a flabby, ratted scrap of cloth, but even as his inhumanely bloodshot eye struggled to focus or simply stay open, he still looked at you and tried to grin, teeth painted red behind painfully stretching split lips.

You held his one good hand that didn't get shattered into pieces after being repeatedly stomped on all the way back to the base.

"Get some sleep. You look exhausted," told you your Captain, his big supportive hand squeezing your stiff shoulder. You tried to voice a protest, sitting upright in the uncomfortable chair across from the infirmary bed, where Soap was already out like a light on the generous painkillers cocktail, but Price shoot you a warning, stern glare and furrowed his brows. "That's an order, Sergeant. Soap's gonna sleep for hours straight, and he'll need ya fresh and awake by the time he comes back, not a barely coherent sleep-deprived mess. Take a shower. Grab a bite to eat. Drink a cuppa. Have some sleep."

"Go. I'll stay in case he wakes early, I'll shoot you a message." You nearly snapped your neck as you turned to the source of the gruff voice - how long had Ghost been standing there, arms crossed, hunched back supporting the bleak medical green wall, eyes with some black still clinging around even after a shower glued to what could barely be recognized as Johnny's face.

Leaving this little room reeking of hospital seemed terrifying, but arguing with both your superior officers was a losing game - especially when they were right.

You still could barely sleep, waking up twice to the phantom feeling of blood from a broken nose filling your sinuses and throat, thick, viscous irony mass preventing you from breathing. Your sheets sticked to the wet patch of cold sweat between your shoulderblades, heart racing as you tried to push away the invasive thought of Johnny silently choking on his own blood in a closed off medical wing.

Morning found you with a warm thermos of sweet black tea - liquid energy - clutched in hands hanging between your knees on the same chair you were banished from mere hours ago. Ghost left an hour later after you sat down and showed no intention to move, probably satisfied with the bare minimum of rest you took and unwilling to argue with you when your eyes had that crazed glint of desperation deep inside pulsing pupils.

The first sound Soap produced sent a shockwave down your spine, jolting your whole body and immediately forcing you close to his bedside with the power of a gravity field of the sun that Johnny was.

"Well, good morning to you too," you smiled at him weakly, gripping the healthy hand he outstretched towards you and bringing it to your lips. "You're still handsome, you know?"

"LT said Ah looked lik' shite yesterday, " his own smile was timid, small, constricted by the pain of fresh wounds - his pouty lips were a swollen mess with dried blood stuck in the deep cut in the middle. "Dinnae ken whom tae believe oot of ye two."

Even the softest chuckle, successfully elicited from you, made Johnny's eyes sparkle brighter - beaten or not, he still charged off other people's energy, and now you were grateful to your Captain and Lieutenant for the fact that you weren't an exhusted knot of naked wires ready to shortcircuit and burst into tears due to plain emotional exhaustion.

"So you'll take Simon's word over mine, huh?" An unsaid I'm glad you're alive and laughing fell onto the stale sheet, barely avoiding Johnny's fucked up hand, put together like a puzzle in the course of several hours yesterday. "I want to kiss you, you know."

"I wanntae kiss ye too, bonnie," he rasped, licking his dry, bruised lips and glancing at yours. "Doc didnae say we cannae, ye ken? Gonnae kiss me a'right and Ah'll be good as new, aye?"

"Are you sure I'm not gonna hurt you, sunshine?" Oh how tempting he was, even lying with a broken nose and stitches in random patches of skin - still victorious. Ye shoulda seen th' other guy, bonnie - he told you in his dazed state yesterday. Ghost chuckled darkly and muttered there wasn't anything left to see under his nose.

"Ah'm sure. C'mere, Ah missed ye." Johnny's good hand gripped you almost desperately, barely a shiver of pain in fingers weakened by huge doses of whatever they pumped into him to keep his shocked body stable. He tugged on your wrist insistently, and you gave in, leaning down carefully and timidly touching his lips with yours.

Of course it wouldn't do, it was Johnny you kissed.

