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ciaossu-imagines · 1 year ago

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Of course and sure thing. Oh damn, that’s so horrible. I was actually kind of spoiled about the events as well, not in what happened exactly but that it did happen since at the time of the chapter’s release I was away on holiday with my mum’s side of the family and I usually don’t bother to block the tag since most spoilers are something I can scroll past and they’re usually not too big since I read it every week but yeah, I saw something referring to what happened in that chapter and gods that hurt so we both unfortunately had to deal with it being spoiled, though with you it’s obviously much worse. And yay. Looking forward to hearing all your thoughts on everything that happened if you want to share it all. Oh, there really aren’t many chapters of Persona 3. I see. I also hope you don’t have to stay late and I’m glad to hear that you have another day off tomorrow. I see. Can imagine that being quit annoying. You calling caffeine god is amazing. And wow. How long does it take you to get through a pot? If you don’t mind answering. I managed to write a few points about the things that stood out luckily so yay to that. Oh damn, he really does look like Lavi from D. Gray-Man. And I see. That’s nice to know. Sure thing. I finished the last season of Demon Slayer that’s out now so I’ll probably be getting to it soon. Yeah, which is really understandable since A:TLA is just such an amazing series in so many ways. Of course and glad to hear you adored Zuko and true to his redemption arc. And I can’t blame you for Sokka being your first initial favourite since I also really like him and like every time he tells one of his silly jokes, I laughed so he’s definitely someone fun to have around.

Yeah, the Demon Slayer manga is just 205 chapters long. And the fact that it’s so short and still tells such an amazing story is yet another reason as to why I love it so much. Yeah. Like the final arc consists of two mini-arcs, one of 47 chapters and the last one is 22 chapters long, so it would entirely be possible to split it up since the last arcs that they adapted were like 30 chapters long, but I actually do presume that they won’t since the first season of Demon Slayer put all of the mini arcs of the first main arc into the season. And I honestly don’t mind what they do since I’ll always be looking forward to whatever there is of it. So I presume we’ll probably just have a longish last season, but I’m up for anything, as long as it’s adapted well. Okay. Cool. And I did and I was just like constantly fangirling and at times I couldn’t tell whether it’s because I was enjoying the sound of his voice or because what his character, Genya, was doing because he’s just such a precious boy. Thank you for saying that. He actually has a small first appearance in the fifth episode of the first season and then he’s gone and doesn’t properly appear until The Swordsmith Village Arc.

Thank you. It’s wild since I usually don’t forget things entirely so it’s a whole new experience for me. But the fact that it happened so early does help it make sense. Yeah. Though later on, there is this arc in Fairy Tail called ‘Key of the Starry Heavens arc’ and it is entirely filler but it’s still really enjoyable to watch. Gods, that’s me with Lawless’s song. And I see. I’m not sure about the Beyblade that you watched, but the Metal Saga series does have the opening song translated like that as well. The fact that Iruma is very musical does sound very nice. Of course it’s adorable. And now I’m looking even more forward to seeing it but I’ll still wait until I’m done with everything else I have to do and watch.

Yeah, true. Like I think the movie does but from what I’ve heard / seen, the movie concentrates more on the characters themselves than the actual match which makes no sense because both are really important. And yeah, it definitely did. Like this match that was adapted is 34 chapters long and when the movie was first announced, people were talking about how it’d have to be a 5 hour long movie for all of that to be properly adapted. And the thing is, the saddest thing of all is that we’re not even sure we’ll be getting another season. There were two movies set to be released, so this one and another one that will come out who knows when, and the initial poster to advertise it was ‘Haikyū!! Final’ which just does not sound great so now me and other Haikyuu!! fans are hoping that the studio will use all the money they got from the ticket sales and other stuff to make a proper fifth season. Sure thing 💕 Hell yeah and Hinata has such an amazing moment at the beginning of the second season that people still referrer to to this day. I see. That makes sense. But yeah, none of the Haikyuu!! babies are one-note and that’s just another great thing about the series. And yes to all those things of you describing him.

Me too but it’s really difficult because she’s not very good at seeing the wrong in her ways. Like say if I were to tell her about it, she’d get so offended and she thinks she’s in the right for saying what she did. Yes, the fighting style really is. Like it is hinted at in the opening, but it’s nothing compared to seeing it in action and it’s just so cool 😭 And yes, be excited about him. I love the Shinazugawa brothers, what more can I say. Oooh. That sounds like such a lovely flavour. And that makes perfect sense. I hope you and your friend had a wonderful time together. Oh and that does sound like a good idea since then it’s all nicely together.

I’m so sorry to hear you got spoiled on that as well! I can definitely get not blocking the tag – I just did it because I know that if I see a spoiler, I’m going to read it instead of scrolling past, just because I can’t resist that temptation, haha! It sucks though that you got spoiled like that on such a big reveal, because I can imagine how much impact it would have had for people who didn’t know it was coming! And you know, it’s funny, because I’m as caught up as my manga app had (up to Chapter 254), but I don’t really have a lot of thoughts on it. I feel like the story is an absolutely brilliant one, the author is an insanely gifted technical writer because his use of things like foreshadowing and visual storytelling is gorgeous. I feel like I have solid grasps on the characters enough to write them; I know quite a few people excited to have me write them, so I’m going to. Overall, I very much enjoy the story and am excited to see how the rest of the story plays out to it’s ending, which is very close obviously. The writer’s storytelling has been well-paced for the most part, there’s little unnecessary drag or tangents, I’m going to be surprised if the series is still going active in even December of this year. I figure by early fall, absolutely latest, it’s ending with it being weekly. However, I can’t say I’ve fallen in love with this one like I have some of the other fandoms. Comparing my love for say, Servamp, K Project, or KHR and my love for Jujutsu Kaisen – my love for Jujutsu Kaisen is the little, tiny plastic cup you get to take your medicine with and the love for those other series is the big bottle of medicine. Again, the creator is absolutely a gifted storyteller. I fully believe they’ve known a least a full half an arc to a full arc ahead of where the story was currently what was going to happen, and I have zero doubts whatsoever that they’ve had at least a couple ideas as to an ending since the beginning and have a full, clear view of how everything’s ending now. Their world is well-built and constructed, their power-sets well figured out. They’re a tight writer with great focus and there are parts of their writing and visual storytelling that I wish I was even 1/10th as good at as a writer. However, I always kind of feel like JJK is very much a case of the story driving the characters and not the characters driving the story. When it comes to the JJK characters, I very much do feel like they were all created because the creator needed a character to advance the story or to fill an essential role in the story and that when it came to creating them, their characters were built around what role they needed to play and what they needed to accomplish so they feel less to me like real, actual people like some characters from other media and more like…just characters. Don’t get me wrong here, because both types of storytelling and character creation are entirely valid and both can be exceptionally well-done. JJK is a prime example of story-driven media done exceptionally well, if not completely brilliantly (because let’s remember, at the bottom of story-driven media, we have things like Twilight, which is that type of storytelling done exceptionally poorly). But I feel like most people are drawn more to one type of story-telling process than the other and I’m just more overall compelled by character-driven storytelling so JJK is in that ‘technically brilliant, I really enjoy it, but can’t get obsessed with it like some others can’ field.

Anyway, now that I’ve probably infuriated or offended some of the JJK fans, onto the rest of the message, haha! There really aren’t that many chapters of any of the Persona manga that I’ve found, so I’m kind of hoping that they’re all just really sort manga and that I’m not reading incomplete ones! And thank you for the well-wishes for the day off. Unfortunately, I had impromptu plans sprung on me that day that ate up most of my day, which made me a little cranky, not going to lie. I’m doing all I can to keep with commission timelines though, even with Etsy and real life…might require some burning of the midnight oil, but I’m holding up and doing well 😊 Yeah, caffeine is the god I worship, haha, as someone who isn’t overly religious. I don’t usually go through a pot that quickly though. Most mornings, I make the standard 12-cup pot around 6:30 and keep it on warm until I finish it around noonish. That day though, gone in about three hours, give or take. It’s not even keeping me awake so much anymore, thanks to having such a high caffeine tolerance, it’s more to keep away the migraines and because I find coffee soothing and sometimes, all I need is a short break to make a cup of coffee, just move and have a moment away from the computer to get the next burst of inspiration for what to write next. I’m excited to read those then! And I’m glad I’m not the only one who saw the resemblance then, even if it’s been a dog’s age since I actually watched or read D. Gray-Man. I wonder if that series ever wrapped up…things for later Dee to look up, I think! Speaking of Demon Slayer though, I paused everything else I was watching because I got in the mood to watch that. So I’m done the first season and the Mugen Train movie. However, when I go to the next season, it’s a really short season that just looks like the movie? I need to figure out if Crunchyroll just screwed up and put the movie into episodes or if those Mugen Train episodes are actually episodes or not, so I need to Google that too. Just every time I sit down at the computer, I get to working on creating playlists and storyboards for all the commissions instead of googling that, haha. I’m really enjoying it so far, though I’m pissed at the movies ending, because I thought I finally found a character that would be my favourite and then it was like the anime decided to just be laugh and be like ‘ha, fuck you’ lmao. I’m excited to continue it, just need to clear that up first! And Avatar is just incredible. I hope everyone has at least given it a try, and if any of my readers haven’t, please go check it out. You won’t be disappointed you did, I promise 😊 Sokka was definitely my initial favourite because of the comic relief, though I remember really liking Toph after her introduction too!

It still amazes me that the author was able to tell a complete and full story of the magnitude that Demon Slayer seems to be setting it’s story up in that few of chapters. It must have been very well-paced and without any extras then! I wish I could find the manga to read, though I am very much enjoying the anime (and to answer before the question is asking, I am watching the dub because it makes it so much quicker to watch). Thank you for explaining that and it’s really neat that the final arc was divided like that! I wonder if they’ll do a season for the first mini-arc then and a final movie to end it all, because that might be interesting if they do. I really enjoyed the first movie, felt it moved along well and was mostly well done (my biggest complaint about Demon Slayer so far is that sometimes the CGI is super noticeable and visually jarring and fuck me, were those CGI train tentacles something else and entirely unpleasant visually in that movie). I haven’t got to see much more of Genya other than Selection, where obviously you weren’t seeing the best of him. In fact, he was pretty damn easy to hate in that episode but still interested me, so I’m looking forward to re-encountering him in The Swordsmith Village Arc.

No problem, of course 😊 And I feel like a lot of the Bleach filler arcs were very forgettable, so I wouldn’t worry any! I definitely haven’t seen that particular filler arc of Fairy Tail, or if I have, I forgot it entirely, but I will check it out when I do a Fairy Tail reread! Thanks for the heads up on that! You know, I hadn’t thought about that, but I’m pretty sure the Beyblade I watched had an English opening song too, come to think of it! It’s been a real long time since I watched it, though it’s in my rewatch list (along with Digimon Adventures and Yu-Gi-Oh!, like the child I am, haha!). Yay, I’m excited for when you eventually get around to it 😊 And that sounds like a movie that I would absolutely adore, since I do love me some character focus, but if that was the only adaption the match got and it was an important match, then it also should have been shown and focused on in its entirety as well, so I can get the frustration. And it definitely sounds like it was a very important match, to have stretched across that many chapters, so I am so sorry the movie was such a let down. It also sucks to hear there might not be another season! It doesn’t make sense for them to wrap everything up in just two movies! Especially since a movie can’t realistically cover more than 20 decent-length chapters without rushing! I’m excited to get to that Hinata moment then 😊 And yeah, I’m noticing that about the Haikyuu characters and am appreciating the characterization in it, especially compared to some other sports manga I’ve watched or read. I’m sorry to hear that. I know people like that and do know how hard they can be to deal with, so I wish you luck and peace! I am very excited, actually, to see all the Hashira’s fighting styles, now that I’ve met them and seen at least one of theirs (somewhat…the Hashira did really little fighting in comparison to the others but we won’t get into my feelings on that.) And thank you 😊 We had had a lovely time! I hope you’re doing amazing, my dear!

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widowbitessting · 3 years ago

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Sugar Mommies Pt.6.5

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6

To say it’s a filler part, it’s still nearly 1500 words!

Thanks to everyone for the lovely comments in the last part! Legit worked my little butt off and it paid off! I’m really finding my feet and confidence with this fic now and hopefully I’ll be able to sort a posting schedule soon so keep your eyes peeled for that post! ❤️

I really gotta start proof reading before I post but I get too excited😂

If you wanna be tagged, comment and let me know :) Let me know what you think! ❤️

“What? How could you?!”

“MJ, I said I was sorry!”

You shut your apartment door behind you with a small sigh.

Ever the dramatic best friend.

“Sorry won’t bring the hot chocolate you promised me, will it, Y/N!”

“By the time we finished talking the place was closing!” You say, fighting the urge to smile as you watch MJ fumble to kick her sneaker off. “Plus I think what I’m about to show you might make you forget about your hot chocolate…”

Her sneaker goes soaring across the room.

“Nothing could do that, Y/N.” MJ says, walking into the kitchen.

You can feel the cheque burning a hole in your bag.

You sit at the table with a sigh, rolling your eyes as you watch MJ move around the kitchen to make her sugary fix.

You don’t miss her picking up two mugs automatically.

“You could be telling me by now if you had brought me my drink…” she mumbles.

“I can wait.” You reply smugly. “It’s not like it’s anything major.”

“Good.”

By the time MJ sits at the kitchen table with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate, you’re scrolling through your phone on Facebook.

She slides your drink over to you and sips her own.

“Mmmm, delicious.” She says sarcastically. “Nothing could beat this. Nothing.”

“Really?” You put your phone down and reach into your bag, removing the birthday card you got from Natasha, Wanda and Carol. “Not even this?”

She looks down at the card and raises an eyebrow.

“A funny toast pun?”

“Open the card you idiot.”

You’re practically vibrating in your seat.

“I don’t see why -”

MJ squeaks.

Literally squeaks as she looks at the cheque in the card.

She doesn’t say anything for a whole 30 seconds.

And when she finally looks up at you, with wide eyes and mouth still open in shock, you can only laugh at her.

“...yeah…!”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME SOONER?!”

“You -”

“1000 DOLLARS?!”

“Yeah-”

“AFTER ONE DATE?!”

“Meet up.”

MJ looks back down at the money.

“This isn’t fake is it?”

“No.”

“…holy crap!”

“I know!” You reply excitedly.

“This is clearly the way to go. Damn. I should have gone on the site too!” MJ sighs. “$1000.”

You laugh.

“Do they want another sugar baby?”

“Aren’t you straight?”

“Honey, for this kinda money I’ll be anything they want!”

“And aren’t you dating Peter?”

“Who? Oh. Eh, details, details.”

You burst out laughing at that.

“I still can’t believe this. You’ve only just met them and they’ve given you this!”

“They said it was a tester on the monthly allowance I’d get…”

MJ’s eyes snap back to yours.

“Monthly allowance?! Damn, Y/N. I’m actually jealous right now.”

“Hey! This was your idea!”

MJ takes a huge gulp of her hot chocolate without wincing.

“Okay that’s true; this idea was fucking brillaint.” MJ says. “So tell me everything. Are they fit? They looked fit in the car.”

“You could hardly see them, MJ.”

She shrugs. “I can tell hotness from blocks away. It’s a gift. Now tell me all about it!”

And then you remember the mortifying incident.

You quickly reach across the table and smack MJ repeatedly on the arm; calling her all the profanities you can think of.

She manages to swat you away.

“What what what?”

“You! You, stuffing my thong into my handbag!”

She bursts out laughing.

“Oh my God! Did they see it?!”

“Did they see it? IT FELL OUT! Natasha fucking picked it up!”

MJ screams. Literally screams with laughter and nearly falls off her chair.

“Stop it! She picked up your thong?”

“YES!”

MJ struggles to compose herself for a full minute, wiping her tears from her eyes.

“...did she like it…?”

You go to swipe her again, narrowly missing her.

“That’s not the point! Do you know how embarrassing that was? It was awful!” You can feel your cheeks heating up in the memory of it happening. Of Natasha’s sharp green eyes looking into your own; the way her lips curled into a sinful smile that really made your knees weak…

“She said it was one way to break the ice.” You say.

“I mean she isn’t wrong. Did the other two see?!”

“Wanda and Carol? No thankfully!”

“Aw that’s a shame!”

You glower at her.

“So one of them has already seen your panties - excellent! What happened next?”

“We sat at a table and just…talked…”

“About what?”

“Each other. I got to know about the three of them and they got to know about me.”

“Did you kiss?”

“No! Well, Wanda kissed my cheek before I got out of the car. And I hugged them all for the money.”

“Wow. I’m surprised they didn’t expect some tonsil action after giving you the money.”

“Gross, who even says that anymore?”

“Me!” MJ giggles. “I think I’m still in shock. What’re you gonna do with the money? Are you gonna see them again?”

“Well I’ll use most of it on the rent for this month and then they said to spend the rest on a treat for myself, so I’m not sure what I’ll get with it…”

“...and are you gonna see them again?” MJ pushes.

“Yeah, I am.” You can’t stop the grin from forming on your face.

“When? Can I come too?”

“No clue, we’ll text tomorrow and I think we’ll decide then.” You shrug. “And no, you can’t.”

You stand up with your drink.

“And before you start to beg me, I’m going to bed. I’ve got an early class tomorrow.”

“Oh come on, Y/N!”

MJ follows you out of the kitchen and to your bedroom.

“Nope! Not happening. Goodnight, MJ!”

You shut your door before she can protest, laughing when you look down and see her shoving the $1000 cheque under your bedroom door.

“Don’t lose that!”

“I won’t!”

“Night you absolute legend!” She yells.

With a smile still plastered on your face, you place the money on your bedside table and get ready for bed; checking your phone a few times for any signs of messages from the group chat.

There wasn’t.

You can’t stop the pang of disappointment.

Even though you remember agreeing on messaging tomorrow after class.

So you get into bed and curl underneath the quilt, deciding to put the cheque under your pillow.

You’re not sure when you fell asleep; but when you wake up absolutely gasping for a drink, it’s almost 3 in the morning.

Your hand drifts under your pillow, just to make sure it wasn’t a dream and; much to your relief, you can feel the money still there.

When you check your phone, your heart jumps into your throat.

You’ve got 1 unread message from the Sugar Baby❤️ group chat.

You have to take a couple of deep breaths before opening it.

It’s a voice note.

Making sure your phone won’t blast it out at a ridiculous volume, you press play and hold your phone to your ear.

“Hey Y/N,” Natasha says, “I know we agreed we’d message you tomorrow but -”

“- we couldn’t resist!” Wanda shouts.

“Let Nat speak baby,” You hear Carol say.

“So consider this a goodnight message from the three of us.”

“And a thank you for coming to meet us!” Wanda adds before muttering, “sorry, sorry.”

Natasha lets out a husky little laugh and you want to save the voice note just for that moment alone.

“Sleep well, detka.” Natasha says.

“Enjoy class tomorrow, study hard!” Carol chips in.

“Why can Carol cut in but I can’t?” Wanda asks.

“Shhh baby. Say night to Y/N.” Natasha instructs.

You can hear shuffling and then Wanda’s voice is closer to the phone.

“Night printsessa! Speak to you tomorrow!”

“Anything else to add ladies?” Natasha asks. “No? Okay then. Bye, Y/N!”

The voice note ends.

Before you can fully stop yourself, you’re sending a voice note back.

“I’m shocked you guys didn’t hold out; I really thought I was gonna be the one to message first.” You give a small laugh. “Thank you again for the coffee and the money - MJ couldn’t believe her eyes. Remind me to get her a hot chocolate tomorrow on my way home from class? She wasn’t impressed I came home empty handed! If I forget tomorrow, I can officially blame you three ‘cos I’ve asked you to remind me…”

You shuffle in bed and let out a sigh.

“Did you watch Encanto when you got in? I might watch that tomorrow when I get in. Anyway, I just woke up to get a drink and saw your message. It felt rude to not reply hence the late night response. Hopefully this won’t wake you! Night guys!”

You chuck your phone down and wince.

Hence? Who says hence these days?

You flop back down into bed and cover your face with your hands.

At least MJ didn’t hear you say that.

That’s a positive.

Right?

Pt.7

If you made it here, I gotta question:

Do you want this to be in the MCU so our ladies have their powers or in an AU where they’re regular civilians? Comment ❤️ for MCU or 💜 for AU.

