#i really miss chicago sometimes

[fruitgoat]

It is 1000% @copperbadge 's fault that I just re-downloaded the Ventra app on my phone. I mean, I don't technically NEED it for a trip I'm not physically taking. But once I've figured out the route, it might be fun to play along in real time.

It's also Sam's fault I'm going to add a hop-on-hop-off tour bus to my route. Because it's really funny. Still undecided on Metra. Milwaukee North and West were the Metra lines I used when I lived there. If I'm basing the trip on nostalgia rather than practicality.....

[steddieas-shegoes]

for @thefreakandthehair (and @vecnuthy and @wormdebut while we’re at it) because sometimes you help a baseball player through French class so they can stay on the team and then they end up on the Savannah bananas and you decide to put the fictional men into situations about it *shrugs*

Eddie was going to have to transfer out of this class. This was one of his easiest classes and it was filled with every jock on campus attempting to fill their foreign language requirement with French.

And they were all failing. And annoying. And obnoxious.

And a few of them were also hot.

But Eddie wasn’t gonna focus on that!

He was gonna finish today’s assignment and then head straight to the advising office to find another class that worked with his work schedule.

“Hey,” the guy next to him whispered as the teacher droned on about conjugating verbs. “Do you have any idea what the fuck the homework was?”

Eddie turned to glare at the person, but his face dropped when he noticed who it was.

The campus celebrity: Steve Harrington.

Couldn’t quite make it on the college baseball team, but managed to make the sort-of professional, but mostly joke team Hawkins Hooligans.

Eddie didn’t like sports, never had. He could appreciate that it took skill and whatnot, but he didn’t care much to watch it or make celebrities of people who were just really good at one very specific thing usually involving some kind of ball. But he could appreciate a joke. And this team had jokes.

Steve was actually apparently good enough to play pro, had even been scouted by the MLB his senior year of high school. One week before his professional tryout, he tore a muscle in his shoulder, had to sit for three months and had to do physical therapy for another three, and voila! No pro ball for him. No college either since he missed spring training.

But he still had skill, and he still had a father with a lot of pull in the business, even if it wasn’t quite enough to get him on the Yankees or whatever.

So he was biding his time on the Hooligans until next year when he could try out for the college team again, maybe increase his chances of a real pro career.

Eddie definitely hadn’t watched videos of him during their first few games of the season where they faced the Indy Idols and the Chicago Charades.

He definitely hadn’t gotten a weird flutter in his stomach when Steve had been the one to lip sync to Hot For Teacher while pretending his bat was a guitar.

He definitely didn’t have a crush on Steve.

“Uh. Dude?” Steve asked him again, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah. It was the study guide for the first quiz. Not due until next class though,” he whispered back.

“Oh. Thanks.”

Eddie turned his attention back to the professor, not really needing to pay attention since he already knew quite a bit of French.

A tap on his shoulder made him yelp, and the entire room turned to him. He waved apologetically before turning to Steve with a murderous look.

“What?” He hissed out.

“Do you understand this?”

“Yes and you probably would too if you stopped talking to me.”

Eddie was ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to let Steve keep talking to him for as long as he wanted.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Steve huffed before sitting back in his seat and folding his arms across his chest. He mumbled something else that sounded like ‘I’m just stupid’ but Eddie couldn’t be 100% sure.

“A lot of this stuff is just English spelled a little differently.” Eddie sighed. “You could almost definitely figure it out if you took some notes.”

“Yeah, probably.”

Eddie’s brows scrunched together as he glanced at Steve’s red face.

Hm. There was definitely something to unpack here.

“You can borrow mine if you want,” Eddie offered as he watched the professor switch slides on the presentation. “I don’t really need them until the final.”

“Oh!” Steve sounded genuinely surprised by his offer, like he hadn’t been basically asking for help only a moment ago. “You don’t have to do that. I mean, it wouldn’t do much good for me anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Steve had Eddie’s full attention now.

“I’m. I-“ Steve sighed. “I’m dyslexic, man. Reading’s hard for me.”

Well, fuck. Eddie felt like an asshole now.

“Oh.” Eddie looked down at his scribbled notes, cringing at the thought of someone else trying to read them, let alone someone who already struggled with reading from a printed page. “Yeah, my handwriting is shit so it’d probably be useless to you. Shit, it’s almost useless to me.”

Steve snorted, immediately covering his mouth to avoid any more noise from escaping. Eddie could see he was still smiling though. His eyes were very expressive.

“Don’t you have accommodations?” Eddie asked him.

“Nah, my dad doesn’t believe it’s a problem.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Said I just need to focus more and it’ll ‘work itself out.’”

“He sounds like he’s a lot of fun at parties.”

Steve snorted again. “Yeah, a blast.”

“So you aren’t a natural at French?”

Steve shook his head. “I’m barely a natural at English.”

“I could help you?” Eddie was an idiot. An idiot with a crush on someone who would never be interested in anything he had to offer except tutoring.

“Help me? You’d help me?” Steve seemed eager, maybe a little desperate.

Eddie kinda liked that.

“I mean, yeah. If you’re actually willing to put in the work and not expect me to just do the work for you.”

Steve smiled. God, that was a nice smile. Eddie was absolutely fucked.

“I work well with a reward system,” he smirked. “If you’re willing.”

Eddie’s eyes widened momentarily as the realization sunk in that he’d just been flirted with.

By Steve Harrington.

“Oh, I can definitely work with that.”

Steve nodded once, grinned at Eddie as he picked up his pen and ripped off a small piece of his unused notebook paper. He scribbled something down and folded it once before handing it to Eddie.

“Let me know when I need to show up, Eds.”

Eddie unfolded the paper and nearly dropped it.

Stevie H. 555-555-0086 My dorm at 7? No clothes required

When Eddie looked back up, Steve was facing the front, seemingly paying attention to the lecture.

Eddie quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and put Steve’s contact info in. He could wait until after class to send him a text. He could.

Instead, he typed out something quick to hold them both over until later.

Studying naked is my favorite thing 😉

Steve’s knee nudged against his in response.

Maybe Eddie wouldn’t take that trip to advising after all.

And if he was featured on the next TikTok for the Hawkins Hooligans, with Steve fake serenading him in the stands, nobody had to know he didn’t really like sports.

He liked Steve, though. Even when Steve actually managed to play real competitive baseball. Even when Steve managed to get a spot on the Cubs.

Especially when Steve proposed to him during a game in maybe the worst recorded French of all time.

[bouncybongfairy]

Hello! Could I request some dark smut with Lip? I can also be more specific if you'd like! No worries if you don't want to write it! Also I just found your blog and love your writing! 💕

Fucked Back Into Reality

Lip Gallagher x Fem Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend Lip, hadn't talked to you in a couple of days. After having several conversations about this reoccuring problem, you decied to give him the cold shoulder. He reminds you why doing this is a riskey game.

Word Count: 2.0k+

TW: Rough Smut, Brat Kink, Masocism.

Ref Account: @kaionyx

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It’s a bitterly cold day in Chicago’s south side. The type of cold where everyone at school is more concerned about staying warm than fashion. You were walking to school, both your parents left for work before you woke up. The school was too close to home for bus services so walking was really the only option. After trying to get in touch with Lip for the past two days, you were now on strike from being nice to him. You weren’t ignorant, Lip had a lot going on at home which meant his undivided attention was rare. Sometimes you wished he would just shoot you a text like: hey super busy day, love you / shits been crazy, talk to you when i can. Having this conversation in the past, you weren’t going to bother having it again. It surprised you to see Lip sitting on the front steps of the school; early which he never was. You started walking up the steps, he stood up and flicked his cigarette bud into the snow. 

“Hey,” he said, you just looked at him and kept walking to your locker. 

“Oh come one, you’re ignoring me?” he asked, leaning up against the mental lockers as you emptied your things into the locker. 

“Seems familiar doesn’t it,” you say, referencing him not reaching out for the past couple days. 

“Yeah but mine was accidental not bratty,” he chuckled. Maybe it was because you haven't eaten or smoked that morning but that comment enraged you. Slamming your locker and walking toward first period, leaving him in the hall. 

Just your luck to have chemistry as the first class of the day. The teacher took 20 minutes to calm the class down. Kids play fighting with each other or flirting in the back of the room. Groups of students in their cliques, not paying any mind to the instructions given. You felt bad for the teacher, I'm sure she thought an education career would help so many teens. Only to be placed in one of the most poorly funded schools in the state. You didn’t feel too bad though, it only meant less work for you. Lip liked the fact that you cared about your grades, that you had a plan after highschool. As stupid as Lip was acting, you also liked how smart he was. You complained about it alot but you liked how he didn’t fall for your little tricks and games. He doesn’t chase you, or let you push him over. Most guys were just so emotionally unintelligent, not to mention Lip was more mature when it came to sex. The last couple guys you were with didn’t even talk while you fucked. Didn’t know what foreplay was or understand a woman's body. Lip had a really good understanding of when to be gentle or rough. When he would whisper things in your ear it always felt so natural and smooth. There were times when your stomach would randomly flip when thinking about the nasty things he’d told or done to you. Maybe part of the reason you had some animosity towards Lip was because you had been sexually frustrated. For the past couple weeks you felt like you were practically throwing yourself at him and he wasn’t in the mood. Of course you respected that, you just missed him was all; maybe a specific part of him. At lunch he came up to you from behind and hugged you. Still feeling quite stubborn, you allowed it but acted like you didn’t care. 

“You still mad?” he whispers into your ear which makes your skin break out with goosebumps. He slides his hands down from your waist to your hips.

“I know we haven’t talked but I’m here now, let’s ditch for the rest of the day,” he said, pressing his lips against your neck. As much as you wanted to give in and agree, you still wanted to make a point. Pushing his hands away, you grab your backpack and walk away without acknowledging him. If he wanted to brand you as a brat then you’d give him his money's worth. 

It was the last period, and everyone was waiting for the bell to ring. Some kids just left when they were ready and the teacher didn’t care. He just sat there, staring with cold dead eyes at his computer. Daren was consistently trying his best to spark conversation with you, all he talked about was how he ran track but he was trying his best. The heaters were blasting inside the school because it was snowing. The classroom windows were wet with condensation which made you feel sticky. Becoming overstimulated you decide to leave early, excusing yourself and walking out. Daren followed you into the hallway, 

“Hey I was wondering if you wanted to stay after school and watch me practice? Maybe I can take you out after, or something?” he asks. 

“Oh sorry I can't. I actually have a ton of homework so, maybe next time?” you say walking away, happy that you’re avoiding the rush of people flooding out the front gates. 

Normally Lip would walk you home but you didn’t see him. Your willpower that was fueling your grudge was weakening. Pulling your phone out of your pocket and seeing if he texted you; he didn’t. Looking back you were feeling silly about your actions because look where they led you. It was really cold, snow sticking to your hair and eyelashes. Once you finally got home, Lip was waiting on the porch which took you by surprise. You went to greet him, this is when you noticed he looked angry. He didn’t even say anything to you, even after opening the door and letting the both of you in. 

“How’s Daren?” he asks, once you both get to your bedroom. 

“What?” you asked confused. 

“Well you talked to him all last period and even after you left,” he said, sitting on your bed and lighting a cig. 

“Okay first of all, I only talk to him for like two seconds. He asked me to watch him practice and I said no,” you defend yourself. 

“That’s two seconds more than you talked to me today,” he remarked. 

“Lip that’s not even fair,” you say, which made him smirk and shake his head as he took a drag. 

“Do you even hear yourself? ‘tHat’s nOt fAiR’ whining like a baby who didn’t get their way. Why were you so offended that I called you a brat even though you’re acting just like one,” he said.

“What are you trying to scare me?” you ask while laughing.

“Trying?” he asked rhetorically. 

You rolled your eyes and started to change into comfortable clothes. While you were only in your bra and underwear, Lip came behind you and ripped the lace material of the panties. You gasp and go to turn around but he presses you against the closet door. Intertwining his hand into your hair, gripping it so tight strands of hair were being pulled out. His dick was extremely hard and feeling it pressed against your ass immediately excited you. Moving your head slightly so he can start kissing and biting your neck. His breathing was hard and with his chest pressed against your back, you could feel his heartbeat. As he marked your neck, whimpers and moans were escaping your mouth. 

“Since you were feeling so brave today let’s hope you keep that energy,” he growled into your ear. 

“You gonna try and teach me a lesson?” you asked with a patronizing tone.

He chuckled and led you to the bed by your hair. Your heart was racing, your sexlife was by no means bland however, this was the first time he was this rough. It felt like the two of you were breaking the rules or something. Like discovering new and daunting territories. He reached his hand down and started feeling you through the hole in your panties he made. He let out a moan once he felt how wet you were. 

“You are such a fucking slut, good to know being put in your place is all it takes for you to soak your panties,” he said, letting go of your hair. 

He sat up onto his knees, instead of fully stripping his clothes, he just pulled his dick out of his zipper. Rubbing the tip against your pussy. Your chest was pressed against the mattress but your ass was pressed against his shaft. You start to rock your hips back and forth against him but he starts spanking his hands against your ass. The pain was so bad it burned, you thought he’d stop after a couple times but he kept going. Wanting to show you were handling the smacks, you try your best to take them without complaint. He was unrelenting and you finally begin to squirm away, which seemed to humor him,

“The more you fight and squirm, the more I wanna fuck you,” he said, running his nails down your now bright red ass. 

“Fuck just do it already then,” you whine, in response he spits at your face. 

“Cum slut’s don’t speak unless spoken to,” he said, pushing himself into your twitching and leaking pussy.

The feeling was enough to make your eyes roll back. After weeks of Lip blue-balling you, the sensation of being filled by him was pure bliss. He was going at a painfully slow rate, pulling himself fully in and out of you after every thrust. As pleasurable as it was, you’d do anything to get him to speed up. Unable to rock your own hips, you kick your feet a little in protest. This made him laugh and slow down even further. He grabbed your wrists and pressed them against your lower back, taking full control of your body. You were dripping down both thighs and tears pooled in your eyes. You were at your limit with his teasing, tightly clenching around him. He pulled out and flipped you onto your back, feeling too embarrassed to look him in the eye. Tears had stained your cheeks and your hair was in complete disarray from being yanked and pulled. He crawled on top of you and started pushing his tip in and out. You were bucking your hips up, tears coming back as he teased relentlessly. 

“You’re sensitive here? Perfect spot to abuse huh?” he asked sarcastically, using one hand to smack his cock against your pussy.

In your own little world, trying to cum with what little friction he was giving you. He finally stops and instead wraps his hands around your neck. Then starts pounding into you, slowly tightening his grip over time. You were feeling dizzy and foggy, letting out a moan every time his length fully pressed into you. He was grunting and groaning, a couple beads of sweat dropping onto the bed from how much he was exerting himself. The closer you got to your orgasm the tighter his grip on your throat became. Your face was bright red and a wheezing sound came out of your mouth with every inhale. He seemed to be hummored by this and started to mock you. 

“Can’t breathe? Good,” he chuckled. 

The mixture of degradation and the fast paced abuse on your cunt was enough to send you over the edge. Shockwaves of pure pleasure began to ripple throughout your body. Legs trembling and eyes rolling back. He was chasing his own climax, seeing and feeling you cum around his cock was enough for him. Rutting into you with no regard for you, as if you were nothing but a toy for him. Seeing how he turned you into such a slutty mess made him feel feral. It wasn’t until he was fully finished that he removed his hands from your neck. After a small coughing fit, you began to come too. Lip was already up, using his shirt to clean you up. Pulling your hair out of your face and into a messy bun. You were half dead, completely exhausted and worn down. He laid down next to you, rubbing your back and whispering affirmations into your ear. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to be as close to him as you could. 

“I’m glad I could fuck the attitude out of you,” he said, as you fell asleep.

[isakvaltersnake]

things from the 2001 television programme band of brothers that haunt me to this day:

- we’re paratroopers lieutenant, we’re supposed to be surrounded. not to be your 60 year old military obsessed uncle about it but that line goes hard

- nix’s little giggle he does sometimes

- I’ll never forgive them for leaving gene’s medic training out of their training montage. in fact you know what? go back in time, film a parallel sequel of the other 9 eps from gene’s pov

- popeye’s “they called you guys too?” and the way his accent specifically scratches my brain

- they gave me moose heyliger and his massachusetts accent for like 20 minutes then the narrative snatched him away from me and i still miss him

- the way meehan looks at winters after he tells him to close the flap, in fact let’s talk about how every single one of winters’ commanders are obsessed with him in one way or another he truly is the it girl

- the chaos and fear that precedes gene and the calm and comfort that follows him

- I know everyone thinks “we’ll go to chicago, I’ll take you there” is the insane line but the one that actually makes me lose sleep is “what, and give up all this?” THAT MAN SAID I WOULD RATHER LIVE THROUGH THE HORRORS OF WAR THAN HAVE LIVED MY LIFE WITHOUT YOU

- alley is So Beautiful and I don’t think we collectively talk about it enough

- babe being some rando replacement in episode three and whilst his other replacement friends are being absolutely roasted he is immediately adopted by bill and then gets gene fucking roe of all people to connect to him?? he’s too powerful I need to study him

- speirs being this ghoulish terrifying boogeyman until lip is anywhere near him then he’s suddenly dimples and kicking his feet and giggling

- speaking of lip and speirs their little sarcastic in jokes, lip finishing speirs’ sentences fml it’s giving married

- you been working out? IN FRONT OF EVERYONE?? LIEB YOU SLUT?? THEN YOURE GONNA LAY IN HIS BED WAITING FOR HIM??? insane behaviour

- the unexplored but high potential friendships and the way I wanted like 16 more episodes for shifty and lip, nix and luz, nix and web, sisk and perconte, winters and gene, grant and tab, lieb and alley, speirs and harry, etc

- the more haggard and bitchy nix gets the hotter he gets. he also must be studied.

