#pretty sure I named her Arasha | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sage-lights · 27 days ago

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this love’s possessing me

word count: 2085 Amanda unknowingly starts to tiptoe the line and now Angela wants all in. (as always, a huge thank you to @babychosen for being my sounding board and helping me workshop different ideas!)

Normally, Angela isn’t one to spend her Friday nights at a kitschy beach bar. It feels horribly cliche living in Los Angeles. But when Erin came barrelling into the office Monday morning raving about a small bar she found with Vida that past weekend, it undoubtedly piqued Angela’s interest. She’s gone out on the weekends with Erin enough times to know that her friends are particular about what she deems a place worth recommending to others.

Later that week, during their lunch break, the topic comes up again. Angela is sitting with Arasha, chatting idly about random topics when Arasha starts talking about how she went out a while ago with Fabian and Rowan.

“Are you talking about that tiny place in Venice?” Angela asks, holding a fork-full of food mid-air.

Arasha lights up, “Yeah, have you been?”

“No, but I think Erin’s been talking about the same place earlier this week.”

As if the sound of her name summoned her, Erin plops down at their table, “What about me?”

“Remember that beach bar you were telling us about? ‘Rash’s been too,” says Angela.

“Oh my god, no way!” Erin turns to Arasha, “What are you doing Friday night? You’ve gotta help me convince them to come.”

Arasha laughs, “Don’t worry, Tommy’s already in. He said, and I quote, ‘There’s no way that place is actually good, I’ve gotta go!’ And I’m pretty sure Court and Shayne will be down to come too!”

They look at Angela expectantly.

“Oh, um, I don’t know guys…”

“Come on! You’ve been so busy it’s been a while since you’ve had a night out with us,” pleads Erin.

Arasha nods, “It’ll be fun, I promise. The cocktails are cheap and not shitty. And I’m sure I can get Chanse to come with as well.”

“And it’s got karaoke,” Erin cheekily adds, her voice laced with a sing-songy quality.

In the same way Erin gets summoned by someone saying her name, Amanda is bound to appear the moment someone mentions karaoke.

“Karaoke where?” Doesn’t matter, I’m already in,” Amanda takes a seat right next to Angela. Almost like it’s on instinct, Amanda leans back and drapes her arm around Angela’s shoulders. “You’re coming too, right Ang?”

She groans, “Ugh, fine. Count me in.”

Which is how Angela found herself drinking sugary cocktails garnished with brightly colored paper umbrellas and a variety of tropical fruit slices. The bar was decked out in fairy lights and tiki decor.

Her friends were all scattered about the crowded space—Tommy and Chanse were chatting (more like flirting, if she was being honest) with the bartenders, Courtney and Arasha were waiting eagerly near the karaoke stage for their turn to sing a duet, and the rest of the group were talking and laughing loudly at a couple tables near the back.

Angela raises her glass to her lips and is disappointed to find she’s already finished her drink. There’s a pleasant buzz that courses through her, but it’s not prominent enough for her liking. If she’s going to let loose tonight, then she’s going to let loose.

Wandering over to the counter, she sidles up next to Tommy and Chanse, props her elbow to lean against the counter, and sets down her empty glass.

“Do you guys do a dirty martini here?” she asks.

Chanse rolls his eyes, “Of course they do, Ang. This is a bar.”

“I don’t know! What if they only do, like, tropical themed drinks here?”

Tommy snickers, “You’d think she snuck in here or something. It’s like she’s never been to a bar before.”

“Get off my back!” Angela faces the amused bartender, deciding to make him an ally if her friends are going to turn on her. “I’d like to personally apologize for any bullshit you’ve had to endure talking to my two idiot friends. They’re the absolute worst.”

“Hey!” Chanse yells indignantly.

The bartender chuckled, wiping condensation from his hands before reaching for her empty glass, “I’ll get you that dirty martini.”

“Thank you! Hey, do you want to be my new best friend? I’m currently taking applications to replace these two!” shouts Angela, to which Chanse slaps her arm, a little harder than he intended. He winces.

She pouts, “Ow, what the fuck?”

“Jesus Christ,” Tommy shakes his head lovingly, “you two are ridiculous.”

Angela opens her mouth, about to retort when she’s cut off by Amanda magically appearing to her right side.

“What are you guys going tucked away over here?”

“There was a really cute bartender that Angela just scared away,” Chanse tries to point subtly at the man now on the far side pouring the martini from a silver shaker.

