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makethatelevenrings · 2 days

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Torture and Trust // S. Riley x f!reader

warnings: waterboarding, reader is physically hit and tortured, reader is threatened with sexual assault in one (1) line, canon-typical violence, swearing

A part two to this but also doesn't need to be read before this. I'm kind of making a little universe in my head but idk. We vibin'.

It was the shock of cold water smashing against your face that woke you up. To be honest, you weren’t really asleep. You had been drifting between the space between consciousness and sleep, lured there from a few nasty hits to the head and exhaustion.

It was supposed to be a simple recon mission before the rest of the team came in to aid the retrieval of an asset. It was a warehouse tucked away in the streets of Tokyo that was apparently the hub of a human trafficking ring. MI5 had tasked the military to dispatch a SpecOps team since British citizens were targeted, something that had you grumbling under your breath because it shouldn’t take someone’s fucking citizenship to determine if they needed help. Explosives would be a bad idea considering how metropolitan the area was, even if it wasn’t very busy in this area. So you and Lieutenant Riley were tasked with figuring out a solid entry point and a tally of guards.

Simon had agreed to split up so he could canvass the west side of the building and see how many guards were stationed while you took the east side. It just so happened that the second-in-command to shithead in charge himself spotted the flash of your rifle scope and the next thing you know, you were strapped to a chair in the middle of the warehouse.

Your chest heaved as you caught your breath and you let out a small laugh as you regarded the two men in front of you. Being in the SAS, you were no secret to torture. Everyone knew that one step of the training was to go through seventy-two hours of pure hell and sleep deprivation to see who broke and who didn’t. This was child’s play compared to that.

“Your swing is getting better,” you said through bloodied teeth. “But that follow through is what we need to work on.”

A hand fisted in the back of your head and shoved your forward, directly into the trough of water they had placed in front of you. Waterboarding was always an interesting exercise. You knew it was coming and had inhaled sharply, focusing your attention on anything but the air slowly leaking from your lungs as he held you in there for maybe a minute. Your thoughts drifted to other things, like the ramen you and Simon split in the safehouse the night before. It had been a few months since he grew comfortable enough with taking the mask off in front of you so now you savored the few moments you saw of his face. He seemed almost tentative without his mask, as though he was aware of how beastly his scars made him look.

You pondered over if he knew just how beautiful he was.

They yanked you back out of the water and you didn’t know what time it was. It was certainly darker than it had been when you were first nabbed from your lookout point. Certainly long enough that Simon was aware of your predicament. So that meant you were running out of time. Two in front of you, three guards behind. Your hands strained against the rope and duct tape mixture that bound your wrists and ankles to the sides of the chairs.

“Who do you work for?” the boss hissed. You blinked up at him innocently through the water that clung to your lashes and shrugged.

“Can’t a girl just chill around here? God forbid women do anything.” You braced yourself for a hit that never came. Instead, he grabbed your jaw and squeezed, forcing your teeth to clack together with a sharp jolt and a bite to your tongue, adding more blood to mix with the cuts already present from the lackluster punches delivered earlier.

“Not with that level of weaponry. Try again.”

“You got me. I’m one of Santa’s elves and he wanted to make sure you were being a good boy this year. I’d hate to let him know that-” Your words were cut off as you were shoved back into the water. Ramen. How many meals had you two shared at this point? He had even started bringing you dinner to your office since he could take his mask off there rather than in the chow hall. You wouldn’t lie, you were starting to get tired. Your lungs burned from the fight to breathe and inhale the water, but you tried to shut off the small part of your brain that sent up signals of panic.

You didn’t need to worry, you reminded yourself. Just hold on a little longer.

“If you don’t start giving me real answers, maybe I’ll let some of our clients get it out of you. They’d love that,” the boss snarled when you were let up for air. Your gut tugged uncomfortably at the implication. It was always something that you had to keep in the back of your mind. Being a woman, military or not, always meant that it was a threat held over your head, simply for existing. It was why you were so eager to destroy their whole operation.

“How about you go fuck yourself?” Gathering up the blood and spit in your mouth, you forced your tongue back and then spat the putrid mix all over his face and the pristine white collar of his shirt. Rage flickered across his face and he stood up straight.

“Get me the pliers. If she won’t talk, we’ll make sure she screams.”

Well, you mused, what was a few less nails and teeth except less maintenance?

As his little goon walked off to whatever evil lair table of doom they had set up, your ears tuned into the silence around you. The typical sounds of the city met your ears, along with…there.

“I’m afraid, boys, that you’re out of time,” you said softly. A smile tugged painfully at your swollen and cut lips but you pushed past the pain. “This has been fun, truly, but I can’t lie and say I’ll miss you.”

The boss’ hand was heavy on the back of your neck as he held you down into the water. Even through the distorted splashes and fuzziness in your mind, you could hear five audible pops. You knew what they saw in their last moments. You knew that the Ghost emerged from the shadows, steps silent despite the fact that he was more muscle than man, and you knew that these men felt fear seconds before a bullet silenced their cruel minds.

He tugged you up out of the water and you inhaled deeply, the sound harsh and grating on your sensitive ears. Blinking the water out of your eyes, you came face to face with a mask that most said elicited a bone deep terror in them.

But not you.

“Right on time,” you panted. He said nothing as he cut the bindings holding you down and inspected the way that they had rubbed some of your skin away, leaving it tender and bleeding. Simon turned to look at the leader of all of this and you realized that he didn’t kill him. The man was dragging himself towards his discarded gun on the ground, blood oozing from his ruined kneecap. Ghost stalked towards him and lifted him up and away from his weapon. He regarded the little weasel coolly and then glanced back at you. You tried to push yourself up and out of the chair but your legs shook under you and instead, you collapsed back against the metal.

“Warehouse is clear,” Soap announced as he, Gaz, and Price entered. “Christ, bonnie, you look like shite.”

“You charmer,” you muttered. Gaz rushed to your side to help you up and you were grateful for your team. Your friends.

“This him?” Price asked as he joined Simon.

“Yeah.” It was the first time he’d spoken since he entered the building. “Keep him alive. I want to be the one to interrogate him.”

If it were anyone else, Price would agree. But seeing the slight tremor in Simon’s hands where he gripped the man’s suit jacket and then looking over to where Gaz was supporting your half-conscious form, he knew that putting Simon alone in a room with the man would result in a very messy clean up.

“We’ll worry about that when we get them back to base,” Price said. “We need to get her to medical.”

Four days into your medical leave and you were growing antsy. Soap and Gaz tried to keep you entertained and Price offered you an opportunity to yell at some cadets, but you were bored. You missed moving your body more than just the walk from your room to your office to the chow hall and back. But the doctor had threatened to strap you to a bed for a week while you let your body get back to normal after, and her words were, “you got your shit rocked. I know you SpecOps bastards think you’re invincible but anyone would need to take a fucking break after being tortured.” So, here you were, sitting in your office and writing up a mission plan for another team because Price knew you were getting twitchy without anything to do.

Two knocks, sharp and perfunctory, caught your attention. You called for whoever it was to enter, but you already knew who it would be. How many times had he laid that same knock upon your door? You once said that he might as well move into your office and he had regarded it for a moment thoughtfully, as if he was genuinely considering it.

“Four days of silence from you. Thought I did something wrong,” you commented lightly as Ghost entered and shut the door behind him. He didn’t take his usual seat, the plush wheelie chair you invested in when you joined the team and realized that he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Simon dropped a tray onto your desk and then stalked away, his shoulders tense and bristling like a scared cat.

A quick glance at the time confirmed that your trap had worked. He always noticed if you missed a meal, usually because you were invested in something you were working on. Everyone had their own quirk or vice and that was yours.

