#the more i write richie the more i believe it can be a thing

[trashm0uth]

ok so .... bisexual richie ..... ?

[forwhomthewordsflow]

Puppy Love

modern!eddie munson x fem!reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, a bit suggestive at some parts, language, more fluff

author’s note: this was totally meant to be a small lil blurb but then i ended up getting sucked into it and well…it ended up being a tiny bit longer than i thought.  also, there’s some legal jargon in here that i totally might’ve misused, don’t hate me! i’m not a lawyer i swear! anywho, i’m still pretty new to the whole writing thing so please go easy on me because i’m a crybaby

p.s. i stopped writing it in order to keep the word count from going through the roof, but if you guys would like a part two picking up right where this leaves off then i’m soooo into that, i really love these two!

word count: 5.3k

Let it be known, Eddie Waylon Munson was not a dog person.  This doesn’t mean that Eddie is a cat person either really, he’d actually be more inclined to categorize himself as a fish person, really.  Eddie can hardly take care of himself, who in the hell would think he could take care of another living being?

Steve fucking Harrington.  That’s who.

Under any other circumstances, Eddie would’ve turned him down in a heartbeat when he asked him to watch his Golden Retriever, Captain, for a week while he’s on vacation with his parents. 

“Dude, c’mon.  You owe me one.”

Eddie scoffed.  “Since when do I owe you one?”

“I–There must be something I’ve done for you…” Steve sighs ,”Haven’t I been letting you swim in my pool free of charge?”

“Yeah, me and every single other member of our party.”  Eddie rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, determined to stick to his answer of a hard no.

“Fine,” Steve huffs.  “What if I gave you three hundred bucks for it?”

At this new piece of information, Eddie perked up.  

“Well, well, well Harrington.  Why didn’t you just lead with that?”  The two boys shook hands, and that was that.

Eddie wishes he could’ve said no, but he unfortunately really needed the extra cash.  The weed business had been slow due to the fact that his usual richie-rich-asshole customers are all off “summering” with their rich families wherever it is that the rich families go to do that shit.  

Eddie figured that he could handle this.  Steve assured him that Captain is well trained thanks to the expensive trainers that his parents hired, plus Eddie would get to stay at Hotel de Harrington while he watched the dog.  Eddie will mind his business, Captain will do his own thing, and Eddie would be $300 richer at the end of it all.  Sweet digs and three hundred bucks is just something Eddie doesn’t have the heart to pass up these days.  

–

Eddie always manages to forget just how gi-fucking-normous the Harrington’s mansion house is.  As Steve leads him through the foyer and into the numerous hallways, Eddie figures he must look like he’s stepping into a house for the first time.  His jaw drops a little at the seemingly priceless artwork that hangs from the walls, the crystal vases lined up on shelves, and the expensive looking furniture placed meticulously all around the house.  He hopes to hell that he doesn’t find some way to fuck something up while he’s shacking up here.  

“I can’t believe you live in this art museum, Harrington.”

Steve scoffs.  “Yeah, it’s all nice and fancy until you think about the fact that all the dumb shit decorating this place could probably feed a small village.”

Eddie stifles a laugh, then hears an excited bark from the other room.

“Okay, time to meet the man himself.  Just warning you, he’s a hugger.”  Steve winks at Eddie and jogs to unlock the door to the backyard.  As soon as the glass door slides open, Eddie sees a blur of blonde fur coming towards him, and then all he can see is the ceiling.

Eddie quickly learns that this is because Captain has knocked him right on his ass.

Captain squirms on top of Eddie, trying his hardest to lick him all over his face and neck while Steve is bent over cackling at the whole ordeal. 

“Okay, okay buddy.  Thanks so much,” Eddie says unenthusiastically while glaring at Steve.  He gently shoves Captain off of him and stands back up, only to look down and realize that his all black outfit is now covered in little golden dog hairs.  This only causes Steve to laugh harder.

Steve straightens back up after being hunched over and sighs, “I warned you man,” then walks past Eddie and into the laundry room, clapping him on the shoulder as he goes.

Captain trots happily behind the boys as Steve shows Eddie where Captain’s food and water bowls are, how much to feed him and when, and where his leash and harness are.  Steve assures him that he doesn’t have to take Captain on a walk or anything if he doesn’t feel like it (he so does not), but he does have a grooming appointment scheduled on the day the Harrington’s set off on their vacation.

Eddie huffs at this revelation.

“I know man, I’m sorry.  My mom had apparently scheduled it months ago and forgot it was on the day we were leaving.  But it’s really easy I swear, you just drop him off at noon, and then pick him back up at three.  It’s already paid for and everything.”  Steve looks at Eddie apologetically, and Eddie figures it won’t be that bad.

–

Eddie was wrong.  He’s only been watching the dog for an hour and already he knows he’s not cut out for this shit.  Captain is stuck to Eddie like fucking velcro.  Who knew dogs could be so needy?  Eddie goes to sit on the couch?  Captain needs to sit right next to him.  Eddie needs to go to the kitchen to grab a drink?  Captain is practically stepping on his heels as he trails behind him.  Eddie has been pretty lenient so far, it’s only a week right?  But he’d had enough when Captain was demanding to follow him into the bathroom, pawing at the door and whining when Eddie wouldn’t let him in.  

Thank god for that goddamn grooming appointment.

Despite being only a couple hours into this gig, Eddie needed some alone time.  

Captain seemed just as excited to get out of the house when Eddie fought to put his harness on him.  He never thought he’d ever be spending a full ten minutes practically wrestling with a 70 pound dog, but Captain just wouldn’t sit still.  After all was said and done, Captain sat and waited next to the front door calmly, while Eddie emerged sweaty and breathing heavily.

–

The grooming salon ended up being only ten minutes away from Steve’s house, which Eddie was thankful for since Captain decided to sit shotgun and stare at Eddie the entire way over.  On the outside, the place looked fancy.  Eddie scoffed a bit at the Grecian columns bracketing the entrance, and the name of the salon printed in gold swoopy letters across the large window panes in the front.  He couldn’t believe people were willing to shell out enough cash to bring their dogs to a place like this all for a haircut.  Eddie looks over at Captain, who is of course staring at him…still, and sighs.

“Here goes nothing I guess.”

Eddie wrangles Captain out of his van and into the salon, hoping to God that these people wouldn’t be able to smell the poor on him.  

What actually occurred was quite the opposite.

Upon opening the glass doors, Eddie was hit with a whoosh of cool air and a small bell chimed to let the employees know that someone had walked in.  Captain was apparently very excited by the gust of air, and decided to jump in circles around and through Eddie’s legs.  While Eddie was caught up in detangling himself so he doesn’t fall flat on his face, he hadn’t noticed you walking up to them.  

“Hi there, need some help?” 

Eddie looked up and could’ve sworn he heard a choir of angels singing.

You stood there smiling at him, the prettiest girl Eddie had ever seen in his 24 years of life on Earth.  He doesn’t think he’d ever had someone smile at him like that before, but he knows he could definitely get used to it. 

While you were waiting for Eddie to respond, you noticed that his dog’s leash was still quite tangled around his legs.  Deciding to take things into your own hands, you take a few steps back and kneel down to the ground to call the dog to you.  He comes bounding up to you, causing his leash to slide smoothly out from under Eddie’s legs, rendering him untangled at last.

Eddie blinks, suddenly he’s untangled and Captain is jumping up onto you, ever the hugger.  

He finally gets his head out of his ass and jogs up to you, grabbing Captain’s leash and yanking him off of you.

“Bad boy, Captain.  We’re supposed to ask for consent before hugging pretty girls.”

