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maineventbts · 6 months

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The Boy Is Mine

pairing: jey uso x oc

word count: 2.1k

warnings: cursing , some innuendoes at the end , that’s pretty much it.

note: i haven’t written anything in a while , im just testing the waters. pls be kind <3

It was Monday, meaning you were walking into the arena for tonight's show. Typically, you enjoyed coming to work; you had the best job in the world. However, this was the last place you wanted to be today. Your silver suitcase was rolling behind you as your best friend power walked to keep up with your quick strides. Your goal was to reach your destination as quickly as possible, avoiding as much contact as you could. You greeted some staff and fellow coworkers before rushing into the female locker room. Holding the door open for your friend, as she gives you a side eye on her way into the room. "What is wrong with you? You need to slow the fuck down," Nia said with her hands on her hips, trying to catch her breath.

You refused to tell her the reason for your speed walking into the arena. In your mind, the reasoning made you sound like a high schooler, and you were grown as hell. You and your longtime friend, who happens to be Nia's cousin, were going through a rough patch. You and Josh were not just typical friends; you were practically in love with each other. You couldn't get enough of each other from the day you first met. Sitting together in catering, riding to shows together, even having him hold your purse sometimes. You two even shared many steamy moments in private. No one ever questioned your closeness until a new person was added to the mix. Newer talent, Nikita, the Bane of your existence. Because you and Josh were not an official item, he was fair game for anyone. However, you were ready to go to bat for that man, like he put a ring on your finger.

"Hello? Girl, you almost killed me; this better not be about Josh again." Nia shakes your shoulders, pulling you from your daze. You playfully smack her hands off of your body, "my bad, I'm just a little tired today." Not believing your excuse, Nia opens her mouth, preparing to remind you of your busy day. "And I know we have a tag match tonight, I'll be focused," you beat her to the punch.

After setting up your space in the locker room, you and some of the other women head to catering. You've only had a matcha latte today, and if you didn't eat anything soon, your body would give up. Thankfully, there is always a diverse spread of delicious food, so you never have to worry about going hungry. You grab a Gatorade and pack your plate with three tacos and rice. As soon as you sit down with Nia and Naomi, you notice Naomi's continuous glances at you. "Yes, Naomi," you say, already knowing what was about to come next.

"Why are you ignoring that man," referring to her brother-in-law, Josh. Unsurprisingly, he told his twin brother Jon, who definitely told Trinity. You poke at the food on your plate before looking up at the girls, "I'm not ignoring hi-," Trinity put her hand up, not wanting to hear whatever bullshit you were about to spew. "I literally watch you speed walk past him at every show. And he won't stop calling me and Jon to see what's wrong with you." It was obvious that Trinity wanted to help you both, but you wanted to avoid being lectured by your friends. "He out here entertaining other bitches, what am I supposed to do," your words came out in a whisper in an attempt to keep your fellow workers out of your business.

You’ve been talking about Josh too much because he comes around the corner like Beetlejuice. In an instant, your head is down, and you begin eating your food, praying that he'll ignore you. His eyes are on you instantly, but to your surprise, he doesn't approach you. Instead, he sits down with Xavier and Kofi, at the table beside you. Your back was toward him, but Nia's constant looks in his direction weren't helping your paranoia. "Stop looking over there," you mouth to her, causing her to look down at her plate.

Just as you thought things couldn't get any worse, Bane arrives here to ruin your day. "What up Nikita," you hear Xavier greet the girl, who takes a seat at their table. Your jaw tightens, and your grip on your fork is deadly. Her presence makes you want to flip every table in the room and slap the taste out of her mouth. "I'm liking the little blue in the back, Josh; did you just dye it?" just the sound of her voice raises your body temperature. Smoke is practically barreling out of your ears as you try to remain calm. His hair color is none of her business, and why didn't he tell you about it? Your mind is racing so fast that you don't notice Trinity and Nia's concerned facial expressions. If you didn't leave this table now, Nikita would be laid out on it. Gathering your trash and personal items, you get up from the table and get away from catering as quick as possible. Little did you know, Joshua was staring at you the entire time with puppy dog eyes, praying that you'd look his way.

Back in the locker room, you begin to prep for your match. Earbuds snug in your ears as you riffle through your suitcase, trying to find the best gear to wear. After a swift search, you pull out one of your strategically distressed t-shirts, trunks, and kickpads. You change in one of the stalls and throw on your black boots. "You want to look like me so bad," Nia lets out a laugh as you both come out of the stalls wearing the same colors. The show had already started, and it was time for you two to get in the makeup chair.

"Do you want to go with a neutral type of look tonight," Melinda, one of the makeup artist, always asked what you wanted before she worked her magic. You went with the neutrals, and so did Nia. You and the girls are enjoying small talk as she puts the finishing touches on your face. "Y/N," your body instantly tensed up, and you refused to look away from the girl in front of you. Nia instantly looked away and continued to chat with the other girls. "Girl, i know you did not," you mutter, shocked that she'd leave you to deal with this alone.

"Yes, Josh," you fight the urge to face him, trying to stay strong. If you looked that man in the eyes, you just might let everything go and fold. "Can we go somewhere and talk," he moves to stand before you, not allowing you to avoid him any longer. "I'm getting my makeup done," you quickly respond, hoping to excuse yourself from the situation. "Actually, you're all done now," Melinda pats your shoulder as she ushers you to get out of the chair. Your eyes widen as you've just been thrown to a wolf by your favorite makeup artist. You thank the woman, realizing that you can't hide anymore. "Come on," you tilt your head towards the far end of the hall, which happens to be empty.

"Why you ignoring me," Joshua jumps straight to the point, looking down on you. His body looks tense as he folds his hands in front of him. It was beyond evident that he was just as nervous as you were, if not more. "We been friends for years, you know you my girl," you could hear the hurt in his voice, and it completely shattered your heart. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt Josh, but you were hurting too. "If I'm your girl, why are you flirting with other bitches? It's supposed to be me and you, Joshua; this is not a group thing." You could hardly hold eye contact with him anymore; his eyes looked angry and apologetic, while you looked like you were about to burst into tears.

He cupped your jaw, forcing you to look at him. "Ain't nobody flirting with nobody. She just follows me and the guys around sometimes, you need to stop trippin-"you smack his hand away from your face. How dare he accuse you of being dramatic. "I need to stop trippin? You won't even let Dolph sit next to me anymore. Anybody gets friendly with me, and you get upset, but I can't be mad at you for getting fresh with someone that ain't me," no longer were you scared to look at him; you were practically fuming. Head cocked to the side with your arms crossed over your chest, "you're so fucking backwards, Josh. If you wanna flirt with other people, if you want to fuck with other people, go ahead!" The two of you sat in silence for a moment, unsure of what even happened. He clenched his jaw, as you tried your best to hold back the flood that was ready to fall from your eyes.

"Fuck you, Josh. I'm so fucking done with you," you turn away from him, not wanting to waste any more of your time on someone who wasn't truly committed to you. Head hanging low as you speed past everyone in the hall. Joshua watches you walk away from him, knowing that you need some time to cool off. Though you might not understand now, he loves you more than anything else in this world, and he wouldn't let you walk out of his life that easily.

The rest of your evening was bearable. You won your tag match with Nia but had to go up against the one person you wanted to strangle. Luckily for you, Josh was nowhere to be found; now it was time to get the hell out of there before he magically appeared again. You and Nia were outside, waiting for Saraya to bring the car around. Sitting on your suitcase with your earbuds in, this was the most peace you had gotten all day.

As Saraya pulls up in front of you, a hand drapes over your shoulder. You recognized that soft yet heavy hand anywhere. "What do you want Josh," your words come out very monotonous as you pull the earbuds from your ears. "You riding with me tonight," his words sounding more like a statement than a question. You shrug his hand off of your shoulder before rising from your seat. "No, I'm going with the girls to-” before you could finish your sentence, Joshua is holding your suitcase along with his, "you gon' stop running from me. You know just how much I love you, even though we haven't made anything official, I've made it more than clear that you my number one." Before you can get a word out, he continues, "I shouldn't have let her get that close to me; that's my fault entirely. But never once did I feed into her advances or little flirtatious behavior. I'm not checking for anybody that's not you, ma," with every word he says, you feel your face get hotter. You weren't sure what you were expecting, but you didn’t think that he’d profess his love for you outside the arena.

"I know we ain't made nothing official or anything, but I wanna change that. I don't want no one thinking they got a chance with you, and I know you don't want that either." Joshua advances towards you, letting go of the suitcase handles. Hands slowly wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to his body, "be my girl, officially." You couldn’t resist it anymore, the last thing you wanted was to keep fighting with Josh. Your hand comes up to the back of his head, strands of his blue hair through your fingers, "I'd like that very much," your words come out softly as you feel your face burning. His eyes were scanning all over your body like this was the first time he’s ever seen you. You couldn’t lie, you did get some new braids in and did your makeup a bit different lately, hoping he would notice. He wasn’t the only one staring, you found yourself drooling over his tattooed arms and the shine from his grill. It’s been a minute since y’all got together and you needed him now.

"Kiss her! Be a man," you hear Saraya and Nia yelling from the car, you completely forgot that they were waiting on you. Leaning down, Joshua carefully places his lips against yours. Wasting no time, you parted your lips, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. Your nails are softly combing through his hair as his hands start to roam your body. You hear squeals in the background before slowly pulling away from his lips. Gloss slightly smudged on your face and on his lips. Your mouth curves into a smile before you turn your attention to your friends. "I'll see y'all in the next town," you raise your middle finger at the pair before gathering your items to leave with your new man.

"You gon' apologize for ignoring me all this time," he looks over at you, licking his lips as you help him load up the rental. Already knowing what kind of apology he wanted, you shake your head, "nah, I've been under so much emotional stress lately. I think you owe me an apology, maybe even two," you giggle as he closes the trunk. "I’ma give you whatever you want baby," he says, hand smacking your ass before you walk over to the passenger door.

#jey uso x black reader #jey uso x reader #jey uso fanfiction #wwe fic #jey uso imagine

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renren-006 · 6 months

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Sunshine Optimist | Daryl Dixion x fem reader

plot: you were sunshine and he was scared of getting burned.

word count: 1305

a/n: heyyyy here is another daryl story hope you enjoy!

Daryl was always jealous of your optimism, the way you constantly thought things would get better or that the world wasn't as screwed up as it seemed.

Every time the group had a bump in the road, you were there, telling everyone that things would turn around; most of the time, you were right, and when you were wrong, Daryl was the only one to remind you of it. You liked him and never let his words hurt you too much, not when you knew he was just hurting. Daryl didn't let many people in, including you, but when he did, you knew it was because of your optimism that he did.

You were like sunshine in his eyes, and he was afraid of getting burned.

You thought he was like the night sky, dark, but with a few shining stars, the dark wasn't that intimidating.

The prison was the first shining star in Daryl's world. He hated that he believed your optimism then and loved that you were right. He grumbled about it to Carol so often that the woman would just laugh and shoo him away to go figure out his feelings. Daryl knew he liked you, you made his world light up, and he also knew he could never tell you. He did the only thing he knew how to do when he had feelings: push them and you away so he wouldn't have to worry about it.

That only made things worse for him.

You knew he pushed you away, you could feel it and see that whatever he was feeling scared the shit out of him. Rick even tried to comfort you about it.

“He's scared,” Rick said as he walked up beside you. You were standing on the gravel road watching him ride off on his motorcycle after another failed conversation with the man. Rick put a hand on your shoulder. “He's…not good with his feelings”

“I know. Just wish he would talk to me.” You told the older man. “I like him but sometimes it hurts too.”

“Sometimes love hurts”

“That's not helping this situation Rick” you told him sarcastically.

“I know. I'm sorry. Daryl…he's like a deer, startle him and he’ll run”

“That's probably the best way to describe him,” you said laughing. Rick smiled, patted your soldier, and walked back to helping the others with walker controle.

Daryl kept burying his feelings for you, deep, deep down. He felt his skin burn when he was near you, so he never put himself in that situation. That never worked because you would seek him out more than he wanted you to. It took 6 months of being in the Prison before something happened that forced him to feel what he was trying not to.

You joined Daryl, Michonne, and a few of the new people at the Prison on the run. You rode with Michonne in the pickup truck while the others tagged behind. Daryl rode beside the truck, failing at not watching you in the passenger seat. You knew he was watching, knew you wanted to be on that motorcycle with him, but knew you needed to let him come to you.

Once you arrived at the store a few miles from the prison and looked to have not been raided, you all made your way inside. The building was dark and muggy, and it sounded like a few employees didn't make it. You took care of the ones on your side of the store. Daryl closes behind, keeping an eye out. You glanced around before motioning to Daryl to hand you one of the bags to start filling. You got about halfway down the aisle when a Walker jumped you out of nowhere. He didn't bite you, but shit, he scared you.

“Fuck” you cursed as the walked pushed you back twords the wall, making you knife fummble out of your handsat the supprise. Daryl jumped into action shoving the walker off you and killing it before it could get a taste of skin. Daryl jumped back over to you looking over every inch of skin.

“He didn't get me. He didn't get me. Im fine” you told him, repeating the phrase over and over till he looked you in the eyes. “Daryl, im fine”

“You ain’t comin’ out ‘ere again” he said seriously, “No more runs”

“You can't bench me Daryl” you told him turning from fright to anger.

“Hell I can” he said back.

“No. I'm not yours, Daryl. You have made that very clear. You can't come back and act like you care,” you said angrily, letting all those pent-up months of feeling like nothing to Daryl out. He stared at you blankly, realizing how horrible he must have made you feel, always shoving you away.

“I….” Daryl started, wanting to scream at himself for what he had done.

“No. Im done” you told him pushing the man off you, “i'm going over there, stay the hell away Daryl”

Daryl stared blankly at where your body had previously been before you walked off, grabbed your knife, and continued on to the next row, far away from him. For the rest of that run, you stayed away, walking to another aisle whenever he tried to keep close. Michonne picked up on the energy shift between you, too, without having to say anything.

“If she doesn't want you around Daryl, it's because you pushed her so far to do so” she told him.he nodded back, knowing it was his fault and that he caused it. “You have to fix it. No more shoving her away”

“I know”

“Good. Now get back to work, we leave in thirty” Michone said.

That night Daryl found you at your guard tower sitting outside watching the stars. He knocked on the window on the corner wall by you. Glancing over you raised it was him, you rolled your eyes.

“I thought i said to stay the hell away Daryl” you said, a bit of venom dripped in your voice. Something Daryl had never heard from you.

