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stonedstr8 · 2 months ago

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TOKE 'N STROKE

"Ads are getting so damn invasive." Lucas thought to himself, clicking skip on yet another pointless car commercial interrupting the video essay he was watching. "You think the algorithm would know its audience by now, I'm too gay to drive!"

He laughed a little bit at the joke, running a hand through his soft, bleached blonde hair. He was the epitome of a high-maintenance twink, with his smooth, hairless body and perfect sense of style. He was smart too and liked to boast about it, with a scholarship for his English Lit degree and being made President of his university's LGBT Chapter, which he was hoping to use as a stepping stone to become Student Body President next year.

Leaning back again in his chair he reached for his cellphone, seeing a text from his boyfriend Alex.

Alex: "Hey cutie, still busy with finals this weekend, but have time for a dinner date Sunday night?"

He smiled to himself, giving an eager text back to set it up, and to wish him well on his upcoming exams. "Ugh, I need to start studying too, Monday's going to be one hell of a final... I'll focus on it and head to the library after this video and-"

Just like that, his train of thought was interrupted again by a stupid ad, this time some obnoxious psychedelic visuals and a bad electric guitar riff blared out of his monitor. It startled him so badly that he seized up for a second, accidentally clicking the ad and being brought to their store page. "Broski's Bud's, one stop ship and shop for weed strains to fix your brain..." He rolled his eyes at the cringe marketing, getting ready to close the tab when a pop-up opened trying to tell him all about a deal he 'wouldn't want to miss out on'. "No thanks, stupid site, you can keep your Bro Buds or whatever to yourself." but every time he hit X on the popup another would open, being more and more insistent each time about new deals, until finally a desperate '90% OFF AND SPECIAL STARTER KIT AS A BONUS WITH YOUR FIRST PURCHASE' filled his screen. "FINE," he scoffed at his computer, "I'll take a look at the stupid site. My therapist suggested I try out weed to help lessen my anxiety anyways, so might as well get a good deal on it..."

Clicking the pop-up added the 'starter kit' to his cart, it was a pack of pre-rolled blunts and some sort of mystery box, but the description didn't help him understand it much either. "Get ready to step into the zone and open ur mind with this one bros, Broski's Buds bestselling strain, Toke 'n Stroke, is sure to change your life by stimulating a high never felt before! This isn't your sissy uncle's strain, this shit puts hair on your chest like a real man!"

"God this is so cringe, I bet they get all kinds of business marketing to the dumb jocks in town, no wonder their brains are mush. Still, it's just weed and for $20 I might as well give it a try, I probably won't find it cheaper anywhere else..." sitting in thought about it for a few seconds, Lucas finally filled in his payment info and placed his order, getting a free upgrade to same-day delivery since they seem to have a storefront a few miles from his apartment.

"Well, there goes my library plans I guess, I'll have to wait around for delivery since my package will probably get swiped otherwise..." Lucas sighed, turning off his computer and plopping down onto the couch, picking up his Switch to play Animal Crossing and kill time.

A few hours passed and the sky got dark before finally a long buzz came from his intercom. "Took them long enough, it's nearly 9pm!" he complained, putting his jacket on to head downstairs. When he got down there the delivery guy had already gotten into his car again, driving away and leaving Lucas to carry the package back upstairs all on his own. It was bigger than he expected, taking both hands to lift it and keep it stable. "Jesus, this thing must weight like 40 pounds! What did they put in here?"

After a bit of struggling and the occasional break to catch his breath, Lucas pushed his package into the living room, collapsing on the floor next to it for a while. "After that workout I'm surprised I don't look like the douchebags around campus." he laughed to himself, bouncing up to get a box cutter and pry his package open. After taking the carton of pre-rolled blunts out, he started into the box with a bit of confusion and disgust, pulling things out one after the other.

"A sleeveless tank top that says 'Toke 'n Stroke Bro'... A pair of douchey sunglasses... Some red gym shorts, socks and slides... Ew, a snapback saying 'Who ate all the pussy?', why the fuck would anyone wear this!... And 2 dumbbells, no wonder this thing was so heavy! All of this is useless shit that's gonna end up in a donation bin now, I'll have to drop this trashy stuff off tomorrow on my way to the library... But hey, at least the weed seems fine, smells... potent." He said, tossing everything back into the box and taking a whiff of one of the blunts.

Kicking back on the couch again, he played with the blunt in his hand for a while before finally having the courage to light it up, taking a hit. Immediately he started coughing, not used to the sensation, but it did make his brain start to feel... fuzzy. "Damn, okay I need to push past it and get used to it." he said, lighting up for another hit of the blunt, this time barely a cough escaping his throat, feeling suspiciously more used to it. Then another, and another, until finally the whole blunt was gone. Sitting in his daze for a while, he enjoyed the sensation of his mind drifting around experiencing the high, his anxiety melting away as if he didn't have a care in the world. Eventually he decided to try and get up, but his body slumped over off the couch and hitting the floor, the room fading to black...

...

When Lucas finally came to again, the first thing that hit him was the strong smell of weed floating around in the air. "Damn bro, did I smoke the whole set or what..." he laughed groggily, getting ready to stretch out and get back to laying on the couch before he was startled by the sound of moaning blasting from his TV, eyes shooting open in confusion. On the screen, two busty lesbians were making out, them taking turns groping each others boobs and fingering each other. "What the fuck bro, how long has this been on?" he cursed, nervous that the neighbors nextdoor might have heard it playing as he started desperately looking for the remote.

When he couldn't find it in the cushions, he got up from the couch only to be met with his feet kicking a bunch of empty beer cans. "Dude, there's gotta be 2 dozen thrown all over the floor, did I have a party or something? I don't even know anyone who drinks beer..." he mumbled, going to scratch his head in confusion, but was even more confused when instead of his hair he felt a hat on top of his head. "Huh?" he thought, as he looked down at the floor again, noticing that instead of his skinny jeans and converse he was now wearing the socks and slides from the box, along with the sleeveless tank top and the shorts too. He stumbled his way to the bathroom door still baked out of his mind, mouth dropping open at his reflection in the full-length mirror in front of him.

"Broooo, am I dreaming or what the fuckkkk is going on" he said in disbelief. No more was the cute, pale twink he used to be staring back at him. Instead, a douchey bro he didn't recognize was standing face to face with him. Tanned skin, pillowy muscles, his once blonde hair turned into a brown buzz cut and with that stupid "Who ate all the pussy?" hat slapped over it. He touched his face, feeling along his chin where his once smooth skin now had a rougher texture, and a trashy chinstrap sprouted from his jawline. He slapped his face a few times in his daze, trying to wake up from the dream and growing more confused each time nothing changed.

Turning around and staggering back to his living room to try and make sense of what's going on, it hit him that he barely recognizes the room anymore. His apartment used to be perfectly maintained and well-decorated, now there was beer cans all over the floor, along with dirty socks and cummed-in underwear, greasy pizza boxes and chip bags all over the table and counter, the decorations on his walls had been torn down and replaced with posters of chicks in bikinis and sports teams, his Switch replaced with an X-Box and a stack of COD games next to it, DVD cases of trashy bro-comedies were thrown around near the TV too... Then the smell hit him, it STUNK in here, like a sickening mixture of weed, cheap body spray, and sour BO wafting in a heat around the room. "Bro, it fucking reeks in here... Or wait..." he mumbled as he gave himself a whiff, "I fucking reek!"

After a bit of stunned silence he finally started to process things in his brain again. How the fuck did he get like this, was any of this even real, and how does he get back to normal? He plopped back onto the couch, picking up his phone to see he had a handful of missed texts and calls from his boyfriend before noticing the time... 2:00pm. On Sunday. He had somehow been blacked out for 2 whole nights, with no memory of anything that had happened. While getting ready to call his boyfriend back, Lucas felt his insides rumbling and at first he thought it was from the munchies because of all the weed, but then he realized "Oh bro, all that double-cheese pizza is really gonna fucking..."

*PHRRRBBBTTT!*

His body instinctively lifted its leg as it pushed out the loudest and most obnoxious fart he'd ever ripped in his life, as his body seemed to react on its own, letting out an immature laugh and wafting the air before muttering "Fuck yeah bro, smells like victory!" He leaned back into the couch, remembering he needed to call Alex, but the loud moaning on the TV caught him off guard again. This time he locked eyes with the screen, the cock in his shorts immediately bulging and straining at the sight of the lesbian porn before him. "I really need to turn this shit off and get whatever's going on sorted out..." he thought, but he realized he couldn't move his hand to reach for his phone, instead it reacted on its own, reaching down his waistband to pull out his cock and start stroking for the busty babes on TV.

"All I do is Toke 'n Stroke, bro..." a voice in his head seemed to say, except it didn't come from within, he spoke it directly out of his own mouth.

"Wait, I didn't say that bro, it's-" he tried to talk, realizing that his thoughts echoed around stuck in his own head, not even leaving the lips of his own body. He was just stuck there, watching in a dazed horror as he went on autopilot.

"Toke 'n Stroke bro, I'm such a loyal customer Broski's Buds will HAVE to take me as a hype boy this time haha!" his voice spoke again, continuing to stroke for the porn on TV, Lucas's eyes stuck fixed on the screen. Suddenly though, he was interrupted by his phone vibrating, a text from his boyfriend coming through.

Alex: "Hey cutie, I hope everything is alright? You haven't answered my calls or texts in a couple days, I know it's busy with all your studying but we do still have dinner planned for tonight. Still on for me to pick you up at 5?"

"Oh thank God," Lucas thought, reading the message, "I can tell him what's going on and have him come over to help me fix this shit!" Unlocking his phone, Lucas let out a sigh of relief as he got ready to reply, only for his body to still be taken over by whatever douchey daze it was stuck in.

Lucas: "dont u ever come around me u faggy creep, if me or my bros ever catch u within 100 feet of us we'll give u the beating of a lifetime! fuck around n find out if u dare to show ur face here."

Lucas screamed internally as the message was typed out and sent in front of his very eyes, before his hand moved to block his boyfriend's number and turn his phone off. "Something is seriously fucking wrong with me bro, I need to-"

*PHHRRRRBBBTTTTTT*

Another obnoxious and sickening fart blasted out of his ass, filling the room and breaking Lucas's thoughts down into a daze again, as he felt around under the couch for something before pulling a sweaty, well-used fuck toy of a girls ass and pussy up from the mess.

As Lucas once again locked eyes with the TV, he took another hit from his dwindling blunt stash, finishing up the last one. After throwing what was left onto the floor, he prepared the fuck toy and slid it right down onto his cock, starting to bounce the toy up and down as he edged himself closer to finishing.

"If I can't figure out a way to snap out of this, I'm so fucked..." he thought, as his voice spoke again. "Toke 'n Stroke bro, this chick is soooo getting fucked!" He moaned, as he shot his thick load into the toy, feeling some of his braincells permanently shoot out with it, sloppily wiping the mess on the cushion next to him as he laid back, feeling his insides start to bubble again.

Lucas had a lot of Bro Time to catch up on, but luckily his new favorite weed strain was making sure that he was a captive audience until he was fully converted and assimilated into just another Bro.

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pinkie-quinns · 18 days ago

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rocker eddie/actor steve | exes to lovers | fame au p6 (final part)

p1 p2 p3 p4 p5 interlude

Steve thinks about second chances, as he walks along Greenwich Ave. He thinks about them when he tosses the wig in a garbage can that reeks of puke.

And he thinks about them, when Eddie opens the door, eyes catching on the rip in Steve’s jeans, the liner under his eyes. When he lights up & says, “You came.”

Yeah, Steve thinks about second chances.

He offers Eddie a small smile as he walks in, can’t bring himself to acknowledge it all. The world of them. Him going. Eddie playing that song. What that could mean, like, actually mean. Can’t do it yet.

He likes this place better than the mansion in LA. It’s messy and grungy with stupid, corny shit plastered on the walls. Feels more… Eddie.

They walk out to the balcony. It overlooks a tiny little green space, his neighbors’ homes. Eddie lights a cigarette and offers one to Steve. Steve quit years ago. Eddie knows that now. He takes it anyway.

“Last tour I sold out Madison Square Garden and now I sell out Forest Hills.” Eddie’s chuckling, “Like I’m back at the trailer park.”

Eddie’s third album didn’t do the numbers his first two had. So they’d downsized, just a little.

Steve sighs, he didn’t fly all the way out here to coddle his ex, “It was a good show, Eddie.”

“Yeah.” He drags, smiles to himself. “It was a really good show. I’m really glad you saw it, baby.”

Steve cringes, full body shiver. Eddie doesn’t seem to realize what he said, Steve’s sure as hell not gonna clue him in.

“How’d your meeting go?”

Steve tries to play it off. “Good. Pretty good.”

Eddie chuckles again, leans into him that way he always does, like personal space is more of a suggestion than a boundary. A hand brushes his cheek, a light, teasing tap of knuckles, “What’s pretty good, Harrington?”

Steve smiles into it. Can’t help it. “There’s uh… you know that blacklist script I mentioned last month? There’s probably a lead there for me.”

Eddie lights up again, bright and true, “Steve, that’s amazing.”

Steve snorts, “Not jealous?”

“Nah, I’m happy for you ba-” Eddie catches it this time, chokes on his drag, coughs and flounders, “Happy for you, man.”

Steve’s not sure if he can do this, actually. Can’t face this Eddie. The one whose ego isn’t a storm cloud, who’s okay failing, who’s okay seeing him succeed. Who’s honest and sincere and wants the best for him. Eddie who would lose thousands of fans just to sing Steve’s favorite song.

Eddie’s eyes are shiny, “But you’ve been good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Good. Keeping busy. I filmed an Amex commercial. Good money. Made my agents happy.” He’s rambling around it. He squints into the dark, drops it casually as he can muster. “I’m gonna start seeing that country singer, probably. The one with that Kansas song? Our people are setting something up.”

Eddie’s face falls, the sun out with a sentence. “What are we doing here, Harrington?”

Steve’s tone is bleary, sheepish, “What?”

“Been losing my mind this last month. Can’t stand not having you around. But you- you’re dating?”

It’s a shrug, it’s all he's got, “Sure.”

Eddie’s hunched, shoulders tight. He talks small. “You told me you loved me. Before you left.”

Steve huffs a breath. The air is cold. “C’mon. You were like, obliterating my brain with your dick. I say impulsive shit like that all the time.”

He doesn’t. They both know that.

Eddie clicks his teeth, shakes a whisper. “Nah. You don’t.”

Steve falters, trips on his tongue. He finds his voice low and hoarse, he can barely say it, “Please don’t hold me to it.”

Eddie won’t look him in the eye. He blinks up at the sky, “I love you. For the record. I um, I never stopped. Guess I’ve been pretty obvious about it.”

“Eddie, c’mon. Don’t do this. It’s not fair.”

“Date Dorothy.” His laugh is glacial. “I don’t mind. It won’t be real, right? Those things never fucking are.”

“I don’t know– it could be.” The ground’s falling under Steve’s feet. “Down the line, or whatever.”

Something cracks, crumples. “I had you. God fucking damnit. I had you and I–”

Steve’s not expecting the sobs until they happen. Flemmed and shaky and pathetic. Those brown eyes silver-wet like moons.

Eddie pushes his palms into his cheeks. “Sometimes, after you leave, I just stare up at the ceiling and try to invent like, time travel or something. Just to go back and slap the shit outta myself. I was a goddamn coward. Couldn’t face it. Could talk around it, sure. Write it into my songs like that was honest. But, nah, I couldn’t look in the mirror. Definitely couldn’t look at you. I’m facing it now. I need you to know that. It won’t fix all shit I did, won’t fix the stupid fucking way I tried to fix it the first time. It’s there, it’s out, hell, it’s goddamn double platinum.” He sputters it out miserable, “But I am trying. Even if this– if we can’t. Need you to know I’m facing it now. I want to be better.”

Then Eddie looks right at him, looks at Steve like looking is enough to break his heart. “And I don’t wanna be selfish anymore cause it’s poison, Steve. But fuck. I know I don’t deserve it but if you’ll have me, I’ll– I’m there. Whatever way you’ll take me.”

“Eddie.” Steve doesn’t know why he’s here. Why he keeps digging this wound, ripping out stitches.

“Please? Can’t walk away again. Don’t have it in me.”

“Yeah.” Steve laughs. “You only do that when it’s easy.”

Eddie flinches. Shoves a ringed hand into a pocket. “Too late, huh?”

Steve scratches the back of his head and turns on his heel, “We can’t keep doing this.”

He gets as far the kitchen. Eddie quicksteps in front of the counter, blocks his out. But he’s cowering, ducking his head. “Did you um, like the song?”

It swells up all at once, that bone-deep cruelty of it. A gust turned tsunami. “Not really, Ed. Kinda broke my fucking heart.”

“Shit,” Eddie clicks. “Yeah, I, um, I’m not all that good at the grand gesture thing. Probably should have figured that out by now.”

Steve lets it all in. The red that’s been thrumming through his body since this whole thing started. Lets it possess him. He pushes into Eddie’s space, callous and cruel. “You’re really fucking me up, here. Do you know that?”

“I– I’m not trying to.” Eddie blinks. Frustratingly earnest.

“What we’re doing– Whatever this is. It makes me feel pathetic. I’d be the dumbest asshole on the planet if I took you back.” He’s screaming now. The balcony door is still open. He doesn’t care if anyone hears. He wants them to hear.

Eddie’s lip is shaking. “I’m sorry.”

“I hate you.” Steve murmurs. The red’s coming off in whisps, quicker than it ever had, easier than it should.

Eddie’s smile is weak. His face is wet. “I know.”

“You ruined me.” He leans in, finds half a punch in it. Last one he’s got.

Eddie closes his eyes, brow furrowed. “I know.”

“I don’t want anyone else.” He’s tired. Bone tired. Tired of the ache that only ever seems to go away around, well–

Eddie’s guilt is plain. It's all of him. “I’m sorry.”

Steve takes a breath. He thinks about second chances.

“You really want to be with me?”

Eddie looks at him like he’s already burrowed in. Ribs and guts and blood. “Got my priorities way out of whack for a minute there. Jesus, way too many minutes there. But yeah. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. You’re it for me, Stevie.”

Steve groans, taps his forehead lightly against a shelf. Eddie’s hand lands steady at his arm, awkward and cautious and right. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“No.” Eddie says soft. “You’re not.”

“Yeah, I am.” Steve shakes his head. Waves a finger into Eddie’s chest. “You sang Dave fucking Matthews.”

“Don’t remind me, man. They’re gonna start shattering my CDs.” He pauses, sincere as ever. ‘I, uh, wouldn’t take it back though.”

Steve groans again, presses his head into Eddie’s shoulder. “No, you don’t get it. You sang Dave Matthews and now I’m gonna have to call my team and tell them it’s not gonna happen with the country singer.”

Eddie blubbers, big Saturday morning cartoon recalibration. “You’re– what?”

Steve shrugs, catches his eye. “Now I’m gonna have to talk about my coming out journey with Angie at People and dude, she’s been on my ass about it for years. Total sore winner.”

He’s shaking his head, “Harrington… Steve. Stevie.”

But Steve keeps rattling on, “I’m gonna have to tip off the paparazzi that Dark Pines star Steve Harrington was spotted sneaking into Eddie Munson’s brownstone at midnight for a secret rendezvous. Gonna have to go for a jog around the block first thing tomorrow, with like, more hickeys than a teen who just got their first girlfriend.”

“You’ve really thought about this, huh?”

Eddie’s back pushes into the edge of the kitchen counter. And Steve thinks about that photo that forced them together again, about Eddie’s easy grin, about the soft adoration high on his cheeks, about never being so young. He thinks about fucking up and growing up and growing apart and changing. And he smiles against chapped lips that taste like cigarettes and coming home.

And he says, “Gonna have to find someone to give me the hickeys.”

And Eddie lights up like the sun, “I know a guy.”

And Steve, well, he thinks about second chances.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fanfic #angst #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie fanfic #twitter threads (but actually this is a tumblr exclusive atm)#fame au

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harmonictechnicality · 2 years ago

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model!steve and voice actor!eddie

part 2 here | ao3 link here

Eddie chose a career in voice acting to avoid shit like this.