Eddie is elated when he spots a blush crawling up your cheeks.  You stand and brush yourself off.

“It’s really okay.  Captain has my consent to hug me any time he wants!”  Your voice had risen to a puppy-talk octave, Eddie never imagined he’d find that so adorable.  You lean down again to scratch Captain behind the ears, and the dog looks up at you with stars in his eyes.  Eddie, having caught a whiff of your perfume as you bent down, is sporting the same look.

You straighten up with a happy sigh and look up at Eddie with a grin. 

“Well then, now that we’re all introduced, how can I help you?”

Eddie all at once forgets why he’s here, caught up in your beautiful gaze.  He feels like he should shield his eyes from yours, lest he burst into flames from taking in your beauty. 

“I’m—uh...I’m grooming.   N-no, that’s not right, sorry.”  You giggle quietly while he tries to finish his sentence.

Eddie laughs at his own stupidity.  

“Sorry.  He’s getting groomed, he should have an appointment under Harrington I think?”

“Sure, let me check on that.” You turn away from him to walk back towards the front desk, and boy is it a treat for Eddie.  You’re wearing a cute company t-shirt, white sneakers, and these perfect fucking denim jeans that cause Eddie’s to get a little tighter.  They must’ve been tailor-made for you with the way they’re hugging your thighs, your hips, your ass–

“Alright, I’m seeing that Captain is just here for his routine trim, yes?”  You look from your computer screen up at Eddie to find him already staring at you with his mouth slightly open.  The look on his face makes you giggle a bit, and this seems to snap him out of his daze.

“Uh, yes.  That sounds right.”  Eddie shakes his head a bit to rid himself of all the impure thoughts swirling around in there.  “I’m just bringing him in for a friend, so whatever’s on there should be right.”

You pretend to type some more as you try and find the will to push down the blush warming your cheeks.  You already clocked that he was gorgeous when he stumbled through the front doors, but how in the hell does he keep getting better?  You noticed the bulge of his bicep when he yanked Captain off of you, the warm chestnut color of his eyes, and now his super-sexy-deep voice?  Being turned on at work was not on your agenda today…

After a few seconds of nonsense typing and very deep breaths, you look back up at Eddie to find him smiling at you.

“That’s really sweet of you, to help out your friend.”

Eddie puffs out his chest (as though he hasn’t been mentally complaining about watching Steve’s dog for multiple hours).  

“Yeah, I do what I can to help.” Eddie shrugs his shoulders in a way he hopes comes across as ’Yeah baby, I’m just a helpful guy.  Super nice, super sweet, definitely boyfriend material..��

You grin and finish getting Captain all checked in.  

“Alrighty!  Captain’s all good to go.  I can get him taken back and then we’ll see you in three hours.”  

Your sweet smile has Eddie captivated until he realizes you’re holding your hand out for Captain’s leash.  Eddie reluctantly hands it over, because now he has to wait a whole three hours to see you again.  You take the leash, wave ‘bye’ to Eddie, and walk through the door that leads to the rest of the salon.  Eddie lets out a deep sigh.

Goddamnit.

—

Three hours turned out to feel more like three days when it meant waiting to see your face again.  Eddie arrived fifteen minutes early to the salon (a first) and waited anxiously for Captain’s scheduled pickup time to roll around.  Eddie strutted into the salon not a second too late before screeching to a halt.

In your place, stood a much older, much rounder lady.  Eddie deflated a little, cursing himself for not finding out if you’d even be here at this time.  He huffs out a breath, and begins walking up to the front desk. 

Then, a thought pops into his head.

Maybe, if he’s nice enough, he can ask the older woman about you.  Then at least he’d have your name and maybe even when you were working next!

Eddie decides it’s time to amp up the ol’ Munson Charm.

His tentative walk turns into a swagger-filled stroll as he reaches the front desk.  Eddie leans on an elbow and smiles a devilish smile down at the woman.  She looks up at him with wide eyes as he dings the silver bell that sits on the desk, winking at her while he does it.

“H-How can I help you sir?”

“Oh sweetheart, please…call me Eddie.”  He goes on after she spends a moment too long gazing up at him, “And who might you be?”

She gulps and straightens her horned glasses.  “B-Betty.  Betty Brown.”

“Hello, Betty Brown,” Eddie can tell his charming smile is having an effect on her, and he’d be lying if it wasn’t boosting his ego a tiny bit.  “I’m here to pick up my dog, Captain.  Brought him by a few hours ago to get his haircut…you know how he likes to impress the ladies.”

Betty nods and takes a deep breath before turning to the computer to try and hide her smile. 

“Okay, Mr. Eddie.  I checked him out with the card on file, he should be up here shortly.” 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Eddie waits a moment, before launching into his plan.  “I was actually hoping you could help me with a little something else.” 

Betty looks back up at him, blushing when they make eye contact.

“See, when I was in here earlier, there was a really nice girl helping me out.  But, silly me, I completely forgot to ask what her name was.”

To Eddie’s delight, Betty’s face lights up in recognition.  She says your name with so much glee that it’s obvious to him how loved you must be around here.

“Yes, she got off an hour ago.  She usually works the morning shifts, except on Fridays because those are her days off.”

Eddie quickly learned that underneath Betty’s bashful smile was a woman who loved to talk, and he couldn’t be happier for it.  Eddie quickly learned how long you’ve worked here, that you don’t have any pets of your own, and that last Christmas you brought the most delicious homemade cookies for the entire staff.  He also learned that you’ll be working again for the next two mornings.  

Eddie left with Captain and a smile on his face, but not before pressing a kiss to sweet, sweet Betty’s hand.  Thanks to her, Eddie’s confidence is restored and he actually thinks he might have a shot with you.  All he has to do now is figure out what his reasons will be for coming back to the salon two days in a row.  

–

He spent all evening pacing around the Harrington’s house trying to come up with excuses to come see you.  All of the ones he’d thought of so far made him look like even more of a jackass than he did today.  

I thought I might’ve dropped my wallet somewhere around here.  A gorgeous girl isn’t going to want to go out with a guy who drops his shit everywhere.  Pass.

I think Captain needs a little more of a haircut, maybe just another half inch off?  First of all, Eddie doesn’t know shit about haircuts.  He’s been doing his own with kitchen scissors in his bathroom mirror for over a decade.  Second, he would never risk potentially offending you and your work as a dog groomer on the off chance that you’re the one who cut Captain’s hair.  And lastly, for a dog, he’s got to admit that Captain looks pretty damn good after his appointment.  Who knew a dog could look so regal and majestic?  Anyways, PASS.

It was only after Eddie had plopped down on the leather couch with a huff of defeat that he heard the first few plinks of raindrops hitting the windows.  Eddie went to his phone to check the forecast for the rest of the night, and as luck would have it, there was a 100% chance of thunderstorms until tomorrow morning.  As all the pieces of his new plan began stitching themselves together, Eddie finally allowed himself to relax.

–

Eddie used to hate his “backyard,” if you could even call it that.  Behind the trailer was a medium sized patch of dirt, with some sorry-looking green plant-things trying their best to survive scattered about.  The only times Eddie would really look forward to going outside to play as a kid, much to Wayne’s dismay, was when it rained.  Because when it rained, the once dry and grainy surface turned into slippery, messy mud.  Eddie used to love sliding around and making mud pies and all of that stuff, and right now it seems like Captain is having just as much fun, if not more, than Eddie used to.  

The yard was fenced in, so Eddie wasn’t too worried about Captain running away despite Steve’s promises that he’s ‘leash-trained’.  Eddie planned to tell you otherwise though.