- “you should pack up those ears and go home” ok sobel kinda ate with that one ngl

- speaking of sobel the little confused/bewildered/piss-pants faces he makes david schwimmer the actor you are

- the silly little wide stance pennywise ass run hall does before he gets murked RIP king

- klepto speirs ilysm

- joe toye and his brass knuckles are v sexy

- sink letting nix give winters his oak leaves was very shipper girl of him

- lip harry nix speirs winters in the eagle’s nest dream blunt rotation

- the unsustainable amount of cunt served by nix, frank, babe, and luz at all times is truly a marvel

- tab really checked lip’s dick and balls mid battle and honestly that’s friendship

- bit parts for simon pegg, tom hardy, andrew scott, james mcavoy, michael fassbender, jimmy fallon ?? bob casting director you will always be famous

- peacock is so fine if he was even a little good at his job I’d be obsessed with him (special shout out to the scene of him getting sent home on furlough)

- I could list out every one of their meaningful little moments together but really it’s babe and gene just tethering and grounding each other and how they seem to gravitate to each other out of blind instinct? that’s some Brontë whatever our souls are made of bullshit I’m afraid

- ok I know I said I wasn’t talking about little meaningful moments but gene staring across the convent at where babe is sitting, lost in the peace

-bull in replacements getting imprinted on by a bunch of baby ducks and being SO PLEASED ABOUT IT he’s not the stepfather, he’s the father that stepped up

- speaking of, the underutilization of bull in the back half is such an out of character bad call

- you are officers, you are grown ups, you oughta know. HE’S RIGHT AND HE SHOULD SAY IT AND THAT’S ON GENE BEING THE ONLY ONE ALLOWED TO TELL OFF WINTERS

- I know nix and winters are married and whatever but the real married couple behaviour is luz constantly pissing off joe and joe immediately letting it go

- lip and speirs and their mutual competency kink

- I’M REAL SORRY FRANK skinny ilysm

[radio-writes]

I Don't Know if I'm Real Without You

— Part 2 of 2 (Read Part 1 here: What is Left of Me Without You)

Synopsis: He didn't love you, but he needed you—that's what he said, at least. He needed you to show him just how deep your devotion to him really was.

Warnings: abusive relationships, power imbalance, some misogyny, heavy manipulation, gaslighting, murder and violence, physical injury to reader, major character death(s), angst

Tags: married, one sided romantic love, Alastor x Reader, female!reader

MDNI

"Why, just the other day a green fuzzy caught sight of another stiff by the river! Poor green egg went green in the face!" A laugh track followed the voice on the radio.

Alastor sat on the couch as he riffled through his briefcase, making sure he had everything he needed today.

"What poor taste," You commented absentmindedly from behind him. "Is that really any way to start off a Sunday morning?" 

Alastor let out a distracted hum at your words. He hadn't really been paying you much mind. A lazy smile simply played on his face.

Just one body? Seems they missed the other two friends it had in there.

"Well, it takes talent to entertain, my dear. Something these hacks clearly lack," He said casually, waving a hand at the radio's direction. 

"And speaking of stiffs! We've got a fresh one today, folks—" The host's voice was chipper as it came from the radio.

Alastor sat a little straighter, as if on instinct.

"Darling, do you mind fetching my script?" Your husband spoke over the hack radio host. "Seems I might have forgotten it in our bedroom." 

"Not a problem, dear," You replied almost instantaneously. Your hand landed on his shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze before you left the room. 

Alastor stood up, cooly making his way towards the radio as he turned the volume down slowly. 

"Glue stuffed in his mouth, chilled off, and absolutely tattered by nails, people! Brutal new body found behind the local—not so secret—juice joint!" The radio continued, but Alastor's smile remained calm despite the gruesome news.

His eyes stayed at the doorway you left through, making sure you had actually gone.

There was no need to sully your little ears with useless chatter like this. You were much more use to him all oblivious and naive, so he'd prefer to keep you that way. 

When the radio host finally finished talking about his the most latest victim, Alastor turned the volume back up to how it was. He made his way back to the couch, hands gathering his script neatly into his hands from the top of his briefcase.

He chuckled to himself before calling out to you. "Never mind, dear! The little bugger was at the bottom of my case this entire time!" 

He wasn't the type to forget these things. He was always so organized, sometimes to a fault.

And you knew that.

And Alastor knew that you knew that.

But he wasn't worried. You'd never doubt him. Whatever pesky little thought you had related to him, you'll just brush off easily.

He'd made sure of that.

Alastor heard you playfully scold him, your soft laughter rung through his home.

"—I guess you can say he really nailed that Chicago overcoat!" The annoying little shit on the radio joked just as you entered the room.

Alastor spared it one quick glare before his sight fell on you once more. You didn't seem to care for the joke much, but your eyes did linger on the dials of the radio for a second too long Alastor thought.

"Does the radio seem a bit louder to you, Al?" You asked him.

Ah, he must have turned it back a tad bit too far.

He looked at you with faux confusion. "'fraid I don't know what you mean, dear. Why would it be louder?" He stood up, closing the briefcase in front of him and straightening out his collar. "But I do have to split now, darling, or the ol' big cheese would have my head."

Your eyes met his warm chestnut ones. Alastor could practically see the way you brushed away your silly concerns in your head, a soft smile once again gracing your lips. 

He knew you were confused as to why his boss supposedly needed him at work on a Sunday.

He knew you wanted to ask why.

He knew that, at least some part of you, didn't fully believe that he was headed off to the radio station. 

If you were smart you'd have listened to it.

But you were his wife. 

So you simply nodded in understanding, moving closer to where Alastor stood. You made to grab for the suit jacket that still hung on his arm but the tall man was quick to pull it high above your reach.

"Not so fast there, darling." He teased, smiling down at you.

"It's cold out, dear. I'll help you put your coat on," You insisted, small, delicate hands reached up for the jacket.

Alastor stepped back from you, briefly tapping his fingertip against your nose. "And who said I was in any hurry to cover up this lovely new shirt my wife got for me?" He teased, snapping the suspenders he wore against the crisp white shirt.

He simply adored it when he made heat color your soft cheeks. He loved seeing proof of his effect on you.

His eyes drifted to the clock behind you, his smile straining just a tiny bit when he realized what time it was.

He'd miss his mark if he wasted any more time here.

"In any case, darling, I really do have to dash," He smiled back at you, already heading towards the door before you could say anything else. "But do keep yourself free, baby. I'll be back before you know it." He shot a wink at you.

He grabbed his hat from the coat rack and plopped it neatly on his head, then he was out the door in a second. 

Alastor let out a short, tired breath.

Sometimes, he did find your love to be a bit tiring. But he supposed, at the moment, it was still worth much more than the hassle it caused him.

He hurriedly strolled down the street, smiling and greeting everyone that passed by him politely. His ego stroked just a little bit with every flustered dame.

He didn't care for any of them, but he never grew tired of knowing the charming effect he had on people.

Alastor tried to clear his head of you as he hopped into a taxi. He laughed as the cabby recognized him almost immediately, but he didn't pay the man any mind as he yapped about how much of a fan he was.

Instead, he found that his thoughts have annoyingly strayed back to you. He's found that you've been so persistently present in his mind lately.

One would think that sounded so romantic, that he was a cold man finally falling for a sweet little thing.

But in reality he was weighing his options.

You've always been so behaved, so meek.

He found you endearing, that much was true.

You were great company, after all. You loved the same music he did, kept up with his dancing, and sang so beautifully along whenever he tickled the ivory keys.

You dressed up to compliment his style, even if it wasn't to your comfort. Smiled at all the wretched people, even as they gossiped behind your back. Perfectly prepared and happily ate every dish he liked, even stranger ones you found hard to stomach.

Because you shaped yourself to be his partner. You did everything and anything that you could to gain his approval.

And that was indeed endearing. The lengths you went to, just to hear a simple praise from him.

Alastor used to wonder if there was ever a limit to it, but as the times flew by he realized you were just too happy to rewrite even your own logic just to stay by his side.

And it was also true that you were a brilliant cover.

As a taken man, there were much less people prying into his life as opposed to when he was an eligible bachelor. And no odd rumors ever spread about him thanks to how behaved you were.

People saw him as soft, gentle, caring. Because a violent, murderous, psycho could never keep a delicate little thing like you as his wife, could he?

Yes, you definitely had your perks. That much he already knew.

But you've been so restless lately. So oddly, insistent on being by his side more. 

He'd tried to talk it out of you. Whispered how he was so lucky that you weren't like other wives. How you trusted him and respected his space. How you didn't nag him like a terrible partner would.

And it worked...for a while.

Until you've been fixated on getting the darn basement door open, at least. Somehow, you had it stuck in your brain that opening that stupid lock would have proved your worth to him.

You've been visiting that mug of a shopkeep at the locksmiths so often that Alastor just simply had to get rid of him already. He returned the useless tools he sold you last time too of course. He didn't quite like others making a fool out of what was his.

Only he could do that.

The cab stopped by a rather classy bar, the driver letting out a low whistle, going on about how they also wished that they could live up the big life.

Alastor tipped him generously, bidding him a great day as he stepped out.

He tossed his jacket on quickly before he adjusted his bowtie in the reflective glass window of the building. This was, he thought, his second favorite part of it all.

For such a detached man, Alastor loved many things.

He loved meeting his victims for the first time in person. The thrill of so many eyes on him as he clasped their clammy palms in greeting.

He loved talking to them, watching their eyes light up as he mentioned what they wanted the most. That moment where he knew he had hit the nail on the head and found out exactly what made these scum tick.

He loved using it against them, luring them to a false sense of security.

And, his absolute favorite part, he loved dragging the sharp edge of his knife against the skin of their necks. The lovely shade of red bleeding down their stiffening bodies.

He just can't help but love—

"My darling?" A voice—your voice—rung out in the dark alley. 

There wasn't time. There was no time to hide the body, toss the knife, flee from the scene.

There was no time to come up a with a story, a lie, a cover.

Because you were right there, standing in the alley with him. His blood stained hands and the corpse by his feet plainly in your view.

Even with the blood smudged on the lenses of his glasses, he could see the fear in your eyes, the gears turning in your head as you tried to process the scene in front of you.

It's a real shame. Earlier today he had decided that you still had more purpose to serve him. That he could still put up with you. That he would still be able to stomp out whatever stubborn will riled you up lately.

Clearly that wasn't the case anymore.

"Now, now, dearest," He started, hand reaching out to you as he held the knife still in his hand.

Your feet moved, but to Alastor's shock you ran to him.

Your panicked eyes took in the violent red that stained the pristine white shirt as you took his outstretched hand in both of yours.

"We should go," You hurriedly whispered, fearful eyes met his confused ones. "You can't be seen here."

You tugged him along the streets, careful to keep yourself in front of him as you tried to hide most parts of him stained with red.

Alastor's eyes were wide, his long legs working on their own as he tried to understand what exactly was happening.

"Dearest?" He whispered to catch your attention. "I just chopped off a man, you know that, right?" 

Your steps didn't falter as you hurried along, but you didn't turn your head to look at him either.

"Yes," You responded. The tight knot against your throat kept you from saying anything more.

"I sliced his throat open," Alastor continued to prod more. "His blood is all over me, in fact."

You whip your head around in urgency. You meant to shut him up. You meant to warn him not to talk so loud, that you couldn't be too sure who could be around to overhear.

But when your fearful eyes met his calm, warm, sweet, ones you ended up swallowing against your dry throat. Adorning a shaky smile instead.

"And I'm sure you did it to keep yourself safe, dear." You said, although it seemed as though you were trying to convince yourself of that.

It was as if a light bulb lit up in Alastor's head. He finally understood what was happening. He fought against his own body to keep himself from smiling as he stared into your uncertain eyes.

"I knew you'd understand," He feigned a sigh. His hand, that was previously unresponsive in yours, curled its fingers to hold onto you. "I knew I would be safe with you, my darling wife."

Alastor noted the way your stiff shoulders slacked at his words. As if you were waiting for his praise; as if you were waiting for that little bit of confirmation to fully push away all those pesky, silly, little doubts you held.

As if you were begging to have the slightest bit of reason to cling onto, to prove that there was no cause to leave your spot beside him.

"If anyone asks," You said softly, your hand reached out to wipe away the little bit of blood on his cheek. "I'll tell them you came home early to me. You did promise that you would come back quickly, anyway."

Alastor smiled down at you, letting himself lean into your touch as you seemed to love it when he does. "I am so lucky that you love me, doll."

You continued to lead him down the streets, sticking to less lit areas as you did so.

Alastor couldn't stop the grin from spreading widely across his face.

Because you did love him. You loved Alastor with all your sanity it seemed, but he was, unfortunately, far too happy to take advantage of that.

It was a huge weight off his shoulders really. 

Alastor enjoyed the hunt, the kill, but the clean up? Not so much.

While yes, he did enjoy tricking people into eating up his stories, misdirecting them this way and that, silently mocking how clueless they were. It was still such a pain to have to constantly make sure his stories were air tight. 

He didn't have to do that anymore, though. Not when all his darling wife had to do was smile shyly at people and hint that he was back home all night busy with more usual pleasures.

It wasn't even that hard to convince you to let him stay out late, hunt to his heart's content.

It was all just bad, terrible people. Scum of the earth. Dangers that could hurt you, or others. And Alastor, the dashing, selfless, secret knight in shinning armor was willing to dirty his hands if it meant keeping people safe. He'd taken on the burden so everyone else didn't have to.

Your husband, a great, tragic hero.

And besides, it's not like he asked you to kill someone. All you had to do was lie a little. Nothing grand, nothing elaborate—he wasn't so sure you'd be able to handle it after all—just smile, and hint, and spread a few insignificant white lies. 

It was easy enough, wasn't it?

And your little love for him did everything else. Your own lovesick mind fought your instincts without Alastor even doing much of anything else.

You convinced yourself so quickly that all this blood, all this violence, all this murder, just made your husband an even greater man.

Ah, he truly did love the way you loved him.

You were with him now down in the basement—Alastor conveniently finally figured out how to open the stubborn padlock—and if he was being honest, he never really imagined you joining him here.

Well, not alive anyway.

You watched him as he neatly packed the most latest body into a bag and burn the gloves he used during the act. Going through his simple routine to make sure he could continue to get away scot-free.

Alastor noticed how your eyes always averted from the corpses, insistent on staying on his form instead. He didn't really mind it, but oh did he enjoy that little spark of fear you worked hard to stomp down whenever your glance landed on a limb or two. 

He heaved the bag over his shoulder, before finally fully turning to you. "Well, let's get a move on, shall we, darling?" He smiled cheerfully, motioning with his arm for you to head up the stairs first.

You were glad to do so it seemed, you always were. You didn't have to watch your husband dispose of bodies, but Alastor found it rather cathartic how you've now started to cringe away from the basement door, after weeks of pestering him over opening it.

A little lesson, he thought. Well deserved. 

And look how behaved you were now again.

The walk to the nearby woods was uneventful. Silent. Routine.

Unlike the first time around he dragged you along. You kept wondering and wondering until you finally asked out loud how Alastor knew the streets so well. How he knew where to go where no one would see him. The man you saw him kill was the first one, wasn't he?

He laughed at your unsure smile, brushing your worries off with the flimsiest excuses. How he'd been home late so many times already because of work. How he just preferred to take the quieter roads so as to decompress from all his adoring fans—fans who weren't you.

And it was enough.

Because you foolishly trusted him. You wanted to believe him, and so you did.

Alastor hummed cheerfully as he continued to shovel dirt over his most recent victim. He was certainly far enough into the woods not to care too much about being overheard, anyway.

A sudden soft beeping noise joined his melody, and he looked down at his—rather expensive—watch.

"Would you look at the time! I hadn't realized it was already so late. Time surely flies when you're saving the world, right, darling?" He looked over his shoulder at your unsure form.

You stood hunched over, your back against a tree, and your arms wrapped around yourself, a fair distance from the man burying a body.

Your eyes avoided the hole in the dirt as you painted a strained smile on your face. 

Saving the world.

Alastor could practically see the way you tried to remind yourself that that is what your husband was doing.

"It's hard to keep track when you've got a lot do," You vaguely answer, choosing your words carefully.

It's not that you worried Alastor would do anything to you. But you were, unknowingly, cautious of any single thing that could trigger any more silly concerns within yourself.

Alastor hummed in response, his eyes staring at the mangled corpse he threw in the ditch. "They'll be looking for me at work if I don't show up soon, though." He thought out loud. "But I can't exactly leave this rotten stiff like this, can I?"

He sounded troubled. He looked troubled, with that wrinkle between his brow.

A good wife would soothe him.

A good wife wouldn't stand around watching her spouse do all the hard work.

He didn't need to say it though, not that he had any mind to. You heard his voice in your head regardless. 

Your timid, unsure voice spoke up. "I...I could stay behind and continue burying it?" It sounded like a question.

One that it seemed like you hoped the answer was no. 

Except you'd be a horrible wife for thinking that. You should be praying that he'd say yes.

After all, a good wife would do anything to help her husband.

Alastor froze for a second, his eyes catching yours from above his glasses before he adjusted them up his nose. 

Then you were rewarded with a smile.

"My darling wife, always so helpful," He cooed, walking towards you. He dropped the shovel to the ground and wrapped his arms around your waist, almost lovingly.