He brought you beef stew over rice, a quintessential British meal that was surprisingly appetizing despite the cook’s minimal care. A shiny red apple sat beside it and, as if he read your thoughts, Simon whirled around and yanked it off of the tray. He extracted a knife from his pocket and started to carve the apple into slices that he dropped onto the tray and then turned around and began to stare at the wall once more. You simply grabbed one of the slices and chewed on it while waiting for him to speak.

“That was stupid,” his rough voice broke the silence. You scoffed and stopped chewing.

“What, getting captured? I didn’t fucking plan on it.”

“No. For not trying to escape.”

A dry, startled laugh escaped you and you scrubbed the heel of your hand over your forehead. “Five men with guns and me with nothing, tied to a chair. Yeah, fair chance of running without a bullet in the back.”

“You didn’t even try.”

“I didn’t have to. I knew you were coming.”

He turned to glare at you from behind that infamous mask and you cocked your head to the side. “That doesn’t scare me, Simon, and you know it. Take the mask off.”

He hesitated and then reached up and yanked it off, revealing the sharp line of his jaw, the scars around his mouth, and those freckles that speckled across his nose and cheeks. You could see him better and, therefore, read him better. His eyes told you he was angry. His tight jaw told you he was scared.

“You can’t just sit there and fucking die because you’re waiting for me, you can’t do that.”

“Why? You’re my teammate. I trust that you would come for me.”

“What if I hadn’t?” You shook your head at his question, at the absurdity of it. Was he hearing himself? Was he that consumed by whatever foolish notion that had somehow worked its way into his head? You pushed away from your desk and stood up so you could cross the floor to stand toe to toe with him.

“What if what if what if, fuck the what ifs, Simon. You. Wouldn’t. Leave. Me. Behind.” Each word was punctuated with a jab to his chest.

“And what if I had been injured, yeah? What then?” God, he was insufferable.

“You really mean to tell me that you wouldn’t crawl through broken glass to get to one of us.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Would you have this conversation with Soap or Gaz or Price? Then why are you so insistent about it with me? I was doing my job. Are you saying I can’t trust you? Trust my team? Because I can. I do. Don’t start telling me I shouldn’t.”

“You can. For fuck’s sake, you can.”

“You said it yourself, Simon, this job is dangerous and I knew the risks going in so I don’t know why you’re so insistent on thi-“

He tasted like nicotine and mint gum with maybe a hint of gunpowder, something so uniquely him. His lips pressed against yours with surprising gentleness and he cradled your face between his hands like you were the most precious glass figure he’d ever held. You fisted your hands in the lapels of his uniform jacket and sank into his touch. His fingers traced the skin of your cheeks, careful to not irritate the cuts you sustained days prior, and down to cup the back of your neck to draw you closer. A soft whimper escaped you at the sensation of his strong body pressing against yours.

You could easily hold your own in a fight, but the knowledge that this Adonis of a man was by your side through the hell of war was a comfort.

You needed to breathe but it wasn’t the painful reminder like it was when being tortured. His hands slid from your neck to cradling your jaw as you pulled away, settling back down on your heels.

“Don’t make me bury you,” he whispered, his forehead still pressed against yours.

You nodded, too dazed to say anything noteworthy. His thumbs stroked over your jaw and you blinked up at him.

“Was that a one time thing to shut me up or…”

“Fuckin’ insufferable, you are,” he grunted but leaned down to kiss you sweetly. There wasn’t much you could associate with Simon Riley and being sweet, but the tenderness in his touch made you want to hold him and keep him away from the world that had hurt him.

You felt his fingers brush against a nasty bruise on your jaw from a well aimed hit and saw his eyes darken.

“Did you question him already?”

“We’ve got a list of buyers that MI6 and Laswell are confirming right now,” he affirmed. Good. The mission was a success then.

“And how did you get this information?” you asked.

You met the gaze of the Ghost and didn’t flinch. He chuckled low and deep in his chest and tilted your chin up so he could see one of the cuts better.

“I did everything he did to you,” he said fiercely. "But I made sure it was permanent."

You moved your hand up to tangle with the short hair at the base of his neck and pressed your lips against his. Pulling back so just a small gap separated you, you murmured out a single sentence.

"I trusted you would."

#simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #ghost x reader #cod imagine #cod x reader

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seungrem · 1 day

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Jeonghan x m!reader

‘Make It Up To You’ ~*+

request (it disappeared from my drafts wtf)* - masterlist **

summary: Growing up together and later becoming idols, Jeonghan and Male!reader have always had a special connection. On a night defined by sleep deprivation and impulsive decisions, a spotlight illuminates their true feelings for each other- allowing one action to lead to another.

( overview: shy idol!jeonghan, idol!reader, childhood friends, smut: just a bj - hannie receiving, and hickies - reader receiving, more fluff than not, hickies subtly seen by other members, other seventeen member cameos with ‘going seventeen’ mentions )

emoji code:

🌱 ( short story / oneshot - 3.5k words )

🧸 ( fluff )

-❄️ ( +18, mdni )

☁️ ( stands for y/n )

likes, comments, & reblogs r appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Which number?”

“1114” Jeonghan responded, following ☁️ as the two strolled down their hotel’s posh hallway. After a long flight, the exhausted duo solely sought to fall into their beds and rest.

Upon reaching their shared room, ☁️ unlocked their door and swung it open. The two trudged in, dropping their bags onto the ground almost immediately. ☁️ traveled down the tiny hallway and into the bedroom, stopping upon seeing only one bed. After a few seconds, he felt Jeonghan’s breath glide across his neck from behind.

“What’s wrong?” Jeonghan asked, peaking over ☁️’s shoulder.

“There’s only one bed.” ☁️ groaned, him then looking over his shoulder. Jeonghan stood inches behind ☁️ with an expressionless face, the dark blue light emitting from the window casting its soft hues across his face.

“Who booked the rooms?”

“Seungcheol, I think.” ☁️ responded, him then walking toward the bed and sitting on it.

“We can talk to him after we rest. I don’t mind if you don’t.” Jeonghan said, walking toward the other side of the bed and uncovering the sheets.

“I don’t.” ☁️ replied, smiling to himself as he, too, climbed into the sheets. He placed his phone on the nightstand and looked over to Jeonghan, who was still engulfed in the pre-dawn hue. The man looked back at ☁️, the two staring at each other for a few seconds before bursting out in a tired laughter.

“Stop looking at me.” Jeonghan teased, draping the blanket onto his shoulder as he turned the entirety of his body to face ☁️.

“Nah, you stop looking at me.” ☁️ responded, smiling softly as he continued his gaze. After a few more seconds of quick glances, ☁️ rolled his eyes and laid on his back. The two laid in silence, ☁️ noticing Jeonghan continue to stare out of the corner of his eye.

“You know..” Jeonghan sighed. “I’m glad you let me you convince you to join the group.”

☁️ furrowed his eyebrows, looking over to see a sleepy Jeonghan. “Where’s this coming from?” ☁️ teased, “Since when did you get all sentimental?”

“I’m serious. We’ve known each other for a long time.. and we’ve always been together.”

“Yeah.. I’m glad too. I don’t know what I’d be doing right now if not for you.”

The two once again sat in silence for a while before Jeonghan proceeded.

“Sorry.. that was random.” Jeonghan muttered, rubbing his eyes.

“No, no- it’s fine. I like when you actually say how you feel.”

Jeonghan reached over to ☁️’s arm, grabbing it and suddenly pulling the man close to him. Though confused, ☁️ was too tired to process the man’s actions. He let Jeonghan wrap his arm around his waist, though his heart continued palpitating as his crush abruptly spooned him. Though he would never admit it to Jeonghan, ☁️ savored it- him closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep after another minute.