Amanda sneaks a glance over Tommy’s shoulder, “Oh, he is cute!”

“Shhh! You’re being too obvious, Amanda!” scolds Chanse.

She ignores him, laughing. “So, who’s going home with his number?”

“Oh no, I’m too busy to date right now. Plus, he’s so not my type,” clarifies Tommy, “I’m just trying to wingman for Chanse tonight.”

“How’s it going? Have you guys gotten anywhere?” Amanda prods.

The boys launch straight into recounting every single second of their conversation with the bartender from the moment they said hello. Angela smiles and nods along, occasionally lobbing insults (that lacked any real fire behind them) at Chanse.

At some point during the conversion—Angela’s not entirely sure when it happened—Amanda snakes her hand around Angela’s waist and shifts her weight onto one leg, leaning further into Angela’s personal space. She’s close enough that Angela could feel the warmth radiating from her skin and the faint brush of Amanda’s breath against her neck.

It’s been happening more often recently. An arm slung around Angela’s shoulders, a hand on her waist, a caressing thumb over her knuckles. All these little touches that make Angela’s heart skip. Amanda has never been one to shy away from physical touch and the touches are innocent enough to be friendly, but they linger just long enough to make her hope for something more.

Not that Angela’s complaining. It’s just…interesting. In the dimly lit room and with her cheeks already flushed a little rosy from the alcohol, she’s just hoping no one will clock the way her body heats up more as Amanda slowly runs her fingers up and down her side.

This happened to be one of the rare nights Angela wore a crop top, giving Amanda’s hand direct contact with her skin. The touch of her fingers on Angela’s bare skin sent a jolt through her, like a live wire sparking with each stroke leaving her a little more breathless.

Angela swears there was something about the way Amanda is stroking her that made her feel even drunker.

“Hello? Earth to Angela!”

She blinks, registering Chanse’s waving hand in front of her face.

“Sorry, I must’ve zoned out for a second. What were you saying?”

“We’ve got to cut her off after this drink,” jokes Tommy, attempting to reach over and gingerly take Angela’s martini glass from her hand. She snatches her hand back.

“Guy, I’m fine. I swear. I’ve barely had anything to drink.”

“We’ll, as a first time drinker, you’ve got to take it slow,” Chanse mocks.

“Shut up!” Angela returns his earlier favor, and wacks his arm back.

“Okay, that actually hurt, bitch.”

“Your bitch count is at four today, bitch!”

“Whatever,” tsks Chanse before redirecting his attention back to the conversation they were previously having, leaving Angela glad that they didn’t keep questioning her about what she was thinking about.

Angela’s mind drifts again, her attention slowly returning when she feels something tickling her side. At first, she thought it was the tag of her shirt, so she wiggles around trying to slightly jostle it into a new position. But the prickling sensation travels lower and lower, and oh.

Amanda’s hand has made its way into the back pocket of her jeans. Amanda’s hand is in her pocket.

It’s not like Amanda is acting inappropriately (if anything about this situation can even be considered “appropriate”); she’s not squeezing Angela’s ass or anything. Her hand is just there. Firm, but not moving. Warm, undoubtedly noticeable, and, as much as Angela doesn’t want to admit it, comforting.

She looks up wide eyed, searching for some kind of acknowledgement in Amanda’s eyes. Luckily, Amanda catches Angela staring at her and it’s like this bubble that they’re in has burst because she suddenly realized exactly where her hand has wandered.

The moment that Angela feels Amanda try to pull away, she reaches behind her and holds Amanda’s hand there.

“Ang—,” Amanda begins.

Angela leans in slightly, her voice barely above a whisper, “I like it when you touch me like that.” The words come out before she can stop herself, a quiet confession buried under the noise of the bar.

Amanda stares, dazed. And blinks. Oh, she’s actually serious about this. Carefully, she slips her hand fully back into Angela’s pocket. Only then does Angela loosen her vice grip on her wrist.

Chanse is thankfully none the wiser, still babbling on about the bartender. Tommy, on the other hand, notices how stiff Amanda now seems. They lock eyes and he slowly lowers his gaze to where Amanda’s hand is buried.

He raises an eyebrow and mouths, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” she replies silently, though she can tell that Tommy isn’t even a little bit convinced. He’s about to ask again, but Amanda shakes her head, telling him to drop it.

But, he doesn’t.

“I’ve been standing way too long. We should join everyone because I need to take a seat,” announces Tommy.

