con-gee

[con-gee]

When the Fandom writes Carmen being cared for and loved ❤️❤️❤️❤️

the man is a yearner! somebody please just give him a hug!

[con-gee]

it’s been a long day. an exhausting long day, in such an environment where everybody is required to be high-strung, deliberate, exacting on every action. everything was tense.

the decades vincent has on his plate never really made it more comfortable, if you were to dig through his psyche. it has simply rested on his shoulders, no amount of wine nor cigarettes can aid in chipping them away. his neck often stiff, shoulders tensed in all which he tries his best to alleviate by stretching, but it’s all temporal. moments in every hit of a cigarette, consequential in liquor.

you’re more than pleased to kiss and knead them away, though. it’s become a thing to look forward to, however late at night he finally comes home. like his job, your hands are methodical, pleased to dispel the invisible weight he carries on his muscles. your kisses on the back of his neck raise goosebumps on its wake, and vincent gets to breathe deeply and exhale relief as the pads of your fingertips soothe through their pressure.

he lays on top of you with his back on your chest, arms around his neck as his own hands hold them. you leave trails of kisses on his hair to his cheeks. he turns his body to now cage you beneath him, fingers combed in your hair and palm resting on your cheek, thumb caressing.

“mon amour,” face inches from yours as he looks through your eyes so soft, so lovingly sincere, “how could i ever give you my gratitude for loving me?”

you hold his face with both of your hands, “you existing with me is enough, my love.”

i finally got to watch anatomy of a fall hehe hes so

[con-gee]

i just imagine carmen is so warm, specially during cuddling. he’s your needed fix of endorphins at the end of a busy day. you dread the idea of having to leave his arms. and he loooves it when you’re like a koala hanging onto him. it’s a crazy idea to the both of you to have something this good.

it’s that moment of clarity where it’s possible to have slow, deep breaths and a comfortable weight on his chest. he loves the smell of your hair, so so far away from the smell of herbs and meat. he loves the feeling of your eyelashes, even through his shirt, however weirdly specific that is. he loves the feeling of your soft skin against his calloused hands. he loves that you want this with him.

you love the peace of accepting that you can have each other. you love how he lets himself close his heavy eyelids with you next to him. you love how your heartbeats syncs with each other. you love knowing that he smiles to himself when you trace on his tattoos. you love it when he traces the planes of your face with his knuckles so softly. you love kissing him before the both of you gives in to slumber.

you both love coming home to each other.

[con-gee]

carmen berzatto coded

[con-gee]

i like ur username ^o^

thank you! i love congee

[con-gee]

heavy eyes, shimmering lights | robert fischer x reader

summary: "i had all and then most of you, some and now, none of you." (1k)

tags/warnings: song fic ish, canon-divergent, ambigious plot about reader, ehh pretty angsty, there's definitely some yearning, dreaming, pretty boy rich boy robert fischer from the movie inception (2010), half proofread, i havent been writing this is pretty rusty a/n: shoutout to chris nolan and his college years lucid dreaming

The nights are longer than the days, surprisingly for Robert.

In the office, it's all just consistent frigid conference rooms with tepid conversations about a stakeholder's status. A dry joke accompanied by dry laughs. Leaving fingerprints on the glass table. Reading the same corporate vocabulary on screens and prints. Drinking the same brew of coffee on the same mug. The same headache at around 3 o'clock.

Maybe it changes once in a while, Uncle Peter coming in and opening the whiskey that's only ever touched by Uncle Peter. Robert gives in and drinks what's poured in his glass, he leans back on his chair, he watches and listens to his uncle on the apparently ergonomic sofa. Something about the investment on earth elements.

Robert gets one last cup of coffee for the day, but this time on a to-go cup, and leaves the building as the sun sets. His driver greets him and he greets back. He arrives at his penthouse's building. Robert thanks and bids the driver goodbye for the day.

There's not much he does once he's home for the day. He lives alone, he doesn't have a pet, he doesn't have anyone to call nor to come over. It's quiet and empty.

Robert changes into softer clothes, much softer in comparison to the thousand dollar, special tailored suits. He cooks himself dinner. He eats the said dinner on his nice couch and turns on the grand television. He stops flicking through the channels when he stumbles upon the National Geographic, an episode about domesticated cats, it seems. Robert likes cats, he thinks, he's pretty sure he isn't allergic. He should maybe get a cat.

He forgets that he almost did get a cat, once.

The dishes are clean, the kitchen is kept tidy, he disregards the bottle of wine that's sitting on the counter he recently got as a gift from a distant aunt. Something about a dream vineyard and Maurice.

He stays in the living room and grabs one of the books on the coffee table. That coffee table with a few books scattered on it is one of the only unwinded parts in his house, anywhere else you look you'd think it's a new purchase from a real estate magazine. Robert attempts to read a few more after his third page, but his eyes are growing heavier and heavier.