“Wake up~” Jeonghan hummed, snuggling his nose into ☁️’s neck. ☁️ opened his eyes, taking a deep breath as he once again felt the man’s arm weighing down his torso. Slowly rubbed his eyes, he turned his head to look at Jeonghan.

The sun’s rays gleamed through the window, illuminating the fact that Jeonghan was in nothing but a robe.

“Hey, goodmorning. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, did you?” ☁️ muttered, confused as to why the man was still holding him. Jeonghan raised his head up and rested an elbow on the pillow, him now looking down at ☁️.

“Yes. I brought our bags over to the room because I know we were tired early. Your toothbrush is already in bathroom and you can use my toiletries. Also, I ordered breakfast for us already, I know what you usually get so I figured I’d-“

“Hey.” ☁️ turned his body to face Jeonghan with his eyebrows still furrowed. The man remained quiet, tilting his head in confusion. “Thank you for doing all of this,” ☁️ muttered, raising his head and looking over to the suitcase that sat against the wall, “but.. why’re you acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“Just.. different. You’re treating me, like-“ ☁️ looked down at Jeonghan’s arm across his waist, and then back to him. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t like it?”

☁️ tilted his head as if pondering a response. “I mean..”

“I was too tired to realize what I did last night- or rather, this morning, and considering we slept like that.. I figured you didn’t mind.” Jeonghan stated softly, removing his arm from around ☁️.

“Oh, I don’t mind.. at all actually.”

“Ah, really?” Jeonghan was taken aback, only raising an eyebrow at the response.

☁️ felt his body warm up as he continued to look up at Jeonghan, the man’s lips slowly forming a smirk. As the man slowly leaned into him, ☁️ unconsciously did the same- their faces becoming only inches apart before a series of knocks erupted from down the hotel room’s hall.

Instantaneously realizing what he was doing, ☁️ yanked his head back and faced the opposite direction. He heard Jeonghan huff and slide off of the bed, ☁️ scared to look over to him.

“I’ll be in the bathroom.”

—

☁️ glanced over to Jeonghan, who immediately glanced back from across the tiny table in which they sat. The two awkwardly ate their breakfast together, with the sound of metal forks tapping against porcelain plates echoing around them. The two stole occasional glances from each other, having not said a word since room service’s knock. Finishing first, Jeonghan waited patiently for the man across from

him.

☁️ tapped the napkin on the edges of his mouth and looked up at Jeonghan.

“Thanks for getting me breakfast.”

“It’s no problem..” Jeonghan hesitated. As he opened his mouth to speak again, ☁️ pushed his dishes aside and stood up.

“I’m going to shower quickly.” ☁️ announced, swiftly turning around and traveling back into the bedroom. Jeonghan stood up immediately after, following ☁️.

The man began hastily digging through his suitcase for clothes as Jeonghan peaked in.

“☁️..”

“Yes?” ☁️ responded, continuing to pull items out of the bag.

“Can we talk about earlier?” The man asked, walking into the room and sitting onto the bed.

☁️ huffed and put pulled-out clothes on top of the suitcase. He then looked back at Jeonghan and stood up, sitting next to him.

“I didn’t mean to-“

“You have nothing to apologize for.” ☁️ interrupted, him looking into Jeonghan’s eyes. ☁️ could tell the man was at a loss for words by his wistful eye contact, resulting in him taking Jeonghan’s hands and holding them in his own.

“I’ve liked you for long time.” Jeonghan dully blurted out, him then looking down at his intertwined hands. “If you don’t feel that way, I’d compl-“

“I’ve liked you for a while now, too.”

Jeonghan’s eyebrows rose upward. “Really? Did you know about how I felt?”

☁️ shook his head. “Not really.. you’re naturally caring towards everyone so I didn’t think twice of it.”

Jeonghan looked back at ☁️ and nodded in understanding.

“I’d ask if you knew how I felt, but-“ ☁️ began.

“Actually..” Jeonghan interrupted. “One of the others told me that you liked me a bit.”

“What?!” ☁️ grimaced, unintentionally squeezing the man’s hands.

“It was a few months ago, though. So, I was worried that you didn’t feel the same way anymore. I tried to show you how I felt but I guess you never noticed.”

“What the hell Hannie?!” ☁️ yelled, yanking his hands away and softly pushing the man.

“What?”

“You couldn’t just tell me??”

“I was nervous..”

“Guess you didn’t want me bad enough then.” ☁️ teased, rolling his eyes as he stood up. Jeonghan quickly grabbed his wrist, stopping the man.

“I did..” Jeonghan tilted his head to the side and yanked ☁️ forward once again. The man fell into his body, not noticing Jeonghan’s shy smile.

“Assuming you still do?” ☁️ asked as he placed a hand on Jeonghan’s shoulder, leaning over his lap as the two inched closer.

“Mhm.” Jeonghan responded, placing a hand on ☁️’s waist as the two then smashed their lips together. With his eyes wide open, ☁️ looked at Jeonghan, who had his eyes closed and increased his grip on the boy’s waist. After another second, he felt his body heat back up, ☁️ melting into the flame that was Jeonghan.

☁️ slid the hand on Jeonghan’s shoulder around his neck while placing his other on the man’s chest. It didn’t take long for their tongues to begin intertwining as well, deepening their kiss. ☁️ felt his bulge grow as he slowly rubbed against Jeonghan’s exposed thigh, him also feeling Jeonghan move his hand from ☁️’s waist up to his shoulder. It was then that Jeonghan quickly pulled his lips away from ☁️’s, him instead positioning them onto ☁️’s neck. He bit gently and sucked at the skin, changing his lip’s placement every few seconds. ☁️ practically whimpered at the sensations, allowing his body to soften in Jeonghan’s grasp.

As the man switched to the other side of ☁️’s neck, ☁️ noticed the alarm clock behind Jeonghan- it reminding him of their schedule.

“Hey-“ ☁️ pulled away softly to look at Jeonghan.

“What’s wrong?” The man asked innocently, wippng his mouth.

“We have an hour before we all leave, and I still need to get ready.”

Jeonghan looked down seemingly disappointed, ☁️ assuming he misunderstood.

“I mean I liked it, I just-“ ☁️ looked down to Jeonghan’s lap, where his bulge was very visible despite the thickness of his robe. “Oh.”

“Ah- I’m sorry, you should go shower.” Jeonghan removed his hands from around ☁️ and placed them over his erection. He then scooted away from ☁️, crossing his legs.

“Well you’re already hard..”

“☁️, go shower.”

“Just let me help quickly.”

“….Quickly.” Jeonghan instructed after thinking for a few seconds, him then untying his robe as ☁️ hurried over to his side. The man’s dick popped up as he moved the robe off of his shoulders, exposing his stomach and chest as well. ☁️ placed a hand on his lengthy cock, stroking it a few times before leaning forward and shoving it into his mouth. Shifting his tongue around Jeonghan’s cock as he bobbed his head, ☁️ felt the man brush his hand down ☁️’s back.

☁️ continued to shift up and down, occasionally hearing a soft moan from Jeonghan. After amother minute, Jeonghan moved his hand from ☁️’s back up to his head- grabbing it and forcing the length deeper down ☁️’s throat. Jeonghan now guided ☁️’s head up and down faster and faster between each second, making the man gag.

“Sorry, you okay?” Jeonghan asked after yanking off of his dick. ☁️ wiped his mouth and nodded, pushing Jeonghan’s hand off of his head.

“Yeah.” He responded, placing his lips back onto Jeonghan’s cock shortly after. Back to a normal pace, ☁️ continued oscillating his head, it now earning him frequent moans from Jeonghan. The man continued to throw his head back and whine as ☁️ throated the entirety of his length.

