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pberrry · 2 years ago

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drunk! rick sanchez x (afab) saed! reader

TW: SA

basis of the fic is reader was saed as a child, significantly affecting reader’s ability to have an intimate relationship with anyone

sorry if this is formatted weird i have no idea how to post on tumblr

disclaimer this is in no way meant to romanticize sa! all i hope to do is bring comfort to those who have been victim to it. my condolences to anyone who is unfortunate enough to have experienced this, and please don’t hesitate to reach out to someone if you are currently suffering from abuse!

“Y-blueeergh—Y/n!” Rick spouted, droplets of an alcohol and spit mixture escaping from his mouth.

“What, Rick?” you hesitantly looked over at the drunk Rick.

“I’m- I’m so fffucking drunk right now, Y/n. I- I might shit my pants, I might do it” He belched.

“That’s- that’s interesting, Rick. Thank you for that information,”

“Y-yyea, Y/n,”

Silence spread throughout the room, though the intoxicating smell of alcohol remained.

“What- whatchya’ working on, Y/n?” Rick questioned as he stumbled his way to your desk.

“Just, uh, nothing. Nothing that’d you be interested in, I guess,” you responded.

“Are- are you fffucking kidding me? Let me s-see,”

You shuffled out of the way, giving Rick a clear view of your desktop screen. He gave a slow nod of approval, though he could barely register the words on the headache-inducing screen.

“Y/n. Say- say something funny. You’re funny, Y/n. Haaahahh,” he drunkenly rambled.

“Rick, I think- I think it’s time for you to go to bed,”

You began to push Rick out the door, using the sheer force of your weight to guide Rick’s drunken body.

“What the- what the fuck are you d-OOuhing?”

Instead of responding to his question, you carefully placed his arms around your neck. His place on the ground, balanced, now became completely dependent on you. Slowly, you began to walk towards his bed. His head lay atop yours. You tipped him over, allowing him to fall onto the bed.

“C-come on, Y/n. Lay- buUUrrrrgh- lay with me,” Rick requested.

“What?” you questioned, dumbfounded by Rick’s new, undiscovered affection.

“It- it’s alright, baby,”

The pet name was completely unfamiliar to you, and it send uncomfortable shivers down your spine.

“Rick, you’re drunk,”

“YeAAh, I fffucking know,” he replied hastily.

He grabbed hold of your wrist, sending your body into a state of shock and repressed memories. You feebly attempted to pull your hand back.

“G-God, Y/n, why so- blueergh- tense?”

Though he was ludicrously drunk, his sense of empathy was still intact.

“What’s- what’s wrong, what’s up with you?” He inquired.

“Nothing? What’s- what’s up with you?” You stammered nervously.

“No, no- something’s definitely- blueergh- up with you right now,” he insisted.

You uncomfortably avoided his gaze.

“Y/n, s-sweetie, what’s the problem?”

He propped himself up using your shoulder. He towered over you.

“Rick, seriously just- just go to bed,” you prompted.

“But- Euuurrhhhg- but- Y/n, I want you first,”

You stayed silent for a second, unknowing of how to respond to his rather seductive-sounding statement.

“Huh? What do you mean?” you said as you stepped backwards hesitantly.

“I- I mean I want you, Y/n. I want- I want you, you- blueerrgh- you fucking dumbass, Y/n,”

“Rick, you’re drunk. Just lay down, I’ll get you a cup of water or something,” you insisted, still strategically avoiding his gaze.

He groaned in response.

“You- you can never catch a fucking hint, Y/n. God,” he complained.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” you replied.

“I’ve done- blueerrgh- everything, Y/n. I’ve hit on you so many t-times you- you fucking moron. I even told you directly,” he said.

“Rick, I- I don’t know if I can,”

“Why- why the fuck not?”

“I don’t know,” you explained, half-assedly.

“What the- blueeegrh- fuck type of explanation is that?”

“Fuck, Rick, use your context clues or something,” you sighed, having already given up on having a sensible conversation.

“Alright, Y/n, we- we can do this later. Just- just lay with me, we don’t have to- bleeurgh- do anything,” Rick requested in a soft tone.

“Okay, okay,” you hesitantly accepted.

You climbed into the bed, feeling Rick’s tall presence beside you. He carefully slid his arms by your side, pulling you closer. Your tired body quickly became known to you again.

“God-bueeerrghhahh-damn angel cakes, you smell like fucking heaaaven,” Rick whispered, almost to himself.

You gave a tired giggle before instantaneously finding sleep in the tempting comfortability of Rick’s mattress.

timeskip the next morning

The faint sound of rustling beside you disturbed your peace of mind, allowing reality to seep into your head. You rubbed your fatigued eyes, slowly opening them. Rick stood there, staring strangely at you. It was more a look of agitation than curiosity.

“Mind telling me why the fuck you’re in my bed?”

“Wh- what? I don’t know,” you replied groggily.

Your memories came flooding back to you. The memory of Rick admitting he wanted you was one of the first memories to find it’s way back.

“Eurrgh- I remember now,” you said.

“What? Remember what?” Rick interrogated.

“God, nothing. Don’t worry about it,” you said, your morning fatigue still affecting your mood.

You had to admit, it was a bit strange to be around Rick after that. It also gave you a strangely familiar feeling of uneasiness. You hopped out of the bed, starting out of the bedroom. You abruptly stopped and turned to face Rick.

“Rick, do you remember last night? At all?”

“No. Fuck, have I ever remembered a blackout, Y/n?” He retorted with an agitated tone.

“That’s good,” you said in reply.

“…What? What the- blueerrgh- fuck do you mean ‘that’s good’?” Rick questioned.

You shrugged and continued on your way out the door.

another timeskip yea

Rick hastily made his way to the couch, where you lay napping. He transmitted himself into your brain, where he could view all your past memories. He started, of course, with the previous night. He found himself cringing at his own half-assed ‘confession’. Succumbing to his curiosity, he found himself going deeper into your memories. He had unknowingly found the “repressed memories” section of your brain.

Rick left your brain in dismay. A sudden understanding washed over him, and a feeling of guilt with it. He shook you awake gently.

“H- blueeerrgh- hey Y/n, I was about to get some ice cream from the Gloppydrop System, you- you should come with. If you want, I- I don’t care,” he said, grabbing his portal gun nonchalantly.

“Yea, I guess I’ll tag along… if you want,” you agreed, rubbing your eyes.

“O- eurrrrgh- okay. Hurry your ass up,”

PART TWO! https://www.tumblr.com/pberrry/738532284773384192/part-2

feel free to send fanfic ideas

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #rick sanchez x reader #x reader #fanfic #kind of angsty #light angst #sweet #rick prime #morty smith

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seenoversundown · 3 months ago

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Amongst The Stars: Chapter Six

Josh x Quinn (Nonbinary OC)

Warnings: Shitty Partner (are you shocked?), Craig is Stupid (and we don’t respect him), Mentions of Alcohol, Verbal fighting, Medieval Nicknames, Pining Friendly Care and Concern for your Friends, Almost being injured with a knife.

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: Josh has always loved love, and he's finally found it. Buuuut, he can't exactly tell anyone. Join him as he navigates the ins and outs of his sweet, secret romance.

Author's Note: This, THIS, is one of the chapters I have been most excited for you all to read. So strap in babies, the story is really getting started now. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. And, as always; our Quinn is a ray of sunlight and Craig is a stinky loser. Alsooooooo — Sorry for any weird formatting issues, I had to post this from my phone because the desktop site wouldn’t let me post 🤨🥲 (I’ll eventually reformat it once the site figures it out)

"But I wish there was somethin' you would do or say To try and make me change my mind and stay" Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right - Bob Dylan

I walk into the apartment and hear Craig banging pots and pans around in the kitchen. He’s mad again. He’s been in a constant state of anger since he found me talking to Josh in the craft store. The anger had been an issue for longer, but it has worsened since that day. He’s been picking random fights over the most minor things. Everything from him not having enough clean socks to my “slamming” the door while he’s trying to nap.

“Hey babe, I’m only here for a little bit. I’m going to stay with Willa tonight. She needs an extra set of hands for a new project,” I yell out, making my way to the bedroom to pack a bag.

I hear Craig stop banging around in the kitchen. I listen, bracing myself for a fight, as he stomps through the apartment behind me.

“Oh yeah? And why can’t she find a different friend to help?” Craig grits out through clenched teeth.

“She could. But she doesn’t want to, and that’s valid.”

“You are always so worried about everyone else but me. And I really don’t think that’s fair to our relationship.”

“What does that even mean?” I’m starting to get angry at this point. All I do, day in and day out, is ensure that our life together runs smoothly. I pick his groceries up. I let him use my car so he can do whatever he does while I’m working to pay our bills.

“I just think it’s interesting that you met that guy from the craft store, and now you hardly want to be in the same room as me.”

“You’re being an asshole because you’re… jealous?” I huff out a humorless chuckle.

“I mean, I guess? You seem to loooove talking to him while I’m stuck here begging to see you in your spare time.” He slams his hand against the door frame. I roll my eyes at his little outburst and continue shoving clothes into my overnight bag.

“Good job, Detective Craig, you caught me! I’m in love with Josh. Head over heels for a man I’ve only spoken with at his job!” I watch his eyes darken with rage as I add a sarcastic round of applause. I’m far too annoyed with him to stop myself from pushing his buttons even more. If he wants to fight, we can fucking fight.

“I uprooted my entire life back home for you, Quinn. I packed up everything I own, threw my entire life in the back of a moving truck, and moved here with you. I did that, and you’re laughing at me?”

“Of course I am laughing at you. You’re being absurd.”

“I’m being absurd?! I didn’t realize it was absurd to want to spend time with your partner.”

“It’s absurd that you’re mad at me over the manager of the store where I get art supplies. It’s absurd that you’re turning this all into a pity party for yourself. It’s absurd that I’ve wasted the last 20 minutes arguing with you when Willa needs my help.”

“It’s absurd that we’re arguing and you’re worried about your friends.”

“I didn’t start the argument, bud. I was content to pack my bag and head out, but you wanted to make it a thing.” I sling my packed bag over my shoulder and walk to the bedroom door as Craig steps in the way to block my path.

“Get out of my way, Craig.”

“If you step outside this house right now, I honestly don’t know where that will leave us.”

“I guess we’ll figure it out later, then.” I duck under his arm and make my way to the front door, grabbing my keys and storming out the door.

I hop in my car and text Willa, letting her know I am on my way. I spent the short drive contemplating the state of my relationship with Craig. Where does he get off acting like I am the problem here? I spend almost every waking moment doing things for him. I do his laundry; I cook his meals; I don’t even care that he doesn’t have a job. I let so much of his bullshit slide. But he treats me like I’m doing something wrong because I want to hang out with my friends. Because I talk to a guy who works at the craft store? When it gets down to it, our relationship isn’t working right now. But, then again, it hasn’t been working for a while. The Josh Thing is just the icing on top of the cake. He has always been jealous and suspicious of me leaning on people besides him. He still sometimes questions my closeness with Willa. He knows we have been best friends for years, way longer than I've known him, yet he is still suspicious.

I slam my car in park once I’m outside of Willa’s apartment complex. I take a few moments to collect myself. I know that it won’t matter, though. I am rarely sad or upset, but when I am, Willa can sniff it out like a bloodhound. She’s always had the unique ability to see directly through me, which is why we’re so close. I walk up to her front door and unlock it with the spare key she gave me the first day she moved in. When I open the door, I am immediately hit with the scent of Willa’s signature sage and citrus candle. I swear she has one burning 24/7, and, at this point, her emotional support candle is becoming mine. I immediately feel myself calm down as I breathe it in.

“Honey, I’m home!” I yell out, setting my bag down in the foyer.

“In the Kitchen!”

I step through the apartment, making my way to the kitchen. I stop in the living room to survey the Throw Pillow situation. Willa thrives in a comfortable space, so I swear there’s at least one new pillow every time I drop by. I stop at her gallery wall next. I let out a soft chuckle, remembering the time that she asked if she wanted me to alter any of the photos from before I came out. “I can photoshop your head or something, but I look good; I can’t just take them down”

This was always her excuse, but it’s because those photos were from easier times. They held a sense of nostalgia for both of us, and neither one of us wanted them taken down. They were photos from our time in college. They were from well before Craig blew into my life, causing issues between Willa and me. It does warm my heart knowing that I still hold so much space on her gallery wall, even after the small wedge he’s driven between us.

I finally walk into the kitchen and see her standing before her table. There is an explosion of flowers surrounding various crystals laid across the table. On the floor next to her, there’s a box of other witchy-looking supplies

“What are you working on tonight?”

“Freelance gig for that new occult shop, Garden’s Gate. They asked if I’d photograph products for their website.” She glances up and hands me a large, white piece of cardboard.

“I need your help nailing this lighting real quick. I’m trying to go for a more whimsigoth feel, but the lighting is too harsh without the bounce board.” I nod my head and pretend I understand what I’m doing. Photography was never my forte.

“And don’t think I’ll forget that look on your face. We will be discussing whatever Craig did once I have this shot.” She quirks an eyebrow at me, then directs me to hold the bounce board in front of her lighting rig. After Willa finishes the product shoot, she finally looks at me. I heave out a sigh, not ready to have this conversation and sit down at the kitchen table. She heads to the fridge and pulls out two hard ciders. Cracking them both open, she sits across from me at the table.