‘He just somehow managed to get away from me.  Yeah, I had to chase him all through the mud and dirt this morning.  But I caught him because I’m like, really fast and strong and stuff.’

He does feel a little guilty about lying to you.  But he figures that if it’s something the two of you can laugh over at your wedding someday, then it’s well worth the little white lies.

Eddie’s brought back from his reverie of you in a long, white dress by Captain dropping the mud-soaked tennis ball at his feet…again.

He couldn’t believe how much energy this dog had.  They’d already been out here for twenty minutes and Captain just kept going and going.  Eddie did have to admit, it was sort of fun watching him play.  He even found himself laughing out loud when Captain would get the ball stuck in a puddle of mud and not hesitate to dunk his entire head in to retrieve it.  There was even one point where Captain got so excited and amped up that he just zoomed around in circles over and over again. 

Maybe dogs aren’t so bad after all.

After another ten minutes of chasing around the now mud-covered tennis ball, Captain decides he’s done playing and sits down at Eddie’s feet.  Eddie can’t help but notice that he’s panting pretty hard.  “You must be thirsty, huh?”

Eddie runs inside the trailer to grab a tupperware bowl and fills it with cold water from the tap.  He hopes to god that Captain hasn’t run away already, he’s decided to really put Steve’s whole “leash training” thing to the test.  But sure enough, when Eddie shoves his front door open there he is, sitting nicely at the foot of the trailer’s steps.  Eddie pats his head, then promptly wipes the flaky, dried mud off onto his jeans.  “Good boy.” 

After Captain is done drinking water, Eddie looks him over to ensure that he is completely and totally covered head-to-toe in mud.  Letting out a satisfied sigh, he decides that it’s time for the next stage of his plan to take action.  

He loads Captain into the back of his van (Eddie makes sure to drive especially slow, and Captain pretty much lays down the whole time) and he sets off towards the salon.  

–

Eddie is practically vibrating with anticipation as he puts his van into park.  He’s ecstatic when he sees your beautiful face smiling after two customers as they exit the salon.  Eddie turns around in his seat to see Captain.

“Okay, buddy.  It’s showtime.  I need you to bring your A-game and be a real good wingman for me in there.  Got it?”

Captain tilts his head at Eddie, as though he didn’t understand a thing he said, but then straightens up and lets out a firm bark.  A laugh bursts out of Eddie as he turns the van off and goes to get Captain from the back.  Before rounding the side of his van, and while he’c completely out of your sight, he does a quick smell test on his pits and breath, and then double checks his hair and teeth in the reflection of his rear windows.  After deeming himself presentable, he takes a big deep breath.

“Don’t be stupid, Munson.  Think charming thoughts,” he says under his breath as he starts towards the front door.  

–

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t sticking around fifteen minutes after your shift was over yesterday in the hopes that Eddie would decide to come back early to pick up Captain.  It’s rare that a guy comes into the salon who looks to be around your age and single, but it’s much rarer that they’re as good-looking as Eddie is.  You spent the entire drive home and the rest of the night fantasizing about his voice, his big hands, his laugh.  You wondered what he did while he waited for Captain’s appointment to be done, what his favorite movie was, his favorite food…But most of all, you wondered if you were making up this mutual attraction in your head?  The nervous stuttering and blushing could just be from nervousness, but he was definitely staring at you a few times.  You also wonder whether or not you had actually caught him staring at your ass…but maybe it’s best not to get ahead of yourself.  Maybe he has a girlfriend.  Maybe he doesn’t even see you that way?  Maybe you should get a grip because you’re basing all of this delusion fantasy off of a ten minute conversation you had with the guy.  Leave it to you to construct a made-up scenario in your head after a short interaction with a new crush.

Be that as it may…you still made sure to carve out an extra half hour to get ready for your shift today.  You blow-dried your hair using your fancy products, spent quite a bit of time on your makeup, and spritzed some perfume on before you left.  You even made sure to wear the same jeans as you did the day before, just in case he was looking. 

The first half of your shift was spent hunched over the front desk, it was an extremely slow day so far.  You found yourself perking up a bit whenever a dark haired individual would walk by the front of the salon, only to droop back down again at the realization that it wasn’t who you wished it was.  With all the rain that came down in Hawkins last night, you figured more people would be making last minute appointments to have their dogs bathed, you’d hoped that today would be busy enough to keep your mind from wandering to a certain pair of warm, brown eyes.  But as your shift crawled towards the halfway point, suddenly things started looking up.

As excited as you were to spot a familiar gorgeous man walking into the salon again, you couldn’t conceal the look of shock on your face once your eyes landed on his mud-covered companion.

“Oh–oh my god!”  Eddie couldn’t quite read your expression, but he was relieved to hear a laugh bubble out of you after your exclamation.  He stood there sheepishly for a moment before he remembered his plan: Be. Charming.

You walk out from behind the desk with a hand covering your mouth, not quite believing what you were seeing.  There stood Captain, proudly smiling and panting, covered head to paw in mud.  Another laugh bubbled out of you, and you were pleased to find Eddie laughing with you.  

Goddamnit, that’s a sexy laugh he’s got.

“What…what happened to you?” You say to Captain, bending down to gently pat his head. 

“This absolute miscreant here got out of the house this morning and found himself a nice, muddy yard to roll around in.”  Eddie looked at you with a grin that made your knees weak.

He looked you up and down while you straightened back up.  Was there a way for someone to get a thousand times more beautiful overnight?

A blush rose to your cheeks as you caught him checking you out.  That settles it, he’s definitely flirting with you.  If he can be so forward about it, maybe you can too.

You look up at Eddie through your lashes, making sure to flutter them a couple times for good measure.

“Aw.  And here I was thinking you’d gotten him all dirty just so you could come and see me again.”

Eddie stills.  

Fuck, he can’t believe how hot you are. 

 Fuck, was his plan really that shitty?  Did you just call him out?  

Eddie’s panicking is subdued by your quiet giggle.  Thank god, you were kidding.

“It’s a good thing you managed to catch him, he looks like the type to go on an adventure in the woods.”  Eddie startles, quickly realizing he’d been full-on staring at you while conducting his mental freak-out.

“Oh, yeah.  I’m–like….fast…” Eddie can feel himself getting lost in your eyes as you stare up at him.  His words trail off into oblivion, nothing else exists other than your pretty smile, the little crinkles next to your eyes, your lips…

Holy shit, is Eddie staring at your lips right now?  Is he going to kiss you?  God, you hope he does, you’ve been fantasizing about his lips for hours now.  You can’t let him kiss you right here in the lobby…can you?

Eddie shakes his head a little, breaking himself from the trance you put him under.  

“Ahem, yeah,” Eddie loudly cleared his throat ,”It was no big deal, really.  He’s a good dog, came right back after he realized he was in the wrong.”  Eddie looked down at Captain, only to find him looking right back up at him, obviously judging him for his outright lies.  Eddie looks up at you, shrugging and shaking his head disapprovingly.  He lets out a big, over dramatic sigh ,”I just don’t know what I’m gonna do with this one.”

“Well it’s obviously not his fault,” you reply, “Look at that face!  That face could never do anything wrong.  I should know, I’m actually his lawyer.”  Eddie spots your poorly concealed smirk and decides to jump head first into this bit with you, excited to see if you can keep up.

“Oh really?”  He crosses his arms and takes a tiny step towards you.  This causes his t-shirt to pull taught around his arms, accentuating his biceps.  Your mouth waters a bit.