“Ah- I’m close.” Jeonghan eventually whimpered, pulling ☁️ off of his dick but keeping the man’s head close to his thigh. Jeonghan began rapidly stroking his cock in a haze, yelling out as white liquid shot out of his cock. ☁️ watched as some of it fell onto his cheek, him flinching before Jeonghan’s hasty strokes slowed.

With Jeonghan breathing heavily above him, ☁️ raised his head back up, using a finger to wipe the semen off of his face.

“Ah- I’m so sorry, I’ll make it up to you.” Jeonghan said, leaning over to help wipe the liquid off. “I promise.” He then murmured.

☁️ pecked the man on the cheek with a soft smile. “I believe you.” He whispered before standing up and walking over to the bathroom.

“Can’t you just help me?”

☁️ stared at Jeonghan, who held his hands in his jean pockets. The two stood close together in the middle of a dimly lit school hallway.

“Move, I’m not helping you.” Jeonghan responded, attempting to walk around ☁️. ☁️ wrapped his hand around the tiny mic on his collar, using his other to make a fist around Jeonghan’s.

“But you said you would.” ☁️ whispered.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, still help.”

Jeonghan sighed as ☁️ took his hands off of the mics, him then holding out his hand. The man placed his palm in ☁️’s and intertwined their fingers. ☁️ smiled and whispered a ‘thank you’ as the two turned to continue down the eerie hallway. Just as they began to walk, footsteps echoed from behind them.

“Hey! What’re you two doing?” Dino called out, him then running over from down the other end of the hallway.

“We’re completing our missions.” ☁️ responded dismissively, softly tugging Jeonghan’s arm to start moving.

“You’re teaming?” Dino asked, him now standing in front of the two.

“No, I’m just doing my mission.”

“Your mission is to hold his hand?” Dino asked, him then reaching his hands out as if preparing to separate the two.

“Pretty much..” ☁️ said, grimacing as Dino placed a hand on both Jeonghan’s and ☁️’s wrist. Dino looked at ☁️ with a smirk before ☁️ whispered, “Dino, I’ll beat your ass if you try it.”

“I’m just completing my mission.” Dino whispered, removing his grip of the duo’s wrist. A small, glittery sticker now sat on both of their hands, leaving the two confused. “I have to leave stickers on each member.. Also you have some stuff on your neck.” Dino pointed at ☁️’s bruises, startling both him and Jeonghan. How he was able to see the hickeys in the hallway’s dimness was beyond them.

“Oh, uh- thanks. I’ll be sure to wipe it off when we finish.” ☁️ responded awkwardly, moving to the side next to Jeonghan to allow Dino to pass them.

“Mhm. Do you know where the other guys are by chance?” Dino asked, looking the two up and down as he did.

“We haven’t- this place is big so keep looking.” Jeonghan responded dryly, moving Dino along.

“So you’ll help him but not me?” Dino complained, rolling his eyes with a smile and continuing down the hallway.

“You’ll be alright.” Jeonghan called out, the two watching as Dino disappeared in the distance.

“You need to steal a member’s phone and make a call on it, right?” ☁️ asked, turning to Jeonghan. He watched as the man got extremely close to him, using a finger from his free hand to peel the sticker off of his other hand.

“Mhm. Let’s follow Dino.” Jeonghan then responded, power walking forward with ☁️ following.

“Wow.. you’re mean” ☁️ teased, practically jogging beside the man. Jeonghan seemed to ignore the comment, him choosing to change the subject instead.

“☁️, when he pointed at your..”

“Is it that noticeable?”

“Mm.. just pull your shirt up.” Jeonghan replied, using his free hand to adjust ☁️’s top.

Their hands still intertwined, the two continued to wander until they found Dino, them watching as he turned the corner. They silently followed from a distance, seeing that he had eventually disappeared into a room. The two crept over to the room’s window, where they saw two other members standing together beside a bright, red light. Another person lingered slowly down the hallway, wearing a large piece of cloth over his head.

“Is that supposed to be a ghost?” ☁️ asked, about to laugh.

“I guess. Let’s just go in.” Jeonghan replied, walking over to the room door and sliding it open. Dino and DK yelled out, horrified, while Seungcheol jumped slightly.

“Relax, it’s just us.” ☁️ giggled, approaching the small group. As the duo strolled over to the other side of the room, Jeonghan leaned over to whisper in ☁️’s ear.

“Tell Seungcheol that your mission is to hug all of the members and then hug him. He’ll do it willingly and I’ll take his phone.”

☁️ nodded in understanding, remembering that Seungcheol usually wears his phone in his back pockets.

“Hey guys, my mission is to hug everyone. Can I?” ☁️ asked as he and Jeonghan stood in front of the three. DK and Seungcheol looked the two up and down, while Dino tilted his head in confusion.

“You told me your mission was to hold hands with him.” Dino said in a state of confusion.

“Oh, no. That’s his mission.” ☁️ replied, pointing at Jeonghan. “You might’ve misheard, you do that a lot.”

“He does! It’s super annoying.” DK responded, turning from ☁️ to Dino. At a loss for words, Dino held his arms out mouthing a ‘What?!’.

“I’ll help you with your mission if you help me with mine.” Seungcheol grinned, turning to ☁️.

“What is it?” Jeonghan asked.

“I have a keychain plushie that Mingyu is supposed to keep on him until the end of the game. He saw DK give it to me after he stole it, so can you keep it away from him?”

Jeonghan took the small dog plushie from Seungcheol and placed it into his back pocket.

“Okay, now come here.” ☁️ said, dragging Jeonghan next to him while he held his arms up for a hug. Seungcheol wrapped his arms around ☁️’s back, squeezing him slightly as the two embraced. With his head in between Seungcheol‘s shoulders, ☁️ could see Jeonghan place a finger on his mouth while looking over to DK and Dino.

“Are those hickies on your neck?” Seungcheol whispered, continuing his embrace.

“No, just.. bruises. I didn’t sleep that well because you booked us a room with one bed.”

“Doesn’t look like you two slept at all.” Seungcheol said, letting go of ☁️.

“Hey Seungcheol!” DK shouted as ☁️ and Seungcheol had finally let each other go. ☁️ looked over to DK and then to Jeonghan, who had Seungcheol’s phone to his ear.

“Stop snitching, Dokyeom.” ☁️ growled, leaving Seungcheol confused and looking behind him.

“Hello?” Jeonghan hummed as he then dragged ☁️ to a corner of the room. He showed the phone screen to a camera attached to the ceiling.

“My mission is complete~” He cooed, smiling brightly. ☁️ stumbled behind again as Jeonghan hurried back over to Seungcheol, holding the man’s phone out as he approached him. He ended the call before Seungcheol was able to snatch the device back.

“Thank you~” Jeonghan waved teasingly. ☁️ smiled at Seungcheol as his mouth was open ajar.

“You two are menaces!” DK yelled out.

——

“So, who completed their missions?”

Jeonghan, ☁️, Dino, Minghao, and Hoshi raised their hands while the others groaned. Jeonghan started.

“My mission was to make a call on somebody else’s phone, and I used Seungcheol’s.”

“You mean you stole it?” Seungcheol argued, throwing his hands up as he spoke. Jeonghan just smiled innocently in response.

“My mission was to follow another member for the entire game, and I followed Jeonghan.” ☁️ stated, him earning some nods from the other members, and another grimace from Dino.

“Anyway, my goal was to make each member wear a sticker until the end of the game. I made sure to get most of them without them knowing. The only people I told were Dokyeom, ☁️, and Jeonghan.” Dino explained, showing everyone his small pack of unpeeled stickers. ☁️ looked over to Jeonghan nervously, the two making eye contact almost immediately.