“I know, Im sorry”

“Sorry isn't going to cut it” You told him, “For months you have pushed me away, made me feel worthless to you and I pushed through but you have no right…”

“I know,” he said, cutting you off. “I was afraid of getting’ hurt y/n”

“Hurt?”

“yer sunshine and I'm…”

“A starry night,” you told him. Holding his gaze. “You're like the stars in the night sky, bright enough to make the darkness not so scary. I always thought you were, but then you changed.”

“I…I couldn't stand yer optimism” he said, “ya made me feel…”

“Made you feel what”

“Like my heart was gonna explode” he said, crouching down by you, “yur makin me feel optimistic about the world”

“I like having that effect on people” you told him, “I like having an affect on you”

“Ya do” he said, “Ya make me feel happy like I haven't been in a while”

“Good” you said and pulled him down to you, crashing your lips onto his. You pulled away from him, “Tell me your sorry again”

“I'm sorry Y/N” he said, the husky voice of the redneck sent shivers down your spine.

“And that you won't ever push me away like you did”

“I promise,” he said, smiling at the way you were making him tell you what you already knew was true. You pulled the man back and kissed him deeply. He pulled you closer to him, picked you up, and carried you into your tower. The sounds and moans that escaped your guard tower that night were heard across the starry sky, which seemed to smile down towards the Prison.

#daryl dixion #twd daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #twd daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x female reader

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satzumosupremacy · 1 year

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Hong Kong Incident

Male reader X Minnie

2k words

Tags: Smut

You wake up early in the afternoon with a woman sleeping beside you. In confusion, you sit up quietly, looking around your hotel room, seeing your clothes and the girl you slept with. A sudden memory—her name is Minnie—and an empty bottle of whiskey right on the nightstand. You vividly remember how it all started before the alcohol entered your system.

You quietly lay back down, with her still sleeping. "She sleeps so beautifully" is your first impression of the day. You look at the ceiling and close your eyes, trying to remember what happened last night like a puzzle. Here’s what you remember as you try to dig up your vivid memories of yesterday while she sleeps right beside you—narrating your memories to yourself.

———

A knocking sound comes from your door, and you go to check if it was room service. A beautiful lady with bangs is right in front of you and looks like a celebrity.

Oh, I’m sorry, I thought this was my room. I must have read it as 438 instead of 483. I’m so sorry to bother you, sir."

“It’s okay, ma’am.”

She rushes into the distance, embarrassed by her clumsy mistake. You find her hot and beautiful at the same time. You hesitate to get her number and decide to close the door. You check up with your colleagues back in America to see if things are going smoothly and head to the bathroom to take a shower. You come back out with a robe, putting on some shorts, until a knock is heard on your door again.

“Oh hey, it’s you again.” You teased the unknown woman.

“May I get your number?”

You walk back in to get your phone while she holds the door open. You give her your phone number. “What’s your name?” You questioned her.

“I’m Nicha, but call me Minnie. What’s your name?”

“I’m, Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you. May I come in? You’re a handsome guy.”

"Let me get fully dressed first; be right back. I’ll need to close the door, though." She closes the door and waits. You open the door and guide her in. "I must say, you’re insanely beautiful, Minnie."

“Thank you, let’s talk about each other. What do you do?”

“I’m a surgeon in America, I came here for a vacation.”

“Oh I’m on vacation too. You really don’t know me?”

“No, Minnie, I’m guessing you’re a celebrity?”

“I am, I’m surprised you don’t know me.”

“Im so sorry, I’m always busy with surgeries.”

“No worries, but what makes you say that I’m beautiful?”

“Your eyes.” You said straightforwardly.

“That’s cute, but I think it’s better if you see how they are in another aspect.”

“What do you mean?”

"Let’s just drink some alcohol; we can get to know each other more." She gets up and opens the fridge with alcohol. It’s a luxury hotel with many things to entertain guests. You don’t mind having a drink with Minnie, knowing you both find each other attractive. Words exchange for an hour; the alcohol is close to being empty; you’re buzzed at this point with Minnie. You found her even more attractive as she looked at you with a different glare.

She gets closer to you as you sit on the bed. You realize she came in for a different reason. I've wanted something else ever since I saw you." She said seductively and glides her hands around your chest. You see her eyes differently—full of desire and lust.

Your heart is pounding faster; adrenaline and testosterone rush within your body. "Minnie."

"Shh, you won’t regret this." Minnie takes off your pants, kissing the bulge underneath your boxers. She chuckles seductively and slowly takes off your boxers, kissing the tip of your hard cock loudly with her soft lips. You can tell she’s buzzed by her rosy cheeks glowing and wraps her mouth around your cock.

You fall back onto the bed with your legs hanging on the edge while she’s on her knees sucking you off slowly. You can feel your heart pumping faster and your blood vessels pulsing in your head as you have a migraine from all the alcohol. Minnie’s blowjob is somewhat easing your migraine, you hear her gagging, taking every inch of your cock deeper within her mouth. "Fuck, Minnie." You groaned.

"Mhm." She gave you a reply as she keeps sucking you off and Minnie moaning louder. You close your eyes hard, catching your breath as you desperately gasp. Your cock starts to twitch, she’s getting you to your limits quickly by how intoxicated you are along with her. You unknowingly arch your back, overwhelmed by her warm mouth wrapping around your cock. She stares right at you, desperately fighting yourself because you can’t hold back anymore. Minnie doesn’t stop; she uses her hands to jerk you off with her tongue around your tip.

"Fuck, Minnie!" You erupt in her mouth, flooding her inner cheeks with warm cum as she swallows them desperately. She slows down, sucking you off like a vacuum until you finish. You take deep breaths momentarily while Minnie undresses and crawls on top of your face. You grab her thighs, locking her in as you help yourself to her wet folds in front of you.

"Eat me." She said quickly, and her thighs glue onto the side of your face. You kiss her inner thighs and quickly get a taste of her folds. Minnie moans as her thigh muscles latch onto your face harder. "Y/N!" She moaned your name.

You love how she says your name with a voice like hers. As intoxicated as you are from the alcohol, you’re also intoxicated by Minnie herself. She leans on the headrest of the bed, gripping it hard as you eat her pussy, sucking up all her tasty juice. Her moans are muffled by her thighs against your ear. It wasn’t what you wanted, but you’re so addicted to tasting her folds and giving her pleasure.

You eat her pussy passionately; she’s overwhelmed by the alcohol, and you take your time knowing you’re both intoxicated. You grab her ass; it wasn’t the biggest or the smallest, but all that matters is that she got enough meat to grip and firmly slap them. You caress her ass more, loving the way you’re getting a feel of a naked celebrity in your bed. It turns her on as you treat her body gently. She moans louder, not caring about the other guest beside your room.

Minnie’s body tense up quickly; you got her to her limits. You eat her pussy faster, licking her clit as she starts to squirm around while you pin her thighs. Minnie covers her mouth, jerking her body hesitantly to not hurt you in any way. You slow down, letting her ride out her orgasm as you keep getting a taste of her. Minnie taps your shoulders, and you let go. She gets off, lays on top of you, and catches her breath.

“You taste good, Minnie.”

“I’d say the same.”

You both lay quietly for several seconds while you both make out. She kisses your neck, nibbling it here and there, and you guide her closer to your lips. You get hard again, and she crawls back on her knees to put your cock inside her. Minnie inserts it in slowly, feeling every inch as it goes deeper into her walls. You and Minnie exchange groans. She places her hands on your chest, slowly grinding as you both look at each other with lust. You love how her eyes look, falling deep into oblivion as you both stare at each other.

Minnie grinds faster and you grab her tits, gently squeezing them and giving them a few light slaps. She giggles at how much respect you show her, even if she wanted this from the start without you knowing. Her breaths became heavy, gasping for air while she starts to ride you with her hair slapping her back consistently. "Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good inside me." She groaned after.

“You’re so tight, just what I love about you.”

“Y/N.” She moaned your name as she gasp.

“Minnie.”

You both are staring at each other as you grunt. Her mouth is opened, taking in every breath of air. Her cat eyes become so seductive, it’s dangerous enough to get you to your limits. You decide to dance with the devil, not knowing if she’s on a pill while you’re so distracted by her beautiful eyes. Her head drops down with her hair on the side. She grips hard near your collarbone; you feel her nails digging into your skin, but it’s tolerable enough. Both of you are exchanging breaths as Minnie keeps her pace. You hold onto her ass, helping her ride you.

“Fuck, you’re so manly.”

“Anything for a beautiful woman like you, Minnie.”

She smiles shyly with her rosy cheeks as she keeps riding you. It becomes several minutes to an hour, estimating the time of her on top without a proper time to tell. She gets down closer with her tits mashed against your chest. You give her a hug and use your legs to thrust into her. You can tell she’s tired; you penetrate her walls slowly, then pick up the pace. She’s moaning erotically, saying your name often as she takes your thrust. You kiss her passionately while your thighs collide with her ass.

You’re getting to your limit—sober enough to hear her beautiful voice clearly. She’s hugging you tightly, still moaning in your ear. You explore her toned back, caressing every part of her body as if you couldn't get enough.

“Minnie, are you on a pill?”

“No, just cum inside me, I want it. I’ll buy plan b tomorrow.”

“I don’t plan to pull out of a beauty like you either way, Minnie.”

“Fuck, that’s so hot. Do it, cum inside me.”

You kiss her hair, thrusting deep inside her harder; the room gets louder while you penetrate her walls. You start to grunt harder, and your cock pulsates, then erupts without warning. You pause deep inside her tight pussy, coating her walls as you flood her pussy with your warm cum. She groans in surprise, feeling how much you're cumming inside her as it leaks out slowly. You give Minnie a tight hug, desperately wanting all the cum to be inside her. You finish, and she kisses you on the neck and your lips.

You let Minnie get off of you and lay beside you. "I didn’t think I'd fuck someone on this vacation." She laughed afterward.

“I didn't either. I loved it, Minnie.”

“Let’s get some rest. It was a wild time for both of us.”

You get up, turn the lights off, open the blinds slightly, and get on the bed. She gives you a smile, and you smile back, softly laughing together afterward. Minnie inches closer to your chest and becomes fast asleep. You fall asleep several seconds later with her presence in your bed.

———Back to present time

Minnie wakes up, remembering what happened last night. You open your eyes, meeting hers while she looks at you. “Good morning, Minnie.”

“Good morning, Y/N.”

“It was great last night.”

“It really was, thanks.”

“You should hurry and buy some plan b.”

"Oh fuck, you’re right." Minnie gets up and quickly dresses herself. You stare at her naked body for the last time. "Sorry, but I have to go."

“It’s okay. You have my phone number.” You said humbly.

“Let me give you mine in case.”

She gives you her number, and you get up to put on your shorts with your robe, walking her out of the room and waving at each other as she heads back to her room.

#gidle smut #minnie smut #kpop smut

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butchcarmy · 7 months

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ALEXITHYMIA CH 2: alcohol, garlic, and lipstick

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

ao3 link ch 1 ch 3 ch 4

Summary: Carmy can’t put into words how he feels about his roommate. It’s only been a couple months, but here he is looking forward to going home and sharing a smoke with them. That’s all it is, though. There are no underlying feelings, none at all, even if everyone around him has something to say about it.

Or: Carmy is repressed as ever, but through the combined power of vulnerability, weed, and the horny, Carmy too can find love.

tags for this ch: alcohol use, throwing up, semi-permanent lipstick, accidentally embarrassing carmy in front of all his coworkers

Chapter 2: alcohol, garlic, and lipstick (8k)

He doesn’t get to see them for a couple days after that night on the couch.

This is more the rhythm he’s used to—early mornings and late nights, out of the house so long he never sees them. The next several days blur together into what feels like one very, very long day. When he sleeps, he doesn’t dream. It often feels as if he didn’t sleep at all.

Their past exchange haunts him. He catches himself slipping, lost in thoughts as he watches the pot simmer. They’ve never had any sort of conversation like that before. Sure, they didn’t really talk about anything, but…

But in that same vein, Carmy can’t stop thinking about it. He wonders if they’re thinking about it, too. The thought feels like a tangled ball of yarn in the pit of his stomach, writhing and messy. He shouldn’t be thinking about it—they’re just roommates, after all.

He’s restlessly worried about that moment on the couch, and yet, he can’t even muster up the words as to why.

Because if you finally say it, it’ll all be real, he thinks vaguely, somewhat hysterically to himself, and that’s where it always ends.

Wednesday evening, he comes in from home exhausted as ever. Nothing new. He feels the strain in his wrist when he shoves his shitty front door open—obviously overdid it in the kitchen. After shoving his sneakers off, he flicks the lights on in the kitchen, and he spots a bright pink sticky note on the counter.

Now that’s new.

He walks up to it, squinting at the pink that’s almost neon under the fluorescents. It’s a note from his roommate.

hey carmy, it reads, scribbled on in pen. im going out with friends tonight, so I won’t be back until later + leftovers in the fridge if you want any :)

Carmy makes a small noise of acknowledgement to himself. Picks up the note, puts it back down.

Running a hand through sweaty hair, he opens the fridge. It’s full of ingredients, perhaps far too many for a guy who barely cooks for himself. Ironically enough, it’s the one who doesn’t cook for a living who keeps the fridge stocked. There's a lot of miscellaneous sauces, near empty coffee creamers, and mysterious tupperwares.

He spots a new tupperware that has another pink sticky note on it, so he grabs that one out of the fridge.

He pops it open. There’s condensation on the inside of the lid, and it drips onto the floor. Inside sits pasta, potatoes, chicken, onions, and peppers, all cooked into a cheap, yet harmonious meal. It’s a familiar instant pot recipe.

It tastes familiar, too. The ingredients together taste like home. He’s not sure if it even tastes like his home, although surely his mom cooked something like this. As he stews over the flavors in his mouth, Italian seasoning, garlic, and black pepper, he wonders if maybe this apartment is starting to feel like home.

The thought is so ridiculous he shakes his head to himself, but…

It feels warm coming home to someone. He can’t deny that he likes that feeling. Maybe he’s settling into this place more than he thought. Maybe he’s…getting more used to having a roommate than he expected.

Maybe I’ll see them tomorrow, he thinks as he stares at his dark bedroom ceiling. He’s so sleepy he can’t even help himself from thinking about them. The lethargy always goes full blast as soon as his back hits the mattress.

Graciously, he doesn’t dream when he sleeps. Unfortunately, he wakes back up again in only a matter of hours.