“Yes, really.  My client is as innocent as they come.”  You place your hands on your hips and look up at him with a level of sass Eddie had no idea you were capable of.  He decides that he loves it. 

“Huh, that’s interesting.  I totally object.” 

“Are you implying that he acted with intent?  Are you attempting to slander my client?” You place your hand on your chest in a “pearl-clutching” type of way, Eddie stifles a laugh.

“I am indeed.  He knew exactly what he was doing when he ran out that door, the evidence is all over his fur,” Eddie replies.

“My client was just following his nose, any mess that ensued was purely circumstantial.  He is innocent of any and all wrongdoing.”  Eddie feels like he’s got stars in his eyes, he can already picture you fitting in so perfectly into a DnD campaign.  You take his pause as a sign to bring your argument home.

“This is a clear case of prosecutorial overreach.  My client was acting in the best interest of the household, ensuring that the yard was thoroughly inspected for potential threats, pests, intruders, or otherwise.  Any mud on his fur is merely a badge of his dedication to home security.”  You cross your arms, clearly having won this fake-case.  

Eddie takes a step back and starts a slow clap.  You take a tiny bow and burst into a fit of giggles.

“I’m impressed, sweetheart.” You hope Eddie doesn’t see how affected you are by that nickname.  “Where the hell did all the legal jargon come from?”

“I used to watch a lot of Law and Order.”  You look down, suddenly shy with a sparkly feeling in your chest.  You really hope you didn’t come across as super weird.  It’s been a while since you’ve been able to have banter like that with someone else.  Hawkins isn’t a very diverse place, and you’ve found that the majority of the people living here tend to be pretty cookie-cutter conservative.  It feels great to let loose a little with someone you’re interested in, you just hope you’ll get more opportunities to do it.

Eddie, on the other hand, can’t stop looking at you.  Is this what falling in love feels like?  The girls in this town all seem to have made their own assumptions and come to their own conclusions about Eddie: he’s a devil worshiper, a satanist, a hookup to check off their bucket list and then never speak to again.  But not you, obviously.  You don’t look at him with the same disgust in your eyes as everyone else in this town does.  Your eyes are full of a kindness and warmth that Eddie could see himself getting used to.

“So, uh,” Eddie rambles, “What’s the verdict for Mr. Captain?”  Captain perks up at the sound of his name, you giggle at the tilt of his head.

“Hm,” You tap your finger to your chin and look off into the distance, “I think a nice, relaxing bath would do.  Maybe a couple treats, too, for being such a good boy.”  You squat down to Captain’s height to scratch him behind the ears, and Eddie can’t help but cringe a little at the flakes of dried mud that drift down off of Captain’s head and onto the floor.

You grab Captain’s leash from Eddie as you stand back up, walking him over to the desk to get him checked in at the computer.  He’s delighted to discover that you’re wearing the same pair of jeans as you were yesterday, and he mentally kicks himself for sneaking another peek at the way your hips sway as you walk.  Eddie deflates a little at the realization that this might be the end of this interaction.  He never wants to stop talking to you.  

“I’m guessing the card on file is what we’ll be using today?”  You ask sweetly, looking up at Eddie.

“Uh, yeah.  Yeah that’s just fine, thank you.” 

Holding eye contact with Eddie, you murmur “,You’re very welcome,” with a smile.

Oh, Eddie is so totally fucked.

Eddie watches as you walk Captain to the hallway door and hand his leash off to a younger girl.  You happily trot back up to the front desk and lean on it with your smiling face resting in your hands.

“Oh, you– you’re not giving him his bath?” Eddie stammers out.

“Nope.” You reply, popping the ‘p.’ “I’m stuck on front desk duty today.”  

Eddie sighs, relieved that your conversation might not be over.  He puts his elbows on the counter and leans towards you a bit. “Well, it can’t be all that bad.”

Your smile widens and you tilt your head, “I think it’s starting to get better.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[carmenized-onions]

Something to Do. | Catering

logline; Itinerary for your trip to New York? Just try not to fucking cry.

[!!!] series history, this is the twelfth; gonna start season three after I post this. Wonder how bad it's gonna throw off the rest of my plot line. Ideally not at all. We'll see.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. I really like this playlist for all chapters, but for a wedding where music is blasting, it feels particularly fitting.

portion; 13.3k how does this keep happening.

possible allergies; Terrible self-image, everything feels bad, very real conversations abt ,,, self-death and addiction.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (gets referred to as a woman and other feminine honourifics but no pronouns, i believe)

i made you all so mad last chapter. Let's see if i can make it up to you, babydoll (probably wont)

You hate to admit it, but you were kind of relieved when you found out Carmen wasn’t coming on the plane. You’re in a bit of a state of fight or flight; well, more accurately, currently leaning towards the flight side— Pun intended.

He’s coming to the wedding. You know he is. For one, he’s getting thirty grand for this, he has to. For two, his location is still on for you— Whether he forgot to turn it off or just didn’t care, you’re not sure. But he hates you, so there’s no way it was intentional, you’re certain about that much.

You know you shouldn’t be looking at it, but you have. You’ve been looking all week. Checking your Find my Friends like a doting mother. He goes to work far too early, he stays far after close, he goes home. Rinse and repeat.

You check on him one last time before boarding the plane. He’s opted to drive, with Richie. Something about ‘wanting to bring their personal equipment’, Richie texted you. They’re halfway through Ohio. You’re sure that road trip is definitely going spectacular after their side of the explosion.

Richie texted the day after that fucking fiasco, asking if you’d want updates on how it’s going at The Bear. How it’s going with Carmen. You said you wanted to know if he wanted to tell. He opted not to tell.

You hate to admit, you were kind of relieved, to not know. To just look at Carmen’s little icon go from Point A to B. Instead of Carmen Reports, you and Richie text about much lighter things. Normal things. Eva drew a funny picture of you kinda things. It’s nice. You know you’re probably being childish, but it feels so much fucking better to ignore the Bear in the room. You don’t know how to feel about anything, and frankly you don’t want to try to figure it out.

You suck, Carmen sucks, what more is there to know? Process it? Fuck that.

Carmen hasn’t texted you; you haven’t texted him, the entire week. Radio silence. You stopped playing Connections. Didn’t see a point. Not like they even have a streak function anyways— You’d die before you let that Wordle streak break, though. That was your thing. Carmen doesn’t get to take your things, too.

You didn’t get a text from the Exec, either. So that’s… Something? Or, rather, explicitly, that’s nothing. Does that mean Carmen gives a shit? Not necessarily. Ugh. Your whole system was so shocked after that fucking fight that you didn’t really have time to take in the fact that that jag was into you? Vomit inducing. You’ve got to rethink your life choices, if they lead you to him. 

But also, you know if Carmen and you were okay right now, you probably would’ve given him your number. You would’ve catfished him for weeks, laughing over your phone with Carmen and Syd as this idiot falls into your trap. You miss Carmen. You also don’t miss Carmen. You want to see him desperately and also never fucking look at him again.

Carmen’s going to be in the kitchen; you’re going to be out in the banquet hall, on bar, this whole wedding. The likelihood either of you have to actually interact this weekend is quite low. The likelihood either of you have to confront what you’re supposed to do with yourselves now is quite low. You hate to admit it, you’re fucking relieved.

Sydney sleeps on your shoulder, for most of the plane ride. You sleep against her head. Shout out Marcus, for switching seats. He’s behind you, with Tina. He wakes both of you up about an hour in, shaking your seats— Because the dessert cart came out and he didn’t want either of you to miss it. The mini cheesecakes are better than expected, to be fair, so he’s forgiven.