Thanks! 💜❤️

Prompts:

Tag List:

@fishlikestuff @spartanghost118 @ironsnowstorm @romeo-the-cactus @dont-tell-anyon @brutashafan @midnightreme @your-my-mission @trikruismybitch @bitxhinthecomments @messuhp @severepeanutartisanhands @8plasma @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @khiaraaa-in-spacee @madamevirgo @selluequestrian @kaitlynroseb @jazzyjimenez @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @coollemonsaresour @pianogirl2121 @loomontoia @wandas-lover @cybeleceto @tomy5girls @starmako26 @claudiamyan @heyeveryone101 @emilyprentisslittlewhore @vynia @cordeliaswhore @angelicl-y @ashadash0904 @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all @stuckyforliife @ktstudies @your-my-mission @tomy5girls @coollemonsaresour @khiaraaa-in-spacee @emilyprentisslittlewhore @umsolikeblog @angelicblackwolf @pianogirl2121 @upsidedowndanvers @anastasiabeaverhousen87 @wrenniee @spiderling-18 @madamevirgo @beforeoursecrets @8plasma @imdreamingblo@wandas-love @mmmmokdok @greydinosauregg @crazylittlereader2474 @thatonehippiefriend @midgardianweasley @battleg03 @sav06nat @marvelwomen-simp @ineedafinghug @suki-is-a-queen @wandanatblogs @wandanatstan @im-in-demilesbians-with-you @crispychaospanda @raqelacevedo @harmoni0527 @laaurrel @starmako26 @osterfield23 @wandanatblogs @ophelias-heart @natashafamdreams @osterfield23 @sweeterlust @adyadalia @jemilyssecretlover @aleynaishere @jayxxace @smileyromanoff @ashadash0904 @scxpingdrms @amcg0615 @insomniac-delusions @yorkthelocksmith @emilyprentisslittlewhore @wandavixen @gay-ant @iwantwatermelonrn @marvelxdickinsonmarvelxdickinson @marvelwomen-simp

#sugar mommies #natasha romanoff #carol danvers #wanda maximoff #reader insert #natasha x reader #wanda x reader #carol x reader #natasha x wanda x carol x reader #spiderbites #fanfiction

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michinnyun · 3 years ago

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Can you please do a fic with a Short read with Din 🥺🥺I’m 5’1 and I can never imagine myself being with someone intimately because i feel so short that when I read someone’s fics, of them being held against a wall, that if I were to imagine myself im that scenario that I would be at Din’s chest height 😭😭 smut fluff angst anything u want Ms ma’am but let me tell u the extra cookie points that u will receive if u could make this steamy LOL - Self Esteem

Okay so this took me a while to write because I personally am pretty tall and love to imagine being smaller than my partner, but I don't actually know what that's like as all of my partners have been shorter than me ;-; I wanted to do this request some justice, and I really hope you like it!!!!

Shortcake

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: Guess what. It's steamy

Tags: Size Difference × Size Kink × Short Reader × bounty reader × Hand Jobs × Handcuffs × Injury × Enemies to Lovers

Words: 1k

Ao3 link

You always use your height to your advantage in a fight. People don’t expect a five foot human to be a deadly assassin, but that's where they make their mistake.

What you lack in height you make up for in sheer force of will.

That’s why you’re mildly surprised when the Mandalorian finally manages to capture you, despite your animalistic fighting spirit.

You wriggle in his hold. He gave up on keeping you in binders after you managed to pick them and bolt away.

Then you twisted your ankle. Sad, really. You’d been doing so well up until that point. He caught you again, obviously, and now you're trapped in his embrace while he carries you back to his ship like his pint-sized bride.

“Quit it,” he grumbles when you try kicking into his side with your good foot. “Don't forget, I could just knock you unconscious.”

You pout. “You won't. Harder to carry dead weight.”

He huffs. “It'd be easier to carry the dead weight at this point, with how much you're squirming.”

You smack a kiss into the side of his helmet and pat the cold metal. He swats your hand.

“You love me, shiny. Admit it. You could’ve just tased me, or killed me, or yes, knocked me out cold. But you didn’t,” you sing song. “You don't want to turn me in. This is too much fun.”

For months you've evaded him, striking up a little rapport. You think. It’s hard to tell when he’s so quiet. Like right now.

His ship is not as big on the inside as it looks, and it’s old and rickety. This is especially obvious when the carbonite chamber malfunctions. He pounds a fist on the control panel in frustration.

“Don’t move,” he grumbles, unlatching the paneling and inspecting the wiring.

“Where else would I go?” you say, sitting down on a crate and nursing your swollen ankle.

It takes about five minutes of Mando poking around for you to get bored.

You unbutton your blouse, shedding your vest and empty holsters. Mando managed to confiscate your blasters hours ago before he started chasing you on foot.

“It’s hot in here,” you whine, letting your collar sit open in a tantalizing v.

Mando glances at you, then turns back to his work.

You frown. “Mando. Just forget about the carbonite. I won’t try to escape. I can be good,” you purr, grazing your good foot against his calf.

He stiffens. “I find that hard to believe.”

You pout. “But you’ve seen it. On Canto Bight. Those people were traffickers, Mando. They deserved to be robbed.”

“Doesn’t change the bounty on your head.”

You roll your eyes. “A bounty put out by those same rich, terrible people. Come on, bucket head. Don’t you have a conscience?”

Without realizing it, you’ve been rubbing his ankle with the tip of your boot absentmindedly this entire time. His hand whips out to hold your thigh and stop your movement. Your heart stops.

“Quit it. Shortcake.”

You stare at him before bursting into laughter. “Shortcake? Is that the best you got?”

You grab his wrist and attempt to break out of his hold, but he retaliates quickly. You’re caught in an impromptu fist fight, blocking each other's movements so quickly that you're positive an outsider would hardly be able to register what just happened.

It ends with your unbuttoned shirt gripped in his fists and your legs wrapped around his middle.

“You're insufferable,” he growls, pushing you down until your back is against the crates and he’s caging you in.

You breathe heavily, his hard-on present against your thigh through his flight pants. He’s so big.

“You don’t mean that,” you smirk, reaching down and grasping him where he's hot and needy for you.

He whines, quiet and low, resisting the urge to buck his hips. You do it for him, rolling your body into his until there's no more distance between you, letting him feel how needy he's making you too.

“Fuck,” he groans when you reach into his pants and hold the length of him heavy in your hand, pumping gently and thumbing his slit. A bead of precum catches and you bring it to your mouth, letting him watch you savor it on your tongue. “Fuck.”

“Wanna make a deal?” you ask cheerily, and his head drops into the crook of your shoulder. He’s hunched in on you, hovering over you and making you feel so deliciously small.

“I don't make deals with bounties,” he murmurs, but it sounds broken. Half-hearted.

“First time for everything,” you hum, guiding one of his huge hands to your breast. You shiver at the sound of his heavy breaths, modulated through his vocoder. You wish you could feel them against your skin, against your lips and your chest. As much as you're looking for a way out, you can't help but admit that you're enjoying this, too.

“I could stay on this ship with you,” you murmur, taking his cock in your hand again. “Element of surprise and all that. No one would expect someone like me on your crew. You've seen me, I’m not a bad fighter.”

Mando thrusts into your small hand. “More trouble than it’s worth,” he gasps.

You chuckle. “I like you, Mando. We can both get something nice out of this. Just let yourself go, just this once.”

He mumbles something you can't hear, fucking into the dry grip of your hand like it’s the last barrier between him and heaven.

Pretty soon he’s spurting into your hand, groaning and almost collapsing on top of you. You’re a little surprised at how fast he finished. Maybe he does like you.

Your palm is sticky, and you make a big show of licking it clean for him. He grabs your wrist.

“Dirty,” he growls. You smile, a bright, genuine thing. Oh, he’s going to be fun.

#my fic #star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #pedro pascal #din dijarin fanfiction #request

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salvatoraes-moved · 2 years ago

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i wasn’t gonna say anything about this cause i don’t feel like i owe any explanations but it keeps coming back to my lil brain so… yes, i do indeed have an “ eye candy ” tag. & just because i have one, doesn’t mean i’m “ face chasing ” or only following people for their face claims. it’s literally 2023, who still follows people because of faceclaims ?

now, of course i have my favorites, who doesn’t ? if you say you don’t, you’re a liar who lies. but i literally don’t care who your face claim is. actually, a majority of people i write with don’t use icons / gifs at all, so it’s not like i’d even be seeing them most of the time. also, a lot of people use aesthetic dash icons that don’t have their faceclaim even in it, so you literally can’t tell unless you look on their blog. & personally, i follow people who i can see myself writing with and most of the time i follow people before i can even see who their faceclaim is.

my “ eye candy ” tag is me reblogging people who stefan or myself find attractive as well as faces / muses i don’t have a specific tag for. i want to keep track in case i forget a face i may want to use in the future or if someone wants suggestions for a muse i can say oh here’s a tag you can browse or whatever. honestly, who’s gonna sit there & tag every single face they come across that they like / want to write / write against ? or every single ship partners faceclaim ? let me know,. also, what’s wrong with having a tag of desired faceclaims or wanted opposites ? victoria justice voice : we ALL have preferences. ( and that’s okay ) & it does NOT mean i or anyone else who has said tags won’t write with someone just because they you don’t use a faceclaim we have a preference for.

it’s not a huge deal & i’m not going to stop using my tag. however, if you for real have a problem with it, let me know & i can always make tag you can block list or you can soft block. while i think it’s a silly thing to stop writing with people over, everyone does deserve to feel comfortable. i just had to get my own two cents in on this because someone recently vauged about this and it was specially directed at me so i wanted to say my side. sorry if this is messy, or repetitive, it’s 1:30 am.

#rant /#negative /#vague /#not really vague but just in case #𝑽. * 。⁎ 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐎'𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐑'𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐂𝐔𝐁𝐄. 、out of character.#long post /

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babyboibucky · 4 years ago

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Promises, promises

Pairing: AU!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You believed that promises are meant to be broken but Bucky always proved you wrong. Until one day, he proved you right.

Word Count: 6,555 (oops I got carried away lol)

Warnings: Angst, a tiny bit of self-doubt but with a happy ending!!!

A/N: Some tags aren’t working, damn u tumblr! Anyway enjoy the angst and the shitty writing lmfao. Also kinda want to do ficlets for these two??? Like short fics about the happenings in their relationship, their first date, how they dealt with the break up idk, lemme know if anyone’s interested in that xoxo

MAIN MASTERLIST

It's been four and a half years since Bucky broke up with you and honestly, you're fine now. Fine, as in you've moved on from him and that you haven't been stalking his Instagram account anymore or have been asking Steve how he's doing since the break up. You're fine now, really.

There was not an ounce of denial left in your body after almost two years of pining and self-blame. But that doesn't mean you've forgotten the pain he caused you when he woke up one day and realized that he didn't need you anymore.

Forgive and forget they often told you and you badly wanted to do so. But it wasn't that easy to do, not when you still feel the pain as if it only happened yesterday.

"What did you say?" your forehead creased as you walked around the kitchen counter, quickly approaching Bucky who had his back to you as he stood in the living room of your shared apartment.

You weren't sure if you heard him right, or if he actually said anything. Perhaps you were just hearing things? Just this morning he woke up and greeted you with his charming smile before pressing a soft peck on your lips. You had cooked breakfast together, laughed together and even talked about what to have for dinner.

Sure, something about his demeanor earlier was a bit off, but you assumed it had something to do about his work and not because he wanted to break up with you.

Right?

"Bucky, what did you say?" you pressed when Bucky remained quiet; he didn't even turn around to face you.

He heaved out a deep sigh, "I said I need space." he murmured.

"What do you mean, Buck?" you asked again, voice small and shaky as you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

Of course you knew what exactly Bucky meant by that, but you didn't want to believe it. You were hopeful that maybe this was one of those petty fights you used to have, one where Bucky would spend the night over at Steve's. He'll come around the next day, he always does that. You always woke up to him whispering apologies to your ear and you would say your sorry too.

Bucky rubbed his face with his hand before finally turning to you, "I can't do this anymore." he said, shaking his head before averting his gaze to the floor.

He must have seen the look in your eyes when he faced you. As much as you believed that you were pretty good at hiding your emotions, it never worked on Bucky. He was the only person who could always read you; you could never hide from him.

"Bucky, I don't understand." you let out a nervous chuckle as you hugged yourself, biting your lower lip to prevent them from quivering as you held back the urge to cry.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, "I just...you've been too...fuck, I don't know how to say this without hurting you. I really don't want to." he admitted dejectedly, looking up at you.

You scoffed, "Just fucking say it, Bucky. I'm already hurt just by having this conversation." you told him.

"You're too good for me. Way too good."

Bucky’s words echoed in your mind again as you laid your eyes on him, four and a half years after your break-up. And just like that, you were back to square one.

You did your best to avoid him after he left, you felt like Bucky too tried to do the same. It was harder than you thought, given that you belonged to the same circle of friends. There were missed birthday parties, anniversaries and get togethers. If you knew Bucky was going to be there, you’d bail. Thank god you had a bunch of understanding friends who never took your absences against you.

But an engagement party between two of your friends? Now that was something you wouldn’t want to miss out on.

You’ve been really happy for quite a while now, to the point that it never crossed your mind that Bucky would surely be attending as well. He had been out of your system since the day you decided to move past him, which is why you thought that you were finally a-okay.

Tonight proved you wrong because as you watched Bucky smile and greet your friends, you realized that you still wanted to punch him and hurt him and tell him that you were still in lo—

“Hi.”

You were too focused on daydreaming about how you wanted to hurt Bucky that you failed to notice that he made his way to you and was now waiting for you to greet him back.

Bucky was smiling at you the same way he did on the night you first met at a college house party. You and Bucky have been together for that long.

“Hi.”

The music was too loud that you missed out on the stranger’s greeting, if not for his shadow looming over your hunched figure as you sat on the staircase, you would’ve completely ignored him.

The guy was looking down at you with a charming smile that made your cheeks turn pink. He was tall and slightly muscular, something you noticed right off the bat all thanks to the tight red henley he was sporting. The guy had long hair too, but it was tied back into a low man bun that was messy enough to leave tendrils of stray hair to frame his handsome face.

“Hi.” He repeated with a chuckle, a hint of amusement laced in his tone as he bit his lip at the sight of you just staring up at him.

“Hi?” You stammered awkwardly.

He laughed, “Um, can I pass through or is there some sort of password required?”

You realized that you had been blocking his way, everyone’s way actually. Quickly, you apologized and stood up to leave your spot only for the guy to block your way before you could even hop off of the last step of the staircase.

Thinking that you must have confused him and the direction you intended to go, you murmured a soft apology again before sidestepping him but to no avail. You looked up at him with a frown when you noticed that he was intentionally blocking your way.

It didn’t help that he was way taller than you. Despite the one being on the last step of the staircase, the guy still loomed over you.

“Excuse me?” You snapped and tried to move past him but he was way bigger than you and managed to stop you from passing through.

He had a cheeky smile on as he watched your futile attempt to squeeze your way out of his large body. You huffed out when he held onto the rail while his other hand on the wall, completely trapping you on the staircase.

“What’s the password?” He asked, still grinning at you.

You deadpanned, “Are you kidding me?”

He shook his head, “Nope.”

You stared at him blankly before glancing at his hands, observing whether you had a chance at prying them away from where they held on. It was then that you noticed how his left hand was covered in tattoos. The sleeve of his henley rode up quite a bit to reveal that his tattoos reached his wrist, he probably had his entire left arm sleeved with ink.

“Can I please pass?” You huffed out when you concluded that there was no way you would be able to escape him.

“Like I said, I need a password.” He insisted.

“Penis.” You stated, face free from any sort of expression.

The guy choked on his laughter, “Why would you honestly think that?” He asked incredulously.

You shrugged, “I thought you guys liked dick jokes.” You reasoned out.

The guy laughed as he shook his head, “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“It’s not the password?” You asked. “Don’t I get a hint or something, I really don’t have time for games right now. I have to go back to my dorm. I have a test tomorrow.” You told the guy.

“I can’t believe you’re thinking about a test. What’s your major anyway?” He asked.

You groaned, “Like I said, I don’t have time for games or even for a conversation. Come on, just let me pass through!”

The guy hummed as he stared at you, as if he was thinking of something. You wanted to look away but he had beautiful ocean blue eyes that you found yourself slowly getting lost in.

“I’ll give you hints.” He announced. “Two hints actually, because I’m feeling generous.”

“Okay, then. Just spit it out!” You rushed.

The guy grinned.

“The password is made up of your name followed by your number.”

“Hi.”

You blinked when Bucky repeated his greeting. When you regained your senses, you cleared your throat and simply nodded at him as acknowledgment. You saw how Bucky’s smile faltered seconds before you looked away and pretended to look for someone.

“I can’t believe you just brushed me off.” He chuckled, running his fingers through his hair.

Bucky had cut off his hair right after graduation. He sported a clean cut since then but now he had longer locks; not as long as his college hair though. It just looked fluffier, you fought the urge to imagine how it’d feel through your fingers.

“I can’t believe you just expected me to greet you as if nothing happened.” You told him, letting your eyes wander around the place.

Bucky exhaled heavily and shook his head, “I thought we’d be okay by now.” He admitted. “Guess I was wrong.”

You clicked your tongue in irritation, snapping your head into his direction after avoiding his gaze earlier. “I am okay, but that doesn’t mean I am okay with being around you.” You hissed.

“I honestly thought we’d still be friends, you know. Civil at least.”

What has gotten into Bucky’s mind for him to expect a lovely reunion between the both of you? Things didn’t end well, he just left. He was too ambitious to even think that you’d greet him with rainbows and butterflies.

“We’re not friends, Bucky. Not even acquaintances.” You told him.

Bucky opened his mouth to say something until someone tapped on the mic, announcing that the newly engaged couple, Wanda and Vis, had something to say to their guests. By the time he looked back at you, you had already walked away and joined Nat at their table.

It reminded Bucky of the days when he used to watch your back retreat into your dorm whenever he walked you home.

“So, you gonna tell me the password or what?”

You felt all your blood rush to your head and you’ve never been thankful for existence of strobe lights. You were probably red as a tomato. Who wouldn’t be anyway? This handsome dude just asked for your name and number!

“Is this a joke?” You managed to asked and thanked the heavens that you didn’t stutter.

The guy shook his head, “I don’t really joke around.” He shrugged.

“Why do you even want to know my name and number?” you curiously asked.

Bucky shrugged, “Been watching you since you arrived.”

“Creeper.” you accused.

“Hard not to when you’re the only grumpy person in a party. I know your friends dragged you here, I mean you said you have a test tomorrow and you don’t seem the type to party a day before. Besides, you’ve been keeping to yourself the entire time. Figured you might want some company, one with substance.” he boastfully wiggled his eyebrows at you.

His confidence appalled you but you were also surprised at how he seemed to have read your mind. Or personality, in general.

“Hey, Bucky!”

You watched the guy turn his head towards front door where a blonde guy— Steve from the student council, you recognized— entered. You thought it’d give you a chance to slip away but the guy, well Bucky, kept his hands in place.

“Kinda busy right now, pal. I’ll catch up with you later.” He said.

Steve’s gaze moved past Bucky until they landed on you. He chuckled as he shook his head at his friend’s antics. Steve walked away but not without acknowledging you.

“He may not seem like it, but Bucky’s a good guy. You can take my word for it.”

Bucky turned to you and lifted an eyebrow, “I mean, coming from a student council member, that’s a pretty credible source.” He said confidently.

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. You had to admit, Bucky had a way with words and actions. His boyish charm was working on you and you hated how easily you were falling for it. And you just met the guy like ten minutes ago!

“So, what’s the password?” Bucky asked again.

You tapped your foot as you crossed your arms over your chest, “You promise to let me go if I tell you?”

Bucky made a face, “I don’t think that’s the right term because you can expect more of me once you give me the password. But I’ll definitely step aside. That’s a promise.” He reassured.

“Promises are meant to be broken.” You stated.

“Yeah, well watch me prove you wrong. Password? Pretty please?” He asked cutely and fuck, Bucky was really winning you over just like that.

Letting out a defeated sigh, you tell him your name and number. Just as he promised, Bucky stepped aside and quickly fished out his phone to type in your number. You honestly didn’t expect for him to remember it after hearing it once, but you peeked and he actually did. Impressive.

“Like I promised, off you go to study.” He said and motioned his arm towards the front door.

You sighed and offered a small smile before finally walking past him. You were about to open the front door when Bucky beat you to it.

“I told you ‘let go’ is the wrong term ‘cause I’m walking you home tonight.” Bucky said. “And tomorrow night too. And the next night and the next next night. Or afternoon. Morning? Whatever time your classes finish.”