Chanse shrugs and follows, leaving Angela and Amanda alone in silence. They don’t say anything as Amanda removes her hand, and this time, Angela doesn’t stop her.

“Well, I should probably get going,” she mutters, rubbing the back of her neck, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of Amanda’s touch.

“Come say ‘bye’ to everyone at least?” Amanda asks, voice gentle, her eyes searching Angela’s face.

“Say ‘bye’ for me,” Angela pulls out her phone and taps the screen, “My UberEats is about to get to my house anyways.”

“Of course it is. I’ll walk you out.”

They stop by the curb, standing in the soft glow of a streetlamp, and Angela sighs. Outside, the night air hits Angela like a wave, cool and refreshing compared to the stuffy warmth inside.

It’s sobering, but not enough to dim the electric current between them. Her pulse quickens, heat blooming in her chest as she thinks about Amanda’s touch, her warmth, and before she can stop herself, the words spill out.

“You should come home with me,” her words slurred but sincere. It’s vulnerable, though there’s an obvious desire that burns in her eyes as well.

Amanda’s lips part as if she’s going to say yes, but she hesitates and sighs, “Angela…I want to. Trust me, I do. But…”

Angela frowns, confused, her heart sinking at the rejection. “But?”

Amanda strokes Angela’s cheek gently, her thumb brushing away a stray strand of hair. “You’ve been drinking, and I…I’m not sure what this all means yet.”

The words land heavily between them, leaving Angela speechless. Behind her, she hears a car pull up and hears the driver call her name.

Amanda presses a soft kiss to Angela’s forehead, her lips lingering just a moment longer than they should. The tenderness in the kiss tells Angela everything—there’s something there, but Amanda’s not ready to face it. The warmth of it lingers, though it only deepens the ache in Angela’s chest, the unanswered question of where they stand hanging heavy between them.

“Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe, okay?” she opens the door for Angela to climb in.

“Good night, ‘Manda.”

“Good night, honey.”

Through the window, Angela watches as Amanda grows smaller in the distance until it’s just a tiny shadow that walks back into the bar alone.

She turns to look out the window, catching one last glimpse of Amanda, her figure bathed in a soft glow. There’s something painfully beautiful about the sight, but it only makes Angela’s chest tighten.

As the car pulls away, Amanda grows smaller and smaller until she’s just a tiny shadow that walks back into the bar alone.

(About an hour later, Amanda checks her phone and sees a selfie of Angela and Spork sitting on her bed with a bowl of pasta in her lap. She smiles and double taps the image.)

#amanda lehan canto #angela giarratana #amangela #smosh #smosh rpf #smosh fanfiction #erin dougal #arasha lalani #tommy bowe #chanse mccrary

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magnifythesun · 6 months ago

Note

ianthony prompt: Anthony competing for attention for an oblivious Ian vs a protective cast over their papa ian hehe

heehee this one is cute, thanks for the prompt!!

(post writing note: trying to tread these character dynamics yet keep it feeling realistic is such a fun challenge! I hope I succeeded! this ended up being way more about the aftermath of a situation like this than examples of it happening lol but i hope you enjoy anyway)

When Anthony returned to Smosh, his first goal was to speedrun as many types of new videos on Smosh Pit and Games as possible. Try Not to Laugh, 2 Truths 1 Lie, Reading Reddit Stories, on and on the list went. His schedule was packed. Yet even during the chaos, Anthony started to notice a pattern.

When it was just him and the cast without Ian during a shoot, everything felt surprisingly comfortable. The big ensemble cast ones too, like the slapping video, great vibes all around (bit of a painful cheek though). They were all meshing so well, so quickly, and Anthony was eternally grateful that they were welcoming him with open arms. There was just one thing.

When a video was just him, Ian, and a couple other cast members, he was getting the strangest feeling. Not that they didn't want him there, he was pretty sure. That was the feeling he'd been afraid he'd get when he first came back. Rather, he got the feeling that they were constantly trying to pull attention away from him. Well, not the attention of the viewers. Just Ian's attention.

Anthony knew that he and Ian could get a little wrapped up in themselves sometimes. He couldn't really help it; with their long history together, they had a lot of inside jokes and an acute sense of what joke would break the other immediately. So they would share a glance and suddenly be laughing, giggling over some stupid joke like a couple of teenagers again, and it would be as if there were no other people in the room.