This is going to be the stupidest weekend of your life. You’ll take that, over worst, at least.

“Be honest, would you tip me extra well?”

You give a twirl in your probably too fancy semi-cultural outfit. Your family shows up for weddings, if Vinnie and Mira didn’t want their bartender to go hard, they should’ve put that in their notes. It actually would have been nice to get sent notes, though… What is the theme for this wedding other than ‘Italian’ and ‘New York’…? Glitter eyeshadow is probably fine, right? Yeah it’s fine. Not like you could get that shit off now, anyways.

“If you were my bartender, I would ask ‘what are we?’” Answers Syd, watching you from the bathroom as she attempts to put her hair up. Definitely struggling in silence.

Sharing a hotel room was the best idea you ever had. It would be a nightmare to get ready alone in silence, right now. It’s nice to talk and have something to do. If you didn’t, you’d absolutely be ruminating about Carmen, debating whether or not to check on his room, that’s just down the hall, you could see if he needed help with getting ready and also see if he’s as tired as you think he is and— Plus, the amount you saved on splitting a one bed? Christ. Economy is in shambles. So is your brain.

“You would not be brave enough to ask your bartender ‘what are we?’”

“For you, I would.”

“Are we about to kiss, bro?” You duck into the bathroom, getting way too close to the side of Syd’s face. She laughs, pushing you away with the palm of her hand, you scoff, “Wooowwww—”

You clutch your heart, mortally wounded. Retching, truly. Now this is heartbreak in its rawest form. “—Reject me, why don’t you?”

“I’m playing the role of timid—” “I’m sick of this friends to lovers plot line!” “It adds! It adds!”

“Shut up— And tilt your head back, dumbass, what are you doing?” You stand behind her, taking her braids into your hands as she struggles to bundle them all herself.

“I do this all the time by myself, y’know.” So Syd says, but she lets you take her braids regardless.

“Yeah, but I’m here.” You stretch the hairband on your fingers. “Messy bun?”

“You think?”

“I think primal is too clean.”

“No, I was gonna do the one where it does like— Like the infinity in the front?”

“Who’s mom are you tryna fuckin’ look like?”

She kisses her teeth, attempting to reach a hand behind her head to smack you. You dodge and somehow manage to make it easier to smack you. “I’m literally only gonna get to come out after everyone’s left, I dunno why we’re making effort here—”

“High messy bun?” “High messy bun.”

Oh, the days of doing each other’s hair. You’re glad it’s back. You’re glad you get to become, together, again. It used to be bobbles, friendship bracelets, and glitter tattoos—but now it’s tying up each other’s hair, helping with the curling iron, clasping the gold chains on your neck, zipping up the back of your outfit, pinning the collar pins on her uniform, fixing makeup, asking each other to compare perfumes before going through with the final decision, mocking each other’s purchases.

“Wait, what mini deodorant did you get at customs?”

“Oh, one of those Native ones— I think it’s peach—?”

“Those cost like five fucking dollars, Ink. For like two swipes.”

“Excuse me for wanting to smell good, fuckin’ ‘wolfthorn’—”

“I work in a restaurant. I need Old Spice strength, okay—!”

“Oh, pbbbttt— Syd.”

“Pbb—Fuck, how do you do that?”

There’s a knock at the door, interrupting your squabble. “Are you decent?!”

Sydney groans, “No!”

“Yes, Rich, we’re decent, doors open.”

Richie comes in, unceremoniously. A touch awkward. He’s so rarely been in a room with women getting ready. It’s simultaneously exactly what he expected, and not at all what he expected. “Chip, can you put these fuckin’ things on f’me?”

Cufflinks. He presents the box to you. They’re just plain and silver, boring. Save that in your rolodex of gifts to get this Christmas. “You’re fuckin’ forty and you don’t know how to put on some cufflinks—?”

You’re nagging, but you’re already putting them on him, he holds his wrist out for you. “Nah, I was too busy runnin’ shit to learn.”

“Runnin’ your mouth, more like.”

“Yeah, yeah.” It’s a quiet moment, a tender moment, of adjusting his sleeves. Sydney’s scrambling to clean up the room around you two in the background. It’s hard to turn off the autopilot of cleaning one’s station, no matter where she goes.

You purse your lips. You shouldn’t ask and you shouldn’t care, but you do. You half-whisper, to Richie. “How was the drive?” He knows what you’re asking.

“Terrible start. Surprisingly okay middle. He went straight to the banquet hall once we got here.” He swallows, treading carefully, a thing Richie never does. “Do you wanna know the dirty details?”

Oh good, you wouldn’t be able to check on his room even if you wanted to. You want to. Need to? Stop thinking. Carmen sucks and you suck. 

“Not particularly.” You take one final look at his sleeves, happy with your handiwork, letting his wrists go. “You feel settled, though? Or jury’s still out?”

Richie shrugs, tilting his head back and forth. “Grovelled decent enough, by time we hit Penn. But I’m waitin’ on my informer.”

You cringe, knowing what he means. You also know he’d smack you if you said he doesn’t need your say in order to forgive Carmen. “It’s gonna be a minute, until your informer has an answer.”

“I know.” He nods, twisting his wrists back and forth, looking at the cufflinks. Then he gives you a once over. “Y’look good.”

“You too.” You look over him, he does look good. He’s in his suit, wearing his wedding ring, which makes your heart hurt a little bit, but he does look good. “What’s your fuckin’ job tonight, by the way?” He can’t be doing kitchen. He sucks at kitchen. But he’s also just not dressed for it.

“Fuckin’ everything.” Hyperbolic? Typically yes, with Richie, but not this time.

“Wait staff here had too high a fee—”

“Translation: more than free?”

“More than free, yeah.”

“Heard.”

“So, I’m server, set up, and fuckin’ whore-derve—”

“What?” That pronunciation snaps Sydney out of her autopilot clean, her back snaps up straight. Hands on her hips, like a disappointed teacher. “It’s hors d’oeuvres.”

Richie rolls his eyes and really his whole head back. “Just because you went to the fuckin’ CIA or whatever the fuck—��

You interrupt the fight before it can start. “Let’s just say appetizers.”

Sydney does not let you. “Apps and hors d’oeuvres are different.”

You angle your body from Richie to her, deadpanning. “Just because you went to the fuckin’ FBI or whatever the fuck—”

“Alright!” She’s already walking to the door, despite the fact that she started it— “We’ve gotta fuckin’ get to hall now or we’re gonna have like zero prep time, Chefs.”

You both follow after her, doing one last check to make sure you’ve got everything you need. You honestly don’t need to be in this much of a rush, you’re pretty sure, but you don’t mention that. Richie said Carmen just went straight to the banquet hall, when they came in this morning. You’re not sure how well you know him anymore, all things considered, but by your best guess, he’s almost certainly done all the prep by himself.

Carmen did not do the kitchen prep entirely himself. Well. He might’ve, you haven’t checked, but you don’t think he would’ve had the time.

Carmen did your prep entirely himself.

When you get to the bar, in the banquet hall, you have nothing to do. Side work finished for you. Lemons, limes, oranges— All cut into wedges and loaded in their baskets— even the cherries are pitted. The glasses are organized from wine to whiskey glasses, the sink is clean— Which you know the banquet hall staff didn’t do— They never fucking do.

You don’t see Carmen, but you know he did it. He showed up before anyone else, he was in the kitchen before anyone else— So no one else could’ve left the simple braised beef sandwich on your station. Exactly how Mikey used to make it. Half hot, half sweet. Your order at The Beef. Carmen would’ve done pork, but this is what they had on hand, and he had a feeling this would mean more, anyways. It does. Granola bar on the plate with it. One of the nice ones, too. The wrapping boasts fifteen grams of protein.