When he reluctantly wakes up and squints at his phone, he sighs. 1:14 am. Slapping his phone back down on his side table, he stubbornly shuts his eyes in an attempt to go back to bed. It would’ve been too nice if his body let him sleep throughout the night.

Then, there’s the sound of the door opening.

He listens to the familiar sound of their footsteps against their old hardwood floor. It’s admittedly a little strange—it’s usually the other way around, with Carmy coming back home so late they’re already asleep. Except for this time.

They’re in the kitchen, he deduces, carefully listening. It’s easy to hear everything, especially in the quiet of night. As he closes his eyes again, listening, he imagines them.

The sound of the fridge opening. No, the freezer—it always squeaks when it opens. It shuts. Yes, now that’s the fridge door. He imagines them looking into the fridge just like he was a couple of hours ago, tilting their head thoughtfully to the side. He’s not sure if they know that they do that.

By all means, it should be disruptive, the way they’re opening and shutting cabinets in the kitchen. And yet, as he lays there, snuggled drowsily into his sheets, it starts to sound like a lullaby. He listens to them, thinking of them cooking, and he begins to drift to sleep.

“Fuck—fuck! Shit shit shit—”

There’s a sharp yelp, and Carmy’s jumping out of bed.

If he’s being honest, he probably wasn’t actually going to fall back asleep so easily anyway. He rarely ever does.

He stumbles into the brightly lit kitchen, dressed in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. The lights are so bright that he’s squinting, struggling to adjust.

“Sorry if I woke you up, there was a roach,” they explain meekly before he can think of what to say. They’re standing there, bottle of roach killer in their hand.

Carmy looks down. As expected, there’s a big dead roach, sitting in a pale pool of roach killer.

“I…see.” He yawns, a big one that makes the corners of his eyes tear up. “You didn’t wake me up, I was already awake. You just got back?”

“Mhm,” they reply, reaching for some paper towels, and that’s when Carmy really notices their outfit. Black, flashy, clearly meant for a night out at a bar. Dark colors always looked good on them. Their makeup matches, dark and smudged around their eyes. Seeing them dressed up like this makes it nearly impossible to deny how much he likes looking at them.

He in particular likes the plunging neckline on their thin shirt, dipping right down their chest.

Stop stop stop, he thinks suddenly, tearing his eyes away. He’s lucky they’re not looking at him, instead preoccupied with throwing away the roach corpse on the floor. He looks around almost a little frantically to find something, anything else to talk about.

“What’s this?” Carmy asks, peering into the pan on the stovetop.

“I, like, really want garlic bread right now.” They lean onto the counter, looking at the pan with him. “So I was making garlic bread. But then that fucking roach came and killed my vibe.”

This is when Carmy notices that they’re rather drunk.

“Huh,” he says. “Isn’t this, uh, just a piece of bread?”

“Oh.” They pause, lifting the bread gingerly with one finger. “Um, this is so totally a piece of bread. No butter. No nothing.” They start laughing then, leaning harder onto the counter and covering their face. “Fuck, that is so dumb.”

“You were getting there,” he comments, unable to resist an amused smile.

“I couldn’t find the garlic powder,” they admit, face turning into a frown. “Or, like, anything else. But I need garlic bread, Carmy. I need this.”

“We have garlic cloves,” he points out.

“You cannot expect me to mince a fuckin’ garlic right now,” they retort, motioning at him with their arms so aggressively they stumble towards him. Instinctively, he puts his hands on their shoulders, and tries not to think too hard about it.

They’re warm, and they smell like perfume, weed, and alcohol.

“I think you should sit.” Carmy suggests, an eyebrow raised. He doesn’t think he’s seen them this drunk before.

“Hm. Yeah. Imma do that.” They trudge over to one of their bar stools at the kitchen island, slumping onto it. Their shirt droops, revealing more skin, and Carmy pointedly looks away. There’s the sound of their forehead smacking against the counter, and then a groan.

“Uh, you ok?”

“I’m drunk and I want garlic bread,” they whine, flopping their arms across the counter. “But I can’t find the garlic—the garlic powder, and…I’m too stupid to make it right now,” they end in a miserable mumble.

“I could make you some,” Carmy hears himself saying.

“...Really?” They tilt their head up to look at him, eyes big and full of wonder. “You would do that for me?”

“It’s just garlic bread,” he tries, instantly stricken with embarrassment. He hopes he’s hiding it well enough.

“But you’re making it!” They make a contented noise. “Imagine getting the best chef in the world to make you garlic bread.”

“I can do a lot better than garlic bread. Just so you know,” he says, entirely in an attempt to hide the way their praise makes him feel giddy.

“I know.” His attempt backfires—their response is so genuine it makes him feel worse. “You could definitely do a million times better than garlic bread.”

“Maybe not quite a million, but somewhere around there,” he says, and then he starts working.

He starts with a clove of garlic, mincing it quickly on their small wooden cutting board. He stands at the kitchen island with them, eyes flickering between the garlic and their watchful gaze. They’re still strewn across the counter, cheek pressed against the surface.

“You literally mince garlic so good,” they mumble, eyes glued to his knife. “I wanna do it like you.”

“I could teach you.” The garlic is chopped thin, and then scraped against the edge of his knife. “Just takes a lot of practice, really.”

“Teacher Carmy,” they say, almost like a song. They’ve got this big, dopey smile on their face that makes Carmy’s heart hurt. “Mr. Berzattooo,” they add, their smile growing more mischievous.

“I don’t think I like the sound of that,” he admits, words tinged with amusement, and they laugh. “I think we should just stick to chef.”

“Yes, chef!” They salute unnecessarily, and he chuckles.

He takes out the butter—their nice butter, not the spread stuff. Heats it over their pan, scrapes the minced garlic into the hot butter, creating a delicious sizzle.

“You, uh, go out to a bar?” He asks, because he’s curious. It’s easier talking to them with his back turned to them, forced to face the pan.

“Yeah, just went with a couple of friends. I wasn’t scheduled for tomorrow, so I thought a little fun would be nice. But I must say, bars are not exciting on Wednesday nights.”

“Seems like you got to have a good time anyway.”

“Mhm, yeah. They had cheap drinks. I got so many.” They laugh. “They honestly didn’t taste that good.”

“And you kept getting them?”

“It’s just ‘cause they were strong. Sometimes you just wanna get fucked up, y’know? Oh my god, it smells so fuckin’ good right now. What the hell are you doing?”

“It’s just butter and garlic,” he answers honestly.

“This is the best thing ever. You are literally so nice.” The sincerity in their words is so palpable that Carmy feels his stomach twist. “Anyone would be so lucky to be with you.”

Fuck, Carmy thinks distantly. He adamantly refuses to acknowledge how this comment makes him feel.

“I dunno about that,” he replies, a safe neutral even though he can’t help the embarrassment.

“Really?” They blow a raspberry at him. “Well, I like having you as my roommate. That’s something, right?”

Carmy’s glad he’s not facing them. He’s not sure what his expression looks like right now.

“Well. Lucky for me, I guess.” He pauses, listening to the sizzle of the garlic. for a moment. “You’re a good roommate, too. I…didn’t know if I would like having one at all.”

“Oh yeah? You never had one before?”

“Not since culinary school, and they weren’t good.” He sighs at the memory. “But this…I like this.”

“I like it too,” they agree, almost a bit dreamily. “It’s nice not having to be by yourself all the time.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “It is.”

He turns around then, garlic bread plated and in his hand, and they gasp, hands over their mouth.

“Carmy,” they whisper. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” he says, smiling in endearment.

“Um, yeah. And you just made me garlic bread. To a drunk person, garlic bread is the next coming of Christ.” They slide the plate towards them, staring at it with big eyes. “And you put cheese on it!”

“Should I not have?”

“Of course you should have!” They exclaim. “You could’ve put some shit on this I’ve never heard of and I would still eat it. You’re a wizard in the kitchen.”

“Well.” He laughs. Shakes his head. “I’m flattered?”

“You should be,” they whisper. They take a huge bite of it, resounding with a satisfying crunch. “Fuck.” They shake their head from side to side as they eat. “This is so fuckin’ yummy.”

“Good, good.” He nods, pleased. He props his elbows up on the counter, gauging their reaction.

“You are so talented,” they gush, continuing to eat urgently. “And so nice.”

Carmy knows he can’t hide the way his ears go pink.

“Well.” He gives them a shrug he knows looks as half-hearted as it feels. “I do nice things for nice people,” he says finally, mostly because he can't just take the damned compliment.

“I'm nice people?” They repeat, so genuinely earnest that Carmy almost laughs. “That's a relief. I’m, like, so glad you think that, because I can be an annoying piece of shit sometimes.”

“Annoying?” The self deprecation surprises him. They don’t usually talk like this. “I don’t—I don’t think you’re annoying. Have I ever, uh, seemed like I—?”

“Nonono, it has nothing to do with you,” they interrupt with a hiccup, waving their hands. “I just, like, have issues.” They laugh, although Carmy’s positive there’s nothing funny about this. “And I really like you as a, as a roommate,” they stutter clumsily. “So I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“I, I don’t think you would fuck it up.” There’s something a little unsettling about all this, something that’s putting Carmy on edge.

“I always find a way! I just do, because, I’m—I’m not good at being a person,” they blurt out, and then there’s tears spilling all over their cheeks, streaked with black mascara.

Shit, Carmy thinks.

“Hey,” Carmy says softly, gentle and careful. He looks up at them, concerned eyes searching their watery ones. He wishes he had the words, but they're talking again.

“I just can’t do anything right,” they sob, bottom lip wobbling. He’s also not sure if he’s ever seen them crying so hard. Their face is scrunched in pain, skin drenched in tears. “I, I, I can't even fucking make garlic bread!”

“You're drunk,” he reminds them, carefully. “Very drunk.”

“I'm drunk, too,” they wail, and Carmy wonders if he said the wrong thing. “I'm a drunk fuck-up! I, I'm too damaged…”

“Damaged?” He echoes. Their own brutality towards themself takes his words away, and all he can do is repeat their cruelty in disbelief.

“My whole life, I've just,” they whisper, and something about it nestles into his chest and stays there. The feeling of it is familiar. “My—my whole life, I—oh, god—”

They stop with a sharp inhale, slapping their hand on their mouth. It’s a movement that Carmy would recognize just about anywhere.

“Shit,” he curses, and he rushes them to the bathroom.

They’re still crying as they throw up into the toilet, apologizing profusely. Carmy tries not to look, just focusing on holding up their hair.

“I’m sorry,” they apologize again before shoving their face back into the toilet.

“It’s okay. It happens.” He absentmindedly notices that he’s never touched their hair before. It’s soft—must be well taken care of. “You’re doing great right now, okay?”

“Thank you,” they sob, tilting their head to the side to rest their cheek on the toilet seat. He lets their hair fall behind them, instead just keeping one hand on their back. “I’m really s-sorry,” they say again, eyes watery and red.

“It’s okay,” he repeats, because it's all he can say. They seem grateful enough.

I haven’t thrown up like this since college,” they tell him miserably. “I don’t like it.”

“Nobody likes throwing up,” he reasons, and they make a weak noise of agreement.

“Last time, I threw up in my roommate’s bathroom—” they pause, as if fighting a wave of nausea, but it seems to pass. “And I barely missed the toilet,” they whisper, like it’s some sort of dark secret.

“Damn.” Carmy’s not sure if he should be smiling, but he is, just a little bit. “Sounds like you were shitfaced.”

“So shitfaced,” they echo. At least they’re smiling back at him. That’s a good sign. “It was such a mess. I felt so bad.”

“Were they mad?”

“No, they weren’t. They even cleaned it up for me.” They groan. “I felt soooo bad, Carmy. So bad. I was worried they would forever hate me for that.”

“Well, if they weren’t mad at you, I’m sure they wouldn’t hate you for it.”

“I just really didn’t want them to hate me,” they say, and they’re looking so intently into Carmy eyes that it feels like he’s bearing his soul to them. “Are you gonna hate me?”

“I'm not gonna hate you because you're throwing up.” Their hair’s falling into their face, and he moves to tuck it behind their ear before he can think about it. Their cheeks are hot to the touch. “Would I be doing this for someone I hate?”

“Good point,” they mumble. Carmy’s hand lingers behind their ear before moving back to the middle of their back, rubbing little circles. The touch is guiltily electric on his end. “Sometimes I just…think people are waiting for a chance to hate me.”

“I think it’s a bit too late for me to find an excuse to dislike you,” Carmy says. “But…I get it.”

“...You do?”

“Yeah,” he says, even though he’s not sure what else to say. They’re still looking at him, clearly waiting for him to elaborate. “I’m not used to anyone caring much about me.”

“I care about you,” they whisper. “I care about you a lot.”

Silence settles between them as any words Carmy had disappear on the tip of his tongue. They just keep looking at him, their eyes gentle and searching, and he can’t tear his gaze away. He can’t tear his hand off their back, either.

“You shouldn't,” he whispers, strangely honest. “I'm not worth it.”

“Too bad.” He can't look away from their gaze, their eyes that are infinitely knowledgeable. “If I can't care about you, you have to stop being nice to me.”

Carmy opens his mouth to protest, but he can't. They seem to know it, too, with the way a knowing smile creeps up their face.

“I don't wanna do that,” he replies finally.

“Thought so.” Their face glows brilliantly with a smile, and it should be infuriating, but it's not. “So deal with it. Me caring about you.”

He laughs at that, because it's so stupid.

“Stupid,” he laughs, and they laugh back, their giggles echoing into the ring of the toilet. “Y'know, I fucked up today at work.”

“Oh yeah? What happened?”

“I was cutting onions. I've done it a million times, but for some reason, I fucked it all up. Onions got all over the floor, and I had to redo it all. Well, my sous had to redo ‘em.”

He's not sure why he's mentioning this to them, or why he's even mentioning it for a second time, but he is.

“I haven't fucked up like that in forever,” he continues, reliving the memory in the back of his brain. The knife hitting the floor, metal against linoleum. “It was stupid. I hadn't done something so fucking, stupid like that in—god knows how long.”

That can't be the point, he thinks to himself. He can't just bring up him messing up onions just to complain about messing up onions. That's not worth anything, to him or to them. They're drunk, anyhow. Why is he bringing up his issues like this, right now?

“You're allowed to mess up on onions,” they say with surprisingly clarity. Their words carry a measured gentleness that doesn't seem possible from a drunk. “It would be crazy if you never messed up, y'know. Like, ever.”