“So, spill.” She says softly.

“Craig and I might be done. I was so mean to him when I got home…” I trail off, hoping she won’t make me spill all the dirty details.

“Mhm…” She waves her hand, motioning for me to continue.

I suck in a deep breath and begin recounting the events of the evening. I try to avoid eye contact with Willa throughout my spiel. Instead, I focus on peeling the label off of my bottle. I avoid eye contact because I already know how she looks at me. Anger in her eyes, a bit of pity. I don’t need pity; I know the situation is messed up. When I finish, I finally look up and meet her eyes across the table.

“Quinn, you know you can’t let him treat you that way, right?” She questions softly, as if trying to lessen the blow of what I already know.

“I know, but I was horrible right back at him tonight.”

“You were horrible to him because he has been horrible to you, and you hit your breaking point. Anyone would do the same. Hell, I’ve acted way worse for way less reason,“she begins to laugh at herself, “Actually, on second thought, I’m not the greatest barometer for anger management.”

I bark out a laugh with her. She’s not wrong; she has one of the shortest and most explosive fuses I’ve ever seen on a person.

“That’s all besides the point. What you need to consider is, yeah, you were horrible to Craig. But, the way you spoke to him doesn’t reflect who you are as a person, and he brought that out in you.”

I’m quiet for a second as I mull everything over. Craig did give up so much for me, for us. But I don't think I can continue living like this. I don’t like the person I was with him tonight. I don’t like that he has the ability to bring that out in me. I don’t appreciate the jealousy that he harbors. That jealousy has led to so much distrust between us throughout the years.

“I have to break up with him,” I sigh, “This hasn’t been working, and I don’t see it getting better any time soon. Especially if he’s gonna throw Josh in my face.”

“I’m not agreeing with him, but you have been talking about Josh a lot. Got anything else you want to share?” Willa looks at me, eyes alight with mischief.

I groan, rubbing my hands down my face.

“Not you, too. Josh is an acquaintance. I’ve seen him once outside of the craft store, and it was by accident.”

“Whatever you say, babes!” She laughs before continuing, “But really, if you doooo break up with Craig… I’ve been thinking about getting a roommate.”

“It can be like college! No pesky boys stirring up trouble, just us hanging out.”

“I do like the sound of that, Quinny.”

I wake up early the following day, feelings weighing heavily on my chest. It’s a strange mixture of excitement and dread. The excitement makes me feel worse; I am about to ruin my long-term partner’s day. I should not feel giddy in any sense, and yet. I stretch my limbs as I stand up from the couch and begin my trek to the kitchen for something to drink.

“Good morning!” Willa startles me as I turn into the kitchen. She shoves a freshly poured cup of coffee into my hands.

“‘Morning, Wills,” I grunt as I take a sip from my mug. Of course, Willa made it just how I like it: 2 sugars and a bit of oat milk. I close my eyes and feel the caffeine coursing through my bloodstream, waking my brain.

“Are we making boys cry today?” Willa asks, with a bit too much glee for the hour.

“Please, try to sound at least a little bit upset about the disintegration of my relationship.”

“Are we making boys cry today?” She tries again, this time adding an exaggerated frown.

“I am making a boy cry today. You are welcome to tag along and sit in the car.”

She rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at me, “You’re no fun!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna get dressed, and you ought to do the same if you want to come.”

—————————————————

Willa and I pass the time on the drive over to my apartment by figuring out what I am going to tell Craig. We both know that this will not end happily. Craig will turn it into a situation just like he does everything else. This is why I ultimately decided to allow Willa to come up with me. There is strength in numbers, and Craig is less likely to cause a scene or do something entirely inappropriate if there is a witness. We trudge up the stairs to the second-floor apartment I share with Craig, and I turn to face Willa before unlocking the door.

Willa pulls me into a bear hug, “I know this seems complicated, but you're doing the right thing. I am so proud of you.”

I choke up a bit, then lean deeper into the hug. “Thank you.”

We stand like that for a moment, sharing each other's love and energy, before I turn back and unlock the door. It's quiet as we enter the house. I walk into the living room to find Craig passed out on the couch with his Xbox controller and several empty beer bottles strewn haphazardly around him. God, it's a good thing Willa decided to come in with me. He can be an absolute toad when he’s hungover. Though, I guess that shouldn't be shocking, considering he is a toad 75% of the time now.

“Hey, can you head to my room and start packing some of my stuff while I deal with this?” I ask in a hushed voice.

Even if Craig deserves to be woken up, I don't want Willa to face any of his ire.

“Sure thing, Quinny. Is there anything you want in particular?”

“Just clothes for a few days until I can secure a truck to move the rest of it, I guess.”

As she retreats further into the apartment, I walk over to the couch. I can't help the feelings of disgust that wash over me, seeing Craig in this state. Typically, I wouldn't care about this; everyone has a rough night every now and then. However, Craig’s lousy night was of his own making. He chose this, so he gets no sympathy from me— no sympathy as I turn the bright overhead lights on. Not an ounce of pity from me as I connect to our Bluetooth speaker and begin blasting some generic Top 40 pop at full volume. Absolutely no compassion as I bring the trash can from the kitchen into the living room and start forcefully throwing his spent bottles into it. Content with my somewhat dramatic display, I glance at Craig and see him stirring. He cracks one eyeball open and levels me with a glare.

“Can you shut that shit off?” he growls at me.

“Oh good! You’re up,” I innocently bat my eyes at him, “I think we need to have a conversation, dear.”

“What on earth could we have to talk about at —” he cuts himself off to check the time, “7:30 in the fucking morning?”

Before I can answer, a big thump followed by a pained howl sounds from our bedroom.

“What was that?” Craig narrows his eyes at me.

I shrug, unwilling to give up Willa’s spot so soon. The likelihood of Craig actually getting up to check in his current state is extremely low.

“What. Was. That?!” He grits out more forcefully, finally sitting up.

Before I have time to shrug again, Willa pops her head out of the bedroom and shoots me a smug wink. I brace myself, knowing that whatever she’s about to say is guaranteed to piss him off.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Greg… it's just little old me.”

I struggle to hold in a slight chuckle, watching as realization dawns on Craig’s face. He whips his head around to catch a glimpse of Willa’s shit-eating grin before she “disappears” back into the room. I know she’s standing just out of sight but still close enough to eavesdrop.

“What are you doing in my house, Willa?” he yells after her.

“I dunno pal, why don't you ask Quinny?” she sing-songs back at him, riling him up even more.

Craig lets out an exasperated sigh, “Quinn. You said we need to talk?”

I nod my head.

“K, so start talking.”

I close my eyes and suck in a deep, grounding breath.

“Willa is here because she is helping me pack some of my things up.” I raise my eyebrows at him, silently begging him to get the point.

“Uh… why are you doing that?”

“Because I’m moving out, Craig.” He meets my eyes with a look of confusion.

He truly never was the smartest, but I was hoping he’d be able to put two and two together. Unfortunately not.

“I’m breaking up with you,” I spit out quickly, “and I am moving in with Willa,” I add more pointedly.

I can see the wheels finally start turning in his head.

“You’re breaking up with me… for Willa?”

Willa lets out an unhinged cackle from the bedroom, and I hear her muffled voice say something that sounds a lot like “moron.” My patience is hanging on by a thread at this point, but I continue.

“No, Craig. I’m breaking up with you because you drive me insane. You constantly pick fights with me, you’re jealous, you turn me into someone I’m not.” I take a breath, proud of myself for working up the courage to be direct. “That fight we had last night was my final straw. You told me that if I went to Willa’s, you didn't know where that would leave us. Well, I do know where that leaves us. We’re done.”

“You don't get to make this choice for us.”

Willa pops back out of the room, “Yeah, they do, asshole!”

“Stay out of this,” Craig warns.

“Or what? We all know you'll keep yourself planted right where you're at. You’re not going to stop me from talking, you're not going to stop Quinn from ending this, and you're certainly not going to stop us from walking out the door once I’m done in here!”

In this moment, I am once again reminded of the sheer love and respect I have for Willa. She has been there for me, and she makes it a point to prove that she will continue to be there for me. It dawns on me that this is the type of care and respect I deserve in all of my relationships, and I won't accept anything less from now on.

“Hey,” I snap my fingers to get Craig’s attention, “we are having a conversation, not you and Willa.”

“B-but! She! She started it,” Craig sputters out.

“Doesn’t matter. The point is - did you see what just happened? Where Willa came to my defense? You don’t do that; you never have, and I’m over it! I deserve to be treated like a PARTNER, like a HUMAN. And instead, you treat me like some robot maid! You only care about your quality of life, and mine comes second. I’m tired of not being first in your mind because you have ALWAYS been first in mine.” My voice cracks. I don't want to cry, but I can feel it coming.

“You can’t leave me. How am I supposed to pay for the apartment on my own?”

Absolute blind rage courses through me, overtaking the tears that were threatening to fall, as I lunge for one of the throw pillows he must have knocked onto the floor in his drunken state last night. I clutch it tight to my chest for a second, begging my anger to subside.

“Did you hear me, Quinn? Or do you just not care?”

I finally snap. I rear my arm and full-force chuck the pillow at his head, watching his arms flail as he tries to catch it. He fails, and it hits its mark with a satisfying slap.

“No, CRAIG, I don't care,” I hold up a hand and begin counting his options off on my fingers,” Get a job… get a roommate… crawl back home to your mother. The choice is yours! Leave me out of it.”

Willa clears her throat and stands beside me, grabbing my hand.

“Ready to go?” She asks gently, sensing that I’m about to break. I nod my head, and she begins pulling me toward the front door. As we head out the door, I turn back to look at Craig, “I’ll reach out when I’m ready to pick up the rest of my stuff.”

—————————————————

Willa graciously carries my bag into the - our - apartment and sets it in the spare room. I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest.

“Thank you, madam!” I say in my best Knight impression

“Of course, my liege,” she curtseys, “I’m just happy to have you here, Quinny.”

I pull her in for another quick hug to show my appreciation without having to vocalize it. My emotional battery is almost depleted after my conversation with Craig. When I pull back, I see the devious smirk on Willa’s face, and I know she’s going to bring up The Pillow Incident that she absolutely watched from the corner before getting me out of there.

“Can we talk about what a little badass you are? THE PILLOW? I didn't think you had it in you!” She lets out a little giggle.

“Honestly, not one of my finest moments. But it seemed to get the point through his thick skull.”

“Oh, don't sell yourself short. I think it was a wonderful moment. Fucker had it coming. He’s lucky it was from you, not me.”

I check the time, ignoring her dramatics.

“Do you want brunch? I’ll cook since I’m sure your guard dog duties wore you out.”

“Oh! A lovely idea. I’ll run out and grab stuff for mimosas?”

“Day drinking almost sounds better than brunch if I can be honest.” I chuckle and head into the kitchen as Willa makes her way out the door.

I pop in my headphones and start cooking. I let myself get lost in the monotony of cutting vegetables and cracking eggs.

As I’m chopping away, I find my thoughts wandering back to Josh. My little sunshine incarnate friend from the craft store. The one who listens when I speak. The one who cares and asks me about the projects I’m working on. The one who takes 3 seconds to ask me how my week has been. The poor guy who doesn’t even know he was the final straw in my relationship cracking apart. Not that it’s his fault that Craig doesn’t understand how friendships work. Part of me wishes I had some excuse to go see him. As helpful as Willa is, she’s been anti-Craig since before we even made our relationship official and can hardly go a moment without insulting him. Which is understandable, but that same part of me that wants to make an excuse to go to see him also knows that Josh would be able to soothe me in a way she can’t. That part of me knows that seeing his stupid little dimpled smile would cheer me up. The knife clatters out of my hand when I run that back in my head and realize what I’ve been thinking about.

Willa pops up behind me at the counter, “Careful, butterfingers. Don’t wanna have to drive you to the ER.”

“Jesus CHRIST, Willa,” I shriek, slapping my clean hand to my chest, “When did you get back?”

“Five or so minutes ago, you’ve just been in your own little world, and I didn’t want to bother you.”

I feel a blush creep to the tops of my cheeks. Had I really been that lost in thought about Josh?

“Well, now that you’ve nearly given me a heart attack, do you think you could make me a mimosa? Omelets will be up in about 15.”

“Anything for you, my dear!”

As I place my pan on the stove and begin heating it, I vow to stop thinking about Stock Boy for the rest of the day. After all, Willa is right. With the day I’ve already had, the last thing I need is a trip to the ER.

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krscblw · 6 months ago

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Ministry Perfume Associations

I’m back yet again with more thoughts about Ghost and perfume! This time it’s fragrances from my own collection that remind me of various places in my headcanon of the Ministry. (Usually these lists are mostly made up of perfumes that I don’t actually have, but this time I can vouch for all of these! I didn’t include any that I thought weren’t good.)

For the sake of organization these are divided into places in the New Wing (the most recent addition to the Ministry), the Old Wing (the original Ministry buildings), and the grounds (gardens, forests, etc). And as always, if you have your own thoughts or want me to do more of this, please let me know! I would love to talk more about Ghost and perfume.