And each time, promptly, one of the other people there would interrupt, saying Ian's name, asking him a sudden question or pointing out something else so that Ian would look over there. Sometimes they'd even physically move Ian away, subtly of course. At first Anthony hardly noticed, but then it kept happening. And then he realized that often, it was accompanied by an almost pointed look at him by whoever was doing it.

Sometimes, they would get tag-teamed. For example, during a video of a light-hearted Mario Party competition, he and Ian were starting to 'yes, and' each other into oblivion, grinning and carrying on over some joke from a ten-year-old video, when suddenly Angela was pulling Ian's arm and getting him to react to something on the screen while Chanse tapped on Anthony's shoulder to show him a trick on the controller. Before Anthony knew it, somehow Angela had swapped spots with Ian on the couch. A little off-kilter, Anthony just bantered with Chanse for the rest of the video instead. To be fair, Chanse had a very similar sense of humor to Ian, so it actually went very well. Still, Anthony just couldn't tell why stuff like this kept happening.

He felt a little confused, and from that was a vague sense of hurt. Had he done something wrong? Ian never seemed to notice, so Anthony tried to push the whole thing to the back of his mind. Surely he was just reading too much into it.

On another video, Anthony, Ian, Arasha, and Courtney were facing off in Everybody 1, 2, Switch. When they went to pick teams, Anthony reached out a hand, ready to pull Ian to his side of the room, when Courtney suddenly popped up beside him, snagging his arm and raising it to the sky in victory.

"Anthony's my partner," They said gleefully, shooting a glance at Arasha, who was herding Ian to her side of the room.

"Heck yeah, dad and son team," Ian said, a little grin on his face as they high-fived. He shot a playful glare at Courtney and Anthony. "You're going down!"

"Dickbiscuit!" Arasha chimed in, looking like the cat who ate the canary.

"Gotta give them their father-son time, Anthony!" Courtney said, rather pointedly, and Anthony got that feeling again. Like there was a plot against him, but he wasn't sure why. It left a sour feeling in his stomach, and he felt bad about it. Anthony definitely didn't mind being on a team with Courtney instead of Ian, but why did it feel like she and Arasha didn't want him to be on a team with Ian?

It was time. He was at a point in his life where he'd rather just talk about something instead of letting the poisonous thoughts rot inside him. Right after they wrapped the video, he walked over to Courtney.

"Hey, could I talk to you over there?" Anthony asked quietly, trying to make sure Ian couldn't hear.

Courtney gave him an inquisitive look. "Yeah sure!" They headed to the little hallway behind the set walls. "What's up?"

Anthony shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. "Well, uh. Well, first of all, I may be totally misreading this."

Even as he spoke, he could tell he probably wasn't. Courtney's eyes had sharpened with understanding, and a slightly guilty yet defiant look was coming over her face.

"I've just been noticing—" He paused, thinking how best to say it. "Well, nothing specific, I don't think, but I can't help but feel like..." He took a quick breath and just got it over with. "Sometimes in these smaller videos with Ian, it feels like you guys don't really want Ian to talk to me?" He glanced at Courtney, stomach sinking as he continued, the worst fear coming to his tongue. "Or maybe you guys don't want me there?"

Courtney didn't look defiant at all anymore, now more gut-punched in a way that made Anthony feel terrible. Could he really have been misreading it all so badly?

"Or, maybe not!" He put his hands out placatingly. "I'm so sorry, I think I was maybe reading too much into things?"

"Oh god, well, no, um," Courtney stammered. "Look, I'm sorry too. You haven't been misreading."

Anthony's stomach dropped. They didn't want him here?

Courtney must have seen his expression and she reached out to grab his arm reassuringly. "Oh my god, not about not wanting you here. We're all really happy you're back, Anthony. This has been amazing."

The emotional whiplash was really starting to get to him. "Oh. Well, that's good!" He smiled weakly.

"We've just been," She paused thoughtfully, "A little protective over Ian, I think. There's an element of, you know, what if you decide this isn't for you after all, and leave again." She looked down, and continued quietly. "I think it'd wreck him, honestly."

Anthony's heart seized and he took in a shaky breath. "I can promise you," He said firmly. "That won't happen. He put a hand on their arm too, squeezing lightly to try and emphasize how serious he was. "This is what I want to be doing, full-stop. And running this whole thing with Ian means more to me than, than anything in the world."

Courtney smiled at him, a shaky, slightly teary thing. "I think, deep-down, despite our fears, we could see that. It's obvious every time you look at him."