“But it's been years,” he protests. There's a pressure building. “Years since I messed up like that. And someone had to clean up after my shit. They shouldn't have had to do that.”

“Hm…” They make a thoughtful noise. “It's not like you did it on purpose, right?”

“Of course not.”

“That's what friends are for,” they murmur. “And coworkers. Sometimes. It's ok that you messed up.”

“...” A part of Carmy wants to continue protesting, but it feels futile. “I shouldn't have brought it up, you're still drunk anyway,” he says, mostly to himself, but also because he can't stand to acknowledge it anymore.

“I don't care,” they whisper. “I like it when people talk to me about things.” Carmy feels something twist in his stomach, palpable and physical.

“I’m probably being annoying,” he mutters, and as soon as the words come out of his mouth, he wants to bash his head in for saying something so childish.

“No. You’re not.” They respond before he has a chance to take it back. “I want to know you, Carmy.”

“You already know me.”

“Not as much as I would like,” they mutter, eyes fluttering shut, and Carmy has no choice but to swallow the heavy truth.

“You shouldn't fall asleep here. If you're feeling better, we need to get you into your bed.” He knows it's unfair, changing the subject like this. But he can't bear to look at it anymore than he already has.

Luckily for him, they relent without any protest. They lean up against him as he helps them to their room. It's a bit difficult to wade through the piles of clothes on the floor, but Carmy's no better.

“I really didn't mean to get this fucked up,” they mumble once they're laid back in bed.

“No one does.”

“Maybe not no one,” they mutter, mostly to themself. No comment. They sigh. “What time is it?”

“Uh…2:35,” he says after a beat, searching eyes landing on their bedside analog clock.

“Motherfucker. I'm sorry. Don't you have work tomorrow?”

“I do. But…it's fine.” It's very much not fine, he has to wake up in a couple hours, and yet. Here he is, at the end of it.

“You're sweet. You really are.”

“I'm…not sweet,” is all he can get out, voice quiet.

“Well, I think you're sweet to me. Taking care of me like this.” They outstretch their arms all of a sudden. “Come here? Please?”

He knows what they're asking. They've never hugged before. He’s only a hugger when it comes to family. He's seen them hug friends before, maybe, but him? Never.

He shouldn't get closer, he really shouldn't. But he ends up doing it anyway, because he tells himself he likes the way they say please.

“Can I hug you?” They ask.

“Um,” he says. He nods.

They smile again, as brilliant as ever, and bring him into a tight hug. They smell like the mint mouthwash they insisted Carmy retrieve for them, along with their perfume.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” they say. He’s never heard their voice in his ear like this before. They wrap their arms around his neck then, and Carmy’s heart feels like it’s in his throat.

“No problem,” he gets out, feeling a bit breathless.

Before he can even form the next thought, they’re pressing a sleepy kiss on their cheek before flipping back down on their bed.

Carmy feels like throwing up, but…not in a bad way.

“Good night,” they mumble, so sweet. “And thank you.”

Something in his brain shuts off after that. He walks to his room like a zombie, and he falls asleep nearly instantly.

It turns out that going to bed at 2:30 am the night before work is not so fine at all.

“Sorry I’m late, couldn’t sleep,” Carmy says groggily when he comes in, and everyone’s eyes are on him. They’re staring so intently like there’s something on his face. “What?”

“It’s, uh,” Sydney starts, but Richie swiftly cuts her off.

“Must’ve been a long night, eh?” Richie says with such a shit eating grin that makes Carmy pinch his eyebrows.

“Fuck’s your deal?” Carmy bites back, gesturing at him. The length of his fuse matches the amount of sleep he got—slim to none.

“Nothing, cousin,” Richie replies, even though he’s still grinning like a mad man. “You better be telling me about it later though, got it?”

“Whatever,” Carmy mutters. It’s too early in the day to be dealing with this shit. “Just catch me up on what I missed.”

The day starts off rough, but he gets through it because he has to. Throughout the day, though, he can’t help but get the feeling that people keep looking at him when he’s not looking. Maybe it’s just his typical paranoia, but…

“These look good,” Carmy praises. “Really good,” he reiterates, turning the delicate dessert around on its circular plate. Marcus beams, clearly pleased. It’s a small matcha cake with carefully placed layers of ganache and fruit. Carmy takes a bit of it with a fork, rolling the earthy and tangy flavors around on his tongue.

“How is it?” Marcus asks, eyes firm on him.

“A little crumbly,” Carmy answers honestly. “Did you take my advice from last time?”

“I did,” he replies, frustration evident in his voice. “Think it’s the oven?”

“Maybe. Probably.” Carmy takes another bite. “Try a lower temp. Other than that, though, it’s excellent.”

“Thank you, chef,” Marcus says. “Means a lot.”

“Wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.” He claps Marcus on the back, short and quick. “You’ve been working hard. That’s all.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I have.” He pauses then, staring at Carmy. Just like how everyone has been all damn day. “Uh, Chef?”

“What?” He feels the impatience bubbling up in him, frustrated and confused. “People have been staring at my goddamn face all day like I got some shit on it.”

“You do,” Marcus says. “It’s not shit, though. Looks like…lipstick,” he says after a beat.

“Lipstick?” A rock drops in his stomach. Carmy raises his hand to his face, searching.

“On your left,” he clarifies. “By your ear.”

He rubs aggressively there, but he pulls his fingers back without any color on it.

“Did I get it?”

“Well, I thought you did.” Marcus makes a noise, thoughtful. “Guess it’s one of those permanent ones.”

“Permanent?” Carmy repeats, a little hysterical.

“Semi permanent,” Marcus clarifies. He seems amused.

Carmy rushes into their small, shitty bathroom, getting close to the streaked mirror. He angles his head to find the stain. Sure enough, it’s right here on his cheek. It’s a dark, reddish color, in the smeared but recognizable shape of a kiss mark.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. His head feels hot. It must’ve happened last night, when they kissed him right before falling asleep.

Semi-permanent, he hears Marcus say in the back of his head. Of course it is.

With a wet paper towel, he scrubs at the mark so hard it hurts. Even so, it remains, still clear on his pale, reddened skin. He wishes his hair was long enough to hide it.

“It’s not coming off,” he says, stressed upon returning to Marcus’ station. He hopes he doesn’t sound as hysterical as he feels. Sydney’s there too, chewing on the matcha pastry Carmy had earlier. “Why the fuck isn’t it coming off?”

“You’ll probably need a makeup wipe. I think I have some in my bag if you want one,” Sydney offers. Carmy swears she has a halo around her head. “Just a warning, though, they’re old as fuck. I haven’t worn makeup in a long time.”

“It’s fine. Can I take one?” Carmy runs a stressed hand through his hair. “Can’t believe no one fuckin’ told me. I—I fucking greeted customers like this!”

“It’s cool, Carm. At least it wasn’t a hickey,” Marcus reasons, and Carmy thinks his ears go hot.

“Thank god,” he replies, sarcastic, and they have the nerve to laugh at him. “Shut up,” he tries, but there’s no real heat behind it. Sydney leaves and comes back with a semi-dried up makeup a minute later.

“Don’t get mad if it doesn’t work,” Sydney states, a cautionary disclaimer. “It might be one of those that has a specific remover.”

“Are you serious?” The sigh that comes out is full of disdain. “Fuck me.”

“Day’s already almost done, if it makes it any better,” Marcus notes with a cheeky smile, and Carmy just shakes his head.

The makeup wipe doesn’t work. Carmy tries not to get mad, but maybe he does. Maybe just a little bit.

“It’ll come off with enough washes,” Sydney reassures him. Tina’s standing with her now, too, eyeing him like a spectacle. Everyone seems to be enjoying his misery.

“Just ask your girl to get rid of it for you,” Tina says, an eyebrow raised. She raises a thumb to his cheek, rubs at the mark like a mom. “Damn. Shit’s on there.”

“They’re not—it’s not like that,” he sputters. He’s been trying to get through the day without anyone asking about it, but now that there’s some down time, there’s no stopping anyone.

“A one night stand?” Tina guesses, eyes widening. She laughs and smacks him on the arm. “Didn’t think you had it in you, boy!”

“It’s not that, either,” Carmy stresses. He knows he’s getting overly flustered about it, but he can’t help it. His eyes flicker towards the clock. They’re closing soon. “Just forget it, okay? Please.”

He can tell from their expressions that neither of them want to forget about it, but by some stroke of luck, they’re considering letting it go. Just for now. That’s enough of a victory for now, so he’ll take it.

At least, it would’ve been a victory if Richie didn’t take that very opportunity to step into the kitchen.

“Been trying to find you all day, bastard!” Richie hollers, slinging an arm over Carmy’s hunched shoulder. Carmy sighs, expressive in his annoyance. “Looks like this baby’s finally growing up, huh?”

“I’m 30, asshole,” Carmy says, tiredly, but that never works. Richie’s still talking, anyhow.

“So? Do I know the chick?” Richie’s grin makes Carmy want to punch him.

“No,” he replies, flatly. He’s so tired. “And it’s not what you think. It was just, they’re, uh…”

“Oh shit, cousin!” Richie’s laughing, obnoxiously loud in his ears. “Didn’t think you were capable of—“

“It’s not a one night stand. Already guessed that,” Tina interrupts him.

“What?” He sounds annoyed, like he has the right to be more irritated than Carmy himself. “Then what’s the secret third option? Or are you lying to my face?”

“They’re my roommate,” Carmy explains, finally.

There’s a beat of silence. And then, uproarious noise.

“You have a roommate?” Is Richie’s first question. The second: “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“Is, like, dating a roommate a good idea? No offense,” Sydney says, hands raised in defense. “Just wondering.”

“It’s not,” Tina answers for her, sharp eyes narrowed at him. But strangely enough, she’s smiling nonetheless.

“They’re my roommate, we’re not dating, and I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d be weird about it!” He shouts over the noise, directing the last one at Richie. “Look—they were just drunk, and I was helping them because they were fucking throwing up. Happy now?”

“And they kissed you,” Richie points out. He’s grinning like he knows some big secret.

“Fuck, okay, can we stop fucking talking about this now? It was just an accident, it’ll be gone tomorrow, and we’re never gonna mention this shit again!”

Carmy gets saved by some distant catastrophic noise in the back, somewhere around the freezer. He leaves without a word. Behind him, he hears raucous laughter mostly to Richie’s tune.

Before he leaves for the night, he stops by the bathroom one more to try and get it off. Predictably, it remains stubborn and stalwart through soap, hot water, and scrubbing. The skin under it is red with irritation, and Carmy knows that he's getting nowhere. If anything, he's making it worse.

His eyes linger on the blotted lipstick on his face. It's smudged, but he can see the cracks and the shape of their lips. His gaze follows the lines of it.

The memory burns bright in his head for a split second. It bursts in like a flashbang, intense and unavoidable. There's a phantom sensation of their lips on his cheek, the smell of their perfume, the warmth of their embrace, and it's, it's just—

Carmy shuts the lights off and heads out. He needs this lipstick mark gone by morning.

When he gets home, the apartment is dark. Unoccupied. As he flicks on the lights, he searches for them. They're usually home before him most nights. However, it seems tonight is an anomaly. He walks down the hallway past his room to theirs, and their ajar door reveals an empty bedroom.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself. Just his luck.

He opens his phone then, a last resort. He has his messages pulled up, but his thumbs hover over the keyboard and stay there.

How the hell does he even word this?

Hey, I need lipstick remover.

No, that isn't enough information. Who knows how many types of remover there could be? What if it isn't the right one? He needs to be more specific.

Hey, I need lipstick remover for the lipstick you were wearing last night.

That sounds even stranger. Too specific, although it's the truth. That's what he needs. But he can't just…type that, can he? No, there's no way.

Is there any way he can get out of saying that there's lipstick on his face from last night and not make it weird? He wishes they were here so he could just show them. Words have never been his forte. There's little hope for him now.

Please come home right now, he briefly considers typing. It's by far the worst one out of all of them.

After pacing for a solid five minutes, he decides to send a hopefully neutral message.

Hey, you out for the night?

It's still pretty weird. Carmy is not a texter. There's not much he needs to talk about that can't wait until he sees them next. They're usually the one texting him, and it's usually only about groceries or bills. However, he tells himself it's fine because there's no note left on the counter. They always leave a note when they go out.

…They always leave a note when they go out.

This thought resets his pacing around the apartment, frantically looking for the square shape and vivid color of a sticky note. That's how they usually do it, and it's typically on the kitchen counter. So, it's honestly a futile effort to be looking around the whole place, but he does so anyway.

He looks at his phone. It's been almost 10 minutes, and still no response.

This isn't unnatural by any means. They always end up responding eventually, but the prickling anxiety is getting pricklier by the second.

They've got to be so hungover. There's no way they're out again tonight, he thinks to himself, and he's positive it has to be true.

They're missing, and you're not ever gonna get this shit off your face, his brain adds helpfully.

That's what finally kicks him into gear and forces him to press the call button.

It rings for a long time. The more it rings, the longer he stands there in the kitchen, the stupider and more anxious he feels. It's a pitiful feeling to be consumed by, but here he is, unable to resist.

However, when they finally pick up, he's not sure if he feels completely relieved. A different part of his anxiety is spiking now.

“Carmy?” Their voice carries a trace of static through the phone speaker.

“Yeah, hey. You see my text?”

“Oh, oops. Sorry, I missed it. Is everything ok?”

“Where are you?” He asks instead.

“I'm just gettin’ a drink from the corner store. Why? You want me to grab something for you?”

The absolute nonchalance in their voice humbles him, reducing him to complete embarrassment.

“Uh, no, I don't need anything. I mean, uh, I do actually need something from you, though,” he amends hastily.

“Sure, what's up? I guess it must be important if you're calling, right?”

“I, um—yeah, kinda important,” he says with attempted tranquility, completely ignoring how much he was freaking out earlier. “So…you got, uh, lipstick remover?”

“Lipstick remover?” Their surprise makes him shrivel. “Well, I have a couple types of makeup remover…”

“I think it needs to be specific?”

“You think it needs to be specific? What exactly are we dealing with here?” Their voice carries bewildered amusement.

“It's, uh…” He swallows. He can't tiptoe around it anymore. “It's…yours?”

“...Huh?”

“You got some lipstick on me last night, and it's not coming off,” he says finally, mortifyingly, and the line goes silent.