“I took mine off, actually.” Jeonghan said, showing Dino his wrist. Dino stared at his wrist for a few seconds before smacking the table. He then stood up and began pacing back and forth behind his chair, yelling out as he did so. The group bursted out in laughter as they watched their frustrated maknae sit back down.

After another minute of Minghao and Hoshi explaining how they won (Minghao having to take someone’s flashlight for the rest of the game and doing so by trading one for another with Seungkwan, and Hoshi having to dance the entirety of ‘Super’ uninterrupted- which he did by locking himself in a classroom) the group said goodbye to the cameras and ended their day’s schedule. Their last event was to film a ‘Going Seventeen’ video in a school decorated in a ghostly and haunted fashion, which exhausted everyone.

Jeonghan and ☁️ strolled down their hotel’s posh hallway; their hands still intertwined and bodies close together. After a long day, the exhausted duo solely sought to get comfortable.

“Did you want me to make it up to you tonight?” Jeonghan asked with a sly smile.

“As long as you don’t leave another mural along my neck, sure.” ☁️ replied with a tender tone, him then softly squeezing Jeonghan’s hand and looking over at him.

“Alright.”

a/n: i made u wait two months for this- i’m so sorry lol :,) hope it was worth the wait tho, thank u for requesting ♡ alsooo another side note- but jeonghan is such a hard person to write for because (from what i know/have seen) he doesn’t express himself very much. which is fine, im just scared to write him and how he talks accurately. but anyways thx for reading !

likes, comments, & reblogs r appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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cosmos-coma · 13 hours

Text

Sleep Deprived

A/N: still alive!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 1005

Warnings: Unedited, Toot-Rotting fluff :)

Summary: You are far too nice and cannot seem to say no when the team keeps asking you for favors. Now you're ridiculously sleep-deprived and Bucky is determined for you to finally get some rest. (Grumpy Bucky X Sunshine Reader)

Bucky Masterlist

Buy me a Coffee?

_____

Kindness had always been something you prided yourself on; your willingness to help and be patient with others had almost always done you well, but sometimes you were just too nice

First, it was helping Nat go through her old paperwork late one night; she had been in an absolute rush trying to find this old file before the deadline and you didn’t even think of refusing. Then it was Tony, who all but forced you to fill in for one of his lab techs in an overnight experiment. Then Steve wanted help with some confounded modern technology that Sam swore he didn’t have the time to teach him.

On top of it all you had hardly been sleeping the last few nights anyway.

Where you once felt vibrant and bright was now filled with far-distant gazes and tired smiles. Not that you really noticed, right now you were only focused on opening your eyes again after each agonizingly heavy blink.

“Y/N are you sure you want to come?” Steve asked, “You look like you could use a 90-year sleep…” he commented with a quiet huff of laughter.

You barely even registered the joke, instead just smiling sleepy on instinct to his small laugh, “I’m sure, I really do want to go. I promise I’ll be okay once we get going” you assured. The team had been planning this outing for weeks now and you swore you wouldn’t miss it. Not only that but you really didn’t want to miss out on a chance to spend a little more time with Bucky outside of work.

He had snared you at the very first moment and he didn’t even know it. His bright blue eyes had turned away from their conversation, a small frown on his lips from whatever had just been said, and turned to you instead- jolting you with a force you couldn’t have foreseen. Ever since then your heart had been hooked, its strings unwillingly tangled by the smallest interactions.

Not you’d ever admit that to anybody.

“Doll, I really think you should consider staying home and getting some rest…” your heart thrummed as Bucky spoke, his arms crossed over his chest as he gave you a look.

But you only held up your hands, smiling your assurances as you spoke, “I can last a few more hours..! I’ll take a nap as soon as we get back, but I’m sure I’ll last.”

The other members of the team only looked at each other, sharing doubtful glances but nodding nonetheless- if you really wanted to go they weren’t going to try and stop you.

“Alright then,” Nat said with a shrug and stood up, “let’s all head out then.”

Everyone stood up at once and you followed suit, your vision swimming as you stood up far too fast. “Whoa.. um, I mean… Whoo! Yeah, let’s do this…!” You took a staggering step forward. You refused to look like you couldn’t keep up and so you pushed through, giving yourself no time for recovery.

Thankfully there was still one person watching you. Bucky stood up to follow, lingering by your side as the others moved on ahead. He’d tell himself it was purely to watch over you, but he couldn’t deny the lingering urge to be near you. Ever since your first day at the tower when you flashed your annoyingly bright smile at him… he knew he’d never be able to think of anything else.

You stumbled but quickly caught yourself, your breathing ragged and worn as your body begged for rest. “Doll, please-“ but he didn’t have a chance to finish as you stumbled towards the ground yet again.

Strong hands shot out to catch you, your body almost completely limp in his firm grasp. “Oh I…” you started, struggling to keep your consciousness and your breath, “Sorry… I’m okay….”

But Bucky only frowned and shook his head, his hands scooping you up bridal style and he turned to the rest of the team who had stopped to turn back, “You guys go ahead. We’re gonna stay here and get some rest.” He said as he walked back toward the couch, acting as if holding you against his chest was the most natural thing in the world.

“You don’t have to do that, Bucky…” you mumbled against his chest, your body more than happy to sink into him.

“Shh, yes I do…” he spoke quietly, the whole room settling into a calm quiet as the rest of the team headed out the door, “You can’t keep doing this to yourself, Doll… I know you want to be nice, but you’re only gonna wind up hurt.” He chided as he took a seat on the couch and laid back against the armrest.

Thanks to your lack of sleep you had no shame in rolling on top of him, your cheek squishing against his chest as you let out a tired huff. “I’m not.. good at saying no…” you murmured with eyes closed, sleep coming on fast in your comfortable state.

The grumpy ex-soldier grinned despite himself, your sweet smooshed face stirring something in his old heart. He pulled a blanket off the top of the couch, draping it over the two of you as you seemed to be in the last thralls of consciousness.

“Bucky…?”

“Yes, Doll?”

“Will you be here when I wake up…? Please..?” Your soft voice asked, your fingers curling around his shirt in an effort to make him stay- but he didn’t need any swaying.

A grin, as bright as your own, broke through his expression, and he nodded quietly, “I’ll be right here, Doll. I promise you….”

---

And he kept his promise.

Hours later the rest of the team had finally returned, initially boisterous and full of laughter, they were quickly quieted down by the sight before them.

There on the couch you and Bucky continued to lay, his strong arms wrapped firmly around your frame with his sleeping face tucked into the top of your head.

_____________________________

General Bucky Taglist:

@writingmysanity @simpxinnie @goldylions

If I missed or accidentally tagged you lmk! Wanna be added General Bucky taglist? Please ask/DM me!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic #bucky imagine #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes x reader #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x you #james barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #James Bucky Barnes imagine #mcu imagine

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carmenized-onions · 15 hours

Text

Pretty. | Bolting Down Booths

logline; locking down chairs and a sweaty sleep deprived man (for now) (for the night) (platonically) (for now) (what?) (I didn't say anything).

series history, this is the third; First, Second

portion; 4.5k+

possible allergies; Negative self-talk (baby, Tony's mentally ill, get WITH it). We are once again, eatin' meat (beef!). Did I give the reader a curly girl routine? ....Perhaps...

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns, but 'girl' is thrown around quite a bit.)

is this entire series just a love letter to me wanting to take care of this guy? maybe so. maybe so.

Lifesaver. Lifesaver. Lifesaver.

Alright, fuck, you need to put on something to listen to because the thought isn’t leaving and the cherry lifesaver swirling in your mouth is so ironic that it’s leaving a bitter taste.

It’s after hours at The Bear, just after midnight, and you’ve returned to a clinically cleaned restaurant, ‘Ah… Syd keeps it locked in.’ and you’re thankful that you’re alone because it means everyone’s getting their proper rest. However, it also means your intrusive thoughts are really drilling in tonight.