(also: so sorry for the weird formatting, idk how to fix it on mobile but it should be fine on desktop)

New Wing:

Library: old books, wood, dust, paper, ink

The library is part of the New Wing of the Ministry, although it’s not very new anymore. Built in the early 1900s, the New Wing is all soaring ceilings, stained glass windows, and intricate woodworking, done in the Art Nouveau style of the time. The library’s floor-to-ceiling shelves are full of books ranging from ancient esoteric tomes to modern fiction paperbacks, interspersed with desks and secluded reading nooks. The library also houses the Ministry’s private collection of artifacts - some occasionally used for ritual purposes, some purely academic in nature. The library is always very still, with the occasional susurrus of turning pages and quiet voices. It smells like polished wood, faint dust, and the leather and paper of old books.

Library Ghost - Poesie

marshmallows, books, ink, polished wood

Myself Invisible - Poesie

stacked books, spilled ink, black tea, violets

Bibliotheca - Alkemia

leather-bound books, vintage vinyl records, mahogany, fountain pen ink, black tea, plum brandy

Canoodling in the Library - Nui Cobalt

old books, mahogany shelves, fallen leaves, ancient stone stairs, amber resin, warm skin musk, vetiver

Miskatonic University - Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

irish coffee, dusty tomes, polished oakwood halls

Personal Quarters: carved wood furniture, tea and coffee, soft bedding, books and clutter, spices, vanilla

The personal quarters are also in the New Wing, separated into human quarters and ghoul quarters (for everyone’s comfort and safety). The personal quarters tend to feel very cozy and lived-in, as they are the rooms most frequently used. The furniture is comfortable, often occupied by off-duty siblings or ghouls, and the arch windows overlooking the gardens and forest cast soft beams of light onto the wood floors in the afternoon. The siblings’ quarters tend to smell like the possessions of those who occupy them - books, scented candles, tea and coffee, and faint spices from the small kitchen. The ghouls’ quarters are similar, but with the scents of various elements - smoke, greenery, damp stone, fresh air, resin.

Mysterious Fossils - Poesie

smoked black tea with creamy vanilla oat milk, a cashmere sweater, tortoiseshell glasses, a cedar chest containing fossils encased in amber, sandstone, and limestone

Whisper Your Bitter Things - Poesie

pressed coffee beans, dried clove bud and cassia bark, jasmine, neroli, roasted vanilla pods

Grey Cat - Nui Cobalt

smoked vanilla, marshmallows, fresh blueberries, lavender, earl grey tea

Kensington - Fantome

earl grey tea, cashmere, vanilla bean, cedar, rose petals, mandarin zest, pink peppercorn, bergamot

Ouija - Possets

cedar, rosewood, black vanilla, fat vanilla, rose, black silk, coriander

Our Days Bewitched - PULP Fragrance

walnuts, brandy, roasted cocoa beans, copal, cardamom, labdanum, black vanilla, aged oak barrels

Old Wing:

Chapel: resinous incense, polished wood, wine, smoke

The chapel is part of the Old Wing. The exact dates of its construction could probably be found somewhere in the Ministry’s records, but the gothic architecture suggests it’s been there for at least 500 years. The cold grandeur of the exterior’s intricate stonework and vibrant stained glass windows is matched in the chapel. It is perpetually cold, made fully of elaborately carved stone, and colorful sunlight filters through the enormous stained glass windows onto the altar and the pews. The heavy, still air smells like residual incense smoke, snuffled candles, fragrant wood, and ritual wine.

Holy Terror - Arcana Wildcraft

burning frankincense, sandalwood, myrrh, dusty beeswax candles

Anastasia the Patrician* - Deconstructing Eden

paper, ink, frankincense, myrrh, benzoin, copal, rose, juniper berries, wine

Leo* - Deconstructing Eden

frankincense, myrrh, benzoin, amber, liatrix, blood cedar, blond tobacco absolute, sweet spices, honey

Parlour - Fantome

mahogany, rosewood, burning incense, vetiver

*i think these were discontinued? sorry

Crypt: cold damp stone, smoke, dust, ashes

The crypt is the only place in the Ministry that truly reflects its age. It feels like it has been standing, underground, inhabited only by the dead, for hundreds of years. It’s well-maintained, but perpetually freezing cold and slightly damp. The stone walls are minimally decorated, and the candles in their niches do very little to illuminate the cavernous space. The air is weighty, and all sound is muffled. The crypt smells like damp stone, cold air, sweet dust, and smoke.

Gargoyle - Nui Cobalt

rain, lavender, cathedral incense, beeswax candles, ancient stone

Summoning/Ritual Chambers: cold stone, ritual incense, blood, wine, smoke

The ritual chambers are where summonings and rituals are performed. They are where every new ghoul comes into the world, and, more rarely, where they’re banished from it. The walls and floor are stone, and there are no windows. When in use, the chambers are lit by dozens of flickering candles, some in sconces, some piled onto tables, and years of melted wax have created puddles and formations on the walls and floor. The air is dense, thick with dust, herb smoke, ritual incense, and the scent of dried blood.

Baba Yaga - Fantome

black and red musk, smoke, cracked bones, cardamom, wood, animal skins, mugwort

Conjure - Solstice Scents

vanilla, amber, cedar, spices, cauldron smoke

Gothique - Alkemia

frankincense, styrax benzoin, myrrh, cassia, spikenard, canella, liquidambar orientalis, labdanum, atlas cedar, vetiver

A City on Fire - Imaginary Authors

cade oil, spikenard, cardamom, clearwood, dark berries, labdanum, a burnt match

Vassago - Fantome

A silver dagger, red wine, blackberries, cloves, orange peel, blood, a black mirror

Grounds:

Gardens: dirt, greenery, sun, fruit, flowers

The Ministry sits on a huge expanse of land. Most of it is still wild and forested, but there is a good amount of it dedicated to gardens, both decorative and functional.

Decorative Gardens:

The decorative gardens are lush and heavy with flowers and fresh greenery most of the year, tended to by the Earth ghouls. Some of them are small cloistered gardens, decorated with statues and fountains, and some are larger, intended for gatherings or wandering alone. The decorative gardens tend to smell like fragrant herbs and flowers - sweet jasmine and magnolia, heavy white lilies and heirloom roses.

Basilica - Milano Fragranze

thyme, rosemary, incense, milk, labdanum, cedarwood, cypriol oil

Fox in the Flowerbed - Imaginary Authors

jasmine, tulips, frankincense, wildflower honey, pink peppercorns, silver thistle, alpine air

Isabella - Possets

rose, light resin, white tea, honey, cream musk, spices

Olwyn - Fantome

magnolia blossoms, white lilies, jasmine, gardenia, buttery vanilla, myrrh, benzoin, orange blossom

Silver Narcissus - Possets

silver base, narcissus

Functional Gardens:

The functional gardens supply the flowers for decoration within the Ministry as well as the herbs and most of the produce for the kitchens. The gardens, orchards, and greenhouses are managed by the Earth ghouls, and yield so much produce that, despite the relatively small size of the gardens and the relatively large size of the Ministry, they still end up with extra. That surplus is sold at the local farmers’ market to unsuspecting humans who wonder in open amazement about the size and quality of this mysterious farm’s produce.

Sundrunk - Imaginary Authors

neroli, rhubarb, honeysuckle, rose water, orange zest

Drider Crossing Guard - Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

dry, earthy fig, black pepper, nutmeg, black plum tea

Wilcox’s - Solstice Scents

dry woods, fresh herbs, dried herbs, warm spices, sweet annie, sage, rosewood

Lake: water, trees, evergreens, greenery, stone

The Ministry’s lake is very deep, cold, and still. It’s objectively beautiful, with its glassy blue-gray waters and lush vegetation, but something about it feels dangerous. The pebbled shores are visited only by the bravest siblings, and even then only on the hottest and most desperate of summer days. The water ghouls, on the other hand, love it (which is possibly why the siblings tend to stay away). It is located at the border between the new and old forests, and its mossy banks are surrounded by evergreens, ferns, and rushes. It smells green and a little salty.

Villa Diodati - Poesie

wild rosemary, balsam pine, crystal clear lakewater, dry, dark vanilla

Every Storm a Serenade - Imaginary Authors

danish spruce, eucalyptus, vetiver, calone, ambergris, baltic sea mist

The Forest: trees, dirt, damp air, greenery, wildflowers, fungi

New Forest:

The new forest is a nickname given to the shallow edges of the forest that are closest to the Ministry. The trees are widely spaced, and the ground is thickly carpeted with grasses and wildflowers. Sunlight filters easily through the sparse leaf canopy and illuminates the fallen logs and patches of moss that make popular spots for siblings and ghouls looking to unwind. The air is light, and the breeze carries with it the scent of fresh greenery, tree sap, and sweet flowers.

Cape Heartache - Imaginary Authors

douglas fir, pine resin, western hemlock, vanilla leaf, strawberry, old growth, mountain fog

Dendrophilia - Nui Cobalt

moss-covered deadfall, birchwood and pine, lingering resins, sunlight through the leaves, a trace of woodsmoke, faint vetiver and cedar

Duende - Fantome

oakmoss, cedar, fir, labdanum, benzoin, tree sap, wild violets, lilac

Solovey - Fantome

black amber, violets, black currants, espresso, labdanum, black agarwood, tobacco

Old Forest:

If you go far enough into the new forest, you will eventually get to the old forest. The trees are bigger and closer together, the sunlight struggles to reach the ground, and there are more mushrooms than flowers. The air is damp and cool and smells like fungus, loam, and rotting leaves. The old forest is avoided by siblings both because of the unsettling watched feeling any human who enters feels and the unspoken knowledge that if you don’t come back out no one will go looking for you.

Gaea - Alkemia

forest loam, ferns, decaying leaves, lichen, wet stones

Dies Irae - Possets

black musk, fog, bitter galbanum, hawthorn, rotting leaves, orris, smoky oude, frankincense, black amber

Feuillemort - Alkemia

dying leaves, smoked autumnal spices, dried grasses and fungi, Tibetan incense, cedarwood, rum soaked agarwood, and borneol

Samhain - Haus of Gloi

freshly turned earth, wet leaves, cold wind

if you made it this far 1) thank you lol and 2) i hope you enjoyed! if you have your own thoughts i would love to hear them!

#the band ghost #ghost bc #perfume thoughts #ghoul perfume thoughts #ministry headcanons #ghost band headcanons

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sequinsmile-x · 2 years ago

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The Way Home - Chapter 20

A fresh start. That’s what she needed. Not the turn of a page, or a new chapter, but a brand new book.

She left everything behind, and just hoped that she had better things ahead.

A Hotchniss College AU

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: This chapter contains brief references to miscarriage

Full list of warnings and previous chapters can be found on the Series Master List

-x-

I just wanted to take a moment to say thank you to everyone who has read, interacted and enjoyed this fic. It’s been so much fun to write, but I’m never quite sure how an AU will land, so thank you, THANK YOU, for all your love and support for this version of them.

A special thanks to @ssa-sparks, @hancydrewfan, and @prentissinred who have all let me just talk at them about this fic for MONTHS. You are all just the best and I couldn’t do it without you.

And also thank you to @cloudlessly-light for helping me figure out what to do with Emily’s career in this!

I hope you all enjoy this last chapter! <3

(Sorry if tumblr is being weird on desktop with the formatting- it's fine on mobile <3)

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Summer 2006 - Arlington, VA

Emily groans as she lifts a box onto the kitchen table, smiling at the photo on top. It was from her and Aaron’s first holiday season as a couple. The photo was taken Christmas Eve, the day they’d had Jack, the little boy squished between them and his smile wide.

“Emily, I can’t find my tie.”

She shakes her head. He certainly wasn’t little anymore.

“It’s down here sweetie,” she replies, shouting up the stairs, “Where you left it last night.”

She hears the familiar footfall of her step-son as he runs down the stairs. She can’t help but smile when he comes into view, his nerves evident in the way he held himself, his shoulders tense. He smiles sheepishly at her as he grabs the tie off of the back of one of the chairs at the kitchen counter.

“Thanks, Emily,” he says, looking at the box she has in front of her and noticing it’s full of his things, “Keen to get rid of me?”

She narrows her eyes at him, her glare only making his smile wider. “Of course not,” she says, “But moving sucks and you have two houses with your stuff in, moving to college is hard enough as it is so I thought I’d get a head start.”

“You’re very good at packing,” Jack comments as he roots through the box, “I forgot I’d need some of this.”

She hums as she smiles at him, “Moving as much as I did when I was a kid has its benefits.”

He chuckles, and looks around the kitchen, “Where’s Dad?”

“He had to go into the office, he’s just finished that big case so had some files to submit, but he’ll be back soon I promise. He wouldn’t miss today for the world.” She assures him, squeezing his arm.

It was strange sometimes, to think that the little boy she met had grown into this young man next to her. He was taller than her now, the same height as his father. He towered over Haley, something that he took great joy in reminding her of frequently.

“I’m glad he won,” Jack says, opening the fridge door, always on the hunt for food, “Because it was on TV it would have been embarrassing if he hadn’t.”

Emily laughs at the typical teenage reaction, “And, you know, a serial killer has been sent to prison for the rest of his life.”

Jack shrugs his shoulders, “That too.”

After Emily graduated from college her and Aaron, alongside Haley and Jack, moved to DC, a return home for all of them that suited them well.

Over the years, Aaron worked his way up to state prosecutor, a job that kept him busy but that he enjoyed. A goal he had set himself during the trial against Ian for his attempt on Emily’s life, wanting to help people the way that prosecutor had helped Emily. Finally getting her justice after she’d been so let down by the system previously.