Alastor could feel how fast your heart beat in your chest, almost fighting to get out. "But I could never ask a lovely doll like you to do such a dirty job like this." He tsked as he looked down at you.

"I can handle it, my dear," You responded, eyes bright with stars at his praises. It was almost as if you'd forgotten what exactly it was you were agreeing to.

Alastor pretended to think for a moment, but his eyes caught sight of the watch on his wrist and decided he didn't exactly have time to enjoy playing with you more.

"Only if you promise not to get caught, my darling." He smiled down at you, and you quickly nodded, promising you'll do a good job and meet him at home.

He pressed his cold lips chastely against your forehead, and left you with a corpse in the woods to bury.

But it's just that, anyway. Nothing too much to ask for.

It's not like you killed him.

And he was probably a horrible person to begin with.

Right?

You brushed away the heavy, gnawing feeling, as you met the glassy unseeing eyes of the corpse in the ground.

Alastor surely knew what he was doing. And you loved him enough to do this simple thing to help with that.

Just as you shoveled in one patch of dirt to cover the man's eyes, you heard a loud gun shot echo through the early morning woods.

You jumped out of your skin, cold hands gripping the shovel as the sound rung out.

Your heart was at your throat as goosebumps littered your skin. 

Alastor.

You ran. You barely registered your own body moving until you felt the cold air whipping against your face as your legs carried you to where your husband went.

Worry. It all but consumed you, as your blood rushed loudly in your ears and your heart pounded.

Please be okay. Please be okay.

Please—

You didn't know what you were doing. You didn't recall it. You didn't feel any of it.

You remembered seeing your husband's body collapsed and bloodied on the forest floor.

You remembered seeing someone with a gun standing panicked over him. 

But no, you didn't remember when you ran at the culprit.

You didn't remember the feeling of stabbing the shovel into their side, nor the warmth of their blood as it splashed on your cold skin.

You didn't remember bashing the steel against their skull with all your might; the metal dented and morphed as it disfigured the man's face.

You didn't remember screaming until your throat was raw. You didn't remember the tears scrolling down your bloodied cheeks. You didn't remember the horrible, unbearably cold, ache in your chest.

You didn't remember staring down the barrel of a shaky gun.

You didn't remember dying.

All you remembered, was the feeling of Alastor's warm arms embracing you as he pressed his welcoming lips to your forehead. 

And how you knew you'd never feel it again.

At least, you didn't think you would.

You blinked in confusion as you stared up the man—thing?—that caught you in their arms like a bride.

"I guess someone ought to rewrite those wedding vows because death didn't seem to do us part!" It laughed. Its voice sounded as if you were merely listening to it from a radio.

No, wait. Sure the thing that caught you also laughed, but you could have sworn you heard a whole crowd do so as well. Strangely, almost like a laugh track.

It's sharp yellow teeth showed proudly as it grinned down on you, and you couldn't help but cringe away a tiny bit from fear.

What are you? You wanted to ask, but you knew better than to be blunt.

You wouldn't want those nasty paper folk to catch wind of Alastor's little wife being rude—

Except. Were you still his wife? Where was he anyway? Where were you?

The thing that held you laughed cheerfully as it gently set you down onto your own feet. "Darling, I will never get enough of how easy you are to read," The thing said, twirling it's cane—microphone?—in it's hand before it leaned on it to study you. 

You got a strangely familiar heavy feeling in your gut, but before you could think much of it, your arm was looped through its as it pulled you along to a shop window.

"It seems you're a tiny bit confused, my darling," It said with a bright smile. "It's alright, you weren't always the brightest bulb in the room, but you certainly made up for it with your passion." It chuckled, once again a laugh track following its words from seemingly nowhere.

You felt the tip of its microphone at your chin, tilting it so that you'd turn your gaze from him to the shop window.

You almost jumped away, like an animal not recognizing itself in the mirror.

It took you a minute to realize that you looked at your own reflection.

You even waved your hands around and tilted your head to make sure it followed your movements. To make sure this was real.

You looked nothing like yourself. Hell, you looked nothing human.

"Truthfully, I'm a little offended, dear." The thing beside you spoke up, now turning to his own reflection as he adjusted his bowtie and dusted off his red pinstriped suit. Something oddly familiar.

"It took me less than a second to recognize you, and you still seem to not even know who I am." It said, glancing at you from the corner of its bright red eyes.

Your gaze trailed up to the top of its red hair, seeing two small horns—at least that's what you thought they were. 

"The devil?" You asked cautiously, still confused. "Am I in Hell?"

It let out a hum at your response. "One of two. I suppose it's one of your better shots, my dear." It said.

It turned to face you, suddenly leaning down close, so as to have it's mouth right by your ear. Your body freezes on instinct as it spoke.

"Must I really bed you again for you to remember me, darling? Or would watching me bury another body be enough to jog your memory?"

You leaned back, only enough to catch a look at the thing's face. The knowing eyes that seemed so warm, so inviting, so charming, despite how monstrous they looked. The smile that seemed incapable of falling.

The familiar feeling that brewed in your gut.

"Alastor?" You asked, your now clawed hands reached up to caress his cheeks, and the thing—your husband—leaned into it. His eyes briefly closed.

"Took you long enough, really." He said, a joking exasperation in his tone. 

The thing—your husband, you had to remind yourself again—abruptly pulled away, his tone bright and cheery as he began to drag you along the streets with a heavy clawed hand on the small of your back. "Now enough of that! Time for more important business, darling!"

"Wait, Alastor? How? What?" You stammered, attempting to pull away to take a second to breathe and clear your head.

The hand that guided you slid to the side of your waist, pulling you tightly against it's Alastor's side. "Ah, my darling thing. Always so slow on the uptake." He shook his head as if he found it adorable. "We're in Hell, dear!"

The words rang loudly in your ears, your heart sinking to your stomach.

"And we have important business to take care of, yes indeed!" Alastor continued, not letting you process a single thought. "And for this, I'll need a partner I can trust! I'll need a partner who I can rely on! I'll need someone absolutely devoted to me." His eyes met yours but he saw how the alarm still outweighed his words.

His eyes narrowed, lowering his face abruptly to yours, to the point where you could feel his breath on your skin. He wanted your attention, all of it, and didn't really care all that much about what else you had to think about.

"Hellooo? Anybody home?" He joked, tilting his head as he saw your eyes come back to focus on him. "Ah, there you are, dear. Thought I lost you for a moment."

You supposed you could think things through later. Even if Alastor looked terribly different now, this was still your caring husband after all. And he needed something.

A devoted parter? Was that what he said?

"Well, you know I'm always here for you, Al. Whatever this plan of yours is." You tried to paint a smile on your lips as you always have.

"Oh, but how exactly do I know that?" Alastor stood back up to his full height, his head tilting as he smiled down at you.

Your brows furrow. You don't quite know how to tell him that. You swore you've done so much for this man, and yet when trying to think of an example, none came to mind.

You cooked and cleaned and looked pretty for him? Spent time with him? Loved him? Lie for him? Hide a body for him? That's just what a good wife would do.

But you supposed—you think—you killed for him.

"I avenged you?" It came out more of a question than an answer. "I killed for you."

Alastor didn't blink as he responded. "Then do it again."

Your mouth ran dry.

Had you heard him correctly? Was it a joke?

You waited for the laugh track to play but none came.

"What do you mean...exactly?" You asked with a nervous laugh, your lips straining to keep the smile.

"Kill for me again," Alastor casually said. He turned, eyes locking onto a random demon further down the street you walked along on. He raised his microphone to point at them, turning his head—unnaturally—to face you again.

"Like that one. I suppose he'll do." His tone was still as cheerful as ever.

You follow to where he pointed, eyes hesitantly looking at the creature. 

You quickly looked back up to meet your husband's gaze. That feeling was there again.

And you weren't sure if it was the fact that you just died, or the sheer lunacy of the request, but you finally realized what it was.

Doubt.

You doubted Alastor.

"Why?" Your voice was small. "Is he a bad person too?"

Alastor rolled his eyes. "Hell, if I know dear. I've only just seen him now. But we are in Hell, you know?" His shoulders casually shrugged as if he didn't really care. "So, maybe?"

You tried to hide the tremble in your voice. Tried to hide how you doubted him. "But I already killed for you. Why do I need to prove my devotion even more?"

"You killed out of passion, darling. It hardly counts." He laughed, as if you were being so silly.

You're left with even more questions when Alastor grabbed your wrist, and you melted into shadows before re-appearing right in front of your supposed victim.

"What the fuck?" They exclaimed, jumping back.

"Good day, good fellow! The name's Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, quite the pleasure!" Your darling husband stepped in front and forcibly shook the confused sinner's hand.

Alastor waved a hand in your direction to showcase you. "This right here is the Mrs., and she'll be killing you now."

You flinched as Alastor's voice further distorted.

Black tentacles wrapped around the now thrashing demon. And to your horror, you realized they came from your still-grinning husband's back.

His red eyes now consumed by black as he looked down at you expectantly.

"I...I don't have a knife." You avoided his eyes and looked away.

Alastor's head tilted. "You have claws now, dear."

You felt bile raise to your throat at the idea of ripping some stranger apart with your own hands.

"It'd be terribly difficult if these clothes get stained. Who knows where I could get new ones in...Hell." You had to spit the word out. "A-and, we're out in the open. Anyone can see us, there might be police here o-or their friends and family."

"You won't do it." Alastor cut off your rambling, more of a statement than a question.

You didn't meet his eyes.

You heard him sigh in dismay. "Well, it's alright, my dear. I suppose I knew your love for me had its limits."

Your eyes widen in shock, head whipping to look at him in panic. There was disappointment in his gaze as he looked away from you. Even as his smile remained painted on his lips, you could see how he seemed to shrink away from you.

"That's not true!" You half yelled, ignoring the struggling demon still held off the ground. "I'd go to the ends of the earth for you. I'd give up my life for you. I followed you to Hell, even! How could you even think that my love for you isn't boundless, Alastor?"

"Because it isn't." He sighed, his clawed hand gripped his microphone tight as he started to walk around you. "You say you'd do anything for me, that you'd give everything up for me. But I'm asking you for something so simple, and you couldn't even do that."

Your shoulders stiffen, you try to turn your head to follow him around. "This is not simple, Alastor." You said, a tinge of hysteria creeping into your voice. "You're asking me to kill someone for you, again."

"Wrong." Your husband said in a rather, sing-song manner. A jarring buzzer effect played at his words.

"I'm asking you to kill someone who is already dead." Alastor explained, barely paying mind to the sinner who now just looked very uncomfortable. "And you're already in Hell."

He looked at you as if you were stupid not to have put this together yourself. "He won't lose anything. You won't lose anything. There is nothing to give up with this tiny request of mine."

He stopped walking in front of you, but a greater deal of distance away now than when he started.

"And yet you can't even do that, my love."

You glanced down at your hands—your claws—in uncertainty.

That persistent feeling—doubt—swallowed you whole as you stood there willing your body not to move.

You should stop.

Run.

Never look back.

But instead your body moved toward the sinner; sharp, shaking, hands hesitatingly sinking into their flesh.

Once. Twice. Thrice. You couldn't be useless to your husband.

Their muffled screams sounded so far away from you, even as they yelled right by your ears.

You felt it.

Their skin giving way and the blood dampening your clothes each and every time you sank your soft, delicate, clawed hands into him.

The feeling of your long claws coming into contact and tearing through whatever bone or muscle stood in their way.

The awful, gut wrenching, guilt that swallowed your chest.

You hated it.

Alastor's hand clasps affectionately at your shoulder as he watched you cheerfully. Enjoying the conflict in your eyes as your heart died with every drop of blood that spilled from your hands.

"I think I may have just fallen so deeply in love with you, my dear wife." He cooed into your ear.

And your chest didn't flutter, or grow, or skip a beat like you had thought it would at those words.

But it's probably just the guilt, right?

It's just because so much has happened that you couldn't process anything.

Because you still loved Alastor, didn't you?

You loved him with your very soul, but he was a liar, and you may have finally started to see it.

Taglist @lil-bexie / @mizukikyong / @amurtan / @fokrilove / @fairyv-ice 

[goblin-king-jay]

"I missed you so much. Everyone did the right thing. If I had your family, I'd be there too. And I think that going back to Chicago and playing basketball can see you serving everybody, and I get that, and I'm just trying to find somebody to serve. And it's really hard because sometimes I feel really stupid because... I think about 'family on six' a lot. And I wish that I had known to take that as it was meant, which was as a profound kindness, and not something that was literally gonna be true... (sighs) It doesn't make sense to have a treehouse with a sports room and a demon room. That's not part of the same... there's no category that has those, that has 'demons' and 'sports' as the two instances in the category. So maybe we were never going to have a life -- or maybe I just missed my shot. Maybe, you know -- I thought for a second, I was like, maybe Jammer's family's going to adopt me... for three months until I'm 18. Maybe you can squeeze a whole childhood into three months, and this family that has no idea who I am... (sighs) I--I just had a lot of dreams that didn't make sense. And I--I was talking to Sam about it, but it's just that life, and the shape of life is so fucking strong, and if there's not a space for you -- if there's not a little taped off place for you to go, then it doesn't matter how anyone feels 'cause you need a place, not just... kindness."

[alisonsfics]

back in chicago - part 4

pairing: carmy berzatto x reader

summary: after years in germany, you return to chicago and immediately run into your ex-boyfriend. if you thought it’d be easy jumping back into your old life, you were wrong. new people had entered carmy’s life, including a new woman, but you were still everything to him.

word count: 4.8k

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

A/N: welcome to the FINALE babbyyyy…also i may have gotten carried away and the finale is a little on the long side

warnings: unprotected sex, smut, car sex, jealous carmy which deserves its own warning, minors DNI (18+ only)

After Richie’s birthday party, you avoided Carmy for a few weeks. It was too messy. He had basically told you he loved both you and Claire and didn’t know what to do about it. You didn’t want to get on Claire’s bad side more than you already had.

It was easier to just ignore the problem.

During those weeks, you started to hang out with Sydney more and more. You both had hit it off upon meeting each other. She felt like one of your best friends, despite having only having known each other for a month.

Being friends with Sydney meant sometimes accidentally running into Carmy.

The first time was when you and Sydney decided to try a new lunch spot, which happened to be close to the Bear, so she could walk there after her shift. You accidentally got seated at one of the tables in front of the restaurant on that patio.

Carmy had walked by on his way to work, and of course, had to stop and say hi.

Then, you and Sydney made plans to go to a farmers market. You planned to meet her at the Bear, but didn’t want to run into Carmy.

You hung out in the alleyway beside the restaurant. You looked down at your phone and realized Sydney had texted that she was running a few minutes late.

You waited, mindlessly scrolling through social media. Finally, the back door swung open. You looked up expecting Sydney, but instead saw Carmy with a box of cigarettes in hand.

“Oh…uh, hey,” he said, shocked to see you. You gave him a polite smile, not exactly knowing what to say. What do you say to your ex-boyfriend who knows you’ve been avoiding him. “I’m just waiting for Sydney. We’re going to a market.” You quickly explained.

He nodded, slowly. He was slightly disappointed you weren’t there to see him. He knew he’d screwed things up, but he missed you.

“You know, you can wait inside if you want? You don’t have to wait out in the cold and pretend like we don’t know each other.” He offered. Before you could say anything, Sydney rushed out the door and saved you.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” she said, trying to break up the awkward tension between the two of you.

A few days after that, Carmy had texted you asking if you wanted to get lunch. You couldn’t say yes, but you also couldn’t say no without sounding like an asshole. So, you ignored the message.

One night at your apartment, you FaceTimed Sydney after ruining the dinner you were making. “Syd, this tastes like shit. I don’t know how to fix it.” You complained. Having a chef friend came in handy.

It reminded you of all the times you’d cooked with Carmy.

“It probably just needs more acid to balance it out.” She told you. You nodded and tried to tweak the sauce.

“Oh, by the way, there’s this big dinner next week. Have you heard of the restaurant Ever? They’re closing and having this big final dinner thing. You should come with me. It’ll be fun.” She suggested, bracing for your quick no.

You paused and looked over at Sydney on your screen. She instantly knew the expression on your face meant no way. “Is Carmy gonna be there?” You asked, slowly.

Sydney pursed her lips and looked away from the camera. You glared at her as she refused to tell you. “I will respectfully pass then. I really don’t want to go to a dinner with my ex-boyfriend.” You told her, honestly.

Sydney sighed. “Oh, come on. They’ll be a bunch of people there. You probably won’t even see him.” Sydney said, and you both knew she was lying.

You persistently shook your head. “I really don’t want to see him. There’s too much history, Syd.” You told her. She knew she had slim odds of convincing you, but she was going to try. To do so, she was going to try every possible angle.

“I have this chef friend. His name is Luca, and he’ll be there. I think you’d like him. He’s cute.” She said, smirking at you. You gave her a disappointed look. “I told you no more love drama. I’m not ready to start dating some new guy.” You said.

You tasted your sauce as Sydney rambled on about why you and Luca would hit it off. “You know another plus? It would make a certain someone jealous.” She said, winking at you.

You froze at the reference to Carmy. Over the past few weeks, Sydney had refused to talk about Carmy unless you brought him up, so it was new to hear her mention him. “I’m not gonna take advantage of some guy just to get back at Carmy.” You persisted.

“Luca’s a nice guy. He might even be down to pretend just to help you make Carmy jealous.” Sydney playfully threw the idea out there. You felt a laugh slip through your lips. “That would be hilarious.” You said, treating the suggestion as a joke.

“I can ask him.” Sydney said, dead serious. You looked at her, mentally weighing your options. You almost considered it for a second. “No, Syd. I was just kidding.” You said.

