cowboylikefried - Tumblr blog

cowboylikefried · 10 days ago

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muah ty for the tag angel

favorite color: green, especially a soft looking green

last song i listened to: nettles by ethel cain and punisher by phoebe bridgers

currently reading: the only one left by riley sager (very good so far)

currently watching: love island usa (hate watching because nothing will top szn 6), a lot of baseball (duh)

currently craving: uhhhhh i have no idea tbh

drink of choice: diet coke

no pressure tags: @judgeyswife , @uzielinterlude , and @maudesgf :)

Getting to know your mutuals

Tagged by @poisonplaces (thank you!!!)

Favorite color: purple, and if I have to pair it, it's with aquamarine, I think that looks pretty af

Last song I listened to: The Sharpest Lives by My Chemical Romance, which I think is probably my favorite song by them. I need to be in a specific mood to listen to mcr, and today I was in that mood.

Currently reading: shamefully, nothing. Work has been kicking my butt nonstop and I have focused more on writing than reading. I should be able to pick up a book soon, and my current plan is to read Geneva by Richard Armitage. I need a good thriller/crime book, I haven't read one in too long. Alternatively, I might go with a classic Agatha Christie book, because you can never go wrong with Monsieur Poirot.

Currently watching: Well, since the people over at Project Fear are super busy and not publishing a lot because they are still editing the videos, I'm catching up on their old show Destination Fear. I know ghost hunting shows get a lot of bad rep (mostly and rightfully due to Zak Bagans), but these four weirdos are fun to watch, the show is edited well, and the background history of the places they visit is super fascinating to me, I love abandoned places.

Currently craving: butter popcorn and an ice-cold glass of ice tea.

Tea or Coffee: Tea, all the way, always. I drink mugs of tea, not cups lol and multiple of them every day. I don't like coffee, but when I'm particularly tired I drink it for the caffeine boost. However, the way I drink my coffee is not exactly healthy nor Italian lol I put two espressos in a mug, then milk, almond syrup and ice. By the end, you can't even taste the coffee anymore lol

No pressure tagging: @glxybld-mustdie @chemicalarospec @jonniethedogdude and anyone who wants to do it, really

#tag game #mutuals #about me #quinn's rambles

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cowboylikefried · 11 days ago

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let me.............refrain from saying the things im about to say.........

challengers ⚾︎ m. fried + c. rodón

you're a prodigy to max and carlos. i'm insane. this is insane. enjoy! doesn't follow challengers exactly but def takes some elements from it

You're a prodigy by every definition of the word.

In your MLB debut, you pitch a no-hitter. It immediately cements you as one of, if not the best starters in the Yankee lineup.

Your no-hitter was followed by many more successful starts that only lowered your ERA and boosted your win loss. You were a staple in the starting rotation that the team needed, coming off of a tough series against San Diego before heading to Miami.

Not that anybody says it out loud, but you're all very confident about this series.

Miami is hot in the same way it is sticky. Your hair is constantly off of your neck, and you opt for skirts and sundresses instead of pants like the rest of the guys, especially when you all go out for drinks after game two.

It isn't lost on you how Max and Carlos watch you smooth out your dress or drag the strap back up your shoulder. You're tipsy in a good way, swapping your fruity drink for something stronger when it nears midnight.

You spare a glance at Max when you're feeling brave. He's talking animatedly with Will about something, and you almost laugh when you see him twirling a baseball between his long fingers. He catches you looking, and you avert your gaze.

Carlos is in a similar state as Max. His cheeks are flushed with a sweet pink, his smile bright as Austin says something to him. You wonder what you look like to them.

The night wraps up slowly after that, and you all walk back to the hotel together. You're lucky enough that there's really nobody out and about. The sight of most of the New York Yankees drunk and stumbling around with each other at 1 in the morning probably wouldn't bode well for the PR team.

The other guys are on the first floor, but you, Max, and Carlos are on the fourth. You stand in the middle of the elevator, letting them file in on either side of you. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to outwardly show how pleased you are.

"Good outing tonight," you murmur, sparing Carlos a glance over your shoulder. He hums, bringing his arm up to scratch at the back of his neck. His bicep is huge, and you have to focus your gaze back at the doors as the elevator lurches to a stop.

You exit first, letting them follow you. There's an obvious tension as you stop in front of Max's hotel room. You and Carlos both watch as Max slides the key card into the door, nudging it open with his shoulder. He looks between you and Carlos, raising his brows.

"Wanna come in?"

You do.

The three of you are spread out across Max's spacious room. Carlos is sitting in the desk chair, thighs bulging against his shorts as you try to keep your eyes up towards his face. You're laying on your stomach on Max's bed, and Max is crouched in front of the mini fridge, grabbing another beer.

"Is this what you do when you're not starting?" you ask, voice teasing. Max rolls his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed, thigh near your face.

"Get drunk like a high schooler with my other starters? No," he responds, cracking open the beer as Carlos huffs. You watch Max's throat bob as he swallows, and you look back at Carlos.

He's already looking at you. You wish your drinks from earlier hadn't already faded- you'd like to cross the room and sit in his lap, just to see what he'd do.

"How often does this happen?" you ask, voice firm despite the strange anxiety that bubbles in your chest. "You guys going after the same rookie?"

The silence that envelops the room then is deafening. Max is tensed at your side, and Carlos is sitting up straighter in his chair.

"Not as often as you'd think," Max says, prompting you to huff a laugh. You sit up, letting your dress ride up your legs a bit as you move to sit next to Max.

"So I should be flattered?" you ask, pushing your hair off of your shoulders. Your dress strap is sliding down your shoulder again, but Max fixes it this time, hand searing against your skin.