You drop your phone on one of the booth tables, blasting music at full volume. That’s better. Little more static to work with now. You measure each booth and table for the third time tonight, rechecking that the angles are exactly as Syd had asked. They’re still perfect. Alright, get a move on, it’s not gonna somehow get more correct than correct…

You slip yourself under the table, verifying that the bolts are the proper fit— Also for the third time today. Hey, what if Home Depot fucked you earlier?! It’s important to check! You’re definitely not unreasonably anxious right now! But your power drill is practically screaming to be used at this point, so you acquiesce.

You’re on the last bolt when you hear a click of the front door opening.

“Fuck!” It scares you so shitless you jump and knock the top of your head on the table. You lay down quickly, back pressed to the floor to get a look at the perp. You point your power drill menacingly toward the front door.

Oh.

“Fuck are you doing here?” You and Carmen manage to speak in perfect unison.

There’s a beat before you opt to go first.

“Bolting.” Still lying under the table. You raise your drill upward, revving it a few times.

He swallows, sniffs, and scratches his nose. “Thought you were doing that tomorrow?”

“Technically it is tomorrow.” He scoffs, so you continue. “No, uh, Nat asked if I could come in after hours so I’m not as much of an active tripping hazard.” You gesture to yourself on the floor.

“Smart.” He rubs his eyes. He looks red and pink all over.

“…Thought you were getting off early today?”

“I did.” He clears his throat when you make a face about it. “I—I uh, did leave early, I just, just thought I’d come in and uh… Do some work.”

He rubs the back of his neck, continuing after a beat. “I’m, I’m uh, I’m good— In, in the kitchen.”

You chew at your inner cheek, staring at a very clearly distressed Carmy. His eyes are lined red, hair is in disarray.

“…Did you do it?” Did you break up with your girlfriend?

“…Yeah. I-I did.”

You just nod, thoughtful, before slipping back under the table, finishing drilling in the last bolt. “If you need a palate tester, lemme know.”

“Heard.”

The moment is soft but then cut short by you scrambling to quiet your phone atop your table when a perfectly unfitting upbeat song starts to sing out at max volume. He hides his smile poorly as he heads into the kitchen.

It’s a nice hour or so, in the front of house. You drill each bolt efficiently, grounding each booth and table in their place permanently. Your tunes play at a much lower volume now, careful to not alert the lone chef in the back. The intrusive thoughts have vanished with Carmen around, even if distant. He might not consider himself a brightening presence, but to you, he certainly is a nice lamp.

You stand up finally, finished, doing a big stretch of your arms and a crack of your back. You notice Carmen looking at you through the glass. He looks away, then back again, raising a hand, motioning for you to come in. Looks like you finished right on time.

It smells fucking incredible in here. You’re once again trying to temper your reaction as you pass through the door, not wanting to stroke his ego, but he’s already clocked it. It’s okay, you clock his boyish smirk of pride before he hides it with his hand, so you’re even.

On the steel table, plated— On their one black plate, because he’s not over having to settle for less— Are three perfectly cubed and seared pieces of marbled meat, glazed mushrooms, and some round breaded things that you’re not quite sure about. All perfectly plated and decorated with greens, parsley, specifically.

You step next to him, staring at the plate intently, taking it in visually. “Well?”

He hums in a way that sounds like a laugh, arms crossed. He stares at his own plate just as intently. “Pan-seared Wagyu— Sirloin. Wild mushrooms, basted in the same fat. Hazelnut-potato croquettes—”

“What the fuck is that?”

He doesn’t miss a beat, he just smiles— In a way that looks actually kind of genuine. He likes to teach. “Seasoned mashed potatoes, basically. Breaded with bread crumbs and hazelnut, in this case, and fried. There’s a gruyere center, to this one.”

You don’t miss the fact that he’s not stuttering anymore. He’s right. He’s good in the kitchen. In all the ways that entails.

“Test?” He lifts a fork to you. You take it.

You lean forward, elbow on the table. You take polite, small cuts of each part of the meal initially, it feels bad to destroy what is an art piece.

But then he leans forward, head meeting your level, amusement lilting his voice. “You know it’s a compliment to eat?”

You huff, taking a larger piece of everything to get it all in one bite. Everything is so soft and lush that you don’t need a knife. Goddamn. You take your bite. Son of a bitch.

You thought fucking brisket was good?

“Oh my god.” You put your hand in front of your mouth as you chew, switching your gaze to him. “Carmen, oh my fucking god!”

“Yeah?” His glow is slowly coming back to him, like a flickering halo. “Don’t pull punches.”

“Fuckin’— So good! What is it, fire? Excellent? What’s the top one? I’m angry that it’s this good.”

“Angry is a new one.”

“I’m furious!” You laugh, “I always thought luxury dining was fuckin’ scam, I’m not gonna lie to you. But I— I took one bite and I’m incredibly full and— And, it’s just— It’s really really good, Carm—Chef. Gotta show it to Syd for the menu.”

He nods, smiling, finally, unhidden. “Thank you, Chef.”

He grabs the fork from you to try for himself, but before he can get to his own plate, you press the back of your hand to his chest, holding him back. “Uh, ah, can I do a thing, for you?”

He squints, curiously, putting his fork down. “…Yes?”

You grin, walking around the kitchen the second he affirms it. “Where’s your wine box?”

“Ah… By expo, over…” He points to it.

You pop it open, hand waving over each bottle for the right one you’re searching for. “I’ll pay for it.”

“S’fine.”

A young Pinot Grigio, you go with. Ripe, sweet, airy. You walk by him again, grazing your hand on the small of his back and placing the bottle in front of him. “Open, don’t pour.”

“Heard.” He roots away for the bottle opener.

“And get me a clean knife and cutting board!”

“Fuck are you doin?” He doesn’t complain, getting what you ask for, but he is quite curious.

You sort through the fruit pantry in Marcus’ section, grabbing the most perfect white peach you can— It wouldn’t be perfect by morning, he won’t mind. “I am an occasional bartender and poor man’s sommelier…”

You meet him back at his station, slicing the peach thinly with the knife he’s left for you. “So, when I’m given the chance to pair a meal, I try to.”

You halve the thin slices, then place a few in each glass Carmen’s so kindly set out for you— Tulip bowled cups. You whistle, “You know your shit…”

His eyes light up, just a bit. He shrugs, handing you the uncorked bottle when you reach for it. “My job.”

“You’re good at it.” You pour the wine, proper— No stops missed for Carmen. “Okay, okay, okay…”

You hand him his glass— The one you think you did a slightly better peach placement on. “Alright, now you can have the dish you worked hard on.”

With a small smile, he takes a generous bite of his dish, takes his time digesting it, then sips your wine. He tilts his head, surprised by how much of a liking he’s taking to it. “S’fire. Well worth it.”

You sip your own glass, smiling, you explain before he can ask you to. “Yeah? Good. Citrusy white to cut the fat of wagyu. Or something. Poor man’s sommelier, y’know.”

“Hm.” He sniffs, and you try not to light up when he writes down the wine pairing at the bottom of his drafted recipe card. “Better than me.”

There’s a comfortable silence before he speaks up again. “You gonna head out?”

You squint at him, head tilted. “Are you?”

Once you know one Berzatto, you’ve known them all. Their tells included.

“…Eventually, yeah.”

“You drive?”

“I take the L.”

“Are you on the red or blue line?”

He doesn’t answer. So, that tells you he’s not on the only two 24-hour lines.

“…I’ll take a transfer—”

“When were you planning on going?” You cross your arms; he can tell where this is going and he hates it. You’re foiling his plan.

“When I’m done.”

“Done what?”

“…Cleaning.”