Forced socializing. Schmoozing with hotshot directors who are used to everyone kissing their ass until their lips bleed. And Eddie doesn’t do that shit.

… Okay yeah sure, Eddie kisses asses. But only in the literal, consensual kind of way. Usually after a few mediocre dinner dates, at least.

But this particular fuckhole of a director is insisting that Eddie attends the production shoot of the commercial that he’ll be narrating for. Which is weird - that’s not how this process typically goes. Eddie gets the script and records it in his studio. Easy peasy.

“I do things a little differently with my projects.” The director sneers into the phone’s speaker. Eddie silently gags at the oozing amounts of ego on this guy. “I want to immerse you into my vision.”

Ew. Eddie would rather immerse himself into a nap, but whatever. A job is a job.

“Understood.” Eddie agrees with minimal teeth-clenching. “I’ll be on set shortly.”

The phone clicks dead with nothing but a chuckle from the guy. No ‘goodbye,’ no ‘thank you.’ Rude… but that’s kind of an industry standard, so why did Eddie expect anything different?

He folds the script into his back pocket, throws on a shirt that screams ‘Los Angeles disaster gay,’ and makes his way to the studio lot.

Fucking yay.

Upon arrival, the director immediately escorts Eddie into the green room. Rambles on about needing him to meet the lead model for this commercial.

“Isn’t he just posing with the product?” Eddie lets his snarkiness run loose with that question, knows it right away.

Luckily, the guy is too busy snapping at a crew member to notice. “You’ll be voicing his character’s inner narrations.”

“Right.”

“And I want your tone to be seamless with the energy that he’s giving in this shoot. Got it?”

“Loud and clear.” Mostly loud.

The director swings open the door and reveals maybe the most cosmically beautiful person that Eddie has ever seen.

“Eddie, this is Steve.” The director says. “Steve, this is Eddie.”

Models are beautiful people, that’s the goddamn gig. Makeup, no makeup. Photoshop, no photoshop. They just look better than the general population and society accepts that as a fact.

But Eddie is a grubby little voice actor that burrows himself up in his boxy apartment for days. Very little sunlight, very little human interaction, and a shit ton of takeout.

Long story short, he doesn’t get out much. So this? Seeing a biblically hot heartthrob in the flesh? With his own two eyes? It’s knocking him into deep space. Sending him into an astral projection without sticking a tablet on his tongue first.

“Nice to meet you, man.” Steve holds out his hand while someone brushes more powder onto his shiny, glowy skin. God, that’s the best damn skin Eddie has ever seen. Powder be damned, Steve doesn’t need it’s chalky finish.

Eddie shakes himself out of this spell, takes Steve’s hand like he’s somehow worthy of touching him. “Yeah, you too.”

Lame. So lame. On a scale of one to Star Wars prequels, his response is the CGI in Attack of the Clones. ‘Yeah, you too?’ Ugh, what a dumbass.

The director tells them to get acquainted and to be on set in ten minutes. Ten minutes. Eddie has to be convincingly normal for ten whole minutes. Pfft, that’s laughable, but he’ll give it a shot.

“That guy’s a total asshat.” Steve grumbles.

Oh. Eddie could smother him in kisses for saying that. Lick Steve clean of all that stupid powder and probably die of talc poisoning. Death By Licking a Model is one hell of a way to go.

“Yeah.” Find some new words, Munson. “Major asshat. But he happens to be paying my bills this month, so technically, he’s my favorite major asshat.”

“Oh, same.” Steve laughs. It’s fucking glorious too. Eddie kind of wishes he had brought his microphone so that he could capture such a wonderful sound with high quality recording software. Is that creepy? Maybe he should dial it back.

... As if. This guy’s hair is sculpted with effortless perfection and his shoulder blades could slice through a French baguette. No way Eddie can dial it back or keep it together.

“So you’re doing the voice work on the commercial, right?” Steve asks.

‘Yup.” Eddie shoves both hands into his pockets. “Indeed I am.”

Okay, that was borderline Yoda. Get a grip.

Steve seems unfazed though. “That’s cool. Can’t wait to hear what you come up with.”

“Thanks.” Eddie smiles warmly. Nerves mellowing out. “And I can’t wait to see you in action out there.”

“Hope I can give you some good inspiration.” And Steve winks, legit winks at Eddie. Does it like it’s normal too, like he winks at everybody. He probably winks at nuns just to see if he can get them to consider conversion.

Eddie is so hopeless. Fucking tragic at this point.

They walk into the studio and are greeted by a somber, archaic set design. There’s a massive throne in the middle that is draped with fur.

It’s… tacky. That’s the nicest adjective Eddie has to describe it. Tacky bullshit.

“I thought this was for a cologne ad.” Eddie says, eyeing the snowy backdrop.

Steve nods. “It is.”

“So what’s with the secondhand Game of Thrones set?”

“Mr. Asshat thinks this is his cinematic debut.”

Eddie snorts. Loves that he already has inside jokes with this beautiful, beautiful creature. “Someone should tell Mr. Asshat that this is visual plagiarism.”

“Nah.” Steve runs his hand over the tacky fur piece. Smirks to himself as he speaks. “I say we let him suffer.”

Eddie’s legs wobble. “Damn, you’re hot.”

He sounds ridiculously uncool, so breathy and gone. But Steve shrugs in a non-pitying kind of way, so maybe Eddie's uncoolness is excused. Or expected.

While the camera and lighting crew finalize their positions, Steve takes off his robe, revealing his costume.

Torn, muddied pants. Ripped and clawed to shreds. A billowy white top that’s completely unbuttoned. Un-laced? Eddie’s not entirely sure about the mechanics - just knows that Steve’s chest is out, that’s all he can focus on.

There’s a dented crown that the stylist places next to the throne, right at Steve’s feet. It’s shimmery yet tarnished, catches the light in a kaleidoscope effect.

The product is called The Fallen King, so deductive reasoning tells Eddie that Steve is meant to be the physical embodiment of this scent. He recalls something in the script about his title being slandered by promiscuity and forbidden love. Apparently they’ve bottled up that smell into a cologne.

Do people really want to smell like a dethroned monarch? That’s a thing? Huh.

Just to make the sexual torture even more unbearable, Eddie gets to spectate alongside Mr. Asshat himself. Which also means that Eddie almost has a center view of Steve’s performance.

Cause that’s exactly what he’s giving. A performance. A full display production of his body, his face. His whole godlike essence.

It’s unfair how fucked Eddie is from watching Steve pose. He can hold the oddest positions without budging a single tendon. So still. Durable. Strong.

Every last thought in Eddie’s head is impure from that observation. He wants to wrap his fingers around Steve’s muscles until he finally moves, twitches. Eddie wants to watch as Steve’s pretty lips part, falling open with sighs. See how long it takes for those sighs to turn into moans.

Steve slumps back into the throne, legs spread obscenely far apart. His gaze droops low and dark, practically eye-fucking the camera. It’s crazy how jealous Eddie is of that stupid inanimate object. The things he would do to get eye-fucked by that golden sex god up there…

His internal porno gets interrupted by a new pose. A wicked one. Steve is on his knees now, looking up into the camera lens. He sinks into the dreamiest expression. Looks dazed, all spaced-out and helpless. Eddie kneads at the growing heat in his pants with the heel of his palm. Hopes it’s not fucking obvious that he’s so horned up right now.

The director clears his throat and yells over the camera’s constant shuttering. “Can you tilt your head back, Steve?”

And Steve does. So obedient, so exceptional at his job. His head rolls back on his neck, shoulders sagging with the shift of weight.

Eddie is chewing the inside of his cheek, nearly ready to take the horny loss and go jack off in his car. Steve is in the most ideal position now, totally vulnerable. Eddie could fuck him so good like that, let Steve melt into his touch. He’d treat him like treasure, spoil him with dick and praise. Eddie would catch him if his legs give out. Would lick Steve’s kiss-bitten lips until the swelling goes down.

God, Eddie is so sick in the head for conjuring up x-rated scenes like this. In public, surrounded by strangers. Literally on the clock. He seriously needs to get his head checked for having such a whorish imagination.

The shoot ends shortly after that last pose, the one that rocked Eddie’s world. He closes his eyes for a minute, takes a few deep breaths. Tries to inhale some goddamn decency.

“How was it?” Steve heads his way, snaking his arms back into the bathrobe.

Eddie blinks hard. “It was… you were…” And the words stop. Nothing else comes out, his throat is strangled and bare.

Steve gives a soft laugh, nudges Eddie’s arm with his elbow. “Guess you do better when there’s a script in front of you, huh?”

Oh. So he’s pretty and darkly playful? This is too good, too delicious.

Eddie wets his bottom lip, recovers quickly. “I do better when there’s not an earthbound angel in my presence.”

“Wow.” Steve raises both eyebrows. “That’s quite the compliment.”

“Oh come on - you must get compliments all the time.”

“Not like that one though.”

“No?”

Steve takes a step into Eddie’s space. “Definitely not.”

They just stare after that - mostly because it’s Eddie’s turn to speak but words are so secondary when there’s this much beauty to behold. Gazing becomes his top priority.

And before the conversation can lead to an exchange of last names or phone numbers, Steve is rushed off by his agent. Maybe his publicist. Maybe his mom, Eddie has no fucking clue. Just someone taking away his shiny new toy. He sort of feels like reenacting that scene in Cast Away when the volleyball drifts into the ocean. Be dramatic as all hell about this ending.

Eddie doesn’t actually jack off in his car, although he really wants to. No, he decides to use all of his adrenaline and pent-up hormones for the voice recording. It gives his vocals this strained, chesty sound. Sinful and corrupt. Cracking with emotion in certain spots, spiking the volume in all the right ways.

It might be too much, a little bit too suggestive for a lousy cologne advertisement.

But as he listens back, Eddie can’t help but picture Steve. Imagining snapshots of him from every angle, especially the unspeakable ones. The recording barely sounds like a script anymore. It almost sounds like Eddie whispering the lines directly into Steve’s ear. A dirty secret between them.

This is it, he thinks. Sends the audio file to his sound mixer without a second read-through, without a retake. This might be the best voiceover Eddie Munson has ever done.

#steddie #steddie fic #this is inspired by the unhinged ao3 tag generator #so there will be two more parts - fairly short like this one #not sure if I should put this on ao3... we shall see #anyways thanks for listening xx

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corroded-hellfire · 2 years ago

Text

Love Comes Walking In - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie didn’t want to go to prom, until he wanted to go with Chrissy. You wanted to go to prom, but not if Eddie is going to go with Chrissy. But above everything, you want Eddie to be happy.

Note: this whole thing mostly came about because I wanted to write the one scene with Dustin. You’ll know the one.

Words: 6k

Eddie teasing you was nothing new. His lighthearted jabs about your skirt making you look preppy or having sleepy eye boogers first thing in the morning roll off your back, occasionally even making you laugh along. But when he teases you about wanting to go to prom, that gets under your skin.

Wanting one special night to wear a pretty gown with glowing makeup and neatly styled hair didn’t sound stupid to you. To your best friend, it seemed like torture. The whole school year Eddie would rag on you about buying into the whole conformist commercialism that you thought of as a rite of passage. That makes it even worse when he suddenly changes his tune just a week before the dance.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Jeff complains.

Eddie rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Just because I changed my mind doesn’t mean I’m ridiculous,” he argues.

“You changed your mind because of a girl!” Gareth shouts.

Jabbing your green beans with your plastic fork, you stay silent as the boys bicker back and forth. Part of you was also afraid to open your mouth, unsure of what would come out.

“You say that like I’d go to prom with any girl,” Eddie snaps. “I’m not saying I’m going, I’m saying I would go with Chrissy.”

The fork is clutched so hard in your hand that you think it’s going to snap in half.

“What’s wrong with wanting to go with anyone?” Jeff asks.

Eddie waves a dismissive hand at him and wrinkles his face up in distaste, not bothering to give a verbal response.

“Hypocrite,” you mumble under your breath.

“I am not.” Eddie stares at you and your head jerks up in surprise that he heard you.

“Yes, you are,” you say. “You’ve made fun of me all year for wanting to go and now because you have a crush, it’s different? Bullshit.”

“I changed my mind,” Eddie reiterates.

“Fine,” you say with a huff. It’s not worth arguing with him over.

“Maybe you should apologize,” Dustin suggests softly.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Come on, you have been on her ass about it all year,” Dustin says.

“Thanks, Dustin,” you say. “But it’s fine.”

Eddie opens his mouth, but you don’t give him a chance to speak. Chair legs scraping against the floor, you push your seat back and stand up from the table. The guys all watch as you leave, dumping your tray in the trash before stalking out of the cafeteria.

Arguments with Eddie rarely happened. They’re so rare that neither of you know how to react when you next see each other. Are you still fighting? Has it been long enough where you both can pretend like nothing ever happened? There’s no chance to talk to one another in your shared algebra class the next day, so it wasn’t until lunch that you really came face to face. Eddie’s at the table before you, and you plop down in your usual seat next to him.

“We cool?” Eddie asks as you’re in the middle of lifting a forkful of mac and cheese to your open mouth.

“Uh, yeah,” you say, eyeing him over your full fork. “I guess.”

“Good.” He slouches down in his seat, as if he can relax now that he knows you’re on good terms. “Oh shit, here I got you something.” Eddie reaches into his metal lunchbox and pulls out a Three Musketeers bar. “Band kids are selling candy, so I bought your favorite for you. Hide it before Henderson gets here or he’ll steal it.”

“Thanks,” you say with a grin. This was exactly the reason why your feelings for Eddie would never go away. Just when he pisses you off to the point where you swear you’re never going to sit with him at lunch again, he turns around and does something sweet and thoughtful without expecting anything in return.

“Breaking news, losers,” Gareth says as he drops his tray on the table. “I have a prom date.”

“Well shit, I guess hell has frozen over,” Mike says as he and Dustin join the rest of you.

“You’re not a senior,” Jeff points out.

“No, but my date is.” Gareth’s smirk is enough to earn an eye roll from both you and Eddie.

“Who’s that desperate?”

Gareth throws a French fry at you - which you dodge - before he answers.

“Calling Kel desperate?”

“What?” you almost screech. “How are you going with one of the sweetest girls at school?”

“I’m super cool,” he says, making the rest of you bust out in laughter.

“But seriously,” Jeff says.

“You’re all assholes,” Gareth says before digging into his food. “At least I have a date.”

Eddie goes to reply, but you’re afraid of what he’s going to say, so you scoop up your backpack and excuse yourself to the bathroom. Once you step out of the cafeteria, you roll out your neck and shoulders, trying not to think of Eddie back in there talking about prom with the guys. You push the girl’s bathroom door open and breathe a sigh of relief when you’re the only one in there. Dropping your bag on the floor between your feet, you lean forward on one of the sinks and look at yourself in the mirror. A few deep breaths later, you feel your body relax. It’s short lived, however, when the door squeaks open on old hinges and two cheerleaders step in.

You feel bad for the guttural reaction you have to seeing Chrissy’s blonde ponytail swinging behind you in the mirror. She is a complete sweetheart who wouldn’t hurt a fly, but the jealous green-eyed monster rears its ugly head and your fingers dig into the cool porcelain.

“It really sucks,” the other cheerleader says to Chrissy. You know you’ve seen her around, but you don’t know her name. Both cheerleaders park at the sinks next to you to touch up their makeup. Chrissy throws you a bright smile and a friendly wave before taking her lip gloss out and turning back towards her friend.

“I know,” Chrissy says. “I knew we were going to break up, but I was hoping for it to be after prom. How am I supposed to find a new date in a week?”

“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that,” her friend assures her.

“I don’t know,” Chrissy says with a sigh. “Everyone probably has their dates by now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Your pulse is raging in your ears and sweat is starting to make your hands slip against the sink. The internal debate rages inside of you. Do you let your jealousy get in the way of something that will make Eddie happy? It would throw away any shot you had of going to prom with Eddie yourself - but you know that was a long shot anyway.

Still undecided, you take a step back from the sink, and your backpack falls over. You bend down to pick it up and the Three Musketeer bar falls out. It feels like your gaze should melt the chocolate that’s laying before you. Damn Eddie and his thoughtfulness at buying you the stupid candy. You toss it back in your bag, wincing as you prepare self-destruction.

“Hey, Chrissy,” you say.

She turns to you with a smile, putting the top back on her lip gloss.

“Hey! What’s up?”

“I, uh, didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” you say as you slide your backpack on. You can’t manage to look her in the eyes as you speak. “But I know someone who doesn’t have a date yet.”

“You do?” She perks up in interest and the souring of your stomach almost keeps you from going further.

“Yeah.” It sounds painful coming out of your mouth and you hope neither cheerleader notices. “Um, Eddie? Eddie Munson.”

“Really?” her friend asks. She crosses her arms over her chest and juts a hip out. You’re two seconds away from smacking the snotty look off her face when Chrissy speaks up.

“Eddie is great,” Chrissy says, looking over her shoulder at her friend before looking back at you. “Yeah, that sounds nice. Think he’ll say yes if I ask him?”

“I do.” Those two words were almost the hardest to get out. It was killing you how much of an understatement it was.

“Okay!” The eagerness in her voice makes you want to cry. There’s no way you’ll be able to face Eddie back in there.

“You can, um, ask him now if you want,” you say with a shrug. With a deep breath, you head towards the bathroom door. You stop halfway out the door and turn back around. “Oh, if Eddie asks,” you say, doubting he would because he’d be too consumed by the fact that his dreams were coming true, “can you just tell him I wasn’t feeling well and left?”

“No problem.” Her brow furrows in concern and she takes a step towards you. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” It’s the biggest lie you’ve told in a while. “Cramps.” You put your hand to your lower abdomen and Chrissy gives you a sympathetic nod.

“Feel better!”

Without answering her, you walk out of the bathroom and down the hall, to the school exit. As soon as you slide into your car, the tears start. They start pouring so heavily and your hands shake so badly that you can’t put your key in the ignition. Momentarily giving up, you drop the keys in your lap and drop your head down to the steering wheel.

Giving yourself enough time to get the worst of it out, you pull back and use your sleeves to wipe down your face. With a deep breath, you close your eyes and try to center yourself. After a few breaths in and out, in and out, you’re able to get the keys in the ignition on the first try. You pull your car out of the parking lot and head towards your house. The conversation you had with Chrissy keeps going through your head and you can’t keep from picturing the euphoric look that will be on Eddie’s face when she asks him. The saving grace you’re holding on to is the fact that Chrissy immediately defended Eddie to her friend. There aren’t many people in the school who would do that.

Luckily, no one is home when you get to your house and you’re able to go inside and sulk in peace in your bed. More tears leak out as you hug your pillow to your chest. You must end up falling asleep because the persistent ringing of your doorbell jolts you awake sometime later. Heart racing from the adrenaline, you pull yourself out of bed and drag yourself to the front door.

Eddie’s standing on the other side and it’s the first time his smile has ever broken your heart.

“You are the best!” He swoops into your house and wraps you up in his arms. “Oh shit, sorry. I forgot, Chrissy said you’re having some girl pains.”

Right.

“They’re better now that I’ve rested,” you say. “And you don’t have to thank me. Just doing what a good friend would do, right?”

“The best friend in the world!” He takes your head in his hands and presses a loud smacking kiss to your forehead. His happiness is infectious and despite your foul mood, a small smile curls on your mouth.

“Now,” he says, taking both of his hands in yours. “We have to find a date for you.”

“Oh.” Your face drops and you shake your head. “I’m not going to go.”

It hadn’t occurred to you that Eddie would still be thinking about how you wanted to attend prom. The idea of his own perfect date should’ve been occupying his whole brain, but damn Eddie and his thoughtfulness.

“What?” Eddie immediately frowns and it tugs at your heart. It tempts you to tell him you’ll go, but the mental image of Eddie dressed up and dancing with a flawless-as-usual Chrissy makes you bite your tongue.

“You were right before,” you tell him. “It’s dumb and there’s shitty music. Plus, the dresses are way too expensive.” The dress you planned on wearing was already in your closet, but Eddie didn’t need to know that.

