#sorry Tina that she beat you to it

[gildengirl]

"On the Tarmac, Agent Townsend whispered something to Abby, then squeezed her hand and kissed her softly when he didn't think we were watching. But we're Gallagher Girls. To tell you the truth, we're always watching."

- Ally Carter, United We Spy

[rayhalloffame]

A little self indulgent but working in a career where you also have to be very precise with your hands. Carmen is down a chef and you’ve cooked with him enough to kind of have an idea of how his kitchen flows and what his techniques are so you offer to stand in.

Regardless, you struggle to keep up with the flurry of movements and shouting during dinner service. Someone is saying “behind” or “corner” or “yes, chef”, pans are sizzling, oven doors are slamming. Knives are chopping. Specifically, your knife into a steak, cooked to perfection by Tina. And then a loud bang startles you, causing you to slice into your finger. It stuns you more than anything else, knife dropping from your hand and onto the work station. Before you have a chance to move your hand blood trickles from your finger onto the wagyu. You’re frozen in place.

Carmen is shouting for wagyu to table 7, yesterday. Your lack of response is what causes his head to pop up from his position at expo, finding your ashen face staring at your hand. “Chef,” he says, waits a beat, then prompts you again to no avail. He dusts his hands on the towel hanging from his apron while he approaches you. You’re dazed until his hands come up to cradle your face, tapping one hand gently on your cheek and calling your name. It brings your attention back to present. Your eyes flick between his concerned ones and the steak sitting dead in front of you. “You alright?”

Your lip wobbles immediately. “I – the steak, uh,” you’re trying with a shaky breath. It’s not even the pain in your finger or the embarrassment. You just put the whole team behind by bleeding on a dish. Carmen’s brow creases. He wraps a hand around your wrist to inspect the wound that has now begun to pool blood at the site. “I ruined the steak, chef. I’m sorry.” Your eyes get glassier by the second.

Carmen nods curtly. “T, take over,” he asks, making brief eye contact with the small chef. Tina agrees, concerned but doesn’t ask questions. Carm returns his attention to you, brings his voice down an octave. “C’mon,” he says, applies some force on your wrist to nudge you backwards. “Step out.” The panicked, apologetic look you give him makes him more insistent, wanting to get you away from the chaos and prying eyes. He’s appreciative for Sydney when she commands, “Chefs, listen to the sound of my voice.”

He guides you quickly with a hand to the small of your back and the other still holding your wrist afloat. A tear is sliding down your cheek by the time Carmen has your finger under running water. He glances at you from under his lashes. “Hurts?” You shake your head and wipe angrily at your cheek. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” he murmurs, softness so different from his harsh control of the kitchen moments before. It makes you feel worse.

“I got it,” you say gruffly around the frog in your throat, pulling your hand from his grip, “get back out there.” Carmen stands with his hands on his hips, watching you inspect your cleaned finger before wrapping a paper towel around it tightly. You turn off the faucet and brush past him to find bandages in the office and he follows.

Except when you do step into the office you stop moving. You drop your head and pull long shaky breaths into your lungs, hands clenching and unclenching. Carmen spins you by your shoulders and tugs you into him, triggering a sob to fall from your lips. He rubs a hand down the back your head comfortingly. “I don’t—,” he starts, “Bear, why’re you so upset?”

You start babbling, “I – I ruined the dish, Carm.” You get your works out between sniffles and hiccups, the collar of his chef’s whites wet with your efforts. “We were already behind an – and I was slow, and I bled on it and T – ina worked so hard on it.” You can feel Carmen’s nods against the side of your face.

“Its a kitchen, baby,” he says. “People get injured all the time. We refire and keep going.”

“I wanted to help and I let you down,” you sniffle. You calm yourself after a few moments. Realizing that you’re holding him up even more, you pull yourself from his embrace. “Go, go,” you shoo him, “I got this, I’m okay.”

Carmen inspects your finger when you unwrap it and decides it’s not dire, that you can care for it on your own if that’s what you want. He cradles your jaw, rubs his thumb across your cheek. You pull one side of your mouth up in a sad smile. “Could never let me down. I appreciate you stepping in for me and, uh, it’s nice. Y’know, seeing you in my space.” He nods, tilts his head to the side. “You’re okay.” Carmy reels you in to kiss the top of your head then lets you go. “Your station is still yours if – uh, if you want to come back.” You smile lightly at him in acknowledgement before he drops his hand and retreats. You do end up returning once you’re bandaged and composed, spurred on by the assuring expression Carmen gifts you each time his eyes linger on you.

[alisonsfics]

back in chicago - part 2

pairing: ex-boyfriend!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: 3.2k

part 1 / part 3 / part 4

After giving everybody at the Bear a chance to change out of their dirty clothes, you all headed out to the parking lot since Richie had suggested a night at the club.

“Alright, how you wanna carpool?” Marcus asked Richie, since they were the only two with cars.

“My backseat is full of shit, so I only got room for one.” Richie said, scanning the group for volunteers. In true matchmaker fashion, you pushed Maria towards Richie.

“Alright, cool. Maria’s with me, you got everybody else?” Richie asked Marcus as he slid his arm around Maria’s shoulders. You and Maria made eye contact, and she rolled her eyes at the giddy look on your face.

“Sounds good. Tina, shotgun?” Marcus asked, opening the passenger door for her. Tina was the mother of the group, which meant she got the best treatment and none of the teasing.

Tina thanked Marcus and got in the car. That left you, Carmy, Nat, and Sydney in the back seat. Nat and Sydney went to the left side to get in.

Carmy headed towards the back right door and got in, so you wouldn’t have to sit in the middle. Nat was on the far left, then Sydney, and then Carmy.

Carmy scooted as far over as he could, allowing you to get in. You squished next to him, but couldn’t close the door. “Here you go,” he said, moving his arm to rest on the seat behind you. You readjusted and scooted closer to him.

“You all good back there?” Marcus asked.

“Marcus, your car is too damn small to squeeze four people back here.” Sydney said, causing you all to laugh. You successfully got the door to close, but you were almost in Carmy’s lap.

You made eye contact with Nat, who was smirking at the both of you. The entire side of your body was pressed up against his. “This remind you of anything?” You whispered quietly to Carmy.

His cheeks turned bright red as you referenced your first date. Carmy had taken you to a concert in his small beat-up car. The date ended with you both hooking up in the tiny backseat and then getting kicked out by security.

Your phone lit up in your lap with a text from Maria. It read: “Sticking me in a car with Richie? You’re never gonna give up are you?”

“I wasn’t the only one who saw that between them? Richie was checking her out in the parking lot.” Carmy said, softly, almost making you jump.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop,” he mumbled after seeing your reaction. You shook your head. “You’re like five inches away, so I don’t think it counts as snooping.” You joked, making him chuckle.

“Yeah, I saw you nudge her in the parking lot. Good thinking,” he complimented. Giggling in the backseat with Carmy and trying to set up your friends felt so familiar and made you feel back at home.

“I swear, something’s there. They just haven’t admitted it yet. I mean, they’re both single. And you should’ve seen Maria’s face when she saw Richie for the first time tonight. It was like she was a teenager again, and she was blushing like crazy.” You told him, not realizing how closely Richie and Maria’s situation mirrored yours and Carmy’s.

As you both chatted, you and Carmy naturally gravitated closer to each other. One of your legs was now resting on top of his, and his arm was now casually wrapped around your shoulders.

Neither of you noticed Nat take a picture of you both and send it to Maria and Richie with the caption: “I think something’s happening👀”

You all pulled into the club parking lot and poured out of the squished car. You noticed the buckle on your shoe had come undone when you got out of the small car.

“Oh, shit,” you mumbled, picking your leg up and trying to fasten the buckle. Balancing on one leg while wearing heels was more difficult than you thought it would be.

You wobbled and almost fell. Carmy quickly reached out and grabbed your arms, steadying you. Watching out for you was an instinct for Carmy. “Thank you,” you bashfully thanked him as you held on to his arm for balance and fixed your shoe.

Richie and Maria got out of Richie’s car with giant smiles on their faces. “Looks like they had a good time reconnecting,” Carmy leaned in towards you and whispered.

“I always told you that they were perfect for each other,” you told him, smiling as you watched your friends. Carmy faked a shocked face. “Don’t pretend like I ever doubted you. I always knew you were right. You were right about most things.” He told you, chuckling to himself.

“I was always right,” you teased, pretending to be offended. Carmy held his hands up in surrender. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” He apologized, with a smirk on his face.

Maria nudged Richie, gesturing towards you and Carmy. They both shared a knowing glance after seeing the giddy smiles on your faces.

You all went into the club and ordered some drinks. You walked over to where Maria and Sydney were chatting. “How was your car ride with Richie?” You asked, smirking at her. Maria huffed and jokingly rolled her eyes.

“Wait…are you and Richie like…?” Sydney asked, not knowing how to finish the question. Maria quickly shook her head no. “Don’t listen to her. They had a little fling back when me and Carmy were together, went their separate ways, and now they’re both single again.” You corrected Maria.

“You know what? You get you some. Go for it. You guys would be cute.” Sydney said, jumping on the bandwagon.

“Oh, and you. We have to get you to come out with us more often. We can never get Carmy to come out drinking with us, but apparently if you’re here, he’s down for anything.” Sydney said, smirking at you. You felt your cheeks heat up as you thought about what she was implying.

The three of you girls kept talking for a while. You told Sydney about Germany. Sydney filled you both in on some of the restaurant drama. You all got along really well.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, but I’ll be right back.” You told them before heading towards the lobby. You knew that while you were gone, Maria would definitely let Sydney know about all the details about yours and Carmy’s relationship. You quickly went to the bathroom, thankful there was no line.

Meanwhile, Carmy had snuck out into lobby after getting a call from Claire. “Hey, baby. What’s up?” Carmy asked, cluelessly.

“I just got your text. You guys are at a club? I thought we were seeing a movie tonight. Your old girlfriend comes back to town, so now you have to go drinking?” Claire asked, infuriated.

“Oh, shit. I completely forgot about the movie. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.” He apologized quickly, but Claire wasn’t impressed. “That’s bullshit, Carm. Are you still fucking hung up on her?” She asked.

Carmy hesitated.

“No, it’s nothing like that.” He argued. He wasn’t necessarily lying. He truly was too in denial to believe that he still had feelings for you.

“Fuck you, Carm. Why can’t you just tell me the truth? You wouldn’t have hesitated if the answer was actually no.” Claire screamed at him.

When you came out the bathroom door, your ears were met with screaming. You recognized the voice as Carmy’s.

You froze when you saw him standing alone in the lobby on the phone. His face was bright red, and his hair was messy, like it always was when he got upset.

Your presence in the room caught his attention as his eyes quickly met yours. “Sorry,” you mouthed, trying to quickly sneak past him and back into the club. He quickly shook his head, trying to assure you that had nothing to be sorry for.

“Yeah, you know what? Fuck you too.” Carmy yelled into the phone before hanging up.

“Wait up,” Carmy called after you, grabbing your wrist to stop you.

“I’m sorry that you had to hear that. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He apologized, sweetly. You just nodded your head, all too aware of the fact that he was still holding onto your wrist.

“You okay? That sounded pretty intense.” You asked him. He shrugged like it was nothing. He didn’t want you to worry. “It’s fine. Just some life stuff. I could use a smoke though, if you wanna join.” He offered.

You nodded and accepted his offer. It felt like old times.

He let his hand rest on the small of your back as you both walked towards the front door. You stepped out into the cold Chicago air.

“It’s still crazy being back here.” You said, scanning the city skyline.

“It felt like a big part of Chicago was missing when you left.” Carmy told you as he lit his cigarette. You admired him as he stood under the streetlight.

“So, are you back for good?” Carmy asked, trying to not sound desperate like he was begging you to stay. You nodded. “This feels like where I’m supposed to be. Germany was good, but it was not meant to be forever.” You said, reflecting on your terrible last few weeks in Germany.

“Did something happen?” He asked you, concerned. You hesitated before answering. “I got fired and dumped by my ass of a boyfriend in the same day, so it could’ve been better.” You replied, keeping your eyes fixed on the ground.

Carmy didn’t know what to do. He wanted to comfort you, but he was still so unsure of how to act around you.

He settled for a middle ground and held his cigarette out to you. You giggled at the gesture, before taking it between your fingers.

After blowing a small cloud of smoke, you handed it back to him. He stuck the cigarette back between his lips and realized he could taste your strawberry chapstick on it.

He wanted to kick himself. It was like he was suddenly a teenager again and remembering kissing you under the bleachers.

“I’m sorry about the job and the guy. He sounds like an asshole.” he apologized, distracting himself from how much he wanted to kiss you, even though he definitely shouldn’t be thinking about that.

“You don’t know anything about him,” you said, giggling to yourself. Carmy paused, realizing you were right and shrugged. “Yeah, but I trust your judgement.” He said, looking over at you.

He dropped his cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. “You wanna head back inside?” He asked, earning a quick nod from you as you had started getting chilly.

As you walked back inside, you both saw Richie standing by a table with beer pong set up. “Yo, cousin, come play,” Richie caught your attention and called Carmy over.

You returned back to where everyone else was standing around a table. After a while, your conversation was interrupted when you heard someone call your name. You turned around and saw Carmy gesturing for you to come over.

“What’s up?” You asked, curiously. He grabbed your hand and slid the ping pong ball into it. “I have one shot. If it goes in, Richie loses. You’ve always been better at beer pong than me.” He said, letting his other hand rest on your back. The few drinks he’d had were definitely making him a little more affectionate.

“I still think this is against the rules, cousin.” Richie complained, remembering all the times you’d beaten both of them at beer pong.

You tossed the ball, and it sunk right into the cup. Your hands shot up in the air in victory. Carmy quickly picked you up and spun you around in a circle. You rested your arms on his shoulders, so you wouldn’t fall down.

“Carmy. I want to talk to you.” You both heard from behind Carmy.

Carmy quickly put you back down on your feet. You looked over his shoulder and saw Claire, who you vaguely remembered from high school. You walked over to Richie’s side of the table, sensing a tension that you didn’t want to be apart of.

“Is that Claire from school?” You whispered to Richie. He looked down at you and nodded. You watched as Carmy pulled Claire off to the side to talk to her.

“Shit, Richie. Are they together?” You asked, feeling a pit in your stomach.