You both hung up, so that you could finish making dinner. You completely forgot about the conversation. Until the next day when you got a text from Sydney.

“Luca says he’ll do it.”

When it came to the night of the Ever dinner, you were extremely anxious.

Anxious to see Carmy. Anxious to possibly see Claire. Anxious for how Carmy would react.

You were currently standing in the lobby as you waited for Sydney to show up. You felt too awkward to go in and have to find Luca on your own. You nervously fidgeted with the necklace you were wearing.

You had picked a dress that made you feel really confident. If you were going to try to make Carmy jealous, you knew you needed to up your game.

You heard footsteps coming down the hallway and looked up to see Sydney. “Hey, there you are. You look so good.” She said, giving you a hug.

You thanked her and returned the compliment. “You seem nervous. You doing okay?” She asked you, noticing the way you were fidgeting. You shrugged. “Kinda stressed, but just trying to power through it,” you said.

“Everything is gonna go fine, I promise.” She assured you. She led you into the dining room. You saw a blonde man raise his hand and wave you both over. As you walked over to the table, you glanced around the room. You saw no sign of Carmy.

He pulled Sydney in for a hug and then turned to you. “Luca. It’s nice to meet you.” He said, sticking his hand out for you to shake. You smiled and introduced yourself.

He quickly pulled your chair out for you, letting you sit down. “So, what’s the whole story with Carmy? I’ve been dying to know. Sydney told me a little bit.” Luca said, sitting and turning to face you.

“We dated for a few years. I moved away for a job, and he broke things off. His new girlfriend is pissed at me, simply for existing. And I don’t think he knows how to be friends with me after all these years.” You summarized.

“That is wild. Did you move to Germany, by chance?” He asked. You and Sydney both perked up when he said Germany. “Yeah, I did. How did you know that?” You asked, curiously.

“I went to culinary school with Carmy, and he always talked about his girlfriend who lived in Germany.” He told you.

“Yeah that was me, but we broke up before I left. So, we were definitely broken up when he told you that.” You said, realizing how hard Carmy must have taken the breakup. Luca slowly nodded. “My best guess based on the way he talked about you is he definitely wasn’t over you.” He told you.

You felt a pit in your stomach as you thought about it. You always figured Carmy moved on quickly because he was the one who broke things off. But, you were starting to realize how much he regretted that.

“I’m going to run to the restroom really quick, but I’ll be right back.” Luca said, standing up and excusing himself.

“Carm’s not bringing Claire tonight, right?” You turned and asked Sydney. She shook your head. “No, I asked him and he said she’s working tonight.” She told you. You breathed a sigh of relief.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Carmy walk into the room. “Oh, shit,” you mumbled to yourself. Sydney looked over her shoulder and also saw Carmy.

He walked over towards your table. When you both locked eyes, you could tell he was shocked to see you.

Sydney stood up to give Carmy a quick hug. You also stood up. Carmy’s eyes raked down your body as he saw your dress for the first time.

It took everything in him to fight the urge to tell you how amazing you looked. He gave you a quick side hug. “I didn’t know you’d be here.” He mentioned to you before sitting back down.

He sat on Sydney’s other side. His gaze lingered on you. He saw you in that dress, and he knew he was screwed.

Then, Luca returned to the table.

“Oh, hey man, it’s nice to see you.” Carmy said, recognizing Luca. They both exchanged some pleasantries. Carmy seemed excited to see an old friend. Luca walked behind Carmy and back to his seat next to you.

“I got you a drink.” Luca said, handing you a glass. You smiled up at him and thanked him. Carmy furrowed his eyebrows. He didn’t even think you both knew each other.

Luca’s hand softly grazed your back as he sat down beside you. “Do you umm…do you guys know each other?” Carmy asked. He was biting down on his lip.

“Carmy, Luca’s my date.” You said, watching as Carmy clenched his jaw. His grip tightened around his glass. You were almost concerned it would shatter. “Wait do you two know each other?” Luca played dumb, gesturing between you and Carmy.

“Yeah, we dated.” Carmy said, through clenched teeth. Luca slowly nodded his head like he was realizing the awkwardness of the situation.

Sydney covered her mouth as she tried not to laugh. Carmy was never someone who was able to mask his emotions. His jealousy was written all over his face.

“I’m surprised Claire isn’t here.” You said, with a tone colder than you meant to use. Carmy cocked his head to the side. “She uhh…had to work.” He said. He was thankful Claire wasn’t there. If she saw how jealous Carmy was acting, it’d lead to another fight. They’d been having a lot of fights about you.

Some other chef came up to introduce themselves to Carmy. Luca took the opportunity to reach over and grab your hand. Carmy saw the whole thing. Carmy moved his hands under the table, so no one could see how hard he was clenching his fists.

You and Carmy knew each other like the back of your hands, so neither of you missed any little subtle reactions.

Luca leaned over to you. “You were definitely right about this getting under his skin.” He whispered in your ear. You giggled, pretending like he’d just told you something funny.

Carmy rolled his eyes when he thought you weren’t looking. A second later, you saw a text pop up on your phone.

When you saw Carmy’s name, you grabbed your phone and held it in your lap. The text read:

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You had to stop yourself from laughing. Carmy was beyond easy to read. You quickly texted him back: “I didn’t think I had to. I didn’t even know you guys knew each other.”

Carmy was jealous enough that you had a date, but it was worse because Luca was one of his friends.

You saw Carmy huff as he read your message. Then, he furiously typed back a response.

“Oh, c’mon. You don’t think I know you well enough to know that’s bullshit? You should’ve told me.”

You turned off your phone and set it upside down on the table. One of the other chefs at the table started telling a story, which captured everyone’s attention except yours and Carmy’s.

Carmy kept looking over at the way your fingers were interlaced with Luca’s. He also saw how you both kept giddily smiling at each other.

You glanced over at Carmy after feeling him staring at you. He gestured towards the hallway. “Can we talk?” He mouthed to you. You shook your head and shifted your attention back to who was talking.

Towards the end of the party, Carmy was as frustrated as he could be. He’d watched you and Luca flirting all night. And you were ignoring him.

About half of the guests had left, and everyone was having small side conversations. Sydney had left because she had plans afterwards with her dad.

You and Luca were still chatting. Carmy was across the table as the guy next him continued rambling. Carmy wasn’t even paying attention to the conversation. His eyes were glued to you.

You grabbed ahold of Luca’s arm and then leaned over to whisper in his ear. You suggested a way to really make Carmy jealous. Luca played along.

Luca’s eyes went wide, and he rushed to stand up. He grabbed your hand and pulled you with him out to the lobby. You both did your best to pull eager expressions.

Carmy watched you both as you left. He couldn’t shake the pit in his stomach about where you both were going.

Luca pulled you into the one-person bathroom, leaving the door open just a crack. You both knew it was only a minute before Carmy came chasing after you.

“You’re an evil genius. Carmy is gonna lose his shit.” Luca said, laughing at your plan. You walked over to the sink and jumped up so you were sitting on the counter. You both were in a fit of laughter imagining Carmy’s reaction.

Until you heard quick footsteps in the hallway. Luca stepped towards you, and you pulled him to stand in between your legs. “You good?” He asked you, quietly. You quickly nodded, and you both started the show, knowing Carmy was close by.

Luca quickly kissed you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and kissed him back. You unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt. He ran his fingers through your hair, so it looked a little messy.

Just as you predicted, the door yanked open, and Carmy barged in.

“Carmy, what the fuck?” You asked, pulling out of the kiss.

Carmy’s face was bright red, half from anger and half from seeing you kissing his friend. “Hey, mate. C’mon now,” Luca said.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Carmy said, walking right up to Luca. Luca towered over Carmy, but right now Carmy didn’t care. He’d watched Luca put his hands on you, and he was pissed.

“Carm, leave him alone.” You said, jumping off the counter and standing in between the two men. Luca had a slight smirk. Carmy read it as cockiness, but you knew he was trying not to laugh.

“Do you think you can just put your hands all over her?” Carmy asked, looking past you at Luca.

You grabbed Carmy’s wrist. “That’s enough, Carm. Come on,” you said, dragging him out of the bathroom with you. Over Carmy’s shoulder, you saw Luca give you a thumbs up.

You pulled Carmy with you until you both were on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. You walked over next to where Carmy’s car was parked.

“Alright, Carmy, what the hell is up with you?” You asked, crossing your arms.

His eyes went wide. He wanted to be asking you the same thing. “Nothing's up with me. What about you? You never thought to tell me you were going out with my friend?” He snapped.

You rolled your eyes. “Why do I have to tell you anything. Remember, you and I aren’t dating anymore. I don’t owe you any information.” You told him. Carmy ran his fingers through his hair, huffing to himself.

“Because I care about you. Even if we’re not dating, I still consider you a friend.” He told you. You shook your head, taking a step back from him. “I told you that you couldn’t care about me as much as you do. You’re dating Claire.” You reminded him.

“Claire has nothing to do with this. This is about you pushing me away. I haven’t talked to you in weeks, and I miss talking to you. I know I messed up with the kiss, but you said you could forget it.” He said, his voice cracking slightly. You could tell that everything he was saying was true.

This is where the conversation became a lot more real for you. This wasn’t about your fake date anymore.

“Of course I pushed you away. Because I’m fucking scared, Carmy. When you get scared, you run away. I can’t trust that you’ll actually stay. Even just to be friends. If Claire asked you to stay away from me, you would.” You told him. Your chest felt tight as you finally told him how you’d felt for years. After Carmy broke things off, you’d never been able to get closure.

“I wouldn’t leave you like that.” He said, hurt by the implications.

You tried to take a deep breath, but you felt your eyes start to water. “You’ve done it before.” You snapped. He froze when he realized you were talking about Germany.

“Yeah, remember that I wanted to try long distance, but you got scared? So, you broke things off. You were my best friend, and you just called it quits.” You complained, a tear rolling down your cheek.

“I was trying to save us. I knew how wrong long distance could go. I didn’t want us to hate each other when we broke up.” He told you. You quickly wiped your tears off your cheeks. Carmy started pacing.

“It fucking killed me, Carm.” You said, looking over at him. He almost broke seeing the emotion on your face.

“So, that’s what all this was? This was all revenge? Ignoring me and going on a date with my friend. It was just to give me a taste of my own medicine?” He asked you. You shook your head and rolled your eyes.

“Oh my god, Carmy. Not everything is about you. Maybe I was ignoring you because it was hard seeing you with Claire. And then you tried to tell me you still loved me. I don’t deserve to have that dumped on my plate to deal with.” You told him. You were so irritated that Carmy still wasn’t understanding.

“Do you want me to apologize for how much you mean to me? Because I won’t do it.” He told you, crossing his arms.

“I just want you to acknowledge how fucked up it is that you keep trying to flip flop. You either love me or you don’t. But either way, figure it out and don’t drag me through this anymore—” Carmy cut you off with a kiss.

He grabbed your hips and nudged you back against the side of his car. You grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him close to you. He hesitated for a second.

“Luca’s inside,” he mumbled, stopping you. You shook your head. “We weren’t actually on a date. We did it to make you jealous.” You told him.

You realized that while Luca wasn’t an issue, Claire was.

“Of course you did,” Carmy said with a chuckle. He cupped your face and leaned in to kiss you again. You put your hands on his chest and pushed him away. “We…can’t,” you said, in between kisses.

He buried his face in your neck, pressing kisses to your skin. “Claire,” you mumbled. It was hard for you to not get distracted when Carmy’s lips were on you.

“What about her?” Carmy asked simply. He refocused his attention back on kissing your jawline. “Are you still with her?” You asked him, trying to stop your eyes from fluttering closed.

“Well yes but…” he started to say. You shook your head, moving his face so you could look him in the eyes. “No buts,” you told him firmly.

“I was planning on breaking it off tomorrow after I saw you in this dress tonight. I knew I’d never be able to get you off my mind.” He told you, letting his hands run along the curve of your back. He toyed with the fabric of your dress, caressing your sides.

You leaned into his touch. You always loved the way his hands felt on you. “We shouldn’t, until you tell her.” You said, even though every part of you wanted to kiss him again.

“I’m going to tell her. I promise. I won’t chicken out.” He assured you, noticing your hesitancy.

“We still should wait.” You said. The phrase came out more like a question than a statement. He leaned in closer to you. His nose brushed against yours. “Or we could…” he said, not needing to finish the sentence for you to know what he meant.

You grabbed his collar again and pulled him in to kiss you. He feverishly kissed you back. He quickly reached around his pockets to fish out his car keys.

He unlocked the car door and pulled the back door open for you. You practically jumped into the back seat. Carmy looked around before joining you in the car.

“We’ve waited five years. That feels like enough.” You said, in between kissing him.

“So long— too long,” Carmy corrected himself.

You cupped his face as you kissed him. He playfully nipped at your bottom lip before sneaking his tongue into your mouth. His hands were gripping onto your thighs as your legs wrapped around his waist. His lips tasted like the scotch he’d been drinking.

You were like a drug to Carmy. After not having you for so long, he couldn’t get enough of you. Especially not after hearing you whimper when he pushed his hips against yours.

He sat up quickly to shrug his jacket off his shoulders. You grabbed it and tossed it into the front seat.

You admired him as he straddled you. “You look so pretty staring at up me.” He said, leaning down to peck your lips.

Impatiently, you started unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt while he undid his tie. You ripped his shirt off his arms, letting it fall to the floor. His tie followed behind it.

You were silent as you admired Carmy. You ran your fingers over his chest, admiring his toned chest. “You really…wow,” you mumbled.

He laid you back down on the seat. “You’re getting to admire me, but I’m not getting to see you, gorgeous,” he whispered into your ear. You shivered as you felt his breath on your neck.

He reached down to the bottom of your dress and pulled it over your head. “You look fuckin’ breathtaking,” he said as his lips ghosted down your neck.

He placed a kiss on your lips and then started placing lips down your neck and down your chest. You almost whined as he placed a kiss right between your breasts. He continued leaving sloppy kisses down in a line til he got right above your panties.

He stopped and looked up at you with a smirk. “Such a tease,” you mumbled, pulling his lips back to yours.

“Normally, I’d make you wait a little bit, but I think we’ve both done enough waiting.” He said, slipping his fingers under your bra straps and tugging them off your shoulders.

“C’mere, sweetheart, can’t reach behind ya,” he said, pulling you both up.

He was sitting on the seat with you straddling his lap. You reached behind your back and quickly undid your bra. It fell into Carmy’s lap. You watched his eyes go wide, and you could feel his pants start to tighten below you.

You leaned forward and kissed Carmy’s neck. You started softly sucking on the skin. Carmy leaned his head back against the seat. A low groan escaped his lips.

You reached down to unbuckle his belt. You pulled his pants down to hang around his ankles. You could see how strained his boxers were.

“You’re not gonna leave me, Berzatto?” You asked him. He quickly shook his head. “Never leavin’ you ever again,” he said, reaching out to grab your hips.

You tugged down his boxers enough for his cock to spring out. “You look so fuckin’ sexy.” He groaned, biting down on his lip as he watched you.

He grabbed your hips and held you up as you lined him up. You slowly sunk down on him. You let out a muffled moan as you bit your lip. Carmy sighed and threw his head back.

“Oh my god, Carm,” you mumbled as he stretched you out. He nodded with his eyes tightly closed.

You braced your hands on his shoulders and pulled yourself up and sunk back down onto his length. “Oh…god, you feel— perfect,” Carmy groaned.

He massaged one your breasts in his hand, rolling your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. A high-pitched whine escaped your lips. “That feel good, baby?” Carmy asked, growing cockier by the second. He attached his lips to your other breast, softly sucking and biting.

You quickly nodded your head as you continued to your roll your hips against his. “I’m gonna mark you up so good, sweatheart,” Carmy told you as continued sucking on your soft skin.

“Make me yours, Carm,” you begged. You quickened your pace, slamming your hips down into his. The sound of your skin slapping against his filled the car.

Your eyes rolled back as Carmy hit your g-spot. You desperately tried to grab onto something. Your fingers missed the headrest and slid across the foggy window.

Carmy was mumbling profanities under his breath. His hips thrusted up to meet yours. He got too eager, and you hit the back of your head against the roof of the car.

“Ow, fuck,” you muttered as Carmy cupped the back of your head with his hand.

“C’mere,” he said, slipping his arms around your waist. He pulled you against his chest and shifted you both so you were laying down with him on top of you.

“You don’t have to do any of the work. Just let me treat you real nice,” he told you. He roughly grabbed your legs and wrapped them around his waist.

With the new angle, he reached even deeper inside of you. “Oh, fuck fuck fuck,” you muttered, weaving your fingers through Carmy’s hair.

“That feel good?” He asked you, thrusting quicker into you. You ferociously nodded. “Yeah, you fill me up so good.” You praised him. Your moans only encouraging Carmy to go faster.

“Almost there, sweetheart,” he mumbled. He reached down and starting rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb.

“Fuck, Carmy,” you yelled out. He kissed you to help muffle your moans. You could feel a tightening in your stomach. You were seeing stars.

You both were distracted when you heard something vibrating on the floor. You both quickly glanced over and saw Carmy’s phone with Claire’s name scrolling across the top. “Oh, shit,” you mumbled, “do you need to—” you started to ask before Carmy stopped you by pressing down on your clit for a second.

Your hips bucked up against his. A loud whine fell from your lips. “Don’t be silly, sweetheart. I’m not answering her call when I’m this deep inside you. Tonight’s all about you, not her.” He mumbled against your neck. He pressed sloppy kisses against your throat.

“Y’know, she knew she couldn’t compete with you. She knew you and me were meant for each other.” He told you.