Bucky really proved you wrong that night because he did walk you home the next night and the next next night too. It went on until he no longer had to watch you enter your dorm or apartment because eventually, the two of you ended up going to the same home.

It’s very ironic really, that it was also Bucky who failed to prove you wrong when he broke his promise not to hurt you, ever. You wondered whether it was your fault that you actually believed in him. It was hard not to though, because Bucky’s earned your trust from all the promises he made and kept.

Which is why it was even more painful when one day, he decided to break the one promise you truly held on to.

“I’ll always love you, you know that right?”

Bucky blurted it out randomly that his statement confused the hell out of you. The two of you were just playing a video game when he said it, making you hit pause.

“And where did that come from?” You asked with amusement.

Bucky frowned, “You could’ve reacted differently. I was hoping for a high-pitched ‘awwww!’ and this is what I get?” He teased, taking your chin in between his index finger and thumb to pull you close so he could bite your nose playfully.

“You said it out of the blue!” You told him with a laugh. “But it made me happy though.” You admitted and kissed his cheek.

“Yeah, well it’s true. I mean, this thing we got? It’s forever.” Bucky said and lovingly smiled at you.

You pretended to gag at his words but it was obvious that you felt like you were on cloud nine when Bucky said that. “Cheeseballs!” You teased.

“This cheeseball’s gonna put a ring on that finger one day. That’s a promise!”

A finger snapped right in front of your face, “You good?” Nat asked.

You nodded and tried your hardest not to look at Bucky. He was seated with Steve, Sam and some other guys at the table next to yours. You could feel him staring at you and it was making you anxious. Nat and Sharon exchanged looks before letting out a sigh in unison.

“Come on, I’m fine. Stop looking at me like that!” You told them with a forced chuckle.

“What did Bucky say?” Sharon asked. She’d seen Bucky approach you upon his arrival, saw the expressions you both had as you talked and knew immediately that it didn’t go well.

Nat hummed before taking a quick sip from her glass of wine, “We’ve been watching and we’re curious.”

“He was expecting for us to be friends.” You simply stated.

Nat and Sharon groaned and rolled their eyes, “What a dick.” Nat said.

“Men really do have the audacity.” Sharon laughed and shook her head.

You joined her laughter and lifted up your own glass of wine, “I’ll drink to that.” You said before finishing your drink in one go.

One glass of wine turned into two and then three and then four. Six drinks later and you were buzzed and unstoppable. You weren’t that drunk, you were good at handling alcohol but you were tipsy for sure. The formalities of the engagement party were finally done and the guests were left to mingle around.

Wanda and Vis immediately went to your table to catch up and after giving them your heartfelt congratulations (and apologies for missing out on plenty of events), you decided to step out of the venue to get some fresh air.

The silence allowed you to process your thoughts, the same thoughts you had repressed for years. You were happy for Wanda and Vis, truly. The two have been the epitome of soulmates and it was only right for them to end up tying the knot. But you also couldn’t help but wonder, would you and Bucky end up in marriage too had he decided to stay and work things out with you?

You lift up your left hand and stared at your bare ring finger. Just a few years ago, you’d been wearing a simple gold band studded with tiny diamonds around it— a promise ring. Bucky had given it as a gift on your 6th anniversary. You’d gotten together when you were just 19 and Bucky 21. People always doubted that your relationship with him wouldn’t last long given that the two of you were so different. Not to mention, Bucky had a reputation. Girls fawned over him; he was tall and handsome, had a rugged appeal to him thanks to his long hair and tattooed left arm. He drove a damn motorcycle that got him into trouble plenty of times.

You were Miss Goody Two Shoes who played it safe and Bucky was the Big Bad Wolf who liked taking risks.

It was a surprise when your relationship with him kept on progressing and the next thing you knew, the both of you have been together for a total of eight long years. It would’ve reached nine but shit happened and Bucky decided that those eight years didn’t matter to him anymore.

“Can we talk?”

If Bucky asked you that a couple of years ago, you would’ve probably punched him in the face and kneed him at the crotch before running away. Well, you still wanted to do so but a part of you wanted to talk things out. Get a proper closure maybe since Bucky failed to give you a detailed explanation that would help you understand why he chose to leave you.

Nat told you once that some things are better left unsaid. You spent years secretly pining for Bucky after the break up, spent nights questioning yourself where you lacked that made him leave you. You’d asked Steve about Bucky whether he met someone knew or how he was dealing with the break up; it did you more damage than good until you finally gave up and decided to actually move on.

But now that Bucky was here and there was no way to avoid him, maybe you deserved this confrontation after all.

“What do you want to talk about?” You asked, keeping your eyes on the pavement right in front of you.

You felt Bucky stand beside you, placing his hands inside the pockets of his jeans before turning to you, “About us.”

You snickered, “Us? What about us? What is there to talk about us?” You asked, turning your head to face him.

Bucky’s eyes have always been your favorite feature of his. They were very expressive and if Bucky could see through you every damn time, it was his eyes that you could always read. They were still blue but they held a certain emotion in them as he gazed at you.

Sadness and...regret?

Before your assumptions could get the best of you, you turned away and waited for Bucky to speak again.

“I can’t keep on avoiding you.” He said. “I’ve been doing so for the past few years and it kills me.” He admitted.

“And you think I want to keep doing this too? I’ve missed out on so many occasions because I just couldn’t be around you. You’re not the only one struggling.” You said.

Bucky shrugged, “Then let’s stop avoiding each other.”

The way he suggested it almost offended you; he was so nonchalant about it as if it was so easy to just let him waltz back into your life. Truth was, you dreamt of the day that he’d come crawling back to you. But you knew better than to let your walls down just because you miss him.

“When Steve told me that you seemed to be doing well, I really thought it meant that we can become friendly with each other, y’now. I mean, eight years. Those years meant so much to me, we’ve been through a lot and—“

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Barnes?!” You bitterly chuckled.

“If those eight years together really meant a lot to you, you would’ve stayed. You would’ve allowed me to work it out with you! But what, you broke up with me because you thought I was too good for you? That you felt suffocated just because I was looking out for you?”

You didn’t mean to snap at Bucky like that, in your mind you thought you would be able to have a calm conversation with him. But with the alcohol running through your body, you couldn’t stop yourself from expressing yourself and and feeling the same way you did on that specific night.

“Too good? How am I too good for you, Buck?” You asked, immediately wiping off the tears that escaped your eyes.

“You have everything planned out! For yourself, for us. And it makes me feel fucking useless! I see you work your way up at your job and I’m still figuring out what the hell I want to do with my life!” He exclaimed.

You shook your head, “I didn’t know you felt that way.” You whispered. “If you told me this then I could’ve done something about it, Buck! Rather than let it get this far, I would’ve fixed it.” You told him and tried to reach out but Bucky took a step back.

“That too! You’re a fixer! You always end up fixing things. This relationship has become an endless cycle of me fucking up things and you picking up the pieces. And every single time you clean my mess, I feel like you’re hoping I’d be like the others. It’s like you’re trying to make me into a person I’m not just so I could fit this, this certain mold you had in mind!” He accused you.

You wiped again your tears and refused to believe him, “That’s not true, Bucky! I’ve always loved you for who you are, I never asked you to change for me!”

“Yes, you do! You never said it but I always felt it...when Steve got promoted and when Sam finally launched his business. You always wanted me to be like them, you never said it out loud but that’s what you made me feel whenever we talk about my job...or lack thereof.” He chuckled bitterly.

Bucky may not be traditional in the sense that he considered himself an artist. He never liked the idea of settling for a nine to five desk job so he took on a job as a tattoo artist. It wasn’t a permanent job and he didn’t have clients demanding for him all the time so it gave him time to work for a motorcycle shop too.

It was never a problem for you but practically speaking, your and Bucky’s joint savings wouldn’t be enough for the future that the both of you have planned out.

“I’ve been supportive of you! I never asked you to give up on those jobs, Bucky.” You defended yourself.

Bucky nodded his head, “You don’t know it but you do. That’s how I felt whenever you suggested that I try something else.”

“It’s because I know you can do so much more! Stay at the tattoo parlor and mechanic shop, then fine! But don’t settle because you have the potential to make it out there, that’s what I want you to know! I don’t understand why you’re limiting yourself, Buck. Why you’re suddenly so afraid.”

You carefully took a step closer to Bucky and thank god he let you this time. You swallowed the lump in your throat and reached out to cup his face in your hand. Bucky was livid, his chest rising heavily with every breath he took.

“You were the one who taught me to be brave, to take risks. I used to be so afraid, remember? Afraid to ride your motorcycle, to try out that job I thought I couldn’t handle. I was so scared to commit,” you chuckled, remembering how much you hesitated to give Bucky a chance when he asked you to be officially his girlfriend.

“...but you’ve always been there for me. And I want to do the same with you. I know that it seems scary to let go of what you believe is your calling. You don’t have to let go of it, Buck. But you gotta try something new too.” You said as you let your thumb caress the skin beneath his eyes.

There was silence between the two of you. Bucky had calmed down and you thought that it was over. Little did you know that it was simply the calm before the storm. Because the words that came out of Bucky’s mouth were the words you didn’t expect to hear.

“Well, this is me trying something new.”

Bucky refused to meet your gaze and simply let your hand move away from his face. You shook your head no as you turned around to compose yourself.

“We were fine this morning, Buck. What happened?” You asked and embraced yourself, seeking comfort you knew you’d only get if Bucky changed his mind.

“I thought we were fine too. But the tattoo parlor is closing in a month and we haven’t been getting plenty of clients at the motorcycle shop. And it just hit me y’now, I dread coming home to you because I know you’d be disappointed and that again, you’d offer to fix my shit and the thing is, I don’t want you to. I don’t want you to fix my shit or tell me how to deal with my problems! I woke up and realized that I just don’t...” Bucky paused when you swiftly turned around with a frown, eyes brimming with a fresh new wave of tears.

“Don’t say it, Bucky. I’ll be better, I promise! I won’t nag you or pressure you into anything. Just please, don’t say it. Please don’t. We can still work this out.” You begged Bucky.

You weren’t sure you could take it, what he wanted to say. You already knew what he was going to tell you, you didn’t want to hear it. Let other people say it but god, it’d break you if you heard it from him.

“I’m sorry but I don’t need you anymore.”

The stabbing pain in your heart felt so familiar, the kind that punched all the air out of your lungs. You thought you were done crying over Bucky, but you were so wrong.

“I fucked up.” Bucky huffed out, bowing his head as if ashamed.

“You realized that just now?” You snickered. “Do you know how long it took for me to get over you? To forget the pain from hearing you tell me that you don’t need me anymore? After eight years together, Buck. You were my first everything and you gave up on us. And you really expected us to be friends, just like that?!” You spat.

“I’m sorry!” Bucky exclaimed, lifting his head to look up at you and you were surprised that his eyes were glazed with tears.

“I was wrong, I was so fucking wrong. Because you were right, I shouldn’t have settled then. But god I was an idiot, an insecure idiot.” He admitted.

“I was so used to being the one who guided you that it fucking hurt my ego when I noticed that you were becoming your own person outside of our relationship. I was supposed to be the one supporting you, pushing you to be better. You ended being the one leading me. I let my ego get the best of me and thought I’d be better off without you. But it was the biggest mistake of my life because when I left, I felt even more lost.” Bucky explained.

You were left speechless, you weren’t sure why Bucky was telling you all this. Did he want you back or was he simply apologizing? You didn’t have words so you remained quiet and waited to see whether Bucky had more to say.

“I’m so sorry, I really am. I hurt you. I should’ve stayed, should’ve worked with you to fix our relationship. I hate what we’ve become, I sincerely wanted us to be civil with each other at least.” He said.

“Bucky, you’ve been saying the same thing over and over again. I’m not sure you understand the situation. I can’t be friends with you. Not after what happened. I thought I was fine but now I realized that I’ve never really moved on from the pain you caused me.” You told him and sniffed, looking back to check whether your friends could see you.

Thankfully, all the guests were still busy mingling with each other. It’s as if the universe meant for this confrontation to happen. But now you weren’t sure what to do after you finally got a clear explanation from Bucky.

“I wanted a fresh start with you.” Bucky said. “Thought that it would make it easier for me to win you over if we were friends again.”

You scoffed in disbelief, “It’s not that easy, Buck. I can’t just let you walk back into my life after your apology. It doesn’t work that way.”

You tried to move past him but he immediately blocked your way, “When I said I’ll always love you, I meant it. I still do. I want to make things right, please. Give me one last chance to fix this.”

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, maybe it was Bucky’s words and how sincere he sounded that made your head spin. Your heart was racing and your palms turned cold. You wanted him back too, so bad but you weren’t sure if it was a good idea. He broke your heart and your trust, you weren’t sure if you’d survive if he left you again.

“I can’t continue this conversation, Bucky. I have to go.” You told him and made your way towards the door to the venue.

However, Bucky was quick to stand in front of the door. He had a determined look on his face, one that looked extremely familiar. You were still hurt but couldn’t deny the fact that you too, still love him.

Even after everything that had happened, Bucky still owned your heart.

“Bucky, can you please move? I want to go home.” You said and tried to reach for the door knob but Bucky moved and leaned against the door.

“You need a password to get through.”

You rolled your eyes, “We’re way too old for this, Bucky. I’m not playing with you.”

He shook his head, “I’m not playing either. Give me the password or else we’d be here the entire night.”

You huffed out, “This isn’t funny. Let me through.”

Bucky shrugged, “No can do. Like I said, I can do this all night.”

You deadpanned, “What’s the hint?” You asked with a defeated sigh, knowing well enough that there was no way you could walk past him without playing along with his stupid little game.

“Consists of three words.” Bucky said.

“Penis boobs vagina.”

Bucky cackled, “And I thought you said we’re too old for this.”

You groaned, “I’m serious, Bucky. Just let me go.”

“No. I made that mistake once and I’m not doing that again. I love you. And I promise that this time, it’ll be different. I know you still love me too, so again I am asking you to take a risk and say it.”

Bucky said it with conviction and you hated how it made your stomach flip. Up until this day, Bucky had a way to make you fold. And he could still read you.

“I’m not saying it, Bucky. How sure are you that I still feel the same anyway?” you asked.

Bucky tipped his head towards your neck, “Not sure if you just forgot but you’re wearing the promise ring as a necklace.”

Fuck. Of course, you’d forgotten about it. You may not have been wearing it on your finger, but you still continued to wear it. It meant a lot to you even after the break up, so much so that you couldn’t simply throw it away or remove it. You figured that it might be better to keep it around your neck. Out of sight, out of mind but still there. You wanted it to exist, it was a part of you.

“Say it and I promise that you won’t regret it.” Bucky insisted.

“Promises are meant to be broken. You proved that the night you broke up with me.” Your voice quivered when you said that.

“And I want to make it up for it for the rest of my life.” He reassured.

“History repeats itself. I don’t think I can deal with it again if you realized the second time around that you don’t need me. Buck, you really hurt me.” You said, voice cracking before you could even finish your sentence.

Bucky quickly took your face in between his hands and for some reason, it felt right. The warmth of his palm, the love in his eyes as he gazed at you, it felt like home.

“I know and I hate myself for it. So fucking much. But I promise you, it wouldn’t happen again. I fixed my life when you left, realized that you were right. I’m better now. So let me be the fixer this time, let me be the one to fix this mess, to pick up the pieces. Because I’m just as afraid to let you go again. I can’t do that again. I love you and I need you. I always did.”

The kiss he pressed on your forehead caused your walls to crumble down. All of a sudden you were sobbing into his arms and apologizing.

“I didn’t mean to pressure you then, Buck. I didn’t know, I’m sorry too.” You cried.

“Shh, no. Please don’t apologize.” Bucky coaxed as he pulled back to kiss your tears away. “None of this was your fault, baby. It’s all on me. Let me make it up to you, please?”

The term of endearment made your heart flutter and as much as you hated how Bucky easily won you over, again, the love you have for him was quick to outweigh it. You knew you shouldn’t have given in to him just like that, but this was Bucky. He was your greatest love, someone who owned your heart even after he left.

“I miss you, baby. Couldn’t fathom the thought of you being with someone else.” Bucky admitted as he hugged you tightly.

“I was so stupid, so fucking stupid. I hated myself for hurting you. I won’t do it again, I swear.”

His hand rubbed circles against your back, helping you calm down after your breakdown. He swayed you from side to side, pressed kisses on your crown and whispered promises that he was sure he was going to keep and you basked in it. When you finally calmed down, you pressed your face into Bucky’s neck and inhaled his scent.

He smelled the same, like comfort and love and trust. You hugged him tighter and smiled into his skin and mumbled, “I love you.”

Bucky chuckled, “You got the password right but I don’t think I’m letting you go just yet.”

“Nat and Sharon’s gonna kick our asses if they find out.” You chuckled.

He pulled back and stared at you lovingly, “I’ll take the hit for you.” he laughed.

“I’m sorry.” he mumbled again, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“Forgiven.” You told him and stood on your tiptoes until Bucky bent down to meet your lips in a kiss.

You sighed into the kiss. Four and a half years of pain and anger all gone and replaced with the love you always had for Bucky. His lips against yours made you dizzy but in a good way.

It felt right, like this was how things were really supposed to be.

You pulled back and sighed, “As much as I want to stay like this, I’m really tired.”

Bucky let you go but took your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I’m driving you home tonight.” He said.

You smiled.

“And the next night. And the next next night.”

Yet again, Bucky proved himself to be worthy of another chance. Because he drove you home the next night, and the next next night. It went on until he regained your trust back and all was well enough for him to finally reveal the black velvet box that he had been keeping in his pocket since the night of your eventful reunion.

“You need a password to see what’s inside.” Bucky grinned up at you as he bent down on one knee.

You chuckled through your years, “Any hint?”

“One word, three letters.”

You wiped away your tears with a smile followed by a subtle nod.

“Yes.”

Bucky kept his promise all along, he really did put a ring on your finger. Took quite a while with plenty of obstacles that caused its delay, but a promise fulfilled nonetheless.

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#bbbwrites #oneshots: bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #sebastian stan

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mermaidxatxheart · 4 years ago

Text

Better Together Chapter Eight

Here's Chapter 8, y'all. My work is not to be posted on any other site. If you'd like to be added to my tag list, send me an ask.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: language, violence, descriptions of torture.

Series Master List

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

You climb down from the tower, trying to dry your eyes. You dust your hands off and head for the lab. You don’t want to study these stupid flowers, you just want to forget that whole stupid fucking planet. Your eyes won’t stop watering, your throat thick and painful as you try not to burst into tears again.

You round a corner, glancing behind you as you wipe your eyes again. The skin around them is starting to feel raw as you rub them endlessly. There’s something in the middle of the walkway that shouldn’t be there. You turn back to look at what you’ve walked into, stumbling back as fingers wrap around your shoulders.

“Y/N,” Poe breathes, eyes fluttering closed.

Oh, Maker. Your lower lip trembles as you look at his beautiful face, the rejection from earlier swirling up and stifling you. Your eyebrows pinch against your will, eyes starting to squint as the tears threaten to overtake you. Fighting for control, you struggle to smooth out your forehead, but no matter how hard you try, it won’t relax. You inhale sharply through your nose and his eyes fly open.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He mumbles, pulling you in for a hug. It hurts, feeling him care about you this way. You don’t hug him back, keeping your arms rigid by your sides. If you let yourself give in, it will only make things harder. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.” He whispers, burying his face in your neck. “I didn’t mean… this morning…” he takes a shuddering breath. “Please? Just… pl-please.” He hugs you tighter, his voice breaking.

“Poe,”

“Don’t you think I want… if I let myself ki-“ he cuts off audibly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He whispers.

“What do you want from me?” You ask, but it comes out colder than you mean it to.

“Forgive me? You have to know I would do anything for you. Anything you ask of me.”

“You didn’t do anything that needs to be forgiven.” You say softly, your arms curling around his back, your willpower crumbling.

“In my room-“ he starts.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.” You sigh, turning your face into his neck. “Moment of weakness. Will you forgive me?” You ask.

His soft lips press into your neck and you shiver at the unexpected touch. “Nothing to forgive.” He murmurs, lifting his head up to trail up your neck. Your heart thrums erratically in your chest as his lips brush your jawline. “Please tell me you haven’t been crying all day because I’m an asshole.”

“No.” You say, barely more than a whisper. It’s all you can manage as his lips trail up your cheek. “I finished my report for Leia.” You say and he tenses. “Poe? I know… I know I don’t deserve it, but can we talk about the river?” You ask quietly.

“I liked the river.” He mumbles against your cheek. You desperately want to turn your head, to catch his lips with yours. Maker, you feel like you’re on an emotional rollercoaster, high then low, upside down, then backwards.