Richie froze after hearing the words leave your mouth. “Oh, fuck. Yeah, I thought you knew.” Richie said, empathizing with how you were feeling. He rubbed his hand on your back, trying to comfort you.

You ran your fingers through your hair, feeling sick to your stomach. Then, all of a sudden, Claire was yelling again.

“What? I can’t hang out with you and your friends? Do you not want to be seen with me? Or is it because she’s here?” Claire asked, pointing at you.

“Richie, I can’t do this.” You said, pulling away from him and walking past the whole group, who was now staring at you. You bit down on your lip, trying to keep the tears from forming.

You snuck up to the second floor loft level of the club that overlooked the dance floor below. It was quieter upstairs, and you needed quiet.

You sat down on one of the couches as a few rogue tears rolled down your cheeks. You felt so stupid for thinking you could pick up where you left off with Carmy.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone walk up to you. You looked up and saw one of Carmy’s coworkers.

“Can I sit?” He politely asked you. You quickly nodded. “Yeah, of course. You’re Marcus, right?” You asked. He nodded and shook your hand.

“I don’t want to intrude, and I know all this history with Carmy is from before I even knew him, but I wanted to see if you wanted to talk about anything.” He offered, giving you a soft smile.

“Thank you. That’s a really sweet offer, but I don’t even think I’d know where to start.” You said, laughing at how pathetic you must have seemed.

Marcus stayed by your side. He didn’t say a word, but he waited until you wanted to talk.

“I think I just feel lost. I got the job offer in Germany, and I almost didn’t take it because I didn’t want to leave Carmy. But he told me I couldn’t turn it down, so I lived in Germany for five years. I had a great job. I met a guy. Then, I lost it all in a day, and so I thought maybe I was never supposed to leave Chicago.” You started explaining.

“I came back to Chicago, and it felt right. Like this was where I was supposed to be all along. Then, completely by Maria’s planning, I ran into Carmy again. It felt natural. It didn’t feel like he hadn’t seen each other in five years. Then, I find out he’s with Claire, and now she’s pissed at me when I had no idea in the first place. I just feel so stuck, like everywhere I go, I’m fucking cursed or something.” You said, wiping away a few tears.

“Well, I promise, you’re not cursed. It’ll all be alright. I think you coming back just threw Carmy for a spin. He wasn’t expecting it at all. But you shouldn’t feel guilty because none of that is your fault. That’s between Claire and Carmy to figure out.” Marcus comforted you.

“Thank you. That makes me feel a lot better. All I have to do now is get over my ex-boyfriend for the second time. But I’ve done it before, so I can do it again, right?” You joked, trying to make the best of the situation.

“There you go,” Marcus said, chuckling, “I’ll leave you alone now. You know where to find me.”

You sat up there for a few minutes in silence. You stood up and looked over the railing at your friends below you.

You didn’t see Carmy anywhere and assumed he was somewhere with Claire.

That was until you saw him walk up beside you. He gave you a soft smile, not knowing what to say yet.

“I’m sorry about all of that. You didn’t deserve to get dragged into that.” He told you, sincerely. You smiled back at him. “It’s alright. I understand.” You told him.

There was silence between the two of you for a few minutes. Neither of you knew what to say to fill the silence. You both were also worried that you’d somehow make it worse by saying the wrong thing.

Even if it was just in a friendly capacity, you were glad to have Carmy back in your life.

Down below you both, you saw Richie run towards the dance floor and start dancing as Love Story by Taylor Swift played.

A small giggle escaped from your lips watching the pure joy on his face. “I have fucking missed Chicago.” You said. It felt like a scene out of a movie, reunited with your best friends in your favorite city.

“Chicago has missed you,” you heard Carmy mumble beside you.

In a split second, he was grabbing your waist and kissing you. You instinctually kissed him back, while your arms snaked around his neck. You twirled his hair around your fingers as he kissed you.

You felt like you were on another planet. You couldn’t hear the club music anymore and could only hear your heart racing in your ears.

Carmy tightened his grip around your waist, so you both were pressed up against each other. There wasn’t an inch of space between you, and you didn’t want there to be.

One of Carmy’s hands crept lower down your back, cupping your ass. You gasped against the kiss, shocked by his hand placement. You could feel him smirk. Nothing made Carmy cockier than watching the effect he had on you.

Moving his arms back to your waist, Carmy started to nudge you backwards towards the wall. Your back leaned against the cold concrete wall.

It brought you back to reality, and you realized what you were doing.

You quickly put your hands on Carmy’s chest and pushed him away. “We can’t…Claire,” you reminded him.

“Oh, shit,” Carmy mumbled, running his hand through his hair. You tried to catch your breath. You could feel your heart rate rising as the panic set in.

“I’m so sorry…I shouldn’t have,” you rambled, trying to quickly walk past Carmy. He quickly grabbed your wrist to stop you. “It’s not your fault. I kissed you, and I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He apologized.

“We can’t tell anybody.” You told him, frantically. He quickly nodded, experiencing a similar panic to your own.

You raced back downstairs. Once you got out the front doors, you started sprinting towards your apartment. You needed to get away from there as fast as possible.

You finally arrived at your apartment. You checked your phone and saw a text from Maria that she’d be spending the night at Richie’s. You wanted to be happy for your friend, but your own love life was spiraling

You laid down on the couch and burst into tears. It felt like you laid there for hours, until you heard a knock at your door.

You opened it to find Carmy standing in front of your door.

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[thecapricunt1616]

Apple - c.b. one shot

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): “Why?” he whispered, leaning in, more of his weight on your throat. The monogram was digging in, likely to leave a bruise. He tuts at your little squeak. “Don’t try to play stupid.” He leans in, his breath fanning your lips. “I was thinkin’ how nice it is that y’mine. Mm? How I can come take this pussy whenever I want” he trailed his hand that was thumbing over your tattoo down, down, down

*pretend this is a pretty cut ooo so pretty and dainty*

The fucking apple granite. The stupid, absolutely unnecessary apple granite. He had replayed making the dish in his head the rest of his shift, he looked right at it. He looked right. at it. Where the fuck was his head?

You.

His mind, it was on you. It was on that god damned tattoo you had shown him last week. In tiny letters - so delicate and pretty, dainty even - was his last name. Berzatto. The first time he saw it knelt before where you were sitting on the bed as if he were worshipping a goddess and hugged your middle, kissing your ribs just over the second skin bandage your artist placed for you.

When Richie came to the kitchen with a plate, there were a few confused whispers, when he walked to Carmen’s station, cleared his throat and went “uh- Chef?” Syd paid attention, because he was returning with a plate - and not joking about it.

“Yo” Carm replied not looking up from the oysters he was splitting for the next plate. Focused. Something he always was - used to be. Used to be - used to be. That’s what fucks with him, still. Each day, it got worse. The feeling, the pull. Whenever he shut the door to your shared apartment behind him, he was counting the seconds until he could return. It never used to be like this. This angered him to say the least.

“Table 13” Richie set the plate down in front of him, half eaten and Carmen quickly looks over, having realized the meticulous plating he quickly understood the work to be his.

“And?” He asked without missing a beat, his tone was growing more agitated, now. What, what could this fucking patron have a problem with? That was what he thought at first, until Richie said

“They um- the wife - she realized halfway that she didn’t get the apple granite. She asked if you can..add it.” His voice got small by the end. Richie knew he was sealing the god damned warrant for everyone’s day to go in the shitter the second he had come into that kitchen with a plate for Carmen, and a complaint.

“Add it?” Carmy snaps, before he angrily took the plate, chucking it in the garbage can so hard the glass shattered. “Comp the fucking table” he grabs another plate and both quickly and masterfully put together the appetizer they’d ordered once again, making sure it was pristine.

“Fucking apple granite” he mumbled angrily to himself. “Tina where the fuck is my saffron how long does it take, chef?!” He barked, handing the plate to Richie and he hightailed it out of the kitchen fast as he could.

“Sorry Jeff! You put it on the top shelf I had to have Marcus help me get it” she drops off the bowl of the prepared spice at his station and quickly heads back to hers. The rest of the day went like this, and Syd exhausted herself trying to keep 3 steps ahead of him to keep the peace in the kitchen as best as she could.

She wasn’t always successful though, of course. Carmen flew off the handle a total of 3 times that shift, and his throat was actually a little raw from shouting. His voice sounded a bit deeper and horse due to this as well. He had scrubbed the skin off his hands just about brushing the grout until it damn near sparkled, and wasn’t walking in the door until around 12:05.

You were in bed, laid up watching some murder mystery show per usual in one of Carmy’s older ratty white shirts with sauce stains and random holes from god knows what. Your legs were bare, shining from having been slathered in Carmen’s favorite scented lotion after you’d had a shower. He nudged the door open with his knuckle, and you just stared at eachother for a moment.

The vibe radiating off him wasn’t the most pleasant. You’d known he’d had a bad day from the look on his face and the way he was holding himself. “You” he said. His voice was raw and scratchy, curls greasy from tugging on them all day.

“M-me?” You sit up a bit as he comes in the room, the fabric of his jeans swishing as he moved, the only other sound the soft volume on the tv and the hum of your bedroom fan. He dropped his backpack at the end of the bed, nudging off his sneakers and tossing them in the closet with a loud thud against the wall before flicking the door shut without a care of how brutely he was acting.

“What’s our word?” He asked and you swallowed thickly.

Oh…oh- he had one of those days

“Cocoa” you told him and sat on your knees politely, sitting back on your feet on the mattress as he approaches you and cups your cheek.

“M’not gonna go easy t’night, m’not gonna be gentle ‘er nice. You alright w’that?” He held your jaw, making you look at him, your cheeks slightly smushed.

“Yes” you said softly, looking up at him expectantly. He grabbed his ring you’d bought him from the nightstand, putting it on his middle finger while he watched you.

“Wanna know what happened at work today?” He muttered, flipping the ring to the inside of his hand so the initials were facing his palm and your eyes widened a bit. “Mmhmm” he nods and your cheeks heat at the realization of what was to come.

“W-what what did I do?” You squeak. In response you felt the cold white gold on your neck, pushing you back to lay down on the mattress and light pressure, just enough for that cool light feeling to start building in your head.

“This” he rucks the shirt up with his hand, calloused fingers brushing over your ribs to thumb over the now healed tiny tattoo under your left breast. “I can’t fuckin’ focus” he rubs his thumb back and forth over it, tightening his hand lightly.

“Why?” You asked lightly, since you could only get so much air. His piercing lust filled eyes met your glossed out ones, hazy, blissed out.

“Why?” he whispered, leaning in, more of his weight on your throat. The monogram was digging in, likely to leave a bruise. He tuts at your little squeak. “Don’t try to play stupid.” He leans in, his breath fanning your lips. “I was thinkin’ how nice it is that y’mine. Mm? How I can come take this pussy whenever I want” he trailed his hand that was thumbing over your tattoo down, down, down, until its cupping your heat through your daisy patterned panties.

You couldn’t think, all you could do was watch the Saint Anthony pendant dangling in front of your face “huh? Who owns this?” He spanks your pussy lightly, breaking you out of your daze with a small gasp. “I said who owns you?” He growled in the shell of your ear. You felt yourself dripping, your panties were becoming uncomfortable.

“You-“ you gasp as he spanked you again, harder.

“Who?” He challenged, rubbing away the sting with his cupped hand. “Try again.” He said in that soft, nearly patronizing way.

“Daddy” you whine, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Daddy owns me” you widen your legs for him more, inviting him to take more of you.

“That’s a good kitten” he released your throat, kissing over the ‘CB’ that had been branded into your skin before grabbing your hips, and flipping you so you were stomach down like a rag doll. You gasp a bit, hearing the shhhlick of his belt after he unbuckled it and tossed it to the floor. “Do you care about these?” He snapped the waistband of your panties against your skin causing you to squeak in surprise

“N-no but-“

Your interrupted by the sharp sound of ripping fabric and suddenly your entire backside was exposed, “good” he said as he lined his tip up with your entrance. He holds you open with his fingers, spitting right over your hole that was clenching and unclenching in anticipation before thrusting in. You whine into the pillow, gripping the sheets with a white knuckle at the burning sensation as he splits you open. He growls hotly, pushing in deeper and you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

Tears spring to your eyes, wetting the pillow below as he used you. He spanks you, hard enough that the monogram of his ring would leave bruises on your ass to admire later before roughly grabbing your hips and pulling you back and forth off his cock. “So fuckin tight. All f’me” he moaned, head falling back in bliss. He spanked you again, and again, your ass stinging and burning as he fucked up into your g-spot.

You were essentially sobbing with pleasure at this point, face buried into the pillow, muttering ‘please daddy please’ - babbling really. You weren’t sure what you were begging for at this point, mercy maybe? But Carmen wasn’t offering that until you’d been broken tonight. “Yeah? Beggin me t’use you? Mm? You like being my little cockwhore yeah?” He laid over you, tucking his hand underneath your frame and finding your clit, rubbing back and forth over the twitching nub.

He growls hotly in your ear “hear that? Mmm?” He thrusts harder. Your jaw was slack, face smushed into the pillow as the cold metal of his ring assaulted your clit. You whine in response, listening to the wet smacking sounds of skin against skin. “Fuckin suckin me in. Y’looove when I fuck you like this huh? Tell me how much you love it when daddy uses this pretty pussy” he spanks you “go’head. Tell daddy” he purrs in your ear.

“S-s’much!” You cry out, tears wetting your cheeks and your combined sweat causing your bodies to move together with no friction. “So much daddy- I love it- I’m yours. I belong to you” you clench around him, unable to stop it as your orgasm washes over you, making it hard for him to thrust it was so intense.

“Jeeesus” he spanked you over your raw pink flesh and you yelp “pussy is fuckin swallowing my cock huh? Beggin t’be fucked like this.” Your taken by surprise when he sits up, taking your hair in his fist and pulling fucking you faster. The entire bed shakes, the headboard slamming against the wall in a quick steady rhythm.

You couldn’t even think of anything. Your entire mind felt fuzzy and your body was overcome with pleasure. You weren’t even aware of the noises you were making, you could only focus on Carmy and what was making him feel good. Your back arched slightly and he pulls you up harder, you were now flush to his chest and he takes your neck into his hand once again, squeezing lightly and you smiled at the heightened pleasure it brought, looking back at Carm lovingly.