“Fucking—I'm so sorry, my memory is spotty from last night and I, I thought I imagined that, and, uh—” They awkwardly clear their throat. “I'm sorry, I really am. It's not supposed to transfer like that, but I guess it just…”

“It's okay,” he says, despite how hysterical it made him earlier. That part isn't their fault. “It's just, uh, really staying on there.”

“Shit. Of course. It's this super resilient lipstick I use for when I go out drinking, because it's not supposed to come off like, at all, so it comes with this specific remover—I'm sorry, I don’t need to be rambling like this.” They laugh nervously. “I'm on my way home now, but it should be on my desk if you wanna look at it. It's a black tube, which…isn't very specific, I guess. And my desk is really messy…”

“I'll start looking,” Carmy decides.

“I'm sorry,” they reply miserably.

“It's okay. You said you were coming home now?”

“Yes. Yes, I am. I'll see you soon, okay?”

“Cool. See you.”

The call ends. Carmy just stands there for a minute. It's like a tidal wave just rushed over him, and now the water is slowly settling to a stand still.

Black tube, he thinks. How hard can that be?

Very hard, it seems.

Their room is comfortably messy. Definitely not as messy as his. There's some clothes on the floor, jackets on chairs, underwear he turns his gaze away from (don't imagine them in that lace one lying in the corner or the flowery one or the fucking thong he didn't see anything), but that's about it. Nothing outside of typical clutter, in his opinion.

The desk, though. The desk.

He doesn't think he can even see the surface of it. There's just lots of little things scattered across it, from piles of jewelry to stacks of papers and books. It's like an ispy book.

He stares at it, trying to find a black tube. He quickly realizes how much of a futile effort it's going to be.

In this moment, he thinks about how he's never spent much time in their room. The two of them usually hang out in the living room. Besides, he's not one to go snooping around in someone's personal space. Until being pushed to his limits and being given explicit permission, that is.

He leans in, peering closer at the scattered items. There's a little bit of everything. Receipts, make-up brushes, scissors, paper scraps, empty water cups, hair ties, empty candy wrappers, lipsticks…none of which are black tubes.

Maybe it's not on their desk. Maybe it's on a different shelf.

They said it was on their desk, a voice in his head says, but he’s not listening.

The next closest thing is their nightstand. It's a little messy, but nowhere near as bad as their desk. There's a melatonin bottle, some lip balm, a bedside lamp. He squints, seeing what might be more pills or maybe skincare until a dark tube catches his eye.

When he picks it up, he realizes it's not black, instead being a dark blue. Also, it's not a tube, it's more of a bottle.

The text on it also reads as lube, not lipstick remover.

…Lube?

It's lube, his brain repeats, helpful as ever.

I can see that, he thinks back.

“Hello? Carmy?”

A familiar voice has him scrambling to put the lube back. He moves it back to the night stand more quickly than he could have ever expected of himself.

“Hey, I'm in your room,” he calls back, hoping that his fabricated nonchalance comes off as believable. He steps out of their room into the hallway, and they appear at the end of it.

The first he notices is how much better they look when he saw them last. To be fair, the last time he saw them, they were sobbing and throwing up into the toilet, drunk out of their mind, but still. It's still an improvement. Their cheeks are flushed from the cold, and their hair is mussed from being outside.

“Hey. Did you find it?”

“I couldn't find it,” he admits. He steps out of the way to let them through, and then he follows them back into their room.

“Yeah, sorry, my desk is a fucking nightmare,” they mutter darkly, making a beeline for their desk. “I swear I took it out and put it right here…Ah, yes!”

Miraculously, they pull it out. It looks like a lipstick in itself, and when they uncap it, it just looks like a white lip balm.

“So, do I just…rub it on?”

“Well—yeah, you should, but it emulsifies with water, so you just use water and then use a cotton pad…” Carmy supposes the confusion isn't too well masked on his face. “Can I see where it is?” They ask tentatively.

Wordlessly, Carmy turns his head. He supposes they're just glad they didn't see it immediately.

“Oh.” When he turns to face them again, their cheeks are dark with color. It's not a look he's used to seeing on them. “I'm sorry,” they say again with a downturned head.

“It's okay,” Carmy says again, and he means it. He brings a hand to his cheek subconsciously. “I just…”

“Let me take it off,” they insist, guilt knitted in their expression, and that's how Carmy ends up seated on the toilet seat.

“Now I'm the one getting patched up on the toilet,” he says quietly. He wonders if it was the wrong thing to say, but it makes them laugh.

“So, um, when did you notice?” They ask. The tube uncaps with a small pop.

“A couple hours ago,” he admits. The balm feels smooth and oily against his cheek. “I had no idea, but my coworkers, uh…”

“Oh my god,” they mutter under their breath. “I just don't think I'm ever gonna stop apologizing for this.”

“It's fine, really,” he insists, even though he was manically scrubbing at his skin earlier. “It was sorta funny,” he adds, even though he was freaking out while everyone else was laughing. They don't need to know.

“That's good, at least.”

“Yeah. It was—uh…”

He feels their thumb rubbing circles into his cheek, and the words disintegrate like sand in the wind.

“Sorry, this is just one of those things that takes a little bit of work to get off.” Their tone projects a casual indifference to it, but their voice is so quiet that it feels unfairly intimate.

“I didn't know lipstick could be this…intense,” Carmy hears himself say. He's far away, still trapped in the feeling of their hand on his face.

“It's what you need for an intense night out,” they reply with a small smile. He looks up at them then, meeting their dark eyes, but they're concentrated on the spot on his cheek. When they catch him looking, though, they don't look away.

“Are you feeling better?” He asks quietly. He can’t stop looking.

“A lot better. Yesterday was rough, but I'm feeling okay now.”

“Good.”

“Yeah. Um…” They lean back, breaking eye contact, and Carmy feels a pressure releasing. They grab a wet paper towel and carefully drag it across his cheek. “Thanks again, by the way. For putting up with me last night. I mean, it was more than just putting up, but…y'know.”

“Sure,” he says, much softer than intended. “It happens.”

“I think you're just nice,” they tease, fully intended to be light-hearted, but because Carmy's the way that he is, it weighs heavily in his chest.

“Sometimes,” he mumbles, because that's all he can bear to say.

Because last night, they looked him in the eyes and whispered that they wanted to know him. That they thought he was sweet, he was kind. They spoke with such earnestness that for a split second, Carmy considered believing them about everything, even though that’s always the wrong thing to do.

Because once he believes them a little bit, he’ll start acting like he’s a good person. He’ll fool everyone around him, even himself.

Then, the inevitability that is his self-destruction will arrive like it’s always promised. He will mess everything up like he always does, sharp-edged flaws unfurling from the inside out. They’ll slice everyone he was able to fool into getting close enough.

The least he can do is try and give some kindness back before it happens.

“Just take the compliment,” they say with a small grin. “Y'know, I don't remember everything from last night. There's bits and pieces I know that're missing. But from what I do remember…” They make one final wipe at his cheek. “You have to let me be nice to you.”

He remembers, too.

So deal with it, they had said. Me caring about you.

“How could I forget,” he tries to joke, but his laugh comes out sounding far too breathless. Luckily for him, their laugh, much more tangible and believable, joins his own.

“I said some crazy shit last night, I know.” They take a seat next to him on the edge of the bathtub. “But I meant it. I like being your friend, Carmy. I hope I didn’t say too much.”

“You didn't say too much. You were just drunk.” He feels a bit stunned.

“Okay,” they accept after a beat. “I mean, you're right. I was just drunk. Um…” They gesture towards his face. “I got the mark off, by the way.”

Carmy stands up and checks his face in the mirror. Sure enough, it's gone. He feels relief wash over him like a breeze, and another feeling he can't place. It's…It's…

“Thanks,” he says, and they nod.

“It's the least I could do.” They stand up, too, and walk out of the bathroom. They stand in the doorway for a moment before looking at him. “I'm gonna smoke. You wanna join?”

It's…

“Yeah, for sure. I'll be just a sec.”

Then it's just him in the bathroom, the door shut as he stares at his reflection. The harsh fluorescent bathroom light casts harshly down the planes of his face, creating dark shapes on his face. He stares at the spot where the lipstick mark used to be. The longer he stares, the more the unnamed feeling stretches outwards.

When it drops in his stomach, that’s when he realizes.

The feeling is disappointment.

@zorrasucia

#carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #carmen berzatto #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #WHEEEEE CHAPTER 2 LETS GO!!!!!! thanks everyone for the kind words on ch 1.... it made me very happy..... i love carmy so much. so very muc #this chapter is all over the place but that's just whats up #my stuff #my writing #also hello zs i hope that's what u meant by tagging u LOL i'm a newbie to this #my fics #carmy #reader #alexithymia fic

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ivestas · 2 years

Note

Hello. I saw your post and would you be up for doing a bit on a reader who cares little about themselves but cares deeply for the team?

love deterrence

Summary: You care about the 141 more than yourself to a worrisome degree.

Tags: platonic!141 x soldier!fem!reader, mentally ill reader (implied), headcanon format, reader implied to be young, unedited

Word count: 1.3k

Notes: ANON... THE MOMENT I SAW THIS I DROPPED EVERYTHING. the requests I get r always top tier, BUT THIS IS S +. also my bad for this being price/soap/ghost-centric, theyre the characters im most confident in writing---and, also also, SEND REQUESTS. you guys are so slay w reqs its actually insane

You were a soldier—a good one at that.

Thorough in your assignments, fearless on the field, and reliable. Truly, it’s something any enlister would seek out.

That was Price’s initial thoughts—everyone else’s, really. You liked to get shit done and you were determined to always, always see through a mission’s completion.

It was a trait that, at first, wasn’t noticeable, but it intensified the longer you stayed with the 141.

Many things increased the longer you were with them: you went from formal to friendly, quiet to outspoken, frigid to warm... you grew comfortable. They each took notice in their own way—with Soap being the one to constantly reciprocate and encourage in his own way; despite his loud character, he was subtle in pushing you out of your bubble.

Even Ghost encouraged you... in his own way.

“You look like you wanna say something, spit it out, kid.”

It was hard not to warm up to them, and vice versa; the team was as tightly knit as they come, and you could confidently say that you’d trust your life in their hands...

...but, you’d much rather they worry about you last.

And that was when Ghost was the first to notice your recklessness on the field when it came to them; the moment you heard one of them was in danger, you’d be quick to finish the area in such a careless manner and rush to them—and many, many times he’d berate you about it.

“Kid, when I tell you to stay put, you stay put.”

“But—“

“No fuckin’ ‘buts’, you shut up and listen, understand?!”

“...yes sir.”

But you always disobeyed. At one point, Ghost demanded Price to put you on temporary leave because of how worrisome it was getting—you’d listen to every single order and follow through in quick succession, but the moment it came to your safety, you just..?

And that’s when it clicked to Ghost: you didn’t care. It was their lives over yours, and something about that just pissed him off.

(Maybe it was because he understood the feeling, and he hated knowing that you felt it too. You were young, you shouldn’t feel that way—not now, not ever.)

Price would catch on later around the same time Soap did—although the two certainly weren’t dumb, it’s just the mere fact that they didn’t understand the way Ghost did—they’ve had their mental pitfalls, but not the abject depression that pushes one to feel so little about themselves.

They’d find out much later—you’ve become sneakier in protecting them, something that Ghost still catches from time to time but can’t butt in since you were so damn clever with it—and it was when an enemy tossed a bomb in your and Soap’s direction that your nature dawned on him.

You were quick to toss the bomb back, and not only did you do that, but you shielded him from the blast by throwing yourself onto him despite the fact you were smaller than he.

Luckily, the blast didn’t harm you, only leaving you with a few scrapes and ringing ears.

But, the moment he got back up on his feet, you were fretting.

“You okay, Soap? You’re not hurt, are you—?!”

“Lass, worry about yourself, I’m fine!”

“Are you sure?”

It was like talking to a brick wall: terribly frustrating.

Price, having been a few feet away and had shielded from the blast, saw the spectacle and almost laughed.

It was ridiculous to him—you threw yourself, but you’re worrying about the muscle-bound soldier?

He didn’t like soldiers who tried to play hero—especially soldiers who were hardly grown. Especially soldiers who seemed to lack care for themselves.

So, Price would start sneaking in sentiments of care: complimenting you outside the field, (”You made that, sergeant? Great job, it looks wonderful.”) trying to hear you communicate your own interests, things about you.

Soap already does that, and Ghost soon follows too, though slowly. He wasn’t good at praising—his compliments were always so awkward, no better than his fucked up jokes that he cracked at the worst times.

Price always made sure to give you the best cots, Ghost would give you a portion of his food because...

“I’m watching my weight.”

“What?”

“You heard me, sergeant. I’m watching my weight.”

“...you’re literally a soldier—“

“Just eat the food kid, don’t make me repeat myself.”

Soap was the only direct one—the other two didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for you, but Soap was, well... Soap.

“Look, kid, lass, you need to start lookin’ out for yerself.”

“I am already, don’t worry—“

“You stood in front of Price when you thought there was an enemy sniper.”

“He’s the captain! I gotta protect him!”

“You could’ve just told him—listen, I don’t like using threats, that’s the L.T’s thing, not mine, but if you continue to treat your arse like a meatshield, I’m gonna make sure you’re put on leave again, okay?”

It becomes a struggle after that: you felt overwhelming guilt for feeling guilt, for being ‘selfish’, or feeling guilty for taking risky actions in order to protect them because you know they’ll feel bad.

It’s a perpetual struggle that you didn’t know what to do about, and it’s at the worst time you broke down.

You and Ghost were cleaning up the mess hall since Soap won a bet against him, and when you picked up an extra plate more than Ghost, you began overthinking.

Was this gonna piss off Ghost? Were you going to make him feel bad? Were you doing this for yourself or for him? Why did you do that—should you give him the plate? What should you do? What’s the right thing?

As much as the guys tried to ease your mind, I think they did the opposite: and, at that moment, you couldn’t stop the tears.

That made you even guiltier, especially when Ghost noticed.

But, all he said was “talk.” His voice was uncharacteristically soft, and with that allowance, you spoke.

It was incoherent: a babbling mess of “sorrys” and admissions of guilt for shit he didn’t even know one could feel guilty for—you shook, moments would jump where you would collect yourself for a few seconds before bursting once more.

Taking the dishes from your hands, he set them back on the table and engulfed you in an awkward but strong hug. He didn’t trust himself to say anything right, but he hoped—prayed—that you knew the sentiments.

And you did—you reciprocated immediately, burying your face into his bulletproof vest; heaving, shaking, breaking.