“Are you sure?” Eddie dips his head down to meet your eyes. He raises an eyebrow at you questioningly.

“Yeah,” you tell him.

“I’m going to miss you there,” he says, and you almost slip up and laugh out loud at his statement.

“Oh please, you’ll be having way too much fun to notice I’m not there.”

“Like that could happen,” Eddie says with a skeptical look.

You don’t bother arguing with him, even though you know he’s wrong.

On your way to the cafeteria the next day, you can’t bring yourself to walk in. You know if you do then you’re just going to be hearing about plans for prom and you don’t trust yourself not to break down in tears in front of everyone. There was no way you could avoid the guys entirely until prom, but you couldn’t face them today. Eddie doesn’t want to be with you. He wants to be with Chrissy. And you have to make yourself seem okay with that somehow. Just not today.

There’s a vending machine on the way to the gym, so you pick up a bag of crackers and a bottle of coke. The gymnasium is empty, so you take a seat on the bottom row of bleachers and start to eat your sad little lunch. It’s easy to let your mind wander, so you try to redirect it away from where it wants to go. Usual calming fantasies revolve around Eddie in some way, but that’s out of the question right now.

Your mind can’t stray far from Eddie though, so you let your mind divulge in a little dark fantasy as you eat. What would happen if you just ran away? What would happen if you just threw some clothes in a bag and bolted? You would never actually do it, but imagining Eddie being sad over you leaving brings you a sick sort of comfort. Because he would miss you. You know he loves you, it’s just not in the same way that you wish.

As you crumble up your wrapper in your hand, the gym door opens and a familiar hat over tousled curls walks in. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at you, as he walks your way with his hands in his pockets. Sneakers squeak across the shiny floor and come to a sudden halt as he stops in front of you.

Dustin dips his chin down and raises his eyes to look at you. He takes one hand out of his pocket and holds it out to you.

“Yes?” you ask, looking between his eyes and his hand.

“I know what you did for Eddie,” he says. “We all know. Except for him, he’s an idiot. But it really was a nice thing to do. I never could’ve done it.”

“Thanks,” you say skeptically, unsure of where he was going with this.

“He told us you said you don’t want to go to prom. I know that’s bullshit. So,” he says, bringing his hand back and extending it to you again, “I am asking you if I may take you to the prom.”

Your eyes immediately well with tears as you look up at the boy in front of you. Dustin was always one of the sweetest people you knew, but this was taking it to a whole other level.

“Oh, Dustin,” you say. You take his hand and tug his arm until he’s sitting on the bleacher next to you. “That is the sweetest offer I’ve gotten in my entire life. But I can’t go to prom.”

Dustin sighs and nods his head.

“Can’t see them together?” he asks.

“Correct.”

He wraps his arm around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“So, everyone knows, huh?” you ask.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you stare at Eddie a lot.”

The laughter that bubbles out of you is so unexpected that you bring your hand up to cover your mouth.

“I know,” you admit. “I do.”

“And you look at him differently than you look at anyone else,” he says.

“Like he’s an idiot?” you ask and Dustin chuckles.

“No, I think we all look at him that way.”

You sigh and pick your head up from Dustin’s shoulder. You pat his arm and give him a grateful smile.

“Dustin Henderson, you are the best. And if I were going to go to the prom with anybody at all, it would be you.”

“Well, when I go to my senior prom, I hope I go with someone half as awesome as you.”

That makes the tears spill over and you hastily wipe them off your cheeks.

“God, I love you.” You throw your arms around his neck and give him the tightest hug you’ve given anyone in a while. He chuckles as he hugs you back.

“Who doesn’t?”

The night of prom comes, and you stand in your kitchen, alone in the house and in your comfiest sweats, making cookie dough. Screw warnings of not eating raw eggs, you were making this dough to eat, not cook. The last few days at school you went back to eat lunch with the guys but used a fake sore throat as an excuse for staying quiet and distant. You really only needed to fool Eddie though, since the other guys knew what was really going on with you.

You take the bowl of cookie dough into the living room and set it down as you flip through the VHS tapes you’d rented earlier in the day. Steve had known about you not going to prom because, of course he did, Dustin tells him everything. You assured him it wasn’t a big deal, just wanting to get out with your movies.

Settling on The Outsiders because you could stare at Rob Lowe all day, you pop the tape in and settle on the couch with your favorite blankets and your bowl of cookie dough. You can only eat about a quarter of the dough before your stomach has had enough. It sits on the table in front of you as you watch the rest of the movie. It’s not even eleven by the time the movie’s over but you don’t feel up to sitting through another one. You take the bowl of cookie dough back into the kitchen and stick it in the refrigerator. Thoughts of what’s happening at the prom have been trying to jam their way into your brain all night, but without the movie to distract you, those thoughts finally break in. Is there a slow song playing right now? Are Eddie’s hands on her hips or is one wrapped around her back while the other holds her hand? Is he having a good time? Are they playing any music that he likes? What did he end up wearing? You know you’ll end up seeing pictures but you’re not looking forward to seeing how pristine Chrissy is all dolled up when she’s naturally so beautiful on her own. Right now, you can imagine she’s wearing a garbage bag and her hair is all rolled up in curlers and her makeup looks like a clown’s. But once you see pictures, that illusion you’ve clung to will burst like a bubble in your heart.

You press the heels of your palms to your eyes to try and stop the impending tears from falling. A few deep breaths and you get it under control. This heartbreak shit sucks.

Before heading up to your room, you grab a water bottle from the fridge and your blanket off the couch. On your nightstand is a small radio and you click it on so you won’t be alone in silence with just your thoughts for company. The sheets feel cold and crisp as you slide into them. Putting your blanket back on top of you, you curl up on your side and nuzzle your face into your pillow. The light’s still on in your room, but you didn’t feel like getting up to turn it off.

The dial on your radio must’ve gotten knocked at some point - which happened often as you fumbled with things on your nightstand constantly - because smooth jazz starts playing and you huff a laugh into your pillow. You weren’t moving to fix that, either. When your parents come home, if you’ve already fallen asleep, your mom will turn both the radio and light off for you.

But the jazz is actually more soothing the longer it plays. It calms your frayed nerves and helps you start to doze off, body finally giving in to the exhaustion you’ve been feeling from all the stress lately.

In your half-asleep state, you hear your parents come home. They’re not exactly quiet walking around downstairs, but they also probably didn’t expect you to be sleeping this early. The thudding of your mom’s heels coming up the stairs echoes in the quiet hallway, drifting into you even over the radio. The footsteps keep coming towards your room and you’re looking forward to the sweet darkness you’ve craved when your mom gets to your room. But the lights don’t turn off. Instead, the bed dips next to you and you feel someone lay down beside you.

She means well, you know, because she knew that you were bummed to miss prom, even if she didn’t know why. But the last thing you wanted right now was to have her try and talk to you about how you’re feeling. You know you’ll lose it and end up crying yet again. She stays quiet beside you though and you’re thankful for it.

“I know you’re not asleep.”

The deep voice startles you and your eyes snap open. Eddie’s laying down on his side, facing you, head propped up on his arm. He’s smiling at you. It’s the first thing you notice before your eyes travel down, taking in the suit he’s wearing. Partially a suit, anyway. He’s wearing nice black slacks, which you didn’t even know he owned, with a maroon button up shirt. No jacket, but you’re not sure if he had one on earlier or not. He’s still your Eddie though, because he has his pick necklace on and his many rings adorning his fingers.

“Look at you.” Your voice sounds a bit froggy between almost being asleep and all the crying you’ve done. “Not a stitch of denim in sight.”

Eddie chuckles. It sounds so nice. He leans over and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask.

“Came by to see my best girl,” he says. Maybe he still says it out of habit, but you’re pretty sure you’ll be losing that title shortly.

“But prom,” you say, whinier than you intended to.

“It’s over,” he says.

You frown and crane your neck to see the clock on your dresser. The neon green tells you that it’s just after one in the morning. You must’ve dozed longer than you thought.

“How was it?” you ask, bracing yourself for the answer.

“Pretty much how I expected it to be.”

“Oh yeah?” The fake smile on your face is starting to feel second nature, and you hate it. “Everything you’d hoped?”

“No,” he says with a laugh. He shakes his head and twirls the ring on one of his middle fingers with his thumb. “I was right the first time. Shitty music. Horrible punch - which Principal Higgins was guarding like he was trying to keep the Huns from invading China. People at our school can’t dance for shit, myself included. And to top it all off, my favorite person wasn’t there.”

Your brow scrunches together and you sit up in bed.

“She stood you up?”

“What?” Eddie asks. When he realizes what you mean, he closes his eyes and smiles. “No, you dork. I meant you. You weren’t there.”

“Me?” you ask. The skepticism in your voice cuts right to Eddie’s heart. He frowns and scoots forward on the bed so he can rest his hand on your hip.

“Yes, you. You’re doubting that you’re my favorite person?”

“Well, kind of,” you say quietly.

“Why?” he asks, and his frown makes your heart plummet into your stomach.

“It’s just, you were so excited to go with Chrissy.”

“I was,” he admits. “But just because I had a crush on a girl doesn’t mean that you’re not still my number one.”

Had. The one word sticks in your mind and you know there are other things you should say, better things, but the question is burning your tongue so it has to come out.

“Had a crush?” you ask.

Eddie nods and rubs his thumb over your hip bone.

“Turns out a lot of crushes can go away quickly if you actually spend time with the person.”

“Did she say something? Do something?” you ask.

“No,” he says simply. “She’s great. There was just nothing to talk about after the first twenty minutes or so. She knows nothing about my interests, and I know nothing about hers.”

“Just didn’t click?” you ask.

“Yeah, exactly,” he says. He’s silent for a moment, mouth pursed in thought. “This is a horrible analogy, but it’s what came to mind. It’s like when a present is sitting there in front of you, and it’s wrapped beautifully. Ribbons and bows and all that jazz. You just stare at it and want it, imagining what kind of fun thing could be inside. Then, you finally get it, you can hold it in your hands. You open it and it’s a new shirt. It’s nice, but not what you were expecting. You don’t dislike the shirt, it’s just not the present you wanted.”

“Look at you with the metaphors,” you say with a smirk. “Senior English three times and you’re a full-on scholar now.”

He rolls his eyes at you and playfully squeezes the skin at your hip.

“I was being serious,” he says.

“I know. And I get it. You kissed a frog who didn’t turn into a princess.”

“And you thought I had an odd way of putting it,” Eddie says with a laugh. “But I didn’t even kiss her before I knew there was nothing there. Once the excitement wore off it was pretty boring, actually.”

“I’m sorry it wasn’t what you wanted,” you tell him honestly.

“I’ve always known the prom itself would suck. Just thought it might be fun with the right date. And it might’ve been, but I didn’t have that.” He takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes. “I should’ve brought you.”

The tears are coming but you force them to hold their position. It’s hard not to yell at him that that’s what you’ve wanted all along. But there’s no point. Any begging or pleading before the prom wouldn’t have gotten him to agree to take you. So, instead of living in the ‘if you realized this sooner I could have gotten to go to my prom’, you let it go by and just appreciate the fact that he wishes he had gone with you instead of Chrissy.

“But I’ve had an idea,” Eddie says as he pushes himself off your bed.

“And what’s that?”

“Well,” he says as he walks over to your closet. “First things first, I’ve got to see what we’re working with here.”

“Why?” You scoot down to the foot of the bed to see what he’s doing more clearly. He’s going through your clothes, inspecting every piece, and deeming them unfit for whatever scheme he’s cooked up in his brain.

“You’ll see. Wait. Are you kidding me?” He reaches into the back of your closet and pulls out the gold dress that you had bought for prom. “You told me you didn’t get a dress!”

“How do you know I haven’t had that dress for a while?” But your blush won’t let you get away with the lie.

“Well for starters, the tag is still on it.” He brandishes it to you and you huff.

“Okay, yeah, yeah, I had a dress. But I didn’t want to go, and I didn’t think you’d end up riling through my closet anyway.”

“Put it on,” he says, tossing its hanger into your lap.

“I’m sorry, what?” The dress tries to slide from your lap to the floor, so you pull it up and lay it down on the bed next to you.”

“Put it on,” he says slower this time, as if that should clear up everything.

“Why?”

“Because I want to dance with you,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, I’d dance with you in your sweats, but I thought you might want to get all dolled up like me.” He smirks and runs his hands down the buttons of his maroon shirt.

“You want to dance with me?” Maybe you’re still asleep and this is all a dream.

“Yeah.” Again, he says it as if it’s something you do every day. His casual tone is making you think you’re the one who’s not making sense.

“Okay,” you say as you stand. “I guess I’ll go change.”

“This is your room,” Eddie says, heading to the door. “Change here, I’ll wait out here.” He walks into the hallway, closing your bedroom door behind him.

You slip the sweatpants down your legs and tug the sweatshirt off over your head. The single strapless bra you own is at the bottom of the drawer and you have to dig your way down to find it. The gold dress has a halter neckline so there’s no way you could wear a regular bra underneath. You squeeze the bra on, and even change your panties from blue ones with butterflies on it, to one of the few lace ones you own.

The dress unzips easily and glides down your body as you get situated. You can’t zip it yourself, but Eddie can do that for you. Most of the makeup you own is in the bathroom, but you can make do with the little bit sitting over on your dresser. Looking in the mirror, you do a soft layer of makeup and then inspect your hair. It strikes you as funny when you see yourself in a golden dress with makeup on, but total bedhead up on top. You yank the scrunchie out of your hair and shake your head to toss your hair around. It looks better but not great. Your eyes land on a silver hair clip dotted with pearls and you reach up to tuck some of your hair back and secure it with the pin. There. The look is done.

When you open your bedroom door you expect Eddie to be waiting there but you don’t see him. You stick your head into the hall and look both ways but see no metal head.

“Eddie?” you call.

“Coming!”

He jogs out of your dad’s office a few doors down, carrying a few sheets of paper. Eddie comes to a halt as he takes in your appearance. Heat blooms in your face as you watch Eddie scan every last detail of this ensemble.

“You look gorgeous,” he says. It’s enough to make you pass out, but you somehow stay standing firm.

“Thank you,” you say. “You look very handsome. Did I tell you that when you first got here?”

“No,” he says with a chuckle. “Just a remark about me not wearing any denim.”

“Which is truly a miracle. But you do look handsome. Very handsome.”

He smiles and takes steps towards you, paper still in his hands.

“What’s this?” you ask.

“I’m not very good at origami, but I did my best to turn this sheet of paper into a corsage.”

Your heart leaps at his words and it’s another battle of wills with your tears when Eddie slips his improvised flower on your wrist. Some tears win the battle, and they trail down your face. Luckily, you were smart enough to apply waterproof makeup.

“Eddie, this is…” you trail off, not having the words to express how you’re feeling.

“You wanted prom, so I’m giving you prom.” He takes both of your hands in his and guides you back into your bedroom. He closes the door behind him with his foot, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Can you zip me up?” you ask. He nods and you turn around. His hands against your back sends a shiver up your spine and goosebumps break out over your arms. You hear him chuckle and he trails the tips of his fingers over your shoulders as you turn back around.

“What’s with the smooth jazz?” Eddie can’t help but laugh at the saxophone solo coming in over the speakers.

“I hit the dial again.”

“Well, let’s fix that.” He bends down and turns the dial to find a good station. The static goes in and out, some songs coming through in pieces, or sounding like they’re underwater. It finally lands on a clear station and Eddie grins in triumph. “Perfect. Love Comes Walking In.”

“You know I love Van Halen.”

Eddie stands up straight and takes the few steps over to you. He bows in classic dramatic Eddie fashion, and he comes back up with a frown on his face.

“You’re not wearing heels. Or shoes at all.”

“Eddie, I would’ve kicked them off the moment I got there anyway,” you tell him with a laugh. “Barefoot is fine.”

“Just checking. Want this to be an authentic impromptu prom for you.”

You giggle and Eddie reaches his hand out to you. You take it and he instantly pulls you in and holds you against his body. It would be a miracle if he couldn’t feel or hear your heart beating so fast it’s like someone is dribbling a basketball beneath your ribs. His right hand takes your left and he twines your fingers together. His other hand snakes around your waist until it settles warmly on your back. You place your other hand on his shoulder and smile up at him.

“This is already better than actual prom,” he says. “Good music. Perfect date.”

Red rises to your cheeks and you duck your head shyly.

The pair of you sway to the beat of the song, bodies moving along with the rhythm. Eddie spins you and it makes you let out a giddy peal of laughter. He pulls you back into him and you wrap both arms around his neck. He places his hands firmly on your waist as you start to sway again.

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

“You brought all the best parts of prom to me. I didn’t have to suffer through the shitty parts. I’ve got my dress, my music, my favorite person. It’s perfect, Eddie.”

“I’ll dance like this with you anytime,” he says. “All you have to do is ask.”

The way he’s looking at you stirs some butterflies up that have been dormant until this point. He’s never looked at you this way and you’re not sure what it is. You know every Eddie facial expression and what they mean, but this one is new. His face is soft, and his eyes are wide, as usual. The brown irises are twinkling and there’s the barest smile on the left side of his mouth.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask.

“You,” he says. No further explanation, which leads your mind to grasping for answers as usual.

“What about me?”

“Just…you.”

“Okay, I take back what I said about being a scholar now. You’ve lost the ability to words,” you say and wrinkle up your nose playfully at him. He catches you by surprise, though, when he leans forward and presses a kiss to the very tip of your nose.

The blush you had before was nothing to the one now gracing your features. Eddie chuckles when he sees it and leans forward to rest his forehead against yours.

“Do you want to have another prom tomorrow?” he asks.

“What’s that entail? Dancing with you?”

“Yes.”

“Good music?”

“Of course.”

“Can I wear comfy clothes?”

“I’ll be wearing mine.”

“Hmm,” you hum, pretending to consider it. “Can we get food too?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I like the sound of that,” you say with a smirk.

“Is that a yes?” Eddie asks.

“Eddie, I’d have this kind of prom with you every single day.”

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction

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seokmattchuus · 6 months ago

Text

Breaking Point - Seok Matthew

"You've known each other for so long, aren't you sick of spending so much time together?" Gyuvin raised a brow as you and Matthew entered his frat house together. "I've never seen either of you on your own. Is it like, Stockholm syndrome or something?" His eyes narrowed as he tried to think it through.

"Do you think I want to keep this one around?" Matthew raised his own brow, his index finger moving to point at you. "I tried to get her to date in high school to get her off my back but none of the relationships lasted a month." He scoffed.

You rolled your eyes at the statement.

"Says the one who didn't even date." You scoffed. "Not that you had a choice, anyways."

"It's not my fault I got hot after graduation." He turned to look at you. He was always sensitive about being a late bloomer.

"Oh, you had a minor glow up and now you think you're hot." You turned to him. "You could be in an Airheads commercial with how big your head's gotten."

Gyuvin stared at the both of you, his eyes switching back and forth as you argued.

"Y/n. Matthew." He started. "If either of you need to get laid, that can be arranged."

"Please." Matthew laughed. "She gets attached too easily to have one-night stands."

You let out a scoff of disbelief at his words.

"As if you could please anyone here." You started. "You were a virgin for so long, I would bet money that you don't even know what the clit is."

"You two just got here, god damn." Gyuvin looked between the both of you in disbelief. "Are you best friends or siblings??"

"As if I'd-" You started but Ricky came up.

"I've never seen anyone walk into a party and stay by the door." He laughed. "You two look like you could use a break from each other." He said before handing you a cup and putting a hand on your lower waist.

A move that didn't go unnoticed by Matthew, his eyes locked on Ricky's hand.

And Matthew's move not going unnoticed by Gyuvin.

"He started it!" You whined as you took the cup, letting Ricky lead you through the building. "He's always talking shit."

"Anything piss him off lately?" Ricky said as he led you to a couch.

You rolled your eyes before bringing the cup to your lips, a mix of strawberry rum and sprite greeting your tastebuds.

"You always make my favorite." You smiled at him.

"I heard you come in. I figured you could use it." He laughed.