“Aww look at you huh?” He rubs your clit quicker and your hips jerk a bit “so pretty. Sooo pretty when I fuck y’stupid like this huh? Look at this droolin on my hand like a little animal” he thumbs the spit from the corner of your mouth.

“I-“ you rest your head back, trying to catch your breath. He released his hand lightly “I love you” you said softly and he kissed your forehead gently, tenderly - before holding your arm behind your back, and pushing you into the mattress, thrusts becoming sloppier.

“I know baby- I know. Y’take me so well huh? You were made for this cock” he moaned, his hand coming down on your ass and you flinch a bit so he rubbed the sting away with his palm, spreading you out with his hands so he could watch as he pounded you. Just jaw falls lacks as he sees the strings of your arousal coating his cock, pulling back and snapping with each thrust. The sounds he was making were lewd and whiny and raw

“So fuckin lucky- god I’m so fuckin lucky” he breathes, tugging your hips flush to his, filling you up with a low grunt, his chest rising and falling with each pant. He carefully pulled out of you, carefully rubbing up your sides with gentle hands. “Y’good baby?” He asked softly and squeezed your hips.

You let out a soft mmhmm before nuzzling into the pillow and closing your eyes, stray tears falling down your cheeks. “My sweet babygirl” he said softly and laid next to you, pulling you to his chest and stroking your hair. “You did so good mm? Such a good girl f’me” he kissed your lips tenderly.

You looked up at him, still fully blissed out and mind swarming with nothing but him. “We gotta get you some water huh? That was a lot f’you angel” he reached on your bedside table, grabbing your big pink owala bottle and clicking it open, holding it to your lips. “Drink f’me- at least 3 sips huh?” He coaxed, gently kissing your forehead and brushing your hair from your eyes.

You blinked a few times, finally digesting what he was saying and realizing everything was over. Your ass was sore, your pussy was sore, and your mouth was stuck together like glue. “Mm” your lip pouts out subconsciously. “I hurt” you said softly.

“Yeah honey? S’okay, let daddy take care f’you mm?” He pressed the bottle to your lips “drink-“ he ordered gently. You obliged leaning in slightly and sucking up the icy beverage. As soon as it hits your dry throat you moan softly at the relief, eyes fluttering shut as you gulp down the water. “Thas’a good girl” he coo’d, carefully brushing over your brow with his thumb. “Yknow I brought your favorite chocolate cake huh? There were a few pieces left - took ‘em all f’you” he mused with a slight smile.

You pulled away from the water, a bit dribbling down your chin from how desperately you were gulping down water, unsure how badly you needed it before he pressed it to your lips. “W’the-“

“Chocolate ganache? Mm- even put strawberries on the top f’each slice sweet girl, made y’a batch of chocolate covered strawberries too a dozen of em. Couldn’t let y’favorite chocolate go to waste, mm angel?” He rubbed over your bum gently, taking his hand away when you flinched. “Oo-“ he hissed through his teeth in surprise. “And some ice f’this poor bum eh?” He carefully sat up and padded to the kitchen.

He came back with a damp dish towel and gallon ziplock full of ice, as well as a spoon and plate of cake and a few chocolate covered strawberries. He set the supplies on the nightstand, opening the draw and you watched him as he pulled out your ‘after play numbing spray’ as the bottle called it, and aloe baby wipes. He took out 4 wipes, gently spreading your thighs. “Tell me if it hurts mm?” He said softly.

You watch as he carefully flips you over and cleans you up gently, assuring there was no cum left dripping out of you uncomfortably before picking you up carefully and taking you to the bathroom, setting you on the toilet and leaning against the wall as you went, crossing his arms and looking at the ceiling to give you some privacy. “Was I too rough?” He asked quietly as you tugged toilet paper off the wall and wiped gently to avert the soreness.

“No” you replied simply and stood, flushing and going to wash your hands. He wrapped his arms around your waist, carefully lifting your breast to observe his last name inked into your skin in the mirror.

“Y’sure?” He ran his middle finger over it, your nipple becoming hard at the action.

“M’sure. Can you feed me cake now?” You asked, shutting the sink off and drying your hands before padding back to bed, laying on your stomach. He laid the cool towel, before the bag of ice over your bum that felt like it was on fire and you groaned softly.

“Mm- thank you” you rested your cheek on your forearm as he sat, holding a chocolate strawberry to your lips. “So what really got you all worked up?” You asked, opening your mouth and taking a bite of the sweet and sour berry.

“Some dipshit lady realized I f’got the stupid apple granite.”

Fin

[midnight-fables]

Entry 11: Fistful of Tacks

Bearblr Promptober Day 11: Corn Maze

Summary: Carmen's girlfriend (who he refers to as Darling) joins the kitchen crew on a trip to a corn maze and pumpkin patch that Nat organized, and Carmen is struggle bussing. (Feat. Sydney, Marcus, mentions of Tina, Richie, Eva, Nat, Pete, Nat's daughter)

Warnings: Anxiety, self-worth issues, mentions of disordered eating, mentions of nausea, mentions of panic attacks, swearing, fem reader who is a trauma surgeon (nothing gross described), she/her pronouns, mentions of The Devil (Chef David)

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list.

11 Oct 2024

Why the fuck do people like corn mazes?

No, thank you, I don’t feel like getting lost in fucking corn with a bunch of random people for hours; I could be doing so much more with my time. It’s corn. It invades everything in the Midwest already, for what purpose would you want to intentionally seek out more of that invasion? Getting some freshly-harvested corn for grilled corn, corn chowder, creamy corn sauce with gnocchi, I’m pretty sure Marcus could make a killer sweet cornbread crumble-type thing—sure, I’ll haul my ass to the nearest fucking cornfield—

“Is that a no on the corn maze then…?”

“It’s a fuck no on the corn maze, Syd.”

—But no, I’m not doing a damned corn maze.

Syd recoiled. “Oh. Alright, okay, Jesus. Sorry for bothering you.”

Darling hugged my arm tighter and pouted. “Aw, but I did them with my grandma all the time when I was little. They were so fun.”

I covered my eyes and dug my thumb and fingers into my temples to stave off the dull ache forming in my frontal lobe. “I don’t feel like getting lost in corn.”

Syd. “You just follow the left wall, though.”

Marcus joined us at our table. “You do what now?”

“That’s how you solve mazes, you follow the left wall.”

“Huh.” His voice drew closer to my ear. “You okay, Chef?”

I nodded. Still had my palm over my face. It wasn’t the loudest it could’ve been—again, we beat a lot of families with kids, who tended to show up after 2 pm, according to the people who ran the pumpkin patch and corn maze, and Chicago decided that particular Sunday would be the respite day of hell-with-some-respite season, so it wasn’t murderously hot or humid out. Richie and Tiff were off co-parenting Eva in the pumpkin patch, so that meant I didn’t have to listen to his bullshit—though, admittedly, he was much less bullshit since his stint at Ever, even if we hit that snag after Friends and Family where I thought about launching knives at him every time he happened to be within striking distance.

Boy, am I glad I’m too much of a coward to actually act like the animal I sound like sometimes.

Nat organized something of a family and friends’ get-together to celebrate half a year of being open as a restaurant—and maybe to force us all to take a bit of a break now that we weren’t looking at a bad week potentially shuttering us. I brought it up to Darling not expecting her to jump at the prospect of meeting the whole group—should’ve known, she’s a social butterfly, and, if I was being honest, it was the primary reason I asked. So, she could help buffer in a social setting. These were people I worked with, would take a bullet for, but outside the restaurant, I had barely any social footing. And I wanted to. Have social footing, that is. Darling liked being around people, and while she never complained about me wanting our time together to be our time together, something nagged at me to at least be able to tolerate socializing.

We met up and poked around the market they had nearby for some small decorations we could put in the restaurant that fit the season. Little things that locals made by hand—a macrame wall-hanging, little ceramic pumpkins with paper florals arranged in them, some planters. The planters were Syd’s idea. Bring a bit of greenery to the four-tops. Tina was fawning over Sug and Pete’s baby while they took pictures of her first fall. Or. Something. I don’t know, I had too much on my mind and my head was killing me before we even made it to the pumpkin patch and corn maze. Darling suggested we stop for a bite to eat, sit at the covered tables to get out of the sun for a bit.

She’s smart like that.

We weren’t doing the best with our margins. I forwent being paid to make sure Syd made enough to keep her apartment, and even she was making sacrifices in her pay to make sure front-of-house didn’t get shafted. About 2 weeks ago, my apartment's stove goes, then two of the radiators do, and the landlord—an aside here: fuck landlords. I hope hell exists so landlords can burn in them with me.—anyway, the landlord is being a shit about it, so I’ve been crashing at Darling’s place. But then her range and oven also go to the shitter, like, 3 days later?

Like I said: fuck landlords.

Which means I’m on week two of having to rely on overnight oats and fucking granola bars, family, and takeout or unviable food from service that’s still at least calories, and because we’re getting this shit dialed, that usually means scraps. If any. And you’d think a motherfucker like me who got his shit kicked in when working in New York would be able to tolerate eating literally anything, but that’s the thing—I already did this shit, and it’s already fucked me up. I can’t even get it down anymore without my arms and legs exploding in goosebumps. Without seeing, hearing, feeling, smelling Empire and The Devil all over again. Half the time, I just go hungry and ignore the pangs in my stomach until I get caught up enough in work that I forget about eating, and then whoops, 14 hours have gone by and I haven’t eaten a thing and bile surges at the base of my throat and my eyes water, I can’t breathe. And I get to Darling’s place with what used to be a local favorite, and four bites in, I’m so sure I’m going to throw up because it just tastes like stomach acid and my guts are twisting into knots from anxiety anyway.

Something slid across the table in front of me, and two breaths later, the scent of grilled meat, pepper, vinegar, onions, and mustard filled my nose. My jaw stung as my mouth watered. Darling untangled an arm from around mine and rubbed across my shoulder blades.

“How about we try to eat something, hm?” she cooed.

I picked the pickles off the Chicago dog before inhaling a third of it in one bite. Goosebumps exploded under my jacket.

“Wow, how’d you do that?” Syd asked.

“How’d I do what?”

“Get him to do, uh, anything?”

“Fuck off, Syd,” I said through a mouthful of food.

She snorted into her apple cider.

“Sweetheart,” Darling warned, punctuating it by raking her fingers through my hair to get it off my forehead.

“She did not just call you ‘sweetheart.’” Syd again. I could hear her smiling.

My face flooded with warmth.

God fucking dammit.

Thankfully, Marcus spoke up. “Come on, let ‘em have it or we’re gonna torment you when you find yourself someone nice.”

“Like hell you are!”

“Oh, I’ll remember! Karma, baby!”

Syd let out a huff of a laugh. I wish I would’ve seen her face to get a better sense of how she felt about the idea of letting someone into her life. It’s strange, really, how similar yet different we were, like two clippings taken from the same tree, planted in different pots, placed in different homes. There’s this deep, unidentifiable thread of connection that I feel with her—and she feels with me, I’m sure of it because how else could she call my bullshit for what it was while still preserving the feeling of safety that eluded me everywhere else but a locked room or, sparingly, though getting more frequent, in Darling’s arms? Sort of like a family member you haven’t seen in an eternity but you know would have your back in an instant if you got into trouble. If I’d found out we were twins separated at birth, I wouldn’t question it for a second. And I doubt I’d want to protect her any differently.

She’s got that fire in her eyes that I used to see in my own when I stared into my reflection back in Copenhagen. Feels like an entire lifetime ago (Darling told me that trauma can make time feel like it’s not real, and I’m only finding more and more reason to never doubt the woman) but, back then, I did want something out of cooking that went beyond flipping Mikey the bird. It wasn’t that I wanted the best chef title or even a bullshit star, I wanted to prove something to myself. I wanted to throw a fistful of tacks back at that persistent, shitty voice in my head that kept telling me that I’d never do much, never make a thing of myself. I never did well in school, I didn’t get into college, I didn’t have any friends, I wasn't funny, I couldn’t help my mom, I couldn’t stop Sugar from going mad, I couldn’t keep up with Mikey, I couldn’t ask Claire out, I never made it past districts in wrestling—I was good for fuck all, and that stupid fucking phonograph reminding me of all the shit I couldn’t or didn’t do wouldn’t shut. The fuck. Up.

Syd’s got that fire in her eyes. Syd’s got that passion that I wanted, that I found for a brief stint before The Devil sunk his claws into me. And yeah, I could do fuck all to protect Mikey from his own demons or Sugar from mom’s, but I will glass this planet before I let it stamp out her flames. And doing it like I did? By cutting out people and burying myself neck-deep in the craft of food? Would I stand by and let her do that to herself, too?

Darling erupting into a giggle fit brought me back to the pumpkin patch.

“It looks like it’s got a big ol’ pot belly—look at it!” Syd pointed at a pumpkin with a large lump in it and did an exaggerated walk with her arms up and her cheeks puffed out. Eva giggled at her antics. Darling and I were a bit away from the others as they discussed... something about the pumpkins, I couldn’t even begin to figure out what. I glanced around, tried to get a sense of where and when I was.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Darling murmured, circling around in front of me and taking my face in her hands. “There you are. Where’d you go?”

Her hands were cool, familiar, grounding. I didn’t feel like I was boiling in my skin, which had to be a good sign, right?

“How-how long, uh...?”

She shrugged as Cousin, Eva, Tiff, Syd, and Marcus laughed again. “15 minutes, maybe.”

“Why-why didn’t you snap me out of it?”

“Well, you did eat your food. I figured it probably was a good idea not to interrupt that. And you weren’t warm. Or shaky. Or upset.” She finger-combed my hair back again. “I figured it wouldn’t be the worst thing to let you process for a bit... We gotta do something about your hair, baby.”

“Yeah, I need to get it cut.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think you need to—unless it’s bothering you. But you should put something in it.” Some strands got caught on her fingers, and I flinched at the sting. “Ope, sorry. It’s starting to get crispy on the ends.”

I eyeballed the sign pointing to the entrance of the corn maze while she picked through more knots in my hair.

She kissed my cheek. “What’cha thinking, handsome?”

“How long do you think the corn maze would take us?”