Your nails scratched down Carmy’s back as you got closer to your high. “Please, Carmy— faster,” you begged him. He quickly obliged.

The sound of you both panting filled the car. His thrusts started to falter. “Look at me, baby. Wanna watch you fall apart,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck.

You balled your hands up in his hair, tugging on his curls. “I’m gonna—” you whined. His hips sped up, ramming into yours. “Yeah, me too,” he said in between groans.

You felt him twitch, and you both came together. A long string of profanities came rolling out of your mouth. He leaned back down to kiss you. His thrusts slowed down as he helped you both cool down.

He pulled out of you and flipped you over so he was laying down with you on top of him. He brushed your hair out of your face, which was pretty sweaty now.

“I fuckin’ love you. No running, you’re it for me.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.

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[steddielations]

Eddie’s missing. Steve can’t form a coherent thought beyond: Eddie’s missing, find him. The last few hours, it’s been his every thought, his every action.

There’s never a smooth visit to Hawkins. Eddie’s reputation has only gotten worse in the years since they moved to Chicago. Every time they come back, something goes wrong. But Eddie wanted to spend Wayne’s birthday with him, which also happens to be his mom’s birthday. That’s why he put on Wayne’s Muddy Waters record after a few drinks too many, mumbling, “Doesn’t sound the same.”

One second, Eddie was drunkenly rocking to the music, then he went outside for a smoke and didn’t come back. 

Wayne shouldn’t be out in the cold weather, but nothing could stop him from getting in his pickup to look for Eddie.

Steve’s mind jumps to nightmare conclusions. Eddie still has enemies, maybe they’re finally taking their revenge. Or what if they hadn’t destroyed the gate afterall and something worse took Eddie? Steve’s mind skipped every small explanation, but that detail about Eddie’s mom comes back.

He’s searching backroads and the thought leads him down Philadelphia street. No one goes there anymore, convinced there’s more ‘Munson victims’ buried where Eddie’s childhood home once stood.

Steve sags with relief when he shines the headlights and sees Eddie among the piles of old burned wood.

“Eddie!” Steve’s already jumping out the car, hurrying to him, “Oh God, there you are. What are you doing out here, baby? You okay?”

Eddie doesn’t seem to realize Steve’s there, frantically digging through the rubble. Looking for something.

“Eddie?” Steve reaches him, crouching down next to him, “Hey, what’s going on? Are you hurt?”

Without looking up, Eddie mumbles something like, “Can’t find ‘em.” 

“Can’t find what?” Steve asks, keeping his tone soft despite how worried and confused he is. Eddie doesn’t answer. There’s random cuts and splinters on his hands, covered in dirt and soot but he doesn’t slow down. Steve winces at the sight and reaches for his shoulder, rubbing gently to get his attention. 

“Eddie, look at me, hey. What is it? You can’t find what?”

Finally, Eddie turns to look at him. Though, his stare is a thousand miles away, eyes wide and bloodshot. The headlights show tear tracks through the soot dirtying his face. It’s like he’s in a trance, still mumbling things Steve can’t quite make out. He can smell the beer on Eddie, but he knows this isn’t just from drinking. Eddie gets stuck in his head sometimes, like in the boathouse all those years ago. Reliving nightmares from '86, and things that happened to him long before that too. 

“Her records,” Eddie stresses, “My mom’s records. I left them right here.” 

Steve looks down where he points to nothing but charred, rotting wood. There hasn’t been a house here in years. Steve remembers the fire, everyone said Eddie did it just because he was a ‘no good Munson’. Steve didn’t learn the real story until later. Eddie told him about the records, how they burned in 84 when all his dad’s scheming backfired.

“Eddie…” 

“They were right here!” Eddie interrupts, almost like part of him knows what Steve’s going to say and he doesn’t want to hear it. “I left them right here and now I can’t find them.” 

With a half-choked sob, he turns back to scouring through the rubble.

“Hey, It’s okay.” 

“No it’s not. I gotta find them, Steve, they’re all I have of her,” Eddie strangles out, flinching when Steve’s hand slides behind his shoulders.

Steve swallows down the emotion swelling in his chest. Feeling powerless to really do anything, he says, “Okay, we’ll— we’ll find them. It’s okay.”

That’s the only thing that seems to ease Eddie. Though, the way he slumps seems like he knows it’s not true, but lets himself believe it anyway. Just for the comfort. 

He’s breathing raggedly, shivering in the cold and every sob rattles his body under Steve’s hand. Finally, he lets himself sink fully into Steve, his cold wet nose pressed to Steve’s collarbone.

“S’all I got. Momma’s music,” he keeps repeating as Steve rubs his back, so drunk and so sad, “Gotta get ‘em back. S’all I got left of her.” 

“I know, baby, we’ll find them.” Steve presses kisses into Eddie’s forehead, holding him and rubbing his back. It’s not the truth, Eddie knows that, but he doesn’t need the truth right now. So Steve says it again and again, as long as Eddie needs to hear it. “We’ll find them.”

[juuuulez]

more lip x carmy x reader smut……. consider it not a direct prequel to this piece, but definitely in the same universe.. the start of their shenanigans perhaps.

so lip is your roommate: maybe you’ve managed to wrangle him into moving to a nicer area, someone safer than the south of chicago. it’s got tons of nice restaurants, you tell him! the nightlife is buzzing, public transport is (a little) cleaner, and it’s not even that far from home.

and he comes out of convenience, not because you two are anything special. he’s made that very clear. sure, you fuck around sometimes, and lip goes out of his way to make sure you’re always happy and satisfied and safe, but he’s very apparent about one fact:

lip gallagher does not do relationships.

not with you, not with anyone.

and yet, as he brings home a new girl every second night, you find yourself becoming increasingly annoyed. it was obnoxious, at this point.

the banging of his bed frame against the very thin walls, the clothes you’ll find scattered in the living room. when his fuck of the week comes out for coffee, half naked and clad in one of his shirts.

it pisses you off.

so, you decide it’s time for a little revenge.

it’s fair game, because in your mind, he started it. the plan is to find a guy, someone good looking, ideally, and have the loudest fuck of your life.

you find this man in a bar, somewhere dark with the music not too loud, just enough alcohol in your bloodstream to convince yourself this is a good idea.

tall, chiselled face, strong jaw… spiky hair…. and oh.

someone else catches your eye.

you think it’s lip, for a moment. that he’s predicted your plan and has come to squash it.

except it’s not lip.

his hair is long and curly, reminding you of lip’s from when he was younger, just a little more wild. it makes you yearn for the feeling of it between your fingers, a sorely missed sensation given that now lip insists on the buzz cut.

doesn’t matter, focus!

long story short, you manage to lure this mystery man off, with not more than some batted lashes and a sweet smile. you’d really been expecting more of a fight. regardless, it’s a win.

his name is carmy. so cute. you find it ironic that this guy has a clear aversion towards just using his actual name. and who does that remind you of?

the door closes with a slam, rattling the keys attached to the wall. “shh—” carmy whispers inbetween sloppy kisses, his hands settled on your waist as you tug him further down the hall. “don’t y’have roomates?” he asks.

“roommate, singular.” you mumble against his lips, fingers already working at the thin black tie he’s wearing.

it gets thrown to the floor, along with carmy’s jacket, and your heels. his hands find your thighs, pushing up the material of your dress, fingers hooking into the band of sheer stockings. his mouth finds your neck, mouthing hot and wet against the skin, your hand tugging at his curls.

it ends with your back pressed into the counter, the corner digging in uncomfortably, but that doesn’t matter. as far as a revenge fuck goes, you’re getting lost in the feeling, carmy’s eager hand coming up to cup your clothed cunt.

“fuck.” he grunts into your neck, grinding down against your hip. you wind a hand around to his belt loops, giving a firm tug that only presses his bulge flush with your form.

“jesus fucking christ, are you serious?”

lip squeezes his eyes shut the second he walks through the door, not wanting to see some fucking random rutting against you. there’s a grocery bag in his hand, the plastic crinkling as he tosses it towards the counter blindly, eyes still shut.

the intrusion causes carmy to recoil, his hands moving away from your body like he’d been burnt. a deep red flush comes to his face, made worse as your prying fingers persist, worming their way underneath his dress pants.

“i am serious,” you coo, looking over at lip. “this is my new friend carmy. say hello, carmy.”

“wha— what are you doing?” carmy can only squeak out, this strange mix of embarrassment and arousal thudding through his veins.

your free hand, the one not in his pants, finds the sides of his face, pinching his cheeks between your fingers. you use the grip to tilt his head, making carmy look across at lip.

and.. oh yeah, it’s starting to click now.

because, holy shit, carmy has one thought in his mind: is that me?

well, that thought, and also holy shit, her hand is still on my dick.

and lip’s going through a similar thought process, albeit with more anger, the familiar emotion stirring in his gut and overriding any of that initial confusion, because he knows you, and he knows this is some sick shit you’ve masterminded.

“bedroom, now.” he gets out, voice low and serious and commanding. it sends a tingle up your spine, one of excitement.

and you obey: grabbing carmy’s hand and tugging him along with you, despite the poor man’s confusion. because if you’re gonna be punished, he should too, right?

[makeyoumine69]

Before You Fade (Memory Reboot x3)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: After moving to Chicago, you thought you had left your former life behind. But when you receive a mysterious invitation one day, you realize you still have unfinished business in New York.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, mutual pining, obsessive behavior, desperate & sensual foreplay, anal fingering, penetrative & oral sex, biting, spanking, creampie, masturbating, mild praise kink & degradation, body worship, pet names, dirty talk, misogyny, swearing, gaslighting, manhandling, mind manipulation, cheating.

WORDS: 6.8k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent — Before You Fade

A/N: Hello everyone! A new chapter is finally here! This story has me in a chokehold! I highly recommend you to read the first chapter and the second one for a better understanding and as always I hope you like it! If you find any mistakes regarding gn!reader, please let me know!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST].

A new city, a new life, new people and new opportunities—all this was supposed to bring some relief, to ignite a new flame in your chest, to set a new goal, to make you forget everything that happened in New York. It was supposed to, but it never did.

After a few months of living in Chicago and working in a prestigious financial corporation, you began to notice that your life now looked like a vicious circle and the days blurred into one long day that never ended. That was probably the price you paid for running away, for being too cowardly to face the truth that what you shared with Bateman was not just a history—it was a goddamn passion and obsession that most people could only dream of. But you, you were not like them. For you, this obsession was like a plague, a disease, and you were sure that Patrick felt the same way. Still, the words he said that day were like scars on your mind. The poor guy really thought that you would stay with him, that you would miss a chance to reboot your life. Since you couldn't reboot the memory, this was the only way out.

Was that it?

The sleek interior of your office greeted you with the invigorating aroma of fresh coffee waiting for you on your desk made by your lovely assistant—a handsome guy named Vincent—he was quite modest but smart and sometimes you even thought you should have asked him out for something more serious than coffee. But then again, the shitty memories kept ruining all those weak impulses to try something new.

Sighing, you closed the door behind you and took off your coat, placing it on the nearby hanger and glancing at the beautiful bouquet of flowers on the small coffee table next to the big black couch. These flowers…you bought them for yourself just because you wanted them, not because you felt lonely or…

'Fuck, not again,' you shook your head, not giving yourself a chance to spiral again, knowing how quickly that could happen. Today was the worst day for self-digging, because you were going to present a final plan for a future quarter, and you couldn't fail. Not today, not ever. The moment you finally settled into your favorite armchair, you heard a soft knock at the door. You knew who it was even before you let the guest in.

Vincent, smiling as if he saw the brightest star in the midnight sky, opened the door and entered with cat-like grace. "Are you busy?"

Embarrassed by the man's persistent gaze, you folded your hands and leaned down on the table. "No, not really, I just came," you brought the coffee cup closer and wrapped your elegant fingers around its handle. "…and realized I have the best secretary in the world."

A sonorous chuckle rumbled from Vincent's chest. "Oh, you're too kind," the man walked into the office holding a pile of documents. "I brought you some fresh correspondence you might like to see."

"Uh, yes, thank you. Put it here, please."

The brown-haired secretary complied, and soon there was a large white envelope in front of you, next to the documents. There was something odd about having such a large envelope of mail since it was almost the end of the work week, but you just tapped your fingers on the smooth surface of the table in a slightly skeptical manner before turning your attention back to Vincent, who was standing in front of the desk, ready to assist you with anything you might ask.

"Anything else I can do?"

"I think that's about it for now," you answered, staring at the envelope from time to time out of the corners of your ears, sipping the hot drink and letting the warmth flow down your tensed body. "Oh, did you hear that our CEO won't be at the presentation today?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, he…has some unfinished business in LA…with a hot blonde chick."

You both laughed in unison, everything was clear as a bell. "Well, that sounds important." Vincent crossed his arms over his chest, the Oliver Peoples O'Malley glasses sitting perfectly on the bridge of his nose, though you tried not to focus on that little detail that constantly reminded you of Bateman. As if he was the only yuppie to wear such glasses. "Have you…"

As soon as Vincent started to speak, your phone rang—the loud sound even startled you a bit, but you quickly shook yourself and picked up the call, being extremely curious who could be calling you like this. "I'm listening."

"(Y/n)!" Paul Allen's cheerful timbre came from the other end of the line, making you almost jump in your seat.

"P-Paul?" You gave Vincent a worried look, and your nervousness seemed to affect your assistant as well, because he didn't look relaxed anymore. "Did something happen?"

"What? No! Of course not," Allen chuckled, and a female giggle could be heard in the background. "I'm calling to ask when we can see each other in New York…"

A noise grew louder, making it difficult to hear Paul's words, so you had to close one of your ears and furrow your brows in irritation. "Where are you calling from? A brothel? I can't fucking hear a word!"

Such a remark made Vincent laugh a little shyly, but then the man bowed his head and retreated in his professional, polite manner.

"Can you repeat…" You began to speak at the same time as Paul.

"…so when can we meet?"

Grumbling, you rolled your eyes. "Why did you even decide that I would visit New York?"

"Didn't you get the invitation to the wedding?" Paul's question made you feel something heavy in your stomach.

"Wedding? Who's wedding?"

There was a moment of silence that left you so nervous that you didn't even notice a pencil in your hands that was about to break because of how desperately you were squeezing it.

"Halberstram…" another pause, then another female snicker. All of it made you sick. "He's marrying a hardbody named… Cecilia, if I'm not mistaken."

Somehow you felt strangely relieved.

"But it's been several months since I quit, why was I invited?"

"Gee, (y/n)," now it was time for Paul to grumble a bit. "You think a few months are enough to forget you?" He laughed shamelessly into the phone. "Okay, okay, maybe I chose the wrong time to call you. But seriously, I'm looking forward to hanging out with you when you get here."

"Argh, fine," you muttered, finally letting go of the pencil only to grab the annoying envelope. "I'll call you later, today is really a fucked up day for me."

When you heard nothing but women laughing, you just hung up. 'God, it's only ten in the morning and Allen's already having fun. What am I doing wrong with my life?' You vented to yourself, twisting the envelope in your hands as if you were about to open Pandora's box.

With a deft move, you pulled out a postal knife and carefully cut open the envelope to gain access to its contents. Time stood still for you as your hands involuntarily reached for a beautifully decorated card that could definitely be a wedding invitation. After a short exhalation, you opened it and it took you several minutes to process what you had just seen, as you thought you were hallucinating.

The card had the following text:

“The honor of your presence is requested at the marriage of

Evelyn Arwyn Williams And Patrick Pierce Bateman

Saturday, the twentieth of October nineteen hundred and eighty-seven at twelve o'clock in the afternoon

Ziegfeld Ballroom 141 W 54th St New York, NY 10019.”

The card fell from your hands without any resistance. You felt dizzy, even nauseous, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the office and you were literally suffocating.

'How dare…' you cursed to yourself, grabbing the collar of your blouse in a feint attempt to unbutton it from the burning itch on your skin, '…you…fucking bastard!'

Dazed, you stood up faster than you should have, making your head spin and nearly knocking you over if you hadn't leaned on the back of your chair. You need some fresh air or a sip of heavy alcohol or a fucking gram. Something that will take you out of this situation, even if only for a moment.

"Boss?" Vincent's worried voice came out of nowhere. "Are you okay?"

Panting, you shot an angry glance at your table, then at your lovely assistant, whose bright eyes were like two glowing beacons. "Vincent, listen," you stammered, unable to find the right words. "Can you please order me a ticket," you closed your eyes for a second, counted to ten and gripped the back of your chair. "…to New York."

"New York? Something wrong?"

"N-no," you managed to laugh off your tension and stop grazing the leather under your fingernails. "It's just… seems like I have some deals to settle in New York, some old ones I thought were closed."

"Only one ticket or…"

"I need a ticket in both directions, of course," you mumbled nervously before taking a coffee and finishing it in one go, thankfully it became less hot. "I won't be there for long," you said as if you were trying to convince yourself, desperately trying. It was only when you met Vincent's eyes that you noticed his sad look and realized that you might have upset him. "Uh, I really wish I could take you with me… but I want someone to look after things here and…"

The dark-haired man smiled sympathetically, and that helped to calm you a little. "Oh, please, don't apologize; it's my job," he said, visibly relaxed, considering his casual pose with his hands in the pockets of his Armani trousers. "I'm just worried about you, I don't want anything bad to happen."

Slightly embarrassed, you couldn't help but grin sincerely. "Ah, Vincent, you're such a sweetheart," you rumbled with undisguised amusement. "Everything will be fine. I promise, you have nothing to worry about."

"All right, then," Vincent pulled himself up and opened the door. "I'll let you know when I have information about your flights."