“I meant what happened in the river.” You correct.

“Liked that, too.” That earns a weak chuckle.

“You shouldn’t have.” You mumble.

“Y/N,” he groans, guiding you against the wall. He brushes his thumb along your jaw. “What’s bothering you? Tell me. You have so much that you’re not saying and it just breaks my heart.”

Your holopad beeps and you close your eyes. “I have to get to the lab.” You twist your face away.

“I have literally nothing else to do. We can talk on the way.” He says, taking your hand.

“You don’t have to.” You look at him suspiciously. “Why send poor Snap to my room earlier?” You ask and he tips his head back, laughing.

“For funsies.”

“Pando? What the hell was that about?” You ask, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Lando Calrissian. You mentioned he was an inspiration of yours to become a pilot. I figured you would get the reference. Poe, Lando, we’re both pilots.” He shrugs and you roll your eyes.

“I mentioned Calrissian once, five years ago. I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“I remember everything.” He promises. “How was your caf?” He hints.

“Better than the one Bryce brought me. Thank you. And for the food.” You add and he beams, lifting your hands to trace your cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“Of course.” He looks at you before facing straight and keeping his lips pressed together.

“You might as well say it. You have a terrible sabaacc face.” You sigh, pulling him into the lab.

“I don’t like him. He’s been dating you for three years and still doesn’t know how you like your caf. It’s not hard. He’s a jerk. And I hate that he kept me from the med bay so I couldn’t see you. I hate that he acts like he owns you.” He picks up your protective lab coat and helps you slide your arms in. You wince in pain but quickly compose your face so he won’t see.

“Anything else?” You look up at him.

“Only a million other things.” He sighs, leaning against your lab bench.

“Tell me.” You say, catching his hand.

He lifts your hand to his mouth, lips parting slightly as he flutters his eyes shut. He inhales deeply, lips moving silently against the back of it.

“Didn’t catch that.”

“This is so fucked up to say, but I’m so proud of you.” He says. “When we were taken, you were incredible. I never should have put you in that position, but you didn’t say anything, not to save me, not to save yourself and, Maker, I’m so fucking proud of you. I didn’t know if I was going to be able to hold out when he started hurting you, but the fact that you weren’t breaking gave me strength.” He bows his head, clinging to your hand. “And I hate the fact that you think we went through all that because of you. None of it, none, was your fault.” He sighs, lifting his eyes to your face. “In fact, if it wasn’t morally the exact wrong thing to do, I would kiss you again in a heartbeat. Over and over. But you’re a good person and that wouldn’t be fair to you.” He murmurs softly.

“Poe,” you plead. It’s all you want, to kiss him.

“I know. I shouldn’t want that. You’re not mine to want that with, but I just… it’s in my head now. How good you taste, how soft your lips are.” He squeezes his eyes shut, cutting off his words and you squeak. You try to get your hands free, you want them in his hair, holding him to you.

“Poe, please!” You struggle and he drops your hands, hurt written all over his face.

“Okay.” He turns to leave and you grab his arm, pulling him back. You cling to his face, pulling his lips against yours. His hands grip your waist and you exhale in a rush. A massive weight is lifted off your shoulders as you kiss him, hold him. His lips part under yours and you moan low in the back of your throat. He clings to you, crushing you against him like he can’t get close enough.

Maker, you could stay like this forever.

He backs you into the lab bench, fingers pressing into your hips and you rock into him, starving. The door hisses open and he jerks back, spinning around and walking away a few steps.

Nya walks around the corner and looks up to see you fiddling with your holopad. Having barely recovered your wits, you grabbed the first thing your hands landed on.

“Y/N.” She greets with a smile. It’s fake and you want to slap her, but you just tighten your grip on your holopad instead.

“Nya. What are you doing here?” You ask, trying for polite at least and failing horribly. Poe smirks at you over the shelf he’s studying.

“Looking for you, actually.” She says, heading over and you internally groan.

“What did I do?” You ask and she laughs lightly.

“Nothing yet.” She promises. “Your plants are in bin Cin17.” She says, handing over the packet she’s holding.

“Oh. Thanks.”

She smiles at you and turns to walk away. You glance at Poe and he shrugs, coming back over. “That was odd.” He comments.

“Odd? That’s literally the nicest she’s ever been to me.” You sigh, turning back to your bench.

“I wonder why.”

“Maybe she wants something? Maybe she saw my outright panic attack in the dining hall and is getting off on my suffering.” You sigh.

“Or. On a slightly less negative note. Maybe she missed you? Maybe she realized she’s in love with you and now she wants to make it right and have babies with you.” He says and by the end, you’re laughing much harder than you should be. You double over, grasping your knees, your entire midsection aching for various reasons.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me rip my stitches.” You gasp.

“It wasn’t that funny.” He mumbles.

“Oh man, you’re a funny guy, Dameron.” You pant, standing up and wiping your forehead.

“Thanks.” He mutters dryly. “May I ask what, exactly, was so funny about that?”

“Nya. Liking me? She’s so into dick, it’s all she talks about sometimes. Everyone who has one is in her sights. Especially you, Commander. And then babies with me? Come on. Get serious.”

“Just her? Or anyone in general is unbelievable?” He asks, an odd, stiff texture to his voice.

“I dunno. Anyone? I never really thought I’d make a good mom.” You shrug, heading for the containers now that you’re back under control.

“Really? I do.” He says and your face heats.

“Moot point at the moment. Bryce doesn’t want kids.” You say and he groans.

“Just when I think…” he rubs his face. “I gotta go. I’ll see you later.” He mumbles, swiftly heading for the door.

“Wait, Poe!” You call, half turning.

Too late. He’s gone.

***

You’ve never been punched before. Training was always hand to hand, blocking blows or fighting with weapons. They don’t teach you how to take a punch, or five, or twenty.

It doesn’t hurt at first. The impacted spot on your cheek just goes numb. You can feel the cut on the inside from your teeth against the sensitive tissue, but it doesn’t hurt. Yet.

Then after a couple minutes, it turns into a white hot pain. Couple that with fists landing all over your body, and you’re in pain like you’ve never felt before. Tears spill over your cheeks as the fist lands against your nose, cracking your head back against your prison table. You can’t see, can’t feel your face. Your mouth fills with blood, coating your tongue and spilling down your chin as you gasp for air. You can feel your lips split in different places.

There isn’t a part of you that doesn’t hurt, but you hold onto Poe. He didn’t give them anything, so you can’t either. You can’t let him have suffered for nothing.

The trooper stops, rolling his shoulder. “Answer me. Where is your base?”

You spit the blood out of your mouth at his feet. “That all you got? I was just getting into it.” You say and he grumbles, turning to leave for the time being.

You close your aching eyes and drop your head against the support. It’s not comfortable by any stretch of the word, but it’s better than having to hold your head up anymore.

The image from your nightmare flashes in front of your eyes, Poe fighting the invisible enemy, only now it’s not so invisible. A StormTrooper is wielding the blade, plunging it deep into Poe’s heart.

You jerk upright in your bed, upsetting your holopad and sending it crashing to the floor. You flip on the light, unnerved and feeling like you're not alone in your room. But there doesn’t seem to be anything there. Just your clothes on the floor.

You push yourself to your feet, not feeling safe here, and grab your blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders. You want to go see Poe, make sure he’s okay, be positive your nightmares haven’t gotten him yet.

But he doesn’t want to see you. Having avoided you for the rest of the day, you get the hint. A moment of weakness. That’s what that kiss was. You were there and he needed someone. Could have been Nya, probably for all he would have minded. Any port in the storm.

So, you bypass his room and head for the tower where you ate your lunch. It’s quiet, dark, you can see anything coming for you. You climb the steps slowly, feeling the familiar pinch of your stitches. They’re still ugly, crude, jagged. Maybe it’s good that Poe doesn’t really want you. No one could possibly love the new mutilated you. Bryce hasn’t seen them yet, either. You’re positive that the second he does, he’ll run for the hills.

Maker, you’re selfish.

You push open the door and a body in the tower makes you freeze. “Oh.” You mumble, realizing it’s Poe. “Sorry. I’ll leave.” You rush, ducking back down.

“Stay.” He croaks and you hesitate. “I can’t sleep. Stay and talk to me?”

“You sure you want me to?” You ask.

“I’d rather it be you than anyone else.” He admits.

You feel like leaves on the wind as you climb the rest of the way up. Swirling around in chaotic confusion. You don’t know which way is up, what to trust. You sit a little ways away, back against the wall, facing him.

“What do you want me to talk about?” You ask finally.

He drags a stick through the dirt, making scratch drawings. “I told you some stuff earlier. Spilled some of my guts. Anything you wanna tell me?” He asks finally.

“Yes.” You answer. It’s harder than you think to get these words out. “I…” you close your mouth, thinking about where to start.

“Not easy. To spill your secrets.” He muses. The pale moonlight ghosts across his face. He looks terrible. Tired, hurt, miserable.

“Anything you wanna ask me?” You prompt. “Maybe I can say it that way.”

He looks at you warily. “Will you tell me the truth?”

“Always.” You answer immediately.

“Why did you kiss me in the river?” He asks. “I’ve been thinking over it on a loop and I just can’t figure it out.”

“It felt… right. I needed to do it. I wanted to do it. You’ve always been the best person in the world to me, always taking care of me and looking out for me. And on that planet, I was losing my fucking m-mind, seeing things, hearing things. You were so patient, so kind, so… you. And I could feel tension. Not in a bad way, but pulling me towards you. I’m so sorry, Poe. I know you said I didn’t do it, but I can’t shake the feeling that if I hadn’t, if I hadn’t distracted you, you would have heard those troopers coming. You’ve never been so compromised on a mission before until you go on one with me. I fucked up so bad and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for hurting you like that.” You ramble, the dam broken and the words spill out everywhere. He doesn’t move in the shadows.

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. Your ears start to ring in the dead silence before he speaks again. “So, why kiss me in the lab?”

You sniffle quietly. “You admitted you wanted to do it again, and it’s been one of the dominating thoughts in my head since you saved me in that closet. I want to kiss you. And I like kissing you, but… the guilt… it just keeps reminding me that I’m hurting everyone. Every time I kiss you, I hurt Bryce. Every time I mention him, I hurt you. I can’t get it right. I’m turning into a plague.” You press your lips together.

“You had a nightmare in the cave. What was it?” He asks. You’re not even sure if he’s actually listening to your words, he gives no indication of hearing them.

“I,” you pause, having to think back that far. “I was hovering over myself as I slept. You were saying something but I couldn’t really hear it. Then I went outside, but it was into a First Order ship. And then I saw the tables we were attached to. And then two men fighting with lightsabers. And then…” you cut off, swallowing thickly. This part you remember, even though you wish you could forget it. “A-and then you. Y-you were fighting something I c-couldn’t see. It had a bl-blade and it killed you, stabbed you th-through the heart.” You say, gasping for breath. It feels like the surrounding air is crushing you. “I w-woke up and you weren’t there, I pa-panicked.” You twist your fingers into your blanket, hiding your face.

“Do you want to kiss me again?” He asks finally.

“Poe,”

“Do you? If you say no, I’ll never bring it up again.” He promises.

“Of course, I do. But it’s not that easy. I keep hurting you. I don’t know how not to. And being around you, it makes me happy, it makes it easier to breathe. I don’t wanna lose you. I couldn’t survive it.” You admit shamelessly.

“You won’t lose me. I won’t leave you.” He says. “One more thing.” He starts.

“Okay?”

“Do you hate the way dickhead doesn’t know how you like your caf?” He asks and you crack a tearful smile.

“Yes. It’s not hard.” You mumble.

“Come here.” He holds out his arms. “Come sit with me.”

You scoot over, resting your head on his shoulder as he spreads your blanket out over the both of you.

“I need you, too, you know. I can’t lose you, either. And if that means I have to kick Bryce from here to Tatooine, I will.” He says, nuzzling into your hair.

“Please don’t. You’ve been hurt enough on my account.” You close your eyes to him stroking your hair.

“No promises, sweetheart.” He's quiet for so long, you nearly fall asleep. “But I’m not gonna stop kissing you.” He murmurs against your hair.

With one last conscious thought, you dig into your pocket, reaching for his hand with your other one. Sleep is making your limbs like lead, heavy and clumsy. You feel him chuckle a little, placing his wrist in your fumbling palm. You place the chain in his hand, curling his fingers around it.

“Meant to give it to you earlier,” you mumble, almost certain you formed actual words.

“Y/N, ” he chokes, squeezing you tight. “Thank you.”

***

“You have to eat something.” He protests, guiding you down off the ladder. His chain is back around his neck, shimmering against his tan skin as it always has. Some day, he's going to give it to someone; someone he wants to spend the rest of forever with. Someone who isn't broken like you. Someone who actually deserves him. And you'll try to be happy for him, but you know it'll break your heart.

“Can’t you just… go get it for me?” You ask, feeling your hands start to shake at the thought of the crowd.

He smiles softly, brushing your hair back. “Sweetheart. No.”

“Poe…” you start and he cups your face.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, okay? I’ll be right there the whole time.” He promises. “But you have to eat. You need your friends. They miss you.” He looks around, noting the empty pathway. “If you need to leave, we’ll leave. Just say the word.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s gonna be loud.” You protest as he takes your hand and leads you towards the commissary and dining hall.

“This early?” He scoffs. He pulls you along gently. You could stop him, you could let the tears free that have been simmering just under the surface since you got back. You know he wouldn’t push you to do it if you’re not ready.

But… he’s gone in there, he’s seen his friends. If he can do it, you can, too. You take an extra step, falling in next to him instead of being pulled by him and he smiles down at you proudly.

“There’s my girl.” He says softly. He holds your hand right up until you stop outside the doors. He lifts your hand to his mouth softly, eyes never leaving your face. “I’ll be right next to you.” He promises. You nod and he lowers your hand, reluctantly letting it go until not even your fingertips are touching.

He pulls open the door and lets you walk inside first. He doesn’t shove you in, instead, he waits for you to take a deep breath, smiling down at you until you straighten with a false sense of confidence, and step inside. He follows you, just barely touching your arm as he guides you to the line of food.

Despite his assurances that the room would be mostly empty, with shift changes and missions leaving early, the room is fairly crowded. You can feel his eyes on you, along with about a hundred others, but you feel better today. Stronger, even. You can do this.

You hope.

Poe picks up two trays and starts to put food on both, watching your face for positive or negative signs. You could do this yourself, you’re perfectly capable, but you like him waiting on you a little bit. Just this one time, let him dote on you.

He finds an empty table, just the two of you and he sits across from you, foot tapping against yours. They trickle over, slowly, one at a time. Your friends come to sit next to you. But this time, they don’t swarm you. They sit next to you, or next to Poe, talking to him about something trivial and you’re so grateful. It lets you get used to it again, being around people, acting human again.

You watch Poe, listening to him joke with Snap; Beaumont sets an apple on your tray as he tells Poe some gossip. And Poe sits there, listening and laughing to all of it. He interacts, partakes, and never once does he look uncomfortable or like he wants to bolt. You don’t know how he does it.

And then Lieutenant Connix walks behind him. She leans down to say something in his ear, her hand squeezing his shoulder as she talks. His hand lifts to cover her own as he twists his face to listen. After a second, he nods and she walks away.

You’ve always liked her, she’s friendly, smart, ambitious. But maybe you need to rethink your ideas. She walks quickly, her hips swaying, and you huff under your breath. Since when are she and Poe so close?

You try to listen, to distract yourself, but you can’t tear your eyes away from where the pretty girl disappeared through. Poe’s foot taps against yours and you flinch, looking up at him slowly. He smiles softly, his eyes falling to your ignored food.

You roll your eyes, picking apart your roll and taking small nibbles. After a couple minutes, Connix is forgotten as Beaumont regales the table with a story of how he got trapped in a wedding dress on Coruscant.

Soon, you’re laughing along with them. You forgot what this feels like, your face hurts from smiling so much. Poe’s beautiful eyes are on you, his own grin infectious.

A crack echoes across the big room and you jump, hands grabbing the table, ready to run. Your heart pounds in your ears and it’s like your vision completely leaves you. Snap’s hand settles on yours closest to him as he shouts something. Your brain slowly fades back in and you realize Poe has your other hand across the table and Beaumont is out of his chair, peering across the room.

Two mechs collided, neither paying attention to what was in front of them, their trays falling to the cement. That was the cracking noise.

Poe’s hand is shaking just slightly, hardly noticeable, as it covers yours, but you feel it. You twist your hand into his and he glances over at you. You smile softly, tracing your thumb over the back of his hand.

Beau sits back down next to you, his eyes searching your face for a minute before he grins. “Never boring, eh, Y/N?” He asks, his hand resting on your shoulder.

“I guess not.” You answer. You pull your hands back and pick up the apple. Poe is quicker than you thought possible, his favorite knife out and the handle pressed into your palm before you can even realize you need one.

You cut the apple in half, core out the middle on both halves and give the other half to your best friend. He’s abnormally quiet for a minute as he chews, and you wonder if maybe he’s not as okay as you thought.

“Wexley, what’s on the agenda today?” You ask Snap, half turning to face him, giving Poe time to recover.

“Well, I have a mission the day after tomorrow. So, I need to get my ship ready. There’s a part that’s being problematic. I have some mechs that are gonna look at it today and see if they can fix it.” He sighs.

“Well, if they have any problems, you can always come find me and see if I can help.” You offer and he grins.

“I just might do that.”

Once Poe is sure you’ve eaten all you possibly can without getting sick, he collects your trays and you join him to deposit them before leaving the room with a wave to your friends.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asks and you slip your hand into his.

“Thank you for making me go.” You say, leaning into his shoulder.

“Of course.” He smiles. “And… thank you.” He sighs, scratching at the back of his neck with his free hand. You cast your mind around, trying to figure out what he could possibly be thanking you for.

“I didn’t do anything.” You frown.

“With that stupid tray… you… fuck. How are you always so strong exactly when I need you to be?”

“Poe, I was ready to bolt. The only thing stopping me was you and Snap.” You tell him. “If you hadn’t grabbed my hand to keep me there, all you would have seen was my dust as I hightailed it out of there.”

He smiles softly, but it’s weak, a little broken. “I didn’t grab your hand to keep you there. I grabbed it to keep me there.” He admits, pausing outside the door to the lab.

You stare up at him, realization dawning much too slowly. “Poe,” you place a hand on his cheek and he leans into it, eyes fluttering closed. “Anything I can do, anything you need-I’ll always be here. You’re not alone.” You whisper and he pulls you close, kissing you softly.

Every time feels like the first time. His lips press against yours like they’ve known each other forever, no hesitation. He tips your head back, towering over you as you hold onto his shirt. His tongue is soft on yours, not domineering and controlling the way… someone else’s is… your subconscious blanks on the name, but it doesn’t matter, not when Poe is kissing you like his very life depends on it. No, like your life depends on it.

He pulls away, breathing slightly faster, forehead pressed to yours. His eyes are closed, but yours are open, drinking in every detail of his beautiful face. “Me and you, kid.” He agrees and you punch his arm, a smile already pulling at your lips. His eyes fly open and he rubs his arm.

“We’re the same age.” You glower and he laughs.

“I know. But you’re so much shorter.” He puts his hand on top of your head and you slap it away, turning towards the door with a huff. You’re about to swipe your keycard, but he pulls you back, plucking it out of your pocket. He swipes it and pushes the door open, letting you step in first.

“Will you stay?” You ask, reaching for your log books.

“Yeah. I don’t have anything else to do. I’m still technically on leave, recovering from…” he trails off, but you get the picture.

“Alright.” You start checking off your supplies and notes while he moves around your lab. You don’t pay him much attention, there isn’t much trouble he can get into. But you feel better having him around.

He looks through every box on the supply shelves, every glass container. You look over at him, catching his eye being magnified through a specimen jar. He looks so ridiculous that you can’t help but snort at him. He grins and straightens up, coming over next to you.

“Didn’t find anything you liked?” You tease, flipping through the last of your notes.

“Oh, I found plenty I like. Just nothing I can take right now.” He sighs wistfully. Your face heats, so you keep your gaze directly away from him. He chuckles and sits in the spinning chair next to your bench.