“Um. Hm.” She wrapped her arms around my waist and tucked her head under my chin. I forgot about the friends and family present and hugged her back. Kissed the top of her head. “Maybe an hour. Why?”

“I’d like to try it.” It came out like a question.

My phone dinged.

She pulled back and beamed at me. “Yeah? You sure?”

Her excitement wrenched a smile from me, too. How could I not? She was adorable.

“Yeah. Just need some quiet time.”

She took off for the maze, and I followed. Glanced at my phone to make sure it wasn’t something important.

2 messages from Sugar.

A photo of the two of us hugging, followed by a message saying, “You two are so cute. I'm proud of you, Bear.”

I stopped, glanced back at her. She was holding her daughter, giant smile on her face, in the middle of pocketing her phone. She tipped her head in the direction of the maze and mouthed “Go.”

I saved the photo to my favorites album and headed to the corn maze.

[chefkids]

Have you considered making a list of all the predictions/possibilities and then checking off which are right?

Some of these are serious and some of these are not so serious

Tina goes full Mom on Sydney

We see flashback of Tina being a mom and starting off at The Beef

Mikey trying to set shit on fire

Richie flashback to Tiff leaving him because he's spending so much time trying to take care of Mikey

Richie accepts that it's over with Tiff

The staff hates Carmy, loves Syd

Richie plans on quitting but is convinced not to

Sydney gets sick/burnout and is forced to take time off

Carmy is put on time out for being insane

Nat, Tina and Richie threaten Carmy about how he's acting and how Sydney will leave him

Carmy meets Emmanuel

Syd meets Donna

Carmy helps Syd move to her apartment

Sydney throws up on Carmy

Sydney avoids signing the partnership agreement

Syd gets him to write up a new partnership agreement in her terms at the end of the season

Sydney calls out the I'm sorry sign for being useless

Carmy draws something specifically for Sydney, not just using the menu planning as an excuse

Carmy makes an overtly romantic move on Sydney

Nat, Tina, and Richie makes comments about the nature of Syd and Carmy’s relationship

Nat asks Carmy why he’s actually doing all of this when he had said “Fuck stars” and why he’s doing all of this for Syd and he finally opens up about his feelings to her

Carmy cooks for Sydney

Syd and Carmy table scene part 2 things go bad and she turns Carmy down

Big sydcarmy fight happens about her leaving and he basically says "I can't do this without you" and she says "Well I can, I did do it without you"

Sydney is offered a job somewhere else, tells Carmy she’s going to take it, but doesn’t in the end

Carmy tries to shut down The Bear cause he doesn't want to do it without Syd

Sydney has a feelings realization moment like Carmy did with the panic attack

Carmy tells Syd "I love you" while apologizing

Sydcarmy kiss goddammit!!! It's time!!!

They receive bad reviews that send Syd and Carmy in a spiral

Marcus receives some sort of high praise or award

Carmy gets credited for Syd's dish, rivalry/jealousy conflicts for how he's getting recognition and she's not

Power outage at the restaurant again

Carmy/Syd starts a fire at The Bear, probably Carmy sleep cooking

Carmy hallucinations/sleepwalking nightmares while cooking

Carmy ingests hallucinogenic mushrooms, accidentally

Sydney stabs Carmy

Someone yells at Sydney and then something awful happens to them #sydkarma

Carmy has a dream about Syd

Carmy's old Chef actually comes to The Bear

The Bear Cookbook offer

Natalie is mad at Donna because she thinks she didn't show up to F&F night

Ebra's sandwich window is popping off

OG neighborhood locals hate on the restaurant and try to sabotage it

Marcus makes a new donut

Marcus handles grief pretty well actually, meanwhile Syd and Carmy respiral with their own mommy issues/death grief

Carmy becomes paranoid about every guy after he finds out Marcus ask Sydney out

Luca offers Marcus a job

Carmy avoids going into the walk in for a while

Richie/Fak try to secretly set Carmy and Claire up in a “chance encounter” so he’ll see her again

Claire tries to get back with Carmy because Fak tells her that he loves her

Carmy turns down Claire and tells her he was not in love with her

The extended Faks try to beat up Carmy

Claire connects the dots between Syd and Carmy

Fak realizes Carmy likes Syd and is completely shook

Pete tells them they have a very very small chance of meeting Jimmy's payment deadline

Donna apologizes to Nat and Carmy

Donna gives them the money to save The Bear. Sells her house?

Chris Storer is forced to respond to his crimes

[yellowharrington]

jaded -- chapter 2, carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen “carmy” berzatto x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), the bear fx

warnings: smoking (both carmy and reader), mention of sexual content, a bit of angst. minors dni with this story please.

word count: 2k

a/n: chapter 2 is here! ty for reading and interacting w this story i very much appreciate it <3 this chapter is a bit angsty and a bit fluffy, pls enjoy!

summary: after you and carmy hook up, things change.

masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 3

Carmy isn’t good at hookups. Especially after spectacularly fucking it up with Claire, a girl he knew deep down was probably his soulmate, he was feeling pretty fucking gross about the whole thing. He doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve any of it, and pumping his loneliness into his pastry chef probably isn’t a great idea either. It felt so good in the moment, his hands wrapped around her throat and in her hair, pouring it all out into the messy thrusts. He just thought about how he wasn’t good enough for this, and was just a broken, broken person. 

You knew it wasn’t supposed to mean anything, and you’d heard whispers about Claire in the kitchen between Carmen and Ritchie, and obviously there was a history there. You had tried to pry the story out of Sydney, but she was all tight-lipped about the whole thing, not wanting to “gossip” at work. In reality, you knew she knew Claire and had heard more about what had happened on opening night, and probably just didn’t want to repeat the story to anyone. You could respect it, but at the same time, you needed to know how deep this shit went before you started being your boss’s rebound.

The kitchen that afternoon when you come in for your shift is awkward, to say the least. You ignore him, he ignores you, but it’s tense. When he sees you, all he sees is your lips hung open, moans escaping against his skin, his loose gold chain between your teeth as he plunges into you, over and over and over and…

“Behind, Jeff! Fuck, what is up with you today? Your mind is somewhere else,” Tina breaks him out of his daydream, watching as you ice the dessert in front of you, focusing on the even layers of chocolate buttercream. And you’re not laughing, no, because you don’t know if he’s daydreaming about you or still has his mind on Claire, and even though you may have a big ego, it’s not big enough to think he’s distracted by you at work. It was one fuck, one night, one mistake between two coworkers that you’d never speak of again.

“Outside, now, chef,” he’s suddenly at your station, looming over you just as you were getting lost in the frosting. “I’m fucking busy, Carm-“ you started, before his hand came down on the stainless steel beside you, gripping the edge of the counter. “Now, chef. Please.” You place the offset spatula on the clean plate beside your cake, glaring at him as you walked out back. He immediately pulled out a cigarette to put between his lips, letting the chilled air hit the bare skin of his arms. “What the fuck do we do?” he asks, more into the air than directly to you. You tighten your apron around your waist, crossing your arms over your chest. “Probably fuckin’ prep for service and serve rich assholes some marinated radishes. What the fuck else would we be doing?”

“Don’t be stupid,” he says, and it’s sharper than he intends. “No, I mean,-“ “Look, you’re the one who left in the middle of the night, alright? You’re the one who snuck out and went home before I could say anything or we could come up with a game plan. I don’t care that we fucked, we can forget it, I won’t talk about it again. Swear on my fuckin’ life,” you grab the cigarette from between his fingers and put it between your own lips. “But don’t act like I’m crazy, or like it’s my fucking fault, alright?” There’s a beat as you take a puff of his cigarette, smashing it beneath the toe of your shoe into the concrete. “Sorry for leaving,” he says, finally, “Didn’ know what else to do.” You shrugged. “Whatever, Carm, it doesn’t have to mean anything, if you don’t want it to. I’ll live and let live if you will. Just be fuckin’ cool, don’t tell anyone. I don’t want people to know that I fucked my boss, or whatever.” He smirks, “Heard, chef.” 

And it all seems alright for a bit. The kitchen is back to normal, you’re back on pace, and you and Carmy are fine. 

- 

The weeks pass and the world falls back into its natural orbit. There’s a hookup here and there, a few nights where he comes home with you after service, all under the guise of a drive home. You feel obligated to invite him up for something to eat (because God knows he hasn’t all fucking day), and before you can get in the door he’s already hot on your heels and breathing down the back of your neck. And there you are, breath hitched in your throat, struggling to get the door open, feeling his hand come around your front and slide into the waistband of your jeans.

Sometimes he stays, sometimes he doesn’t. It’s a toss up if you have to be in for service the next morning, and you usually hear him grabbing his coat from where it’s laid on the kitchen table, the jingle of his car keys in the right-hand side pocket being just loud enough to wake you from your deep slumber. Sometimes you’re coherent enough to ask him to stay, but he’s got one foot out the door and he can easily pretend not to hear you. And it’s fine, really.

A Saturday rolls around, the busiest day of the week, and there’s a few mumbles around the kitchen that Carmy’s in a bad mood today, and he’s not to be fucked with.

You were nothing if not nosy, so when Richie and Natalie are having a heated conversation in the dining room before prep starts, you can’t help but insert yourself. “What’s up, guys? Everything chill?” Richie shot you a look, but not before leaning down closer to your ear, sworn to secrecy.“Claire bitched out Carmy on a drunk phone call last night,” He starts, before Natalie can stop him. “No, it wasn’t-“ “Yeah, it was. It was gnarly. She finally actually got mad about opening night and let him fuckin’ have it, good for her,” he laughs, letting his hands plunge into his pockets. “What did she say?” Natalie’s sweet voice was a sharp contrast to Richie’s, low, and soft, when she replied, “He didn’t say much. Just that she called, and he had his stupid sad puppy dog eyes on, so obviously she must’ve said some… stuff.”

Carmy was scrubbing the floors of the kitchen, head down, obviously not taking any notice to the mini staff meeting in the dining room. “Just don’t mention it, ‘kay? I don’t think anyone’s supposed to know. He hasn’t heard from her in weeks and now he’s all fucked up over it, he’ll probably be a real bitch later.” “Heard, chef. Will try not to piss off Princess Carmy.”

The service isn’t so bad. Carmy’s mopey - downturned eyes, less yelling than you’d anticipated. It’s almost scary; seeing him rather calm, a little sad, reduced to a heartbroken boy who just feels fucking bad for himself. You try to stay out of his way, focusing on getting plates of custard and cake out in time, with no mistakes. It’s a lot of ‘yes chef, thank you chef, great chef’. You’d almost actually prefer it like this.

You find him out back having a cigarette right before you’re gonna head out. He hasn’t bothered to put his sweater or coat on, arms bare against the cold night air as he blows the hot smoke into a cloud above him. “Hey,” you start, sitting next to him. It feels a little odd to be close to him - intimate, in a way that you’re not used to. “You seemed off tonight. Is something up?” You put your hand out expectantly for a cigarette, and he obliges, with his lighter to follow. 

“No, chef,” he starts, dusting some salt from the street off his shoe. “Thank you though.” “You know I don’t have to be chef outside of that kitchen,” you bump a shoulder with him. “You’ve called me a lot of other names, God knows.” He stifles a laugh and looks at you again, with a softness in his features you’d never really seen before. “I just had a rough night last night, is all,” he finishes. “Just feels so fucking bad. I feel like I’m so bad at… this.” He gestures to the night sky around him. “I don’t know how to balance anything. I keep… I keep fucking losing people. People I like, people… people I fucking love. And like, what am I supposed to do about that?” You can see his face get hot as he lets the heel of his hand rub his eye. “You let it happen,” you finish, taking a puff of your own cigarette. “You do what you can and you let yourself feel it and you mourn and grieve until you can’t anymore, until it doesn’t feel right to anymore.”

He nods in agreement, letting you both smoke in silence. “Can I give you a ride home?” He asks, and you know what that means. “Yeah,” you agree softly. “Sure, thanks. Go get your stuff, I’ll wait here.” When he’s back, he locks the back door of the restaurant and lets you stand up first, following behind you.

When you make it back to your place, it’s different. He’s comfortable here now, having been in your space enough times to know where he was welcomed. Normally, it goes like, he’s panting down your neck before you can even get in the door, and once he’s put his stuff down, the back of your knees are hitting the mattress, wet sloppy kisses along your collarbones and neck, down over your breasts and down down down…

But he’s not being like that. When he sets his coat down, he finds his way to your couch. You pull a glass out of the cupboard to fill with ice and cold water, handing it to him before doing the same for yourself. “Can we… can we go to bed?” He asks, and it’s softer than usual. “Sure,” you smile, opening the door to your bedroom and watching as he strips bare, before pulling out a pair of grey sweat pants he had stashed in your closet. You’d stayed the night at his one time, so-affectionately wearing them in the morning to make him a cup of morning coffee, and decided just to wear them home. “Keep them,” he had said to you that day, “just in case.”

When he climbs in between your white sheets, he seems to instantly relax. He generally did after work, from what you saw - and even though he often had a hard time letting the day go, it seemed like whenever he was with you, he could let it go a little easier. You grabbed a pair of pyjamas for yourself and slid them on, before cracking the window slightly and letting the cool breeze in. The chain around his neck glistened in the moonlight, as he let his eyes flutter closed, just for a minute. When you let your hand brush over his arm, tracing the faded inky lines of his tattoos, he opened one eye slightly, eliciting a small laugh from the side of his mouth. “Feels nice,” he offered, soft against the sounds of the nighttime. “Would you be offended if we didn’t fuck tonight?” His eyes are still closed, and even though it seems a bit ridiculous to ask, you can tell it was hard for him to get the words out. It didn’t really mean that, it meant, can we just be here, together, and enjoy each other for a night? Do you want me here if not for that? 

“Of course not, Carmen,” you let your head hit the pillow, kissing his shoulder and letting your hand grasp his bicep. “You never call me Carmen,” he comments, voice soft, before he looks over at you. “I kinda like it. Only you, though.” You let the curls of his hair tangle around your fingers as he started to drift off, you following not long after. And it’s actually fine this time.