After that you were left alone again. The muffled din of the city outside the office could be heard faintly whenever you walked past the windows, restlessly making circles around the room.

'Maybe I should just ignore it? Maybe it's just a bad joke and I should call Tim and ask him about it?' You covered your face with your palms before sighing tiredly. Once again, Bateman was forcing you to make strange decisions and you hated it. You hated him, you hated the wedding that hasn't even happened yet, and you hated yourself for being so easily overwhelmed.

No way in hell did you expect to visit New York too soon after you left the city and everything that happened there behind your back the moment you took your seat in an airplane to Chicago. And who would dare to judge you for that? Right, no one but you.

The wedding was supposed to be tomorrow, so you had some time to prepare for… for what? Yawning, you stretched your legs in the uncomfortable backseat of the taxi, the driver asking you where you were from and if you had ever been to New York. And at some point you felt sad because you really wanted to say no, you haven't. But you did, and only God knew how hard it had been for you to survive the past months of constant self-digging and dead-end conversations with your vicious subconscious.

Thanks to Vincent, you didn't have to worry about where to stay in New York, as he booked you a luxury suit at the Plaza Hotel. Ah, Vincent…that boy was so sweet that sometimes you could even believe in supernatural beings, as if life was trying to make amends for the unpleasant situation with Bateman.

Sitting on the big bed, you tried your best not to have a panic attack or, even worse, go crazy and empty the minibar, drinking as much as you could as if tomorrow would never come. 'Gosh, I'd sell my soul to see Bateman's face if I came to the wedding being completely drunk.’ With a silly smile on your face, you kept dreaming about some nonsense to distract yourself until the night came and you had to get some sleep before the wedding.

The next day started terribly when some random maid came early and mixed up your suit with someone else's. In the end, you couldn't say that you were rested enough, but you didn't have much time and you still had to come up with an idea for your outfit. 'Should I wear something extravagant or perhaps something more modest?' You spun around in front of the large mirror, the clock was ticking and that sound was really getting on your nerves.

"Uh, to hell with it…" you cursed to yourself and finally picked out a blue Gucci suit that fit your figure perfectly. "I don't want to overshadow the groom."

Winking at your own reflection, you added a few accessories before leaving the Plaza, where a beautiful Cadillac was waiting for you. A driver opened the back door for you, smiled politely, and at some point you even began to think that this day wouldn't be as shitty as it promised to be.

By the time you arrived at the Ziegfeld Ballroom, it was already quite crowded, with many luxury cars lining the street, delivering more and more stylishly dressed guests. With a heavy heart, you held an invitation in your hand and fought the urge to tear it apart and tell the driver to drive away. The sudden appearance of Courtney and Luis in your vision pulled you out of your doubts. 'So that bastard even invited Courtney,' you hummed and slowly opened the door to get out of the car.

All the way to the Ziegfeld Ballroom, you tried to be careful not to bump into anyone you didn't really want to interact with, like Timothy, Craig, David, Paul… Even though you were sure it was going to happen one way or another, you still didn't want to face reality too soon.

Inside the huge hall, you stopped near the long banquet table decorated with white and red roses—the whole style of the wedding screamed Evelyn. Nothing special, though, Bateman probably didn't care about such things as wedding decorations.

Taking a glass of champagne, you moved deeper into the hall and watched the guests split into groups. Still, you were lucky because you didn't see any familiar faces, even Luis and Courtney got lost somewhere among the faceless yuppies and their dates. Everything seemed fine, you had a plan to see the couple get married and then… slip away? It was such a stupid plan, but at least you had one.

Puzzled, you told yourself to leave all thoughts to the latter, when you wouldn't be so vulnerable, staying in the middle of the ballroom and watching the several waitresses bringing more and more appetizers. You were even about to try one of them when you accidentally noticed Tim and Craig coming your way. Trembling, you almost dropped the glass, but somehow you managed to put it on the nearby table, startling a waitress with your erratic behavior, but you didn't care.

As fast as you could, you rushed in a different direction from the group of your former friends, desperately searching for any room you could get into. Your pulse pounded in your eardrums, forcing you to open the first door and enter.

Breathing heavily, you pressed your back against the door and closed your eyes for a second, only to open them in a blood-chilling shock as you met a pair of hazel, dark eyes as bewildering as your own.

"You?" Bateman's startled voice bounced off the walls of the small bathroom, his face frozen in a confused grimace as if he couldn't believe his eyes. "What the fuck are you doing in here?"

"Me? You invited me, you fool!" You barked back, pulling away from the door and moving toward the brown-haired man. "Have you forgotten already?"

Patrick looked absolutely stunning in his wedding tuxedo, the black bow tie being the cherry on top of his impeccably styled appearance. For a brief moment, Bateman studied your angry expression, his thick eyelashes batting like bird wings.

"It was Evelyn," he replied curly, standing still. "How delusional you must be to think I would invite you?"

Crossing his arms, Patrick smiled, and at first glance he seemed calm, but his slightly trembling lips betrayed him. With a soft chuckle, you moved closer until you noticed a beautiful bride's bouquet—a combination of roses again.

"So did Evelyn get what she wanted? I can see her in every little detail of this wedding. The Ziegfeld Ballroom was her idea too?"

The man sighed wearily and rubbed the bridge of his nose briefly. "No, my mother insisted."

"Oh," you beamed, carefully taking the bouquet in your noticeably shaking hands. "How sweet."

With a quick movement, Patrick snatched the flowers out of your hands and placed them back on the bathroom counter. "I had to walk around with this bouquet like an idiot, because I didn't even see Evelyn all this time!"

Such an outburst made you pause for a moment. "Relax, Bateman," you pretended to cheer him up. "Soon you'll be a family man."

The words forced him to clench his teeth as if they caused him physical pain. "Why did you come here, (y/n)?"

"Do you have any ideas?"

The distance between the two of you became smaller and smaller, melting like ice under the burning sun. You didn't even notice that every time he spoke, you couldn't take your eyes off his plump lips, his perfectly shaped chin that you wanted to touch, the way his eyebrows curled… God, you shouldn't have come here in the first place…

"I'm not gonna play your games anymore," Patrick suddenly blurted out, pulling you out of your lewd dreams. "If you came here just to get on my nerves, I'll tell security to kick you out."

"Woah, woah," you jerked back as Bateman stepped closer, your foreheads almost bumping into each other. "You seem very tense, marriage is a stressful thing, right?"

You continued to back away until you hit the wall behind you, and in the next second, the man caught you between his arms, placing them on either side of your trembling little form.

"Bateman?" You asked him breathlessly.

Frowning, he leaned down. You thought he was going to kiss you, but he just gasped and turned away. "I hate you," those words hurt you more than you could ever imagine. "Do you see these hands?" He asked, raising his hand and bringing it closer to your face. "I could break your neck so easily and watch your dead body fall to the ground."

A creeping fear rippled through your chest as he spoke. "You're kidding, right?" You tried to make a joke out of it, but as he tightened his grip around your throat like an iron ring, a muffled whimper escaped your tense lungs. "Ahh, w-what…"

Instead of actually hurting you, the dark-haired man brought you closer, so that your lips finally collided and the way you kissed was beyond any normalcy of kissing. Growling like a beast, Patrick literally bit into your trembling lips, almost tearing the soft flesh away, his grasp on your neck never loosening, only tightening when you dared to hug his shoulders, snuggling against him.

"Fuck," you cursed as he pulled away to nip at your neck. "You… scared the shit out of me! You psy…"

His hand abruptly covered your mouth, not letting you finish what you were about to say. "You came here because you couldn't forget me, huh? Because you are so fucking miserable in Chicago and no one gives a fuck about you?"

With your eyes shut tight, you whimpered against his palm at the faint physical contact with his hard groin. It was already too much, but then you heard a soft click of the door lock. 'Am I really going to die?' The thought alone made your knees weak. Meanwhile, Bateman was nuzzling against your cheek, inhaling your scent like an animal in rut, and you couldn't do anything, trapped in the strong arms you'd been dreaming about all these months.

The question he asked hung in the air for some time, even after Patrick removed his hand, waiting for your answer, you couldn't speak because… he was right. But to admit it would mean that you had lost. Lost in your own game.

"Why did you run away from me?" The man asked unexpectedly, his whole mood changing from wild to sad, bordering on despair. "Tell me!"

"I thought it would be better for both of us, okay?" You hated yourself for not finding better words, but it was so damn hard to think in a situation like this. "And I still think so."

With a wry grin, the man distanced himself a bit. "And that's why you're here with me… in some random bathroom… in the middle of my wedding?"

It did look familiar. That fleeting moment you gave in to temptation in the Tunnel that changed your life forever and for which you're still paying the price.

"You don't love her, do you?" You didn't even recognize your own voice.

"It's none of your business," Bateman replied before lowering his palm to your hip and squeezing it. "Now get on your knees, I don't have much time."

The audacity of this man was unbearable. Embarrassed but extremely aroused, you stifled a moan from the way he stroked your ass, encouraging you to obey. Biting your lower lip, you remembered how delicious this man tasted—a memory that haunted you every day—you should have resisted, you should have just stopped everything here and now, because there would be no happy ending.

‘I should have, but I can't,’ these six words flashed through your cloudy mind as you slid down the wall to meet the visible bulge in Patrick's tight pants.

"Good, good," he praised, casually unfastening his jacket and then his belt, just as you saw his white suspenders hugging his shoulders so deliciously that you had to hold your breath. "God, if I knew Evelyn was going to give me a wedding present like that, I'd postpone the wedding."

"You're a sick man," you murmured, but he just chuckled. "I hope you know that?"

"So are you.”

There was a small lounge chair in the other corner of the bathroom, and the moment Bateman saw it, you knew what he would do. Smirking mischievously, the man lifted you up with practiced ease and moved you to the chair, sitting down and spreading his toned legs so you could take your place between them. Patrick used all the self-control he had left to undo his pants without actually tearing them apart, his erection jutting out the moment he lowered the confines of his garments.

This scene made you lick your lips with undisguised hunger. Slowly, you leaned down between his wide-open legs and teasingly took his swollen tip into your mouth, then pulled away. "You're going to marry a woman who can't suck you off better than me, aren't you?"

Instead of taunting you back, the man grabbed the back of your head and made you take him deeper until your nose rubbed against his thick pubic hair, but it was still not enough, his cock was too big.

"Ahhh, what's that? Your mouth is too small to take me in?" Bateman commented cheekily as he watched your eyes get wet as you gagged. "You can only use it to say shit, but when it comes to real business…" the man pushed into your mouth again, fixing your head in one place. "…it doesn't seem to be useful."

"Mhmm," you tried to slip out of his grip, but he held you deadly tight. At one point you even wanted to use your teeth, but fortunately a loud commotion from outside attracted Patrick's attention and he let you go. "You…you are so pathetic…" you coughed several times, understanding that your end was near. "Even in a moment like this…you can't keep quiet! Like a fucking chatterbox…"

You wanted to say something else, but the way Bateman's dick pressed against your cheek, the weight of it, the warmth, it was all too overwhelming for both you and him, considering how tense Patrick's face was when you let his erection slide along your jaw as you descended lower to tease his sensitive balls with your tongue.

"Oh-fuck…" The man gasped, tilting his head back to lean against the wall and mumbling something incoherently.

Ashamed of what you were doing, you paused for a second, wondering what consequences awaited the two of you in the future. But all your attempts to stop yourself from falling into the abyss of consuming depravity were mercilessly crushed by reality— Bateman, all spread out for you, his cheeks blushing slightly as he enjoyed the oral pleasure you were giving him. This reality hit too hard. After all, you were enjoying that dick as well.

"So let it happen," you murmured suddenly before you wrapped your wet lips, covered with your saliva and his pre-cum, around his blushing shaft once more, your hands still rubbing his heavy sac. His skin was so soft there that you literally wanted to scream.

"W-what?" The man asked suddenly, as if he had just woken up from the enticing spell. "What are you talking about… are you so cock drunk that your brain can't function?"

At first, dirty talk like that could be really arousing, but now, hearing it for the hundredth time in a row, it was more amusing than hot. Without saying anything, you raised your eyes to him, your sneaky fingers delving deeper between his legs to stroke the rim of his tight muscles. A throaty moan escaped his suddenly dry lips. 'Cock drunk, huh?' You were proud of yourself, having a man like Patrick in a chokehold with your deliberate ministrations.

"Look at you, Bateman, you're such a naughty boy who loves it when someone plays with his ass?" You teased in between heavy gasps, as sucking such a huge cock was quite a challenge. "Does Evelyn even know about this?

Clenching his teeth, he tried to pull at your hair, but you dodged, pressing your finger persistently against his tight asshole before gently probing it, and you could swear to God, if heaven really existed, you wanted Patrick's moans to be music there.

"Uh, you're such a brat, babe," that nickname made you freeze. "This is going to end you one day…" His eyes rolled back into his head as you pushed your finger deeper into him, using a small amount of liquid on it as a lubricant. "(Y/n), you seem to need to bother your hands with something else…" you gave him a questioning look and he grinned in satisfaction, admiring the way his veiny, leaking dick slipped in and out of your lips. "Touch yourself… I know you want to…"

Fucking bastard. Why did he have to say it now? His words involuntarily triggered the memories of the lonely nights you spent in Chicago, masturbating almost every day when you thought of Patrick, telling yourself that he probably did the same. After all, maybe that was true?

As you pulled his cock out of your wet mouth, you quickly undid your belt and then your pants, pulling them down like an obstacle standing between you and mind-blowing pleasure. Locking your eyes with his walnut ones, you got up and tugged at the lapels of his jacket, forcing him to bend over so you could kiss him. Bateman didn't flinch, kissing you back, tasting himself on your lips and sucking on your tongue as you moaned shamelessly. Afterwards, you slipped a finger into his mouth and he licked it obediently before taking it inside.

"Oh, Patrick," you gasped before sitting down. "Why can't it be like this all the time?"

The brown-haired man smiled, exactly that smile that could make you commit a crime, how charming it was, it made you want to cry here and now.

Silently, Patrick leaned down to take your hand and place it between your legs, then he took your other hand and brought it back to his engorged dick, forcing you to resume your ministrations and from that moment on, you just let yourself go.

Rubbing your most sensitive spot, you whimpered and closed your eyes as you jerked him off, feeling the drops of his warm pre-cum dripping down your palm. Your orgasm was looming somewhere near, but it felt like the pleasure of your own hand was not enough. Bateman, as if he could read your mind, suddenly lifted you up by your shoulders, made you straddle him, and in the next moment you let him impale you on his thick cock, giving you the abundance you thought you had lost forever. A loud shriek echoed off the marble walls of the bathroom, a sound that made Patrick grin even more arrogantly as he knew that no one but him could make you feel complete.

He fucking knew it.

Groaning, the man grabbed your hips and set the pace, and at some point you found yourself riding him with pure abandon, literally bouncing on his beefy cock. "A-ahhh, Patrick, yes! Fuck-fuck me, just like that!" You mewled into his ear as he spanked your ass, squeezed your buttocks and spread them. "Mmhm…holy…shit…"

Another slap made you tremble on his lap. "So fucking needy for me," Bateman purred in a husky voice, his hair a mess, you managed to undo his bow tie and several top buttons to stroke his bulging chest. "Argh, you gonna make me cum, babe."

With that, he began to thrust his hips up, meeting yours with a shameless slapping sound. Dumbfounded, you were also so close, but you wanted him to fall first. Passionately rocking back and forth, you wrapped your hands around his neck, catching him off guard.

"You…you missed me just like I missed you…" That was more a statement than a question but the man didn't say anything, he just nodded with his eyes closed as he was completely lost in the embrace of incoming rapture. "SAY IT!" You nearly beat him into his chest. "Say…it…you bastard!"

Your crying compelled him to open his brown eyes which now were so dark, you could draw in them. "Yeah…" Each word was so hard for him to pronounce as his hips began to shake. "…I…I've missed you…too!" Patrick had to hide his face into the crook of your neck and before you knew it, the man bit into your soft flesh to the point of blood.

"A-AWWW, PATRICK!" You whimpered when you felt him exploding inside of you, shooting his hot load and sinking his teeth even deeper, holding you tightly in his strong arms.

"Shhh," the man strived to shush you, licking the fresh wound on your throat. "Just…take it…"

Still trembling, Bateman squeezed your hips so painfully, that you instinctively tried to pull away but he didn't allow you to. Sobbing, you cursed yourself for forgetting how rough he could be or…maybe you simply didn't know about this side of him? By the time Patrick stopped shaking, you were pumped with his seed till the brink, it was pouring out, staining the furniture beneath you, but no one cared. You sat like that for a moment until you began to move again as you still didn't reach your climax. With every buck of your hips against his, you hoped he would understand what you were asking for, but as soon as you reached out to kiss him, the man indifferently pulled away, tapping on your hip.

"Get up," Patrick commanded you, a bit annoyed.

"W-what?"

Bateman didn't repeat, taking you off from his lap before standing up on his feet and zipping his pants. Lost and confused, you sat on the floor, watching him sliding his hair back, opening the faucet and cleaning his face.

What the fuck was that?

"Bateman?" You stammered, finding yourself in the most humiliating position ever.

"You better clean yourself up, too," he commented briefly without looking at you, his voice drenched in venom. "You don't want the guests to think someone brought a hooker here, do you?"

Furrowing your brows, you ran a hand down your tear streaked cheek. "You're going to stop talking to me like that, or…"

"Or what?"

Anger and despair mixed together in a cocktail of pure madness. You wanted to fucking beat this man until he begged for mercy, but unfortunately, it was you sitting on the cold floor with your bare ass, his cum flowing shamelessly between your thighs.