"But he's had a stick up his ass all week." You sighed. "You know how Hanbin asked Haneul to set us up? Well Matthew was fine with it at first, but after our third unofficial date, he's been trying to get me to ghost him." You rolled your eyes. "You know he even took my phone on 'accident' the other day? He had it for the whole day after our class!" Your voice was getting louder as you felt yourself getting worked up. "It's childish!"

"Sounds like you could use another drink." Ricky laughed as his eyes shifted towards the door. "But I think he has his reasons."

Your eyes followed his to see Matthew arguing with Hanbin before walking away. You'd be lying if you said you didn't notice the girl next to him but it's not like you were dating. The two of you were still talking. And casually meeting up.

Friends with benefits if you will.

"I don't care if he has reasons." You scoffed. "For someone who used to be a little bitch, he's sure gotten obnoxiously ballsy."

"Matthew? A little bitch?" Ricky smirked in amusement. "I don't see it." He shook his head with a laugh, finally bringing his cup to his lips.

"Dude." You shook your head, your eyes widening. "He used to be scared of bugs." You started. "If he even heard someone talking about a horror movie, he had to leave because it was getting to him." You chuckled.

"Oh! And there was one time where we had a field trip in high school," You paused to take another sip of your drink. "Someone he was rooming with snuck in alcohol and you know what that boy did?" You held back a snort. "He was so scared of getting in trouble that he texted his mom." You emphasized the last three words. "She called the teachers and of course, they got in trouble, but who snitches like that?" You narrowed your eyes at the gall past Matthew had.

"When he told me about still getting in trouble, I told him they at least should have drank it." You scoffed before taking another sip. "Like, you did it to not get in trouble and you still did. Might as well have had fun."

Ricky kept his eyes on you, and you weren't sure if he just didn't believe you or if he was thinking back on Matthew's behavior to see if he ever caught him slipping up.

Either way, the anger from before was fading and you were finally starting to enjoy yourself.

You hadn't seen Matthew since Ricky pointed him out and you were starting to forget you even came with him.

Until Ricky led you to the outside table group that Matthew was a part of.

"We're playing 'truth or drink'." Gyuvin gave a boyish smile. He was clearly a few drinks in. "You can sit here by me and Ricky." He motioned his arm to the chairs next to him. "If it's okay with Matt, of course." He smirked towards him as if saying something.

Matthew rolled his eyes for what you would call the billionth time today.

"It's not like he owns me." You mumbled bitterly as you sat next to Gyuvin, Ricky taking the spot next to you and throwing an arm over your shoulder. "Plus, I used to beat him up in high school." You said as you gave Ricky your cup to refill. "He knows better."

"Oh~~" The crowd around you teased and you looked towards Matthew who was less than amused.

As the game went on, there had been a bunch of answers to questions you never wanted to ask. But of course, the questions got better the more you got into it.

"Y/n!" An adorable blonde whose name you couldn't remember. You swore it was something with 'Chae', or maybe 'Na', but your brain was too fuzzy to remember. "You've been talking about how different Matt used to be." She started with a drunken giggle. "What's something that hasn't changed about him?"

Matthew's head turned towards you to shoot you a glare, but you didn't give him a chance to get to you.

"He's terrified of bugs." You held back a laugh as you thought about a time in fifth grade. "Any kind of bug. Big, small, wings, you name it, he'-"

A hand came up to cover your mouth and you turned to see Matthew himself leaning over the chair that Gyuvin was previously in. You gave him some sort of half-glare, half-pout, your hand coming up to drag his hand away.

It didn't work of course.

"Let her finish!" The girl who asked whined.

"Yeah, don't get on her bad side." Ricky laughed with a smirk. "She might beat you up again."

"It was this huge moth that flew into class, and I freaked out." Matthew said flatly, his hand still firm against your mouth.

You narrowed your eyes at him. He was lying of course, and as the only person around who knew him that well, you couldn't let these people be lied to.

You bit his hand and he pulled away almost immediately.

"No!" You yelled out as soon as his hand was away. "It was a butterfly!" You started laughed at the memory. "A fucking butterfly!!"

The table filled with laughter, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop there. After the week Matthew put you through, you could call things even after this.

"He screamed so loud, and he wouldn't stop until the teacher caught it and opened the window to let it out!" You leaned back onto Ricky's shoulder as you started to shake with laughter. The image of little Matthew screaming and pointing at the butterfly seemed so much funnier after a few drinks.

Everyone else seemed to be in an amused shock at the stark contrast from young Matthew to the person he was today. But Matthew couldn't keep the scowl off his face.

You had gotten yourself so lost in another question that you missed Ricky motioning to Matthew for something.

"Isn't it time to get you home?" Ricky shook the shoulder you were on to get your attention. "Aren't your roommates gonna worry?"

You whined at the thought.

"They left me." You pouted up at him. "They're out camping this weekend." You pushed yourself off his shoulder just to fall all the way to the other side.

Onto Matthew.

"Don't you think you've had enough to drink?" He said, annoyance taking over as he tried to get you to sit up.

"It's not like I was trying to lean on you." You gave him a scowl, or at least the best you could muster. "Gyuvin's supposed to be there, anyways."

"Yeah, you're done." He said, before grabbing your phone and standing up. "Let's get you home."

You looked to Ricky for help.

"I can't help you there, princess." He shrugged. "I don't even know where you live."

You were about to respond when you felt Matthew grab your arm to pull you up. When you lost your balance, he put your arm over his, sighing when you pulled away and stumbled again.

"Just hold on, please." He groaned. "If you fall, you're going to cry and I'm never going to let you live it down."

"I'm not even that drunk." You mumbled. "I can just go home with Ricky."

You knew what the answer to that would be, but you were petty at heart, and you were going to make this the worst possible situation for him.

"You sure your boyfriend would appreciate that?" He raised a brow.

"I don't have a boyfriend." You came back, your head held high.

"That's not what you were saying about H-"

You immediately found your footing as you forced your hand over his mouth.

"I swear on every higher power out there that I will kill you if you finish that sentence." You narrowed your eyes at him.

In true best friend fashion, Matthew responded by biting your hand so you'd pull away.

Payback was big between the both of you.

"My silence can be bought." He smiled bitterly at you before motioning with his arms for you to go before him. "Get to stepping."

You had spent most of the walk back to your place in silence. You didn't want to be the first to talk, and Matthew wasn't over your dramatic retelling of the butterfly story.

You didn't mind it though, after a week full of his yapping, you weren't that interested in getting him started again.

"You do have your key on you, right?" He said as you both approached the door. "Last thing we need is to get locked out."

"Do you have, like, zero faith in me?" You turned to ask him as you slid your hand into the tiny pocket of your shorts, pulling out a single key.

"Do you not own something to put the key on?" Matthew questioned as if you were insane.

"In this outfit?" You asked as if it was the dumbest statement on earth. "It would stick out and look gross." You frowned, trying, and failing, to stick the key in properly.

"You always look gross." He mumbled before taking the key from you and easily sliding it in to unlock the door.

"The rest of the keychain is right there." You mumbled as you walked past him and flopped onto the couch, the alcohol in your system starting to set in.

He rolled his eyes before reattaching the key onto the ring before turning back to you.

"You could just give me your keys next time, y'know?" His hands were gently trying to slide your shoes off without pulling too hard. "I have pockets that aren't two millimeters deep."

"That would require talking to you." You sighed, pulling your leg back to help him get the shoes off. "You haven't been the easiest to do that with."

He'd never minded when you dated people, and of course, he's yet to have anything more than a one-night stand with anyone so you never had the chance to care. But you never minded his sexcapades. You were happy, in fact. He was finally comfortable enough in his own skin to talk to women. How could you hate that? But the back and forth between being supportive of your situationships and then being upset was messing with you.

Hanbin wasn't the first time it had happened, but it was definitely the most committed he'd been in attempting to sabotage.

The first time it happened was about two years ago. You had just started college and someone from class had asked you out to coffee. Matthew insisted on hiding out to make sure he wasn't a creep, and you couldn't believe him. Nor talk him out of it.

When the guy did turn out to be a creep, you didn't hear the end of it.

"I told you so."

"What do you think would have happened if I wasn't there?"

"Can't you just say, 'thank you' and move on?"

That marked the beginning of Matthew's wishy-washy behavior towards your love life.

You'd be thankful if he wasn't such a dick about it.

"Don't tell me you passed out on me." He spoke up after putting your shoes away. You must have been too busy in your thoughts to realize he got the other one off. "I can't let you fall asleep on the couch, you're gonna kill me."

When he saw you were awake, he tilted his head.

"What's on your mind?" He asked. "You're not saying something bitchy."

You tiredly rolled your eyes.

"I'd say you're on my mind but your ego's too big for that."

"There she is." He smiled before reaching a hand out. "Let me get you to bed and you can cuss me out all you want."

"I'd rather fight you." You crossed your arms and rolled over to face the back of the couch so he couldn't help you up. "I'll sleep here. You sleep on the bed."

"You'd lose." He started before trying to roll you back over. "And remember the last time I let you sleep on the couch? You blamed me for the kink in your neck for a week."

You continued fighting him, wanting nothing more than for him to just go to bed in the other room. If you looked at him, you were scared you'd let everything out.

"I'm drunk, you know. The more you shake me, I might throw up on you."

"Nothing you haven't done before."

His response was quick and for some reason, it pissed you off more.

"Do you have an answer for everything?" You turned towards him.

And just your luck.

You turned at the same time that he pulled you.

Leading your face to end right in front of his.

It wasn't your intention, but you couldn't speak. You could only offer a small hiccup.

The silence felt suffocating as you both stared at each other. No words. No sounds.

Just another hiccup.

"I'm no better than Hanbin if I do what I want to right now." He whispered but his voice was mildly strained, as if he was holding himself back.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but the sudden closeness threw you off. You couldn't think, you couldn't speak, and you barely managed to hear what he just said.

Barely.

"This is your last chance to pick between the bed and the couch." He said, his voice just above a whisper this time. "Because I'll take the bed and lock you out."

You quickly slid out from under him and gave a small 'night' as you rushed to your room and closed the door. You barely made it to the bed before you dragged your hands down your face.

What the fuck was that?

Who the fuck were you?

And what the fuck did he mean by that?

You quickly threw on some sleeping clothes and got into bed. You were slightly dizzy but now that you were laying down, all you had to do was close your eyes and hope what he said was just the alcohol talking.

When your eyes opened your room was still dark. You sighed in relief as that meant it was still night.

Your throat was dry, and you weighed the possibilities of Matthew still being awake and you dying of thirst. You patted around for your phone and cringed when you saw the bright "4:57" flash across your screen.

It was highly possible he was awake.

But you also felt like a dry sponge.

Fuck it.

You slowly opened the door and tried to move as quietly as possible.

"Matthew?" You called out in a whisper, hoping he wouldn't answer. "You awake?"

When there was no answer, you quickened your pace.

As you slowly opened the fridge door, the last words he said to you lingered in your head. You didn't know if you imagined it or not, but there was no harm in venting to deaf ears, right?

"What did you mean by what you said earlier?" You whispered as you grabbed a water bottle and closed the door, sliding down it to sit on the floor. "Why do you give me mixed signals all the time?" Your voice was quieter this time, as if his dream self would hear you.

It was the most cliché thing around and you hated it. 'Best friends to lovers', 'childhood friends to lovers', 'friends who secretly love each other', and of course the 'unrequited love towards your best friend' trope.

The thought alone made you gag. They were the oldest in the book.

You had to be better than that, right?

Right?

You couldn't pinpoint exactly when your feelings towards him strayed away from platonic, but what you did know was that he wasn't making it any easier.

"Y/n?" He sleepily called out and you moved to sit behind the counter.

Wait.

This was your place.

Why were you hiding?

"Just getting some water." You spoke before clearing your throat. "Go back to bed."

You closed your eyes at how stupid the situation was. Could you be anymore cliché?

"It's like, five in the morning?" He sounded closer and you thought about booking it back to your room. "Why are you on the floor?"

You looked up and he was rubbing his eyes. Even in the dark you could see his messy hair and you felt your heart jump.

"Floor time?" You tried.

"Floor time?" He repeated, standing in the same spot as his eyes continued to adjust. "That's evening activities, not early morning."

You tried your best to bring out the feisty so you looked normal to him.

"I was dizzy from drinking, can't I sit on my own floor?"

"Do you just hate me or something?" He said. "Or did you hear what I said last night?" He scoffed. "Is this your way of drawing a line?"

Shit.

"What are you talking about?" You said as you got up and put some space between you. "I didn't hear anything."

"Liar." He took a step. "You heard me."

You took a step back.

"I think you're still drunk." You tried. "Talk to me when you're sober." You moved to push past him, but he moved in front of you.

"You drank more than me last night and you know it."

"Don't." You started. "It's not my fault you don't know how to have fun." You tried to walk around him and failed again.

"There's no one here to impress with your little tough act so just drop it." He said. "Let's just talk about what I said."

"Tough act?" You stepped back. "I've always had more balls than you and you know it." You crossed your arms. "Mr. Butterfly phobia."

Even in the dark you could see him roll his eyes.

"Do I still look like the kid you met in second grade?" He took a step towards you, and you took one back. "Do you really still see me as that same kid?" He took another step, as did you, the corner of the table stopping you. "Because I don't see you that way." He took a final step before his eyes traveled lower. "Especially in those fucking shorts."

You quickly stared up at him.

"If you're fucking with me, it isn't funny." Your voice shook as you spoke. You moved to walk past him, but he placed his arms on either side of you, caging you in.

"I'm not fucking with you." He said lowly. "And I heard you earlier." He said.

"I didn't say anything." You weren't one to give in so easily, especially when it didn't benefit you. "Hanbin wants to meet for lunch. If I want any chance at looking decent I need more sleep." You were lying out of your ass but you hoped it would work.

You moved to push his arm but it wasn't moving.

"Hanbin?" His voice was an angry kind of low. "Do you even know what he thinks about you?"

He didn't give you a chance to respond before continuing.

"Do you know how much shit Hanbin's been talking about you? And how much I've had to try and save your feelings by getting you to leave him alone?" He pushed himself off the table. "Sugarcoating this whole situation so you wouldn't be left crying over some fuckface who can't keep his dick to himself?"

You were about to respond when he continued.

"She's so easy." He mocked with air-quotes. "A few outings, a couple fucks, a gift here and there. Now she thinks I'm a changed man." He went on, acting out what you assumed to be Hanbin's exact movements.

He wasn't looking at you as he got caught up in his feelings and you were glad. Even in the dark, you were sure he'd be able to make out your expressions. Your own feelings were coming up and if he wasn't in front of you, you'd have run back to your room.

"She's so stupid." He said the word like it hurt to come out. "Can you believe she thinks I'd actually date her? Why give up my roster for her of all people?"

"You can stop now." You grit your teeth, tears threatening to spill. You didn't expect much out of Hanbin, but hearing what he had to say about you hurt more than it should have.

"I know better?" He repeated your statement from before as he ran his tongue along the inside of his lip, his jaw tensing as he leaned back in. "And what do I know exactly, y/n?" He paused. "That I'm always right and that you never want to listen?"

"But you know better?" He changed his tone, still copying your statements from before. "Just what do you know?"

"I know that you're a dick." You started, gathering all the strength in you to push past him. "And that you are just as bad as Hanbin."

You didn't wait to hear a response before you rushed back to your room and locked the door.

You thought falling back asleep would refresh your mind but all you did was toss and turn until the sun finished setting. It didn't help that your head had started to hurt.

You sighed as you pulled your blankets off and sat up, the pain in your head intensifying slightly. You made your way to your restroom, and quickly grabbed the bottle of pain reliever before turning the faucet on to scoop some water with your hand. You quickly popped the pill in and threw your head back. Your first attempt left you gagging, everything but the pill going down. Your second attempt was more successful.

You sighed as you were left with the unpleasant taste. You knew you'd be fucked if you didn't wash it out, but you also knew you'd be fucked if Matthew kept up his attitude from before.

You reluctantly made your way out of the room.

"One would think we live together with how often you're here." You mumbled as he sat at your table eating a bagel. You would have grabbed one, too, if the bag wasn't so close to him. You settled on some juice.

It wasn't out of the norm for him to take care of you the day after you drank, but of all the days, you really wished he'd just go home.

"People already think we're dating." He mumbled back. "It would make sense to them if we lived together." He said before getting up.

"With how much we fight, people think we're siblings." You corrected, more to yourself. "No couple acts like we do."

"Well, most couples already know the other person likes them." He said flatly.

"What's that supposed t-"

"You know exactly what I mean." He cut you off. "How many times are we going to go back and forth like this?" He sighed as he looked towards you. "You know I like you."

The silence settled and you knew you should have been jumping at the chance to say something but part of this just felt like some sick joke.

"You even asked about mixed signals that I tried to clear up and you ran away." He continued his rant. "If you don't want me just fucking say that."

The silence took over again and you wanted to kick yourself. You wanted to tell him his shitty way of clearing things wasn't the move he thought it was. You wanted to tell him that him pretty much calling you an idiot wasn't going to get him anywhere. But the words just weren't coming out.

Why was this so difficult?

"Fine. You want me gone?" He said as he stood up. "I'm going."

You bit your tongue as you watched him grab his stuff before heading to the door. He reached for the knob.

Fuck it.

"And if I do still see you as the same kid I met in elementary?" You called out, feeling a minor surge of victory as his arm fell. "It's not like you've ever acted like anything other than that."

You could hear him scoff but he didn't turn around.

"I mean, you bicker like one." You said. "You beat around the bush like one."

"And you don't?" He said, his back still facing you. "You refuse to listen like one." He started his own list as he finally turned towards you. "And if you're left to your own devices, you get in trouble."

"I may not listen but at least I can say things with my chest." You admitted. "You can't be upset that I don't see you as a man when you've never acted like one."

He dropped his stuff where he was standing, his jaw tensing as he watched you.

"Look who's beating around the bush now."

He took a step.

"This is your way of trying to get me to do something, isn't it?"

Another step.

He was nowhere near you, but the act still made you back up. Talk about déjà vu, but this was different with the lights on.

"I've barely taken two steps towards you, and you can't even handle that." He scoffed. "Maybe I don't 'act like a man' around you because you can't handle it."

Your eyes narrowed at him.

"I can." You challenged. "Hanbin can attest to that." You let a smirk form on your lips as you watched his reaction. Sure, he was a dick, but you meant what you said. And you weren't going to pass up a chance to throw something back at Matthew. "Just admit you're not man enough to act on it."

You were fully aware your words were not matching your actions, but you couldn't back down. This is how your arguments always went.

Faking it 'til you make it.

"Then come here." He motioned with his finger.

You watched as he flicked his finger, and you felt your legs stiffen.

"I'll act on it if you do." He said simply. "I'm scared if I take another step you might stumble." He smirked.

His mocking tone urged you to walk forward, even if everything inside of you screamed to stay still. Every step was a different statement running through your mind.

There's no going back if you do this.

Your relationship won't be the same.

Can you handle losing him if things go south?

The second you were in front of him, though, the way his smirk grew had your mind going blank. His hand reached up to your face, his index finger raising your chin so you were looking up at him.

He leaned in slowly, his thumb moving to rest on your chin and keep you in place.

Your heartbeat was in your ears as his lips finally pressed against yours. It didn't take long for you to kiss him back, your hand coming up to hold onto the wrist of the hand that was supporting your chin.

You could feel him smirk against you before pulling away.

"How's that for beating around the bush?" He whispered as his lips hovered above yours, eye contact never breaking as the hand that was holding your chin moved to the back of your neck. Your hand sliding towards his forearm with the new position.

"Am I supposed to believe a tiny kiss is 'doing something'?" You batted your lashes. "Is this as manly as you get?"

"All you ever do is talk shit, you know that, right?" He smirked as he took a step forward, his other hand coming around to catch you when you backed up.

"It's my specialty." You fought the urge to stumble on your words. "Don't act like you don't love it."

He pulled you closer and the warmth that you met forced a gasp from you.

"Wanna see just how much I love it?" He whispered as his hand traveled to your lower back.

You didn't trust your voice this time. All you could give him was a nod.