[tinytalkingtina]

Born to Run

Part 1 of Running with the Devil, a Steddie role reversal series

4k words | Rating: E

Tags/CW: Role reversal no upside down AU with some canon divergence, Jock/Track Star!Eddie, Metalhead/drug dealer!Steve, appalachian Eddie, confident bisexual Steve, Eddie has a sexuality crisis but is in denial, Eddie's sleeping mind decides to take matters into its own hands, wet dream (contains spanking and public humiliation), running of both the literal and metaphorical kind, child abuse referenced indirectly (physical beatings that happened in the past)

Read now on Ao3, and be sure to read @little-annie's Part 2 from Steve's POV, "Metal Health will Drive you Mad"

The sex dream within this fic is brought to you by the Week 4 prompt "slap" of the @steddiesmuttyseptember event

Eddie was always a runner. If you asked Wayne, he apparently skipped straight from crawling to toddling around as fast as his chubby legs could carry him. When he got older, it was a release valve, for everything and anything shitty in his life.

He didn’t have to think about his mom pulling a disappearing act, or his dad getting himself arrested (again). The world would narrow until the only sounds he could hear were the rushing in his ears and the smack of his sneakers on pavement.

Running had brought him to where he was now, as he clawed his way up the proverbial high school ranks. Anyone at this party would look at him and only see the triumphant senior captain of the track team, fresh off a successful meet. Every keg stand, every heroic retelling of a close race, every sloppy makeout session with a cheerleader, kept the attention on the Eddie of the present. 

No one needed to remember the wide-eyed weirdo with patched baggy clothes, nearly ten when his classmates would only turn nine that year.

All around him, the crowd ebbed and flowed between the alcohol and the bonfire, the flickering flames and shadows making it hard to tell who was who. Someone stumbled into Eddie, breaking him out of his brooding.

“Whoops, sorry Eddie! Guess I’ll have to make it up to you later.” Before he could say anything, the giggling cheerleader pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. (He knew he went on a date with her about a month ago, but her name eluded him. Tina, maybe, or Vicki?)

He forced a grin back. “Of course you didn’t mean it sugar. Gonna hold you to that ‘kay?”

The girl possibly named Tina swooned at the tiny bit of accent he'd carefully slipped in. Just a touch could be charming to the fine folks of the Midwest, even if what he ended up using was way less Appalachian hick and more refined Southern gentleman than his momma's family had ever spoken in their lives.

As soon as her back was turned, he let the smile slide off. His post-meet high wore off too quickly tonight, and it left him well, twitchy.

An arm slung itself over his shoulder. "Ed my man, this party is wild! Your best work yet dude." Tommy grinned at him, already drunk. Neither of them commented on how close Tommy was pressing himself into Eddie. Or how Eddie wasn't quite moving away. But then again, the two of them had perfected the art of leaving things unsaid after what happened sophomore year, how close they had come to—no.

"Heh, yeah. Hey, where's Carol? She's gonna be pissed you abandoned her."

"Please, Carol's fine. She's busy talking with Lisa Carmichael. Speaking of which, she's really into you. Come on, get your dick wet, you deserve it after that 800 meter. We're fucking going to states!" His last sentence was said much louder, and a chorus of cheers and whoops predictably echoed back from celebratory partygoers. The twitchiness grew.

"I dunno man, not really feeling it tonight." Eddie tried to subtly back up a little bit, but Tommy just swayed forward into his space again.

“Trust me, you won’t be feeling like that when you're balls deep in a nice tight—"

"Tommy will you just fucking stop? What's with your obsession with my dick huh?"

A look of fear and hurt flashed across Tommy's face for a second, before it was replaced with a scowl. Fuck that was the wrong thing to say and danced way too close to the thoughts about—nope, they were not gonna talk about that.

Eddie carefully pat Tommy on the shoulder instead of thinking. "Shit sorry, it's fine, you're just looking out for me, right? I appreciate it, just not uh, really in the partying mood for some reason." 

Tommy managed to recover his grin. "Oh, duh, why didn't you say so? That fucking freak Harrington finally showed up about thirty minutes ago. Sure he's got something that'll make you unwind a bit. Here, have one on me.”

Eddie wanted to snap that he didn’t need pity money. He got the kegs supplied just fine on his own, hadn’t he? But Tommy was still holding himself tensely several steps away. Tommy, who in sixth grade biked over every other day even after his parents had told him to stay away from the trailer park. Who “accidentally” always had a second pudding cup tucked in with his lunch for sharing. Whose summertime freckles were just starting to fade but Eddie knew still trailed down all the way to his—. 

Besides, maybe weed would take the edge off whatever ugly thing kept rearing its insistent head inside him tonight. Help him forget about the looming pressures of the future and the things he wasn’t going to think about, help him feel normal again.

“Thanks Tommy, I’ll try and relax.” Eddie grabbed the money and set off down the path towards Skull Rock, where Harrington always held court. The chill wind rustling through the trees was a welcome respite to his overheated skin.

The walk over to the next clearing was only a few minutes, but by the time Eddie came upon it, the thrum of bass and general teenage debauchery had faded into a low murmur.

Instead, Skull Rock reverberated with the sound of tapping and gentle humming. Eddie’s heart picked up a little.

Steve Harrington made him nervous. It wasn’t necessarily how loud the guy was. Eddie could understand the need to fill a room up. He could vaguely remember a quieter pre-pubescent Harrington before his dramatic transformation, dressed in tiny polos and khakis and halfheartedly kicking around a soccer ball. Now, his entire wardrobe consisted solely of black and red accented with flashy gold rings. The thick combat boots he wore constantly made him tower over everyone else, and the ever-growing collection of tattoos scattered on his body thoroughly scandalized each and every teacher. What they all meant was a perennial topic of discussion amongst the student body.

A voice echoed down from one of the boulders: “Oh hey, look who showed up, it’s Eddie Munson himself! Heard from your sidekick Hagan you’re the reason Hawkins is going to States.”

Steve was stretched out, lounging on the top of the rock, a pair of drumsticks held loosely in one hand.

“Yup, we are. First time in five years actually.” The state championships. There would be college recruiters there, and with them the promise of scholarships that’d get him out of this town. Somewhere far away from the looming threat of the plant bending his back prematurely like it had Wayne’s. Somewhere no one had heard the name of Al Munson.

“Well then.” Steve practically purred as he smoothly jumped down to the ground. He gave his drumsticks a twirl before stashing them in his pocket. “You sure got ‘em, didn’t you Tiger.”

Yeah, there it was. Seemed like sometimes, Harrington could see right through him, like he knew about how his thoughts occasionally strayed to—nope.

Eddie crossed his arms and tried to keep his face neutral. “Uh-huh.”

“Don’t you know it’s polite to thank someone when they compliment you?” Steve’s eyes sparkled with amusement. The fucker was toying with him. Worse, he was enjoying it.

Summoning every ounce of cockiness he possessed, Eddie stood up straight. Sure, this close Harrington had several inches on him, but it didn’t matter. Only one of them could throw the party of the year, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the unpopular weirdo in front of him.

“Shouldn’t you be the one thanking me? I let you sell your shit at my party.”

“Got a mouth on you, don’t you.” Steve smirked. “Tell me Munson, what’s stopping me from taking my goodies to, say, the basketball team’s next rager and skipping out on your little get together entirely? Don’t have to dirty my shoes at their parties. They choose to host at a house.”

Eddie gritted his teeth. “Hey fuck you man, not all of us have—”

“Didn’t say I minded,” Steve plowed on, interrupting him. “Maybe I like the fresh air and the…view. Just like to enjoy them peacefully.” He stood there with his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in expectation.

Eddie could feel his face flushing but he held his ground. “Never stopped you from helping yourself to our beer.”

“Free shitty beer, just what I look forward to.” Steve said, rolling his eyes. “I gotta say, wasn’t really expecting you to come here. Don’t you usually send someone else to get your fix?”

Eddie shrugged. “Needed a change. And we both know you overcharge Tommy.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” Steve barked out a laugh. “But he deserves the asshole tax. Just weed for you tonight? There’s all kinds of ways to unwind if your usual methods are leaving you…unsatisfied there Munson.”

Vividly, Eddie was reminded of the graffiti scribbled on the walls above the urinals near the gym: Score a touchdown, then score with SH. More often than not, Steve could be found spectating the games, quietly dealing underneath the bleachers. On occasion, one girl or another could be seen emerging from underneath and brushing dirt off her skirt. But there was that other rumor, one that no guy would ever admit to having personal experience with. That if you won, Harrington would give anyone weed for free if they got on their knees for him and—woah there. What was wrong with him tonight?

“Th-think the weed is jus’ fine, ain’t lookin’ for much else.” he stammered out. Shit, why did his accent have to slip now of all times? “I mean, weed is all I need. Those fucking pricks from Greencastle got under my skin.” Assholes thought they were so big, mocking his out of style sneakers. Those shoes hadn't stopped him from shaving half a second off the regional record, but he couldn't help but still feel the barbs from their insults lodged under his skin, festering.

Steve cocked his head as he stared at Eddie with an unreadable expression on his face. Finally he broke into a disarming smile. Eddie couldn’t remember ever seeing Steve sincerely express happiness, at least not from this distance. He would have remembered how prett—how his eyes lit up.

“I’m in a band you know. Pierced Scepter. We play down at this shitty dive bar and yeah, usually it’s a crowd of four drunks and the bartender, but it doesn’t matter. Being on any stage is…fuck it’s awesome. But sometimes it’s a little too much to just pack it all up right after. So I come out here to scream my head off, get it all out. Better off terrorizing the birds than picking fights when my parents are around.” Steve unconsciously rubbed his palm as he laughed humorlessly. “Saves on the screaming matches at home and the. Well.”

“Didn’t realize rich folks got their own hands dirty like that.” Carol’s parents had left the task of punishment to her nanny, preferring to swoop in with carrots after the stick had been administered.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure my dad would say something about how ‘real men are responsible for disciplining their kids so they don’t get soft.’ Though what he considers ‘soft’ changes a lot based on his mood. And whether he’s wearing a belt or suspenders that day.”

“G-d, who knew our dads have something in common then?” Eddie snorted. “Never could keep my old man happy, was always doing something wrong. He took the belt to me so often in third grade I barely could sit down the whole year.” His first time in third grade anyway, the one before he was whisked away to the safe haven of Wayne’s trailer.

“And…I have absolutely no idea why I told you that.” He barely talked about his dad to Tommy and Carol for crying out loud. On visitor’s days he always made up some lie about why he and Wayne were driving close to the state penitentiary.

Steve let out a weird little braying bark of a laugh and shuffled his feet. “Right, you didn’t come here to cry over our daddy issues. Gimme a sec to get your stuff.” Steve reached behind to grab the lunchbox he carried his goods around in. As he did, his jacket slid open enough to show the exposed line of his clavicle above the low-cut collar of his tee. Eddie swallowed hard. Against his will, his eyes dipped lower, noticing a design over the top of his pec in black ink. Oh, a new tattoo.

Eddie squinted trying to make out what it was. “It’s been a while since you gave O’Donnell a reason to lecture us on the ‘decaying morality of the modern day.’ Is that a two headed monkey?”

Delight flickered over Steve’s face. “This? Yeah, it’s new. Supposed to be Demogorgon, the ‘Prince of Demons.’” At Eddie’s blank look he chuckled. “He’s a monster from Dungeons and Dragons, you know, the fantasy game we play in Hellfire Club. It was the final battle of a months long campaign and our characters were trying to escape Demogorgon’s lair. Most of the party was close to death, but at a chokepoint, my character took a last stand and gave the others enough time to escape. Everyone else got out, even if the bastard got me in the end. So, I got this as a tribute to my character's sacrifice.”

Eddie spoke without thinking. “Oh, that’s kind of similar to what Gandalf did: facing off against the Balrog to save the rest of the Fellowship.”

Forget fleeting glimpses of real smiles. The look of surprise Steve gave him was almost comically out of place on his face. “You’ve read Lord of the Rings?”

“While ago, yeah. The Hobbit too.” Back when he first moved in with Wayne, the man had found an absolutely beautiful illustrated set at a rummage sale. Eddie smiled to himself, remembering how excited he’d been to get his first real present ever. “Spent a whole summer running around during the day, then staying up way too late reading all night. My uncle had to confiscate my flashlight eventually.”

A snort from Steve jolted Eddie out of his memories as he realized who he was talking to. “Don’t tell anyone that Harrington, or else,” he ordered as he flushed for the second time that evening, “The rest of your dorky club of nerds better not start bothering me in the hallway just because I’ve read Tolkien. Not going to step in to save them if they forget their place.”

Steve’s expression shuttered as he stood upright. “Right, wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation with the rest of your jock buddies.” Eddie was taken aback by the bitterness in Steve’s voice. “They might explode if you admit to having interests beyond banging chicks, sports magazines, and beer. Your secret’s safe with me. After all, who’s going to believe the Freakshow? Here.” He shoved a baggie in Eddie’s face. “That should be enough for about a week. Now get lost before I double the price.”

Eddie opened his mouth to apologize. But the artificial sneer on Steve’s face made him lose his nerve. He just held out his money as he snatched away the weed. “Thanks, uh, have a good night Harrington. Help yourself to something from the kegs.” He almost made it to the edge of the trees before Steve’s voice called out to him: “Hey, Munson!” 

He froze and turned. Steve had clambered back onto Skull Rock, moonlight and shadows making him look otherworldly and malevolent, towering over the clearing. “Keep that attitude of yours in check next time, or else I might take my services somewhere else. But, if you need more help…unwinding, well. You know where to find me.” That knowing smirk was firmly fixed back in place on his face. 

Eddie couldn’t help it. He finally gave into his impulses and ran.

He didn’t think about those plush lips drawn back into a genuine smile as he quickly navigated back to the party. He didn’t think about those amused eyes seeing right through him as he knocked back a few cups of beer and danced a little with anyone and no one. And he certainly wasn’t thinking about that tattoo surrounded by chest hair as he staggered home to an empty trailer and collapsed into his bed.

“You look so good there, kneeling for me Eddie.” Steve looms over him, those ringed hands on his hips. Eddie realizes he’s naked in the clearing and flushes with embarrassment. When did he take off his clothes?

Any thoughts on how he ended up here are derailed when the wind caresses his body. Oh. Tendrils of air race over his exposed chest and glide over his heavy balls and dripping cock. 

“And look how much you’re enjoying it too.” He’s never been this turned on in his life, and it’s all because of Steve. All for Steve. He’s powerless to prevent a moan from falling out of his mouth. 