It was a big part of her decision to be in the system herself. Social work had never been something she would have considered before everything with Ian, but it was the only thing that felt right afterwards. Her natural empathy and her talent for picking up languages made her a popular choice, and she now worked for the state, creating and maintaining policies that would have protected her when she was younger.

Their friends often joked that they were a power couple, and that no criminal in the DC area had a chance with them around.

The sound of a door opening cuts off any further conversation, the thundering of tiny feet on the upstairs landing and then the stairs themselves making both Emily and Jack smile.

“Here comes trouble,” Emily comments, winking at the teenager before turning to look at her daughter as she runs at her at full speed, catching the four-year-old and lifting her onto her hip before she could crash into her legs, “Morning Ellie.”

“G’Morning Mama.”

Eleanor Grace Hotchner was, according to Aaron, 100% Emily. He often joked that he wondered if he’d been involved in the process at all, or if Emily had somehow cloned herself. Their little girl her double in just about every way.

“You sleep ok?” Emily asks, pressing a series of kisses to the little girl's cheek, laughing as Eleanor leans away from her slightly, a smile on her face as she nods.

“Jack’s big day!”

Emily looks over at Jack, who was halfway through eating a handful of dry cereal he’d clearly found in the pantry.

“Yes sweetie, it’s Jack’s graduation today,” she says, kissing her daughter on her head before she passes her over to Jack, her eyebrow raised as she takes the cereal box from him, “Why don’t you two go sit down and watch TV, and I’ll get your dad to make us all breakfast when he gets here.”

Jack holds Eleanor close, their bond something that had been instantaneous since he first held her, despite their 14-year age gap. He bounces her on his hip, making her laugh as he leaves the kitchen.

“Come on Elly Elephant,” he says, making her giggle, “Let's go watch some cartoons.”

Emily shakes her head as she watches her children go, sighing as she once again laments how quickly the years had gone by.

___

“Em, we have five minutes and then we have to go.”

Emily rolls her eyes at her husband’s insistent tone, opening the door to their ensuite to find him standing just on the other side, his hands on his hips. She walks out to the bedroom to join him, finishing clipping on the earring she had been adjusting.

“Honey, we’re fine. The school is 10 minutes away at most. The ceremony doesn’t start for another hour,” she turns so her back is facing him, and he wordlessly zips up her dress for her, his fingers sliding up her spine in a way she knew was unnecessary. She turns to look at him, smiling as she loops her arms around his neck, “We definitely don’t have time for that though.”

Aaron smiles at her as he pulls her closer, his hands on her lower back. He leans down and kisses her, his lips gentle against hers.

“Later?” He asks, and her smile widens before she leans in to kiss him again.

“Later,” she confirms, pulling back to look at him, her fingers idly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as she cups his cheek with her other hand. “You ok?”

Aaron sighs, his lips in a tight smile as he nods. He wraps his hand around her wrist, his thumb rubbing at the thin scar she had there, a reminder of the surgery she’d had to fix it, of the metal that laid just beneath the surface. She often wondered if the way it would ache in the cold was a phantom memory, her brain remembering how it felt when he’d slammed it into the wall, his hand tight around her throat.

Sometimes she still woke up and could feel that too. Only brought back to the present by her husband, the way he would invade all of her senses. Make her forget that she’d ever been touched by someone else.

She had a lot of scars from that time, the one on her wrist just happened to be the only visible one.

“Yeah, I am. I just can’t believe he’s graduating high school,” he replies. It was strange to think that Jack was now only a couple of years younger than he and Haley had been when they had him. The years had passed by faster than he’d anticipated, and sometimes he missed the days when Jack was young and hung on his every word. “It feels like only yesterday he wanted to ask you to be his girlfriend.”

Emily laughs, “I know honey,” she replies, her fingers trailing through his hair, “But Harvard isn’t that far away, and you know he’ll come back as often as he can,” she smirks at him, “He’ll miss Haley’s cooking too much.”

He chuckles, “Speaking of which, don’t think I didn’t notice one of her lasagnes in the fridge.”

“She offered,” she shrugs, “You know she can’t say no to Ellie.”

Haley was without a doubt one of Eleanor’s favourite people, a connection that hadn’t surprised any of them. She was a fixture in their lives, and only lived a couple of streets away. After she’d saved Emily’s life, purely by being in the right place at the right time, they’d become friends, and she’d even come to their wedding.

It was odd, sometimes, for Aaron to remember that Haley was once someone he thought he would spend his life with. Even stranger again to think that, in some way, he had, just not as his partner as he would have once thought.

“At least Ellie will still be here for a long time,” Aaron grumbles, the mere thought of his little girl being old enough to graduate high school when she was only just about to start kindergarten in the fall enough to make him frown, “And any others we might have.”

Emily’s smile falters slightly, a common reaction when he brought up the prospect of other children. Eleanor hadn’t been their first pregnancy or even their second. The two losses they’d gone through before still made her sad when she thought about them, pre-emptive grief at the thought of going through it again enough to make her wonder if she even wanted to try. Until she had Eleanor she was convinced what had happened in Rome had caused long-term damage, and had cried herself to sleep in Aaron’s arms more than once. Begging for forgiveness he would not give her because she had nothing to be sorry for.

She loved Eleanor with every part of her, but pregnancy had been rough on Emily. Her sickness, which could only be remedied by some specific chewing gum that Haley had recommended, mixed with her constant anxiety that something would go wrong had meant it wasn’t enjoyable at all.

She wanted another child and had dreams of a little boy that was the perfect mix of her and Aaron, but the fear choked her and made her freeze every time he mentioned it.

“Aaron-”

He leans forward and kisses her cheek, his hold on her briefly tightening, “I know love,” he says, kissing her again, “At your pace, ok?”

She nods against him, pulling back and offering him a shaky smile, “We should get going.”

Aaron smiles at her and links his hand through hers, leading her out of their room and down the stairs. As they approach the living room, they hear the tv is on, the news clearly on the screen.

“George Foyet was charged with 12 counts of murder, but state prosecutor Aaron Hotchner claims he may have killed up to 36-”

“Jack,” Aaron says, catching his son’s attention from his cell phone and tilting his head towards Eleanor who was playing with her toy dinosaurs, “Please turn that off.”

Jack looks between his little sister and the tv, cursing under his breath as he grabs for the remote and turns it off. “Sorry, Dad.”

“It’s ok,” Aaron says, checking his watch, “We really should get going.”

Emily detaches herself from her husband and walks over to Eleanor, “Come on sweet girl,” she says, smiling at her, “Let's go.”

Eleanor stands up, one of her dinosaurs still in one hand, and grabs her mother’s hand with the other.

“Aunt Haley’s there?” She asks, her excitement clear.

“Yes baby,” Aaron replies, opening the front door, sharing a smile with his wife, “Aunt Haley is there.”

“Then let’s go!” Eleanor demands, pulling Emily towards the front door.

Emily laughs, gladly following her daughter, “You heard the girl,” she looks at Jack, sees the nerves on his face that she had seen the first thing that morning again, and she reaches for his hand too, linked in between them both, “Come on sweetie, the sooner we go, the sooner we’ll be home.”

It was a mantra she’d shared with him since he was small and she first found her footing in his life. It was something she’d said to him to get him through dentist appointments, or visits to the doctor. His first day at his new school when they moved to DC. Their home, and the one he had at Haley’s, his safe space.

“Yeah,” Jack smiles, squeezing his stepmother’s hand, turning and smiling at his father as he places a hand on his shoulder, “We’ll be home soon.”

___

Red Onion State Prison, VA

He was counting down the days, every day of his sentence seemingly longer than the last. It had been almost 13 years and he still had 7 left until he would even be considered for parole.

Each day, he hated her a little more. He could feel it consume him, overtake the place he once felt love for his son who now called another man daddy, his conviction of attempted murder enough to make Chloe take him from him entirely.

There’s rapping on the cell bars, and he looks up, smirking at the guard he hated almost as much as he hated her.

“Doyle,” the guard sneers, stepping aside so a man in an orange jumpsuit can step into the cell, meet your new cellmate.” He steps back, pulling the bars back across and smiling at them from the other side. “Get to know each other, you’ll both be here a while.”

Ian watches as he walks away before looking back at his new cellmate. The man was tall, skinny and had shaved his head, and he wonders what on earth this man could have done to end up in a high security prison, looking on the surface of it incapable of a crime that would have landed him here.

Then his eyes meet his, and he sees it, the same fury he feels, anger that nowhere to go, and he smiles.

“Doyle, is it?” The man says, offering him his hand.

“Ian Doyle,” he replies, shaking his hand. “And you?”

The man smiles, clearly amused by the fact he didn’t know his name.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ian. I’m George Foyet.”

-x-

The Way Home’s sequel, Home, is coming soon in January 2023

Tag list:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @sneetchestoo, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex

Join my tag list here!

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #aaron x emily #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss

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scealaiscoite · 2 years ago

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hi there! i don't wanna sound weird or anything but i really like your blog! just curious though, how did you get your bio text to be so centered like that? like @_@ i've tried formatting my bio to look like that but it ends up sticking the lines together :(

tysm if you do decide to answer this hehe <33

dw this isn’t weird at all love!! i’m absolutely terrible at articulating myself so i’m sorry in advance if this is hard to read 😂

first thing i’d say to try and do is edit it on desktop (or if that’s not an option for you, using tumblr on the browser on your phone works equally well). the mobile app is, at any given time, a glitchy nightmare to use so that would be what i’d advise first.

if that doesn’t work and you’re still having problems with the lines not formatting correctly, i’d go back on mobile and try typing it in differently. what i mean is, instead of typing one line and pressing the return key to start a new one, type out all your lines of text together and once you’re done then go back and insert the spaces between them. that tends to work for me so i hope it’ll do the same for you!! xx

#*ೃ༄ ✉︎ ˚◞♡ ⃗

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mammonsite · 1 year ago

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byf / dni

byf:

before you interact with me, please remember that i am a minor! don’t be weird lol

while this is an obey me side blog, i might also talk about my other interests at times

not sure how formatting looks on desktop because i’m on mobile, so i’m sorry in advance if anything looks wonky on desktop

i’m just here to be silly and talk about my favorite game 🤭

dni:

if you’re homophobic, racist, ablest, etc.

fit the basic dni criteria

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bambi-kinos · 2 years ago

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May Pang documentary

So here’s the May Pang documentary: https://mega.nz/file/8TcBRYyS#oUe9s8vbAVOFXh_U9dmhDj4n2_Rpc5O4oYfwleJy1xY

It looks like shit and it includes shots of my desktop but when I tried to cut that stuff off I couldn’t save it in a playable format. I’m tired of messing with it so you’ll just have to do cope with it. Sorry about that.

Tribeca had some strong anti piracy measures I didn’t know how to get around so I had to record it via a third party watch party site which is why it has that weird frame around it. But the important part is that it’s watchable. We’ll have to wait for a proper streaming release/Blu-ray rip in order to get a copy that doesn’t look terrible.

#The Lost Weekend: A Love Story #lost weekend #john lennon #may pang #the beatles #paul mccartney #yoko ono

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avintagekiss24 · 4 years ago

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—belated; bucky barnes

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4738

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, rough sex, anal sex, biting kink, choking kink, spanking, pain kink, vaginal fingering, mean bucky (my fave), ring kink cuz i love it when boys wear rings

squares filled: @buckybarnesbingo Y3: Birthdays ; @badthingshappenbingo Biting ; @star-spangled-bingo N1: Taking Charge

request: bucky barnes + "pay attention to me or i'll make you" + anal + choking + spanking + biting + pain

author note: it's been foreverrrrr! i'm so sorry! i had to work myself through a little slump! hopefully this makes up for the almost two months we've gone without a fic! this is story #2 for my 5k celebration, all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. this was formatted in the beta text post editor on desktop, if anything looks weird, that's why :)

gif by @pedropcl ; line divider by @firefly-graphics

James Buchanan Barnes is possessive.

One of those massive hands around the back of your neck as you walk casually through the streets. Fingers wrapped around your wrist, or shoulder, or hip in a tight grip. He pulls you in close— right into his side as shopping bags hang from the tips of his metal fingers.

Bucky Barnes wants every man on the streets of Greece to know that you are his.

Not that you mind; quite the contrary. You just smile and giggle when he throws his heavy arm around your shoulders and hooks the crease of his arm right underneath your chin. Slip your hand into the back pocket of his loose dark jeans (giving that little tush of his a squeeze). Slink your arm around his little waist and breathe in his scent— heavy and woodsy— as the two of you stroll.

After all, he’s just as much yours as you are his.

All of his friends, Sam, Steve, Clint, all see the change in him. The little soft spot for you that blinds him entirely— turns him in a mushy puddle of emotions and puppies and rainbows. Very different from the Bucky they grew up with, but a Bucky that the three of them have come to enjoy. It’s a change of pace from the enforcer they know.

The two of you don’t talk about his work— in fact, it’s the reason why you’re in Greece to begin with. A late birthday present to make up for the fact that his “work” just happened to be the waiter at the restaurant he chose to take you to for your thirty second birthday. Come on babe, he chuckled as you scowled back at him over the rim of your wine glass, watching as he stained his white napkin red with his bloody knuckles, you know what they say, kill two birds with one stone… not funny?

Two weeks, two nonrefundable, open ended tickets, and five grand in bikinis, shorts, and shoes later, you’re getting some much needed Greek sun on your deep brown skin.