"Aren't you everyone's type?" Carlos asks, prompting you to look over to him once again. He seems fine watching the two of you for now, but you want him to join you on the bed.

You pause, tucking some hair behind your ear. "You two aren't...?"

Silence drapes over the conversation again, and then Carlos hums. "Oh. No, not like that."

You don't miss the expression that clouds Max's face. You'd heard whispers from Austin that certain starters were closer than others, but you didn't question it. You didn't think it was your place yet.

"Right," you nod, unsure of how to proceed from here. Max is warm at your side, and there's a pull in your stomach towards him. You gently take Max's beer can from his hands, taking a swig.

You nearly spit out your sip when Carlos stands up, his height even more intimidating when you're sitting. You swallow when he approaches you and Max, just watching.

You and Max shift wordlessly so he can sit to your right, and he does, forcing you to look at your lap so you don't implode with the intensity of them basically caging you in.

Your mouth goes dry when Carlos reaches out to grab at your face. He's not rough, but he's not gentle either, and you let him tilt your head up. Your fingers are digging into your thighs, and you inhale deeply when you feel Max hook his chin over your shoulder.

"Carlos?" your murmur, gaze drifting down to his lips. It's all he needs to lean forward and kiss you.

Carlos kisses like he pitches. It's hard and fast, and you feel yourself getting dizzy trying to keep up. You grab at his shoulders, letting yourself melt back against Max, who you can feel getting restless behind you.

You break the kiss only to turn your head and immediately kiss Max. He's gentle, more sweet. He rests his big hands on your thighs, and you almost lean your weight fully against him.

Carlos' hand is big and commanding where it winds around your side to grab at your stomach. You pull away from Max, feeling lightheaded with the feeling of both of them molding themselves against you. You grin despite your nervousness, bringing your hands up to lead both of them into you.

It's awkward and slightly stilted. Your lips don't connect with both of theirs, but there's still something electrifying about having both of them like this. An idea strikes you when Max tilts away from you, and you lean back.

You prop yourself up on your elbows as they kiss. It's messier than it was with you, the two of them completely focused on each other, and only each other.

It's only when you giggle that they realize you're not in the mix anymore. They break apart, and you grin at the pretty flush on each of their cheeks.

"It's late," you murmur, hiding the amusement in your voice. "I should get back to my room."

You get up from the bed, letting your dress fix itself and tumble back down your legs. You reach for your purse that you'd abandoned when you came in, sliding it over your shoulder.

"What about..." Max trails off, gesturing between him and Carlos. You shrug, then shake your head, like you've made your mind up about something.

"I'm not a homewrecker," you say, taking in a breath. "You don't need a rookie fucking up the team chemistry."

"You're not-" Max begins, only to be interrupted by you again.

"Goodnight, Max," you say, fighting a smile. "Night, 'Los."

They watch you go, both of them cemented to their places on the bed and wishing they'd asked you to stay.

"I'm just saying-"

"Dude," Carlos groans, giving Max an exasperated expression as they toss a ball back and forth.

"If you fucked," Max continues, tossing the ball at Carlos, "throw a changeup on a full count."

"Are you serious?" Carlos retorts, tucking his glove under his arm as he looks at Max, "Why do you even want me to be in a full count situation?"

"Are you gonna tell me if you fucked?"

Carlos hesitates.

You'd asked Carlos back to your hotel room a couple nights ago with a sweet smile and another sundress. It was hard to say no to you, especially when you'd placed your hand on his chest and promised something so explicit that it was still making him blush days later.

"Exactly," Max nods at Carlos' silence, "so throw the changeup."

Later that night, Carlos is at a 3-2 count. Wells calls a slider, and Carlos shakes his head.

He throws the changeup. Max beams from inside the dugout.

You're not at risk of any injuries, most people thought.

You're freshly 21, the youngest Yankee addition thus far. So it's puzzling to you, Wells, and the rest of the team during a mound visit that you're feeling knee pain.

"Is it hurting bad?" Blake asks, and you hesitate.

You'd felt a pop in your right knee when you were stretching. It hadn't been of any concern to you until you got to the fifth, and it felt like your skin was on fire.

"No," you respond, wondering if anybody can see the lie written across your face. "My velo's shit, though."

"I think you'll be fine," Austin interjects, and your fears are dampened slightly by your teammates nodding along with him. Jazz assures you that you're still throwing well, and you give him a weary smile.

Something is telling you to leave the field as you all break up. You don't listen, and accept the ball from Austin as the next batter comes into the box.

You throw a sinker that he makes contact with, sending it up into the air and just to the right of the mound. You take off running to catch it, and that's when you feel it.

You land on your right knee and feel like your entire leg has been lit on fire. You crumble to the ground with a scream of agony, grabbing at your knee as you try to come to terms with what's just happened.

You're crying, someone is at your side, and everything is burning. You wish you'd let Blake take you out, that your ego hadn't gotten the best of you.

You want to ask the EMT who's grimacing at your exploded knee if it's season-ending or career-ending. You want to do anything other than cry and beg for someone to tell you that this isn't real.

Max is holding your hand, you realize, when you're put on the gurney. His skin is white with the pressure of your grip, but before you can apologize, he just shakes his head and squeezes back.

The clapping of the crowd is a sick, taunting noise when the ambulance doors close in front of you, blocking your devastated team from watching you leave.

robin's notes: do i write a follow up......... i have lots of ideas but idk if i wanna make the injury career-ending........ lmk! taglist: @benarroz @maudesgf @chuppachuus @dearveras

#clawed into the wood of my desk #ha #gay!!#new york yankees #max fried #carlos rodón #max fried fanfiction #carlos rodon imagine #max fried x reader #carlos rodon x reader #quinny's fic recs!!!#god god god god god

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