He pressed his mouth into yours greedily, breath stuttering with a poorly muffled grunt - startled, you tried to pull away and check on him, stop causing him pain and soothe the wounds you disturbed, but he already cupped the back of your head, digging his fingers into your scalp harshly, and showed no intent of stopping.

"Mmph, Johnny, you're- hurt... mmh!"

No chance. Wincing and grunting like an old man with a broken back, Soap kept kissing you, giggling into your worried mouth like a little troublemaker.

You decided, you were going to tell Ghost.

#juju's love is illegal celebration #cod #call of duty #soap cod #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #oneshot #hurt/comfort

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thisismeracing · 2 years ago

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King of my heart | MS47 | part. 04

a/n: King of My Heart was supposed to be mainly a "normal" series, not much Social Media content, and though I like doing those chapters they limit my imagination at some point. So I decided to mix it, I'm going to alternate chapters, and we are gonna have the best of both worlds (or so I hope), seeing people react to Y/n and Mick's relationship but also having a privileged seat to watch their interactions and feelings unfold. This chapter is when their first interaction happened, a bit before the first chapter of the series. I hope you guys like it <3 let me know your thoughts and opinions.

Pairing: hamilton!reader (she/her) x mick schumacher

Warnings: curse words, fluff, not proofread etc etc. Minors DNI!

word count: 2.3k

part 03 | series masterlist | part 05

Summary: Mick Schumacher rode a lousy wave for quite some time, so when the sky gets cleaner and the sun brighter he just knows something terrible may be in store for him. Whereas y/n was just so magnetic, and the possibilities of life with her seemed better than anything his mind could ever create, that's why, for the first time in forever, he throws cautious carelessly through the window, hoping to get to the finish line before it catches up on him.

When Mick saw Y/n for the first time, he was curious and speechless, both things that are involved in the process of blooming love. He had no idea at the time, though in his head, maybe he was just excited to be in a new environment, a place that would embrace him, teach him, and accept him for who he was, not for his father's legacy, or an expectation based on a remote reality.

When she entered the room, he knew people kept talking, working, and breathing, yet he had no idea how because for him, it was different, it was the first time he saw her, and she was suddenly the center of his attention. Big brown eyes stared around everything, nut-brown hair around her head like a halo, full lips, a round nose, and brown skin. Y/n was breathtaking, and he only noticed he was holding his when a friend touched his shoulder. Mick directed his gaze to Lewis for a split second, and he felt lucky he, too, was looking at her. Otherwise, the Mercedes driver would likely see the weird way in which his friend seemed lost. And, of course, his coworker was looking at her too. Who would not want to look at her? They had to be crazy not to. If given the opportunity, Mick would stare at that woman the whole day, and he did not even know her name. So, yes, in his mind, it could only be explained as a curiosity. Although he comprehended very well what kind of curiosity it was and that, he had never really felt that, quite the opposite, he was usually doing his own thing and minding his business, and new people were welcome. And he was friendly, but he was not the type of person to seek someone’s attention or friendship, at least not so fast, not so intently. Y/n was not only a new person, but she was the bearer of new and strange feelings in the pit of Mick’s stomach.

“Oh, she’s so sly, you see. She comes and goes around without people noticing. It scares me sometimes,” Hamilton spoke, smiling in her direction. Mick thought: how could she come and go unnoticed? The second the door opened, he could not take his eyes off her.

“It’s a matter of practice,” she replied with a small grin. The way her lips folded looked almost artistic, like the final brushstroke in a work of art, when everything seems to fit together to create the final result, the bigger picture, “Now, how’s my favorite brother doing?”

Mick did not even notice the way he finally took a breath of fresh air. She was not his friend’s girlfriend, although Mick did not know if her being his sister would make things any easier.

“I’m your only brother Y/n,” Lewis reminded, and she huffed as if he was pointing out something unnecessary.

“You can be my only and favorite brother, both things at the same time. Stop being so pokey,” she joked.

“Mick, this is Y/n, my baby sister,” he turned to Mick, who was able to recompose in seconds. He was a driver after all, he had to be fast and have good reflexes, “Y/n, this is Mick, my friend and work colleague.”