He’s even letting you call the shots for a change. Letting you wake him up at the ass crack of dawn to have breakfast— a spread of breads, cheeses and fruits on the balcony of your room as the sun rises. He doesn’t say a word as you drag him through the city, stopping at each little boutique and shoe store. Sits patiently as you try on every dress, every skirt, and every silk top in the entire country it seems.

Bucky even bit his lip as you gazed at engagement rings— hinting that princess cut is your favorite as you held your hand up into the natural sunlight as one adored your finger. Smiling over at him and wiggling your eyebrows all the while as he narrowed his eyes and plastered a fake smile on his face.

Today has been like all the others, a lazy day spent on the beach, a quick nap underneath an umbrella, a concoction of too much sun and too many margaritas going straight to your head. Now, you’re kinda sleepy and kinda drunk, but most importantly hungry— and Mykonos sounds like a great place for dinner. Despite Bucky’s objections (you’re too tired and too drunk to handle a ferry), you’re dressed in a cute little flowery sundress, him in an out-of-character white tank top, open pale blue and green striped button down and khaki chinos— you forbade him from bringing anything black— and you’re flip flops are slapping against the cobblestone street towards the ferry.

“Drop your attitude,” You say, glancing over your shoulder as he pays for your tickets, “You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, that excuse is wearing thin, girl.” You stumble a little with the motion of the ferry as you step onto it, having to grab onto the railing to steady yourself before Bucky grabs hold of your wrist, “Water only for the rest of the night.”

His voice is low and borderline threatening as he presses his lips right against your ear, and you know not to press him any further. You like to stick your toes right up against his line and that’s what irritates him most about you (always what he loves most), but you and he both know you’d never dare cross it.

Bucky pulls you behind him, hand around your wrist, that possessive trait rearing its head as male eyes fall on you as the two of you pass by. He finds an empty spot, away from the crowd, and plops down on the bench as you step up on the lower rung of the railing and stare out over the sea.

Within twenty or thirty minutes, the ferry pulls away from the dock and you can’t wipe the smile from your face. The sun sets off in the distance, the bright lights of the city turning into little pinpoints. Small droplets of the cool, salty water splashes up in your face as the wind and the ferry whips it up. You keep glancing down at the phone in your hand as you broadcast your current view to your instagram, laughing softly as hearts and emojis explode on your screen.

You lean forward, tilting your phone and smiling wide, waving into the camera before you shout out how much you love it here. The words are barely out of your mouth before an arm wraps around your middle, a wide, hard chest pressed into your back, “That’s enough,” he reaches with his metal arm, grabbing your phone, ending your live feed, “You’re too drunk to be hanging off the side like that.”

“I am not,” you struggle against him lightly as he sets you on your feet, “What is your problem?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“Well, duh. Why?”

He slips your phone into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest, sharp blue eyes piercing into yours, “Pay attention to me,” he says low, eyes dropping down your body real slow as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth, “Or I’ll make you.”

So that’s what it’s about. Bucky Barnes feels neglected between all the shopping and beach days and margaritas. Jealousy is cute on him.

The words though, they strike you right to your core— feel them down to your bones. A hard swallow pushes through your throat as your lips part, big brown eyes softening as your breath starts to rush a little harder. You hate to admit— not really— you love this Bucky. This is work Bucky, a man you rarely get to see. Slightly scary, anger brimming just below the surface. Jaw tight, eyes hard, head tilted just a bit. He’s menacing, and it makes your lips twitch into a small smile.

Shrugging defiantly, you cross your arms over your chest, “You didn’t pay much attention to me on my birthday.”

“Not true.”

“Not true?” you nearly shout, eyes going wide, “I ate alone while you beat the hell outta our waiter behind the building! I had to wait two hours for my slice of cake!”

“How is that my fault?”

You scoff, “Oh, I dunno, maybe because our waiter was spitting out his teeth in the alley out back— all thanks to you.”

“I have to work. You know that.”

“Not,” you hiss, “On my fucking birthday.”

He knows he’s wrong for that shit, so he stands there, huffing quick before he cocks his head again and just blinks back at you— unamused. He won’t apologize, it’s just not in his nature, but his usual attempts to make you happy after he’s fucked up aren’t working; so he’s at a loss.

And you’re enjoying that. A little too much if you ask him.

But alas, it’s not fun to fight on vacation, and you have taken far too many liberties when it comes to his tolerance for attitude. It’s been fun— and you’re just drunk enough to push him one last time.

You move slow, walking right up to him, so close that each inhale pushes your tits into his body. The smirk quirked up on your lips grows as you peer up at him, eyes bouncing between his as you place your hands on his forearms still crossed over his chest.

Bucky lifts his eyebrow as you push up on your tiptoes and push your chin forward to bring your lips close to his, “And just how are you gonna make me pay attention to you, James?”

He inhales deep, pushes it out real slow as he tilts his head even further. A smile spreads on his face and you just know that this is the last thing his work sees before he rearranges the bones of their face. This is exactly why his clients pay him as well as they do.

Thick fingers are wrapped around your wrist again, nails digging into your skin as he starts to pull you behind him. He weaves you through bodies, you nearly having to jog to keep up with his strides. Laughter bubbles up in your chest, a little shriek escaping as he pulls you down some stairs to the lower level of the ferry. Once your feet hit the last step, Bucky whips you around his body, sending you spinning and laughing until you bounce into an old, rusty metal barrel.

The smell of salt fills your nose and lungs as you inhale, covering your face with your hands. Your skin is hot, lips slightly numb as you dissolve into laughter again. He’s right, you’re a little too drunk for this.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be down here.” You mumble, brushing your wild hair out of your face.

“I could give a fuck,” he answers, stepping up to you, grabbing your face in his hands, “You’ve been testing me the entire time we’ve been here all over some stupid shit.”

Another giggle pushes through your lips as you bat your eyes, “I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky sucks his teeth as he drops his metal hand around your throat and squeezes gently, the rings on his fingers cool against your skin, “I was stupid, okay? But don’t put on that little innocent act, girl. You’re trying me, and I’ve had enough.”

A smile cracks onto your face, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You wrap both hands around his one wrist and slip them up his arm, feeling the soft metal as you continue to goad him, “You got some proof, big man?”

The tip of his black and gold thumb prods at your lip, pushes just inside. You wrap your tongue around it and suck gently, keeping your eyes on his all the while.

Bucky laughs, deep and earnestly, “Proof, she says. She needs proof.” He glances around before he spins you quick, facing you away from him as he lifts your dress to reveal your pink satin thong.

You squeal loud, pushing and slapping at his hand as he grabs a handful of your ass, “Bucky! There’s people!” you laugh, “Oh my god!”

“Keep your voice down,” he warns, wrapping his metal fingers around your throat again, “Understand?”

A jolt of electricity flashes through you as you wiggle in his grasp. He tightens his grip around your neck as you wrap your fingers around the edge of the barrel, swallowing hard.

“That requires an answer, honey.”

The chill in his voice, added with the slow circles and soft tickles of fingertips against the back of your naked thigh sends a pang through your belly, “I understand.”

He chuckles soft and with a quick peck on the cheek whispers, “Good girl.”

Bucky curls his left arm around your chest, hooking your chin in the crease of his arm as he grips your right shoulder. You grab on to it with both hands, out of instinct, eyes wide and skirting around for any signs of other human presence down here. Bucky turns, moving you with him to eye the steps quickly again before that flesh hand sweeps around to the front.

The soft material of your dress falls over his hand as he rubs your stomach— his rings catching and snagging your skin. That hand pushes downward, over your thighs, gripping and kneading the soft flesh before he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it upward, exposing those expensive panties again.

“Bucky,” you hum, his name trembling on your lips with the vibrations of your excitement, “Baby.”

He rucks your dress right up— right up around your waist and pulls the slack behind you, pressing his body into yours to keep it in place. The dark stubble adorning his cheeks and chin cuts into the side of your face as he nuzzles in, humming to himself soft before he kisses the corner of your mouth.

Those fingertips start to trace the hem of your thong— slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. From hip to hip. Your eyes flutter. Fingers grip the soft black metal of his arm a little harder. Legs go to jelly as another hard swallow passes through your throat.

“Ain’t got all that mouth now, do you?” He whispers, fingers slipping just inside the silk of your panties to tease the delicate skin underneath.

When he slips his hand in— all the way in— cupping hot skin, fingers dancing between folds and teasing a wet slit, an influx of air fills your lungs. A gasp, small and clipped sounds in the back of your throat as his fingers start a rhythm. You melt into him, head resting on his shoulder as your hips push forward to meet greedy fingers.

A naughty finger pushes in quick, and then a second— all the way to the black and silver rings dressed on them. His arm tightens around your neck as he presses his lips right against your ear, “You need to apologize.”

He fucks his fingers into you, withdrawing slow, and then pushing back in— each time the edges of his rings stopping him from going deeper. You can’t help but purr as you continue to grip his arm with both of your hands.

“I don’t think—“

“All I want to hear,” his words clip yours, each one slow and drawn and deep, “Is I’m sorry for testing your patience. I won’t do it again.” He curls his fingers, the pads stroking that sweet little spongey spot, making you clamp your legs closed around his hand, “Let me hear you.”

You can’t. You won’t. Too stubborn and too drunk to give in to him, wanting to win just this once.

If there’s one thing James Buchanan Barnes does not like, it’s hesitation. It’s dangerous, he always says. You think too long, you get hurt. Predators don’t hesitate.

Well, you like being his prey.

Only a few seconds pass before Bucky tuts in your ear, seemingly disappointed in your obstinate behavior, but you both know it’s just the opposite. His cock pressing into your ass tells you so.

The fingers disappear. The arm choking you just right pulls away and your dress falls back around the middle of your thighs. You huff, wiping quick at your forehead and pushing your wild, curly hair out of your face again.

Your hands find your hips in irritation but he slaps them away quick as he sucks his teeth, “You must really want this spanking, girl. Keep it up.”

That you do— keep it up. Huffing again. Crossing your arms over your chest like a petulant child. Brown eyes cut back at him over your shoulder to find sharp blues already on you. A smirk on his face.

Metal fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing you forward gently until your thighs press against the old metal barrel again.

“Lean forward, kitten.”

Voice as smooth as silk while you do so, gripping the rusted edges for balance. Your dress is yanked up again— rough this time— and twisted around his Vibranium hand. Then there’s warm, the warmth of skin against yours. Gentle brushes of fingers and a palm rubbing slow circles, then pinching and grabbing soft— prepping your skin for what’s to come.

He pauses for just a second, no doubt to scan your surroundings and then pulls his hand away. You lung forward with the slap he levels to your behind within a fraction of a second— the sound sharp and heavy.

There’s another, and then a third in quick succession before he’s massaging your skin again. Real soft and sweet. Tears burn at the back of your eyes at the sting that radiates through, all the way to your bones but the molten heat deep in your belly spreads like a fire. Each breath is hard and shaky, heart thumping against your chest but it’s so good.

Bucky switches to the other cheek, skilled fingers sweeping over your canvas of skin before he cracks you— one, two, three.

You squeal with each one. The thud of those heavy rings around his fingers send a quick, new shockwave every time, building on the one before it. The tips of your fingers go red from holding on to the rusty old barrel as tight as you are, but your brain? She’s fuzzy and warm, and drifting up into the clouds with each swift slap.

Bucky is a methodical man. Three for the right cheek, three for the left, three right in the middle. His hand sneaks around your hip, giving it a squeeze before it comes back around and drops to the inside of your thigh. Grabs the meat of it— digs his fingernails in just to hear you yelp. Cups your cunt in his palm, feeling the heat and the wet— makes him groan all low and dirty.

He bunches your hair in his hand, tugs you up by it. Spins you around to face him before hoisting you up and settling you on top of the barrel.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t you?” He growls, ripping at the button and zipper of his jeans.

You just hum in response, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your arms over his shoulders.

Bucky grabs your chin, forcing it up before he squeezes your cheeks, “Huh? Answer me.”

Damp eyelashes flutter as hot air escapes from parted, hot lips. He leans in real close, cock pushing right at your slit and kisses you hard as he slips his arm around your waist. He breaks away quick, sloppy and loud before pecking your lips once, twice, three times again.

“You want me to fuck you, girl?”

The weight of his words are felt right down to your core, a shiver passing between the two of you. You let your heavy head fall back and your eyes close as Bucky nuzzles into the side of your face, his pretty white teeth skipping along your neck, nipping and nibbling.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper after mere seconds, finally submitting in this cat and mouse game, “Bucky, please.”

That’s all he needs— all he wants. For you to submit, after letting you have the reins for one day too long. He sinks into you slow, spreading you open with each inch, biting down into the side of your neck as he bottoms out. His teeth dig in a little deeper, a little harder as he starts to move, rocking back and forth almost succinct with the waves of the water.

You’re moving with him too, meeting each of his thrusts with your hips. You keep your legs tight around his waist, feet dangling and bouncing against the back of his thighs. A trail of hot kisses are pressed along your neck and down your shoulder before traipsing back up— teeth grazing along your jaw.

Long fingers skip up your side and between your bouncing tits to only wrap around your neck again. They squeeze, gently, as his pace starts to pick up, hips shoving harder and faster— that old barrel starting to scrape against the wood floor.