“I’ll help you,” You pick up the cutting board and knife swiftly. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

“I need to get work done—Too.” He takes a while to reply, but when he does, he speaks with haste.

You pause, putting the cutting board down. Let’s do the math here.

He said he came in ‘early’ this morning, but ‘early’ probably meant overnight because of the Fridge Guy. He left early, sure, before the dinner rush— But only to experience his first breakup—If you can call it that. Then he’s come back at midnight again, after everyone else has left. The likelihood he’s slept since the night before his opening isn’t impossible, but if he did sleep, he slept here. And he definitely hasn’t showered. He’s likely been awake 40 hours.

You nod, picking up the board again, walking it to the sink. You stand over it in thought.

“What’s wrong with home, Carm?”

“It’s gonna hit, if I go home.”

He swallows, “Everything’s gonna hit, when I go home.”

Now that you can understand. You nod, scrubbing the cutting board clean. “When your brother died, I holed up at my parents’ for two weeks.”

You don’t turn off the sink, even after you're done cleaning, because if you do, you fear he will hear your tell-tale heartbeat. “When I came back, my plants were half dead and my fridge was a biohazard.”

He sniffs, he’s waiting for the shoe to drop, for you to tell him he has to go home, that it only gets worse if you wait it out, that he needs to find a better way to deal with this—

“You can hole up at mine.”

When he doesn’t reply, you turn your head to look at him. He’s very hard to read but it looks like he’s entertaining the idea. You add, for the sake of levity, “You need a fuckin’ shower, man.”

He smirks, though the amusement doesn’t meet his eyes. “When I shower all my fuckin’ hairs gonna fall out.” He piles his dirtied utensils and boards, sidling up to the sink next to you.

“You need rosemary water.” You grab a dish rag, switching over to dry for him.

“Does that shit actually work?” You both quickly ebb into the domestic flow of handing off dishes. He mumbles ‘left-most drawer’, ‘top-shelf, right side’, and so on whenever you’re confused about where they go once they’re dry.

“It does. I have also had the ‘am I balding?’ crisis. Believe it or not.”

He stares at your hairline so intently you put your hand in front of it, flustered. He finally flicks his gaze back to yours. “If you’re really worried, you can make it pretty easy—”

“I’ll stay over.”

You take a second to register, then nod happily.

“Good. Where’s the black plate go?”

Your apartment is surprising because it’s built on top of an H&R Block, the concrete stairs leading up to it are chipped to hell, and the front door has clearly been graffitied then painted over then graffitied then painted over then graf—

And yet, it is almost certainly one of the best-looking apartments he’s seen in Chicago— On the inside at least.

None of the furniture matches, but it’s nice, it’s eclectic. It’s heavily thrifted and upcycled from furniture you found on the side of the road. That’s the nice thing, about being a fixer—Nothing’s trash if you believe in yourself. You drop your keys in a handmade clay tray— That’s the other thing Carm notices, so much of this is you alone.

The place is a mess, there’s half-finished projects in the corner of every room, tools strewn in odd places. And it’s perfectly welcoming. Warm. In a literal sense, too, because there’s a humidifier going off on a timer in the living room to make what Carmen estimates are your forty thousand plants and cuttings happy.

This is a perfect apartment because you live in it.

Nothing can hit, in here.

He comes back to reality when you reach your hand out to him, there’s a coat hanger in your other hand. Oh. Jacket.

“Oh, fuck.” He peels off his jacket, handing it to you. “I uh, I left your Carhartt at work.”

“S’fine, if I was in a rush for it back, I would’ve asked.” You brush off easily, hanging up the jean jacket in your small coat closet. “Ah…”

Your apartment has a pretty open layout, but you point at everything regardless.

“There’s the kitchen…” It’s on the right at the entry, with an open archway— Which you’re in the middle of rounding the corners on with plywood.

“The living room…” Straight ahead, he can see the half of it that isn’t blocked by the kitchen. You’ve got big windows, with a fire escape. Suncatchers and more plants are hanging from the ceiling by it.

“To the left, down the hall— The only hall, bathrooms on the right and straight ahead is the bedroom, you can put your shit there.”

His brows furrow, you say the last part quickly, and he’s going to say something but you grab the black plate he’s brought and brush past him to the kitchen.

So, he just shrugs off his backpack, “Heard.” And heads down the hall. For now.

It feels odd to put this very fancy, very expensive one black plate on top of the rest of your own cheap dishware— But he insisted you take it, so, here it is.

You march down the hall, going to grab towels for him from your room, but stop short when you hear him in the bathroom, mumbling, “Fuck is this?”

You peek in, “Fuck is what?” You come in when he turns the bottle in his hand for you to look at. You stare at it for a solid few seconds, genuinely alarmed, you look at Carmen with wide eyes.

“Carmy, look me in my eyes and tell me you know what conditioner is.”

“I—I know what conditioner is, but what are all the words for?”

“All the words?”

“Like, strengthening, bonding, texture—”

“Carmen?!”

“Don’t say my name like that…”

“You have wavy hair, too, Bear!” You stare wide-eyed, mouth in an open-mouth smile because if you don’t laugh you’ll start screaming. You swipe away the hair in front of his face, holding the tress between your fingers to get an idea of texture. You’re too focused to clock the way he flinches— At the nickname and the touch.

“We’ve got like, the same hair texture! What the fuck are you using?”

He doesn’t answer, he opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

“Carmen…” You can make a pretty good guess. He bristles again. He has discovered does not like it when you say his name with any sort of animosity or disappointment.

“Carmen no… Two in One?”

“…Five in One.”

“Five in One?!” You clutch the sides of your head. “What are the Five?!”

He waves his hands in defense, “It’s—”

“Y’know what, don’t fuckin’ tell me, I don’t wanna know, I don’t need to know.” You cover your face and shake your head. “Just— I will get you clothes and a towel, wash—” You reach into your shower, grabbing your fruity body wash. “—Wash yourself with this, like a civilized person— And just don’t— Don’t touch your hair, I’ll take care of your hair after you shower.”

“You’ll take care—”

“You’ve lost your hair privileges; I will be taking up the arms.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, “I just—You need a tutorial, please.”

He holds the body wash in his hand, debating this fight or not, “I think five is—”

“Just fuckin’ say heard.”

“Heard.”

Despite everything, you both laugh. You tap the doorway on your way out, yelling to no one as you turn back down the hall. “Corner!” It’s worth it when he laughs again.

Ironically, the one shirt you know will fit him that you have is ‘The Berf’, so you grab that. Pants are a bit tougher, but with enough scrounging through your closet you find a long-forgotten pair of sweatpants your brother left here ages ago.

You approach the bathroom door, it’s still ajar, so you invite yourself in. He’s staring at your skincare products with a clinical fascination, stopping only to acknowledge your presence.

“Alright, alright.” You pop your pile of things down on the sink counter, handing each thing to him individually.

“New toothbrush.” Still packaged. It’s got your dentist’s address on the clear plastic. “Pyjamas. Towel, wash cloth— I think you’re good.”

When you turn your head to look at him, you catch the tail end of him staring— Again, his eye contact is so soft and also scary. And now that the sleep is catching up to him, he’s half-lidded and— Goddamn it he is very pretty, sonofabitch.

He straightens up, sniffing, nodding as a form of thanks, the likelihood he’s registered anything you’ve said isn’t likely— Which is fine, you are now too flustered to care. There’s a boy in your house and you’ve just discovered he’s pretty.

“I’m just gonna wash my face n’ grab a few things and I’ll be out of your way.”

You wash your hands; he unwraps his toothbrush. And without verbally checking in, you once again flow into a silent rhythm. You grab your toothbrush, dole out toothpaste on both of your brushes, and stare at yourselves and each other in the mirror, side by side as you brush.