He was then at a crossroads: you were unstable. Guilt like that—this faux selflessness that was really something more tragic—it only leads to one thing, a thing he couldn’t bring himself to name.

So, the same night when he was sure you were asleep, he went straight to Price.

“Sir.”

“Yes, Ghost?”

“The kid—she can’t stay. She needs to see a professional.”

Price sighed. “You don’t think I’m tryin’? Been trying to reach a psychologist—therapist—whomever. Laswell’s said she’s workin’ on it, so we’ll see.”

“But she can’t stay, this type of job, it’s not good for her mind.”

“That’s up to her. You can’t just kick someone out—it’s ain’t that simple.”

Ghost opened his mouth, ready to spit back, but Price cut in, stern. “It’s up to her. I’ll make sure she sees a professional at least bi-weekly, but you can’t force a leave on her.”

Ghost settled with that, though not completely satisfied.

When you eventually do see a professional, you get a little better—you recognize the patterns, the triggers, the reasons. It’s easier to dissemble the mess that your mind is and just understand.

Although you’re a little more careful now, more thoughtful about your own body, there’s always a level of protection you place on them that they know is irremovable: it’s care.

And they reflect that care right back at you, both in and out of the field.

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

#modern warfare 2 x reader #modern warfare x reader #mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #soap x reader #john mctavish x reader

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paperstorm · 3 months

Text

Thanks for the tags @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut and @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad!

Carlos watches as TK’s arms begin to drop, starting to pull out of the hug, but Andrea doesn’t let him. She keeps him close and TK smiles to himself and wraps his arms back around her.

“We haven’t seen you, since …” Andrea leans back just enough so she can cup TK’s cheek in her hand and look at him.

TK exhales and nods. “Yeah. Thank you for the flowers. They were really beautiful. And the casserole, too, that was really thoughtful.”

Gabriel quietly clears his throat, patting Carlos briefly on the shoulder and then moving toward the kitchen. Carlos should probably follow him, but he feels rooted to the floor. TK’s eyes dart sideways, catching Carlos’s glance just for a second and then returning to Andrea’s.

“How are you?” she asks, finally letting him go but placing her hand on his forearm.

“Managing,” TK answers. “Carlos has been wonderful.”

Carlos swallows. His mother turns to look at him, creases beside her brown eyes as she smiles and says, “I’m glad to hear it.”

His little finger twitches and he puts his hand into the pocket of his jeans. He longs to take TK’s pain away and he feels so helpless, sometimes, when he’s forced to reckon with the fact that he can’t.

Turning back to TK, Andrea gently says, “I won’t push, it’s not the time.”

TK shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. I’m okay. Thank you for caring.”

“I wish I’d known Gwyn. The one time we met, she was so lovely. I wish there was more time, for everyone.”

“Me too.”

“And listen, mijo.” Andrea takes his hands and holds them in hers, shaking slightly to punctuate her words. “No one, no one, could ever replace your mamá and I would never try. But I am always here. If you need some mothering, you just come right here.”

Carlos licks his lips and blinks, afraid for just a moment about how TK’s going to react. He has seemed okay the last few weeks, and that’s lodged a sliver of worry into Carlos’s mind. He can’t imagine how inconsolable he would be if he lost his own mom, and they haven’t been as close as TK was with Gwyn since Carlos was very small. TK should, Carlos thinks, be shedding a lot more tears than he is, and he’s anxious about what it means that TK isn’t.

When he shuts down like he did today, it is always a warning sign, Gwyn had said once, with tension in her forehead and fear in her eyes. Carlos never knew that version of his boyfriend. TK’s been sober every minute that Carlos has known him, despite how many broken pieces of himself he’d been carefully carrying from room to room while this thing between them was new. Gwyn could sense warning signs that Carlos never can, even though her fears had been unfounded that particular evening. TK was in trouble, lots of it, but not the kind she’d been fearing.

He isn’t worried TK’s been using in secret. They spend every day together, they sleep in the same bed and eat at the same table and lounge in front of the television in each other’s arms, Carlos has at least enough faith in his investigatory and observational skills to be certain he would notice if TK’d slipped. And he trusts TK, he trusts him the way Carlos has never trusted anyone and might never again. He isn’t worried there are illicit substances wedging distance between them. But he’s worried about what TK might do instead, if he’s shutting down and boxing up his grief and walking through the world with vital shades of himself locked away.

But TK just smiles and gives Andrea another long hug. “Thank you. I will.”

Tags under the cut

Tagging @theghostofashton @birdclowns @reyesstrand @strandnreyes

@carlos-in-glasses @actual-sleeping-beauty @thisbuildinghasfeelings @heartstringsduet @herefortarlos

@tailoredshirt @goodways @alrightbuckaroo @lightningboltreader @freneticfloetry

@mooshkat @liminalmemories21 @nancys-braids @chaotictarlos @lemonlyman-dotcom

@whatsintheboxmh @inkweedandlizards @bonheur-cafe @reasonandfaithinharmony

@never-blooms @sanjuwrites @orchidscript @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng

@fallout-mars @honeybee-taskforce @fifthrideroftheapocalypse @fitzherbertssmolder @safeashousespdf

@just-inside-her @firstprince-history-huh @captain-gillian @tellmegoodbye @ironheartwriter

Want to be added or removed from the list? Lmk

#911ls fanfic #wip wednesday #paperstorm writes #missing moments

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tartigglez · 2 years

Note

Hello tunblr user that I have NEVER spoken to before

Can I pretty please request dragon!zhongli doing dragon!Zhongli things

Like hoarding shiny things, and having a tail and hating random plants and squid 😭😭😭😭 idk I’m just hoping that something in this magically inspires your brain BUT feel free to ignore me

(I also really wanted to initiate ur ask box lol)

~ 🌷 anon <3

Why hello there tumblr user who i have also never spoken to! i hope this is uh,,, acceptable.

it was so hard to find a title for this oml

"my natural form...?"

zhongli x gn!reader

genre: fluff, pure unfiltered fluffiness, such fluff, many fluffitude

word count: 500-ish

tags: retail addict zhong bc we love to see it, possessive zhong, zhong hates fish zhong, protective zhong (hes a cutie patootie guys omgomomgomgomgogmogmHDKAJH), venti makes a cameo/reader is a traveller but not tHE traveller bc THEYRE MINORS I REFUSE TO WRITE THAT. thats kinda it

tw/cw: possessive dragon boi, it lowkey seems like lightly toxic behaviour but i think thats it

a/n: i wrote a little smol bit of this every night this week so its maybe a bit disjointed but whatever. this was fun to write ty tulip bb. zhongli is the cutest im so sOFT FOR THIS MAN AAAA. also send me asks, ples, pls, plsssssssss, pls.

dragon!zhongli who will buy pretty things without even realising that he quite literally has a retail addiction. will put things in random places in your house then get really confused when you move them. he keeps closely monitored stock of everything.

“darling, have you seen my golden vase anywhere”

“which golden vase?”

“the one i purchased last week, at the market”

“i put flowers in it, it’s in the kitchen”

“okay, okay, good”

“you seem awfully worried about it”

“i am not, i simply… wished to know where it was… is all.”

“i see.”

dragon!zhongli who is lowkey possessive over you but refuses to admit it, also he feels that jealousy is not a good shade on him. But he’s a dragon, and you’re his most prized treasure, so it is only natural to him to protect you, right? it can’t be helped. he's got a really good sense of smell, so he can always tell who you’ve been around in the past few hours, but won’t tell you because he's afraid it’ll freak you out.

(side note: he totally loves your scent and will compliment you on it all the time, like he’ll bury his head in your neck to calm himself down omg)

“my dear, who was with you earlier?”

“the guild had me teleport to mondstadt for a commission, why?”

“nothing my love, i simply- nevermind”

you look him in the eyes doubtfully

“tell.”

“alright. you were with the anemo archon, yes?”

“i was. i was sent out to windrise to fight some hilichurls, i ran into him and he helped me defeat them, why?”

“nothing, darling. the hilichurls didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“when has a hilichurl ever hurt me?”

“it is difficult to argue with that logic.”

dragon!zhongli who despite literally creating the harbour, refuses to go near the markets. he cannot stand the smell of the seafood that the merchants sell, so despite trying to “blend in” whilst in his mortal form, he will rarely be sighted outside the innermost parts of the city.

“li’”

“yes, dear?”

“shall we take a stroll by the harbour? i have a free hour this afternoon and we should spend some time together. i haven’t spent much time with you this week, and i've missed you.”

“i have missed you too, love, however i think that-”

“you think?”

“i think that it is rather cold, down by the harbour. Shall we go to the teahouse instead?”

dragon!zhongli who is unconsciously protective of you in his sleep. he will wrap his tail around your form when cuddling, as a literal natural response. puts it around your waist and between your arms whilst spooning you so you can hug it like a teddy bear whilst he puts little kisses on your shoulders as you doze off. tells you the stories of years gone by as you sleep to vent his worries.

“li’”

“darling?”

“tell a story”

“must i?”

“yes, you must!”

“very well my dear, close your eyes.”

#zhongli #zhongli headcanons #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin headcanons #cael is talking to 🌷 anon :0

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hanniefangz · 1 year

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his universe - ★｡･:*:･ﾟ

pairing: dad!jisung x F!reader

tags: fluff, angst [kinda]

summary: jisung is worried about not being a good father to his daughter, y/n convinces him otherwise.

word count: 2K

it wasn't unusual for you to hear the soft patter of footsteps along the hallway carpet as your boyfriend, jisung, paces up and down it. it was a sign he was anxious, and whilst most days you were able to tell what it was about just from a look in his eyes, today he wouldn't give you so much as a glimpse into his worries. if you weren't preoccupied right now, you would've have immediately gone out to soothe him, but your arms were currently rocking your daughter back and forth as the sleepy baby gargles she was making slowly quietened into a tiny snore. once she was settled, you places her gently in her crib, flicking off the nightlight and slowly meeting jisung in the hallway as you close the nursery door. his pacing stops and his gaze drops to the floor and he's stood right in front of you, so you place a soft hand on his shoulder.

“ji? are you ready to talk yet? aera is finally asleep” you speak to him softly, hoping that he'll be able to open up to you now. he'd been in an anxious state all day, barely any words spoken between the both of you, in the short time you'd seen each other since he'd gotten home from work and you'd been busy with aera. he looks up slowly, tears forming at the corner of his eyes and he nods, letting out a sniffle. your heart almost breaks in two seeing him like this.

“come on love, let's go talk.” you softly take his hand, and walk into your own bedroom. he sits on the bed, and you sit beside him, hand still in yours the entire time.

“what's going on ji?” he looks back up at you, tears falling fully now and attempts to start, finding it difficult each time, but he gets there eventually, your eyes never leaving him for a second.

“i feel like im not a good enough dad for aera.” he sighs between sobs. you frown and his tears spill harder.

“oh ji, you're such a good dad for her, i promise. the best even, why do you think you're not?”

“i’m never here, i haven't spent any time with her because i'm always working, when we start touring or have another comeback im going to be here even less and i feel like im just going to be abandoning you both. i leave you to do absolutely everything because i'm terrified of doing it wrong. she adores you, of course she does, you're the only one she sees everyday. im just there sometimes. i don't have time to spend with either of you as much as i want to and i hate it because i don't want to chose between you and my work, because i love it all too much. i don't know what to do y/n. i feel like im being torn in two.” his tears have since stopped but you can still feel his shaky breaths as he speaks quickly. it's hard for you to take it all in, but you get the overall message and your heart breaks for him even more, tears springing to your own eyes.

“jisung. i promise you that you are the most amazing dad that aera, actually scratch that, anyone, could ever ask for. it's okay that you're not here all the time, you're providing for us both and i don't expect you to give up your big dream for the two of us. we're here to support you, always. just think about how many presents you've bought for her that she can't even thank you for yet. you wrote her a song and begged for it to be put on the next album because she's your whole world, how many kids can say their dad did that? you come home to us both every single night, you give her goodnight cuddles and sing her lullaby's. yeah sure, there's a lot that you don't know how to do, but we're only young ji. im still learning as well. we've got time. we're in this together. you're an amazing dad. and you're doing so so well. im so proud of you baby.” tears are now streaming down both of your faces as he holds you close to his chest, stroking your hair softly.

“you really mean that?”

“every single word of it ji. you're doing so good.”

“thank you baby, you are too. im proud of you too. you're the best mom to aera.”

“thank you.” you sigh softly against his chest, basking in the warmth of your bodies being pressed together, you crave these moments more than anything. you sit there for a few moments, calming both of your breathing, and you break the silence after a while.

“she really loves you, you know.” jisung pulls away from the hug and looks at you, his head slightly tilted quizzically.

“hmm?”

“the way she looks at you, she looks like she's looking at the whole universe. you are her whole universe.” you smile at him softly and he looks down shyly.

“i mean it ji, she does. she loves you so much. how could she not. you're you.”

your hand moves up to softly stroke his cheek, pinching it softly making him giggle. one of your favourite noises in the whole world, making warmth flood through your veins and a soft blush appearing on your face.

“you're so cute. i love you.” you whisper, and you give him a soft kiss on the lips, rubbing his cheek with your hand again.

“i love you too.” he replies with a tiny smile.

the two of you decide to go downstairs and make some dinner, even if it was a bit late, you'd both been too occupied to think about eating earlier and the hunger was catching up to you. you offer to cook, giving him the option to watch something on the tv, but he insists on at least sitting in the kitchen with you, but decides to help you anyway by cutting up the veggies for your meal.

halfway into cooking, the baby monitor that was in the kitchen starts to make a few noises; aera was due for a change and she was getting fussy upstairs.

“ji?” you call to your boyfriend, who was currently washing the veggies.

“yeah baby? what do you need?”

“could you keep an eye on this in the pan for me? aera needs changing, she's about to start crying.” you stop what you're doing and go to leave when jisung stops you.

“you keep doing this, you're better at cooking that i am and i'll probably end up ruining it, i'll go change her.”

“are you sure?” you ask, eyebrow raised, half expecting him to be grossed out by the prospect of changing a diaper.