He knows how hard running bar is. He knows you won’t have time to eat once it starts. So, he’s making sure you get something down now— And that you have time to eat it in peace, and making sure you have something you can scarf mid-shift later, when you don’t have time.

Fucking. Hell. Fuck this fucking guy. Carmen fucking sucks. You fucking suck. This all fucking sucks so much. This sandwich is so fucking good. You’re so fucking mad. Stop saying fuck. Fuck your subconscious for wanting you to stop saying fuck. It’s so unfair, for him to be maybe the cruelest a person could possibly be, in front of an audience made out of your loved ones, and then be sweet, like this.

He is awful, with words— Well, he’s typically better, with you, par for the last time, but he’s best in the kitchen. You can taste the sorrow, the guilt, the apology. The first thing he ever made you, was a sandwich, the brisket sandwich, that Mikey refined for you, as an apology, for freaking the fuck out in a freezer and having that be your first impression of him— Or, at least, first first-hand impression of him. How far you’ve come.

This will not pass, as an apology. Not a proper one. But… You’ll give him a sign, in return, at least. A confirmation that you got the message, nothing more. Definitely nothing more.

“Rich.” You stop the guy in his tracks, as he marches through the room, helping the rest of the staff set up the hall. Not his job, but it’s Richie. “Can you ask kitchen their shifties?”

He nods, like he understands, walking away with stacks of chairs under both his arms.

He comes back after two minutes, straight up to your bar. “What the fuck is a shifty?”

“Oh.” You feel condescending, for being surprised. You’d never really thought about the huge difference between morning servers and night servers until right now. Richie has never worked with a bar staff. He worked at a fucking sandwich shop. “It’s uh— Your drink. Get a drink on your shift— Shifty— It can be like, a cocktail, a straight, a shot, coffee—”

“I know how many fucking drinks exist, Chip—” “Mocktail, smoothie, juice—” “Yeah, I’ll get a Pina Colada.” “I will break the blender over your head.” “I’ll get you a list.”

You nod, already starting on usuals you know will have remained unchanged since your absence. Steel trap memory. Getting drinks with The Beef staff used to be the highlight of your week, which isn’t a sad statement at all.  “I won’t tell anyone you like Dirty Shirleys.”

He defends. “Eva put me on them.”

“Insane thing to say about your five-year-old.”

“You know what I meant— She likes the normal—” “I’m pokin’ fun, go give this to Carmen.”

You’re hoping if you say it fast, coupled with bickering, Richie won’t make mental note of it. Won’t register it. Of course, he still does. How could he not? You slide the mug to him; he takes it, though, slow, with a perplexed look.

Yeah. They had lavender and maple syrup behind the bar. And cardamom. And milk to froth. And black coffee. Whatever. You didn’t have any dried lavender to top it with, this time, so it’s not actually that cool, anyways. Doesn’t make it special. Did you do a maple syrup drizzle to make up for this? Yeah. You hate yourself just a little bit, for it. You really cannot shut off the way you love, can you? Hopeless. Be even the slightest bit withholding, would you? Just a touch petty? God, you suck. Such a princess.

Rich shrugs, when you don’t try to justify yourself. You’re an adult, he won’t coerce you to be sharper, even if you should be. “Aye aye, Chippy.”

If Carmen ends up wanting to drink later, then he’ll have to come to you. That’s being tough, right? Sure. That’s definitely withholding, Chip. Really showed Carmen there. Certainly, a church woman must be clutching her pearls at your backbone, somewhere in the world.

Do you think you’d be able to handle him coming to your bar, anyways?

No. Decidedly no. Which is a bit stupid, because you’ve faced much scarier things in your life, than some asshole you owe two grand. Well, some asshole you owe two grand that you love deeply that hates you deeply because you are in some part responsible for not taking care of his brother—

Carmen doing your side work was unintentionally cruel, honestly. You don’t have anywhere for your brain to go but him. Don’t have anyone to talk to, or anything to do. Richie can tell and whether you want him to or not; he knows what you need. He repeats himself, walking off with the mug. “I’ll get you your list.”

He knows what you need. Something to do. Something to fix, for someone. Not fix someone. People’s princess. Still failed Mikey, no matter how hard you tried.

Sprite, grenadine, vodka, lime, maraschino cherries. Dirty Shirley. Something to do. Just focus on something to do.

You miss the naivety of wanting something to do. Three hundred guests versus one bartender without a barback is a layer of hell that Dante forgot to specify in his Inferno.

“What can I fix for you, ma’am?!” You’ve got to yell every sentence to get anything intelligible over the music and the cacophony of conversations.

There is an overlap of voices from every single woman crowding around your bar, despite the fact that you were definitely making explicit eye-contact with just one of them. You lean over the counter to hear her alone. She blinks, when you get in her face.

“What are we?”

You cannot stop the snort, but you’re pretty sure she didn’t hear it, music's too loud to hear anything. Syd’s a fucking oracle. “We’re fucked. What can I get for you?”

“Lemon drop shot?” Of course. It’s New York.

“Comin’ right up—”

The crowd of women interrupt you, and each other. “Oh, make that two!” “Make that three!” “Wait what are we making?”

Who the fuck is we? They’re more than welcome to get behind the bar with you. You’d take anyone, at this point.

“Lemon drops, babe!” “Oh—Oh, we doin’ lemon drops?” “Let’s just say ten and be safe!”

Of course.

It’s a lot of that, on repeat. But it’s better than the ones that want one very specific brand of scotch with their soda, because at least you can make huge batches for these ones— Does no one know how to fucking act around an open bar anymore? You get a vodka cran and you fuck off. You really need to start telling people you don’t know how to make bellinis.

Working alone is hard, because you can tell when you turn your back to make drinks, and aren’t able to take twenty more orders at the same time, that everyone’s real fucking annoyed with you. You have tried splitting your cells to become a second person, didn’t work. You’re constantly spinning around to accommodate people, and it’s getting fucking nauseating. And you’re usually patient, but the questions are getting just as mind-numbing.

“Can I get a uh… A negroni… Sbagliato? With prosecco?” “Sbagliato means prosecco is in it, sweetheart.”

“Do you do hurricane shots?” “I’m happy to slap you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh, so it’s open bar?” “Yeah.” “So, I don’t have to tip, either?” “Well— It’s appreciated— Oh, and you’ve already walked away. Okay.”

It’s a lot of that, on repeat.

You see from twenty feet away, amidst the crowds, Uncle Jimmy walking towards your bar, and when he waves all friendly, he sees your glower, and opts to turn in the other direction. Smart man. No wonder he’s successful.

Richie swings by your bar, waiting at the corner, where the line hasn’t congregated. You don’t need to be shaking this martini for as long as you are, but it’s a good way to look like you’re working when you’re just trying to talk to Richie. He presents his serving tray to you. “Tiny quiche?”

You open your mouth, hands full with your shaker. He gets the point, stabbing a toothpick into the appetizer and shoving it in your mouth. Oh God, food is beautiful. Food is what sustains. You could write a full book of poetry right now about why food is everything. Well, not everything. You’re still in hell.

“Richie, I’m dying, your job can’t be that important, come be barback.” You pour out the martini. You attempt to open the jar of olives by yourself, when you struggle, Richie puts his tray down and grabs the jar from you.

Thankfully for your pride, he’s also struggling with it. Plus, it gives you time to annihilate the tray of quiches. He shakes his head, his job is important, allegedly. “You want me to starve guests?”