“Nice to meet you, Mick” She waved and made her grin wider, in fact, when their eyes met, her lips opened in a full big smile. It felt like watching a flower blossom, and it also felt like a gesture only for him.

“Likewise, Y/n.”

“I’ve heard you’re new around Mercedes. Welcome to the family.”

“Feels like it indeed,” he grinned, “A family, I mean.”

“It’s good to hear that. God knows this whole thing can be tough. You don’t need to have people making it worse,” she pointed, and that was all it took for Mick to know that Y/n was more than talkative, and honest. He was sure she would tell him the truth about whatever he asked, her genuine opinion, no holding backs.

Someone seemed to call Lewis, and he said something neither Y/n nor Mick could hear properly and then left. Her brown eyes were kept glued right into his ocean ones, almost daring him to deflect. He felt exposed to her, but in a good way, because for some reason, he wanted her to be capable of reading his thought through his eyes, “You’re, uh- it’s your first time in the paddock? I never saw you around before.”

She offers him a small smile, looks at someone in the back, waves, and then turns her attention to his face again, “Nah, I’m here all the time, just away from the cameras and most of the eyes.”

“Can I ask you why?”

She shrugged, “I mean, of course you can. Am I gonna answer, though? That’s a different question,” Y/n joked, and Mick could only smile brighter and roll his eyes.

“I- I’m just curious,” he seems to breathe for a second when their eyes lock again, “about you,” he finishes.

“Yeah, me too,” it’s a whisper like she is telling it to herself, acknowledging that she, too, wants to know every little detail about him. Her eyes divert to an engineer that passes them, her hands go up like the last time, and she gives a gentle wave. “I like to be myself. I mean, I like to be Y/n Y/l/n. I hope you don’t get me wrong, I absolutely adore my brother and our family, but in some circumstances, your name can be a blessing and a curse” Y/n’s eyes searched for his again. She was waiting for the short nod he gave. A confirmation he understood the situation too, a way of demonstrating that she could keep going because he knew there was more to come. “I didn't want people to pin my success on my brother’s name, to say I had it easier just because he made it. The media loves to do that with women, saying they only made it because of a man or trying to pin hard work and talent as luck.”

He nodded, “I get it. I used to do that when I was a bit younger, to use a different surname so people would not act differently or expect more than one hundred percent of me. It’s tiring. I can sympathize.”

“A Schumacher, huh?” Y/n tatters before adding, “My brother told me a bit of what went on. For the record, it’s their loss. I’m sorry you had to go through such heartless people, but I’m glad they let you go so you can be here now,” so we could meet, so I could feel like drowning in your blue eyes, so that my body would feel lighter, she thought.

“I’m happy to be here too. I don’t think I would change a thing,” Y/n watches as the tip of his tongue goes out to wet his pink, plush lips, the way his eyes dart quickly around her whole face.

“It gives you experience at the end of the day,” she is quick to point out, feeling a tad nervous.

Schumacher nods, and before he can ask one more question, to hear her quirk remarks one more time, someone shows up, calling him to look at something new they did in the car.

“See you around, Mick,” she gives him that same half smile from a work of art before she touches his arm when passing. He could swear he shivered with the feeling of her skin against his.

Y/n goes around, greeting some of the staff she is friends with before finally reaching Toto. He gives her a pointing look, and she rolls her eyes. The older man has always been really supportive of Y/n as well, they would always talk when she came to the paddock, and their conversations would go around about anything and everything. Yn always admired Toto’s leadership skills, and she was open about how she thought his kind of work not only asked you for the technical side but, most importantly, the human side. Toto was able to captivate Lewis, and he did just the same with Y/n. He was also one of the people who made sure her privacy and image were safe around the Mercedes garage. People respected him, so if Toto Wolff says, ‘nobody talks about the fact that Lewis has a sister and she’s here a lot’ that is precisely what happens: nobody would talk, or most of them would not. Y/n was aware her scheme of keeping this under wraps was collective work, and she was happy to be in a place where people liked her brother so much they chose to protect her too.