“yeah, i'll be okay. plus you've probably done it about a million times today, it's only fair i take this one.” he smiles at you and waltzes out of the kitchen and quickly upstairs to her nursery before you can stop him.

you finish cooking the meat in the pan within seconds of jisung going upstairs, and move over to continue with the veggies, when you hear jisung speaking softly to aera over the baby monitor, and you secretly thank yourself for buying the ones with the screen, so you could see jisung flick on the nightlight and carefully pick up your daughter and take her to the changing table

“it's okay baby, daddy's here, getting you all cleaned up” he whispers to her softly as she wails rom discomfort. he continues to clean her up extremely carefully, buttoning up her pyjamas again and slowly rocking her in his arms. she's still crying, and he decides to speak to her softly again

"it's okay,, shhh, im here. you're okay. everything is okay. you can sleep now bub." you watch as he softly strokes her head like he'd seen you to soothe her cries, pressing soft kisses to the crown of her head and singing a her lullaby quietly. it's not long until you realise he was singing the song he'd written for her, and her cries had almost completely stopped, once again tiny baby gurgles until there was complete silence, and he was placing her back in the crib carefully.

“goodnight little one, i love you so much. mommy and daddy love you so so much. you and mommy mean absolutely everything to me. she's doing so well with you, isn't she just the best?” he whispers softly as he tiptoes back out of the room, flicking the light off as he leaves. your eyes are filled with tears watching the entire scene and he comes back into the kitchen with a smile on his face

“baby? what are you doing? is the food done?” he asks when he sees you wiping your eyes on your sleeve.

“a-almost. sorry i was watching you put aera down. im so proud of you ji, you did so well.” you smile at him and give him a hug as he walks back over to you.

“do you really think so?” you nod, kissing his cheek softly. “thank you my love.”

“of course ji, i told you she loves you. she doesn't go back to sleep for me that fast. you're the best dad to her.” he smiles again and kisses you on the forehead, before pulling away

“let's continue? im starving.” you giggle as you hear his stomach rumble slightly

“hmm i guess so.” you tease, and you both get back to work

once the food was cooked, you eat in the living room while watching some television, before the tiredness from the eventful day washes over the both of you. you take the plates to the kitchen, about to start cleaning them yourself when your boyfriend stops you.

“i'll do it, you go get ready for bed baby.” he ushers you upstairs

“nooo, i don't wanna be alone.” you playfully whine, and you insist on staying in the kitchen with him this time, just enjoying being in his presence. he allows you to stay, and you wrap your arms around his waist as he gets on with it, and you practically fall asleep with your face smooshed against his back.

he lets out a soft chuckle as he untangles himself from you, picking you up softly and taking you upstairs to your bedroom, where he helps you find and get changed into some pyjamas since you were almost completely asleep at this point, the exhaustion had finally caught up to you. once you're both dressed, he takes you to the bathroom and sits you on the toilet seat, passing you your toothbrush as he does your skincare routine on you, which he'd mastered perfectly from watching you do it almost every single day you'd been together, making it a quick routine so you can both sleep faster. he cleans his own teeth quickly, before taking you both back to your bed, where you cuddle up to each other the minute you're both uncle the covers.

“goodnight ji, i love you.” you mumble sleepily, yawning as you speak, your head resting on his chest.

“goodnight baby, i love you too. sleep well.” he gives you a kiss on the forehead, making you hum sleepily, and almost instantly you're asleep.

jisung lies awake for a while, listing out for aera, so that you wouldn't have to get up to sort her out, but once he's certain everything is okay, he comfortably falls asleep too, thinking about what you'd said.

he was aera’s universe, and the two of you were his.

omg hi hello this is my first time publishing anything on tumblr !! i hope you enjoyed reading this - reblogs & feedback would be greatly appreciated <3

#han jisung x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #han jisung #skz fluff #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz han #skz angst #stray kids #stray kids headcanons #stray kids imagines #stray kids au

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duckchu · 8 months

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Hi!

Could you please write for the following for Kayn;

Reader has media studies, and got an internship under Yone's guidance (as much as I love him, strictly platonic😭)

Kayn falls for reader along the way she is there to work with Yone, maybe even gets a little jealous until he gets himself to finally make a move and stop being dramatic about it 💀

Can have tags, im down for anything 👀🗿

Thank you ❤️

Ooooh I love this idea thank youuu

But I've got no idea how media studies work (I have expanded history and English, so pretty different directions sorry) so if I make stupid mistakes lmk so I can correct them

Also Kayn is kinda mean in the beginning but it's Kayn

"Ok no worries it's just an internship with one of the biggest producers you've heard of, no biggie" You thought to yourself as you walked into the studio. Yone, the supervisor of your internship, was already waiting for you. At the beginning, your relationship was very stiff. Neither of you knew how to approach it, since it was the first internship both of you have done. While you liked working under him since you were always given clear instructions and his critique was rooted in wanting to help you better your work and not mean spirited at all. After a week, you both warmed up to eachother, sharing some small talk and finally you met his bandmates. Don't get me wrong, he didn't mean to put off your meeting, but they were all busy with their own schedules while he was mentoring you. But then, one day you walked into the studio and saw the other 5 members of HEARTSTEEL, goofing around. Yone must have noticed how surprised you were, so he introduced you to all the guys. Aphelios only gave you a nod, busy with his own work and Kayn seemed not too pleased at meeting you, but Ezreal, Sett and K'Sante seemed more excited about meeting you. After getting to know most of the guys, you got to work, working on a song for HEARTSTEEL'S new album, which seemed to annoy Kayn

- Are we really letting her produce our songs?-

After that Yone seemed to precisely time your work so you wouldn't be in the studio with Kayn as often as the rest, though it surprisingly seemed to annoy the pink headed menace, who went behind Yone's back in order to find you during your break and talk you up. While being as annoying as he always is. While you entertained him for some time, you quickly got back to work and that was that. Or so you thought. You intrigued him. So he spend his sweet time bugging Yone about you, sometimes even suggesting the older man was in a relationship with you to test how he'll react.

Finally, after a long time, when your internship was coming to an end he decided that he's done feeling jealous of how much time you spent with Yone. Or how many times you went to grab dinner with Ezreal. Even how you and Alune seemed to click instantly when she came to see how the progress on the album was going. When you went to take your break, he grabbed you and pulled you in an old supply closet. From the unamused look on your face he figured there were better ways to do this, but whatever.

- So...Wanna go out? - god, why is he so...himself? But might as well, a little date wouldn't hurt

- Sure. - You couldn't believe you agreed, but what's the worst that could happen?

An annoying boyfriend could happen.

#league of legends #league of legends x reader #lol x reader #lol #heartsteel #heartsteel x reader #heartsteel kayn #kayn x reader #kayn league of legends #shieda kayn #lol kayn #kayn #heartsteel kayn x reader #shieda kayn x reader

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azullumi · 2 years

Note

fatui!scara with a son and his wife? (req)

summary — he had never thought that he would come to that part in his life wherein he has something he wishes to protect more than his heart, more than the ambitions that he hold.

pairing — wanderer or scaramouche/female!reader

tags — fluff, established relationship, domestic life ; headcanons

words — 714

note — hellooooo it seems like my schedule of uploading 1 fic each day is going to be delayed or put on pause for like a few weeks because im in a cultural performance for our school :DD anyways! here, i hope you'll like this anon!

Scaramouche had never thought once in his life that he will be looking forward to something at the end of the day, to have himself giddy and anxious throughout the whole time as he accomplishes his missions or sits behind his desk to do whatever paper he was given. He had never thought that he would come to that part in his life wherein he has something he wishes to protect more than his heart, more than the ambitions that he hold. he had never expected any of your arrival along with a child who has your looks and his personality.

Due to his demanding and busy schedule, usually having to accomplish tasks and missions given to him by the Tsaritsa, you rarely see him come home early and it is only on events that occur once in a blue moon that he will do so. If you ever try to stay up late in order to wait for him, however, he will scold you even if deep down he feels happy. It worries him seeing your tired state, eyes trying to stay open and body threatening to relax to sleep, and it makes him wonder how much you pushed yourself just so you could greet him once he comes home.

Although you frequently sleep with nobody by your side, you wake up with him beside you—either awake and watching you or also still asleep and trying to catch up on the rest that he needs. Occasionally, your son would also join in the bed and would be sleeping in between you two, cuddled and cradled, and when you and Scaramouche are already awake while he’s still unconscious, you’ll stay in bed a little bit longer and talk to each other quietly. It is in those peaceful moments shared in the morning that he forgets all his worries and problems.

He is usually exhausted from his work so he prefers spending time with you sleeping in bed or doing anything together that doesn’t require that much energy. He spends some of his time watching over his son and teaching him about all the things that he has to know, although majority of the time he comes off as intimidating due to his nature and personality—you have to tell him what to do to not scare his own child and to build a proper bond with him because after all, he’s a little bit clumsy and unfamiliar with such relationships and manners.

Even if he’s always away, he tries to always be there especially for his child. He makes an effort through sending letters, buying souvenirs and gifts he got from his trips, spending time with you all as much as possible once he comes home, and many more.

When he’s on his day off or break, he’ll take everyone out to spend time together—mostly in places that don't have that many people as he doesn’t wish for anyone to disturb the only time that he gets to have with his loved ones. Although if you insist and you plead for the three of you to go to a festival or event together, he’ll eventually give in but then of course, he’ll always be on his guard and have people on stand-by on each corner in case something happens. He just can’t afford being too careless.

In order to protect his family, he keeps the fact that he has a family—a wife and a son—as a secret and only close and trusted people know it. After all, he’s a Fatui Harbinger and it’s not uncommon for him to not have enemies so for his beloved ones to be safe, he’ll keep your existences in the dark and have people guarding you at all times when he’s away due to his work.

Oftentimes, he stays up all night while you’re asleep and his child is sleeping beside him and he wonders, thinking and contemplating, if he really deserved to have this kind of happiness after all the misery that he had. You were an escape to his problems, the peace to each of the conflicts that he has, bringing an illusion of serenity to his living of chaos and turmoil and if ever something happens to either of you two, he’ll gladly burn with his hands.

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tinukis · 8 months

Text

i think ppl who arent aroace should stop talking about luffy ships and aroace luffy. ESPECIALLY if theyre very against luffy ships. (like it's fine to hc luffy as aroace and it's fine to not like luffy ships! but holy shit do NOT fill your bs in the ship tags unless you are prepared to be criticized or be sent hate (which is unfortunate bc it just makes us look worse when we're already in the dumps))

anyway fun fact of the day! i held a poll on twt (and i should here too) abt how many ZL shippers are at least on the aroace spec, and it turns out a VAST MAJORITY of us are!

and also if i may add, while it's fine to not like luffy ships bc of Your aroace hc... i find it a little odd that it's always people that arent aroace hating/disliking it. maybe it's bc there are people who know fandom etiquette and not put negativity in ship tags.

(and not to include shipping discourse... while it's not ALL zs shippers... it's somehow always zs shippers. theyre so worried about us 'icky' zl shippers when they go and ship ZS lmao...)

like im sorry but "i am not allowed to openly be your ally today it seems" and then you turn around and?? block aroace people??? that are criticizing you for being wrong??? im sorry but please dont speak for the community and how a HEADCANON is alienating us.

you want to raise awareness and yet you refuse to listen and just whine about hate instead of accepting youre wrong. should you be sent hate? no, of course not! should you listen to the aro ace people that are trying to educate you and NOT block them? YES.

sorry i ended up talking about it anyway. im just gonna trust aro/ace ppl with their luffy hcs/ships atp because... 😭

plus for some reason it's ZL always being targeted. i never see mentions of other luffy's ships, mlm or mlw. it just happens to be ZL every time.

i just think yall hate ZL and that you dont care for aroace rep. just sayin.

#tin talks #sorry i talked about it anyway #im not gonna tag this #whoever sees it sees it #im so tired of allo people trying to speak for us #when a lot of us are shippers...

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maochira · 1 year

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heyheyhey!!!! saw your reqs are open so is it okay to ask for rin, kunigami (heavy on hin, hes been plaging by brain or a while), isagi and nagi with a s/o whos a figure skater??? but not any figure skater, *the* figure skater. like, theyve broken multiple world records, have tons of gold medals and such. they also all know their s/o from childhood yknow, like they were childhood friends and then became high school sweethearts 😭 im sorry if its too much, but this has been rotting on my brain for so long 😭😭😭😭

It's not too much don't worry!! People get so worried about requesting multiple characters all the time but I don't mind!! (most I ever did was uhh 14 characters in one request???)

Requests open! - masterlist

Tags: gn!reader, fluff

Rin has always adored you and your achievements. They always motivated him to try even harder with soccer. Knowing you're one of the best figure skaters motivates him to be the world's best striker even more. He thinks about you every single day while he's in Blue Lock and he misses you so much. Every time you cross his mind, he wonders what you achieve while he's gone. He might be a bit sad over not being there with you to celebrate, but he knows you want him to achieve just as much, so he keeps fighting.

Ever since you were children, Kunigami was amazed by your ice skating skills. He was your first and still is your biggest fan. He was there to watch every medal you won and even came to watch many of your practices. Even when you became more famous, he remained as your biggest fan and it was only a matter of time until you'd fall in love with each other. You always supported him just as much when it came to soccer, so of course, you were incredibly proud when he got invited to Blue Lock and insisted he had to go there. Even though he knew he would miss you a lot, he knew it was an opportunity he shouldn't say no to. Knowing you'll always be there to support him makes him even more confident in becoming the world's best striker.

Isagi didn't expect to catch feelings for you because he only ever thought of you as his best friend since early childhood, but it really shouldn't have been surprised when he started getting butterflies in his stomach every time he saw you. It took him quite a while to confess his feelings because he didn't think you'd feel the same way. But when you won first place in an important competition, Isagi just couldn't hold himself back anymore. He pulled you into a hug like he always does when congratulating you, just this time kissed you as well. At firat, he was very embarrassed about it, but you kissed him back immediately.

Nagi always wondered how you were able to put so much effort into ice skating because it looked so hard. You always offered to teach him and encouraged him to find another hobby besides gaming, but he never bothered to actually do that. You were happy to find out he started playing soccer because of Reo and supported him from the first moment he mentioned it. Nagi always came to watch your performances if he had the chance to, so of course you promised to do the same and came to watch all of his soccer matches. It didn't matter to you that he was only part of a school team, you always knew how much potential is hidden inside of him. The invitation to Blue Lock only proves you right.

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shesmore-shoebill · 4 months

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since you mentioned an angel in neon blue as one of your faves…..your top 5 amangela fics perhaps? some honorary mentions too if there’s too many? 👀

Sorry for the delay on this, life got busy and then more busy instead of less busy and I wanted to give this ask its deserved amount of consideration.

anyway. Five is HARD. I will do my best. Order is not indicative of anything bc I've agonized long enough as it is. I've tagged folks + linked directly to their posts where I could find their associated tumblr post, and links to AO3 where I couldn't.