“Ideally? Yes.” You ignore the dirty looks you get from eavesdropping patrons. He hands you the opened jar. You take a toothpick from his tray, since you’re already out of yours, pierce an olive, toss it in the martini, and pass it to someone— Quite frankly, there’s every chance that’s not the guy that ordered the dirty martini, but he takes it, so who gives a fuck.

Richie sighs, he does want to help. “I’ll ask kitchen if they can cut someone.”

Thank fucking God. “Ask Marcus, he’s got mixology experience or some shit.” You remember being occasionally impressed by his verbiage— At the very least, he knows what stuff is back here, and that’s enough for you.

Richie just shakes his head, lips in a line, when you mention Marcus. A universal sign that something has gone horrifically wrong. You furrow your brows, immediately worried, leaning forward. “What happened?”

“Excuse me! What’s it take to get a long-island iced tea around here? This open bar is not very open!”

You and Richie both grimace, at the thick Jersey accent on this woman waving her hand hysterically at your bar. He gives you a nod, already taking his empty tray and starting to walk back to the kitchen. “I’ll ask.”

You turn your body to the woman, but head still to Richie. “Don’t ask. Tell.”

Not even five minutes pass, before you get a barrage of texts, from multiple people, all at once. You watch them flood in on the notification screen of your phone laying on the counter, while shaking up a cosmo, this time.

From Marcus, worrying. ‘sorrysorysorrybakkingemergencymbmmbmb’

From Syd, concerning. ‘couldn’t stop him lmk if it’s bad’

From Richie, alarming. ‘yk how to call your dog right’

But it all makes sense, when Carmen comes up to your bar, removing his apron. “You need a barback?”

Hair is normal. Not at its best, not how you taught him, but it’s better than before. He smells excessively like you; like accidentally used half the bottle levels like you. Maybe not an accident. Don’t read into it, too much— They’re almost certainly the only travel sized bottles he had on hand. Of course he’d take them. He smells like Old Spice, too, though. Don’t read into it. He looks tired. You knew he would. You’ve watched his location, every day. By the time you go to bed each night, he’s only just left The Bear. He deserves to feel tired, he was a fucking asshole, and you’re glad your cat ate just short of all of his flowers.

But you brought in the plate, the next morning. You cleaned it, and then hid it in the back of your dishwasher. You wanted it to be safe, you also just didn’t want to look at it or think about it or have it exist in your mind, at all. That’s half the reason you couldn’t let it perch outside your window anymore. Taunting you. He’s a piece of shit, but you can feel it in your chest; the care you cannot get rid of. The desire to ask are you okay? Have you been sleeping? How are you? How’s your week been? Want a hug? Have you been playing Connections? What did I do wrong? Did you need me? Did anything break? Did you break?

You missed him. Was the radio silence relieving? Yes. Preferably, you’d never acknowledge each other for the rest of your lives besides an eventual wire transfer. Preferably, he’d stay in the back of your dishwasher for the rest of your life. But God, you missed him, this week. You’ll probably miss him for the rest of your life. Is that toxic? You’re working on it. No you’re not… He just made every space easier to breathe in, kept a light on, for you. Not at the end, but he did before. Before he figured out that he hates you.

It’s a thing that everyone says about you, that you bring ease, and whether you can confirm or deny that, who’s to say— But you know Carmen does it for you. Lights up a room for you. And you might be alone in that feeling, but that’s okay with you. Or it was. It was, before he figured out he should hate you.

Oh, shit, you’ve been staring at him in silence for way too long. It’s hard to know how to navigate this. You don’t know how to feel, so you don’t know how to act either. It’s all a weird state of limbo that you desperately want to get out of, but don’t want to do any of the work required to do so. What do you do with your hands? Your body? Your voice? Are you supposed to be funny and nice still? Christ, just say something. What’d he ask, again? Can’t remember.

“Uh…” Still can’t remember, but— “What’s happening with Marcus?”

He seems to falter, slightly, but he comes into your bar, oh right, barback. You needed a barback. He exchanges his kitchen apron for a bar apron. Not used to seeing him wear all black. You wish you could enjoy it. Wish you could say it’s cool watching him act as one of your professions. He answers, as he ties the strings around his waist. “Uber dropped their wedding cake.”

Fuck whatever tension you two have. You nearly fold over in shock. The current track on the speakers fades out, right as you yell back, “They dropped their fucking wedd—!?”

With haste, Carmen puts the palm of his hand over your mouth. Knife tattoo hand. Oh, he missed being this close to you. Not the point here, though. “Shhhhhhh…!”

You relax, he removes his hand, you’re annoyed that you wish he didn’t. You whisper, though it’s still screeching in tone. “They dropped their fucking wedding cake?”

He nods, combing his hair back with his hand. Knife tattoo hand. It’s making your shampoo waft. You both notice it. He stops. “Marcus is remaking one, now.”

“From scratch?” You were right to be so worried; Richie was right to make the face he did. Carmen tilts his head back and forth. “Box mix that he’s finessing—”

You finish the sentence with him, “—Because he’s Marcus.” The king of doing too much, especially when there’s no time for it. It’s his best and worst trait.

He nods, smiling just slightly, but not the typical smile you get from him. Timid. “Yeah, so he’s locked in, but I’m here.”

Simple sentence, but it still schisms your brain. You cannot help but feel a distrust of it. “Shouldn’t you be running the back, though?” Keeping his kitchen in order? Being the Exec in his head?

He shakes his head. “They run a tight ship without me just fine.” The first lesson you gave to him, that that’s a good thing. Is this conversation hitting specific pain points on purpose as a punishment from God or is this just how all your conversations are going to feel, from now on?

Probably both. You nod. “Okay.” You do need a barback.

“This is so cute, girl, and I love love but I’m gonna need that Cosmo like yesterday.” Why did this woman have to say love? That would already be terrible if you were good right now. Carmen’s probably not the type of guy to say the L word for like several months anyways. You’re not even dating anyways— Or weren’t? Can you use past-tense on something that never was?

You hand her the Cosmo, and you both pretend you never heard her.

Running bar with Carmen makes your life infinitely easier, though albeit tenser. He hasn’t done this before, but he’s watched previous bar staff from the sidelines— And one of his best traits is how quick he catches on to things. He’s not confident enough to mix drinks, but everything else, he does just fine.

“Behind.” There’re occasional autopilot moments that make you laugh, though. He snaps back into his body, when you do, moving next to you. He tilts his head, “What, you don’t say behind?”

You shrug, and it feels normal, for a second. “Professionals probably do, I’ve never worked in a place that does, though.”

“But what about when you’re holdin’ shit?” You allow yourself to feel normal, for a second. It is a delight to teach him something about your work. You continue to make drinks and hand off orders, all while you both speak. It reminds you of the domestic flow you were both so used to doing. That was so easy for you both to fall into. It’s nice that it somehow hasn’t gone away.

“So, you know when you’re in the kitchen, or here, behind bar, you get like, really fucking hot?” Don’t let that entendre stay doubled— “Like sweaty?”

“Mhm?”

You hold onto your chilled shaker, stepping behind him, “So, we don’t say behind, we—” and press it just under the back of his neck. He shivers, immediately, full shock running through his system. “Do that.”

“Christ!”

You want to enjoy the moment, but you can’t help but remember him calling you a modern-day saviour. You try to push it down, but the warmth you were starting to feel tones down, quite a bit. You manage to keep him from noticing, manage to keep the smile on. “What, don’t like it? It’s nice!”

“Think it’s a safety concern, f’sure.”