Chapter Nine

Everything Tag List

@everythingisoverrated @psyched2b @shreddedparchment @bitsandbobsandstuff @after-avenging-hours @alexblrus @thinkingsofamadwoman @i-dont-want-to-be-called @thefridgeismybestie @fortheloveofallthatsholy @crazychaotic @pleasureoftheguiltiestvariety @redstarstan @justreadingfics @themistsofmyavalon @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @wkemeup @thiccbinch @glide-thru @elliee1497 @ellaenchanted91 @part-time-patronus @janeyboo @scarlettwitcher @thirstybitchqueen @stuckonjbbarnes @barnesandco @geeksareunique @nicoleplacee @lexshead @gambitsqueen @lokisironthrone @imanuglywombat @also-fangirlinsweden @ravenesque @murdermornings @countryrockmama @starbuckie @kato-ptris @mandos-crest

Star War Tag List

@bookishofalder @doctor-warthrop @acrossthesestars @waterpancakeao3 @generousrunawaydonut @eclipsedplanet @general-latino @marvelobsessiononastick @itsdameron @mads-weasley @rawrrimamonsterr @diaryofkali @mrsdaamneron @sabxism @fanfictionismydeath

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thedeboniardevistation · 3 years ago

Note

I literally don't understand why is it that any time a wrestler gets exposed for something shitty and problematic they did, you have to bring up Sammy and everyone else. You're over here saying Sammy should get fired, when he isn't even the problem anymore and hasn't done anything since. You also seem to forget that out of everyone that got exposed in the Speaking Out movement, Sammy was the only one that got any kind of punishment. No, he didn't get fired. But I don't see why he gets all the focus put on him when Darby, Justin, and Jay have had nothing happen to them and still run around scot free.

Ok, so I was gonna ignore this until we got to Sammy vs Darby because I want my followers to know how shitty they are. BUT you DMed me so I’m just gonna speak.

THIS. Is probably the post that is being referred to, THAT WAS 14 DAYS AGO. I haven’t blogged since so therefore you went out of your way to find this and start stuff because you sent the same ask (which was more aggressive mind you) towards @uceyjuceycoutoure which I don’t even get. So I don’t even know why we’re starting stuff when I’ve said multiple times that this is my blog, I am free to post what I want. Even when I don’t put him in the actual tags and if you don’t like what I say, PLEASE block me.

Now I’m getting on to this DM. Because it’s absolutely ridiculous and it’s fucking stupid.

1. Just because Sammy got punished (very lightly might I add) doesn’t mean anything. Darby, Lethal, Roberts and anyone who was involved in the speaking out stuff deserved to get punished but unfortunately the world doesn’t work in the ways you want it.

2. My “garbage posts” are literally me telling y’all who don’t know about this is “hey this is what he said in the past so y’all should be aware of this” because it’s something that should be talked about because change it not, making jokes about R*aping someone is NOT OKAY. As well as all the shit Darby, Lethal, Roberts and anyone else did. Also I’ve never actually tagged him in any of my posts. I never do, I only say his name, so once again BLOCK ME. This will be the only time I do tag him.

3. Sasha never once said she accepted Sammy’s apology. She was classy and put out a response that they talked and that’s it. Also, do you know Sasha? Are you her bestie? Do you really know she’s gotten over it and doesn’t care? No you don’t. So you don’t know how she feels.

And to assume I wouldn’t be acting the same way if it weren’t sasha is absolutely disgusting of you. If he said that about ANY woman i would still be on his ass. Because he is a bitch and whoever defends him is a bitch.

Everyone please do yourselves a favor and don’t give this account anymore attention then I’ve already given them because it’s screaming “I want attention” and I’m too busy to be dealing with children

#wwe #wrestling #raw #aew #all elite wrestling #sasha banks #sammy guevara #aew dynamite #Sasha

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maastrash · 4 years ago

Note

Person A and Person B are friends and neither of them have a date for Valentine’s Day, so they decide to order takeout of some kind and watch a movie together. At some point, hidden feelings are revealed. umm elorcan, obvi, because i am nothing if not predictable 🤪

isa... babe... i swear i actually did start writing this around Valentine's day... but... i am CLEARLY a mess.... please accept my VERY late elorcan present 😳

Valentine's Day Confessions

a/n: surprise i am alive ;)

Elide cursed as she grabbed the steaming hot popcorn bag from the microwave. The decadent buttery scent filled her cozy apartment as she poured it into her favorite mixing bowl. She was about to pour in the m&m’s when she remembered who exactly was joining her tonight - Lorcan. And her friend was not a fan of chocolate. If you asked her, the man simply had no taste.

It was Valentine’s Day and the pair had decided to have a singles awareness celebration. Since their entire friend group was filled with couples they were each other’s only source of company on this dreaded day. Truthfully, Elide despised Valentine’s day. Seeing countless couple posts on Instagram and stupid lovey-dovey shit everywhere only made her more bitter. She hadn’t had a boyfriend in a long time - too long. If she was being honest, she had always thought Lorcan would make a move on her one day. Though at this point, it had been years of banter and flirting with absolutely nothing else, so she had pretty much lost all hope. She would just have to accept that she would forever be in the friend zone, but of course, that was easier said than done.

She settled into the couch with her favorite stuffed animal when the doorbell rang. Lorcan, she assumed.

“It’s open,” she called.

“Elide, I could have been a killer,” Lorcan chastised as he took off his leather jacket and shoes at the front.”

“What killer rings the doorbell?” she shot back.

“Ok fair point,” he said, quickly settling down next to her.

“What do you wanna watch?” she asked, turning to Netflix.

Lorcan shrugged, “Your house your rules El.”

“Lorcan,” she grumbled. “You know I’m too indecisive for this.”

He had the audacity to laugh at her misery, “I know, but it’s funny watching you struggle.”

“I already know no romance movies. I’ve already seen enough lovey Snapchat stories to last a lifetime.”

“Agreed. Did you see all the shit Rowan and Aelin have been posting?” Lorcan asked with a laugh.

Elide laughed too. “Can’t be worse than Lysandra and Aedion.”

Maybe they were just cynical because they were both single, but at the moment Elide didn’t care. It was fun to joke around with Lorcan.

“Let’s watch an action movie then,” Lorcan suggested.

“John wick?” Elide asked, already clicking play.

Lorcan smiled, “Sounds like a plan.”

The movie had barely begun before Lorcan was shifting his massive frame to lay down, placing his head on Elide’s lap.

"Lorcan," she groaned. “You’re heavy as fuck.”

He mockingly gasped, “I’ll have you know I’m on a diet Elide Lochan.”

“It’s your absurd height, stupid,” she whacked him, but he was laughing the whole time.

“You’re warm,” Lorcan whined, sounding much like the five-year-olds that Elide taught every day.

“I have blankets right over there,” she said, gesturing to the basket overflowing with various throws.

Lorcan only stretched his legs out and adjusted himself on her lap. “If you don’t get up I’m gonna sit over there,” she said motioning to the new armchair she recently bought.

“When did you get that?” he asked, finally speaking.

“A few days ago because you literally take up the whole couch when we hang out.” She actually got it for decoration, but bantering with Lorcan was entertaining.

“You’re dramatic Lochan.”

“I’m dramatic?” Elide asked, as she stood. “I’ll show you dramatic.”

She walked to the armchair and plopped down crossing her arms and legs.

She was about to add another dramatic remark, but before she could she felt the chair give way. Suddenly, she was on the floor.

“Ouch,” she mumbled, once she registered the pain she felt on her ass.

“Elide, are you okay?” Lorcan asked, making his way over.

“Yeah I’m fine,” she muttered. “But I am never buying Ikea furniture again.”

In all honesty, it was probably her faulty building skills, but she was not going to admit that at the moment.

She tried to stand but pain shot up her ankle. She had landed on it weirdly, due to her dramatic crossed leg position.

“Wait for me Lochan,” Lorcan said as he carefully picked her up bridal style from the ruins of what once was her armchair.

“I could’ve walked,” she said softly against his chest.

That made Lorcan chuckle. “You were barely standing, El. You would have hobbled at best,” he said gently, placing her on the couch. "Let me get some ice. Your ankle already looks pretty swollen."

“I think it's just aggravated. Old wound,” she tried to say it with a smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace.

Lorcan’s eyes softened in understanding. “Ice won’t hurt though.”

Elide nodded and Lorcan took to the kitchen freezer in search of ice. He returned moments later with a bag of frozen peas wrapped haphazardly in a paper towel. He helped situate her ankle on a pillow so it was elevated and gingerly placed the bag on top.

“Shit that’s cold,” Elide couldn’t help but hiss.

Lorcan laughed softly and Elide smiled. Lorcan’s laugh was one of her favorite sounds. It was rare to see him smile and laugh openly when they were with their other friends, but when it was just them she saw it more often. She liked to think that it was because he was comfortable enough with her to show the real Lorcan.

“That’s the point, Lochan.”

“Get us some drinks, Salveterre,” she chuckled. “There is no better medicine than alcohol.”

“Whatever you say, boss,”

“I have a bottle of wine on the top shelf,” Elide called when she heard Lorcan rustling around.

“Got it,” Lorcan said, returning with a cup of wine. A cup.

“I was too lazy to find the glass,” he said in response to the look she gave him.

Elide stuck her tongue out at him before accepting the cup. “Let’s drink every time Keanu Reeves shoots someone,” she suggested.

“Elide, I think you would throw up if we did that.”

Elide rolled her eyes, “I’m not as much of a lightweight as I was in college, Lorcan.”

He raised a brow at her statement. “We’ll see about that."

As he expected, it had barely been 20 minutes, and Elide was already a giggling mess.

It only took 10 more for her head to fall on Lorcan’s shoulder.

And after another 10 minutes, Elide was onto the honesty.

She had hung out with Lorcan one on one many times, but nothing as intimate as a movie night on Valentine’s day where they were practically cuddling.

“Ok Salveterre truth or dare,” Elide slurred, turning to look at him.

“Elide the movie isn’t over yet,” he said pointing to the screen.

Elide gave him a look and paused the movie, “I’m too drunk to pay attention, plus we’ve watched this movie like five times,”

“Fine,” He laughed, giving in, “I say dare.”

“I dare you,” she said, poking him in the chest, “To kiss me.”

Lorcan almost spit out his wine. “Elide, you are way too drunk to be saying things like that.”

“I’m serious,” she said, setting her wine cup down for emphasis.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day I met you, but you clearly only want to be friends.”

“Elide -”

“I know I’m not your type,” she said, her eyes dropping to the floor. “It’s fine, we can forget about this and blame it on the alcohol. It doesn’t have to be weird between us.”

She felt his hands on her chin, tilting it so they made eye contact.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day I met you too. Elide Lochan, you are smart, kind, and pretty much out of my league in every single way. ”

She felt her cheeks flush at his admission. “Please just kiss me already, Salvettere.”

Without another word, his lips were on hers. Soft and sweet, a perfect first kiss, but she wanted more. She kissed him harder and opened her mouth. He took the hint, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. He pulled her closer, her heart was beating wildly against his.

Elide shifted so she was straddling his lap. She grinded against him and let herself get lost in the way he felt. The way he made her feel.

Lorcan shifted slightly as if he was going to lay her down. It would have been perfect, but Elide’s ankle turned too quick and she grimaced, breaking the kiss for a moment, but that’s all it took for Lorcan to pull back.

“Shit. Sorry, Lochan. I forgot about your ankle.”

“No I’m fine,” she panted breathlessly, trying to pull him back in.

“Maybe we should stop for tonight,” he said, brushing the hair from her eyes.

Elide grumbled, “stupid cock blocking ankle.”

Lorcan laughed again. “I can get you set up in your bed before I head out.”

Elide couldn’t help the pout, “Stay please?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his chest.

He smiled softly. “Anything for you, El.”

They readjusted on the couch so they were facing each other, this time cautious of Elide’s ankle. Lorcan pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and Elide tucked herself closer to his side. It wasn’t long before both of them became drowsy thanks to the alcohol and their heartfelt confessions.

And as Elide began drifting off to sleep in Lorcan’s arms, she knew this is how she wanted to spend every night for the rest of her life.

Tags: @illyriangarbage // @court-of-fuck-me-daddy // @girlnovels // @julesherondalex // @ifangirlninja // @dreamerforever-5 // @queen-of-wings-and-fire // @rhysanoodle // @jemma-nessian-and-elriel // @books-and-words-addict-blog // @nightinshadow // @wolffrising // @the-regal-warrior // @dreamingofalba // @abillionlittlepieces // @alitzeldiaz // @kylizzles // @queenmaas // @illyrian-bookworm // @aspillofstars // @b00kworm // @tswaney17 // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn // // @perseusannabeth // @sweetlyvillainous // @awesomelena555 // @notyournymphetish // @ladywitchling // @aesthetics-11 // @sjmships // @iammissstark // @illyrianwitchling13 // @moondancer-204 // @sjm-things // @foolsinlovex // @sayosdreams // @welcometothespeaknowworldtour // @stardelia // @julemmaes // @thewayshedreamed // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @keshavomit // @superspiritfestival // @wannawriteyouabook // @verryberriess // @courtofjurdan // @bookstantrash // @sannelovesreading // @ahappyhistorianreader // @cass-nes // @my-fan-side // @junsuichow // @sleeping-and-books // @yumna402 // @lordof-bloodshed // @emcarstairs578 // @gisellefigue08 // @maybekindasortaace // @starborn-faerie-queen // @empire-of-wildfire // @loveofbooksandwine // @sanakapoor // @silentquartz // @a-omgnaomithings-love // @aimee1602 // @jlinez // @creamcheesechicken // @steamedlattes // @sahsahprova // @elriel4life //

#elorcan #car answers #nalgenewhore #elorcan fic

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gr-ogu · 5 years ago

Photo

Hello! As requested, here is a tutorial on how I make my gifs. I would like to preface this by saying there are many ways to make gifs, and there’s no right or wrong answer imo. This is just how I personally go about doing so!

I will be using PS CC 2017, but as long as you have the video timeline option, it shouldn’t matter too much; on any version of PS, you should be able to adapt anything I mention here! You will also need some kind of screen recording software. I’ll talk a little more about that under the cut.

To start, you need the source material you will be making the gifs from! I get mine from snahp(.)it (avoiding links so tumblr hopefully doesn’t banish this from the tags lmao) and I always opt for either 1080p or 2160p. Not all laptops will support 2160p as it’s 4K, but either works great! You just want your gifs to be the best quality possible.

Next is where the screen recording comes in. I don’t use the screencapping method to make my gifs (where you use a program to cap a clip and then load those caps into a stack in PS). This isn’t for any particular reason… it’s just how my friends, (who very kindly taught me to gif), had always done it, so it’s now how I do it too. Personally, I find the quality to be just as good as the screencapping method, and have never noticed a difference between the two.

As I have a PC, I use the software built into it for screen-recording. If you go here: theverge(.)com/2020/4/21/21222533/record-screen-pc-windows-laptop-xbox-game-bar-how-to – you can see how to use the XBOX screenrecorder to record from files you have d*wnloaded. This also works on some streaming sites, but I think it depends on what browser you use. Personally, I recommend Firefox, as that seems to bypass a lot of the blocking and ads that occur when trying to do this sort of thing.

For MAC users, I have been told handbrake works well, as it converts MKV files to MP4, which can then be used to make gifs. You only need to convert part of the file to MP4 depending on how much you want to gif, and this also bypasses the screenrecording stage, as you can edit MP4 clips on Quicktime. I am told you can split them into smaller clips by going to edit > trim and it saves the new clip!

I have also used anyvideoconverter for small clips, but I can’t say what it does to the quality of your video, or how big of a file it lets you put in! With the XBOX screenrecorder, it doesn’t matter what type of video files you get, as the recording will save to MP4 anyway.

LOADING YOUR FRAMES

Now, go ahead and record whatever clips you want to gif. Make sure you have the video timeline open, by going to window > timeline. Then, go to file > import > video frames to layers.

Next, select and open your clip from where it has saved (with the XBOX recorder, it saves in video > captures). You should see a little window pop up, where you can move the sliders back and forth to clip your recording to whichever part(s) you specifically want to gif. I recommend trying not to load a lot of frames into photoshop at once, but I would be a hypocrite to say that, since I do it a lot lmao. Just be patient if you do!

Once you have chosen the length, click okay. Never, EVER, I repeat NEVER click the button that says “limit to every __ frames”. This really ruins the flow and quality of your gif—it’s better to have shorter, but smoother gifs, I promise. And with tumblr’s new 10 MB limit, it shouldn’t be a problem anyway!

Then, your frames should open up. What we want to do is make them into a smart object, so we can edit all the layers at the same time. To do this, click the small button in the left-hand corner. ALWAYS click this first. If you don’t, it will only convert the first frame to a smart object and the gif won’t work.

Give it a second to sort itself out, then, on the right-hand side, select all your frames at once using the shift key.

Then, go to filter > convert for smart filters. This might take a minute. Don’t click anything else in case PS gets angry lmao, just leave it for a second and it’ll do its thing. The more frames you have, the longer it takes! Now we have our gif, but it needs to be cropped, sharpened and coloured!

CROPPING

You want to start by selecting the rectangular marquee tool on the left-hand side, then drag it across by clicking and highlighting the area you would like to crop your gif to, like so:

What I tend to do is select everything inside the black lines you sometimes get around your gif (this depends on what file you d*wnload), and also the tiniest bit inside the sides. This is because I’ve found if you crop it right up to the edge, you get a tiny bit of transparency on the sides of your gifs, which I’d rather avoid.

Once you have your desired selection, go to image > crop. Now, the dimensions for tumblr are 540px width, so all your gifs have to be that width. However, the length is up to you. I really like big gifs, so sometimes I even make a full square, or even longer. It’s entirely up to you, and what kind of set you want to make.

For the purposes of this gif, I will stick to what I usually go for, 540px by 350 px. This will mean you’ll have to crop some width off, but that’s okay, since Marisa isn’t central anyway. The cropping is always trial and error for me, as sometimes people move out of the frame within in the gif. The best thing to do is just try it, and then move the slider in the timeline window at the bottom to see if the person stays inside the gif, and if not, adjust accordingly.

Next, go to image > image size:

In this box, if I put the width as 540, the gif is a smaller height than I want, as it keeps to the dimensions of the gif when you load it into PS. That’s okay, just put the height you want instead, and we’ll crop off the excess.

Then click OK. Using the rectangular marquee tool again, we need to remove the excess width. Part of the reason I like this version of PS is that it tells you the width of your selection as you do it, but you can always use the ruler as a guide, and check the size of your image by going to image > image size again.

Again, use image > crop, and your gif should now be the correct size!

You can also use the crop tool in the timeline window to crop the length of your gif:

However, I tend to wait until later on to do this (which will be explained further down!)

SHARPENING

Next you want to go to filter > sharpen > smart sharpen.

These are my settings. However, 0.4px is very sharp, too much so, but that’s easily fixed.

Go to filter > blur > Gaussian blur and then set it to 1.0.

Now on the right-hand side, we need to reduce the blur, so double click the little adjustment button, and change the opacity of the blur. I usually go for 20-30%!

Then click OK, and that’s your sharpening done!

COLOURING

I picked this scene on purpose as it’s dark, so good for showing how to colour a gif. I have a base psd which consists of some very basic adjustments, but it mostly exists so I don’t forget what adjustment layers I like to use. I adjust them every time I make a gif, essentially colouring each gif from scratch.

In this case, the psd actually makes it darker. So, what I will do is turn each layer off, and adjust as I go. A lot of people say using lots of adjustment layers ruins the quality of your gif… I have never found this to be true, as long as you are gentle with them. If you whack the brightness right up to the top, it’s going to ruin your gif no matter if you use 1 adjustment layer or 100. I would just say use your common sense, and adjust a little at a time!

I start with a simple black to white gradient map set to soft light, because I think it helps you see depth once you add some brightness to it. I usually do this on about 10%, or more if needed. It’s probably unnecessary, I just like how it looks!

Then, I move onto using curves and levels. This is where things can diverge depending on who you’re colouring. If this person is white, it doesn’t matter too much. If they’re not white, you don’t want to white wash them. My best advice is to play around with it. By adding vibrance and other (usually the red) selective colour settings later, you can ensure you don’t change the person’s skin tone from what it originally was. You can also use layer masks at varying opacities (various shades of grey), on your curves and levels, to remove some brightening so that you’re not changing anyone’s skin colour. Just brighten slowly and check in with yourself honestly about how your gif looks.

Some people don’t like using levels, or curves. It’s completely up to you. I tend to use both because levels are good for bringing depth, even if not brightening (though I like to use them for that as well).

One thing you can do is use the white point of the gif to make PS adjust the curves itself, however I like to drag the sliders myself and see what it looks like. Just make sure it’s not too bright, as we will be using further layers to brighten more, after.