"Look at how much better it is when you just listen." He said as he dipped his head down to press a kiss to your jaw, his head nudging yours to the side so he could continue to your neck. "If you spent less time fighting me, I could spend more time making you feel good."

You felt a shiver run down your spine when he kissed a certain spot and you felt him smirk before biting lightly. Your hand that was resting on his arm was now tightening around it.

You wanted to say something but the feeling of his hand that was resting behind you moving under your shirt made you forget what you were going to say.

"Can I touch you?" He whispered, his hand inching closer to your breasts.

You nodded and he stopped. He pulled away and looked down at you.

"Say it."

You could feel your face heat up as the words got stuck in your throat.

"What happened to saying things with your chest, hm?" He hummed, clearly amused at how quickly you seemed to forget your little speech. "Or were you just trying to get me upset?" He gave you a mocking pout.

"You're just a brat." He said, his hand slowly inching back up, the side of his thumb grazing the side of your breast, but not fully touching you. "Acting like you don't want someone who'll just do whatever they want with you." His hand moved under your breast, keeping the same small distance.

Your mind was fuzzy as his hand traveled across your chest to the opposite side. You wanted to admit it, but you were more focused on trying to arch into his touch, a move that he couldn't help but laugh at.

"Even now you're still trying to beat around the bush." He smirked as he pulled his hand away, reveling in how your face fell. "Admit it and I'll give you what you want."

You watched as he moved to lean against the back of the couch. He used his arms for support, and you couldn't help but marvel at the way they flexed.

"And you won't use it against me?" Your voice was smaller than before and you nearly cringed at yourself.

"Not in front of others." He gave you a smirk. "Can't have anyone else thinking you'll act like this for them."

The comment had you trying to hit his shoulder in retaliation but he was quick to grab it.

"I'd play nice while I'm playing nice." He looked down at you.

The way his hand gripped your wrist had you swallowing hard.

"And if I don't want to?" Your voice was still small, but he had to respect your will to keep up the act.

"We can chill like this and stare at each other all day." He smiled sweetly.

The hand that was holding your wrist pulled you into him again.

"We can stay," He paused, his free hand grabbing your other wrist and pinning them both in his hand. "Right. Here." He cocked his head to the side with an innocent smile.

You were holding eye contact more out of spite this time and his hand was back on you, but over your clothes this time.

"Y'know." He started, never breaking eye contact with you as his hands were more committed this time. That damned smile coming back when your body reacted. "I always figured you'd be all bark, no bite." His fingers softly ran over your nipple, and you let out a sigh. "I just thought you'd be begging by now." He said before lightly pinching it.

Your hands instinctively moved, but he kept them in place.

"I also thought you'd be feistier." He chuckled. "But you must really want something if you're not fighting like you usually do." His hand moved to give your other nipple attention. "I bet you want nothing more than for me to bend you over this couch." His words were emphasized with a harsher pinch, and you were embarrassed by the moan that slipped out of you.

He was barely touching you and your legs were already squeezing together.

"You'd like that wouldn't you, baby?" He smiled, his hands pulling your wrists so you were back to being right in front of him. "Just say the word."

You licked your lips before parting them, but as his gaze was more intense, you froze.

"Come on, pretty girl." He coaxed, his hand moving to pet your hair. "Tell me how much of a brat you are." His finger ran over your cheek. "How you talked all that shit just to rile me up." He whispered as he ran his finger over your lower lip. "Tell me how bad you want me."

He was talking so sweetly that you couldn't hold back anymore.

"Please," You whimpered. "Stop teasing."

"You know how to make me stop." He said simply. "Be a good girl and tell me what I wanna hear."

"I want you." You broke. "I want you so bad, please." You whimpered, hands tugging against his hold. "If I'd known you were like this, I'd never have acted up, I swear."

"'Like this'?" He quoted with a raised brow. "And what am I like, pretty girl?"

"Matthew, please." You whined and tugged against his hold again, but he only pulled you impossibly closer.

"What did I say about playing nice?" His voice was lower and you wanted nothing more than to take back everything you said in the past twenty-four hours.

"I didn't think you'd.." You trailed off, suddenly feeling small under his gaze. "Act like this." You swallowed. "...I thought you'd just give me what I want."

"Good girl." He smiled sweetly. "Now apologize for making this harder than it needed to be."

"I-I'm sorry."

"Tell me you want me." He licked his lips. "I'll give in if you tell me one more time." He smirked. "You just sound so pretty asking for me."

All trace amounts of shame that were in you were long gone as you practically begged him to do something.

He was quick to pull you back in for a kiss, his hand releasing your wrist and opting to rest on your ass before giving a harsh squeeze, your moan acting as encouragement. He moved the both of you around the sofa so he could sit, and you happily straddled his lap and hovered, wanting nothing more than for his hands to have room to do whatever they wanted. Your hands grabbed the sides of his face, the need to just touch him taking over.

It was as if he were making up for lost time the way his hands roamed over you before slipping into your pajama shorts from one of the leg holes, the action coaxing a gasp from you.

His fingers slowly slipped under your panties, and he moaned as he slid his fingers towards your clit.

He wanted to make a comment about how wet you were from the bare minimum. He wanted to ask why you were so needy. He wanted to pull away and make a comment about how right you were that he didn't know what a clit was just to make you squirm. He wanted to tell you to beg him to touch you. But the way you sounded was too good for him to want to interrupt. He could talk his shit later.

He was slow and steady with circling your clit as if you weren't nearly dripping. You were sure he could slide into you completely and you'd be more than fine.

"Don't tease." You whispered, your head dropping onto his shoulder.

"Making sure you can take me is teasing?" He chuckled, his finger moving to slide into you. "The last thing you need to bark about it how much you can take." His tone was serious, but you really couldn't handle the foreplay.

"Matthew, I damn near came untouched from you holding me still, just fuck m-" You were cut off as a moan was ripped from you when he roughly inserted two more fingers.

"I told you to play nice twice already." He growled, his hand coming up to grab your hair and make you look at him, the sight of you with your mouth hanging open making him twitch in his pants. "I don't ask three times."

Your legs tried to close but you fucked yourself over when you climbed over his lap.

"You're going to cum from this, then apologize." He told you sternly, his fingers alternating from fast pumps to slow. "If it's a good apology, I'll fuck you like you so desperately want me to." His eyes were back on you. "Is that understood?"

You nodded, but the way his thumb ran over your clit had the words spilling out of you.

"Yes, sir." You whined as the title came out, your eyes screwing shut in partial embarrassment. It was the last thing you wanted him to know.

"And here I thought you were a 'daddy' kinda girl." He smirked as his hold on your hair moved you so he could lean in and press more kisses against your neck, leaving small bites when he felt like it.

"Matthew, please, I'-"

"Ask sir for permission." You could feel him smirk against your neck and you couldn't help but clench. "If you cum without permission, I won't fuck you at all."

"Please, sir, can I cum?" You were glad he couldn't see you. You knew the way the tears were welling your eyes that he'd never let you live it down. "I need to cum, sir, so bad."

And just like that, your luck ran out as he pulled away to look at you.

"Look at me when you cum." His thumb was back on your clit and your body twitched. "If you close your eyes, I'm leaving."

You reluctantly opened your eyes. You didn't need to be told twice if it meant you could let go, your eyes nearly closing from the pleasure. You managed to keep them at a questionable squint, and you hoped Matthew would be okay with it.

As he slid his fingers out of you, your body fell completely onto him. The rough hand in your hair was now softly petting as you tried to catch your beath.

"Now where's that apology?" He said softly when he felt you calm down.

"I'm sorry for not being nice." You'd be ashamed of yourself if he didn't just fuck you up with his fingers alone. Maybe he deserved some sincerity. "I won't make you repeat yourself again, sir."

"Hmm," He hummed as he pretended to think on it. "Do you think you deserved to cum so quickly?"

"No, sir." You shook your head. "Thank you for letting me."

You were starting to fear the heat on your face was now permanent. How were you supposed to move on from this? The idea of maintaining a friendship was gone, but how were you supposed to even look at him after this?

"Do you still want me to bend you over the couch or would you rather stay right here?"

You whined against him at the way he phrased it.

"You'll call me 'sir' but I can't ask where you want it?" He laughed his usual laugh and your heart fluttered. "Come on," He moved you off of him and took his shirt off. "We can do missionary and you can stare at me all you want."

It was your turn to laugh.

"As much as I'd love more eye contact," You chuckled. "I'll take my chances over the couch."

"Don't blame me if you fall off." He smirked.

"Are you saying you'd let me fall?" You gave him your best puppy dog eyes. "That's not very nice, sir."

Instead of words, he grabbed you and pushed you over the back of the couch, your knees steady against the back of the sofa. You were glad to not be looking at him, but something about not knowing what he'd do first was getting to you.

You lightly flinched when your felt his hands at your waist, his hands hooking both your shorts and underwear into his grasp before he pulled them down.

"As much as I'd love to just push them to the side, I don't want to ruin such cute pajamas." You couldn't see him licking his lips as the pieces of clothing landed on your knees.

He ran his hands over your legs, his eyes trained on how goosebumps trailed behind his touch.

"Do you know how many times I thought about this?" He whispered as he took in the scene in front of him. It was more to himself, and he wasn't expecting an answer, but when you spoke up, he couldn't contain himself.

"Don't hold back, then." You whispered. "I'm all yours right now."

You felt a sharp slap on your ass and you hissed.

"You're all mine from now on." He said before slapping the opposite cheek.

The words had you clenching around nothing. You wanted nothing more than to ask him to fuck you, but you were scared he'd get upset again.

"Say it." He said, the sound of his pants shifting filling the silence after the question.

"I'm yours, sir." You repeated. "Always."

You felt him move behind you and place a hand on your back. It wasn't long before you felt him run himself along your folds, the pressure on your clit making your hips buck.

It didn't take long until you felt him teasingly slip himself inside just to pull out, then repeat, pushing himself deeper and deeper with every thrust.

"Fuck," He groaned once he bottomed out, the hand on your back balling into a fist.

"Please," You moaned as you clenched around him. "Matthew, I need you."

The desperation in your voice as you said his name was enough to pull him from his thoughts.

"I'll take it that we really can't go back from this." He groaned as his hands moved to grip your hips for support.

"You're literally inside me, why are you bringing this up," You whined as you gripped the sofa. He would bring up the most irrelevant shit.

"Because -fuck- I need to know this isn't a one-time thing." His voice was strained.

Of all the times to get emotional.

"It will be if you don't shut up." You bit back a moan when his hips sped up. "I'm trying to enjoy this." Your hand reached behind you and without asking, he was quick to hold on.

The interaction was enough to make your stomach tighten, and it wasn't long before you opened you mouth in a failed attempt to ask for permission to let go. He could feel you getting closer and spoke up for you.

"You don't have to, y/n." He ran his finger over your hand. "Just let go."

The gesture had your legs shaking and it confused you. You weren't one to come undone from gentleness in bed. Yet, here you were, Matthew's name falling off your lips as you tried to catch your breath. When he groaned your name as he came, you swore you could cum again on the spot.

When you both calmed down, he slowly pulled out and wrapped his hands around you to pull you off the back of the couch. He moved the both of you so you were laying down, but you moved so you were on his side instead of his chest.

There was a strange silence that took over and you started to wonder if he was regretting it. There was nothing wrong with crossing the line, but what if the realization took over that he couldn't uncross the line? Sure, he mentioned it, but what if that was a heat-of-the-moment thing to say?

As if he read your mind, he spoke up.

"Tell me this wasn't a one-time thing." He looked down at you while his thumb ran lines over your hip.

Maybe it wasn't a heat-of-the-moment type thing.

"Do you think I'd embarrass myself for a one-night stand?" You raised a brow. "After everything you made me say, it better not be a one-time thing."

"And just how did you embarrass yourself?" He chuckled. "The begging? The tears? Screaming my name?"

"You wish I screamed your name." You rolled your eyes. "Be nice or I'm locking you out."

"You'd let me back in." He challenged.

"You sure about that?" You raised a brow.

"Of course, I am." He smirked.

"You listen to me so well."

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krispycreamcake · 4 months ago

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Yui Komori girlfriend hcs ♡♡

🌷- Ok so everyone usually thinks of Yui as timid or generally soft spoken

🌷- Personally I think she's just extremely patient. Obviously the anime does her no justice, but I think she enjoys giving others the room they need to talk

🌷- As a girlfriend, my immediate thoughts are empathetic, caring, thoughtful, etc. I'm sure everyone can agree

🌷- But other than her kind nature, what kind of girlfriend would Yui actually be?

🌷- I imagine her to be someone who sends pictures of stray cats with a wall of text describing their every move and whether the cat likes her or not

🌷- She also seems to be the type of person to enjoy late night visits/calls when she's feeling overwhelmed or maybe just bored

🌷- I picture her to enjoy scrapbooking and insists on walking with her camera everywhere you two go so she can take pictures

🌷- She'd be the type of person to order food at a restaurant after insisting she doesn't want the same dish you got, but then proceeds to steal half your meal

🌷- I feel like she's very financially aware? That's an odd one but I imagine her to call you while you're busy to tell you how the price of milk has raised while shopping and have a half hour long discussion on the cost of milk brands

🌷- She's always the one to get rid of the creepy crawlies, as a matter of fact she insists on not killing it and allowing her to take it outside instead

🌷- She appreciates romantic gestures but might make a joke if it's super corny, like standing outside her window with a stereo, even if it was for shits and giggles

🌷- Has a playlist on your YouTube account for cooking recipes and could not care less when you tell her she has her own phone

🌷- Speaking of phone, she has an Android. SUE ME.

🌷- Likes to take candid photos to make stickers that you both embarrass each other with

🌷- Likes matching profile pictures because then her bio gets to be "matching with ___!"

🌷- Date nights aren't something she expects from you, but eventually notices the pattern and takes a mental note that you both go out for ice cream on Saturday nights

🌷- You both share a charger. Whether it was yours or hers that got lost in the void or dismantled beyond repair by some supernatural force, you both now share a single, barely working charger

🌷- Speaking of sharing, you both each have some kind of clothes from each other that you've adopted as your own. It literally doesn't matter if it's underwear or t-shirts, it's both yours now and no one can expect to be getting them back

🌷- Begs you to make tanghulu with her ever since it became trendy and has a plethora of videos in her camera roll dedicated to you guys just eating food

🌷- She likes physical touch. Your hand could be on her lap or vice versa, or just simply laying next to each other while waiting for a commercial to pass by, she enjoys feeling your body warmth

🌷- You guys almost always have sleepovers like middle school girls where you stay up the entire night talking about dumb topics or giggling at stupid jokes, high off of the positive atmosphere

🌷- Rented a Vespa one time and had you sit in the tiny little passenger seat

🌷- She loves making meals and buying gifts for you, literally her favourite thing to do is watch your reaction at all the hard work she put into making you have a better day

🌷- Promise rings obviously

🌷- Hmm maybe matching necklaces too

🌷- You tried making flan and both had to sit there and stomach what could only be described as resident evil food

🌷- Loves you so much that if she could take the moon and wrap it in a cute bow and put it under the Christmas tree, she really would

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers fandom #diabolik boys #yui komori #diabolik lovers yui #dialovers fandom #dialovers #diabolik lovers x you #diabolik lovers x reader #headcanon #anime x reader #diabolik lovers laito #ayato sakamaki #laito sakamaki #diabolik lovers subaru #diabolik lovers shu #fanfic

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whenmemorydies · 2 months ago

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You love taking care of people: Fine Dining in the Time of Late Stage Capitalism

CW: this post discusses toxic and abusive workplaces and makes brief mention of institutional child abuse and intergenerational trauma. I might also talk about global systems collapse, for shits and giggles. Also this is another long one. You know the drill. Lets have a cuppa. Also this is my last minute submission to Sydcarmy Week 2024 and the theme of “you love taking care of people”. Enjoy!

I have a confession to make to The Bear fandom:

The food is my least favourite part of this show.

Its not that its not interesting. It definitely is. I'm a home cook and for the most part, I enjoy cooking (when I can do it at my leisure and not like most mothers, while balancing the mental load). I just find all the other aspects of the show much more fascinating.

In fact, I think this show about a bunch of cooks in commercial kitchens is so popular not so much because of its take up of cooking but its unflinching and loving interrogation of grief and trauma, including the kinds that get passed down through families.

The truth is, I've also never been overly excited about the world of "fine dining." I grew up in a large, Tamil family and so our meals were big, shared and not necessarily conducive to the minimalist plating preferred in exclusive, "gourmet" spaces:

Photograph is mine, delicious Jaffna Tamil spread is the handiwork of my great aunt (Kunchi Ammamma or “little maternal grandmother”), arguably the best cook in our sprawling, extended family.

As tumultous as family life could get, I often experienced meals (that, lets be real, were almost always prepared by the women in my family) with my loved ones as a happy experience. I mean we also had our share of blow ups at the kitchen table but what was always consistent was the love and care that went into the food that we were given to eat. It was woven into the rich and complex flavours that made up the curries, varais, and sambals we had on our plates (and that even now, make me salivate just thinking about). It was spread throughout the warm, coconut-y rotis and steaming rice and puttu we ate with our hands and used to mop up all that spicy, flavourful goodness.

And if there's one question I heard more than any other from older family members growing up, it was "ni sappittiya?" ("have you eaten?"). More than "how are you?" and definitely more than "I love you." As with many Global South cultures, for Tamil folks, food is used for nourishment but also as a primary means of conveying deep care. Obviously Tamil people don't have the monopoly on using food to show their affection (or even the monopoly on using food to replace actually saying the words "I love you" lmao). Food has been found to increase interpersonal closeness and can also contribute to emotional regulation. Feeding a child is one of the first means of bonding between parents and children. Food also plays a big role in the course of romantic love: as a basis for first dates and future time spent with a partner, and of course also as an aphrodisiac.

As Cesar Chavez, Mexican-American civil rights activist, labor organiser and co-founder of the National Farm Workers Association (which later became the United Farm Workers union) said,

The people who give you their food, give you their heart.

You love taking care of people

Conveying care and love through food is a theme that comes up repeatedly in The Bear. Recall 1x02 Hands and the phone conversation with Nat and Carmy:

Natalie: Chefs always say a big part of the job is taking care of people, right?

Carmen: Yeah, yeah. No I guess.

Also recall an almost identical bit of dialogue between Carmy and Sydney, under the world's most famous table that had absolutely nothing wrong with it in 2x09 Omelette:

Carmen: You love taking care of people.

Sydney: Yeah I guess.

Here's some further mirroring between Sydney and Carmy about giving people joy through food. Recall again the phone call between Carmy and Nat in 1x02 Hands:

Natalie: When did the breathing problem start?

Carmen: I think maybe sometime in New York. I was throwing up every day before work.

[...] Chef was a piece of shit.

Natalie: Then why'd you stay there?

Carmen: People loved the food. It felt good.

Also recall the conversation between Sydney and Marcus in 1x08 Braciole:

Sydney: I want to cook for people and make them happy, and give them the best bacon on Earth.

Be gentle with each other, so that you can fight stronger together: seasons 1-2 of The Bear

As rough and tumble as The Beef was, the clear throughline in season 1 (when The Beef was in operation) was the importance of the relationships and care between the show's characters. This was also the case in season 2 where the majority of the season was spent in the context of renovations and training prior to the opening of The Bear (in that season's last episode).

In season 1, we had Carmy leading the crew at The Beef by being patient, clearly explaining technique and positively reinforcing his staff's work.

Above left: Carmy walking the BOH crew through making Donna Berzatto's Lemon Chicken Piccata in 1x05 Sheridan. Above right: Carmy encouraging the crew to keep up their current pace in 1x06 Ceres.

We saw him working with Sydney, supportively encouraging the team to go further, to push themselves. We even saw Carmy at ease enough to talk about Mikey and his mother while at work. We had a Carmy showing us how integrated he can be.

Above: Carmy and Tina in 1x05 Sheridan

Heck, we even had a Carmy who wanted to get a compost installed at The Beef for processing food so that it didn't go to waste. Recall this golden bit of dialogue between him and Sweeps in 1x01 System:

Carmen: Eh yo Gary, you set up a compost for me today, Chef?