"Fucking scumbag!" You yelled, picking up your shoe to throw it at him, but he quickly moved aside. "You're going to regret this…pathetic…"

Bateman started to say something but was distracted by several female voices. He checked himself in the mirror for the last time and finally spared you with his pitiful look. "You're going to walk around my WEDDING with my SEED inside you. Maybe you should look in the mirror and think about who's really pathetic in this room?"

And then he left.

Being left like that has set your body on fire, your nervous system was on the verge of bursting, but you managed to pull yourself together, gritting your teeth to suppress a loud scream. You felt nauseous, the bite on your neck was bleeding and aching, you were even afraid to touch it. Knowing that the door was now unlocked, you couldn't sit there any longer, so you gathered all the strength you had left to pull yourself up and get dressed. Then you slowly moved to the place where Patrick had been standing moments ago…but it felt like it had been so long ago, as time had stopped. After you cleaned yourself, you were really lucky to find a first aid kit, so you managed to clean your wound as well.

The ceremony had already begun when you finally decided to leave the bathroom. Dazed, you stumbled around like you were drunk. You couldn't remember how you found your way to the main event, where a large altar awaited the newlyweds.

All the guests were in their seats, and you moved stealthily, trying not to attract unwanted attention. The last row of chairs was almost empty, and when you suddenly recognized Timothy Bryce, lonely sitting there, you didn't hesitate to sit next to him.

"Well, well, well," you mused, a little cheered up. "Hello, Bryce."

The dark-haired man almost jumped in his seat when he saw you. "Jesus Christ, (y/n)? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Mmhm, Evelyn invited me."

Timothy visibly grew sadder. " Right…she probably tried to invite all the people in New York."

This sudden change in his demeanor confused you. "Tim? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

The music began to play exactly when you opened your mouth to ask some more curious questions. Soon, the priest and several other people appeared in the alley. They walked up to the altar, everyone around was excited to see the main stars of this event. And as if that were not enough, some women in front of you began to cheer so loudly that you had to cover your ears.

"Stupid bitches." Tim grumbled as he sat back.

"Craig and David…where are they?"

Bryce pointed to other seats that were almost next to the altar. "They're with their chicks and they want the best seats."

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, avoiding craning your neck when it wasn't needed because it still hurt. "I see…and I thought they were doing coke without you."

"They did."

"Really? And what about you?"

The man sighed. "No coke is enough to get lost."

Now it was even stranger.

Another loud reaction from the guests signaled that something was starting to happen. You have to stand up a little to see the tall figure moving down the alley—it was Bateman, looking like he was not the one who fucked you in the small bathroom an hour ago. The way he smiled at the guests made you want to puke. Timothy noticed your trepidation and narrowed his eyes curiously.

"Are you okay?" He asked, not paying attention to what was happening near the altar. "You look unhealthy."

"I… I'm fine, it's just… it's very hot in here." You wanted to loosen your collar, but then you remembered the bite, so you had to sit like that.

In a few minutes the music changed and then Evelyn appeared, accompanied by her father who led her to the altar where Patrick was waiting for her. You held your breath and bit the inside of your cheek, but you forced yourself to look at the way Bateman took Evelyn's hands in his, touching them with absolute tenderness. A single drop of sweat trickled down your forehead and you probably intended to chew your cheek until it bled, but you didn't care. Nothing mattered now, nothing could hurt you, you felt like a ghost destined to walk the earth in search of its salvation. Only when the priest said that the newlyweds could kiss now, you turned away and so did Tim.

When the official part of the ceremony was over, Patrick and Evelyn walked out of the room towards an unknown destination, you and Bryce just sat there, not even talking, just sitting, as if you had nowhere to go.

"I'll get us some drinks." Timothy suddenly rumbled and stood up as quickly as the idea had occurred to him.

You didn't even have a chance to answer. You closed your eyes and rubbed your face tiredly when you heard a child's voice next to you. Turning sideways, you opened your eyes to see a little girl with a small bag in her hands. "Oh, hi…could you please repeat what I need to do?"

The girl smiled and opened the bag in an inviting gesture. "Pull your hand in and choose your destiny advice!" Giggling, you did as she said. Soon you were unfolding a small piece of paper. "What does it say?" The girl asked with undisguised curiosity.

After you rolled up the paper completely, you could read the text. "Find the courage to face your destiny." You swallowed nervously, on the verge of tears again.

"You didn't like it?" The little girl asked you, her face turning sad as well.

"No! Of course not, thank you very much!" You tried to smile. "You're so sweet, thank you!"

The girl suddenly hugged you. "Please don't be sad!"

And with that, the little child picked up her bag and ran to another person, doing the same thing she did to you. Nervously holding the piece of paper in your sweaty hands, you reread the text until several wet stains appeared on the paper. 'I am such a fool.' Wiping away tears, you heard several footsteps behind you. 'God, what if it's him?'

Excited, you turned to see Tim holding two cocktails. "They don't have anything strong."

You took the drink and watched Bryce sitting next to you. "Thanks Tim."

"No problem," he took a sip before looking at the piece of paper in your hands. "What is this?"

"Uh, nothing, just a childish game." You mumbled and took a sip of your cocktail.

After a minute of total silence, Timothy suddenly rested his arm on the back of his chair. "You know, maybe some coke is not such a bad idea after all," he looked at you, his dull eyes now glinting with a mischievous spark. "And since you're here… do you have any plans?"

"No," you replied frankly. "I… I have no plans, Bryce."

Nodding to himself, the man sat a little closer. "What about you coming to my place?"

Fidgeting in your chair, you wanted to turn to face him, but instead you hissed in pain, how crazy must the man be to leave such a mark? You crumpled the piece of paper in your fist and felt your nails digging into your skin, but still no pain came.

"Why not?" You finally replied, giving Bryce a smile he couldn't ignore as he smiled back.

'When one door closes, another always opens.' Was that what the taxi driver told you yesterday? A quote that had made you cringe in skepticism now played with different colors. But in the end, life was a good thing, even when you thought it was not.

Right?

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

2x12

spencer reid x morgan!reader

note: i got carried away with this one...

warnings: Sarah calls Spencer 'freaky' (lovingly), murder, eating/food

wordcount: 2388

Spencer was showing the girl’s his ‘physics magic’ when he got a little too comfortable and almost hit Hotch on his way into the bullpen. The girl’s pretended to not be involved as Hotch picked up the ‘rocket’ and looked at Spencer, “Physics magic?” “Yes, sir.” “Reid, we talked about this.” “I’m sorry, sir.”

The tense air in the room dissipated when Hotch placed the ‘rocket’ on the young man’s desk and said, “You’re starting to get some distance on those.”

The girls gathered back around the desk seemingly to have forgotten whatever they were doing that made them innocent to the physics magic happening.

“So he does have a sense of humour?” “Sometimes.” Spencer replied back to Emily, him and Y/n always seemed to be able to get him out of his usual stoic nature.

“So hey. Where’s the Morgans?” The brunette woman asked, Spencer once again had the answer, “Chicago. They go every year for their mother’s birthday.”

-

Derek and Y/n were walking out of the corner store and they got a couple things for their older sister, Sarah, before heading back home.

“You really think she’s got enough butter?” “Hey, y’know Sarah, if she doesn’t put it on the list, she doesn’t need it. She doesn’t make mistakes.” The younger girl said sarcastically, before they turned the corner to see Rodney and his guys.

“Y/n! Lookin’ good. I mean, damn, you’ve filled out in all the right places since you left.” “Step off, Rodney. Y/n/n get in the car.” “C’mon, D.” “I said get in the car.” Y/n accepted the defeat, whenever they got back to Chicago it was back to when they were kids, Y/n was a young helpless girl until big brother Derek came to the rescue.

“That’s okay, baby, I’ll get with you a little later, huh?” “In your dreams, Rodney.” “Most definitely. All night long, baby girl.”

Big brother Derek made his presence known, “You better step off before I make you wish you never walked up on me.” “Oh what? You two some bad-asses now ‘cause they pay you to wear that gun, Mr and Miss F.B.I?” “Rodney, he’s proved before he doesn’t need a gun to take you out.” “Past history? That’s a dangerous thing for you to count on, baby.” “Rodney. Walk away.”

Rodney laughs in Derek’s face, “Y/n/n, I’ll get at you a little later.” “Go to hell.” Rodney and his guys left around the corner, Derek motioned with his arm to get in the car, “C’mon, I’ll take you home. Then there’s something I gotta do.”

-

The five of them sat around the dinner table as Desi brought the cake in from the kitchen and Derek counted them in. “One, two, three” And they all sang happy birthday to their mom.

Their mom, of course, couldn’t have a moment just about her, even after Derek said ‘Go ahead, momma’ she didn’t blow out the candles before praising her second youngest’s effort.

“Did you make this yourself?” Desi replied, “Oh, Sarah and Y/n helped me.” “Momma, they wouldn’t let me help so I don’t know how good it’s gonna taste.” Derek said, teasing his sisters. But Sarah always made sure to put D in his place, “Oh, no, no, you remember that Christmas fiasco of 1994?”

“I remember that.” “The fire!” “Oh, that was bad.”

“Whatever, that was 12 years ago! Let it go!” “No, no, no, we still get cards from the fire department.” “Serious?” Y/n asked from her spot next to her older sister.

“Mama, you see how they treat your baby boy?” “You be good to your brother.” “Uh-huh, what she said!” “You got the ‘baby’ part right at least.” Y/n mumbled, intended for Sarah to hear but she spoke a little loud.

“Okay you know what?” “Hey!" “You better watch out!” The siblings fought over the table. “What? What?” “All right!”

Their fighting could only be put to rest by their mom. And when she did, they got back to her blowing out her candles, “Okay, wish, a wish..”

And cheering began as their mom finally blew out her candles.

-

“What is it?” The siblings laughed from their scattered places on the couch, watching their mom open her gifts. It was Derek’s turn and he explained to their mom what he got her and how she can use it. After some teasing Sarah and Desi started cleaning up a little so Y/n and Derek could catch up more with their mom since they don’t get to see her as much.

“We miss you two around here.” “I know.” Y/n leant her head on the older woman’s shoulder as she was holding Derek’s hand. Derek usually covered this for them, he knew Y/n felt guilty for not being around more so he was always the one to explain it to their mom.

“You’re careful right? I lost your dad. I can’t lose you two.” “You won’t.” “And watch after this one she was always the trouble maker.” “I do.”

She patted her son’s hand before she got back to the teasing, something the Morgan’s were very good at, “Good, cause you owe me some grandbabies.” “Look at her, she’s got the genius wrapped around her finger.” “D, give that up!”

This was not the first time their mom had heard about Spencer. Derek loved bringing it up to deflect questions off of him.

"That Doctor you work with? Are you two together now? Why didn't you mention it, baby?"

But suddenly a loud and persistent knocking on the door broke the family from their chatter. “Saved by the bell! Get it, D, you’re closest.” Detek swatted at his little sister before getting the door. And it was Sheriff Gordinski.

“Gordinski?” “You armed?” “Excuse me?” “Are you wearing a gun?” “No, not right now.” “Then turn around.” Derek laughed, he’s an FBI agent who does Gordinski think he is? Was all Y/n could think.

“You’re under arrest, Derek.”

-

“C’mon Wally, you got to tell me something, my team is on the case!” “I don’t answer to you, Morgan.” “You called in FBI? I’m FBI.”

The woman was standing, towering over Wally as he sat on his desk not giving her a second glance, he never respected her and he wasn’t gonna start now.

“Special Agent Hotchner, FBI, I’m looking for-” He brilliant and stoic voice of her boss, Hotch, cut through the background chatter of the station.

Y/n quickly discarded Wally after seeing the team making her way over to them and interrupting an officer at his desk that Hotch originally asked, “Oh, Hotch- Chuck, I got this.” She liked Chuck. He was one the alright guys, he’d helped her get out of a lot back in the day.

“How’re you guys doing? I’m Wally Dennison, CPD.” “Unimportant. The only reason he’s left hand man is ‘cause he does whatever Gordi tells him to.” Hotch seemingly moved right past the comment, “Where’s Agent Morgan?” “Detective Gordinski’s in with the suspect now.” “I need to see him.” And for the millionth time, Wally gets in over his head and has no idea what and where his place is. As he walked away the girl mumbled, “I don’t like them calling D a ‘suspect’” into JJ’s shoulder as the older woman gave her a side hug.

-

Gordinski finally came out from wherever he was, letting Hotch go in to talk to Derek. Gordi went on to tell Gideon how helpful his profile was in arresting Derek. Worst part was he never cared to hide his distaste for the man, calling Derek a ‘son of a bitch’. That racist bastard! Was all Y/b could think.

Spencer could see the signs of anger in Y/n the way she was scratching her skin, he always hated it when she did it. Luckily she only did when she was mad, which was not a lot, but right now she was really mad. Spencer cut her off when he saw she was going to say something that definitely shouldn’t come out of an FBI agent’s mouth.

“Detective, a profile’s just a guide.” “This one guided me to him.” “They’re really more useful in the elimination of suspects-” “Not the inclusion. Gordi, you got the wrong guy.” She mumbled, not quietly.

Gordinski walked the team through his flawed work, he showed them the coincidences he’s found and the circumstantial evidence he’s collected.

Spencer reached down and grabbed Y/n’s hand from where it was scratching her skin and brought it towards him to hold, biether thought too much of the gesture, but JJ did and made sure she’d tell Garcia about it when this was all cleared up.

“There are key pieces of the profile that don’t fit, Detective. The age, 25-35, Morgan was 15 or so at the time.” “Also says that age is the hardest to predict.” He had a point there, “-And I should never exclude someone simply because of a discrepancy with the age.”

“What about the speculation that since he didn’t manage to leave any evidence at the scene of the crime that he most likely has a criminal record or previous law enforcement knowledge? Derek wasn’t even in the bureau yet when the first body was found.”

She knew Gordi was gonna break the news so Y/n did it for him, maybe that in some way will she Gordinski that Derek wasn’t hiding that, “Derek, had a criminal record.”

-

Gordinski was back at his desk now, the team had a quiet discussion without his input. Finally.

“Y/n, you bring Prentiss and Reid to talk to your family. Learn all about him, especially at the time of the first murder.”

“I don’t have a car, one of the cops brought me down.”

“I can take you.” Wally seemed to cut in out of nowhere, and with how much he annoys Y/n she was quick to jump on him for it, “Wally, we don’t need-” “No, actually, that’s not a bad idea.” Gideon said. “Right. Lead the way, Walls.”

-

“Is Derek alright?” “He wouldn’t let us go down there, Y/n luckily convinced him to let her go.” Y/n’s mom added on to her older sister's initial question “He’s fine. Our boss is with him.” “He’s okay, momma.” Y/n reassured further after Emily.

“Did they he and Y/n tell you Gordinski’s been harassing him since he was a kid?” “Whys that?” Spencer asked, innocently, not realising he was asking Sarah, “You’d have to ask the bastard.” Y/n was sat in the chair in front of him, reaching her hand back and patted Spencer’s arm in sympathy, as their mom shared her disappointment with Sarah’s harsh words.

Wally had some things to say that only made Sarah more riled up, “What are you even doing in my mother’s house?!” “They asked me.” “Not really.” Spencer mumbled, eating the piece of cake.

“I don’t understand how they could think he did this.” “Someone may be trying to make it look like he hurt those kids.” “And the police believe it?” “But he’s an FBI agent.” Desi cut, Y/n was about to gently tell her sister that in an investigation that doesn’t really matter, but of course Spencer cut in with his ever present knowledge.

“Actually, law enforcement officials are just as probable statistically to commit a crime as anyone else.” Y/n placed her head in her hands, she loved hearing Spencer talk about what he knows but sometimes- he just can’t read a room “Look at the cross-section of a society, there’s a general population and a small fraction of this percentage is-” “Momma, he’s not saying they believe D is involved in this.” “Oh, no, no! Yeah, not at all! I’m merely speaking theoretically.”

Sarah almost looks at him like he’s crazy, and Desi speaks up from where she’s standing behind their mom, seemingly only talking to embarrass her little sister. “You're Dr. Reid?” “Mhmm.” “Derek and Y/n have talked about you.” And her head falls back onto her hands. “Really?” Spencer says, smugly from his spot above his best friend.

“Derek loves kids. Every time he’s here he goes to the youth centre.” “Youth Centre?” “The Upward Youth Centre.” “Does that have some sort of significance for him?” Spencer cut into Emily and Mrs.Morgan’s conversation to ask, “What are you saying? There’s something in it for him, other than giving back to poor kids of your neighbourhood?” “Sarah, these are me and D’s friends. They’re only here to help. When they ask a question, it isn’t to denigrate or demean anything Derek’s done.” “We just have to know everything so we can figure out where to look next. Does The Youth Centre hold any special significance to him?”

“The Youth Centre saved his life.”

Sarah and their mom explained to Emily and Spencer and maybe even Y/n, since she was too young at the time, the history between Derek and the law and Gordinski.

After hearing about Carl, Emily decided she was headed there next, leaving Y/n and Spencer with her family.

-

Spencer and Y/n were left at her mom’s house till the case eventually closed, and Derek got closure and justice for the boys. But until then,

Y/n knew what the team was doing with this, Y/n was too connected to the case and Spencer stayed with her because he could keep her at a level head.

They continued looking through old stuff of Detek’s and some of all the siblings, Spencer loved seeing the pictures of when Y/n was a child. At this point their job was more so to keep Sarah from freaking and keeping her mom from worrying too much about Derek.