“You act so big at school, like you’re the top of the food chain yeah? A real king of the jungle. But you and me, we know better. You’re not a scary tiger at all are you. No, you’re just a cute little kitten.”

Eddie can’t help but whine as he spreads himself wider in invitation.

“Yeah, thought you’d like that.” Steve crooks a finger and gestures for Eddie to follow him. “Come on kitten.” Eddie begins to get up, his legs tingling with pins and needles.

“Mhm, no. I like you better down there. In fact, I think you should crawl.”

He shudders but obeys the sound of that voice, would do anything for it. He stays on all fours as the path unwinds before them, until they come to a door. Eddie moves as fast as he can to follow Steve through, tumbling into the void within. He flails, plummeting until a familiar wax-polished wood rushes up to meet his palms. Eddie doesn’t dare get up from his hands and knees as he lifts his head but-

The gym is filled to the brim. 

Their classmates sit silently, blank looks on their faces as they stare. They’re waiting for something to happen. White hot shame courses through his veins as he desperately tries to cover up.

The voice cuts smoothly through the haze of his embarrassment: “Look at them kitten, they’re all waiting for a show. Let’s give one to them.”

Steve nudges him onto his back. He grabs his wrists and pulls them away from his body, exposing Eddie to the crowd. No! His face is on fire as he tries to fight it, but he can’t seem to break free, his strength sapped away. Steve tightens his hold on his wrists.

“Settle down Eddie, let them see you. You love this.”

He knows Steve is right. He can’t hide how hard his aching cock is, slapping against his belly as he squirms. But he can’t help it, they’ll all know. Faint whispers drift down from the stands as the crowd watches him struggle.

“Please, don’t make me do this,” he begs, but the words get caught in his choked up throat.

“I think you’ve forgotten your place. Maybe you need a reminder that you can’t hide, not from me.”

Steve hauls him up and easily slings him over a shoulder. Eddie lays there limply, frozen and whimpering. He’s unceremoniously dumped on top of a teacher’s desk right at the center line.  Hands come up to squeeze at his nipples, hard. Just the way he does when he’s alone. His cock twitches and drools even more from the groping. 

Eddie blinks, and suddenly the bleachers are that much closer.

“Be happy kitten, all the attention is on you! Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?” Oh G-d. Every eye is fixed on him, the buzzing of interest growing louder.

“No, I don’t want this, I don’t want you!” He shouts as loud as he can but the words come out muted and garbled.

Steve barks out a cruel laugh. “God, you’re pathetic. But then you’ve always been so good at lying to yourself haven’t you? You were the one who kissed Tommy, not the other way around. But when he went in for more, you pushed him off and ran away.”

Through the blur of tears, he can just make out Tommy’s face in the crowd, wearing the same accusatory and hurt look he had two years ago.

Steve leans down to nibble at his ear. “And,” he whispers, his voice silky smooth. “Let’s not forget how in the back of your head you imagine me shoving you against a locker and making you take it. Or sometimes, I threaten you with my knife a little out in the woods, yeah?”

Without warning, Eddie is manhandled over Steve’s lap. “Good news, guess today’s your lucky day kitten. I’m going to make you take it until you admit to everyone what you really want.”

SMACK!

The first slap to his ass sounds loudly, echoing around the gym. Eddie nearly swallows his tongue trying to keep quiet. The spectators in the stands let out a gasp for him.

But Steve doesn’t stop there. He keeps going, until Eddie feels like his ass is on fire.

He finds himself pleading for Steve to have mercy, slipping back into the accent he tries so hard to keep a lid on normally.

“Ha, there he is, finally. You can dress yourself up in a varsity jacket all you want, but we all know what you really are. Just a piece of trailer trash. You can’t run from this you dumb hick. Tell me what I want to hear.”

Eddie shakes his head. He can’t. “Fine, then take your punishment.”

Smack after smack rains down on his ass. The pain builds and builds, and the crowd gets louder and louder. But underneath the humiliation, he remains hard and grows even more desperate. Every slap sends him thrusting, his cock trapped between Steve’s muscular thighs. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Ha! And you jocks call me the freak. You’re the one humping my leg and yowling like you’re in heat. Pain turn you on kitten?”

That’s all it takes to push him over the edge. 

He cums to the sound of cheers.

Eddie woke with a jolt and a gasp, his whole body pulsing in the aftermath of the most intense orgasm he’d ever experienced. 

Trembling, he curled up into a ball and let the tears fall. This was nothing, just a passing thought his brain had gotten attached to. All he had to do was survive the year, and then he could be finally free of Hawkins, and the living ghosts that haunted him.

If only that had been the last time he dreamed of Steve Harrington.

Two weeks later, Eddie woke with a fuzzy head and even fuzzier memories of the night before, vaguely remembering a ringed hand stroking his hair. On his nightstand was a glass of water, some Tylenol, and a note from SH telling him to take it easy. 

After that his dreams changed. Sometimes he wasn’t humiliated at all, and those tattooed arms kept him safe and cared for. It felt worse almost, to have his subconscious offer up such happiness, only to snatch it away when he woke to an empty bed. He didn’t dare spend the night in the arms of a girl at her house, worried he’d reveal himself for the freak he was.

A full month of torment and countless hours of lost slumber later, Eddie finally had had enough. He grabbed his keys and tore off in the direction of Steve's house, praying that Carol wouldn't see his van in her neighbor's driveway at this time of night.

As he rang the doorbell, he didn’t know what to expect. But it certainly wasn’t the sight of a sleep rumpled Steve answering the door in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. Somehow, seeing his bare hands felt more intimate than the lack of shirt did.

“Munson? Gave me a heart attack, thought my parents were back a day early. What are you—”

“Hey,” Eddie interrupted, wide-eyed and feeling slightly crazed. “Can we talk?”

Ao3 link

It's finally here! This began life as a brain worm that Annie and I have turned into a whole fully expanded universe. We can't wait to write more with these two :D

Tagging a few folks who showed interest in the original Wiggly Wednesday post (but please feel free to ignore): @eyesofshinigami @augustjustice @griefabyss69 @hairstevington

@dreamy-jeans137 @eriquin @hbyrde36 @hotluncheddie

Thank you to steddiecameraroll-graphics for the runner divider!

[kdogreads]

maybe grumpy richie x sunshine reader whos also like syds best friend and she comes in and is just extremely nice to him and he flirts w her until syd comes out and yells at him 😇😇

LOVE this! Thank you so much sweet nonnie 😍😍

This is giving suit-Richie, so not that grumpy ☹️🫶

“Hiiiii!” Syd squeals as she’s pops out of the kitchen in her pretty new chef’s coat, “I’m so glad you made it!”

She pulled you into a tight hug and you reciprocated the sheer joy at seeing your closest friend in her element.

“I’m so happy to be here, Syd. This place is incredible,” You shot her a proud gaze and she just waved you down. Typical Sydney to act like it’s not a big deal.

“Thank you—yeah, thanks. It’s been a lot, but let me take you through the kitchen and show you—“

She paused when Richie cleared his throat impatiently, obviously wanting an introduction.

“Ah, right, sorry,” Syd chuckled, “This is Richie — Front of house manager and Carmy’s cousin.”

He extended a hand to you and you shook it gracefully, noting how small your own hand felt in his big one.

“Good to finally meet you, sweetheart. Syd here talks about you all the time,” Richie smiled sweetly at you, and a shockwave shot through your veins.

“Same to you, Richie. I’ve heard a lot,” You spoke confidently as he slowly released your hand.

His eyebrows shot up in feigned surprise, “All good things, I hope.” He ended his thought with a wink and you swear you felt your heart stop for a beat. Those crystal blue eyes staring into yours; you couldn’t stop the thoughts running through your head.

God, he has a pretty smile. And he smells so good. And—

“Well we’ve been friends for like ever and I haven’t given you a tour yet, so,” Sydney trails off, trying to ignore whatever this thing is happening between you and Richie right now.

You tried your best to wipe the giddy grin from your face as you nodded to Sydney, ready to celebrate this incredible restaurant with her.

Syd took you back through the kitchen where you were happy to meet all of the people she’d spoken so highly of — Carmy, Tina, Marcus, even Fak. They were all just as skilled and friendly as she’d told you.

The two of you stayed chatting a while until she took you back out to the table she’d reserved just for you. Dinner service was about to begin and the sharply-dressed servers began seating other excited guests.

You spotted Richie on the other side of the dining room. He looked so handsome with his suit jacket on and buttoned, a new addition to the look you’d met him in earlier. The thoughts running through your mind were downright dangerous.

Your eyes drifted over the menu as you tried to expel Richie from your brain. You tried so hard to focus on the richly flavored dishes on the page that you didn’t notice when someone walked up to your table.

“Doing okay, sweetheart?” You jumped at the sweet, sultry voice, “I’ll be personally taking care of you tonight.”

The lights were just dim enough to hide Richie’s wink and your blushing cheeks.

“Uh, yeah—yes! Great, Richie, thank you,” Trying and failing to hide your giddiness, you watched as he set an icy purple-ish drink down in front of you.

“Vodka, sugar-free cranberry juice and a splash of lime.”

You couldn’t hide the shocked look in your face for the life of you, “Wow. You really do your homework, huh?”

Richie leaned in close, close enough you could feel his minty breath on your cheek when he spoke.

“I’m all about the service, baby.”

A shiver ran down your spine as he straightened up, a smug, knowing smirk on his face. You could tell he was about to say something else when the door to the kitchen swung open just a few feet away.

“Richie!” Syd whisper-yelled, “Flirt with my friend later please, I need your help in here.”

She darted back into the kitchen before either of you could respond. Richie’s smug smirk melted into a warm smile and your cheeks started to feel hot yet again.

“I’ll be seeing you soon?” Richie questioned with an eyebrow raised.

“I hope so,” You folded your hands and rested your head in them, batting your lashes up at a swooning Richie.

He simply nodded slightly, smile still plastered on his lips, before turning to head for the kitchen.

You really, really did hope you’d be seeing him later.

[shubluvr]

i’ll just write out everything i know/remember about tina and foolish. get ready this is an essay. some of it you may know already. im very serious about them

there’s been small things for years but the consensus was generally that they were just friends up until earlier this year. when tina did a wine stream with ellum, foolish was in and out of the viewer list and chat until like 4:00 am, as if he was restless. he had a sponsor the next day. it was super unusual behavior for him

like a week later he shows up in LA for literally no reason. there’s a beef wellington cooking stream where they dance and are cute but its not super relevant. he and tina do their own wine stream, and they have insane tension for most of the latter half of the stream. foolish’s blanket/bed is visible behind him at his LA setup, and it remained unchanged between his stream the day of the wine stream and the day after. he didn’t sleep in his bed

he leaves eventually but comes back for tinas birthday. he then goes with tina to new york for a beats sponsor, she doesnt take anyone else and he has no reason to go there other than to support her.

the next time he’s in LA, all of the other roomies have moved out. its just him and tina in their house. he’s essentially there just to keep her company, he comes like 2 weeks before she moves. one stream, tina comes back from emma langevin’s birthday party. foolish rushes to end stream as soon as he finishes a valo game. the next day when he goes live his bed is again exactly the same. when tina goes live, she noticed her pants are on the ground behind her, briefly looks panicked, and says she took them off as soon as she got home to get comfortable. this is the most damning evidence we have imo

he then helps her move, and his LA setup goes into a room in tina’s new apartment. all of his clothes and shit are at her place. currently he’s back in LA and is staying with her. hes buying a bunch of stuff for his setup and essentially moving in. she makes coffee for him and they watch tv every night. its very surreal to watch

in all this time of people speculating and them acting like a couple, they have never said theyre just friends or not dating. they ignore anyone who asks. theyve even both disagreed with people calling them siblings.

im sorry this took me so long to answer anon but this is amazing i hope u have a wonderful life thank u

[an0nfr0mth3d3n]

As a sapphic myself, how could I not write a bit about the cutest lesbian couple (almost) on the qsmp?

The day Bagi got picked for Team Soulfire was one of the best days of her life, that she remembered at least. That Eye guy must really be homophobic because Bagi was going crazy with not being able to see the adorable girl that had so captured her heart.

Bagi picked the last of her supplies into her backpack, shouldering it quickly. There was no telling when her former teammates who had got chosen for Red could show up, and she wasn’t keen on finding out if the Green Gay spirit would grant her immunity from her former team.

Plus the sooner she saw Tina the sooner she could find happiness in this cruel horrible world of Purgatory.

Bagi smiled as the sun beat down on her face, soaking up the sounds and smells of the jungle one last time. The spicy hint of cacao, the distant squawk of a parrot, the gentle mist kissing her face, the earthy loam beneath her feet, and the far off crashing of waves against a sandy shore.

With spirit determined, she marched forwards towards the sounds of the waves.

Admittedly, she did in fact tense up a little bit when she saw the terror of the island Badboyhalo, who was doing figure eights in a motorboat (on the beach), but considering she already knew he was coming down to pick her up she wasn’t too surprised.

“BAGIIIII” Bad yelled when he saw her coming from the dense woods.

“BADDDDD!!” Bagi couldn’t help smiling at the sight of her dear friend, and she jogged forward to greet him.

Bad’s eyes narrowing in a manner that Bagi had come to associate with mischief, and as she approached, she noticed him type something out on his communicator.

Bagi stopped in front of him, leaning her hand on her hip. “Ok, whaaat are you typi- OOF”

Her sentence was cut short with a loud impact to her back, causing the Brazilian to fall onto the sand. The confusion only lasted a few seconds because with the impact came a high pitched happy squealing and even though it had been a week, Bagi would know that sound anywhere. “TINAAAAAAAAAAA”

The weight on her back shifted, and Bagi turned over in the sand, not minding the beach sand that was getting into her hair. In front of her, was her beloved-

Woah wait were those abs????

Bagi gawked at the crop top exposing Tina’s midriff. Where once was soft squishy belly, not that Bagi was specifically ever checking Tina out haha never…, were now sharply defined and well tanned muscles.

Bagi could hardly breathe as she tore her eyes away, face bursting into heat. It really didn’t help that as she did so she caught sight of the lean muscle now attached to Tina’s arms, and the pretty tan that the other girl had gotten.

Speaking of the other girl-

“Oh my god. What was I THINKING. Why did I DO that? I literally do not even know why I did that Bagi I am SO sorry. Ohhh god this is so embarrasssiiinngggg. Oh my god let me help you up.”