Sweeps: After I do my thing in the place.

Carmen: That's very clear. Thank you.

We had a Carmy who had time. Recall the below scene in 1x02 Hands before Sydney gives Carmy her draft business plan for The Beef (that she drafted on her own initiative and time to support his family's struggling business. If this man doesn't hurry up and fight for her in s4 istg...):

Sydney: Hey you got time?

Carmen: Always. What's up?

Similarly, we had Carmen in the first episode of season 2 making time to talk to a clearly distraught Richie:

Richie: Yo you ever think about purpose?

Carmen: I love you, but I do not have time for this, alright? *starts to walk up the stairs out of the basement*

Richie: *Nods, looks dejected, sniffs*

Carmen: I have time for this. *comes back down the stairs and sits with Richie*

Most pointedly in season 1 we had the conversation between Sydney and Carmy in 1x03 Brigade which lays the blueprint for their joint vision for the restaurant and which should have acted as a touchstone for both of them in season 3:

Sydney: You know, I think this place could be so different from all the other places we've been at. But in order for that to be true, we need to run things different.

When I said I didn't think that the brigade was a good idea, you didn't listen. And its not that you told me that I had to. [...] But you just didn't really listen and if this is going to work the way that I think we both want it to work [...] I think we should probably try to listen to each other.

Carmen: Yeah. You're right.

Sydney: The reason I'm here and not working somewhere else, or for someone else, is 'cause I think I can stand out here. I can make a difference here. We could share ideas. I could implement things that make this place better. And I don't wanna be wasting my time, working on another line or tweezing herbs on a dish that I don't care about, or running brunch, God forbid.

Carmen: *nods vigorously*

In season 2 while The Beef undergoes its facelift into The Bear, some of the show's most beautiful moments were when characters displayed their faith and trust in one another. Recall 2x01 Beef where Sydney asks Tina to be her sous chef, or 2x02 Pasta where Sydney and Carmy send Tina and Ebra to culinary school (and Tina's unwavering belief in and support for a nervous Ebra once they get there), and 2x03 Sundae and 2x04 Honeydew where we see Carmy and Sydney send Marcus to Copenhagen to stage with Chef Luca and build up his skills as a pâtissier.

So what happened at The Bear?

Season 3 of the show has been the most divisive of the series, with its preceding two seasons being almost unanimously adored by fans and critics alike. There's been a lot of debate on here and elsewhere as to why this is the case. What appears to be a dominant line of reasoning in this regard is the shift in Carmy and his approach to running The Bear as a fine dining institution.

At The Bear, we have Carmy as an Executive Chef who's berating, hostile, and blaming everyone else for his emotional state ("You guys are fucking killing me"). We have a Carmy who has taken "every second counts" to a point so minute that he has given up smoking because of the time away from the kitchen that it will cost him. We have a Carmy who has no patience for his team, almost all of whom have no experience working in fine dining before the opening night of The Bear. We see how out of sync Carmy and Sydney are ("Been off"). We have a Carmy who is reverting to patterns of behaviour that have been modelled for him by two of his abusers: his mother, Donna Berzatto and his previous boss, Chef David Fields, Executive Chef at Empire.

Perhaps second only to Donna and her stand in Claire, Chef David Fields' toxic legacy haunts season 3 of The Bear.

This is nowhere more clear than in the sheer wasting of food and money in season 3 epitomised by Carmy's insistence on changing the The Bear's menu every day (to quote Tina: "Every day, Joffrey Ballet?!") and his repeated throwing out of dishes he deemed "not perfect."

The waste did not go unnoticed by other characters on the show. Recall Natalie telling Carmy off in 3x03 Doors:

Natalie: The menu cost is out of control.

Carmen: Nat, figure it out.

Natalie: Oh. Oh. Figure it out? Wow.

Carmen: Figure it out.

Natalie: Why don't you fucking figure it out?

Carmen: I'm trying to use less shit.

Natalie: Okay, well, whatever you're doing, the R&D [research & development] of that, its fucking us.

Carmen: Well, we're using the best shit.

Natalie: Duh. Duh. Well, duh.

Carmen: Duh? Don't duh. No duh. [lmao this dialogue]

Natalie: Don't buy fucking crazy shit and then use it once, Carm. It's so wasteful. Duh! Duh, duh. Fucking duh, bro.

In episode 3x05 Children, Uncle Jimmy commissions The Computer to come in and run analytics on The Bear in an effort to get its costs under control (LOL at his assessment below, scrawled on the back of the dodgiest looking pie chart I've ever seen):

Computer: This sample is based on the month and a half we've been operating and does not take into account any funds spent previously on build, friends and family budget, other assorted fuckery.

Carmen: I mean, there hasn't been that much fuckery.

Cicero: Oh neph. You specialise in the fucking fuckery, bro.

Uncle Jimmy had plenty to say about Carmy's use of the former's funds (which Jimmy has duly invested in The Bear to support his nephew) including Carmy's decision to spend $11,268.00 on Orwellian butter (aka Dystopian Butter from the Fucking Rare Transylvanian Five-Titted Goat, lmao).

Even Carmy was under no delusions about how wasteful he was being this season. Recall his discussion with Sydney in 3x05 Children:

Sydney: You know what we should be doing?

Carmen: Produce vendor. You don't have to say it.

Sydney: Okay, I didn't say it then. I didn't say anything. Do you want me to say something?

Carmen: That I'm jamming us up 'cause we have a new menu every day and the economics aren't great?

Sydney: Well, I'm an accomplice, so...

Note: the language in this small bit of dialogue struck me as being off. Why does Sydney needs Carmy's permission to say anything? Its like she knows that he knows the constantly changing menu and exorbitant expenses are an issue but doesn't want to say anything until Carmy brings it up first. @yannaryartside has a great break down drawing the analogy between Sydney's "accomplice" confession here with Molly Ringwald's (sorry I dunno what her character's name was) confession about facilitating her partner's substance abuse, during an Al-Anon meeting in 1x03 Brigade.

We have Carmy repeating harmful patterns of behaviour at work that he has picked up from his personal life (for example, from his mother) but also from his professional experience.

The world of fine dining that both Carmy and Sydney came to The Beef from was marked, by their own admission, with "complete and utter psychopaths" who screamed, pushed and yelled at their staff (recall Sydney's disclosure to Carmy at the end of 1x05 Sheridan) or "fucking assholes" (in the case of Chef David Fields), who made their staff "very, probably mentally ill." Sadly, this aspect of The Bear is not fiction. @moodyeucalyptus pointed out in this post that both Carmy and David Fields appear to have elements of their characters based off of real life fine dining wunderkind Chef Charlie Trotter: a Chicago-based chef known to be brilliant but who mistreated his staff so badly that he had two class actions brought against him (one by FOH staff, and another by BOH staff led by James Beard Award winner Beverly Kim).

There are other stories about the grinding nature of the fine dining industry which we'll get into below. We'll also look at a few stories of chefs who are leading a renaissance away from the "toxic, hierarchical shit show" that has historically plagued fine dining and who Joanna Calo and Chris Storer may have front of mind as they take us through Carmy and Sydney's journey together in season 4 (because as tempting as Shapiro's offer is, we know Sydney isn’t leaving Carmy). But first, we need to go further back in time to look at how the fine dining industry itself has created the conditions for a chef like season 3 Carmy to exist in the first place. Lets look at the system, baby (to quote Tina in 1x01).

The Bear's culinary ancestry: Chef David Fields and the Fine Dining Industry

I should say that I did not want to go too far into history with this post. After Carmen, Natalie, and the Berzattos, I was committed to trying to write shorter meta (/snort). But I'd be remiss if I didn't talk about the origins of fine dining, and before that, the rise of Europe as the base of "haute cuisine" (which itself is directly tied to its history of colonialism and...Empire *badumbum* @freedelusionshere has made the point that The Bear writers have given Chef David's restaurant the name Empire purposefully and they're not wrong). All of this informs the current state of fine dining today.

Though France is often credited as the place where restaurants began (in the 1700s), its been established that folks were eating in communal restaurant settings all over the world, including in China about 700-600 years earlier. The origins of western fine dining (the tradition that Carmy and Sydney have trained within) however, are synonymous with French cuisine and the efforts of Georges Escoffier (who Carmy name drops in 1x03 Brigade).

The French Brigade

Escoffier was responsible for developing the French Brigade system of organising kitchen staff which is still used today in many restaurants worldwide, including at The Bear. The French Brigade was based on Escoffier's own military experience in the Franco Prussian War and was set up to identify roles in the kitchen and increase efficiency and consistency so that restaurants could scale their work to serve larger numbers of customers.

The thing with anything based on structures found in the military is that its going to replicate hierarchy (a chain of command is central to the running of military operations). In fact, much of 1x03 Brigade is spent with Sydney resisting what she identifies as the imposition of a "toxic hierarchical shitshow".

Mariya Moore-Russell, the first Black woman in the world to get a Michelin star (who also happens to be from Chicago) talks at length here about the benefits of the French Brigade for systematising commercial kitchens but also how easily it can get corrupted if the wrong people are in the kitchen. She says in those circumstances, the Brigade can quickly perpetuate, racism, sexism, perfectionism and "all of the isms." My fav quote from the video? When Russell talks about the French standardisation of cooking adopted by most kitchens in fine dining industry (at 23:39):

They were like okay, how do we take what Grandma does, what Mama does and make it you know efficient and consistent but also just extremely stressful for everybody involved? (lmao)

Note: Moore-Russell has a series of videos on YouTube about her experiences in fine dining which are very illuminating. She's also such an engaging storyteller. For example, watch "My path through the restaurant industry".

Service à la française to service à la russe

In addition to the French Brigade, another development in the history of western fine dining was the shift in styles of food service from service à la française to service à la russe. Service à la française ('service in the French style') involved serving all the dishes for a meal at once, allowing patrons to serve themselves. Think something akin to buffet style. See below for table layout using service in the French style from 1775:

Source: Wikipedia.

To me, service in the French style looks kind of similar to how my Tamil family lays out our meals (as can be seen in the first picture of this meta, minus the pheasant, moonshine and roasted woodcocks...lol). This style of service also looks a whole lot like "family style" dining which can be described as: "when food is brought to the table on large platters or serving dishes rather than being individually plated. Guests then serve themselves from the dishes which are passed around the table." In fact, service in the French style or family style dining is how many cultures serve and eat their food, both in the home and in restaurant settings (whether they use these terms to describe that layout is another matter).

I also seem to recall a couple of soulmates Jeffreys deciding to open a family-style restaurant in 1x08 Braciole (which @bootlegramdomneess has also pointed out in her post here).

In the 19th century, service in the French style became replaced in European restaurants by service à la russe ('service in the Russian style'). This style of service is what Western fine dining and haute cuisine restaurants utilise to this day. It involves bringing courses to the dining table in sequence, one after the other. Courses are portioned and plated before being brought to the diner by service staff.

In the case of Western fine dining, Escoffier shaped haute cuisine ('high cooking') through the use of his French Brigade system and the implementation of service in the Russian style. Haute cuisine has undergone shifts and changes since the 19th century including with the nouvelle cuisine movement in the 1960s which was marked by a focus on fresh produce, paired-back menus and a focus on invention. Haute cuisine of today has been described as a fusion: employing elements of nouvelle cuisine and more elaborate techniques and processes from Escoffier's system.

To my mind, service à la russe involves a lot more people (definitely more wait staff) to have it deployed effectively. When you have more people, you have more room for error (like all those dropped dishes in season 3). Family style service or service à la française allows people to serve themselves. It encourages sharing. Personally, I prefer the latter. Also can we talk about how small the portion sizes are in haute cuisine? lmao. I get it, its art. You need a gigantic plate for a small piece of hamachi because thats the canvas. Some (read: me, lmao) might also say its big ol' waste to wash a plate that size for food that takes up maybe a 1/5 of its surface area. Can we also talk about the concept of "chargers" (which the Computer rightfully rips into Carm and Sydney for in 3x05 Children) - why do you need a table setting that no one's gonna use? I'm sure there's other aspects to haute cuisine that make no fucking sense but honestly this meta is gigantic enough as it is so I'll stop there lol.

Anyway, notably it is service à la russe and food that would be described as haute cuisine that we see at The Bear. Family style is nowhere to be seen in season 3.

Colonialism, Empire and the rise of Western food cultures

A fact that is often left out of discussions about why the French and other European countries developed such globally renowned food cultures as well as their staggering wealth and status as "first world countries" (particularly in the period between the 1600s to the 19th century) was that at around the same time, these nation states were expanding their own empires by colonising other parts of the world with the express purpose of acquiring ingredients (and other resources) that they did not have access to in Europe. A brief and non-exhaustive list of examples below:

Europe's demand for flavour was so great in the 1600s that the Dutch traded Manhattan to the British in order to secure the Indonesian island of Banda Run which, at the time, was the world's only source of nutmeg. When they first arrived in the Banda Islands, the Dutch killed and enslaved much of the Bandanese population, taking control of the island's local nutmeg plantations. This violence would come to be known locally as The Banda Massacres.

It was the hunt for a direct trade route with India for black pepper that Christopher Columbus used to pitch his voyage to the King and Queen of Spain and which ultimately led him to the Americas. Columbus' arrival precipitated the colonisation of the Americas, which resulted in enslavement, disease and outright genocide, decimating First Nations populations throughout North and South America.

The colonisation of the Americas would also lead to the exporting of various foods that have come to be staples in European cooking. For example, the tomato - the key ingredient in many Italian (and Italian American) dishes - orginated in South and Central America and was brought to Europe via Spanish colonists.

The British set up their infamously brutal East India Company (EIC) to control the Indian subcontinent and the trade of various resources including precious metals, opium, textiles (silks and cotton), spices (such as cinnamon, black pepper, nutmeg, cloves, mace) and other food items (like salt, sugar, coffee and tea). The EIC would later be supplanted by the British Raj in Britain's stranglehold on India and after almost 200 years of imperialism and economic fraud, it has been estimated that the British drained India of nearly $45 trillion. I can't even begin to fathom an amount of money that large but the British could, and that theft powered much of the empire during its height.

The influence of Indian ingredients and cuisine spread throughout the British empire, including back to Britain itself. In fact, through colonisation and empire, Indian influences appear in various global cuisines (including other European cuisines as well as in the Caribbean).

Indeed the British's impact on food globally included its colonisation of Australia and New Zealand. These two colonial outposts essentially became gigantic cattle and sheep runs for the British who facilitated the wholesale theft of land - and in the case of Australia, did so without even bothering to enter into treaties with First Nations people - in order to run livestock that was then exported to feed Britain.

In order to satisfy its sweet tooth, France operated huge sugar plantations on the backs of the labour of enslaved Africans, particularly in Haiti (known at the time as Saint-Domingue). In the late 1700s, Haiti was responsible for exporting 40% of all the sugar consumed in Europe. The human cost of this was high and brutally violent. Eventually in 1803, after many armed revolts, enslaved African-descent people kicked the French out of the country after over a hundred years of heinous exploitation (thereby creating the first Black republic in the world). The French were so economically dependent on the colony for its production of coffee and sugar that when Haiti got its independence, France decided to punish the new republic for the loss of future income on Haitian exports, demanding 150 million francs in gold as compensation. The French sent warships to enforce this cruel debt. All in all, Haiti spent approximately $21 billion paying off France for the freedom that its people had already lost their lives and shed their own blood for. The debt (which involved the fledgling republic taking out exorbitant loans and fundraising amongst its citizens) was not paid off until 1947: 122 years after it was initially enforced. The French even charged Haiti interest.

Were it not for its vicious history of slavery and its century-long extortion of its former colony, I'm pretty sure France wouldn't have had the quantities of a certain key ingredient necessary to develop its worldwide reputation for pastries and desserts. I mean, you try making a crème brûlée, an eclair, a tarte tatin, a sweet galette, a mille-feuille, a madeleine, a crepe...without sugar.

This history deeply informs fine dining today. For centuries, Europe underdeveloped much of the world (borrowing Walter Rodney's turn of phrase) through colonialism and imperialist extraction. It then used those spoils and excess wealth to, among other things, develop its own food cultures and then self-proclaim itself as the cutting edge of the culinary world. To be clear, you can only faff about in a kitchen and create fancy sugar palaces and 10-course meals if you have the means and resources to do so. Haute cuisine is a product of wealth and resources, accumulated over time. Europe's colonial history also dictates which cuisines are recognised via awards like the Michelin star system. Hell, it dictates why you have the French (Michelin is a French tire company) dictating what constitutes "good" food in the first place. If you want to read more about this topic, this essay on Medium provides a good overview of the sad, racist state of affairs over at the Michelin Guide.

Where Europeans colonised and settled, this same lens was applied. This is why you have the undervaluing of Indigenous cuisine and ingredients in Australia, a situation which has only recently begun to shift. The colonisation of Australia actively involved the lying about Aboriginal foodways in Britain's attempt to falsely claim that Aboriginal peoples were nomadic hunter gatherers who did not use their land. Its why the history of how enslaved Africans brought their food cultures with them through the Door of No Return and transformed American cuisine, is not more widely known. Its why so few chefs of colour have been recognised for Michelin stars globally.

Empire and The Bear

Season 3 of The Bear pays clear homage to the impact of European empire on the world of fine dining in a few ways. The most obvious is the fact that Chef David's restaurant is literally called "Empire" lol. Another example and one of the most visually striking to me occurs in 3x01 Tomorrow. First, recall Chef David Fields' outright theft of Carmy's dish (I think we've established that you can't get more empire than the theft of food, yes?). Can we talk about how not only did Fields steal Carmy's dish but also, turned it into the most beige meal we've seen on The Bear to date, bar that single sprig of dill fighting for its life?

Carmy's penultimate plate (the final version being The Best Meal That Sydney Ever Had™):

Chef David Fields' dick measuring exercise version:

Carm was not a fan:

Can we talk about how the original plate featured the colours of the Italian flag (green, white and red) - emblematic of Carmy's cultural heritage and what is certainly one of the single biggest influences in his culinary journey (the dish also features fish, just like the main course in La Vigilia, the Feast of the Seven Fishes) - but after Fields was done with it, that shit was practically three shades of mayonnaise?

Can we talk about how Carmy's version of the dish almost certainly had a varied and dynamic flavour profile while Fields' looks just how I imagine it tasted like: whatever flavour meh is. The dish literally has no acid from what I can see (ingredients: paupiette of hamachi, fennel soubise, potato chip and dill). And I *know* a balanced dish has salt, fat, acid and heat (cos Chef Samin Nusrat told me).

Can we also talk about how Fields hates the most commonly traded of spices? The one that Columbus was looking for when he landed at what is now the Bahamas. The one that was an integral part of the East India Company's business plan rort to fuck India and South East Asia more generally?

Carmen: He hates black pepper for some reason I'll never understand. (from 3x10 Forever)

White folks in Europe were so hungry for spices to liven up their food that they invaded large swathes of the rest of the world to get the stuff. And yet, here we have Chef Fields, disliking Europe's gateway spice: the one that the Romans (Carmy's ancestors) had been trading with the East for centuries prior to Europe’s imperial frenzy, and which now makes up 20% of the world's spice trade.

Is the man so dedicated to meh that he couldn’t even bring himself to embrace pepper? Used to be one of the best chefs in the world, is right Chef Luca.