Anthony dropped his arm and dipped his head, a little embarrassed. "Well, I can't help but be excited about it, you know?"

Courtney laughed, "I'm sure. There is one other aspect to the whole thing you've been sensing though."

Anthony looked back up apprehensively.

"With you around, he doesn't do the bits he's built up with everyone else as much!" She laughed again, clearly more at herself this time. "It's silly, but we're all a bit jealous!"

"Oh. Oh!" Anthony didn't really know what to say. He raised his hands up guiltily and said, "Whoops."

Courtney covered her mouth to try to laugh more quietly. They were still only separated by the wall of the set from the crew, and presumably, Ian.

Anthony started laughing too, rather relieved about the whole thing. He'd been so worried that there was some really big grievance the whole cast been hiding, an anvil dangling, ready to drop on his head. "It's just like you said, right?" Anthony said as he caught his breath. "Gotta give them their father-son time!"

"Exactly!" Courtney beamed at him.

Anthony smiled, but he felt compelled to continue. "Look, I just want to reiterate. About the leaving thing."

"Yeah?" Courtney said.

"I just," There was a dragging pain in his chest like the words were being pulled out of him. "I love him, you know?"

He'd said it before to Ian, that he loved him, best friend to best friend. But there was something about saying it now, to Courtney, secretly behind this set wall like this. It was haunting almost, like a specter sneaking up behind him to tilt his world permanently on its axis. He wasn't unfamiliar with the feeling. It was often associated with something he needed to work out in therapy.

He shook it off, took a breath. "I never want to hurt him like that again. He means so much to me. I won't let us fall apart like that again."

Courtney tilted her head slightly, narrowed eyes studying his. His breath felt caught in his chest. A moment, then, "Woah." Her expression brightened, suddenly mischievous.

Anthony blinked at her. "What?"

They grinned, "No, no, nothing, haha!" They had that funny wild look in their eyes that usually only came out for the cameras.

"What?" Anthony asked again, a slightly unnerved smile taking over his face.

Courtney shook her head. "No, um, you know? I think this changes things! Sorry about everyone, haha, we're just— well, you know, he's our guy, our 'Smosh single dad,' 'the dad who stepped up,' our 'single working mother,' whatever! We were all just a bit protective of him, but hey look!" She threw her hands out like she was pitching a deal. "I'll pass the message along, that you're, well, uh. That you, um. That there's nothing to worry about here! Just leave some Ian for the rest of us, yeah?"

Courtney started to back away, looking like they were going to bolt and Anthony was so confused. "Sorry about that by the way? I didn't realize I was stealing him," Anthony said.

"No you, well—" Courtney stopped. "Anthony, you do know that whenever you're there, Ian's like, fixated on you, yeah?"

Anthony had not realized that and he was not quite sure why his chest felt all at once like he had just performed a long, far too strenuous yoga session. He kept looking at her as if an explanation would be forthcoming, but Courtney was just looking back at him with wide eyes.

In this moment that felt like it resided somewhere on the spectrum of Wild West duels, Ian came around the corner.

"Oh hey," He said, and then frowned at them when they both jumped. "What are you two doing behind the set?"

"Hey Ian!" Courtney said brightly, and Anthony could hear that hidden relief underneath. "Great to talk with you, Anthony! See you later!"

Ian watched them leave and then turned back to him, suspiciously.

"Are you two plotting some kind of video?" Ian raised his hand to his chin, thinking. "Like, a prank video on me I'm not supposed to know about or something?"

That would be a great idea, Anthony thought a little deliriously. "I don't know, Ian, I guess you'll have to find out."

Ian narrowed his eyes. "I'll have you know I'm great at getting revenge."

"Oh, should I beware?" Anthony teased, the tight feeling in his chest easing up.

Ian scoffed. "Beware all right. I'll get Arasha on my side and then it'll be all over for you and Courtney."

Anthony grinned and walked over to him, slinging an arm over Ian's shoulders to guide them both out from behind the set. "You know, I keep hearing about Arasha's scheme prowess. Wanna show me whatever video that comes from?"

"Oh god, it's a whole series of videos," Ian said, already pulling out his phone. "Brace yourself, it's a wild ride."

#ianthony #asks #my fanfic #aaaa i really like how this one turned out!! i hope y'all like it too!#thank you for the ask!!#i have a grand total of five more in the backlog right now #thank you all so much for sending them! <3

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