As Tina talked anxiously, Bagi could feel her senses returning, and briefly registered the shi- the muffin-eating grin on Bad’s face.

“Wow Tina I can’t believe you ATTACKED poor Bagi! I’m so sorry, I guess she doesn’t want you on our team!” Bad said far too cheerfully.

“Shut up you FREAK!” Tina yelled at the…vampalien?

“Freak??” Bad scoffed pompously, “I take offense to that! Bagi get your dog under control!”

“YOU’RE THE D-“

BONK

“OW!”

“DON’T MESS WITH TINA!”

Bad grumbled, rubbing his head, expression that of a kicked puppy. “Such violence! I cannot believe you would hit me, and with a cooking pot of all things!”

Bagi hefted the weight of the pot in her hands “Yeah, well I don’t have my frying pan, so this will do!”

“Wait, you have a cooking pot? Oh my god we should totally make a dinner for each other tonight!” Tina said, grasping Bagi’s arm with stars in her eyes.

Bagi stared. Tina’s face, while slightly cut in bruised from the trials of literally existing in purgatory, was gorgeously sun kissed, a faint tan spread evenly across her complexion that spoke tales of working in the sun.

“Um. Errrr. Yeah. Do you have any ingredients?” Bagi managed to get out.

Tina smirked proudly. “Ingredients? Girl, I’m like, the co-leader of the entire farm! I could get you anything! Anything for you Bagi!”

Bagi grinned, heart fluttering. “Then let’s have a nice dinner tonight. Might as well enjoy something in this hellish place!”

“Could I co-“

“No.”

[opalcicle]

If They Call Me a Slut, You Know it Might be Worth it for Once

Ch. 10 Car Fries

Left you sleeping, borrowed some clothes. 😘

I send Bizly the text and a selfie in one of his big t-shirts from the back of the Uber.

It was late afternoon by the time finally I made it out of Biz's place. I'd made myself up some leftover pasta, washed the dishes, and found something to wear. He was still sleeping, butt-naked and sprawled out in his bed when I figured it was time to go.

I start a warm bath and a coffee when I make it back to my apartment. Humming as I prepare for a relaxing day and letting my good mood carry me through the self care. My legs are stiff, and my whole body aches like a bitch, but damn do I feel great. The water in the tub soothes my muscles nicely.

It's late in the day when I finally have the wherewithal to check any messages.

Grizzly

Dude you sooooo owe me a drink next time we're all out. jk. Unless? ????

No but for real we should catch up soon sounds like you've got a lot going on.

me:

Next weekend man, I drank so much last night.

Jaiden

Saw you on the dance floor. Didn't know you knew Tina. 👀

me:

Met her last weekend at Schlatt's. 😊

Hey do you know if she's into girls or like, just having some fun?

Charlie

Still up?

My heart skips a beat seeing his name. I respond without thinking.

me:

Yeah!

Wait I mean no, it's tomorrow now.

But I'm up, what's up?

There's a missed call from him as well, and a voicemail waiting. At the time I recieved it I would have been in Bizly's garage. I hold my breath for a long second, attempting to stave off the guilt creeping through my chest. Then I listen.

"Hey!" He sounds excited, "Hey, hi. I tried to find you tonight but I think you left. So like um. Are we okay? I mean, it seems like we're not, but also I miss talking to you. Dude, I ate a whole thing of fries in the car by myself and man it was weird as hell. Also I'm sorry I said I love you. I know that's like a crazy thing to do. But also, I do love you. You're for real the coolest person ever. We don't have to be together, or like anything at all. But you're my best friend, my ride or died, die? But died rhymes that sounds better. I think we should hang out. Maybe not tomorrow I drank a lot. But yeah I love you, full homo, get fucked about it, peace out, get friend zoned loser. Okay bye. Oh fuck how do I end the-" BZZZ.

Tears form in the corners in my eyes as I laugh from my belly in a way I haven't in at least weeks. I have to listen to it again, and then a third time before I can hear it without losing it a little. Holy shit, I was not gonna let him live this down. There's a reply from him when I'm done with the voicemail.

Charlie

Hey what's up?

Oh I texted you first lol.

me:

Dude you were wasted last night. Left me a spicy voicemail.

Charlie:

I WHAT

me:

How hungover are you? Pick me up for fries tomorrow?

Charlie:

Okay???

Still sore, the laughter hurts my stomach and I need to lay down. Without meaning to, I fall asleep in the coziness of my pillows before the sun had even set. I dream of peaceful nonsense and wake in the middle of the night.

There are more messages from the evening before, and I work on replying to them.

Bizly

Lookin good in my shirt

come back soon and I'll take it off for you

me:

Dude my insides need a break. 😅

Grizzly

Yeah man! Bunch of us are doing kareyoke on Friday if you wanna come.

Caryoke? Karaoke? Idk.

me:

Hell yeah, send me the location.

Jaiden

No idea man, good luck!

me:

Thanks lol

I figured I should say something to Tina too, and really mull over whats gonna sound right. Jaiden seeing us together, and asking me about it, really had me wondering what was up with the pretty girl I've been kissing while drunk. If I really am just someone she wants to kiss at parties, she's definately got the right girl for the job. Maybe she's just nervous for more? Maybe she likes to move a little slower? I settled on something short and simple:

Thanks for inviting me out, had a great time last night. I'd love to see you again soon.

Last night? Was it really just last night?

Since I'm talking to Charlie again I better send him the first edits for the photoshoot we did. Email sent. Okay cool.

Now what? I pace my living room, try to find something to watch, scroll TikTok from various uncomfortable positions on the couch.

Tina, Charlie, and Bizly. Somehow in one night I had gone from no prospects to three suitors. I giggle to myself, suitors was a strange way to put it. Maybe it's all a little too much. Too much making out, too much sex, and way too much in the feelings department.

I let out a heavy sigh as I try to distract myself with various apps. Maybe I need a vacation. Why not? I sit up, excited by the idea. I can edit from my laptop, take a break from streaming. Ah shit streaming, maybe I'd already taken a long enough break. No. No! I deserve a Holliday. Suddenly I'm browsing travel sites, checking flights, looking for sunny beaches and all-you-can eat buffets. What if I find like, an adventure package?

It's the wee hours of the night and I've eaten, gotten ready for bed again, and settled under the covers all while planning out the details for a next-month solo getaway. By the time reservations are made and flights are booked, my heavy eyes sink closed. Before I fall asleep, one fleeting thought, does this count running away?

In the late morning, confirmation emails remind me of my new plans, and the thought of running is long gone. A message from Charlie sits in my notifications while I start my day. I update my discord, "Streaming tonight, 7pm, dunno what we're playing yet," and close the app before replies flood in. Then I check the message.

Charlie

Hey lmk when you're ready

me:

Dude how do you wake up so early?

But yeah, ready anytime.

I feel nerves build as I wait for him to arrive. The new hickies down my neck are a bright red and I debate trying to hide them, but I don't want to lie. I still haven't promised anything to anyone, but hurting Charlie is easily one of the things I've started to hate the most. When he pulls up I have to fight the desire to lock myself into my apartment.

Climbing into his car, a million things go though my mind, and in the last second I decide on finding another new nick name, "Hey Char... lie, no wait that's just your name. I'm running out of these."

He smiles at me awkwardly, hand nervously readjusting his hair. "Hey," is all he says.

"Fries?" I turn the music up as we pull away. It's still the playlist I shared with him. Thankfully the songs fill the space so we don't have to, and inspite of everything neither of us can resist singing a good song. "I'm working late, cause I'm a singer. Boy you look so cute, wrapped round my finger," I sing the part of the song we'd long ago decided was my line.

"Your twisted humour, makes me laugh so often, My honey bee, come and get this pollen," he continues before we both join together for the pre-chorus. Inspite of all the ways I like to bug Charlie, I always let him have the melody when we car duet. He loves showing off in song and I could never deny him that. We do our goofy dance moves and add our weird vocal quirks, and by the time we've made it to the drive through were laughing at eachother uncontrollably. Charlie has to stop and calm himself before we pull up to order.

Down the road, music low again, I make an attempt at normal conversation, "You know I've never asked, are you okay being the one whose always driving us around?"

He glances at me, raw emotion on his face. Fear, or maybe closer to worry, is plain in his eyes. We don't usually do deep conversation. Even me asking him how he feels about something I expect, it's definately off course.

"Y-yeah, its our rhythm, we just do it this way," he replies.

"Hmm," I barely respond, lost in my own thought. It's quiet until I speak again, "I don't ask you how you feel about a lot of things,"

It's not a question, and he doesn't answer. But after awhile he sighs, "Soo.... You saw Bizly again,"

This isn't a question either, but I sigh back, hand darting up to my neck. "I did," there's a sadness in my own voice that I don't dare call attention to.

"That's fine," he says it so quiet.

"Is it?" I hear my own voice demanding the question.

"It's-" he pauses for a long time, "let's go somewhere and talk."

Charlie takes us to a parking spot near some old baseball diamonds. They're mostly empty today. We pick at the fries for an unbearably quiet few minutes.

"I, uh- look if you'd rather be with Biz..." He trails off.

"That's not it," I shake my head. "It's like, just sex,"

"I know. I can't do that," he looks out over the diamonds through his windshield.

"No, Charlie I-" I hear myself getting defensive and take a breath, "I'm not trying to choose between anyone, I don't want him more than you,"

"It's fine-"

"No, listen!" I cut him off, anger showing its head again. I close my eyes and take several deep breaths this time. "I want you Charlie, and I like you, a lot. Not just as friends,"

His head turns to me and he looks confused.

"I'm sorry I got so mad at you. I'm sorry I freaked out. I'm sorry I haven't been talking to you." Tears immediately start falling from my face and I feel like an idiot. Charlie deserves an apology, an explanation, even if it means I have to experience my own emotions. "I'm scared, Char. I don't think I can be what you want- that I can handle something serious again. And now it's out there, now I'm having feelings and you're having feelings and we can't put them back where they came from. It scares me,"

"It's okay," he tries to sooth me, but I'm not having it.

"It's not okay. You're sad. I'm sad. Everything's fucked," my words come out softer now, the anger and frustration disappearing with my confession of fear.

"We really don't talk about our feelings," he says, looking back out the front window, "I guess this was going to boil over at some point,"

Coldness creeps over my skin as I anticipate him saying he doesn't want to see me again. Instead he takes my hand. We sit there, and he lets me cry. It's uncomfortable, but it's a start. If we've got all these stored up emotions, they have to come out somehow.

"I've been scared too, I don't want to lose you," he says when my tears slow.

"I'm not going anywhere," then I remember the vacation I booked, "except actually, I've got a trip coming up in about six weeks, and I think like maybe, that also counts a little bit as running away." I look at him and smile, exaggerating my discomfort in a toothy grin.

He laughs. This fucker looks at me and laughs. I start to laugh too, doubling over in his car until I have to catch my breath.

"Oh my god, you're so dramatic," he teases.

"You're the weirdo who likes me," I poke fun right back.

As the scarier feelings subside for us both, he asks, "What now?"

"I think maybe we talk about it more," my face scrunches at the thought, "but like later, because I haven't done this whole communication thing in years, and I missed you, and I want to make you listen to the message you left me,"

"Oh gaawwd," he groans, "I was hoping you forgot about that.

"It's really sweet, and I want to make you blush again," I wink at him before pulling up my voicemail.

As he listens his face and ears get red and I watch him in adoration. There really is no going back now. We've opened the door to something strange and new, and will just have to see where it takes us.

I can't help but laugh as the voicemail ends. "Full homo?" I ask.

"Shut uuuup," he complains, shoving fries in his mouth.

"It's cute. Made me laugh," I take a fry as well. "Charlie, I-" it's hard to say the words. The red in his face is still present, making it so easy to look at him. I lean over the center console and kiss him softly in the cheek. "Me too, full homo,"

The blush creeps up his ears and an easy, goofy smile lights up his face. He turns quickly to look at me and the moment feels so right, so much like us. He kisses me softly, slowly. I kiss him back. The heat starts to build between us and I pull away before it can get any further.

"Third time's the charm?" He says it lightly.

"Hmm?" The kiss transfered his blush to my cheeks. I was bright red as well.

"For a first kiss? Third time's the charm,"

"Yeah, Charlie, third time's the charm." I lean back in the passenger seat with a little grin as he pulls the car out and drives off.

[muchitwenty-eight]

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐍´𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 │𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

▸ This part includes the story's warnings and a playlist to immerse yourself more in the atmosphere! Just to clarify: English is not my first language, sorry if there are any mistakes, I did my best!

"Sometimes, the worst hand in cards is the one that makes you play the entire game."

Tina Kovka thought that a simple infiltration job at an exclusive club would be just another move. But when Harry Styles, the enigmatic owner, deals her the cards, she realizes she's playing with more than just her life. The club is a betting board where the rules change with every move, and betrayals are hidden under a hand of luxury. In a world of mobsters, dirty bets, and dark secrets, Tina will soon realize that in this game, the only way to win is to risk it all.

Welcome to Dead Man’s Hand. Here, the neon lights hide shadows, money moves without questions, and the rules change with every bet. There are no good guys or bad guys, only players who know a bad hand can cost them their life.

I’m Muchi, the mind behind this story.

I warn you now: Dead Man’s Hand explores the darkest corners of power, desire, and betrayal. There are no guaranteed endings, only decisions that carry consequences.

This story contains:

Explicit violence and blood Uncensored sex and erotica Drug and alcohol use Arms trafficking and organized crime Strippers, nightclubs, and illegal gambling Strong language and complex moral dilemmas

This story is entirely original, and its content belongs to me. No adaptations, modifications, or translations are allowed without my permission.

If you enjoy Dead Man’s Hand, comment on it, share it, vote for it. Your support makes a difference. And if you want to promote it with edits, fanart, or videos, it will be more than welcome.

THE MUSIC IN DEAD MAN’S HAND

The club has its own language, and it's not just the knowing glances or the bills sliding across the table. It’s the music. The soundtrack of this place is a careful mix of luxury and danger, history and modernity.

Here, the sounds of the past haven’t disappeared; they’ve only changed their skin. Swing is still alive, elegant and seductive, but it has evolved, blending with electronic music to conceal what really happens behind the velvet curtains. Electro swing. A genre that, like this club, is a deception: it sounds refined, but hides something more.