Next is levels. The slider on the left controls the black point, the one in the middle controls the midtones, and the one on the right controls the white points. The black brings depth, the midtones adjust the overall brightness, and the white points produce stronger highlights. Again, you’ll get a feel for how this works as you practice. Just don’t use the white point excessively, especially if your characters are not white.

Then I add vibrance (+20!), because we’ve removed a lot of it when lightening the gif. Next is exposure, which I find brings out the highlight and shadow areas more effectively:

Then colour balance! This helps with scenes that might be a certain colour, i.e. too blue, too green, too red, etc. Moving the sliders in the opposite direction of the colour your gif is will counteract it. The best thing to do when accounting for different colours, is to make a new layer every time you change colour, so that you don’t get confused. I always add a new layer for colour balance and selective colour if I want to change more than one thing. So one for red, one for yellow, one for pink, etc.

A layer of brightness just to make the gif pop, and because the scene is extra dark, I added a very gentle extra curves layer:

SAVING YOUR GIF

Time to save the gif. You can go ahead and file > export > save for web (legacy) now, but then you’ll have to reopen the gif to reset the frame rate from 0.07, to 0.05. Instead of doing that, I use a modified action. The original was made by the very talented @elenafisher! So I do not take credit for that at all. You can find the original here: elenafisher(.)tumblr(.)com/post/190817437374/gif-sharpening-action-2-preview-download and in my resources tag. Please reblog it if you’re going to use this!

To use an action, first make sure you have actions turned on in window > actions. To load in your action, go to the little lines circled, and then load the action from your downloads:

Obviously if you don’t want to sharpen your gifs yourself, you can use the action as it is, and it will give you a beautiful glowing effect. If you’d just like to use it to flatten your gif into frames like I do, make sure to take out all the items I have highlighted:

Until it looks like this!

Make sure you have the layer under the file name highlighted, and then click the play button at the bottom! (If you get a screen saying select all frames cannot be found, don’t worry, just click continue!) You can delete the layer that does that if you want, I just keep it in case I realise I’ve forgotten to do something, because you can click cancel and edit your gif before you flatten it. Of course you can undo the steps to get back to the smart object version of your gif, it just takes longer!

And now your gif is in frames and set to 0.05 already, so you don’t have to change the speed! All you need to do now before saving is change the gif cycle to “forever” in the bottom left-hand corner:

Then to save the gif go to file > export > save for web (legacy). Sometimes, the gif is bigger than the tumblr 10MB limit. You’ll be able to see this in the bottom left-hand corner of the gif save settings. If this is the case, I like to preview the gif, to see whether it would be best to cut frames off of the beginning or the end, or both. When you’ve decided, you can select the frames at the bottom, and in the right-hand side panel, and delete them both using the little bins/trash icons.

I keep checking and deleting frames until I get the gif under 10 MB! Just don’t delete frames from the middle, as then you’ll have the same issue as if you selected “every other frame” when making the gif: it won’t flow!

Lastly, these are my save settings:

So that’s it! That’s how I make all my gifs. Blending I do when the gifs are in the grouped, smart filter stage, whereas text I add on during the framing section above! Really hope this is helpful, please feel free to ask any questions you may have! 💖

#gif tutorial #tutorial*#completeresources #yeahps #chaoticresources #allresources #mikesmom #usergeo #userava #usertix #usersmile #usertom #if you'd like me to cover anything more advanced just shout #i wanted to show how i add text too but tumblr wouldn't let me add any more pics #but people can let me know if that's something you'd want!

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yeojaa · 5 years ago

Text

( VELVETEEN RABBIT. )

What do you get when you mix Thumper and Bambi? Answer: Jeon Jungkook.

pairing. french lop bunny!jjk x ragdoll cat f!reader.

genre + rating. hybrid!au set in college. super fluffy, a little angsty, with a dash of smut to balance it all out. explicit towards the end because i just can’t help myself. oops.

tags / warnings. honestly, this jungkook should just come with his own warning. but more realistically, mentions of kook using a scrunchie, kook being cute, kook railing his date after using the world’s worst puns... the usual.

wc. 4.4k

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif as always become, c’mon. i’m me. she’s her.

author note. this was written as part of @thebtswritersclub‘s a hybrid fest and is gloriously late (i’m so sorry @ditttiii). i’ve never written anything hybrid-related before so hopefully you enjoy. feedback goes a long way! xoxo

He orders the same thing every time he’s in. Iced Americano, no room for cream, and a single almond croissant. (Every once in a while, he switches it up for matcha but that’s exceedingly rare.) He always pays with a tap of his wrist - a sleek black AppleWatch with rubber band - and flashes his trademark slightly too-big smile. All the girls swoon. So do the guys. Everyone except for you.

He’s unnervingly handsome, with long dark ears that sometimes hang in front of his eyes. You’ve caught him with them pulled back Lola Bunny-style, knotted with a loose silk scrunchie that looks nearly as soft as his fur. His hair’s usually unkempt, tossed into a little sprout of a bun, overly long fringe falling all over his big round eyes. He wears butterfly clips sometimes, though that’s usually on days where he isn’t freshly sweaty and carrying his gym bag. They appear in his hair when it’s damp from a shower, the smell of papaya and honey clinging to every inch of him. You know, because you have a great nose - one that’s sensitive to every smell under the sun but especially his. (You try not to think about it much.)

It’s a Wednesday morning when you notice the change. It doesn’t register at first, acknowledgement coming in a curious sniff at the air. Weird.

“Thanks,” he says like clockwork, a well-oiled polite machine, deceptively slender hands receiving the exceedingly hot cup without a care in the world. He’s got his usual bag over his shoulder - overly big, black, almost tactical - and a pair of comfortable looking pants on that seem more like they belong on your beloved grandmother. Somehow, he rocks it (but he always does). “Have a nice day.”

Because of course he says that. Of course he steals the words right out of your mouth, turns them back on you as easy as he makes your heart rattle around in your chest like it’s a Friday night bingo ball.

He moves toward the bar - he only ever grabs three napkins, tucks them into the slot on the left side of his bag - but pauses halfway there. Rooted to the same spot as always, sleek ears following the imposing line of his shoulders.

One, two—

The thumping starts, so quiet it’s almost negligible. But you catch it, because you always do and because you’re the reason for it.

He turns then, levels you with a look from the corner of those pretty, pretty eyes and you can’t help but laugh, openly, unashamedly, with the back of your hand plastered to your mouth. A true ojou-sama.

His mouth quirks - does that funny thing where he sucks in his cheek then rolls it back out with his tongue - and you think he might finally say something. Call you out for writing his name wrong for the past five weeks, finding more and more creative ways to do so every time. Even occasionally using nicknames - silly things you’d come up with while on the walk home, or during lunch, or in bed.

“Good one,” he states, laugh lines threading over his face, prominent around his eyes. His nose wiggles with the sound - another of his traits that comes out to play often. Your favourite of them all, if you’re being honest.

“Anytime.”

You don’t realise it’s him until it’s too late, until you’re practically running into him, bouncing off the broad expanse of his back with a startled squeak. Lucky for you, you’re quick on your feet, catching yourself before your skull can become too well-acquainted with the red brick wall to your right.

“You okay?” Though he asks, you have a sneaking suspicion he knows you’re not and an even stronger suspicion that he’d been waiting for you, hovering past the entrance of the cafe with his big university hoodie on.

“Barely,” you manage around a laugh, straightening the backpack slung over your shoulders, packed to the brim with goodies you got to bring home at the end of the night and two of your textbooks.

“Should watch where you’re going.”

This is the most conversation you’ve had - ever. But it’s fun, easy, organic and natural. You wonder why that is.

“You should watch where you’re standing, actually.”

He’s so much bigger than you, imposingly tall (especially being part of the Leporidae family) and wide in the chest. Not bulky by any means, but big. Strong. Threaded with a strength you don’t normally see in hybrids of his kind. It probably has to do with how often you see him covered in sweat and panting, basketball hooked under his arm, soccer cleats tied to his bag.

When he speaks again, it’s full of mirth, squeezing his round eyes near shut. “Got a problem with me standing here?”

You nod, solemn as ever (which is really never, but that’s besides the point). “It’s dangerous to block entryways, didn’t you know?” You’re gesturing to the awning, the dark interior just past the window of the shop. “You’re loitering, Jungkook.”

“So you do know my name.” You can tell he’s not surprised - that he’s hamming it up for dramatics, softly pink lips rounded in a little ‘O’. He’s cute like this, you think. Playful in a way you’ve never seen before.

“I do?”

There’s that cheek thing again. It’s even more attractive up close, the shape of his jaw thrown into prominent relief when he sucks in a breath.

“You just said it.”

You nod, thoughtful, finger tapping upon your chin. “I guess I did.”

“Say it again,” he states, expression inscrutable, eyes bright. They’re so glossy even under the dimmed streetlights, impossibly big and undeniable. So easy to get lost in - if your attention weren’t caught by something else.

“What is that?”

You’d noticed it earlier in the day, caught the scent in passing sometime during the early hours. You’d been unable to place it then, too distracted by freshly ground coffee, a girl’s three too many spritzes of Daisy by Marc Jacobs, and baking banana loaves.

It’s heady, masculine. A strong musk that sinks into your nose and makes it twitch, ears rotating as if that’ll help pin the smell down.

“What’s what?” You hadn’t realised how close you’d become, your face five seconds from planting directly into his chest. (It’d probably be nice - you know how soft your school’s merchandise is.) “Are you okay?” He asks because you’re now, actually, planting your face right against the worn navy cotton. It’s terribly nice, silk upon your cheek.

You answer more to his clothes than to him, nosing into the fabric. “You smell different.”

You feel more than hear his laughter, the sound barreling past his teeth seconds later. The vibrations running along his spine jostle you from your position face first upon him but you don’t mind. It doesn’t send you far, dark eyes peering up into the face of the bunny hybrid. True to his kind, his nose is twitching, puffs of laughter expanding his cheeks when he meets your stare.

“No I don’t.”

“You do.” Tone firm, a finger lands upon the neatly embroidered N on his hoodie. The white stitching stands in stark contrast to your baby blue nails. “You smell… off.”

Whether Jungkook’s offended or not, you can’t tell. He’s got that same strange expression on his face - the one from this morning when he’d received his coffee. It’s made up of too many moving parts: the flutter of his lashes, the coil of his jaw, the minute tick of the corner of his mouth. You can’t read him for shit, somehow more confused now than in your 300-level art history class. (You’d taken it as one of your optional electives assuming it’d be an easy A. You were wrong.)

“Sorry you think so,” he hums, looking down at you. You’ve seemed to fully forget the meaning of personal space, edged up beside him as if you’re best friends and not just two ships passing in the night.

“It’s not bad.” Really, it isn’t. It’s strong and sensual, vegetal in a way, calming in another. But it isn’t unwelcome.

In fact, you think you might like this scent a little more - less sweet than what normally clings to his skin, natural honeycomb rather than processed sugar. It zings across your teeth, pieces broken up and scattered behind your molars. You can practically taste it. Him.

“Is that so?”

“Yep.”

You share a look - one that says more than all the words you’ve ever spoken, that threads together all the silly laughter, narrowed stares, (written) flirtations. It settles between the two of you, filling the spaces with something akin to cotton, light and airy and soft.

The desire to speak lingers, hidden just beyond the cotton candy dusting. Should you? Shouldn’t you? You still have no idea what he’s doing here, a street urchin making his rounds on the campus village.

He beats you to it. “Can I walk you back to your dorm?”

You don’t think you could want anything more. “Sure.”

Silence falls again but it’s comfortable, a caress rather than a crutch. The grounds are surprisingly quiet - wayward students on their way to the library or heading home from lectures. There are no picnic blankets spread across the grass, no gaggles of girls dressed in school colours. It feels like the first day of fall, change sitting heavy in the air.

“So—” You start.

He finishes, “do you wanna go on a date with me?”

That’s surprising. (Or is it? You’re not really sure.) You nearly trip over your own two feet in your haste to look at him, entire body swivelling on the spot because apparently you can’t just turn your head like a normal person. Something something all or nothing.

“What?”

“Do. You. Want. To—” He’s being insufferable for the hell of it. You can see it in his eyes, glossy things shining down at you like he’s got the entire fucking nightsky hung in them.

“Not if you keep that up,” you retort, though you both know you’re lying. You’ve been waiting - wishing, wanting - for this moment since the day you laid eyes on him. Since Yuri had elbowed you so hard in the ribs you’d thought you’d be bruised for days, since Jae had rambled on and on for his entire shift about the cute new bunny who’d come in that morning. Since that very first wrongly spelt name on his plastic cup and every visit since.

“Is that a challenge?”

“You won’t get it in.”

He scoffs, loud and drawn out, cheek rounding with disbelief at your disbelief. How can you possibly doubt him - school basketball star and all-around athletic freak of nature?

“What do I get if I do?” The ball rests in his palm, poised to be shot through the hoop, sunk without making contact with the rim. He’s confident - he’s done it a million times.

“A pat on the back?” As much as you tease him - loop mockery around nearly every syllable you speak, you’re endlessly supportive, already carrying the fruits of his labour under your arms. A Pikachu shoved haphazardly into the purse slung across your body, a Snorlax tucked under your arm at an awkward angle that crushes his poor head, a Sylveon tucked into the side pocket of his joggers. (The arcade was really into Pokemon, apparently.) “Me saying thank you?”

“Not good enough.” He leans in close - those big galaxy eyes practically swallowing you whole - and taps a single finger upon your nose. It makes your nostrils flare, an itch blooming under his touch. “Gotta sweeten the deal.”

You must look hilarious because Jungkook’s biting back a smile, smirking down at you. Then, all at once, without breaking eye contact, he’s extending his arm, flicking his wrist, and— swish!

In goes the ball, leaving him with a perfect score.

“I want you to stay the night.”

You think he’s joking. He must be joking. This is your third date.

But he’s staring at you like he’s completely serious, gaze expectant, lips pursed around something that reads like a smile but has your heart doing a strange little one-two step in your chest. It soars for a moment, high above the clouds like the string orchestra of a choral work - Beethoven’s Ninth in D minor.

“Are you propositioning me, Jeon Jungkook?” It’s the same reaction he always has when you say his name: a twitch of his ear, the corner of his bottom lip quirking and then resetting, eyes so sparkly it’s almost absurd.

“No. I’m just telling you what I want.”

“Huh.” You should say no. Guys like him - with charm that oozes out of every pore, whose offhanded smiles break more hearts than you ever have - are almost always bad news. Too sweet, too funny, simply too much for your feeble heart to take.

“Is that a yes?” He’s got you in his clutches - a viper rather than a hare, with a smile so dangerous you’re paralysed by just the sight of it. (Who needs venom?)

Your words catch in your throat, stick to one another like the deformed gummies at the bottom of the movie theatre bag. What comes out isn’t what you expect. “Okay.”

Damn you. Damn him. Damn how good he smells and the big dumb grin that spreads over his lips, sunshine in human form, undeniable and warm and cute enough to start a war over. (That’s probably what’s happening - a vicious battle between your head and your heart.)

Damn his stupid thumping foot that you can make out over the sound of the video games, the boisterous din. It’s so cute you can’t help yourself from smiling, mouth pulling and pursing around the delight that begs to be freed.

“Cool,” he says, and you almost think that’s not very cool. He’s so nonchalant, cavalier about it as if it means nothing. You’d be bothered if you felt like you didn’t know him so well - hadn’t learnt his idiosyncrasies over the last two months.

How he looks when he laughs really hard, his slightly too-big front teeth taking up all the real estate in his mouth. How he sounds when he’s tired (groggy, with a lisp that rarely sees the light of day otherwise) or when he’s told he’s wrong (pouty, with his bottom lip jutted out so cutely you want to scream). How he runs every morning, hits the gym every night, and eats double your protein because fitness, bro! How his cheat meal of choice is soy garlic fried chicken from the place off-campus and he hates tangy, tart desserts (your lemonade lip gloss not included, he insists). How he can’t sleep if he’s too hot - which he often is - and he spends way too long combing through his ears with a specialty brush he doesn’t let anyone touch. How he’s secretly raindrops and gummy bears and hand holding in the car, so much more than his high school superlative of most likely to grace the cover of GQ.

You wonder, because you know those things, does that make you special? Does it make you immune to the heartbreak that you swear you imagine whenever your mood drops (not often, but often enough)?

You hope so.

“Let’s go shoot guns?” He’s tearing you from your reverie, planting an open-mouthed kiss to your temple. It’s sloppy and not very refined, much less suave than what you’d expect from your school’s soccer captain (and basketball small forward and swim team stand-in). You suppose that’s why you like him so much - because he’s always surprising you, keeping you on your toes.

“Let’s.” You agree, letting your date drag you toward the Time Crisis machine. It’s blissfully unoccupied, allowing the two of you to slide into place. He takes the blue gun, you the red.

He squeezes your hip when you take up position, one eye squeezed shut as you look down the barrel of the plastic weapon. “Better not let me die.”

“Better not get shot,” you return.

He doesn’t listen - failing halfway through the helicopter scene, his shot missing and resulting in some sad miserable death in the form of Continue? blinking across the screen. Neither of you mind that much though. He occupies himself on his phone, free hand tucked into the back pocket of your jeans. You play better when he’s not shouting terrible call-outs, nearly crashing into you because he gets so into it.

(How he’s never got a concussion on the basketball/soccer/etc. field before, you’re not sure.)

By the time you’re done - a good five minutes later, you think - Jungkook’s growing restless, tugging at your belt loops enough that you stumble with every shot, nearly knocking yourself out when you have to steady yourself on the centre console.

“Kook!” Your glare is barely that, too affectionate to dissuade him from his childish antics.

He pulls you forward, traps you between his thick thighs, tattooed hands settling comfortably on your hips. “Let’s go home.”

“Someone’s in a hurry.”

Of course, he doesn’t deny that.

It’s not the first time you’ve been over. Not even your second or third. You’ve met up with him before his games, thrown his jersey overtop and helped him wrap his fingers before hitting the court. You’d even had to grab his cleats for him once, running across campus as he did drills in his socks as punishment.

This time feels different. You know why but it doesn’t make it an easier pill to swallow. It lodges somewhere in your throat, makes it hard to breathe when you kick off your shoes and tuck them neatly beside Jungkook’s.

“Are you hungry?” He’s already in the small kitchen, glancing over his shoulder at you as you linger in the adjoining hallway, bag halfway over your head.

“I’m good.” You are, really. You’d eaten one donut too many at the arcade, indulged in a little too much disgusting nacho cheese goodness. You don’t really understand how your date’s still hungry, a cucumber crunching between his teeth when he turns back to you.

Standing there, vegetable devoured in quick, decisive bites, he looks every inch the French lop bunny he is.

You reach him in the same instant he finishes his midnight snack. Arms fold around you like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing, head dropping to rest comfortably upon yours. Like this, his ears tickle your cheek - velveteen fur lost to the silk of your hair. “Are you tired?”

Another no comes - spoken into the fuzzy fabric of his sweater - and he hums above you, whole frame rattling with the noise.

“No bed then?”

At least he’s transparent, you think.

“One track mind much?” You’re only teasing. A part of you looks forward to… whatever it is that sits over the horizon, lost past the creaky bedroom door and somewhere beneath his surprisingly soft sheets. (You’d asked about them once - he’d told you his mother liked to send him housewares to remind him of home. He was a real mama’s boy that way.)

The monster only laughs, snuggles into your hair like it’s home. “Can you blame me?”

You can’t do much of anything when he’s like this - so utterly adorable and enticing and good for your heart that it feels as if you’ve taken a straight dose of morphine.

“Let’s go to bed, Wookie.” Another nickname, recently coined after you’d spent an evening watching Star Wars for the first time.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You whack him on the way to his bedroom, smack a hand over the arm curled around your shoulders. He pretends like it hurts, howls in a way he he thinks resembles a wounded animal but really just sounds stupid. “Not a ma’am.”

“Sir?” He asks, just to make you laugh.

“If you don’t shut up—”

He pushes you through the door of his bedroom while giggling to himself, sound puffing out of his cheeks. “Don’t be mad, kitten.” The two of you drop to the bed, a tangle of limbs and silken fur and squeaking laughter. “You’re so purr-ty when you’re annoyed.”

He’s doing it again. Dropping those stupid cat puns that make your nose wrinkle, ink-tipped ears folding back against your head.

“I think I’m hiss-terical, don’t you?”

Face adamantly buried into his sheets, you don’t give him the time of day. You don’t even care that your mascara is probably rubbing off against the charcoal fabric, lipstick tint doing potentially irreversible damage. He knows how unfunny you find these jokes, how you’ve heard them your whole life and roll your eyes so hard your optic nerve might sever every time you face another.