Next thing he knows, he's in the shower.

The water runs through his body but he's aware of the steam clouding the bathroom. The glass walls are fogged, and his hair is thoroughly rinsed. Robert turns off the shower and steps on the rug, reaching for his towel. He messily dried off his hair as he heard a voice from outside the bathroom door.

"Bobby! The popcorn's ready, come on!"

The towel is wrapped around his waist as he goes on to step outside the bathroom, flicking the lightswitch off on his way. He calls out, "Coming, sweetie!" as he quickly put the clothes that were laid out on the bed. Robert smiled to himself.

He makes his way down to the living room. The only light sources were from the city beyond the glass walls and the big television. Robert sees you on the couch, bundled up in the adorned fleece blanket with a bowl of popcorn on your lap. You lift the blanket up for the space right next to you, beckoning him to sit exactly right there.

"Missed you, cuddlebug." You say. He smiles.

"Missed you more, darling." It slips out so naturally from his lips, the sweet pet names. He feels his chest narrow, for some reason.

Robert takes the space beside you, his hips and thighs touching yours. He crosses his legs under the blanket and puts his arm behind your back, his hand reaching your right shoulder. You rest your head by his collarbone as you press play on the remote. He naturally presses a kiss on your forehead.

"You smell nice." You cozy up to him, eyes set on the screen. The colors illuminate against your faces, and Robert can imagine how your eyes would glimmer in the brightness.

"Used your soap." He hummed as he heard the crunch of popcorn. You only let out a sound of amusement as you continued watching the movie.

Robert looks down and reaches for your free right hand. He caresses the back of your hand with his thumb. The softness made him warm all of a sudden.

An ambulance's red and blue lights were bright enough to catch Robert's eye. He follows it through his vision as it traverses to a farther place. A sudden movement against his lap takes his attention back to what's in front of him.

You set the bowl of popcorn on your side as the white cat stretches across his thigh and yours, and you coo. "Hello, sweet baby." You pet the back of its ears. Robert then also pets the cat on its back, feeling its soft, white fur.

"You have me, don't you Robert?" You say without looking at him, continuing to give the cat your attention.

It catches Robert off guard, furrowing his brows. "What was that?"

"I mean," The white cat curls up on your lap and closes its eyes. "You have some of me." You turn your head to your left, though not meeting his eyes and kiss the side of his neck. He didn't feel tickled, he's surprised.

"What?" He's confused and looks at you, meeting your eyes. They're looking right back.

"Do you have me, Robert?" He first thought that it felt weird that you were calling him Robert.

"Robert?" You put your hand on his cheek—

His eyes open and feels an abnormal pulse on his chest. There's sweat on the back of his neck and goosebumps against his soft sweater. The sky is still dark and the lights of the city shimmer against his eyes. They still feel heavy.

The book rests by his abdomen, leaving some pages creased. He picks it up, correcting the pages to normal and closes the book.

A small white paper sticks out from the edge.

"You have me, Robert. I love you." It has written.

He had you, he remembers. But now, it seems that he doesn't anymore.

[con-gee]

i miss writing!!

[con-gee]

intimate blurb | natasha "phoenix" trace x fem!reader

summary: you and natasha fall in love with each other for what feels like the millionth time. (270)

tags/warnings: heart clenching fluff that it borders angst, very ambiguous, let your imagination run wild for the context, pretty gay if you ask me, wrote this in one go; unedited.

a/n: i have little no plans on expanding upon this because i don't think my heart could handle it, hell i teared up from this short thing. from one lonely queer heart to another 🫂🫂

You trace your fingers along the high points of her face, both hands on both sides. With your hooded eyes, they follow the movement of them; they start on her forehead and brows, making their way to her cheekbones, then her jaw. You take your thumb to gently trace from her hairline down to her cupid's bow, following the ridge of her lips then her chin. You hold one side of her face completely, fingers combing through her hair a bit, thumb resting on her cheek. 

Natasha focused on your face the entire act. The way your eyes slowly move, she appreciates the fullness of your cheeks and lips, the length of your eyelashes. She takes in how glossy your eyes have become, seeing your throat move as you swallow. 

You both have fallen in love again with the other for the millionth time, it feels. You both could cry with how intense it is in the best way. You both relish the flutters in your chest, how they extend through your palms and make them feel tingly, how your cheeks warm, how you want to pull the other closer and tighter.

Natasha moves her head gently to kiss your palm, her eyes focused on yours while yours focused on her lips. 

You feel your waterline too full and your heart in your throat to feel your voice to be wobbly if you were ever to speak. It becomes too much and so you move your arms to wrap around her shoulders and bury your face to her neck. Natasha hugs your waist tight as she kisses your hair.