To fully immerse yourself in Dead Man’s Hand, there’s a special playlist. These are the songs that play inside the club, the beats that mark the nights of betting and betrayal, the melodies that will be mentioned in the story. You can play it in the background while you read, because this story is felt, heard, and lived.

PLAYLIST:

Now, the bet is on the table. Will you play, or will you walk away before it’s too late?

[officialpenisenvy]

Abbey road + hoth 🤓

AHA! beat to the punch of hoth by an anon oh how far the mighty fall. anyway here's abbey road ❤️

my favorite lyric: actually a pretty tough question since most of side A is just variations on the most inane lyrics with just incredible musical arrangements. i would have to say any lyric from carry that weight which im afraid is gonna do quite some heavy lifting in these answers so in the interest of keeping it varied im gonna pay homage to my childhood self and say "little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter / little darling, it feels like years since it's been clear" cause these were my favourite lyrics ever as a kid 🥹

my favorite song: for SURE either i want you (she's so heavy) or because. basic and all i know but what can i say when the song's good it's good. also shoutout to come together their version's good but tina's is better

the song that makes me cry: golden slumbers/carry that weight you know it brother‼️‼️‼️ and again also here comes the sun but that one's mostly out of nostalgia

the song that’s a fucking bop: maxwell's silver hammer goes hard as fuck idgaf. we must render unto paul what is paul's i fear

the song i most dislike/least love: you couldn't pay me to care about the beginning of the side B medley to be fully level with you. like sun king through polythene pam what the FUCK are you talking about. sorry george there's no space for your little ditties we simply MUST keep mean mr mustard. fucking kill yourself. sorry i got heated

[blckbarbiedoll]

Ghost Of You (M.B./R.J.)-Chapter 2.4

Motion Sickness

2022-Chicago, Illinois

Angie opened the door for Sophia as they walked into The Beef. The little girl ran over to Tina and embraced her tightly.

"Tina!"

"Mi amor! You gotta stop growing, girl!"

"I can't help it." She giggled.

"Come on, baby." Angie reached for her hand. "Let's go find your uncles."

The pair walked through the restaurant and quickly bumped into another familiar face.

"Morning, chef." Sydney smiled.

"Morning."

"Who's this?"

"Syd, this is my daughter, Sophia. Soph, this is chef Sydney."

"Hi, chef Sydney." The girl waved.

"Hi, Sophia. You're so pretty."

"What do you say?"

"Thank you!"

"Good. We were about to leave without you." Richie came up from the basement with a large inflatable.

"Woah." Sophia hugged him. "That's the biggest hotdog I've ever seen."

"I know, right?"

They followed him out into the parking lot where Carmy was loading boxes into the trunk.

"Uncle Carmy!" The girl ran over to her uncle and squeezed him.

"Hey, kiddo. What're you doing here?"

"Mommy said I can go to the birthday party with you guys."

"Did she?"

"Uh huh."

"Come on, Carm. She can't keep spending everyday with your mom. She's been teaching her poker."

"I learned poker when I was her age." Richie chimed in.

"I know. Exactly my point. Plus, Jimmy might give us some grace if he sees this sweet face." She rubbed her daughter's cheek.

"Fine. But she's gotta behave."

"She will. We'll take my car and meet you there."

"Hey, Soph?" Richie asked as he held up a dark blue shirt. "How cool would it be if that hotdog was wearing a Beef shirt?"

"So cool!"

"See?"

Angie shook her head and chuckled as she walked to her car.

🤍

"Hey, honey." Jimmy opened the door and wrapped his arms around Angie.

"Hey, Unc. Are Carmy and Richie already here?"

"No. The little shits are late as usual." He looked down at Sophia and smiled. "Jesus, look at you. You look just like your mother."

"But I have my daddy's ears."

"Yeah, I guess you do."

"Why don't you go find Nicky and give him his present, honey?"

She ran off into the house while Angie followed Jimmy into the kitchen.

"Angie!"

"Pete!" She grinned and hugged him. "What a nice surprise."

"Nat says hi. She's at work. She misses you."

"Oh, um, yeah I miss her too. I'm just so busy right now."

"Yeah, of course. Just give her a call maybe."

"I will."

As Angie was just about done setting up the hotdog station, Richie and Carmy walked into the backyard with boxes of supplies.

"Sorry we're late." The blonde spoke.

"We left at the same time. How'd I beat you by half an hour?"

"This fucking idiot got on the Kennedy."

"Why were you on the Kennedy? You gotta go on Edens."

"I know." He unpacked all the boxes and began chopping some fruit for the cooler. "I forgot Cicero moved to Wilmette."

"I'm just glad you're here. These kids are like hungry little animals."

"That guy is complete bullshit." Richie blurted out.

"What guy?"

"Cicero. Ya know he's not even Italian, right? A hundred percent Polish. Fucking insulting."

"You know you're not even Italian, right?"

"I'm more Italian than that guy is." Richie pulled a small orange bottle out of his leather jacket and opened the top.

"What is that?" Angie asked.

"Nothing."

"Richie, what the fuck is that?" She walked over to him.

"Relax. Shit's regulated. I suffer from anxiety and dread."

She grabbed the bottle and held it up. "Xanax?"

"You want half?"

"No." She groaned and handed it back to him. "Just be careful."

"Ange, I'm okay."

She hesitated and nodded. "Okay."

He swallowed the pill while taking a sip of juice.

"Cousin, which box did you put the ketchup in?" Carmy asked him.

"I didn't bring ketchup."

"Why didn't you bring ketchup?"

"What kinda asshole is gonna put ketchup on a hotdog?"

"A child, Richie."

"Child asshole."

"You're a child asshole."

"Okay, Carm, go find some ketchup. Richie and I'll start the grill."

He nodded before heading inside the house.

"That fucking baby."

"Don't start." Angie warned him.

"Sorry."

As the two of them were putting hotdogs on the grill, Angie's phone started ringing in her back pocket. She reached behind her and held it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Angelina Berzatto?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"My name is Annie. I'm calling on behalf of Dr. Julie Walden. She's your father, Charles's primary care physician."

"My father?"

"Yes. I'm calling to let you know that your father fainted at the grocery store today."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"Your father fell."

"Yeah, but why'd you call me?"

"You're listed as his emergency contact."

Angie groaned and cursed under her breath. "Where is he?"

"He's here at Lutheran General Hospital, room two hundred and ten. He's been asking for you."

"Um...yeah. Okay. I'll be there." Angie hung up the phone and leaned against the brick wall.

"What was that?" Richie asked.

"It's nothing. I just have to take care of something."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Tell Jimmy I'm sorry, and I'll make it up to him." She began to grab her things and headed to the front of the house. "Oh, and can you bring Soph home?"

"Sure."

"Thanks, Richie." She walked back over to him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you later."

🤍

Angie speed walked out of the elevator and down the long hallway until she got to her father's room. She stood in the doorway and took a deep breath before walking inside.

"I was wondering when you'd get here." Charles softly spoke as he laid in the hospital bed.

"Nice to see you too." She sat in the chair next to his bed. "Why'd you faint?"

"I'm not eating like I used to."

"Why? You on a diet?"

"I have pancreatic cancer. Stage four."

Angie opened her mouth to speak, but not a word came out. She sighed and leaned back in the chair. "Shit, Dad I'm sorry."

"Don't give me that bullshit sympathy."

Angie rolled her eyes. "Why'd you have the hospital call me?"

"You're my emergency contact."

"But why?"

"Because..." He sighed and shook his head. "You're all I have. Your mother's gone, and you got no siblings. You're the only one I've got."

“So I was your last choice?”

“Angelina-”

"You kicked me out."

"I know. All I ever wanted was the best for you. So when you dropped out of school, I was afraid."

"Of what?"

"That you would regret your decision, and be miserable. I was tryna show you some tough love. But I might've been a little too tough."

"Ya think?"

"Angie, I'm sorry." He reached over and grabbed her hand. "You're my daughter, and I love you. I've spent fifteen years without you. I don't have much time left. I want you in my life."

Angie felt the tears welling in her eyes. "I hated you for what you did."

"I know."

She got up and wrapped her arms around him. "But there wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think about you."

"I thought about you too, honey. And I'm so sorry I hurt you."

She sat on the edge of the bed and held his hand. "I feel like I don't even know you."

"I don't know you." He laughed. "How's your husband?"

There was a brief pause where Angie debated telling him. She put on a smile and nodded. "He's good."

"Good. I'm glad you're happy. I'd love to meet him."

"Um...I have a daughter." She changed the subject.

"I have a grandchild?"

"Mhm. Her name is Sophia. She's ten." She took out her phone and showed him a photo.

"She's so beautiful." His eyes began to water. "Can I meet her?"

"I think we can arrange that."

🤍

"Hey." Angie softly smiled as she walked into the restaurant.

"Angie!" Neil grinned, enveloping her in a tight embrace.

"Hey, sweetheart."

"Where'd you run off to?" Richie asked.

"I just had some errands to run. Nothing important." She took off her coat and sat next to him at the table. "Did you guys manage without me?"

"Hell yeah we did." Carmy told her. "We just knocked two thousand off of our debt."

"Good. That's a start."

"Yo, yo!" Marcus called out, coming out of the kitchen with a tray of sliced cake. Sophia slowly followed behind him with a tray of vanilla ice cream. "Got some family dessert!"

"We all get cake 'cause we're best friends!" Neil insisted as he reached for a serving.

"Hey, babe." Angie rubbed her daughter's cheek. "You have fun with your uncles?"

"Mhm." The girl lazily nodded.

"You're really worn out. You must've played a lot, huh?"

"Yep." Richie chuckled and placed a hand on the girl's head, ruffling her curls. "She sure played hard."

"Boss lady." Marcus placed a slice of chocolate cake in front of Angie. "Try it?"

She picked up the fork and took a bite, looking up at him. "Marcus, this is amazing."

"Thank you, chef." He grinned.

"Thank you, chef."

[daiki1k]

“I’m so sorry that you have to have a body.”

TW: very very very much implied S/a, drug use, Daiki gets drugged??, Daiki in general. yall wanted the angst.

<scene one: 戯け者>

heart carefully beats against ribcage , blood feels painfully cold within a warm body. ears pick up on the sound of a crowd. talking, music, glasses being set on tables, a heart pounding against a chest that suddenly felt too thin.

calm. make a mess and you’re sure to be punished.

was this not punishment enough?

“Daiki.” a cold and robotic voice calls out from behind the woman, startling her. still, not enough for her to show it.

“Guardian.” her own voice is steady, devoid of any emotion. there was no need to put up an act, not infront of EXO.

two of six ‘hands’ find themselves on the humans shoulders, head leaning down to whisper into her ear.

“give them a good show.” that’s all that needed to be said, such a simple sentence to have Daiki sweating bullets.

there’s silence as the alien walks off, leaving the pet behind. hands ball into fists, careful not to tear into palms with grown out nails despite the urge - the need to do so. for she knew what was to come, to give a good show is to present herself to the highest payers.

it was humorous in a way. it had been years since she first began preforming. in her head, when she had sliced through thick hair it would defile her - make her appear less attractive and unworthy of the ‘grace’ being bestowed upon her by the superior race. those damned aliens. no. no no no.

cutting her hair was the worst mistake, that blade should’ve been used to cut through artery’s in the neck. that would be infinitely more merciful than what was to come after that. infinitely more merciful than was was to come during her show.

inhaling sharply, eyes remain half lidded as a smile finds itself on pale lips. curtains are drawn and lights are turned to her direction.

<scene two: 星>

Daiki observed the crowd of wealthy aliens, winking to the individual who sat front row right where she would be singing. anything to get them to pay attention.

cheers, applaud, fulfillment.

once again, a job completed. the easy part, at least.

this was a premium show.

the performer descends into the crowd, it was time to converse, to entertain further.

somehow, somewhere, a pill is slipped into the disgusting drink in her hand. sips are taken, substance quickly working itself into an empty system.

I feel sick. it’s too bright. it’s too much.

hazy eyes glance past the creature before her, the exit was across the room. but she couldn’t move, limbs refused to work and even her mind began to turn against her.

noo. . . pleassse. . . Tina. . please. your handss. . Tina. . .

drug induced hallucinations begin to warp her reality, hands clenching into fists again as eyes roll up. heart speeds and slows, painfully, Daiki loses control of her own body. but she feels it.

she feels the hands, the mouths, the unwanted attention.

was this her punishment? for existing? for enjoying the single thing she had in this life?

in these situations, Daiki had always cursed the fact she was fully conscious. but being under the influence while knowing (or, in reality, not knowing) what’s being done to her body was much worse. all sense of control is lost as mind is plagued with horrific illusions. for once, DAIKI KONDO had not a single thing under her control. not the aliens, not the entire base of technology that ran ALIEN STAGE.

and then black.

<scene three: 強い人>

eyes flicker open, sitting up too fast causes the room to spin uncomfortably. it was empty. quiet curses escape chapped lips, standing up despite weakened body calling out to collapse.

she couldn’t. she had to get back, back to her. back to her Tina. to have her hands over the tainted flesh, to purify disgusting skin. Daiki longed for her savior, her reason for living. she needed Tina to right the wrong of recent events.

but first, she needed to return to Guardian EXO. to report a job ‘well done’.

how she wanted to tear its head off, stab those stupid eyes, bite into and rip apart the bastard creature that kept her enslaved. but, even now, as she stands before it. nothing happens, normal conversation plays out before she’s permitted to return to her personal room. personal room shared with her beloved.

immediately something is off to Tina.

a smile doesn’t greet her, only dried tears and bloodshot eyes. hands fall to her side, sheet of music fluttering to the floor.

for Daiki, if Tina didn’t know about her true performances, she wouldn’t care. she wouldn’t care what would happen to her. but Tina did see, she witnesses the aftermath and she frowns.

Daiki won’t let anyone or anything make Tina frown. not without punishment.

so she will get her revenge. she will get them both out of this cage, out to live their best lives. to be together without any sorrow. to paradise.

but first. . . she needed to get through her first round. who was her opponent again..? Tallis, was it? yes, the harp player. she wouldn’t allow herself to lose to him, not to anyone.

for Tina’s sake.

Tallis : @lookatmysillies