“You took forever to show up this year. What happened?” he asked, taking off his headphones.

“A lot is going on with work, I’m launching a new collection soon, and you know I like to be in every step of the process, right?”

“Literally,” he joked, pointing to her new shoes, which he knew were most likely from said new collection. Y/n would always use them as a test, making sure they were comfortable and safe for the customers.

She jokingly rolled her eyes before adding, “Yeah, exactly, but doing this is quite difficult sometimes, especially when you want to be attentive to the human side of those who work with you.”

“You’re doing a great job, and I’m proud of how far you’ve come since the first time you appeared here, a small kid determined to do her own name,” he held her chin high, smiling. “Let me know when this new collection drops. I’m sure Susie would love to get one of every shape and color.”

Her smile grew wider, she loved Susie Wolff, and she loved their love. They were very private, but Y/n has been around for long enough to know how big and strong their love is, and she enjoys watching it from the sidelines whenever they interact.

“I will be sure to send some exclusives for her.”

Toto gave her one of his side smiles and nodded before having to leave to attend to some problem, so Y/n made her rounds around, asking questions, interacting, and making sure to annoy her older brother every once in a while. She took some time aside and sat with some of the media crew to answer her work e-mails while they typed away creating content. It was refreshing to be in the Mercedes garage. The chaos worked perfectly well, and she always felt energized.

When work was done and, it was time to leave, Y/n bid her goodbyes and did a small search with her eyes for a blond mop of hair, which did not go unnoticed by her brother.

“He had to leave a bit earlier,” Lewis explained.

“What?” she asked, securing her laptop case and bag in one arm and starting her walk to the garage. Lewis knew it was her way of changing the subject, to shift the attention.

“You’re my sister,”

“It’s been twenty-one years. You would think this is an established fact by now,” Y/n was a fan of using humor as a coping mechanism too.

“Mick is a driver,” he adds.

“Yeah, he’s like your teammate too now, right?”

“He’s also my friend,” Lewis points.

“That’s good. He seems like a good friend to have around,” her curls bounce as she reaches his car and opens the back door to load her things there.

“You’re deflecting, Y/n.”

“And you are not stating your points with clarity, Lewis,” she let go of the door, shutting it in the sequence and opening the passenger one.

“I saw your interaction, saw your interest perhaps, you’re not aware of it, or you’re just trying to brush it off and lie to yourself, but I’m doing my job as the older brother and warning you: by dating someone famous you may have to give up some things, such as your privacy,” now they’re sitting inside the car, he’s facing her, and she’s looking ahead, a woof of air leaves her lips before she finally looks at her brother. “You know how the media is, and if they even sniff a new romance between you, a Hamilton, and Mick, a Schumacher, they won’t go easy. They will want all the details, and I trust the Mercedes people, but we don’t know everyone. There are new people always showing up. They can let it slip about you without intentions, share information without noticing.”

She opens her mouth to answer, but unlike the usual days, she doesn’t have anything ready to say.

“And don’t forget the fact that he is my coworker, Y/n. If anything goes down the wrong path, you will either have to face him daily or lose my races. You will have to face your heartbreak every day. Do you remember Jonathan from high school? How you missed a week of classes when that fucker dumped you?! And then you had to finish the year there anyways, had to sit in the same class as him.”

“And I changed schools by the end of the semester,” she adds with a small nod. She understands his point, and she even agrees to some extent. However, she wanted to add that it was a different context, that Anthony was a douche, he never really liked her, and nobody in that school really did, this being the reason she decided to leave. She was a lot of things but not a coward, though she knew that was not what her brother was saying. She felt like reminding herself.

“I’m just trying to take care of you. I would hate to watch you suffer,” his voice is soft, and so are his eyes and hands when they reach through the center console to lace their fingers.

There’s a small smile of appreciation on her lips, “I love you, and I love how careful you are with me, but I’m not a kid anymore” She tightens her grip on his hand, and they share an attentive and agreeing look for some seconds when she adds, “And Mick is not Jonathan.”

“That’s what scares me.”

***********************

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