What’s the point of sharing your pet peeves with him when all he does is lean into them? Use them against you like it’s the cool thing to do. Make you wonder what you’d seen in him when he was just another customer, another boy in Seoul National indigo and bedhead so dishevelled it begged to be managed.

(You’re not sure why you’re so irritated suddenly, caught in the clutches of a moodswing as you curl into your side and ignore his bad jokes.)

Stupid Jeon Jungkook. Annoying, silly, too-cool-for-his-own-good Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook who makes you second guess your choices, leaves you breathless and confused with just one dumb look. Who has convinced you into his bed and teases you mercilessly, snickering to himself as his foot bounces against the floorboards because he finds himself that funny.

“Baby?” The pet name comes, presses itself past your curtain of hair and invades your thoughts.

You say nothing, adamantly faced away.

He doesn’t like that, sneaking his hands around you and cradling you into his chest as if that’ll lighten the mood. (It does, a little bit, but you don’t tell him that.) “Don’t ignore me,” he mumbles, warmth breath tickling your ears, fingers dancing over the rungs of your ribs as if they’re ivory and not bone, playing a tune only he can hear.

“Stop with the shitty jokes,” you retort. You’re being difficult - can feel the vinegar turning your blood even as he tries to will it all away.

You feel the intake, the rise and fall of his broad chest. You can only imagine how hard he’s biting his tongue, careful to keep his next errant pun at bay. People don’t tell him no - only you. Maybe that’s why you do it, to remind him you’re not just like everyone else.

“Sorry.”

You don’t tell him to show you how sorry— but he does anyway.

You’re astounded by him, utterly entranced by the way he moves. How power runs the length of his frame, manoeuvres each of his limbs and turns your own to jelly.

He’s got you face down, ass up, hands cradling your hips like they’re his home and he can’t bear to let go. Every upward stroke feels like heaven - feels like a million lifetimes of pleasure you can barely wrap your thoughts around. He’s impossibly big, thick and long. The first thought you’d had when he’d stripped his black Calvin Kleins was pretty.

You realise now there’s nothing pretty about him. He’s filthy - the devil come to collect as he fucks you across his bed, nearly loses you to the pillows at the head with each snap of his hips. (What they said about rabbits was true, you think.)

“B-Bunny,” you sob, scratch over cotton that’s worn soft and smells exactly like your favourite sweater of his. The linens are defenseless, tangled up and wrinkled with each flex of your fingers, bunched up within your palms every time he buries himself like he’s looking for the answer to life, thinks he might find it within the fluttering walls of your pussy.

“Not my name.” When he sounds like this, he’s more predator than prey, a thousand volts of electricity shooting up your spine. He’s demanding and unrelenting. It makes your head spin.

“Wook—”

“Not.” Bunny teeth are just as painful as a feline’s, doing their job as they dig into the flushed skin over your back, marking his territory with two prominent indents right between your neck and shoulder. “A.” He ruts into you as if he’s got something to prove, snaps his hips to a beat you can’t keep up with. “Wookie.” Grips you so tight you might snap, red blooming beneath his hands.

You sob under him, drool against the pillows because you can’t seem to keep your mouth shut. (You feel like Jungkook post-win, spewing nonsense as he prattles on about game winning plays with his teammates.)

“K-Kookie.” It’s what he wants to hear - hits him right in the chest, a bull’s eye to the thing that beats wildly and in tandem with your own.

His rhythm stutters. The bed is shaking and not because he’s practically breaking the weak wooden frame. No, his foot’s thumping, bouncing across the sheets even as he tries to regulate the roll of his hips, return it to the assured, teeth-numbingly good tempo it’d been at.

It doesn’t work. You love it anyway. Like it more, because it means he’s just as affected by you as you are him. Your heart sings, leaps out of your chest on hummingbird wings, and dances around your head. You’re a goddamn cartoon - Pepé Le Pew in ragdoll form - animated pink shapes circling like a crown.

You don’t care. You can’t. Not when he plasters himself to your back and asks you to say it again, begs you to tell him how good he is, tells you how he wants to make you his.

Who cares if it’s three dates in, if your meeting was cliched and silly and he’s the campus heartthrob?

You don’t - because he’s yours and when he flips you onto your back and you curl your fingers into his hair, it’s your name he stutters out. It’s you who has him coming apart beneath your hands, the feel of his ears like velvet, the little whines he huffs growing louder each time you tug at the base. It’s you who knows what he sounds like as he falls to pieces, throws himself against you as if gravity demands it. It’s you who holds him to sleep, whose skin acts as a canvas for the doodles he traces as he drifts off.

It’s you and it’s him and that’s enough.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle

1K notes · View notes

scuttling · 4 years ago

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(You Want To) Make a Memory

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina Original Female Character Word Count: 19,858 Chapters: 5 of 5 Complete Tags: 18+, NSFW, Amnesia, Anxiety attacks, Sex dreams, Dom/sub, Daddy kink, Praise kink, Unprotected sex, Vaginal fingering, Dirty talk, Choking, Biting, Hickies, Oral sex, Making love, Angst and feels, Shower sex, Size kink Summary: Sophie gets amnesia while working a case and forgets everything from the last two years: her friends, her job at the BAU, and her boyfriend, Aaron. Note: This is a reformatted, previously published work. :)

Link to AO3 or read Chapter 1 below!

The thing Sophie finds most complicated about her work at the BAU is that it’s their job to predict the unpredictable. Yes, they are all highly educated, knowledgeable profilers, with decades of experience between them, and human behavior typically follows patterns that are easily discernible if you have the right training. But even armed with all the information, all the statistics, all the data, there’s one thing they can never really know for certain: what a desperate person will do in the heat of the moment.

The unsub they are looking for is a white male, aged 25-35, who lives alone, has a steady daylight job, drives a red pickup truck, and has a problem with older female authority figures. Sophie could go on and on about this particular type of unsub—she could tell you where he shops, how he spends his evenings, his favorite sport/team/player, probably even what he’ll eat for dinner tonight—but there’s no way she can know how he’ll react to the FBI at his door, or the consequences his actions will have.

The team is canvassing the neighborhood they believe the unsub resides in, and she and Spencer were assigned the four hundred block; they each take a separate side of the street, and work their way down house by house trying to find someone who fits the profile, or knows someone who does.

“Any luck?” Sophie asks Spencer when they meet back up at the end of the the block. He grimaces, uncertain.

“There was one guy, but…” She gestures toward the SUV and they walk toward it together.

“What happened? Profile didn’t fit?”

“He was the right demographic, the vehicle fit, but he wasn’t disorganized. In fact, his home looked like it belonged in a catalog: photos on the walls, decorative items, nothing out of place.” She frowns a little, because it’s clear this guy has raised some red flags for her partner, and she trusts his intuition when it comes to stuff like this.

“And he lives alone?” she asks, confirming. That’s a pretty big part of the profile, considering what he does to the victims. He nods.

“Yes, no indication of a girlfriend or wife living there.” Sophie blows out a breath, leans against the side of the SUV.

“Okay, let’s brainstorm. Maybe... he hires a housekeeper.” Spencer shrugs.

“He didn’t seem like the type, but I guess it’s possible.”

“Alright, well… Okay, so our profile is of a man who kills older women because he has an issue with an older woman who is an authority figure in his life. We thought maybe his boss, but what if it’s his mother?” she asks, face lighting up a little. This theory makes more sense, actually. “What if she comes over while he’s at work, cleans the place up, redecorates, just takes complete control of his life, even his private space, and he loses it?” He nods enthusiastically.

“That is extremely more likely. Now that I think of it, all the photos were of him and an older woman who could be his mother.” Sophie pulls out her phone, gestures over her shoulder with her thumb.

“Let’s head back there; Hotch and JJ are just around the corner, I’ll let them know we might need backup. 412?”

“Yeah—hey, that’s the truck. That’s the truck,” he says with more urgency, pointing down the street at a rapidly approaching red pickup truck that matches the description of the unsub’s. Shit.

“Okay, get in the car, call Hotch,” she instructs, and they both barely make it in before the truck rear-ends the SUV on the driver's side; Sophie’s head hits off the steering wheel hard, and the car rocks, and she looks over at Spencer, a little disoriented, to make sure he’s okay. He’s holding his wrist, like maybe he hurt it bracing himself.

When she gets her bearings, she starts the car, throws it into reverse, ready to apply a little force and potentially keep him from striking again, but he backs up, speeds up, and cuts the wheel to go around them, striking her door and driving past. It’s then that another SUV cuts him off, and Hotch and JJ jump out, guns drawn; the unsub raises his hands, surrenders, and it’s over as quickly as it began.

“Sophie?” She can hear her name, but her head is swimming. She touches the cut above her temple, pulls back a hand covered in blood, but she knows head injuries bleed heavily, so she’s not worried. She’s more worried that she can’t tell where that voice is coming from. It’s like she’s in a fun house, sounds echoing from all sides. “Sophie, can you hear me?” She hums in response.

Kind hands are on her face, turning it toward the sun, and she scrunches her eyes at the brightness. She knows the hands are trying to help, but her head already hurts, and the light isn’t doing her any favors.

“Gotta… get up,” she mumbles, and the hands hold her waist, help her out of the car. Her left foot hurts when she puts her weight down on it, and she almost folds, but the hands hold her up, and she thinks she smiles.

“Reid—is she okay?” That voice is a voice that makes her want to answer immediately, even if her brain hasn’t quite caught up. She stumbles over her words.

“‘M okay. Just my… head.” A different pair of hands hold her up, and her brain is working enough to recognize that she loves the smell of the person attached to the hands. They are serious hands, and one of them sweeps gently over her face.

“Can you open your eyes for me, baby, please?” that good voice asks, and she wants to do anything the voice asks, but her eyes really hurt. She must say that out loud, because the voice says softly, “That’s alright, don’t strain yourself. Medics on the way. You’re going to be fine.”

“Tell him…” She is placed back in the car, can feel the softness of the seat against her back, and it’s nice. “Tell him that was mean… and not to do it again.” She feels lips on her face, turns toward them, sighs when they brush over hers. “Mmm. Or I’m going to… tell his mother.” When Sophie wakes up, she feels like she’s been repeatedly punched in the head, thrown down a flight of stairs, and then run over by a truck, so, naturally, she groans. She doesn’t dare open her eyes at first, can already see the fluorescents flickering through her eyelids, but her mouth is dry, and since she knows she must be in a hospital, she knows that there’s a little plastic pitcher of water somewhere within her reach.

Cautiously, she cracks one eye, finds the pitcher and a kind looking woman with fair skin and dark bangs staring back at her.

“You’re awake!” she whispers excitedly, and she leans forward for a hug, which Sophie does not return, because she doesn’t know the woman. The woman must feel the tension in Sophie’s body as she sits, arms at her sides, and waits for the hug to end, because she pulls back, concerned. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she begins, unsure of how to put this politely. Her voice is dry, rough, and the woman pours her a glass of water, which she takes gratefully. “I’m sorry, I just… I don’t… Do I know you?” Her face falls, and she looks confused, and then abruptly worried.

“My name is Emily. Prentiss. Does that ring a bell?” Sophie thinks back, tries to navigate around the pounding in her temples, and ultimately shakes her head.

“No, I’m sorry. And I mean no disrespect—I meet a lot of people for work, so sometimes it’s hard to keep track.”

“Where do you work?”

“I work for the FBI. Intelligence.” Sophie takes in the woman’s outfit—black turtleneck, gray pants, boots, government issued handgun—and tilts her head curiously. “And you?”

“FBI. Behavioral Analysis Unit.” She pulls her bag closer on the seat beside her, pulls out her credentials, lets Sophie hold them. “Have you heard of it?”

“Sure, of course. I have an interview there next week, actually.” She hands back the badge with a smile. “Small world. Uh, do you think that what happened to me occurred because of a crime, or something? Is that why you’re here?"

Agent Prentiss gives her a sad smile, then stands, pulling out her cell phone. “You know, we’re really not sure what’s going on. Excuse me for one moment, I need to make a call. I’ll get your doctor while I’m out there.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Sophie calls as she heads out of the room, and she pours another glass of water.

When the agent returns with the doctor, she looks tenser, but the doctor just shoots her a kind smile. “Hello, Sophie. I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

“Thank you; I’m glad to be awake. How long have I been out?”

“About two days. You were in a car accident, do you remember that?” She’d catalogued her injuries while alone—laceration to the head, some pain and swelling there; aching wrist, sore but unbroken; bruised ankle, tender but okay to put pressure on—and they are consistent with a car accident, but she shakes her head.

“No, ma’am, I don’t remember.” The doctor frowns, an expression the agent behind her mirrors.

“What’s the last thing you do remember?”

“Um.” She closes her eyes, thinks hard for a moment, but it hurts her eyes. “I was driving home from work, I think? Or about to leave for the day. It’s kind of blurry.”

“That’s alright, don’t press too hard. It should come back to you in no time.” She steps around the bed to pull her chart off the wall, skims it briefly. “We’re going to have to run some scans; I’ll give you a moment with Agent Prentiss, and then I’ll send someone in to take you down to the lab, okay?”

“Sure. Thank you, doctor.” The woman smiles and walks out of the room, leaving her with the clearly unhappy agent. “Is everything okay, Agent Prentiss? You look about as bad as I feel.” The woman sighs, drops back down into her seat, folds her hands in her lap.

“The doctor believes you’re suffering from retrograde amnesia. You don’t remember some things you should remember. Quite a bit of time.” Her throat goes dry again, her heart beats rapidly in her chest.

“That’s not possible. I remember driving home from work… or, getting in the car to drive home from work, just the other day.” She shakes her head like she’s not sure what to say.

“I know, Sophie, but that’s not a recent memory. You don’t work at the Grant building anymore.”

“What do you mean? I’m the Intelligence liaison. I mean, I applied for the BAU job…” She’s wanted to work there since she found out about it, to put her degrees to good use; to get an interview is almost unheard of, everyone told her, but she made the cut, even bought a new suit to wear. It’s still hanging in her closet.

“And you got it,” Prentiss says gently, reaching forward to take her hand. “You and I have been working together at the BAU for almost two years.”

Sophie can’t be blamed, she doesn’t think, when she leans over, reaches for the wastebasket, and promptly vomits. “So I’m a profiler, and I’ve been one for two years. I work with you and we’re friends,” Sophie repeats as a bit of a recap. Prentiss nods.

“Yep. Those who profile serial killers together, stick together.” She says it with a smile that doesn’t touch her eyes.

“Wow. Okay. I’m really sorry I don’t remember you.” She shrugs it off, and Sophie sighs. “Any other major life events I should know about? Did I get a cat, go vegan?”

“You don’t have time for a pet, and you like cheese too much,” Prentiss jokes, but that does sound like something she’d say. Her face gets serious after that, and she even looks nervous. It makes Sophie nervous, too. “You have a boyfriend.”

That raises her eyebrows.

“I have a boyfriend.” She smiles softly, nods.

“Yes. He’s… it’s funny, because he’s actually... our boss.” Sophie blanches. Talk about a close-knit group.

“I’m sleeping with my boss? That is not like me.” She barely sleeps with anyone, too busy focusing on her career and not that into one-night-stands, but her boss of all people? That’s just plain stupid.

“It’s really not like that, trust me. You two are in love.” Okay, she’s heard enough. Maybe Prentiss is a prankster, playing some wildly hilarious joke on her amnesiac pal.

“I’m in love. Did I actually say that?” She knows herself pretty well, flaws and all, and she’s been a vehement skeptic when it comes to love for… god, as long as she can remember—no pun intended. Prentiss nods, looks very serious.

“Yes, I’ve heard you say it many, many times. You two live together.”

“We live together? For how long?” This can’t be right; one of the things she values most is her privacy, her solitude. She lives a quiet, simple life, aside from being an FBI agent, and she likes it that way.

“About six months,” she answers carefully.

“We’ve lived together for six months? How long have we been dating?” Her voice sounds a little shrill even to her own ears. Prentiss is being very cool about it all, doesn’t so much as blink.

“It’s a year next week, actually. He’s been trying to come up with a surprise for your anniversary.” Sophie feels a little lightheaded.

“Anniversary. Fuck.” She squeezes her eyes shut, which hurts, opens them only so the pain will go away. She knows they’re teary, can’t help it, but she doesn’t want Prentiss to see her like this. She hates being vulnerable, always has. “I can’t remember two years of my life. I can’t remember my own boyfriend, my own job. My friends.”

“I can tell you about them, if you want,” she offers cautiously. “The doctor said it could help, but if you feel like it’s too much, let me know.”

Sophie nods carefully. She wants to know, she needs to know.

Prentiss—Emily—is so genuinely kind. She sits there for an hour, tells Sophie about work, and their team—their friends, because the group is very tight, gets together for dinner and drinks, and they all support each other’s non-bureau endeavors, and she feels so sad that she can’t remember them, can’t recall anything Emily is rattling off so easily it’s like she doesn’t even have to think about it.

She talks about some tough cases they’ve worked on, and how they always end with a cookout or a family dinner so they can remember why they do the hard things, why they keep fighting. She talks about people they’ve helped, saved, brought comfort to. She talks about flights home on the jet, how sometimes they sit in quiet, companionable silence and other times it’s all teasing and laughter and the good things in life.

Then she starts talking about Aaron—the boss/boyfriend—and Sophie does cry, a couple of tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. She’d never imagined in her life that she would be as loved as she is, if Emily’s stories are true, and the fact that she can’t remember any of it is like a knife to the gut. She wants to scream, to make someone pay for what she’s missing, but she knows none of that will bring her memory back, so she dials back the rage as quickly as it came—huh, that’s new.

Usually, her particular brand of anxiety attack would happen right about now, always worse when she’s afraid or angry. She anticipates tightening in her chest, shortness of breath, ringing in her ears that takes forever to go away, but it doesn’t come. She’s able to calm herself with a deep breath, and despite the fact that the rest of her life is a dumpster fire right now, this feels kind of good. It feels like progress, not a story told through someone else’s eyes, but a tangible feeling she can hold onto and think, I am a different version of Sophie than I was two years ago. A better version, maybe. But at least different. That, above everything else, makes it real.

A nurse walks in to take Sophie down for scans, and Emily just smiles, a bit sadly, and tells her she’ll be there waiting when she returns.

It’s a small comfort, something she holds onto as she’s taken down to the lab. When Sophie makes it back to her room, Emily is waiting there as promised, and she has a duffle bag sitting on the bed. “The doctor says you can go home while they wait for the scans,” she says with a smile; she probably thinks it will make Sophie happy, and it does, but the idea of going to a home she’s never been to is a little unsettling. Still, it’s nice to know there are people who care about her who will help her through it, that she’s not alone. That’s not something Sophie of two years ago would have been able to count on.

She smiles back, and Emily helps her change into clothes that somehow still smell like the hospital, but it feels better to be dressed and not stuck in the flimsy hospital gown that always makes you feel weaker and sicker, more injured than you really are.

She hears a voice from out in the hall, a voice that catches her attention immediately, and she walks over to the door, peeks her head out to see if she can find the man it belongs to.

She does, and he is almost too good-looking to be real. Somehow, she both instinctively knows that this man is Aaron, and can’t see how that could possibly be true.

“Emily. Is that Aaron?” she asks to confirm, pointing to the tall, serious-looking, frankly smoldering hot man having a conversation with her doctor at the end of the hall. She peeks her head out the door too, looks toward him with a smile.

“Yeah, that’s him. Do you remember him?” Her tone is guarded but hopeful, and Sophie sighs.

Remember him, no, not in the way she means, but every cell in her body feels alive and on fire just from catching a glimpse of his face, so she’s pretty sure Emily is right and she’s crazy in love with him. And his suit. Who looks that good in a suit?

Her boyfriend, apparently. Who she lives with. Who she’s been with for a year. Her mind is still a little blown.

“I don’t recall any memories of him,” she whispers, as if he can hear her from down the hall, “but, uh. I think my body remembers him.” Emily looks at her, eyebrow quirked, and she blushes. “Or, you know. Parts of it.”

Realization dawns, and Emily grins. “Okay yeah, that tracks. You two are kind of all over each other. It’s an intense vibe.” Sophie takes a moment to imagine that, what it would be like to be in a relationship with this man.

He looks intense, which can be good or bad, with the kind of mouth you could kiss forever, smile against. He’s taller than her by about a foot, which thrills her, and broad, as evidenced by the jacket stretched across his shoulders, which really thrills her. He’s older, maybe early forties, which she doesn’t feel particularly strongly about one way or another, with gorgeous dark hair and eyes, and when he shakes hands with the doctor, silver wrist watch gleaming under the fluorescent lights, her mouth practically waters.