The force makes you louder, moaning with abandon as if the two of you are all alone on this little ferry. Bucky makes quick work of you, shoving metal fingers into your mouth— giving you something to suck on to keep you quiet.

“That’s a good girl.” he growls, voice gritty and low.

He’s punishing after that. Each snap of his hips thrusting you backward, the barrel you’re on top of tipping back and then slapping down on the floor. You yelp with each one, your mouth going slack around his digits as your hands fall to the edges of the barrel for some semblance of balance.

It’s obscene, the way you can hear your fuck. The wet of your cunt. The squeak of his cock plunging into tight, slick muscles. The heavy thud of his hips pounding into yours. The slap of your flip flops falling to the wood floor as he’s quite literally fucked them right off of your feet. It’s filthy— crude— and so very Bucky.

You’re back on your feet before you know it— before you realize it. Spun back around, Bucky’s hard chest and stomach pressed into your back. He grabs both of your hands and places them back on the barrel, his metal hand staying on top of yours, fingers gripping fingers.

Eager hips wiggle back into his as you hiss and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, groaning low. Your head drops when you feel his cock push through your ass cheeks— wet cockhead pressing against your hot rim.

He starts to fumble around behind you, each passing second making you more and more impatient. There’s a soft click, and then a light suction sound— something squeezing.

“Bucky,” you hiss, pushing back into him again, “Hur—”

The word breaks off right in the middle as he levels a quick smack against your hip— a warning. Then your ass cheeks are pulled apart, wet, slimy fingers sliding and prodding at your quivering rim. He brushes slow strokes, circling, pressing his fingers gently as he preps your little hole for what’s to come.

“What kind of freak brings lube to dinner?” you smile, gasping as he pinches the inside of your thigh.

You lurch forward when he grabs the back of your neck and yanks you back into him, lips right against your cheek, “The kinda freak that was gonna fuck you in an alley after dinner. Now shut that mouth.”

He’s pressing again, this time harder, his cockhead popping into you with force. You grunt with the initial intrusion, Bucky stopping his assault to allow you time to adjust to him— but that doesn’t last long. Your mouth goes slack again. Eyes slam shut, head falls forward as he slips in, deeper and deeper and deeper until his stomach is flush with your ass.

He wiggles— so you can feel him, feel him tickling the deepest part of you. Slaps at your ass again, quick, fingers glancing off your skin and leaving behind a hell of a sting. Then he’s fucking you again, slower this time, savoring the tight, glove-like hold your body provides.

Metal fingers grab at the hem of your dress again, tugging it up before they push back into your panties, finding a swollen, hot nub. Pinching and rubbing smooth circles against it, flicking and thrashing at the bundle of nerves before he shoves his fingers back into your cunt. They curl, those fingers, and pet your insides with surgical precision— only James Buchanan Barnes knows how to fuck you like this.

The heel of his palm slams against your clit as he fingers you rough and fucks your ass with gusto. Sleazy sounds gurgle up in your throat, the slapping of skin and the waves crashing against the side of the ferry, the rush of the wind filling your ears. Bucky pulls you flush against him and slithers his tongue just beneath your ear before his teeth grab a hold, tugging soft.

Teeth keep nipping— along your jaw, your cheeks, ears, neck. He fucks into you hard as he shoves his flesh hand into the neckline of your dress, gripping your tits. Pinching and kneading hard, thick nipples, mumbling sweet nothings all the while.

Your stomach churns, muscles tensing and flexing as synapses start to fire off in quick succession. Quick goosebumps pop up along your skin as your stomach tightens and you can taste it it’s so close. Bucky knows it, feels it as your walls constrict around his fingers, your asshole tightening around him. Vibranium fingers keep rubbing, keep fucking into your pussy hard, palm slapping against your clit, adding more and more pressure until the coil snaps.

It’s hard, and sudden— your body freezing as your orgasm consumes you. Bucky clamps a wet hand over your mouth as you mewl and bite into his palm, your hips thrusting forward with each wave of your release. He pulls his fingers from you to slap at your jumping clit, pressing the pads into it before he rubs quick little circles and then slaps at it again.

He drops his hand to your chin, yanking it up as you nearly cry, mewling and trembling with your release to kiss you hard and sloppy as you come. He kneads your tits with his mammoth hand as aftershocks flash through you, your used body jerking at random. Within seconds, there's a cloud of warmth in your ass. Rough grunts in your ear, growing louder with each spurt of his cock, your hot muscles milking him.

You let him use you, let him fill you up full of his silk. Grab his hands and lace your fingers with his as he empties long ribbons in you. Pull his arms around your waist and hold them there as he rides it out, his head falling to your shoulder. The two of you stand there, resting against that old barrel, breathing hard, skin sticky and balmy. Salt from the ocean in your nose.

Bucky’s the first to pull away, glancing back at the stairs before he pulls himself gingerly from you, leaving your body empty, a dribble of his come slipping out with him. He catches it with his fingers, drags them up the back of your thigh and between your ass cheeks before he shrugs out of his collared shirt and white tank top.

He cleans you up sweet with the tank top. Keeps his arm around your waist to steady you as he wipes at your thighs and your hot, sticky, puffy cunt, shushing you soft when you jump and whimper at the contact. He flings the messy tank top over the side of the ferry and rubs your hips and stomach real slow, murmuring into your ear all the while.

Diligent fingers then rearrange your thong— and cop a little feel, cupping your sensitive, swollen sex, giving it a little pinch so he can laugh when you shiver and squeak. Bucky pulls your dress, tugging lightly to get it back straight around your waist before smoothing it over your ass and thighs— even pulls at the top, making sure your tits are sitting pretty.

You can’t even open your eyes, overcome by alcohol and sleepiness and a post sex high. He fumbles with your fingers as your head lulls on his shoulder, a soft hum vibrating in your throat in your murky haze. Bucky lifts your arm by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm until he’s cupping your hand in his.

“Open your eyes, baby.” You groan in protest, causing a chuckle to rumble through his chest, “Come on.”

So you do. You always do whatever this man wants you to do— and there, right on your finger sits that big princess cut engagement ring you teased him with days before.

“How about we skip dinner and find a church, huh?” he whispers, kissing your cheek soft and sweet.

You glance at him over your shoulder, eyes wet as a smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth, “And if I say no?”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He laughs as you adjust in his arms, pushing up on your tiptoes to cup his handsome face and kiss him on those pretty pink lips, “Then I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into that pretty mouth of yours, won’t I birthday girl?”

#bad things happen bingo #buckybarnesbingo2021 #ssb2021 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #5k...holy god

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handibrain · 3 years ago

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I made a Tricky x Reader!

Was originally for my friend but decided to flesh it out a bit more and post it.

I apologize if the formatting is a bit weird I’m uploading this from the app instead of desktop like usual-

Warnings: none

You walked down the flight of steps into the basement where you and Tricky lived, you both had been friends for a long while. When you first met you were raiding the same abandoned AAHW building he was, and for some reason that’s when your friendship blossomed, oddly enough.

Your footsteps echoed off of the narrow and dark stairway, noting how you should probably find some small lights to hang up. You kept walking until you made it to the main room. Tricky was sleeping on the torn up couch you both managed to drag down here. You guessed that Slaughter Time was playing on the TV, but was currently on some commercial about joining the AAHW. You didn’t listen to it but you did remember the voice of the person talking since enlistment took up 90% of all commercials, much to both of your distastes.

You turned off the TV and you felt Tricky wrap his arms around you and put his head on yours, whining softly as he snuggled into you.

“Sleep with clown.” He said lightly dragging you back to the couch.

“Alright, I’ll sleep with you.” You sighed, laying down with him.

He snuggled his face into your hair and emitted a low purring sound as he fell asleep again, and you were not far behind.

“Clown loves you.” He mumbled, his purring loudening.

“I love you too.” You mumbled a reply back, right on the cusp of sleep.

You woke up without the warmth surrounding you anymore, but you did have his torn lab coat around you. You snuggled into it and gave it a sniff. Now, contrary to belief, he actually smelt like a good combination of that coppery smell of coins and the cleanliness of a hospital. Occasionally he does reek of blood and death, but not that it matters right now.

You heard footsteps enter the living room and you looked over. Tricky was holding a paper plate of slightly burned toast, jumping a small bit when he saw you were awake.

“Sorry, clown didn’t mean to wake you.” He apologized, sitting down next to you.

“Clown- clown made you toast!” He said happily, holding the plate out towards you.

“Thanks.” You replied, taking the plate of toast.

As you ate he turned the TV back on, Slaughter Time was obviously playing on it.

You both laughed occasionally at a particularly gruesome or silly moment. Currently, you were both rooting for the one guy who was still alive hiding in a corner behind a dead body as a shield

It didn’t last long after your cheering died down that a Zed found him which caused him to run out and attract the others’ attention, which got him killed. Both of you playfully whined at the death.

When it went to commercial you finally got up to throw the plate away. When you came back, Tricky was splayed across the couch, a smug aura around him.

“Oh no, looks like you have to lay on clown again!” He laughed, making a ‘come here’ motion with his arms.

You laughed and laid on top of him. He wrapped his arms around you and snuggled into you again, like the night before.

“Clown has a question.” he stated pushing his head into yours for a second.

“What is it?” you replied, looking up at him.

“Last night, clown said he loved you and you said it back. Is it true? What you said?” he asked, a look of worry in his eyes.

On one hand, you would love to say yes. On the other, you did want him to deny it being romantic. You sighed and half buried your face into his chest before responding.

“Yes, and the romantic kind of love too. I under-” you began before he swiftly took you both off of the couch and spun around.

“YES!” he chanted over and over, spinning you around. He was unbelievably happy that you felt the same way as he did.

“Clown loves y/n too! Does this mean clown gets more cuddles too?” he asked, forehead on yours, giggling.

“Yes, definitely.” You responded, giving his nose a kiss, to which he buried his face in your neck, embarrassed.

#madness combat #madness combat x reader #tricky x reader #I know I added too many details for small things sue me #my writing

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kass-storycorner · 3 years ago

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I literally can’t sleep right now because I ate something ✨spicy✨ earlier and I shouldn’t have finished eating it after I noticed it that it was too spicy for my liking 🥲 (and knowing full well that my stomach can’t handle spice at all). But I was hungry and stupid and now I’m laying in bed with stomach ache and feeling sick… so I was inspired to write this (on my phone so the formatting is a bit weird). In those sense I am a Chongyun kinnie I guess. Now excuse me while I try to get a bit of sleep, I have therapy and work tomorrow and I really need a good nights rest for both.

Idea: Thoma invited you over to cook you dinner, but he underestimated how sensitive your stomach is (compared to his own… Thoma would probably eat the dubious meal from Botw without batting an eye)

Characters: Thoma x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

Content warning: mention of feeling sick, mentioning the preparations for vomiting, like getting a bucket etc. (but no actually vomiting takes place, this is the CN for all the other ppl out there like me who can’t deal with the topic very well), very very very slight suggestiv content warning (it’s just one stupid joke of Thoma lol)

Format: i feel like it’s too long to be a drabble but it’s also not proof read so eh also I don’t know how to put something under a cut via the tumblr app so until I’m on a desktop you have to deal with this in the tags I AM SO SORRY

You knew it was a mistake to finish your plate as soon as you ate the first spoon of what Thoma had prepared for you two. But he looked at you with such a bright smile in anticipation of what you would say, how you’d like what he had made specifically for the two of you. It was such a nice gesture for Thoma to cook for you, when he asked you yesterday you accepted his invitation for tonight. The both of you had been dating for a while now, however Thoma didn’t have many nights just for himself as the Housekeeper of the Kamisato Clan. So it was very nice for him to spend his first night off in a while cooking for you. With all of that in mind and his puppy eyes looking at you - ah, you just didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was too spicy for you. It wasn’t even that you didn’t like the taste, you probably would like the dish, but it was just… so spicy, there was no option for a taste. It was just burning in your mouth. With a smile you just kept eating until your plate was empty, hoping the consequences of your actions would be too severe.

And for a while you felt fine, spending the rest of the evening cuddling with Thoma on the couch, listening to how he told you stories about his home with a bittersweet tone. In the middle of one of his stories, he was just telling you about a story from his childhood when he searched with two friends for one of their pet turtles, your stomach interrupted him with a loud growl. “Oh, are you still hungry?”, he asked with a slightly teasing tone. “No, it’s nothing, just digestion”, you tried to laugh it off and for a while he kept continuing his stories, not paying too much attention to the different noises of your stomach. That was until he noticed how your body started to tense up, your face turning pale. “Hey, are you alright?”, Thoma shifted, having you sit beside him now. “Yeah, it’s nothing, I’m fin-“, but before you could even finish the sentence the pain in your stomach became worse, as if someone just punched you in it you jolted towards, hugging your arms around your stomach. Hunched over in pain you could feel Thoma’s hand on your back. “Do you need to vomit? Wait a moment”, before you could even answer his question he was already on his feet, running towards the small kitchen and getting you a bucket. Just as quick as he was on his feet he sat back beside you, his hand back on your back, the bucket placed in front of you. “Thoma, really I’m fine it’s ju-“, again you were interrupted by the pain, having to take a deep breath to manage the cramp. “You don’t seem fine to me,” his voice was filled with worry while he caressed your back. “It fine, really. I’m used to it, I just need to lay down a bit,” You we’re finally able to say, giving him a pained smile. This really wasn’t ideal and to be honest it was so embarrassing for you. Maybe, you thought to yourself, that’s the punishment for not being honest from the beginning. But you couldn’t turn back time, so this was now your evening. “Okay, hold on,” before you could even understand what he mean with that he stood up and picked you up, carrying you bridal style to his bedroom. “Thoma, what are you doing?”, surprised by the sudden action you cling to his jacket. “You said you needed to lay down,” he put you down on his bed, “it’s best for you to lay down here, the couch really isn’t the most comfortable when you need rest.” Any other night you would feel something different in your stomach, nervousness, excitement- whatever, the way he carried you into his bedroom, put you down on his bet… you really wished that the circumstances were different for his actions. Was he even aware of what he was doing? “Thoma, I’m sorry”, you sigh, hiding your face in your hands. God, all of this was so embarrassing. He sat down at the end of the bed, his hand on your leg. “Hey, don’t be, it’s not your fault that you don’t feel well.” Thoma stood up from the bed, throwing a blanked over you to then make his way out of the room. “Don’t go”, you mumbled before he was at the bedroom door. “Mmh? What did you say?”, he asked and came closer to you again. You grabbed the fabric of his clothes, repeating yourself. “Don’t go, please.”