You make a face, and while he doesn’t fuckin’ guffaw, he does smile, foam peeking through the corners of his mouth, and that’s enough for you.

You rinse— You try to be dainty about it but it’s not, because when has brushing your teeth ever been dignified?

You pump face cleanser into your palm, then nod to him to do the same. Good Carm, he listens. Like a mime tutorial, he follows your actions of foaming it in the hands and properly washing his face. There’s hope for this five in one boy yet.

You pile together your skincare and leave him to shower in peace. More importantly, leave to let yourself lose it in peace.

Oh my god there’s a pretty boy in your bathroom and it’s two in the morning. What the fuck were you thinking? You just invited him over without hesitation? You met him like barely two days ago! Oh my god! There’s a pretty boy in your bathroom! And it’s two! In the morning!

You need to kill the teenage girl in your head because she’s freaking you the fuck out. You were literally being so calm and chill and cool and cool and chill and calm— Oh my god you’re doing it again—

Everything is fine. He’s literally here because he’s experiencing a torrential downpour of awful. You invited him over because you’d invite anyone like that over. Pretty or not. Get your head in order.

You take a deep, mindful breath and exhale, returning to neutral as you meditatively go through your skincare routine and change into your nice pajamas— Y’know, the one modest matching set for when you have guests or go somewhere. Instead of the one usual incredibly stained oversized t-shirt.

You set up a chair by your kitchen sink, towel on the back for comfort. You were serious about the hair thing. Your scalp and his are curly girl sisters, you cannot leave them to die like this.

When he comes out, knots in his back undone, steam wafting, grime finally removed, he approaches you with much more energy, and leans against the doorway. You both speak at once.

“Weird to see you out of uniform.”

You snort; he flattens his mouth into a line to keep from smiling too hard (which, for Carmen, would really just mean smiling with his teeth). But really, it is weird. You’re both suddenly… People. You can see all his tattoos and his stupid gold chain...And he can see you.

You kick the chair with your foot, gesturing to it. “Sit, I’m washing your hair.”

You’re walking past him before he’s got the chance to deny, collecting proper products from the bathroom to use. Y’know. Not fucking five in one.

Once again, good Carm listens, sitting in the chair. Not without complaints, though. “Big fan of babying people?”

You wrap the towel behind his neck, tilting his head back into the sink. If you pretend, it’s like a salon. You hum in reply, blunt, “Yeah, I am.”

“I like to take care of people. In a way, it’s kind of my job.” You re-rinse his hair once the water is warm— Thank God your kitchen faucet is a sprayer.

“You’re good at it.” He’s too comfortable and lethargic to be aggro about this, so he’s just sweet and honest. It’s hard not to beam.

“I try.” You massage shampoo through his scalp, “I know I’m pushy about it, sometimes.”

He sighs, a breath of relief. When’s the last time someone else washed his hair? He’s been cutting his own for years, he cannot remember the last time. Had to have been before New York.

“Were you pushy with Mikey?” He’s not fully sure why he said that, and he’s waiting for you to make him regret asking it.

You just hum, nostalgically amused, “I think I got pushy because of Mikey.”

“Stopped hoping my friends would take care of themselves with the right tools and decided to just take care of them myself.” You rinse the bubbles from his hair. You’re happy to see his wavy pattern returning.

“A lot of work.”

“Not to me.”

You pump conditioner into your hand— And while he’d probably love for you to elaborate on that point, you have to pivot, “Alright, this part you actually should pay attention to— When you condition— Because you will be conditioning, from this point on.”

He just grunts in reply, but it sounds like enough of a yes to you.

“—When you do it, you’ll hang your head upside down and apply conditioner from the bottom— You gotta like, squeeze your hair in it—” You do the proper routine, squelching his hair, does he laugh at the sound? Yes. Yes, he does. “It’ll sound like that. And then rinse.”

You look at his peaceful, amused expression. His eyes closed. “Heard.”

“Are you retaining any of this?”

“I said heard, didn’t I?”

You just scoff, rinsing his hair. You teach him how to scrunch with the towel, but his eyes are so dazed during it you give the poor boy a break and don’t explain that what you’re putting in his hair is mousse. He might have an aneurysm if you use a ‘food word’ in relation to hair right now.

“Alright, alright, the exhaustion is setting in, let’s get you to bed before you start seeing spiders.” You take his arm and hoist him up. Everything is fine until this bozo tries walking to the living room while you’re trying to pull him down the hall. You once again, speak in sync.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m taking the couch.”

He now realizes why you spoke so quickly about him putting his things away in your room instead of the living room. It’s like you just awoke every Italian ancestor in his bones because he is immediately alert.

“No, you’re not.”

That’s fine because he’s in your household, motherfucker. Your family tree is in the furniture.

“You’re the guest. You take the bed.”

“You’re the host. You take the bed.”

“I’m the one that invited you.”

“And what? You’re the girl.”

At a point, you are both speaking with your hands, words tumbling on top of each other's.

“Bitch—” “It’s just not right—” “I literally made you come over specifically to get proper rest—” “I will be haunted all night by my Nonna if you sleep on the couch—” “The couch is a pull-out, it’s comfortable!” “Then let me use it!” “No!”

This is going nowhere fast.

“My own grandmother takes the couch when I visit. She would throw me off my own balcony if I made a guest take the couch.” Is your hard stance.

And his, “My Nonno would stab me if I let a pretty girl sleep on a couch.”

Now this does immediately shut you the fuck up.

That doesn’t mean he’s won; he’s also shut the fuck up. A slip-up of mutually assured destruction.

You bite back your wheeze of shocked laughter, and you’re very thankful it’s two in the morning now because the moonlight through the window doesn’t entirely catch your reaction of being embarrassingly bashful in this moment. How did the teen girl in you survive? You were so sure you got her…

Your hands hang in the air for a moment, before you finally manage to say, “Either I take the couch—”

“No—”

“Or, it’s a double, so we share it.” You shrug, wringing your hands, “So whichever one you find the least sacrilege.”

God, there’s no simple way to make that not sound like you’re coming onto him, is there? You’re not, for the record. It’s just the fastest solution. You’ve shared beds before, it’s not a big deal— It’s actually only a big deal if you make it one, it’s actually very normal—Get this fucking teen out of here—!

“Fuckin’— Alright!” He huffs after thinking on it for some time, rubbing his forehead in some sort of anguish before marching down the hall.

When you don’t follow, he clicks his teeth. “C’mon, Tony.” His tone is languid and aggravated.

Ah, the sweet sound of a man who has had to compromise— But will be damned if he doesn’t get his part of said compromise. Also the sound of a man who really wishes he hadn't just said pretty girl.

You follow him to your room. Fuck it. Say the thing. You've been trying to keep a level social playing field with him anyway.

“Heard, pretty boy!"

two idiots realize the other one is pretty and nice and try to not acknowledge it (DIFFICULTY LEVEL: IMPOSSIBLE)

Would you believe me if I said I was trying to not do the 'one bed' trope? I really was! I'm not a huge trope guy! But writing it down I was like 'neither of these people would fucking fold'. The only other option would be for both of them to stare at each other in the hallway for 8 hours and come to no agreement. Did not plan Pretty Girl but thank god because it was the only thing that would get them out of that time loop.

It's always my favourite thing when a person who's been cavalier when it comes to boundaries suddenly finds their line (he's pretty) and is now immediately so hyphy. I hope you also messed with this.

Tell me your thoughts!! Favourite bits, lines, etc!! Feeds me!! (Oh, speaking of fed, shout out to Daniel NYC, I did steal their menu for this. I'll probably do it again because I am not a Michelin Star Chef.)

#carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto #carmy the bear #the bear fx #the bear x you #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear

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