On top of dubious taste (I'm not a food critic but no one can tell me that hamachi and fennel soubise dish tasted anything other than fucked lmao. idc idc), Chef Fields is also one of the clear antagonists in The Bear. Along with Donna Berzatto, he is one of Carmy's two primary abusers. His impact on Carmy was never as clear on the show as it was in season 3. Lets take a closer look at that impact below:

Culinary ancestry and intergenerational trauma

Both Donna and David are ancestors of a kind to Carmy. Donna is clearly a biological ancestor in that she's Carmy's birth mother. I've argued here that David Fields is a culinary ancestor to Carmy. For ease of reference, I'll include my explanation of what I mean when I say "culinary ancestry", from that earlier meta, here:

Most folks understand ancestry to refer to our family or genetic lineage. When I was in university, I learned about intellectual ancestors or genealogy: where one can trace your intellectual lineage - the thinkers and creators that have shaped your understanding of the world and/or your chosen profession. I think its useful to take this concept and apply it to The Bear to help understand what the show is saying about legacy. I wouldn't limit the concept to "intellectual" ancestry though. It might be more helpful to talk about culinary ancestors in this context because the process of creating food - crafting dishes - isn't solely an intellectual exercise. It engages our intellect yes, but also each of our senses, our memories (recall that chocolate banana from 2x10 The Bear), and the need to nurture and be nurtured. Culinary Ancestors Carmy's culinary ancestors are varied given his work history. We know he's cooked under some of the best chefs in the culinary world of The Bear, including: Daniel Boulud (of Daniel), René Redzepi (of NOMA), Thomas Keller (of The French Laundry), David Field (a sociopathic Joel McHale, of Eleven Madison Park Empire), and Andrea Terry (a sublime Olivia Colman, of Ever). I'd also include here Mikey, Donna and Natalie Berzatto. I'd include cousins Richie Jeremovich and Michelle Berzatto as well. These are the home and line cooks Carm grew up with, watched in his mother's kitchen and at The Beef. He took his lessons - the good and the bad, learnt voluntarily and involuntarily - from all of these people, incorporated them into his working self and transmuted them into his food.

NOTE: In "Ancestors and The Bear" and in other meta I've written, I've incorrectly noted that Chef David Fields was the EC at Eleven Madison Park (instead of Empire). This was due to the fact that up until 3x10 Forever, we are not told the name of the restaurant that Fields and Carmy worked at together. In the draft script for the pilot, the restaurant is identified as EMP (Eleven Madison Park) by Sugar (see p 23 of that script), however this appears to have changed to "Empire" during the course of the show's development.

Through the lens of culinary ancestry, there is a clear connection between Carmy's wasteful R&D and menu choices in season 3 with the "lessons" he received under the tutelage of Chef David at Empire. For example, and as discussed above, the refusal to serve any dish that isn't viewed as "perfect" led to extreme amounts of waste at both The Bear and at Empire.

Additionally, Chef David focused on "subtraction" (recall his writing "SUBTRACT" on green tape and sticking it to the expo of Empire in 3x01 Tomorrow) and never repeating ingredients in the dishes that came out of Empire. Instinctually, these two strategies appear to me to be techniques to create needless scarcity. They're attempts at repression in and of themselves. Carmy adopts these philosophies and tries to implement them at The Bear as well. They manifest in his unilaterally overhauling the original menu at The Bear (without Syd's input) as well as his insistence that the menu change every day.

Minimalistic subtraction of elements was also a characteristic of Escoffier's approach to cooking which would be taken even further with the nouvelle cuisine movement in France. That movement focused on minimalistic dishes with fewer seasonings and sauces. Chef David Fields is clearly rooted in the French school of fine dining in this approach.

Subtraction also shows up in the show in a more dire way: in the cutting off of relationships and the whittling away of self.

I recently come across a promo still for The Bear. It features Carmy as the CDC of Empire, plating a dish. I've seen the image before but I never noticed the writing on the wall next to Carmy before. It reads:

"Its only after we've lost everything we're free to do anything"

This quote also appears in the 1999 David Fincher film, Fight Club (which itself is based on the book by the same name by Chuck Palahniuk):

Left: Carmen Berzatto, CDC at Empire in The Bear; right: Tyler Durden, general nihilistic fuckwit in Fight Club, also preaching the gospel of David [Fields].

This ethos, written on the wall and haunting the kitchen at Empire is emblematic of how Chef David operates. It reads like a fucked Psalm, giving a poetic shimmer to Field's abuse. Chef David tears down his staff, verbally degrading them to the point that he has the gall to whisper "you should be dead" to them. (OK. Can we...for a minute...imagine being a manager and that being your management style? Telling your best performing staff that they should be dead? Excuse me, mon cheri? A literal devil).

Chef David literally strips his staff of their dignity and their connections to the outside world. He makes them lose their sense of self and claims its all to make them better chefs. He tells Carmen in 3x10 Forever:

Chef David: So you got rid of all the bullshit, and you concentrated, and you got focused, and you got great. You got excellent.

The parallels between Carmy's experience at Empire - and even in the Berzatto household - and the critique of performative violent masculinity that Fight Club was trying to get across are worth pointing out. In Fight Club, white men beat each other up to try and assert control over a perceived loss of power. At Empire, Chef Fields consistently berates and degrades Carmy, clearly threatened by his CDC's talent. Similarly we have Richie complaining about having to take orders from "toddler" Carmy, saying "I was a baby too once, Syd. Nobody gave a fuck" in 1x02 (which could have been the origin story of any one of the men who joined Brad Pitt/Edward Norton to carry out "Project Mayhem" lmao. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if a lot of the dudes on Reddit fawning over Richie circa seasons 1-2 also watch Fight Club as if it was some sort of aspirational manifesto and not the satire that Fincher intended it to be).

Chef Fields is meant to be representative of a toxicity found in the restaurant industry globally. There have been numerous reports of the physical and psychological violence meted out against kitchen staff by those higher up in the brigade.

Additionally the structure of the French Brigade system is such that those at the bottom - stages - are often expected to work for free. While unpaid internships are common in various lines of work, those industries start to run into trouble when large amounts of their products and services depend on unpaid labour. In fact, darling of The Bear, René Redzepi of Noma faced criticism of his restaurant's unpaid internship program. The internship program was rife with stories of ridiculous working conditions. Redzepi finally began paying interns in 2022 but then announced that Noma would shut down regular service at the end of 2024 due to being unable to afford its staff (at one point, unpaid stages made up almost half of Noma's staff).

The fact that entry into the world of fine dining means people need to work for free as a stage automatically eliminates this as an option for folks who cannot afford to volunteer in order to gain work experience. This would disproportionately impact on certain communities, particularly communities of colour whose members may not have access to sufficient wealth that would allow them to work for free. This is clearly illustrated in The Bear where we see that Carmy has the safety nets and access in place that allow him to stage at various fine dining institutions and gain much sought after experience (e.g. his family's ownership of The Beef and his ability to work there, his cousin Michelle's restaurants in NYC and his access to those spaces). Sydney, Tina, Marcus and even Richie have very different entries into the world of restaurants and fine dining.

The issue of sexual abuse and harassment in the restaurant industry is also very subtly broached in The Bear (though it is more heavily implied in the draft script for 1x01), particularly in 1x07 The Review with Richie accusing Sydney of giving a food critic head in order to get a positive review for her risotto (season 1 Richie was genuinely the worst). But the issue is huge, with more sexual harassment claims filed in the US in the restaurant industry than any other field of work.

Even scrubbing floors by hand and cleaning with a toothbrush, while ensuring sparkling kitchens, have also historically been used as a means of punishment, particularly in institutional settings. During Australia's Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse, there were numerous reports of children in care homes being forced to scrub floors with toothbrushes as a means of physical punishment and control. (CW: the above link discusses accounts of institutional child sexual abuse).

Given the above, its clear to see that the industry - the system - facilitates a whole lot of shit that its workers are subjected to. So when Chef Adam Shapiro catches Sydney as she leaves the train station in 2x04 Violet and asks her how she's doing, her response is telling:

Sydney: It's been a long month [at The Bear].

Chef Adam: Ah. That bad?

Sydney: No, just-- Restaurants.

Chef Adam: Yeah. Right? Why do we do this to ourselves?

Sydney: 'Cause we're crazy.

Chef Adam: Yeah. What was this month's crazy?

Sydney: Um. The kind that's inherited.

Chef Adam: *Nods emphatically* Understood.

This Financial Times article on the dark side of restaurant culture in Copenhagen, sums things up perfectly:

“We always had this joke, an explanation for why things are so horrible: shit falls down,” [Chef Levi] Luna told [the author Imogen West-Knights], with a cold laugh. In the kitchen, the head chef gets mad at the sous-chef, who gets mad at the person below him, a chef-de-partie, who then takes it out on a stagiaire. Then one day, the sous-chef is the head chef, and he has learnt how a head chef behaves: badly. It should give a sense of the strength of feeling I encountered about how damaging this system is that several people independently described it as being like children who are abused going on to commit abuse as adults. This is the dark flipside of the restaurant-as-family metaphor.

Challenging the status quo @ The Bear

By the end of season 3, Carmy appears to recognise that subtraction in his life is not going to bring him happiness. In fact, in 1x08 Braciole, he identified subtraction - specifically, the cutting out of people from his life - as the reason his life got quiet as he grew more isolated. In 3x10 Forever, when he finally confronts Chef David, Carmy laments the psychic and physical impact of Fields' abuse as well as the isolation it engendered. Fields, psychopath that he is, remained unfazed:

Carmen: You gave me ulcers, and panic attacks, and-and nightmares. You--You know that, right? Do you-- Do you understand that?

Chef David: Yeah, I gave you confidence, and leadership, and ability. It fucking worked.

Carmen: My life stopped.

Chef David: That's the point, right?

Additionally, its worth pointing out that despite all the focus on precision, minimalism and (quite frankly) rage being put into the impeccably plated dishes of The Bear, it's the messy, juicy, multi-ingredient filled Italian beef sandwiches that remain the site's best seller. Indeed, in 3x05 Children, Nat tells Carmy that the sandwich window is the only thing at The Bear making any money. So much for subtraction.

We also see Carmy resisting a total acquiescence to Chef David's approach to running a kitchen early on in season 3. His non-negotiables read in the hindsight of the entirety of the series like his attempt at integrating the lessons he’s learned from various kitchens. It’s why the list says “no repeat ingredients” AND “vibrant collaboration”. We know that vibrant collaboration had to come from someone else’s kitchen cos Fields certainly wasn’t collaborating with anyone. That asshole was out there dictating like a fascist.

Additionally, while Carmy has realised the dangers of the fine dining industry by the end of season 3 (and not for the first time - recall in 2x01 The Beef when he called the Michelin star system "a trap"), and while Sydney grapples with her role as an "accomplice" to Carmy's season 3 bullshit, their protégés Tina and Marcus continue to keep the flame of genuine care, collaboration and inspiration alive. This is most clearly seen during the conversation Tina and Marcus have in 3x09 Apologies where they discuss Marcus' mother and his memories of her as well as brainstorm ideas for Tina's cauliflower, brussel sprouts and horseradish dish (please for the love of gad, give us more Tina, Marcus and Ebra next season).

Challenging the status quo in the real world

There are also actual chefs in the real world who appear to be doing something different with their work: embracing their own food cultures that have historically been locked out of the world of fine dining and also trying to run their kitchens in more egalitarian ways.

Above clockwise from top left: Chefs Tim Flores and Genie Kwon of Kasama, Chef Adejoké Bakare of Chishuru, Chef Asma Khan of Darjeeling Express and Chef Mariya Moore-Russell formerly of Kumiko and Kikkō.

The first, most obvious example of this for The Bear fans is Kasama, (shout out to @currymanganese and @thoughtfulchaos773 for introducing me to the above linked, short doco) the Filipino American restaurant founded and run by Chefs Tim Flores and Genie Kwon (who also happen to be married) in Chicago. Kasama is also where Carmy and Syd were meant to have their palate cleansing "reset" in 2x03 Sundae and where Sydney may have also been hit on by fellow Coach K fan, Kasama bae (shout out to @sydcarmyfan for verbalising what I squee-ed about on first watch of this episode lmao).

Both Flores and Kwon come from fine dining backgrounds but appear to challenge some of that industry's basic tenets, including the messianic role of the EC as top of Escoffier's brigade food chain. Flores openly states that his cooking is an ode to his Filipino mother who regularly taste tests his food. In the Nick Cavalier doco linked above, Flores states "if [his mother Lolly Flores] eats [the food] and there's no reference to her dish at all, I'm not doing the right thing." Flores and Kwon also operate Kasama using a hybrid model (that I think would send regimental Escoffier into a tailspin) where they offer fast and casual service featuring Kwon's baked goods during the day and offer a Filipino tasting menu led by Flores for dinner service only. Kasama was awarded a Michelin star in 2023, the first Filipino restaurant in the world to achieve that title. It also took home a James Beard Award that same year.

Note: if you haven't already, have a read of this interview of Tim Flores and Genie Kwon conducted by the Michelin Guide. ISTG Storer and Calo have read this and lifted whole paragraphs for The Bear's script. An excerpt that stood out to me, in particular:

The two first met at Bib Gourmand restaurant GT Fish & Oyster, also in Chicago. "He was leaving as I was starting. So we didn't overlap for very long. But I actually went to eat at the restaurant that he was working at afterwards, and I had one of the best experiences of my life at a tasting menu. And after that we started talking and hanging out, and eventually started dating," recalls Kwon about how she and Flores first met.

Sounds a lot like a couple of Jeffs we know, yes?

Also check out Chef Adejoké Bakare, who in 2024, became only the second Black woman to get a Michelin star in the world (the first being Chicagoan Mariya Moore-Russell who announced in 2020 that she was taking a break from her career for her mental and physical wellbeing and who also...is married to a chef lol). Bakare's restaurant, Chishuru in London, specialises in West African cuisine rooted in Bakare's Yoruba, Igbo and Hausa cultures. Bakare, like Genie Kwon, has a background in biological sciences. She also began her career as a home cook, then ran a fish and chip cart while studying at university in Nigeria. Once she moved to the UK, she ran a supper club and later won the opportunity to run a short term pop up restaurant. During the ceremony where she got her Michelin star, Bakare noted "[i]t did feel rather odd at last night's ceremony that 90% of the room was white middle-aged men. But the passion I see among young women in the industry is such that I'm confident things will change."

Take also Chef Asma Khan, who got her start in the industry as a home cook and then began running supper clubs out of her house in the UK. She then opened up the Darjeeling Express with a group of South Asian women she had met when they were all fairly recent arrivals in the UK, none of whom had formal culinary training. To this day, her kitchen remains fully staffed and run by women.

In this TEDx Talk about her work, Khan says:

"I wanted to cook but I actually wanted to feed people. This gave me the greatest pleasure. I felt at my most powerful when I was able to serve someone something I had cooked. In some ways it was my way of showing affection and love, and being able to give them something that took them home."

Sounds familiar yes? Like a couple of Jeffreys in season 1 of a certain show?

About the systemic sexism in the industry, Khan says:

"But at that time, in England, anywhere in the West, everywhere you looked it was male chefs you saw that was on television [...] in the media. It was always about men who were cooking kitchens. The greatest irony of it all is that [...] in every South Asian home you go to, you will invariably find a woman [cooking] but in every South Asian restaurant you go to, not just in India but in Pakistan, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, almost everywhere in the world, you will usually find a man cooking in the kitchen. And it was a desire for me that I wanted to cook but there was no road or route in front of me."

Khan elaborates further on the skewed and gendered manner in which elite fine dining operates, in this article:

“There is no public hanging [in her restaurant]. Male chefs have made cooking into a combat sport. I think it’s a reaction to the idea that cooking is feminine: I’m not the dinner lady! I’m not your grandmother! Sorry, but if you’re constantly screaming at staff it means you’ve trained them badly.”

Khan is describing the hyper-competitive nature of fine dining (and her suspicion that in a highly gendered industry that is populated by majority men, that there is a need to perform a hypermasculinity in order to put distance between themselves and the historically feminine-gendered roots of the act of cooking) and how Khan wanted no part of it, for herself, her staff or her patrons. In this Guardian article, Khan points her attention directly at the toxic work cultures of many fine dining institutions:

Khan sees herself as a vital heckler on the sidelines of the industry, rather than part of its elite club of star chefs. She is especially scathing of a macho restaurant culture that has allowed workplace bullying and abuse to become normalised – and of those who enable it.

“My deep concern during the pandemic is seeing very prominent people with considerable wealth remove the entire workforce without a safety net.” A surge of restaurant and pub workers were reported to be sleeping rough in central London in April, a fact Khan can’t shake. “It is so shameful, my heart bleeds for the industry, it is immoral. I don’t want restaurants to be ranked by Michelin stars for the fluff and edible herbs they put on a plate. I want to know how they treat their people, they should be ranked on that. Where there is bullying and racism, where there is sexual harassment, where staff don’t feel safe, people should boycott those restaurants. I don’t want to see them prosper.”

Honestly, after reading some of the horror stories about work place practices in the restaurant industry, I'm with Khan. I'm also with Flores, Kwon, Bakare and Moore-Russell. I reckon Storer and Calo are also with these folks too and that we're going to see a shift in season 4 of The Bear that reflects the larger industrial change in the world of fine dining that chefs like these are heralding.

The death of fine dining

Above: Carmy's phone in 3x05 Children

Like @freedelusionshere says here, I don't think its a suprise that season 3 ended with Ever's funeral. The fine dining of Empire and even Ever is dead. How can it not be given the way its been largely running to date, as discussed above? How can it not be when we are living in a time of severe food insecurity precipitated by runaway consumerism and the twin existential threats of global climate and extinction crises. How can anyone in good conscience justify charging exorbitant amounts of money on a plate that is not going to fill patron's bellies while there are communities worldwide who do not have enough food to feed their children? When some communities, even in so-called "first world" countries like America and Australia cannot access clean drinking water?

Truly, the argument for fine dining posited by Will Guidara in 3x10 Forever made me (and I'm sure many others) actually cringe.

There's nobility in this. [...] We can give them the grace, if only for a few hours, to forget about their most difficult moments. Like, we can make the world a nicer place. All of us in this room. We have this opportunity, perhaps even a responsibility, to create our own little magical worlds in a world that is increasingly in need of a little more magic.

There *is* nobility in nurturing people, in feeding them. But in a time of the multiple and rolling, global existential crises, where particular communities are being targeted not just for marginalisation but whole scale eradication, this is not a time for more "magic"; particularly when those "little magical worlds" are reserved for the select few who can afford them. We don't need more holes to bury our heads in. We need real spaces of care that are accessible, kind (read: not nice, but kind. there is a big difference) and nurturing. And those spaces need to be those things not just for the patrons who visit them but also for the staff who work there.

There is also literally no time for escapism, at least not of the kind that late stage capitalism promotes and as described by Guidara in 3x10. We are living at a time where food systems are said to make up one third of all greenhouse gas emissions, pushing the climate crisis further to the point of no return. What's the point of making magic worlds to escape an actual world on the brink? And while your magic-making contributes to the brink getting closer? Its like putting lipstick on a pig.

Indeed some have posited that it was the British Empire's remaking of the world to feed Britain (which we've looked at briefly above) that has been the single biggest contributor to the current environmental crises facing our planet. The Bear acknowledges the issue as well. Recall 2x04 Violet when Tina visits Jerry at the farmers' market and his explanation for why he has so little produce to sell:

Jerry: There's fewer and fewer moths to grow vegetables now, and 'cause of that, there's fewer and fewer farms. Used to be you could come down here, buy everything you needed for a full menu. All in one spot. Whatever grows together, goes together.

The reason there are fewer months to grow vegetables is because of climate change which has impacted on everything to season length, groundwater and rainfall levels (as the two main sources for global farming irrigation) and increased periods of drought and heatwave.

So whats next for The Bear?

Season 3 put us through the ringer with Carmy replicating toxic practices in his restaurant that are rife in the industry at large. Yes, Carmy also has mental health issues and is a survivor of multiple sources of trauma. We know this. I've talked about this at length here and here. But he's also a guy who's running his own business with folks who are dependent on their place of work for their livelihoods. As such, he, Nat and Uncle Jimmy (as co-owners of The Bear) have responsibilities to their staff.

As EC at The Bear who is directly responsible for managing BOH, Carmy has a choice to make about whether he "blows his trauma through" (shout out to Dr Resmaa Menakem and his book My Grandmother's Hands) the bodies of those closest to him, including the crew at The Bear. Just as parents have to work on themselves so that they don't replicate harmful patterns of behaviour in raising their children, so too do we all in our daily relationships, including where many of us adults spend most of our waking lives: at work.