The pain in your stomach was still bad, but worse was the thought of having to spend the night alone in Thoma’s bed and him willingly sleeping on his couch, because you couldn’t tell him the truth. Without any further words Thoma filled the empty space next to you in his bed, laying on his side, his one hand supporting his head and the other hand softly going through your hair. You had your eyes closed, concentrating on your breathing, to regulate the pain but also to calm yourself down from the whole situation. Laying next to him in his bed, so close and it all felt so intimate… ah, maybe the nervousness of the whole situation didn’t really help with the pain. After a while you felt Thoma’s hand press against your forehead. “Mmmh, they don’t seem to have a fever, that’s good”, he mumbled to himself. Ah, did he think you fell asleep? Awkwardly you cleared your throat, opening your eyes looking directly into his. “Oh-ah, you’re still awake?”, he looked a bit embarrassed at you noticing how he talked to himself out loud. “Umm- yeah. Thoma,” you shifted, now laying on your side and not on the back anymore, facing him. “Don’t worry, I’m really not ill, it’s just…”, you paused, hesitant to tell him this, “it’s just, the dish you made earlier was a bit … too spicy for me, I quite the sensitive stomach and… I just didn’t want to tell you earlier, you made such an effort to cook for me and-“, you didn’t knew what else was there to stay, burying your face again in your hands you mumbled out another apology to him. “I’m sorry that I didn’t notice it, I made you eat two plates of it, without seeing that you didn’t even enjoy it”, Thoma pulled you in a hug, his chin now resting on your head. “No, Thoma don’t apologise. You couldn’t have known it, I promise you I’ll tell you in future…”. Suddenly you felt another wave of stomach pain, making you curl up again in pain. “Ah, it’s so stupid that my body reacts to a bit of spice like that,” you try to joke, but Thoma only caresses your cheek, looking at you with worry. “How bad is it?”, he asks, wishing he could be of any kind of help to you. “I’m just in pain, so it’s not that bad”, you say hoping he won’t press further on the matter. You really weren’t in the mood to explain to him what exactly it could entail when you ate things that upset your stomach - especially spicy food. “Can I help?”, his hand again at your back, slowly going up and down. “Do… do you have a heating pad or something similar? Sometimes it helps when I put some heat on my stomach.” “No, I don’t have one put… wait, I have a better idea.” With that he made you turn your back to him, pressed to his stomach with it. “T-Thoma?”, you asked nervously when you felt his hand under your shirt on top of your stomach. “Don’t worry, just trust me I won’t do anything funny,” he replied. “Unless you want me to”, he added, which earned him a small nudge with your elbow in his side. “Ouch, okay got it, not the time and place”, Thoma chuckled and then you suddenly felt the heat on your stomach. You sigh at the feeling, visibly relaxing now. You two just stayed there for a while until you were the first one to fall asleep in his arms, Thoma following shortly after you. Neither of you did expect to spend your first night together like this, but you weren’t complaining.

#it’s 3am #and I’m still in pain #FML #pls body just let me pass out after I post this thanks #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #fluff #genshin fan fiction #genshin fan fic #fan fiction #Thoma #tohma #tohma x reader #Thoma x Reader #I did not expect to write anything but hey you just need to be in pain and not able to sleep #inazuma

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kexing · 2 years ago

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Weeks ago you posted people should be liking your posts. I try to, but I know I miss your posts. I use Tumblr with a browser on a desktop. Your feed has a very nice template. I could be missing the obvious, but there is no easy way to Like a post. I can click the post to a new window, then Like button is at the top right, but don't show unless hovered over. My feed or phone app, easy to do, but your own feed, you might try a different template to make easier to like?

hi there!!! i would LOVE to change my desktop theme but the thing is: i don’t have a computer right now and no access to one atm either :/

i used to be able to change it on mobile when i could still view the desktop theme but for some reason, i’m not allowed to view it anymore, only the mobile format. i can’t even view other themes to choose from, i can only change the colors and some options.

i think i just managed to make the like and reblog buttons visible, without having to hover them. but there’s a little heart at the bottom of each post? i think it only appears on the main page (can’t see the post page) but it might like the posts!

also! about the post i reblogged a few weeks ago, i meant that if you want to mass like my posts, you can do it! but if it’s too troublesome, you don’t have to! you’re under no obligations with me! i just really wanted people to know that i don’t mind like/reblog spam! they’re not weird to me at all.

since i can’t change this right now, it’s absolutely on me! please don’t feel pressured to do it! especially if you feel like you have to go out of your way!

sorry for the inconvenience! and thank you for reaching out! ❤️💙

#when i get a laptop changing my theme will be one of the first things i do alskkaks #bryanockert #mj got mail!

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susansontag · 3 years ago

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how do I format a quote post on desktop so when people reblog it it actually has spaces between the paragraphs ))-: I’m sorry for making the post look weird on your blogs queens

#moth.txt

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seenoversundown · 2 months ago

Text

Amongst The Stars: Chapter Eight

Josh x Quinn (Nonbinary OC)Warnings: Craig, pining, general feelings of self doubt, guilt Word Count: 4.4k Summary: Josh has always loved love, and he's finally found it. Buuuut, he can't exactly tell anyone. Join him as he navigates the ins and outs of his sweet, secret romance. Author's Note: Sorry this is so late! I had a crazy day at work. But, here we are. I am not gonna lie to you, I don’t love this chapter. Not because of the content, or because I’m unhappy with it. But, I don’t love it because I know what happens next :) Again, forgive any weird formatting. Desktop Tumblr hates Josh, you heard it here first, folks!

“Hold you in my arms, I just wanted to hold you in my arms” Starlight - Muse

Being this excited about getting my things from Craig’s house feels wrong. I threw a years-long relationship away. I should be at least a little bit upset, but I can’t find it in myself to care. My only regret is that Willa can’t be here with me to help pack. She had some work thing and couldn’t get out of it since everything moved so quickly. I wasn’t anticipating Josh being so willing to help, but I had to jump on the chance when it was offered. It has been an absolute pain in my ass not having access to my clothes or my entire stock of art supplies. I haven’t even had my sketchbook. It was the one thing I meant to grab before heading to Willa’s house, but I managed to forget it. Before I get too into my feelings about it, my phone buzzes, and I know it’s Josh. I grab my canvas bag and head out the door without even pulling it out to check.

When he notices me hit the bottom step, he scrambles out of the truck and walks around to the passenger’s side.

“Hello, dear,” he gives me a shy smile as he opens the door. “Do you treat all your guests this way?” I laugh, jumping up and settling into the seat. He leans against the door, watching as I buckle myself in.

“Only the ones I like,” he winks, shutting the door before I can say anything else.

Why is that attractive? Get it together; he’s just helping you move.

He walks back around to the driver’s side and hops in. “I really appreciate this, you know.” “It’s nothing. Friends help each other out.” Right, right. Friends.

“Wanna put the address in?” he asks, handing me his phone.

I’m slightly taken aback; Craig would have rather died than hand me his phone for anything. I opened Apple Maps and typed in my old address before returning the phone to him. He fiddles around with the music app for a moment before putting the truck in reverse.

“I hope you’re okay with pop music,” he looks at me from the corner of his eye, “It’s a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine.”

I smile as the opening notes to “Feather” filter through the stereo.

“Perfectly fine by me. Your song choice is weirdly appropriate,” I laugh.

“What do you mean?” “This song played in my car as I left Hobby Lobby the first day we met. My ex begged me to turn it off. I should have taken it as an omen.”

He barks out a laugh, and I quirk an eyebrow at him.

“I’m not laughing at you, I promise. It’s just that’s the first day I ever heard this song. It came on shuffle when I went home, and I immediately fell in love with it. Added it to the playlist at my brother’s bar and everything just to piss people off.” I can’t help the wide smile that makes its way to my face.

“Hell of a coincidence.”

“Indeed it is.”

We continue our ride in comfortable silence, letting the GPS guide us toward my old life with Craig. The end of my old life with Craig. Joy swells in my chest at the very thought of being completely done.

Josh enters the apartment complex's parking lot and parks in the first free spot he sees. He shuts his car off, and his eyes soften as he looks at me. “I’m ready whenever you are. We’ve got all day, so if you need a minute to prepare yourself, take it.”

My heart squeezes.

Josh continually amazes me with the care he shows those around him.

“I really appreciate that,” I say, patting the hand he placed on the center console between us. “But I’m ready. I want to be done.”

He nods, unbuckles his seatbelt, and practically sprints out of the car to get my door for me. “You are entirely too sweet,” I laugh, unbuckling my seatbelt and taking his hand as he helps me down. “Nah, I just try to be a gentleman when possible.”

Why is that attractive?

I internally shake myself. I don’t need to have these thoughts about Josh. He’s a friend who is doing me a simple favor. Even if he was into it, I can’t start a new relationship immediately after leaving Craig. How would I know it’s real and not some weird rebound situation?

I couldn’t do that to Josh or me.

“Get stuck in your head again?” Josh squeezes my hand to pull me out of my spiral.

“Mmm, yeah. Thank you.”

“Well, no time like the present.” Josh moves a hand to my lower back to guide me toward the apartment.

Just another show of how caring he is.

“I’ll warn you, Craig can be absolutely terrible. Just ignore whatever he may have to say to you.”

He flashes me an easy smile. “Oh, I’m not worried about him one bit. I’m here to help you, so let him act however he wants.”

“If you say so,” I suck in a deep breath, then begin the slow ascent to the apartment.

“I’m sorry that you kind of have to help me pack, too,” I fold my three-hundredth worn-out band tee and place it in the cardboard box in front of me. “The breakup happened so fast that I couldn’t pack anything before leaving.”

“Quinn, how many times do I have to tell you that I’m happy to be here? If I didn’t want to help, I wouldn’t. So, please stop apologizing.”

I shake my head and roll my bottom lip through my teeth.

“What's up?” Josh asks.

“Nothing; you're just so different from what I'm used to.”

“Well, hopefully, I can continue to surprise you.”

“Oh,” I giggle, “I am certain you will.”

Josh grabs the full box from me and tapes it up before scribbling “Shirts” on it and setting it aside. “I’ll take a load of boxes down to the truck in just a minute.”

Our conversation is interrupted by a minor crash outside the bedroom door. I roll my eyes. Of course, he’s throwing stuff again. Why couldn't he just stay out of our way? I immediately turn to apologize to Josh; it's not fair that he’s being subjected to Craig’s moods. But I notice that he’s walking toward the door.

“Hey, Josh..”

He ignores my warning and opens the bedroom door.

“Hey man, can you keep it down? We’re trying to get out of your hair as quickly as possible, but we can’t do that if you're throwing shit around and distracting us.”

I creep up behind Josh, peering over his shoulders at Craig. I know I shouldn't press this, but I have to see the look on his face when Josh calls him out. I see a faint look of recognition cross Craig’s face. That’s strange.

Craig didn’t initially spot us when we came in. I assume he was in the bathroom, but he definitely doesn’t look happy to see us now. His face contorted in rage, and I grabbed Josh’s arm, preparing for whatever he was going to say. I brace myself, knowing how Craig can be, and I can only hope that Josh is ready to face it as well.

“This is real fucking nice, Quinn,” Craig bypasses Josh altogether, shifting his head to make eye contact with me. “What?” “It’s real nice that you bring the dude you’ve been cheating on me with over here to help you move out. What’s he gonna do, pack all your shit up into his truck, and y’all are gonna move in together like some kind of–” He cuts himself off. “Some kind of what?” Josh straightens his back and speaks directly to Craig.

“Some kind of. Some kind of U-HAUL LESBIANS??” I burst out in an ill-timed fit of giggles at the sheer absurdity of it all. My giggles cause Josh to chuckle, and I see Craig’s face go beet red at the perceived slight against him. “You do realize that to be ‘U-haul lesbians,’ both of us would have to be women?” Josh says between bouts of laughter. “And neither of us are.” Recognizing that Craig has limited patience, I decided to try to smooth things over before Craig could try to hit Josh. “Also, not sure if you forgot, I’m moving in with Willa.” Craig opens and closes his mouth a few times. “As friends,” I add in to stop his floundering. I see Josh roll his eyes at my addition, clearly understanding what an absolute moron Craig can be.