Also I cheated and made a separate list for NSFW ones. Partly because I know some people don't want to read NSFW. and to cheat a little on the 5 restriction.

As always, RPF with F as in fiction. From what I recall, none of these are attempting to speculate or make any actual statements about real people, they're all just works of fiction I like.

if anyone wants me to remove a link to their fic or a tag for any reason, let me know.

close my eyes (and fantasize) by @baflegacy

listen. I am a fucking sucker for well intentioned and realistic miscommunication that stems from care and then goes wrong. I love a thing where someone cares about someone and thats why they're worried and the worry also means they are a little mad and a little hurt bc fuck, i want to help you, why arent you talking to me about this, did i do something, crossed with the other person doing everything in their power to do the exact thing driving them up the wall, because they genuinely care so much about the other person that its skewing their judgement. People who care and people who fuck up. I'll eat it up every time, and this one is written in a way that feels so real. 👌👌👌👌

the devil is in the details by @skiespeaches

this is a newer fic and its still in progress atm and so theres a chance it gets bumped into NSFW territory 😅 but im really enjoying it!!! The dynamic between Amanda and Angela takes the competitive edge we can see in videos and makes it into something phenomenal. Its got such strong tension and pacing, and its also got. REALLY GOOD COMMUNICATION. People react realistically and have reasonable fears and doubts but everyone also talks about them and trusts each other and its just so satisfying to read as a result. And it STILL does the tension and the 👀👀👀👀👀 so well. Guess its kind of funny to put this and the prior recc right next to each other but I genuinely love both of these. Communication and humans are weird.

not strong enough by @moviemandy

i love a disaster angela fic as much as anyone but because I feel like that trope is established among smosh rpf, I love having that get subverted even more. More Amanda getting comforted!!! yeah!!!!!And the way the dynamic and emotions are written in this one is especially satisfying to me, they all feel very real, and sweet. :') Also, Im always a sucker for the trope where someone tries to deflect from their issues by taking care of someone else and then gets CALLED OUT FOR IT. also, double bonus, this fic can be read completely platonically. :]

a field of yellow flowers by @unknownteapot

gah this one has so many layers and elements to it, its such a damn delight to reread. the bittersweetness of it all really 👌👌👌👌. Grudging respect and admiration in an awful space, magnetism of people who both deeply want to love each other and really don't (but they do). The world feels very realized and that's so important bc the fic clearly sets up the interplay as like. The two of them and also the world they are in as a distinct three players in the story. This fic has so many emotions!!! gut punch of an end! you feel for both of them so deeply by the end.

i've been having revelations by @poppyfamily

slight cheating bc this is courtmangela but it should still count imo!!! It contains another classic trope of people who care about each other deeply and it being percieved by other people before they clock it themselves. Its something I like specifically as a writing trope and only executed in specific ways- caring deeply and being affectionate does not HAVE to mean you want to sleep with or are in love with someone, and IRL assumptions about that can be. Infuriating. But love how this fic does it. :) Also its funny and it feels very genuine and the voices all sound. right. I love fics with lots of cuts where so much is said in tiny details and tiny moments, it makes the world feel very fleshed out. Also, Courtmangela as a band is just a blessed concept.

NSFW fics:

lets make this bed get squeaky by baflegacy

This rewrote my goddamn brain chemistry actually. Like yes, this one is hot, but the parts that really hooked into my brain are not exclusively the spicy bits. Pining RPF Amanda is SO important to my brain, and that dynamic of an Amanda silently losing her mind and Angela also silently losing her mind but slightly more at peace about it, combined with their very genuine friendship keeping things fine and then. and THEN. well.

personal leisure by unknownteapot

hey this fic is hot as hell. Its extremely well written. But also besides the nsfw parts the banter and the sort of instant connection all feel very real and unforced and i love that the end of the fic feels so open ended but also so light and hopeful and sweet. choosing to believe they meet for coffee the next day and it all goes swimmingly.

like she wants to try me on by baflegacy

this fic is about amanda in the submissive and breedable outfit and angela. It accomplishes eveeything you could want from that. Its Very nsfw. its VERY good. Writing smut is difficult on multiple levels- keeping it logistically and emotionally sound while keeping it spicy. It does all three really well. also the aftercare moment is really sweet. :]

bonus: its the subject of this ask so i didnt include it but shout out to an angel in neon blue- the tension is INCREDIBLE and the way the ending recontextualizes everything and leaves you unsure who was really in control the whole time is like. really impressive. The characterization is SO strong and feels so true to the Sarah Christ we know and creates an equally strong Creekside Killer characterization to juxtapose it. 👌

#this post is absolutely outing me as someone who sent amangela anons here on smoshblr huh. 😅 look. i like what i like.#amangela #smosh rpf #smosh fanfic #smosh fic #ask tag #this is def not all the amangela fics i like but ones i felt like i could best articulate my liking for haha.#in gen amangela fic writers are v talented! 👌#i spent maybe too long on this ask but it was fun and now i have a post storing some of my fave fics so thats a plus #hope directly tagging is not a faux pas of some kind 😬 lmk if you want me to untag or unlink #likewise for the one author who isnt on here... ill see if i can let them know maybe #angela giarratana #amanda lehan canto #(largely for my own tagging purposes)

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sugar-omi · 1 year

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omg idk if u do nsfw request but could you like write jealous cove x fem reader nsfw? i think cove isn’t the type to feel possessively jealous but there’s times he can’t let it go but it’s not a like “your mine!!” type possessive more like a “im yours!!” possessive? IDK IF THAT MAKES SENSE SORRY

DW IT MAKES A LOTTA SENSE N I AGREE W EVERYTHING U JUST SAID!! i hope i lived up to your rq 🙏🙏 i enjoyed writing this sm

tags : NSFW, fem reader, jealous cove, service top cove, hand jobs, penetration, between step 3 and 4, you are in college, mention of wanting to marry you

(mentions step 3 "happiness" moment and you getting upset when cove doubted you'd still be together at the end of summer in step 3.

also i'm thinking abt the patreon moment n how cove likes just a hint of pain n runnning w it, i'll never recover from it!)

synopsis : cove is jealous and worried about you finding another man, so you ease his anxiety.

you have always reassured cove that you love him, that he makes you the happiest girl in the world. you promised him that he doesn't have to do anything special to make you happy, that he alone makes you happy.

cove can't help but feel loved every time he thinks about it. and after you got mad at him for doubting the strength of your relationship, brought to tears by the notion, cove promised himself to never make you cry sad or angry tears ever again if he can help it.

but you're standing there, talking with a classmate of from one of your classes and you're laughing and he's looking at you with one too many hearts in his eyes and a darker voice in the smallest crease of cove's mind wonders if you'd like if he looked like that.

hair styled in a way that was casual but handsome, and a ribbed turtle neck under a cream jacket.

cove quickly dismisses that thought, knowing you prefer him in less layers and that you'd never ask him to change his style unless the weather called for more layers must to his chagrin.

unable to take anymore, broken by the guy putting a hand on your shoulder. cove steps out the car, easily taking long strides and he calls out to you.

"y/n!"

you turn around, happy as a peach to see your boyfriend and cove's heart throbs at how easily you forget about the guy in front of you. "are you ready to go eat? its gonna be lunch rush soon..." cove bites h is lips, wondering if thats a good enough excuse to get you out of this guys reach before he puts too many moves on you.

"yeah, just-" you adjust your backpack straps and turn to address your classmate but you step towards cove, taking his hand in yours. "i gotta go, but you should check the online class board, you can download the notes from there! bye!"

cove pulls you away as you barely finish your greetings, opening the car door for you but he slams his own door and winces but pulls out the lot nonetheless, making the drive back to your shared home.

"cove? what's wrong?" you put your hand on his thigh soothingly but cove just jumps at the sudden touch, his head hits the steering wheel, trying to use the break at the stop light to push away his jealousy.

knowing he can't hide from you, cove address you, looking at you with teary puppy eyes, not wanting to upset you but his heart is in turmoil.. "i'm jealous. i know i shouldn't be but- but! that guy was definitely hitting on you and i know you love me but i'm worried you'll leave me for someone better an-" cove whimpers, blinking his eyes as he focuses on the road again and turns onto your street.

"cove... i'm so sorry baby, i- i didn't even notice he was hitting on me. he was just asking about what he missed during class... if it helps, he's only in my elective class! we're not even in the same major so-"

cove cuts you off, quickly and smoothly parking the car in your designated space. "it's not just him. like.. baxter, or derek. i know we haven't heard from baxter in awhile but he was so smooth and flirty and confident. and derek, well derek is nice and reliable and.. i don't know." cove leans over the console.

"i don't want you to leave me for someone better, i know you said you won't but. i love you so much. i wanna be your's forever, i wanna marry you one day! i love being your boyfriend so much, y/n.." cove frets, pushing his head into your hand when you cup his cheek, fighting tears and failing.

"cove. i love you. you'll always be mine." you kiss his face, hovering over his lips, "you'll always be my special lover boy."

cove purrs, melting into your kiss. when you pull away, cove looks at you with hooded lids, "l-lets go inside..."

you barely make it through the door, your hands running under cove's shirt and he trembles trying to put the key in the door, steadying when you wrap your hand around his and guide him.

when the door unlocks, you pull cove in, kissing his neck as you reach behind him to flip the lock and slip the chain through the track. "y-y/n, ahh.." cove mutters breathlessly, some other words escaping his mouth in a jumbled mess but you hear a stuttered "feels good" and you keep going, pulling him through the house to your bedroom.

on the way, your shoes are left haphazardly in front of the door and a trail of clothes breadcrumb the hallway.

you push cove onto the bed, stepping out of your bottoms and left in just your underwear, you help cove unbutton his shorts, pushing away shaky hands.

you slip off his boxers, deciding to take care of cove while he's still pliable. "shh baby, let me take care of you.." you settle in his lap and cove throws his head back in a shaky moan when your hand wraps around his sensitive cock, stroking him slowly and swiping your skilled hands over his weeping slit, knowing how to work your boyfriend's body in the best ways.

"y/n..." cove whines, bucking his hips into your hand as you grope him through his boxers.

"t-tighter, please.. ah!" cove groans when your hand tightens around his cock the way he likes, feeling a knot build in his abdomen at your increasingly faster strokes. "i'm, i'm close.. mh-" cove gasps, finger tips digging into your hips.

in his lusty haze, cove looks at your bra and works the front clasp the way you showed him. you grin knowingly, enjoying cove's blush as his eyes train on how your breast bounce when the clasp comes undone.

you arch your back, encouraging cove to play with your chest. his lips clasp on your collar bone, nibbling and sucking lightly so as to not leave marks but when you flex your hand around his cock cove bites particularly hard, sure enough to leave a bruise.

something primal inside of him feels pleased at that.

cove shudders, looking up from your chest to meet your eyes. "w-why did you stop?.."

you smile, kissing your lovely boy on the cheek. "don't want you to finish yet." you reach for a condom, urging cove to lean against the pillows.

you're not too worried about stretching yourself as you'd had sex the night before and only applying ample lube for what will definitely be a bit of a long night, thankful your classes are over for the day.

cove takes his place, shaking when you roll the condom over his sensitive cock. you straddle his lap, hands gripping his shoulders as you line him up with your cunt.

you sink onto his cock, moaning sharply when his tip hits your bladder from inside, your cunt sensitive and nearly dripping with your slick.

when you finally take him to the hilt, his cock rubbing all the sensitive spots inside you and reaching deeper than you could ever reach on your own.

cove gasps and holds you tighter when your cunt trembles around him, kissing you as you gently bounce on his lap. "cove, cove..." you mutter, breathless and your eyes water at the sensation of his cock dragging against your gummy walls.

cove grips your hips, grinding your hips together making you moan loudly. "can i.. *swallows* can i move too?"

you nod, whining when cove instantly bucks his hips into yours, taking the lead at your instruction.

you pull cove into a kiss, your tongues dancing together before the kiss turns gentle and loving. breaking away for air, cove trails kisses down your neck as you gasp and moan, his cock hitting your walls in a way that makes you leak with more slick and clench tightly around him.

"i'm gonna cum, fuck please cove! more!"

cove reaches for your clit, his thumb circling your sensitive clit as he brings you over the edge. "i love you y/n, so happy to be yours.. please cum, wanna feel you cum around me." cove whispers sweet and dirty words in your ear, "you feel so good.. ahh fuck, thats it.. agh fuck!"

cove trembles, cumming into the condom as your pussy tightens and your thighs shake on either side of him.

cove collapses into your shoulder, wrapping his arms around you and you both shake in each others embrace.

"i love you." you kiss cove's head, coming down from your orgasm.

cove kisses your neck back, his lips tickle against your sweaty skin as he speaks, "i love you too.."

"cove? what're you-"

you pull yourself off his lap, cove throwing the tied off condom in the trash and before you can get up he pulls you back into his lap.

cove's brilliant blue eyes drill into you, sparking the flames of your heart and your cunt throbs with need. "i still want you.."

you laugh, happily sinking into the bed with cove on top of you.

cove grabs a condom from the open drawer and rolls it over his sensitive but still hard cock, quickly sinking into your warmth.

he moans shakily, drawing his hips back and slamming back into you, your legs wrapped loosely around his waist so he can fuck you and still steal a kiss from you.

cove leans into your neck, his body supported by his forearms but he still looms over you. "i love you.. so happy to be your boyfriend, ngh-.. i-i love belonging to you."

you scratch down cove's back. "you're mine.. ah!" cove picks up the pace, ignited by you agreeing that he's yours.

cove mumbles happily into your neck, most of his chant muffled by his face buried in your neck; sucking marks and hiding at the same time. most of it is moans, but you hear a few "yours.. yours..." among his moans.

cove grunts at the use of the nickname, buoyed to go further and he reaches between your bodies to rub your clit.

feeling that knot in your stomach, you tell cove you're coming. "c-c'mon cove! make me cum, want my sunshine to make me cum!"

you reach orgasm together for the second time, cove dripping sweat onto you.

you both pant, the temperature making you squirm.

cove speaks first, "..i love you, love you so much. i'm sorry i got jealous.."

"its okay cove, if this is how its gonna be you get jealous more often!"

cove groans, embarrassed by your teasing. "carry me to the shower?"

cove pops up, bright like an obedient puppy. "yes!"

#our life: beginnings & always #cove holden smut #cove holden x reader #cove x mc #cove holden #cove x reader #smut #cove holden x reader smut #cove holden x mc smut

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