“What’s this one?” “Aww, that was Y/n the week after Derek left for college.” The photo was of a young Y/n with a pout on her lips, it was Spencer’s favourite, she still made that same face from time to time. It was cute.

The women slowly left the dining table and made their way to the living room, watching how the two at the table didn’t even notice. Spencer was too busy looking for more adorable photos and Y/n trying to gather the incriminating ones.

“I thought Derek was just teasing her, but she really does like that freaky genius boy that much.”

~taglist ~

@chrissyclg @pillsbury-doughgirl @the-holy-trinity-l @theillestvillain3 @random000000sblog @flow33didontsmoke

[wannabeschyulersister]

so long, chicago

Without the warmth of your things in the apartment, it looked sad and cold. The boxes that you packed were stacked along the hallway. Movers were scheduled to help you in the next hour.

Your belongings would be traveling across the country with you following.

After one last sweep of the apartment to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything, you stood at the large bay window facing the city. A city that you once considered home.

You’d miss Chicago. You’d miss the people that you’d met. The connections that you formed. The memories. The laughter.

The sound of the front door opening snapped you out of your thoughts. You turned and saw Carmen walk in. You didn’t expect for him to be home anytime soon. You’d hoped that you could avoid the last interaction.

“Hey.” You said softly.

He nodded, “I thought you’d be halfway outta town by now.”

“The movers should be here any minute.”

Carmen took off his coat and placed it on the right hook near the door. Yours would normally go on the left but it was currently sitting on top of one of your suitcases.

“Richie said you stopped by the restaurant last night.”

“Yeah, I wanted to tell him goodbye.”

“I guess that’s nice.”

“You guess?”

“What do you expect for me to say, (Y/n)? I love that you’re abandoning me and everyone you’ve met here?”

“Abandoning you?” You couldn’t believe that he really said that.

“We’ve been together for six fuckin’ years! One day you wake up and realize you don’t want to be with me anymore out of the fuckin’ blue!”

“Out of the blue?,” you raised your voice, “Carmen, I dreaded making that decision for months! You were so out of touch that you didn’t even realize that we had stopped acting like a couple long before I ending things.”

Carmen chuckled bitterly, “That’s not true.”

You hadn’t planned on leaving on ugly terms with Carmen. If anything, you wanted it to be civil. You were huge parts of each other’s lives. Under all of the pain and heartbreak, there was love.

“I was the only person trying in this relationship. You would get home at one or two in the morning and I’d try waiting around just so we can have a conversation after not seeing each other all day. I planned date nights and tried to pry you out of that kitchen to notice that I was practically falling apart at the seams!” You confessed. It hurt you that he hadn’t even noticed.

“Relationships are hard! That why you have to make them work!” Carmen was visibly upset at how the conversation was going.

“I was the only one fighting for this, Carmen! When was the last time you bought me flowers or texted me to see how my day was going? I barely even heard an ‘I love you’.”

“I do love you. So much that I don’t want you to go and move to San Diego. You belong here with me and- and with your friends. People that care about you!”

“Sometimes love isn’t enough. I’m tired, Carmen. Tired of feeling like I don’t mean shit to you. I need to be with someone that wants to be with me. I want someone that won’t make me feel alone when we are together.”

Carmen closed the space between you two. It was the closest he’d been to you in days. He still smelled of the cologne that you bought him for Christmas with a faintness of the cigarette he must’ve smoked before.

“I thought we’d spend the rest of our lives together.” He said softly.

“If you thought so, then why aren’t we married? I’ve had friends in shorter relationships that have taken the next step. I’ve waited for so long for you to ask me to be your wife and every anniversary that passes, I know that it’s not going to happen. I don’t want to leave. I really loved living here. This felt like home more than any place I’ve lived in, but I can’t stay here.”

“I’ve been a fuckin’ selfish asshole. I’m sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am. Please, I’ll make things up to you. I’ll change.”

“And when things get hard? When you get busy and stressed at the restaurant, then what? It goes back to how things were? I can’t put myself through that. I can’t take that chance.” It killed you seeing him so upset but when you broke up with him, it was like you could breathe again.

You were becoming the person that you used to be. You didn’t want to sacrifice yourself for someone else that didn’t give you the time of day.

Three knocks to the front door made you step away from Carmen. You opened the door and saw the movers with a dollie and a couple of extra boxes.

“Excuse me.” You felt Carmen grab his coat and brush past you. Part of you wanted to chase him down and wrap your arms around him. You didn’t want the last image you had of him to be so hurt.

As you watched the movers grab your boxes and take them down to the awaiting truck, you grabbed the letter that you wrote for Carmen. You planned to leave it on the kitchen counter.

You didn’t know if he’d even read it. Maybe he would rip it up into tiny pieces. Maybe he would read it over and over again.

It wasn’t up for you to wonder. You were at peace with your decision and that’s all that mattered.

[lilghostiequinni]

Blood Festival

Main Masterlist Lando Masterlist

Pairing: Girlfriend!female reader x Lando Norris

Warnings: Fluffy,

Summary: Lando's girlfriend is on her period over a race week.

Requested: NO / yes

Lando was one who wanted nothing to do with periods before his girlfriend came along; with his sisters, he would help, but not really.

When he met his girlfriend, Lando experienced a bit of a learning curve.

But he just listened to what she told him, and the learning curve he had was pretty fast because he listened.

One thing, though, is when she gets her period during a race week, it depends on what day it happens and how she feels.

Like if it starts on Thursday, she just stays in the hotel, curled in a ball, and when Lando comes back, he comes with snacks that she likes and dinner.

On Fridays, it's another day she could just stay in the hotel, but she doesn't want to. Usually, she will stay in Lando's driver's room until he's needed on track, then she'll watch the practices.

Or when it's really bad, she will stay at the hotel and just stay in bed until Lando returns, usually with food and chocolate.

But if it came on Saturdays, no matter how much pain she was in, she took enough painkillers to probably be considered a drug addict because there was no way she was missing quali.

She would stay in Lando's driver room with him until he was needed for media or FP3, then when qualifying came she would get up and watch from the garage.

Lando would just hold her between FP3 and Quali, his warm hands on her lower stomach acting as a heating pad, his head in her neck, just holding her as close as he could.

When the engineers talked to him before Quali, he rested his chin on her shoulder and listened to the engineers talk about what could be done.

If it came on Sundays, she would mostly stick with Lando the entire time; even when he went to the fan stage before the race, she would stand off to the side and just watch.

In the garage, she would sometimes stand in front of Lando with her back to his chest, his hands on her lower stomach acting as a very warm heating pad.

Or she would be in front of him, but she would be hugging him as he listened to the engineers; he would always have one arm around her, though.

When it was time for Lando to race, he would give her the sweater or hoodie he had been wearing before.

After the race, he would make sure she was good before going and doing the on-track post-race interview; she would watch the podium and then go to Lando's driver's room, getting everything ready to leave when he returned from interviews and debrief.

Lando would no doubt leave before even Max just to get her back to the comfort of the hotel, only leaving again after they got there to get snacks and take out so she could lay down.

Tags: @poppyflower-22 @samantha-chicago @barcelonaloverf1life @tallrock35 @ellen3101 @llando4norris @mcmuppet @issi-loves-dannyric @1800-love-me @barcelonaloverf1life @hellothere9597

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop

[thefallenangelsgang]

I'm losing my fucking mind

Or: I just saw Lord of the Rings the Musical at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater and my brain chemistry has irreversibly changed

I'm too genuinely scrambled at the moment from travel to make a solid post (I am multiple states away from Illinois and I hate city driving) but I cannot shake the life-changing experience that was.

SPOILERS AHEAD

(Spoiler free tldr: story is changed sometimes severely to make a sub-3hr runtime or to simplify, but the message doesn't get completely lost. Tolkien fan approved)

First issue I can see everyone having is how much the story changes because it does change a lot. Rohan and Gondor being merged is probably the most glaring. I think it works because the show is more focused on the Hobbits (specifically Frodo and Sam). Personally I can look past it. My one issue is the missing Sam monologues (mount doom is a rather swift sequence, I'd have liked to see Sam give his devotion speech and his speech about the shire while waiting to die) those would have made insane songs but alas. The ending still was a gut punch though so it's more a personal preference thing.

First thing that blew me away was the technical aspect. The lighting and set design was GORGEOUS and EVOCATIVE. There were multiple times lighting alone drew me to tears.

The puppetry is immaculate. The nazgul chase is singularly some of the most beautiful choreo I've seen and I'm a slut for puppetry

The cast play all of the instruments live on stage, sometimes while doing choreography (nothing will prepare you to see Legolas holding a fucking trumpet or Boromir strapped into a goddamn accordion)

The costuming is more accurate to the original editions' illustrations which I found endlessly charming. One difference is, for safety (probably OSHA), all the hobbits (and Gollum) wear Sandals. This is never discussed. I love that.

BOROMIR IS KILLED BY HIS OWN SWORD WHICH I CANNOT EXPRESS HOW PERFECT THAT IS NARRATIVELY

GOLLUM PLAYED BY TONY BOZZUTO IS NEARLY INDISTINGUISHABLE FROM ANDY SERKIS

(I am not joking about this. Somehow he has mastered Andy's physicality and voice work. It truly was a sight to behold.)

Saruman/Elrond's actor (dressed as a hobbit) was hanging out in our section during preshow and was having a grand old time.

Bilbo and Frodo were in the main audience bothering people. Frodo was playing a stick and ring game and got absolutely shown up by some 10 year old he invited to play.

The Entmoot took literally 2 minutes (the way I had to stop from HOWLING at that)

I was SOBBING at the end, like actually.

Somehow this production managed to keenly make me feel the ending of Frodo leaving for the Grey Havens more than the movies did. The Irony of Frodo leaving being both a hopeful prayer that there is a place where people bound with trauma and wounds too deep to heal can live in peace without pain and also a grim acceptance that sometimes people cannot recover was STARK

Frodo and Sam really push the narrative of this show up until the end and it hits HARD. God bless this cast with steady work, they all deserve it.

[thebearer]

I know u have a billion requests but I'm dying fir a carmy x reader where she goes into labor

i have one here with willow but i'll write a first time one too with teddy!

Carmen knew it was coming soon, which is why he hovered. Why he rarely let you be alone, the thought of him missing it or something happening made him sick. Tina and Sugar both told him it was a long process, there's no way he'd miss it, but he was still anxious. Worried about a lot of things, thoughts that kept him up at night. Would he be a good dad? Would the birth go ok? What if something happens to the baby? What if something happens to you? What if he gets in a wreck on the way home? What if the baby died in her sleep?

Thoughts that had him throwing up all hours of the night. Your morning sickness was traded in for his own, worrying himself to the point he was sure he had an ulcer.

The phone rang, a Tuesday in August. Still sunny and warm, but with the golden glow that hinted fall was coming soon. Carmen was so busy, trying to approve the new seasonal menu, and for a moment his mind had slipped of all those anxieties. Until he heard your voice.

"I think I'm in labor."

"You think?" Carmen barked, harsher than he meant it to, a wave of guilt flooding over him. "What-What-What do you mean think? Are you ok?"

"Well, my water just broke." You frowned, looking at the puddled under your swollen belly. You paused, a hesitation laying thick in the air between the two of you over the line. "I think it's time."

Carmen was a wreck, swerving and punching the gas in and out of Chicago traffic to get the the brownstone, parking up on the sidewalk, HOA be damned.

You were calm, eerily calm to him, as he threw your bags, all your birthing things into the car, carefully helping you in. "Fuck!" Carmen huffed, hitting his horn for the third time in five minutes.

You gripped the side of the door, trying to breathe like your birthing coach taught you. "Carmy, please." You sighed, regulating your own heart rate. "Stop honking at people before we get shot."

"I'm just... Fuck, you know you think these fuckers would see hazard lights on and move, but everyone's so goddam stupid-"

"Carmen," You grabbed his hand lightly, thumb gliding over his inked fingers calmly. "Just relax. I haven't even really started having contractions, ok? We'll have time." How was it you were in labor and you were the one comforting Carmen? He felt like a jagoff, could practically hear Mikey and Richie's chorusing voices calling him that.

"I'm sorry." Carmen muttered, slumping back into the seat. "I'm just... I'm really fuckin' scared." His knee bounced, hand twitching towards the Spirit's in the center console. It was muscle memory, to reach for the cigarettes when he was anxious. He chose the gum instead, trying his best to cut back for when the baby was here. In case she'd have asthma or something else, and he just didn't want to teach her bad habits.

He wanted to be better. Be better.

Sometimes he wondered if his parents ever had ambitions like that. To be better, do better for their kids. If they did, they didn't stick.

"I know you are." You cooed lightly, running a hand through his damp curls, sweat accumulating at his hair line already. "You're gonna be a good dad, you know that?"

"I hope," Carmen smacked the gum with a shake of his head.

"I know." You beamed at him. "You already do so much for her anyways, and she's not even here, Carmy." He didn't say anything, just kept a white knuckled grip on the wheel, his free holding your hand.

"The only thing you'll be bad at is saying no to her, Carm. I already know that. You're too much of a softy." You giggled, poking him lightly in his bicep.

Carmen's lips twitched, the hints of a smile on his lips. You could feel the wave of a contraction, not overwhelming but uncomfortable, squeezing Carmen's hand lightly, shifting in pain. "What? Are you ok? You good?" Carmen's eyes darted from you to the road.

"Just a little contraction. I'm fine." You sighed gently, rubbing your free hand over the spot you could feel Teddy kicking. "They're still pretty spaced out, so we've got a while."

Carmen let out a shuddered breath, lips quipping in a smile. "She's takin' her time, already? We're doomed. She's gonna be just like her Mama. Late for everything."

You gasped, hitting his shoulder lightly. "And here I was being nice to you!" You bit back a smile. "I am not late for everything. I'm on time for the important stuff. Just late for the things I don't want to go to."

"Signing our marriage license?" Carmen lifted a brow. "You didn't want to do that-"

"-No, no, no! You dressed up and I looked like a bum, so I had to get ready!" You countered lightly, jabbing a finger at him.

"I didn't dress up! I wore jeans-"

"-And a nice button down. Not a t-shirt? That's dressing up, Carm, and you know it." You frowned at him. "I had a pair of bike shorts on."

"And you looked hot in them." Carmen grinned, eyes glinting when he looked at you, making you blush, heat rushing to your cheeks and chest. Your own nerves settling, your own what-ifs and fears of giving birth, of being a mother in general.

"Looked better in the dress." Carmen added, lifting your hand to kiss the back of your knuckles. You rolled your eyes lightly, heart fluttering. The white sundress you'd put on, patterned with a floral print but the only white dress you owned, and Carmen had swooned. Flipped it up and fucked you in the back seat after you'd signed it.

"Surprised I didn't get pregnant after that." You grinned, breath hitching at another contraction, dull but stronger this time.

Carmen's eyes cut to yours, thumb running over your knuckles at the pressure. "Can't believe we're having a baby." Carmen muttered, flicking on the turn signal, the hospital in sight.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

🪱🧠 Wiggly Wednesday 🧠🪱

this week, i was tagged by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation, @steddieas-shegoes, and @matchingbatbites!

this is one that i’ve had in my head for a LOONNNG time now, way before the song got big, even before @melonalemonade’s Zteevposting, so it’s always been Djo and Caroline BUT:

steve, robin, and eddie who all move to chicago together after vecna.

eddie, who gets offered a contract after a show sometime after they’ve arrived and before the thing between him and steve becomes something, and leaves to LA to fulfil the contact.

i’m my head it’s angsty; eddie and steve’s something becoming a Something™ the night before eddie leaves… a fact he doesn’t tell steve.

the record label squeezes two mediocre albums out of him and his image and eddie comes back to chicago, starts working as a gig manager for the same club/bar he got his not so great break at.

he hasn’t spoken to steve or robin in all the time he was gone (not that he necessarily didn’t want to, but could a) never drum up the balls to try calling steve, and b) didn’t want to incur the wrath of robin by calling her).

so he works. he pulls in some gigs with real promise, but a lot of duds.

one night, he gets to the club halfway through the set time of tonight’s act, one that his assistant signed up, and decides to look in on them after going through his paperwork for the evening. (you can’t say he isn’t a responsible part-owner)

there’s just one person on stage, wait, nope. two. one at the mic with a guitar and one out of the spotlight at a keyboard.

“Okay—for this next one.. I gotta tell you, it’s weird being back in this town.” the man on mic says, his oddly fake-looking mustache scrunching with a smirk. His voice is oddly familiar…

“I lived here a good couple years ago now, and things going to shit is what started all this.” he gestures around to the stage and crowd. “So, here’s one for you, Chicago.”

he pushes a loose hair of his.. wig?? (wig and mustache?? really?) out of his face and starts to play.

the tune is good. really good. really really good. so good that he is blindly waving down his assistant for the artist’s info.

he doesn’t take his eyes off the man on stage.

eddie sees a foot in a strikingly familiar blue adidas shoe press onto a pedal in front of him (weird)

the man rolls his shoulder around his a familiar way when sings about being in chicago at 24 (isn’t that about how old he and steve were when—)

a pice of paper is shoved into his hand; the artist’s name is Djo. (“Like Joe.” his assistants note says beside the name.) damn, does everything have to remind him of steve tonight? his middle name was Joseph. (coincidence)

Djo sings about the end to a beginning. Eddie knows how that feels.. (hang on…)

He sings about someone named Caroline encouraging him, and Eddie thinks of how much he teased Robin about her middle name being the same (hold the fuck on??)

it takes Eddie all three of Djo’s “You take the man out of the city, not the city out the man.”s for him to be sure.

That’s Steve up there on that stage.

And he’ll be damned if he misses this chance.