Sometimes, I daydream about what my life would be like if I never got involved with Craig. Would I be happy? Would I have met Josh organically? Would we be together? That’s ridiculous, Quinn. Why would you even be worried about that? He is your friend and nothing more. I scrub one hand down my face, trying to will those thoughts away. It’s too soon; my heart is still, for some reason, vaguely battered by the messy breakup with Craig. Though, at this point, I don’t know if my heart is battered because of Craig or because of the years I wasted with him.

“It was lovely to see you, Greg. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” Josh punctuates his point by slamming the door in Craig’s face. I let out a relieved breath. “Thank you, Josh. You didn’t have to send him away. I could have done that.” “It’s no trouble, darling,” he says, placing a hand on my back and rubbing soothing circles between my shoulder blades. “I think you’ve dealt with him enough.”

I lean into his touch, accepting his small comfort before quickly remembering myself and pulling back. “Let’s just get this done and get out of here.” “Whatever you need, darling.”

That small sentence, whatever you need, darling, may be the death of me. This behavior comes naturally to Josh; it’s plain to see. He was born to be a light in the world, and he is slowly proving that to me over, and over, and over again. I only wish I could accept his light without feeling some type of misguided guilt. I owe Craig nothing, so why is he still dictating my feelings? Why is he still hindering the way I interact with other people? I pull myself out of my thoughts and begin surveying the room.

“We really don’t have much left. I’m choosing to be the bigger person and leaving him the furniture because I don’t want him to have anything.” “Mm,” Josh adds a noncommittal noise to let me know he’s still listening. “What?” “You’re just a better person than I am.” I scoff, practically begging him to explain himself. He is sunshine incarnate, there is no way I am a better person than he is. “Well, if I were you, I’d be removing every single thing I paid for from this house. I’d tell him to figure it out.” I let out a small chuckle. “Oh, I could never do that; that’s horrible. He can’t get ahead, should he ever get his shit together, if I start him off on his own with nothing.” “See, you’re a better person than me. In my eyes, he made his bed, and he can lie in it,” he crosses his arms over his chest, “Or.. not. But, you know what I mean.”

His tough facade cracks as he starts laughing, which sends me over the edge. I fall into his side as we dissolve into a fit of giggles, and I feel his arm wrap around my shoulder, pulling me closer. I lean my head against his shoulder, trying to reel in my laughter. I shift my head to look at his face, taking in how his eyes crinkle up and his dimples are on full display. The laughter dies on my lips as I take in his pearly white smile and his plush, pink lips. I pull back from him like I’ve been burned. Too close for comfort, get it together. I watch as the smile drops from his face, and he clears his throat, walking over to the boxes we set in the corner.

“Well, I’m going to take these down to the truck,” he pats the top box on the stack. “I, uh, I can help with that.” “No, no! Please finish up here, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Uh, okay..”

I watch as he heaves the first box and opens the bedroom door, revealing Craig eavesdropping.

“Oh, hey, man.” “I just wanted to talk to Quinn for a minute.” Josh turns to me to gauge my level of comfort. Just another way he’s perfect. Stop that. I meet his eye and slightly nod. He huffs a small breath out of his nose as his face falls, just a hare.

“Of course,” Josh steps aside and lets Craig enter the room.

Once Josh exits the room, Craig stands in front of me, picking at his cuticles. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” he refuses to look at me. I give him a sad look, knowing that he is in denial and will not take well to the rest of this conversation.

“You know that I do, Craig,” I start, gently patting his arm. “No, I really don’t,” He flinches away from me, and my heart cracks a little bit more. “How can you not? We have done nothing but argue for the past few weeks,” I pause, “Actually, it’s been longer than that, and you know it.” He scoffs, refusing to meet my eyes and instead choosing to look around the now sparsely decorated room we once shared. “So, you’re just taking everything?” “I’m leaving the furniture. But, yeah. Pretty much everything else. I either made or bought all the decor. So..” “I’m supposed to just look at white walls?” “Look, Craig. What is this? What are you trying to do?” He kicks his foot against the rug that our - his - bed sits on top of. “I’m trying to stop you from making the worst mistake of your life,” his eyes, filled with determination, whip up to mine. “You’re trying to what?” “You heard me, Quinn. We love each other, and you’re throwing it all away.” I want to roll my eyes all the way back in my head, but instead, I fix Craig with a tight-lipped smile. “I think that you should be quiet now, Craig.” “Why? Are you starting to realize I’m right, and you don’t want to think about it too hard?” “No, Craig. I’m starting to get mad.”

I turn away from him, trying to calm myself down. I look at the bare walls of our bedroom, expecting to feel some form of loss, but instead, I just feel determined. I know in my blood and very bones that I am making the right choice. I let my determined anger lead my actions.

“You’re getting mad?” “YES, CRAIG,” I shout, “I’m ANGRY. I’m furious that you keep putting me through this shit. I have given you everything, and you still don’t think it’s enough. It’s never been enough for you, and it will never be enough.” “It’s always been enough, Quinn.” “Well, you’ve never shown that, and I cannot keep begging you to,” I hang my head and sigh, “I will not keep begging you. I don’t want to keep begging you to. So, we have nothing left to say to each other. This is done, there’s no salvaging it.” Craig flinches as if I’ve slapped him, and I may as well have. He’s always been less than stellar - understatement of the century - at handling his emotions, so I know that that statement likely felt like a physical blow in his mind.

“What do you mean there’s no salvaging it?” He says as he takes a step closer to me, clenching his fist. I step back, but the tension in the room deflates as the bedroom door flies open, revealing Josh and his windswept curls. His eyes widen as he takes in the scene before him: Craig, with his fist held tight, creeping toward me. “They said what they said, Craig,” Josh interjects. “Didn’t ask you, Josh.”

Wait a minute, I didn’t introduce them. Craig knows the name Josh, but they’ve never met. The wheels start turning in my head as I look between them. They’re caught in a stalemate, staring each other down.

“I wasn’t aware you knew each other..” Craig looks at Josh, then me, his face morphing into something cruel. “Oh, you didn’t tell her?” I roll my eyes at Craig’s slip-up, knowing he only does it to hurt me. “No, I didn’t tell them. We don’t exactly talk about you.” “So, you talk often, then?” “I’d say so, but never about you.” A lie.

I quickly turn and head toward the boxes stacked in the corner. As I move to pick one up, Josh rushes to my side. “What are you doing? I can help,” he says, placing his hand on my wrist. “The testosterone is so high in here, I can smell it. I don’t really care to be around it, so I’m taking my stuff to your truck.”

He looks properly chastised, opening and closing his mouth, trying to formulate an apology. I’m not sure if I care to hear an apology right now. From either of them. They’ve been keeping secrets from me and bickering like old maids about it. I couldn’t really care one way or the other for an apology or an explanation. I just want to get my things and go. Josh nods his head and uses his thumb to rub a soothing circle along the inside of my wrist. I struggle to suppress the shiver that runs down my spine. I meet his eyes and let a small smile creep to my face. He pulls his hand back from my wrist and gives me a shy smile in return.

“Are you kidding?” Craig practically shouts, breaking the peaceful moment between Josh and me.

I clear my throat, fixing him with a glare. “I don’t think you’re the one who gets to ask questions right now. I actually think you, both of you, owe me an explanation.” My annoyance bubbles to the surface again. I can’t believe Josh kept this from me. Craig, yes. Josh? My stomach feels slimy at the thought. It feels wrong that my new friend would keep secrets from me when I’ve been an open book to him. If I ignore the amount of misplaced pining I've done over him. It’s not pining; it’s normal to think about your friends. “Quinn, believe me,” Josh starts, “I didn’t want to keep this from you. But, I figured it would hurt you more than help you to know that Craig came to see me at Hobby Lobby.” My eyes slide from Josh over to Craig and I cock an eyebrow, asking him to continue. “Uh, yeah. I did.” “And he came into my brother’s bar,” Josh adds, hoping that being honest now will save him from my ire. Craig looks over at him and rolls his eyes. “Telling Quinn all your secrets isn’t going to make her like you.” “I don’t care if they like me, they deserve honesty.” “You didn’t seem to think so when you told me not to mention it.”

Did Josh really decide to keep this secret? I could see Craig, but it just hurts worse knowing that Josh chose this. Would Craig have told me if Josh hadn’t sworn him to secrecy? Thoughts rattle around in my head as I try to keep the hurt from flashing across my face. I slowly blink a few times. Am I taking this too hard? No, Quinn – You are allowed to feel your feelings. Yeah, well why does it feel so annoying then? Pulling myself out of my internal struggle, I lock eyes with Craig. “Elaborate. Right now,” I huff.

I listen in stunned silence as it tumbles out of Craig’s mouth that he basically stalked Josh and harassed him at work and again - allegedly by accident, though I’m not sure if I believe that - at the tavern that his brother owns. I can’t help the shock that shows on my face as he elaborates on the fact that he talked down on me and Josh came to my defense. I glance over to Josh, while Craig finishes his story, allowing my eyes to trace over his features. I catalog the slope of his nose, and the spot I know a dimple pops out in when he smiles. I can’t really be mad at him, I think as my eyes get caught on the shape of his top lip, He’s too cute to be mad at. I shake my head, dispelling the thought. I should be angry with Josh. He may not have sought Craig out, but he certainly kept it a secret from me when he had ample time to tell me.

“This is insane, you know that right?” I look between Josh and Craig, ensuring that they realize I am talking to both of them, “In what world would you think that keeping this secret from me was a good idea?”

I see the regret immediately flash across Josh’s face, Craig following shortly behind.

“You’re right, Quinn,” Josh Starts, “I should have told you, but I didn’t want to get in the middle of your relationship.”

“Littlelateforthat,” Craig huffs under his breath, causing me to roll my eyes.

I turn to Craig, raising an eyebrow, “Well, do you have anything to add.”

Craig simply shakes his head and leaves the room, putting an end to our conversation. I sigh, turning away from Josh and moving to pick up my final few boxes.

“Whatever’s left in here is staying,” I say in a clipped tone, hoisting a box into my arms. I’m annoyed with Josh. I’m annoyed at the fact that I’m not more annoyed. It hurts that Josh didn’t tell me, but it hurts more knowing that it doesn’t matter. I was going to break up with Craig regardless. Hell, Portland’s a small town, they likely would have met each other eventually. But that should have been on my terms. And it shouldn’t have been a secret. “That’s fine,” Josh responds and picks up the last two boxes, following me down to his truck.

The drive back to mine and Willa’s apartment is frosty to say the least. Josh has kept his metaphorical tail between his legs since the confrontation with Craig earlier. The only sounds that pass between us are the sounds of the radio and the occasional GPS direction.

When we get back to my apartment, he wordlessly puts his truck in park and jumps out to open my door for me. We carry each box up to the apartment and into my (new) bedroom in complete and utter silence. When Josh has dropped the final box on the floor of my room, he finally heaves out a long sigh.

“I’m sorry, Quinn. I didn’t want to keep it a secret.” He ducks his head, picking at his cuticles.

“I believe you, it was just a shock.” He looks up at me with the most hopeful look in his eyes and I crack. I can’t stay mad at him. “Do you mean it?”

“Of course, Josh,” I smile, “But, I really should get started on unpacking.”

Josh nods his head, “Need help?”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask that of you, but I’ll walk you out.”

We make small talk all the way to the door, and I open it to usher him outside.

“I really appreciate your help today. I couldn’t have done it without you, truly.”

He gives me one of his dimple-popping smiles and pulls me in for a hug.

“Anything for you, dear,” he whispers into my ear, crushing me against him.

It would be so easy to just… before I can rethink it, I turn my head and capture his lips with mine. It lasts just a second, a ghost of a kiss, before I pull back. What the fuck have I done? I quickly put a little bit of distance between us, taking in Josh’s wide eyes. “I’m so–” before I can finish my apology, Josh closes the distance between us and presses his lips against mine. I let out a small gasp and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, sucking my top lip between his. My hands completely of their own volition wind their way into his unruly curls. He lets out a small Mmph at the feeling. His hands find my hips and pull me closer against him as his tongue traces against my lips, begging for entry. As if he’s searching for any possible way to get closer, closer, closer.

Who am I to deny him?

I sigh, giving him what he wants, and our tongues tangle together.

I lightly tug at his hair and he lets out an almost growl as he lets his hands gently, tentatively, roam my body.

His right hand trails up my back before coming to rest on the back of my neck, pulling me closer, closer, closer.

He backs me against the wall next to the door and pulls his lips from mine, before moving to kiss down my neck.

“Fuck,” I hiss as his teeth graze a particularly sensitive spot.

No. But actually, FUCK.

“Josh,” I start.

“Mm,” He ignores me, continuing to press open-mouthed kisses and nips along my heated flesh.

What am I doing?

I shove him away from me.

“What the fuck is this?” I say more to myself than Josh.

“You need to go. I need you to leave immediately.”

“I, uh, I,” He stammers.

“No! Leave. Now! And please, just… don’t contact me. Clearly we’ve done enough.”

I watch as he nods his head and leaves.

Was Craig right? Is Josh the reason our relationship went to shit? Am I the one in the wrong?

I can’t stop the guilt and thoughts from swirling through my head as I spend the rest of the night settling into my new home.

I let the guilt eat at me even hours later, as I tuck myself under my comforter and ignore Willa’s frantic knocks on my door.

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