Like Richie observed, Carmy is not integrated in season 3 but neither is the industry in which he's working. A menu that constantly changes, wasteful food practices, a food production and agricultural industry that contributes to a third of global greenhouse gas emissions leading to increased global warming. These things are absolutely not integrated. In many ways, Carmy's mental state in season 3 - anxious, agitated, exhausted, is a reflection of the times. Given all of the above, Carmy's "I'm so fucking sick of this" in 3x09 Apologies hits me harder in the chest. Yes Carmy, you should be. Now go do something about it.

Having looked at the career trajectories of a few talented, conscientious chefs in the course of writing this meta, I think its pretty clear that the old way of running restaurants a la Chef David Fields is over. As we sit at the precipice of climate disaster, watching multiple genocides unfolding at once, during a time of massive food insecurity, who the hell has time to be suffering in the way Chef David made his employees feel in the course of making food that is meant to nourish people? What fucking cognitive dissonance is required to continue on THAT kind of a path?

Come season 4, I reckon we are going to see a massive shift in the trajectory of The Bear. This will be precipitated by multiple things (like the review Carmy got at the end of 3x10 and whatever the fuck Uncle Jimmy is up to with that box and those golf clubs lol) but most significantly, by a realisation on Carmy's part that his version of Michelin mode IS NOT IT.

I reckon Carmy and Sydney are going to continue to work together but they'll go back to the original plan they made with one another in 1x08 Braciole. They're going to go back to family style. They're going to treat their staff better (after Carmy apologises lol). They're going to shift from wasteful, haute cuisine to sustainable food practices that support producers and the planet more broadly. They're going to leave Chef David Fields' scare tactic of subtraction behind and lean into using more pepper.

Above: Sydney's notebook as she workshops a recipe at home in 1x08 Braciole.

Tagging: @moodyeucalyptus @currymanganese @hwere @freedelusionshere @thoughtfulchaos773 @ambeauty @brokenwinebox @devisrina @espumado @fresaton @kdbleu @vacationship @birdiebats @bootlegramdomneess @mitocamdria @tvfantic87 @angelica4equity @anxietycroissant @turbulenthandholding @yannaryartside @afrofairysblog @ciaomarie

cos you may be interested but as always, I'd love to chat to whoever wants to about this stuff!

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cuverale · 2 years ago

Note

can you do a insta au w gracie abrams as the face claim! any story line u want 💓

a/n: hope you like it! someone asked me to make an insta au about these rumors and I mixed it with this i hope you don’t mind! i’ll make second part for this.

Face claim: Gracie Abrams

part two

my girl - t.c

rollingstone

liked by iansomerhalder, emmaroberts, henrycavill and 10,593,105 others

rollingstone we are back with our favorite lady yourusername!!! we had an amazing conversation (some questions we asked might be what you wondered 👀) don’t forget to check it out! Link in bio.

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yourusername 🩶

*liked by rollingstone

ynmybaby MY GIRLLLL

username994 wowza ❤️‍🔥

yourfan385 my girl looks so fine!!!!!

ynsbabygirl can’t believe timothee prefered some plastic over this masterpiece

randomuser wait what?? They broke up?!?!

yourfan593 yeah they broke up 2 weeks ago and now he is rumored to be dating kylie jenner since january. If that’s true that means timothee cheated on her

timmytimmy he would never do that

ynsbabygirl well, he would never date kylie too right? but now entertainmenttonight says they’re officially dating 🤷🏼‍♀️

kissmeyn mommy 🥵

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ynlndaily

2,395,275 likes

ynlndaily I really didn’t want to believe he would do something like that but idk if I can defend him anymore.

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username560 I can’t believe it

timmyfan04 This is just a PR but they’re talking badly about timmy :(

username94729 well, he shouldn’t let that happen then

tchalmtfann I won’t believe this shit until there is a valid proof or some pictures of them together

randomuser noooooooo

ynsbabygirl idk if this is true but if it is that means Y/n made the right decision

timmytimmy pls tell me this is a joke

timmyfan3 Timmy nooo

yourfan0 he looks like her son💀

ynmybaby I just watched Rolling Stone interview. They asked about her relationship with Timmy and she said they ended it on good terms, she said “We didn’t break up for any dramatic reasons, we were so busy with our careers and we didn’t have time for each other and the relationship wasn’t going well because of that so we decided to end it. We still care for each other.”

username59275 istg these celebs always break up for being so busy for relationship. Give me the real reason!!

kissmeyn yes you’re right about that but Y/n always explained why did she break up with all of her exes, she never lied once so you don’t have any right to say that for her

username59275 yeah, you’re right i guess

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tchalametdaily

1,494,285 likes

tchalametdaily Timothée spotted in New York, filming a commercial for Chanel directed by Martin Scorsese.

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timmytimmy OH MY GOD 🥵

tchalafann mom, your girl is in love with this man

calametfan5 🛐

timotheefan15 GUYSSS THERE IS A VIDEO ON TIKTOK! A FAN YELLS “TIMMY ARE YOU REALLY DATING KYLIE” AND HE SAID NO!!!!

timmytea WAIT WHAT

randomuser I NEED THAT VIDEO RN

timotheefan15 I’m sending you the link!!

username594 ME TOO PLS

timotheefan15 sure!

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enews

7,495,395 likes

enews After a video by jessielyn_ on TikTok went viral, everyone talks about newly ended relationship these two shared. Since Timothée still follows her on Instagram (he only follows one person and that’s her) and likes some of her posts, the fans are still hopeful for them.

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yourusername

liked by tchalamet, johnnydepp, kidcudi and 13,395,296 others

yourusername So ready for you Coachella!

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ynmybaby I’M SO GLAD I HAVE A CHANCE TO SEE YOU MY GIRL!!! I’M SO EXCITED

yourusername I’ll be waiting hon 💋

ynmybaby KDJFSKJDKSJD AHHHHH 😩😩😩

yourfan385 SO EXCITED

florencepugh go girl!!!!!

pauline.chalamet ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

kissmeyn i love you so much it hurts 😭

timmytimmy you look stunning!!!!

tchalafann I wonder if Timmy will be there, he said he will definitely come before they broke up :/

randomuser what if he shows up with kylie 🤯

timotheefan494 he literally said he wasn’t dating her

randomuser oh right!

zendaya THAT’S MY GIRL

hero_ft you’re the reason I’m attending Coachella this year

henrycavill same.

username5947294 HENRY IS ATTENDING COACHELLA?????????

yourfan0 I WASN’T EXPECTING THIS AT ALL WHAAATTT

random_username THIS IS TOO MUCH 😭

tomholland2013 Let’s gooo!!!!

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tchalamet’s story

#timothée chamalet #timothee chamalet #x reader #instagram au #timothee chalamet x reader #celebrity reader #timothee chalamet #timothee x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee x y/n #smau #timmy chalamet #timothee chalamet social media au #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet x you #timothee x you

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ayyy-pee · 7 months ago

Text

𝔼𝕡𝕚𝕤𝕠𝕕𝕖 𝟘.𝟝 - 𝕋𝕠𝕠 𝕄𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕥𝕠 𝔻𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕜

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Next Episode

Pairing: JJK Men x Female Reader

Episode Summary: After a drunken night of binge watching your (least?) favorite show, you find yourself making a grave mistake.

STORY TWIST: READERS WILL VOTE AFTER CERTAIN CHAPTERS TO CHOOSE WHO GETS A ROSE AND MAKES IT TO THE NEXT WEEK. KEEP A LOOKOUT FOR THE VOTING LINK AT THE END OF CHAPTERS

Story Warning: DRAMA, lying and scheming, REVERSE HAREM, profanity bc I can only be me, arguments, fights probably, heartbreak and tears, (more to come)

Artist Credit: momoya348, Umbra3terna, ilameys,maoyaoyao519, _0_0219 Divider Credit: Cafekitsune (Tumblr)

A/N: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEE! I hope you guys enjoy this ride (that you're in charge of in later chapters!!!) I'll put up Episode 1 tomorrow after proofreading!!! <3

“God, this show is so stupid,” you mutter, shoving a handful of popcorn into your mouth while you get settled onto the couch.

“Please…It’s so bad, but I tune in to every season.”

You glance over when your friend reaches into your lap and dips her fingers into your bowl of popcorn and grabs a few kernels.

That was the perfect way to describe what was happening now. You’re currently huddled up on the couch, having spent the day binging the most recent season of The Bachelor until you’re all caught up. The new episode airs tonight and you’re eager to see who Joey ends up picking. Will it be Rachel? She’s gorgeous, funny, and her family seems to really get along with this season’s Bachelor. They have great chemistry. Or maybe it will be Daisy? Though you couldn’t see that working out. The girl is a total bore. Or it could be…what’s her name again? The one who looks a little bit like she could be his sister. Ah, whatever.

You’re not sure when you really began to even give a shit about this mess of a show. It’s corny. No one falls in love within a few weeks of knowing each other. And why does one man or woman need to date twenty people to find someone to marry? Are they that unlikeable in the real world? Not to mention, it’s totally unrealistic. Do these relationships even work out once the cameras cut off? Unlikely. You find the entire premise of the show downright stupid.

And yet, you can’t tear your eyes away as this season’s Bachelor takes each girl out on an extravagant date that…you can’t lie, you would love to be on.

Dancing in Malta? Sunbathing on a yacht off the coast of Spain? Getting to see Niagara Falls up close? Sign you up. You don’t think you would stand a chance being the object of everyone’s affection, but you could definitely milk being a contestant for free trips and good food.

“Why can’t he see that Rachel is the best pick here? Ugh, annoying. You know he’s going to give what’s-her-name the last rose.” Your friend downs her wine in one swig and you don’t bother to hold back the laugh bubbling in your chest. She’s all red faced. You’re not sure if it’s from how passionate she is about the show or from the two empty bottles of merlot she’s managed to down practically on her own, but the glowing hue it gives her highlights the thick scar across her face. A product of her line of work, and said line of work being the reason she’s guzzling wine in the first place.

“Maybe take it easy on the drinks, Utahime.”

She hiccups next to you, slouching in her seat. “I haven’t even had that much to drink!”

“You’ve had most of the wine just on your own!”

“Oh my god, you have one or nine glasses of wine and suddenly you’re wasted,” she mutters sarcastically. “I’m fine.”

You roll your eyes, because you know there’s no going back and forth with her stubborn ass when she starts drinking.

The living room dims for about three seconds before it lights back up, the show now having gone on commercial break. The rose ceremony is next and despite shit-talking the show only ten minutes ago, you’re eager for the commercials to wrap up so you can see who goes home. It better not be Rachel. You use this brief intermission to go and get some water for yourself but mostly Utahime so she can sober up.

This has been your routine for the last few weeks. Every Monday night, Utahime comes over, peels you out of your bed and forces you on the couch to chug alcohol and watch this ridiculous show. While you find the entire premise of the show nonsensical, you’re grateful for the time it’s given you with Utahime.

You’re fairly new to the Kyoto area and Utahime was the first person you’d met on your first day at your new – how can you put this? – unique job. You see, you and Utahime both work in the field of Jujutsu sorcery. But there’s about where your similarities in the field stop.

Utahime is an active Sorcerer. She’s an instructor raising up the next generation of Sorcerers, building them up so that they can one day join the frontlines to protect the unaware non-Sorcerers of Japan. She’s strong– a grade 1 Sorcerer. Quite impressive. She could easily knock a curse’s head off if she wanted to.

But you? Well, while Utahime is at the top of the ranks of Jujutsu society, you are what some would refer to as a bottomfeeder – an unranked, unimportant, lowly Window. You’re someone who has just enough cursed energy to see a curse. But can you do anything about them? Not unless you want to end up in the nearest trauma center. So if you’re smart, you’ll do your job and whip your phone out to report it so that the real Sorcerers can handle it.

You’ve been in this field for several years now, but working outside of the major cities of Japan. Transferring to Kyoto was your idea of wanting something new and different. Utahime had quickly taken you under her wing. You were certain it was because she took pity on you. A weak, barely gifted Window. But as time went on, you came to realize that that was just Utahime. She was kind and funny, and had a good heart. Well, except when it came to –

“Hey!” Utahime calls from her spot on the couch. You can hear a slur in her words as she speaks and you know she’s opened yet another bottle of wine from who knows where. “Come here! Look at this!” You peer at the television from the doorway of your kitchen and see Utahime has it paused on a very ugly ad. It’s bright white with a background full of red rose petals across the screen. Your eyes roam over the words.

“THE SEARCH IS ON FOR THE ELIGIBLE WOMEN WHO ARE READY TO FIND TRUE LOVE! DO YOU OR SOMEONE YOU KNOW HAVE THE CHARM, STYLE, AND PERSONALITY TO BE OUR NEXT STAR? IF SO, APPLY OR NOMINATE SOMEONE NOW!”

“Will you hurry up? Come look!” Utahime demands, messily pouring more wine into her glass. But it looks like a normal advertisement to you, so you’re not entirely sure what has Utahime’s interest so piqued.

She beckons you again, yelling “Come here!” So you quickly grab a couple bottles of water from your fridge and head back. Utahime is pointing insistently at the screen. “Look. Look really hard.”

You follow the path where her finger points, shuffling closer to the t.v. to get a clearer look. It takes a moment for you to see it, like really see it, but it’s definitely there. Underneath the last line, hidden from the eyes of those unable to see the horrors that you and those like Utahime can, is another message. You fall to your knees, eyes glued to the tiny additional message floating beneath, glowing with cursed energy that reads, “JUJUTSU SorcererS PREFERRED”.

Confusion slowly takes over your features, the corners of your lips turning down with a frown, a brow arched and skepticism in your eyes. Were you missing something? Was this some sick joke? Were Jujutsu Sorcerers huge fans of The Bachelor or something? You spin around to face your friend who has a look of mischief twinkling in her eyes. You know it all too well, mouth falling open and a finger pointing when you scream “NO” at the exact moment Utahime yells “YOU SHOULD APPLY!”

“Absolutely not!” You must be looking at Utahime like she’s grown two more heads because she looks just as confused as you.

“Why not?! You’d be great on there!”

Maybe she hasn’t grown two more heads. Maybe her brain was swapped while you were in the kitchen because why the hell was she suggesting this?

“Well, for starters, I’m not really looking to date.”

Utahime rolls her eyes, as if that’s just not a good enough excuse. You should just ignore her, snatch the remote from her hand and hit play so you can get back to the show and see who this guy chooses to potentially get engaged to. But for some reason (could be the single drop of wine your friend allowed you to have while she downed the rest), you feel the need to keep listing off reasons to not sign up. “Secondly, I– why would I even want to go on this show?”

Utahime sips her wine, eyes low as she falls into her drunkenness, but you can still see the sparkle of mischief in those brown hues…and it scares you. So you keep talking, chatting away and listing excuse after excuse to your friend, eventually finding yourself back on the couch trying to drive your final point home.

“Besides, they want Sorcerers.” This seems to get Utahime’s attention again, makes her set her glass down as she looks at you.

“I’m sure it’s fine. You are a Sorcerer.”

“I’m a Window.”

“Semantics. You can see curses, can’t you?” Utahime argues.

“...yes.” You shift uncomfortably in your seat. “But I can’t do anything about them.”

It’s not something you should be ashamed of, but there’s just the tiniest bit of you that is ashamed. Because being able to see these monsters and not having the power to do anything about them…well, it feels like a curse in and of itself.

To this, she sighs. “Sorcerers, Windows. They’re just terms used by the higher-ups to keep their stupid, fucked up heirarchy intact.”

You know it’s the wine that’s loosened her tongue. In public, Utahime would not dare to speak so freely. The Jujutsu politics in Kyoto were a lot stricter than they were in Tokyo. Not that that said much anyway. The politics were shit regardless. But Utahime worked closely with those connected to the higher-ups, so outside of this little bubble in your apartment, she kept pretty hush hush about her true feelings.

You watch Utahime closely as she fiddles with her wine glass. She really is beautiful. You think she’d be incredible on a show like this. Which gives you the idea.

“What don’t you apply?”

Utahime leans back, a cackle so loud and abrupt leaving her tiny body.

“No way. I would never date any of these Sorcerers.”

“And you want me to?!” You ask incredulously. You don’t know whether to be offended or not.

Your friend fixes you with a deadpan stare. “You don’t know them the way I do. The only good one out of all of them is Nanami Kento…and Shoko.” She mutters the last name quietly, like it’s a secret that she thinks so highly of her. And maybe it is a secret…the way she feels about the doctor in Tokyo who you couldn’t help but notice has Utahime’s cheeks glowing red whenever she’s mentioned.

“Besides,” Utahime continues. “If I signed up for this and got paired with Gojo –” she shudders at the mere thought of being near the man. “I don’t think I’d be able to keep myself from projectile vomiting just at the prospect of having to kiss him.”

It’s your turn to laugh obnoxiously now, because – “Why the hell would the strongest Sorcerer in a thousand years sign up for this shit? You don’t think he has anything better to do? Like, you know…keep all of Japan safe?”

“Satoru Gojo does whatever Satoru Gojo wants.”

You can’t argue with that. Utahime would know best. She did grow up with him after all. She knew him well. You’ve never met the man, being just a Window, you doubt you ever will. Out of all the Sorcerers, you’ve only ever met Utahime and Principal Gakuganji. You’ve never even met any of the students. You all run in different circles, but that doesn't mean you don’t keep up with the going-ons of the Jujutsu world. Everyone knows Satoru Gojo.

“You should really sign up, though,” Utahime suggests once more. “You might meet a good person. If anything, you’ll get a good vacation out of it.” With that, she stands. It’s clear that the wine is hitting her again, because she wobbles clumsily to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

If it’s anything like every other week before this, you’ll be peeling Utahime out of your bathtub because she will have inevitably fallen asleep.

Your eyes fall back on the hidden message on the television, reading it over and over before you finally just hit play and let the finale finish.

Joey chooses whatever that girl’s name is. You’re only halfway paying attention because against your better judgment, you’re actually thinking about applying to this. But you think the show is stupid, right? Why would you waste your time? But what if Utahime is right? What if you do meet someone? It’s not that you’re against dating. You’re just not actively in the market for romance because you’ve found that dating non-Sorcerers is more stress than it’s worth.

The constant obligation you feel to regulate their emotions so you can avoid the creation of a cursed spirit that you’ll have to call in and do paperwork for? Exhausting. Not to mention, if you ever grew to truly love this person, you’d be overwhelmed with guilt if a curse manifested and harmed them in any way and you couldn’t do anything but watch in horror as you made a phone call.

You’d never really given any thought to it, but perhaps dating a Sorcerer is what you needed. You could end up meeting an amazing man!

But also, semantics or not, you were not technically a Sorcerer. You were simply a Window. Why the hell would an actual Sorcerer want to be with you? Better yet, what were the chances of this show even choosing you as their next Bachelorette?

- - - - - -

Apparently, the chances were extremely high, because one phone call, four video interviews, a nearly five hour drive from Kyoto to Tokyo, and days of promotional video and photo shoots later, you find yourself standing outside of the Bachelor Mansion, donning the most expensive gown that money could buy.

This is not what you expected. Not at all. There is so much going on. You want to run and hide from every single camera you see being propped up. You want to curl into yourself when the lights come on and the director calls, “Action!” And you see some man you’re just meeting for the first time approaching as he speaks directly to the camera.

“...and she’ll be making history tonight as The Bachelorette’s first Jujutsu Sorcerer,” you hear him tell the camera as he stops just a few feet short of you. Tall, blonde and handsome. He looks like an American football player. “I’m Jesse Palmer, ladies and gentleman. Now, let’s meet our Bachelorette!”

He turns to you, wearing a bright smile. The cameras follow, moving closer to catch a close-up of your face, so you smile as naturally as you can and try not to flinch when Jesse moves forward to embrace you in a swift hug.

Jesse calls your name as though you’ve been friends for a long time. “So nice to finally see you. You look great.”

The camera pans down your body and back up to your face. “Likewise, Jesse.”

“How’re you feeling?” he asks.

“I’m nervous! Definitely nervous, but feeling good! I’m so excited for this,” you lie. You’re dreading this process. But it’s too late to back out now. So you just hold your smile, conversing politely as Jesse makes small talk and gets to know you before the first contestant pulls up.

And you hope that if Utahime is watching, she sees the message behind your eyes screaming that you’re absolutely going to kill her.

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