“Earth to Sophie. You’ve got a little drool, there,” Emily teases, pointing to her own mouth, and Sophie groans.

“You didn’t prepare me. You didn't tell me he was hot.” Aaron turns away from the doctor, starts walking down the hall toward her room, and she ducks out of the doorframe, Emily following suit. She puts a hand to her forehead, not in physical pain, but mental pain for sure. “God, this is going to be so awkward. I’ve got a total lady boner for the guy I’m in love with that I can’t even remember.”

“It might be a little awkward at first, but you guys are sweet together. He’s going to be so caring and understanding, give you all the time you need.” She puts her hands on Sophie’s arms, grounding her. “We’re going to focus on trying to get your memories back, but the doctor said you shouldn’t stress.”

“That’s easy for her to say,” she mutters, crossing her arms, “she didn’t forget her big sexy boyfriend.” She hears a soft chuckle from behind her and instantly flushes, which makes Emily grin.

“Sophie, this is Aaron.” She physically turns her, and Aaron is smiling gently, which makes him look even better than when he was serious and expressionless. Her heart thrums in her chest.

“Hi. I’m sorry I don’t remember you. I want to.” She sticks out her hand for a shake, feels dumb instantly, but he takes it anyway, holds it for a moment. His hand is rough, so much bigger than hers, and part of her hopes he never lets go.

“That’s alright. Dr. Bracken is confident you’ll recover all of your memories in time. She’s given me some instruction on ways we can try to jog your memory, but no stress, like Emily said.”

“I guess we’re not considering the fact that losing two years of your life is a little stressful,” she counters, and he laughs again.

“You haven’t lost anything. Just misplaced them for a while.” He steps toward her, like he wants to touch her, comfort her maybe, but freezes, thinks better of it. She’s torn between wanting to get to know him better first and wanting to jump into his arms immediately, so she decides to let him set the pace. “So… Do you want to come home with me?” His voice is soft, hopeful, matching his eyes. “Garcia—our friend, another coworker of ours—has offered to put you up at her place if you’re not comfortable with that, so no worries either way. You have a place to go.”

Her stomach sinks a little at the thought of being anywhere but home, even though she has no idea where that is, and she looks back at Emily, who smiles encouragingly.

“I think I want to go home,” she decides after a moment, and she turns back to look at Aaron. “Is that okay with you?” He nods seriously.

“Yes, of course. I want you home with me. I just wanted you to know you had other options.” Emily slips past her, a hand on her elbow, and finishes gathering up her belongings while they talk. “The rest of the team is going to come over for a little bit, if you’re okay with that. The doctor said it would be a good idea, since you spend most of your time with them, but if at any point it gets overwhelming, let me know. No hard feelings if we send everyone home.”

“Okay,” she breathes, her head already swimming a bit just from talking to Aaron, and he does step forward, then, giving her her space but indicating that he wants to come closer, if she’ll let him.

“May I put this on you?” he murmurs, and opens his palm to display her rose necklace, the one she wears, must still wear, everyday. At least that hasn’t changed. “The EMTs gave it to me when they brought you in. I’ve been holding onto it for safekeeping.” She nods, turns around, and he slips it around her throat, clasps it, brushes a careful hand over her neck to move her hair out of the way. “That’s better,” he says, his breath ghosting over her skin, and she sighs, wants to sink back against the heat of his body; she just knows how comforting it would be, how safe she would feel. Instead, she turns and smiles softly.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” They hold eye contact for a moment, and then Emily appears at her side, making a face like she knows she’s interrupting something.

“Ready to get going?” she asks, handing Sophie’s duffle bag over to Aaron. “I’m going to stop at home and then I’ll head to your place.”

“Absolutely. Thank you, Emily,” Sophie says sincerely, stepping forward to pull her into a tight hug. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I hope I remember more about you soon.”

“I’m happy I could be here, and I know you will. Just give it some time.” She pats her on the back, and then leaves the room.

Aaron carries her bag and leads her out to the parking garage, toward a standard federal issued SUV, and he opens the door for her, closes it behind her with a gentle smile.

Time to go home.

Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x original female character #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner/original female character #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader

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thejudgingtrash · 5 years ago

Note

Annabeth is a good person,but not a nice or pleasant one,IMO.

YES.

That’s it. That’s the post. Pack it up everybody, we just cracked the case and cleared up one of the most compelling fights in the PJO fandom since forever. Good job everybody, clap it out and there’s the door! Don’t forget ordering the drinks at Starbucks, Mitch! They’re on me!

Okay, but on a more serious note: YES. YES EXACTLY.

And before some of you roll your eyes or grab your pitchforks – put your biases aside and hear me out for once. I like Annabeth. She’s my in my top three characters only second to Percy himself. I love Percabeth. It’s my favorite ship in the entire series and to be frank, the only ship that I care about PJO wise. Hell, I spend my time creating my own headcanons or writing my own fanfics with Percabeth being the star in them.

But that is not to say that I’m unable to see how certain things have developed over the years or where they stand now in regard to Annabeth. I’m not here to ignore things that have been said and/or done due to or in the name of Annabeth and I’m not here to vilify anyone that doesn’t like her. And I’m here to admit that I’m guilty of some of the things that may be addressed in this meta essay that you will read in just a second. However, I try my best to assure you, that I’m for once able to recognize my own bias.

Warning: a monster essay lies right upon you.

This should count as a paper of its own.

Back to the statement on top: I would go out even further to reframe your claim, anon:

Annabeth Chase is a good character but not a nice or pleasant person.

Annabeth is a wonderful character but she isn’t a nice one. Or at least not nice to everyone. She is (construction wise if I dare say) the best character out of the series. She has her positive traits (she’s caring, she’s emotional, she’s encouraged and volunteers, she fights for what she believes in, she forgives (even if doing so begrudgingly)) but she also has her negative traits (she’s stubborn, she’s brash, changing her mind takes forever, she is prejudiced, she baits others). That balances things out. She is branded as the intelligent kid but does irrational things (like I’ve just said a) she’s a kid and b) she’s not a robot). She should probably know better, but we all make mistakes and hopefully grow and learn from them. The clouds in the sky do blur and cover our visions sometimes.

Annabeth had clashes with other characters or was about to have fights due to her stubbornness or jealousy (Rachel, Reyna, etc.) and has of course her problems with the mortal world and her family but she also found new friends, some things cleared up throughout the narration and she was/is quite popular in Camp Half-Blood.

The thing is: she doesn’t have to be nice or pleasant (as a character). Or at least not all the time. Her character is humanized. That is what or who she is. Human. She does stand out as a character, not just because she’s the (future) love interest. She feels like someone you could meet in real life and either adore from the top to the bottom or declare as your biggest enemy. And that’s totally okay if you lean either way – liking or disliking her. Or even feeling indifferent about her. Also great!

To say that she has been the best character that Riordan has crafted is easy to say, because she has been sculpted after Riordan’s wife. He had a model he could rub some of real-life events or traits on. That’s not the problem. The problem truly doesn’t lie on Riordan’s side for the most part for once.

The problem is inherently on the fandom’s side. What the fandom does, how it acts and how it treats Annabeth as a character is the problem. The problems vary but it’s mostly the mischaracterization of Annabeth, starting fights and fan/ship wars, internalized misogyny (in some cases) and how some of the Annabeth stans lash out (ha, got firsthand experience in that field among many of my friends and mutuals!). There is a reason why many people are wary of people that have Annabeth or Percabeth related URLs.

The fact that we see Annabeth mostly through Percy’s lens and (until the Heroes of Olympus saga hits) we never really see her in chill everyday situations is essentially Riordan leaving the back door of the house open, ready for all of you asshats to rob his mansion in Boston. Because a frame on a character means that we don’t get to see the character in its entirety (unlike we do with Percy in PJO for the most part). That means a bunch of stuff is left open for interpretation which is the reason why Annabeth gets so many polarized headcanon and opinions tossed around. I think that is one of the true appeals of Annabeth. You can add on stuff and it necessarily doesn’t have to contradict itself.

We have people calling her abusive due to a (n admittedly stupid and unnecessary) judo flip and we have people that act like she’s never done anything wrong. People sorta use this excuse to form and shape Annabeth however they want and distort her characterization.

People in the fandom act like Annabeth is some weird prized possession. We perceive Annabeth mostly through the eyes of others (Percy, Apollo, etc.) and when we had some sort of insight in her ways (MOA, HOH) it felt… weird? Somewhat? Like Riordan left two bullet points of her characterization and told the ghostwriter: aight, fuck it up, gringo, see you on Tuesday and greet Fred the next time you see him for me.

There have been many posts lately (by Tharini, Simi, Sawasawako, Jewishpercy and Annie I believe?) that HOO Percabeth felt weird. That they felt weirdly constructed, that there was no conflict, no growth. It felt stagnating, like we’re turning back. We had five books prior where we had Annabeth and Percy slowly shifting from disliking to liking and crushing each other. True development. And when we finally got the cake it felt… dissatisfying. Like the cheap box stuff and not the delicious exquisite taste that we were promised.

I said it previously in my Percabeth ship roast, but let me repeat myself: many Percabeth related things are straight up fanon. Some of it is very old fanon so that’s been unable to distinguish unless you’ve read the books recently and subtract nearly 99,9% of things you see on Tumblr (and occasionally the other shitty parts of the fandom like Reddit, IG, Twitter. Although they mostly steal and recycle tumblr stuff oh well. But back to the topic).

The way people treat Annabeth is so strange. She’s either an innocent fluffy smush baby that’s never harmed a fly and all that she wants for Christmas is being Percy’s lapdog or she’s the devil incarnate, broke into your house, killed your parents Batman style, kicked your puppy and didn’t flush the toilet on the way out. I think this is what mostly makes people hate her or the ship Percabeth. And both extremes are wrong and right at the same time? She is multifaceted so both stereotypes are true and untrue and sorta cancel each other out in the same way.

The true reason why people dislike Annabeth is because the stans are doing the most. (The haters as well, don’t get me wrong, but oh boy. Piss of a stan and you’ll know what I mean). That isn’t inherently new. Are you guys old enough to remember the ship wars that have happened cross platform? Perachel vs. Percabeth? Oh boy, oh boy. I saw some kids on tumblr a few months ago trying to infiltrate both tags and start shit (and also fail). The fact that Rachel still gets used as the bitchy (ex) girlfriend in fanfics? It’s 2020 guys. I know this apocalyptic year is far from perfect and over but I think we can let this trope die, right? Right? I thought we’ve established that Rachel is a pretty chill charcter by now… right?

If you posted your stuff on FFN back in 2010-2013 and it wasn’t the typical cutesy Percabeth story (Goode High, the gods read TLT, punk/prep Percabeth, college AU, etc.) people would’ve come for your fucking throat. Not because the story or the narration was shit. But because the pairing wasn’t Annabeth and Percy (in the sense that Annabeth had to be paired with Percy. I mean Percy gets shipped with everyone and their mother but for Annabeth it was strictly Percy. As annoying as this whole Connabeth thing is – the people behind it actually had a point. She never had a different love interest unless it’s a Percy centered story and he goes off dating Athena, Artemis and Zoe at the same time for some odd reason. Yeah, FFN Percy ships are something). Or it wasn’t the action filled canon compliant story or it wasn’t an AU that was popular.

People were really stubborn, snobbish and wanted their stuff in the four five boxes that were the most popular ones and that’s it. People have been bullied off the site in many fandoms, so it’s not a PJO-only thing but it’s still sad that it happened. (Off-note: most of these FFN tropes are still alive and well and thriving on AO3. Don’t be so snobbish and pretend that every piece you’d find there is a holy grail. There’s a lot of trash you have to waddle through. Same with Wattpad, Tumblr or anywhere else where fanfics get posted. Also had this discussion with Annabeth stans. Sigh).

And Tumblr back then? Forget it, wasn’t much better.

That view has sorta changed (at least for people that have been in the fandom for several years or have managed to find a way to navigate through it) but some of the negative sentiment from back in the day has survived. Be it by new fans coming in or from old fans that never let their stance die. The aggression feels differently and somewhat not. (I don’t know if the anon function had been abused that much back in the day. I was an observer not a participant in the fandom).

Crack a joke at Annabeth’s expense (Kal’s famous “Annabeth is a Republican” post or Dee Dee’s and many others “Annabeth has the education of a second grader, chill with the college plans, girlie” stance) and you have people insulting you, making callout posts, unfollowing and blocking you (based on only that? Okay, honey), making aggressive counter-posts, etc. in a minute. If you respond with “It’s a joke, it’s not real” you have a 50/50 chance of either getting blown off or embarrassing them so that they apologize for once.

This isn’t just about jokes. You can make a headcanon that’s not the cozy cute convenient mainstream saga and people would react the same way. Or art piece (no, not including the whole Tannabeth Blackchase shtick done by Viria and others) or fanfics.

People project so much onto the unfinished canvas that is Annabeth Chase that any form of negative sentiment as little as someone not liking her to straight up criticism, regardless of how tiny it may be, seems like an affront. Like an invitation to a fight. Like an insult to them, their character, everything they believe in. Let me state something:

You are NOT Annabeth Chase. Annabeth Chase IS NOT you. Annabeth Chase is NOT real. Her feeling cannot be hurt. Someone criticizing, disliking, joking about her or even insulting her will not bother her. Someone making a statement about her is not an insult to YOU.

Let me repeat that:

Annabeth Chase isn’t real. Annabeth Chase isn’t you.

So think a little before you act? I get it when you’re a kid and new to fandoms or haven’t been up with fan cultures in the past and are back in the scene. But if you’re in your late teens or even older as an adult and you’re unable to understand that you aren’t what you like – you aren’t the extension of a fictional character – I feel incredibly sorry for you. Because that’s just incredibly sad. Someone disliking something you like isn’t an attack of your character. It shows you that you are you and the other person is a human just like you. That they just have different taste. Disliking something you like isn’t a crime, you know? But me feeling sorry for the way some of y’all act won’t mean that that’s even remotely okay. Especially if you’re no longer in the intended audience for PJO age wise and should know better.

This isn’t a “white stans” only thing. I’ve seen and witnessed firsthand how people of color, mainly women of color, act the same or not even worse when it comes to her character. People have projected their problems and real-life occurring events into her character (I’m sure that she isn’t the only character nor that this is the only fandom where this is happening) and in some cases like I’ve said cannot separate their own personality from the fictional world. Fights with woc happened because of Annabeth fucking Chase. So many things have happened in the fandom the past few months, mostly due to people being forced staying at home because of the quarantine but I’d say it’s 10% on quarantine and 90% on people for acting up like this.

So here’s a little story: There was the act of Riordan blowing the fandom up because of his own stupidity and being unable to apologize for his mischaracterization and lack of research (the whole Piper fiasco) back in June (?) and admits the upset fandom, people on Twitter, Tumblr and Discord legit thought that none of that mattered and that the outcry was destroying Annabeth Chase’s birthday. That’s right. People thought that Annabeth Chase’s non-existing birthday because she’s a fictional character had a higher priority than the rupture and prevalent racism in the fandom. Okay. This isn’t a great look, Annabeth stans. And this of course pissed a lot of people off. I made a post about it and someone not only berated three other people on said post but no, we had a mighty argument which had disrupted many friendships in our circle which haven’t recovered until this very day. We both had our parts in it and no one is innocent. But the cause of this still remains Annabeth Chase or how people prioritize her non-existing well-being. Anyway. I’m getting agitated just thinking about it.

Let’s go back to the characterization thing with Annabeth. Let me remind you:

Annabeth Chase is an asshole. There I’ve said it in a post ages ago (too lazy to look it up, sorry) and I’ll say it again. And that’s not me insulting her. That’s me actually loving that about her. Annabeth is one of the very few unapologetic female characters that really showed all young readers across the world that you can be a girl, a badass, smart, strong, standing up for yourself and what you believe in. You don’t have to be nice. You don’t have to hide your feelings. You don’t need a man in all cases but it’s also okay to accept help and defeat.

A large reason why I think she’s an incredibly important character in children’s literature/YA because many other novels (mostly (sadly)) have the “Oh, I’m a white skinny dark-haired girl that likes unconventional things like READING. I’m not like the other girls, that take care of themselves and pamper themselves by enjoying shopping and wearing make-up. No, I’d rather be one of the boys but a sweet cute little boy and not the jock fuck that drank vodka shots out of a filthy shoe once. Despite me calling myself hideous every man in a 10-kilometer radius falls in love with me and tells me I’m oh so sexy and by the way I’m only 16 years old” shit going on for no goddamn reason.

Yes, I do blame Twilight for this mostly in recent years, but this trope isn’t by any means knew. Pretty sure that you could even use classics as Pride and Prejudice and dissect them in the same manner (Bold statement: Lizzy Bennet is the OG Bella Swan. There. Go fight somewhere in the corner, people). The new wave of YA focuses on girls belittling themselves and only starting to believe in themselves because someone else (mostly the male love interest) tells them they’re worth it. And these books hit the mainstream because they’re incredibly bland and picture perfect white.

With Annabeth it’s different. She shows up for the job and is done with it. (Brie Larson would probably be the perfect in real life version of her. You either like or dislike her. Or you really don’t care). That is what is so refreshing about her. Her unapologetic nature. Can it be off-putting? Yes. Is it annoying? Yes! Hell, every time I read The Lightning Thief, I want to rip her goddamn head off. And it’s just so well written. Her shift from mistrusting Percy but secretly still believing in him to her opening up. Wow, Riordan did something right there.

Annabeth Chase isn’t a young character. She has existed along with PJO for 15 years. She’s on her way to the second decade. I’m pretty sure that with the success of Percy Jackson (and Harry Potter) many lives have been warped and shaped.

But when I say the problem lies mostly in the fandom, it doesn’t mean that Riordan’s completely innocent. The only problem that I have with Annabeth lies not truly with her but the fact that Riordan is only able to produce three variations of female characters:

The sweetheart (Hazel, Silena, Calypso, Hestia)

The strong feminist (Annabeth, Piper, Thalia, Reyna, Artemis)

The bitch (Drew, nearly every female goddess in the goddamn Riordanverse next to every female monster)

And these female characters only know three endings:

End up married with a mortgage, three kids, two dogs and a cat somewhere in Connecticut by the age of twelve

Get dumped into the hunt

Chill on Mount Olympus and only come down to be a nuisance and/or give a cryptic message before going back and doing a godly rave party or something

We know Annabeth as the badass strong female first (or the bitchy character we’re supposed to actually like. Choose your approach), the blueprint so to speak, so some of the other characters feel almost pale in comparison and almost not needed? Doesn’t mean that other characters can’t behave similarly, but it feels kind of redundant especially if their character arcs end in a rather anticlimactic way (Thalia, Reyna). The new additions are the much needed woc as the main story with PJO was inherently white (anyway stan black!Percy and Grover, folks). So it’s not to bash on the new characters, it’s more Riordan’s fault more than anything.

Since Riordan only knows three female character arcs it feels like he tried to copy the formula several ways with different nuances. Some more or less successful. This is where fandom actually comes in handy and helps create more distinguished and fleshed out characters in form of headcanons or fanfiction.

But even in these cases people still make it about Annabeth when it’s time for characters of colors to shine. Remember that whole spiel and discussion that broke out when people (Kal, diver-up, Caitlyn, Bee, reynaisalesbian, etc.) joked about or criticized that Annabeth thinks that she’s having it harder because she’s a blonde? In front of Hazel and Piper? If she would’ve been a real person that’s an invitation for getting decked. And then all hell broke loose because Annabeth stans couldn’t accept the fact that in the real world and/or in fictional worlds the woc/coc have it harder? That the white woman wasn’t the victim that needed the coddling? Yeah, that was mad pathetic.

I hope you people get my point?

Well fuck. I wrote so many things and have the feeling I’ve said nothing. Anyway, I hope I made sense. This is way too long.

TLDR: Chill about Annabeth please. She’s an important character but that doesn’t mean that everyone has to like her, regardless of being a character in the books or a reader/fan of PJO in real life. She isn’t nice or a sweetheart all the time. She also isn’t the monstrous asshole that some try to make out of her.

Peace out.

#Mel answers #pjo #percy jackson #Annabeth chase #percy jackson and the olympians #Percabeth #pjo Meta #Heroes of olympus #hoo #trials of apollo #toa #hazel levesque #piper mclean #reyna avila ramirez arellano #rachel elizabeth dare #pjo fandom #coc #rick riordan #riordanverse

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