“Call OSHA.” You touch the shaker to his face, before going to pour it. He laughs. Actually laughs. You wish that made you feel good, still. And somewhere, in some corner of yourself, it still does. But not like it did before.

Soon enough, you two get a second of reprieve, as Vinnie’s Best Man gets up to do his speech, or whatever. He uses a knife to clink his glass, and of course, it fucking shatters. You’re half-mad, because technically for the night, those are your glasses, but it’s too funny to actually give a shit. Plus, the Best Man gets a pass tonight, in your book, because one, he understood protocol and got a vodka cran from you, and two, his speech is forcing everyone to sit down and leave y’all the fuck alone.

“Beautiful night, beautiful couple, beautiful people— Couldn’t ask for a better weddin’ for my best friend— But let’s be honest, I didn’t think he’d be gettin’ a wedding at all— Aye! This guy Vin, amirite?”

You take this moment to halve your protein bar from Carmen. You wordlessly hand the other half to him. He shakes his head. “M��Good, you eat.”

 You shove it towards him. You know he hasn’t eaten much, you don’t know how, but you just know. “I’ve eaten twelve tiny quiches and a beef sandwich, Carm, take the fuckin’ granola.”

He breathes heavily through his nose, but he takes it. You both watch the Best Man, quietly eating your halves. He is silently overjoyed at the verbal confirmation you ate the sandwich.

“I don’t need to introduce my goddamn self, I’m sure my reputation precedes me, right? But I’m Leo, I’m my boy’s Best Man, and I just couldn’t be more honoured, y’know? We grew up together, playin’ stickball in the Bronx, and now this guy’s marryin’ one of the most wonderful women in the world? And I get to be here? Man, I love ya.”

As cranky as you’ve been all night, this really is a gorgeous wedding. More often than not, the guests are nice, it’s just that the shit ones stick out in your head like nails to be hammered. Vinnie and Mira seem like a good couple. You wonder if you’ll ever get to have a wedding like this. They commissioned one of those painters to do a live painting, too. Always wanted one of those. And they’ve got little gift bags for the guests. You’re taking notes, internally, of what you like here, what you’d want to do for your own.

You wish you and Carmen were talking, right now. Despite the fact that Leo’s voice is booming throughout the hall’s speakers, the silence between you feels deafening, because you both know that you would be talking right now, if you weren’t living in fucking limbo. You need to work. You need something to do. The ice basket is running low, refilling it will take at least two minutes and maybe holding the ice will shock your nervous system.

You grab a bag of ice from the freezer behind you both, Carmen pretends to be listening to the speech, because he doesn’t feel like he has the right to help you with the weight. You cut the bag, emptying huge chunks of ice into the basket. You ball up the plastic in your hands to throw out; you nod to Carmen. “Can you break the ice?”

He seems surprised, taking a second, before nodding, crossing and uncrossing his arms. “I owe you an apology—”

“Oh, no!” You hastily correct. “No— Yes but no— I— I meant—” You hand him the metal scooper, nodding to the clumped-up ice you just poured out. “I meant can you break the literal ice blocks?”

Carmen wishes he has dead. And you can both tell that. “Yes. Yes— Yeah, f’sure, one-hundred— Course. Heard.” You nod back, pensive, throwing the plastic bag out, staring straight ahead, trying to refocus on Leo again. You can’t.

Carmen beats the ice, softly, so as to not make a noticeable noise for the audience. After a few seconds, he returns to his point. “…I do owe you an apology, though—”

“Don’t even worry about it, Carmen.” You don’t say this. Fak does. He sidles up to the bar. Where he keeps apparating from and hearing your conversations, you’re really not sure. “I’ve got this one.”

Neither you or Carmen know what Fak thinks he’s got, here, but you’re both too intrigued or surprised to stop him. Well, Carmen does give it a fair shot, after a second, “Fak, I’m—”

“Nono—” But there’s simply no chance. “I appreciate you trying to fix my problems for me, but y’know, I can handle myself, Carmen.” …You wish that’s what Carmen said, last Friday, instead of calling himself your charity tax write-off.

Fak pivots to you, sighing, shrugging, hands up, as if you know as well as he does what the fuck he’s about to say. You can’t tell if you’re supposed to be scared right now or not. When you don’t say anything, he starts, “Alright, I guess I’m the one that's brave enough to say it, there’s some major tension here.”

Now why does Fak think he’s the one to acknowledge this. Quite frankly, why is Fak here? Is he working, too? On what exactly? You don’t remember seeing him on the plane, either. Was he a part of the road trip? Dear God, that's a nightmare third wheel. You just let out a, “Huh?”

“Oh, come on, you haven’t shown up at The Bear since last Friday—” You’re now remembering that before the fight of all fights broke out that night, Fak ran out of the kitchen. Guess no one filled him in, after. “And like, this week, when something broke—” He nods to Carmen, who grimaces, hand over his face. “Carmy told me to fix it, instead of calling you, like he’d usually.”

You know you’re not allowed to be upset about that, and yet, you really fucking are. You’re Carmen’s fucking fixer. Or were? Fuck. Christ, are you jealous of Fak now? You turn your gaze just slightly to Carmen, who’s leaning over the counter, propping his head up on his hands. “What broke?”

He answers briefly. “Expo clock.”

It was extremely apt and even more upsetting for him, the way time literally stopped, when you left. When he made you leave.

You tuck your hands in your pockets, looking back to Fak. “You fix it?”

He shrugs. “Yeah.” Carmen stands back up, opening his mouth to intercept, Fak puts a hand in front of his face. “No Carm, I’ve gotta tell her the truth…” What.

“Tony…” Neil sighs, unable to make eye contact, at this moment. “I was really harsh on you, that Friday…”

“…Huh?” The fucking degree thing? Is that what he’s talking about? You honestly can’t remember anything before Carmen, from that night.

“You don’t need to hide your pain.” He nods solemnly, “I— I’m just gonna say it… I know it’s hard to believe, but I was… jealous.”

“I know.”

He ignores that you’ve said this entirely, “I know, I know, it’s crazy. Me? Jealous? But yeah, I was really good at hiding it, but you’re just really like smart, Tony, y’know? And everyone was like— Tony can fix this— Tony can fix that— And I was holding it together, but then you were good at serving, too. And it got to me— And obviously Carmen could tell, so he stopped calling you. Trying to be a true bro.”

Oh, Fak really doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, huh? “Of course there’s like, the other obvious tension in the room—” Oh okay, so he does know— “Between us.” What.

“What’s up?” You blink, voice going high for a second. Carmen cannot stop staring at Fak, face entirely unmoving, unblinking. Neither of you are sure what emotion to feel right now. Is Leo’s speech still fucking going? You’ve completely tuned it out, if it is.

Fak gestures to the air between you two. “Well like, there’s obviously a really intense sort of rivals to romance dynamic happening here…”

What.

“And like,” He raises his hands, in defense— Of what exactly? You couldn’t be less sure. “I could totally see that happening, in the future.”

It takes everything in you, to just hold your lips closed together. You have to bite down on your top lip, to not scream laugh in his face. “For sure, man.”

He nods, continuing, “But right now, I just don’t think I’m ready to take what you’re giving, y’know?” Holy shit, wait, is that how Carmen feels? Is that what the fuck is going on in his head? “Just not ready for all—” He gestures to you in general. “This.”

“Little harsh.” You tilt your head. “Fuckin’ cool it, Fak.” Carmen barks, in tandem with you. Oh, he’s upset. He wasn’t set on his emotions, this entire time, but he seems to have now settled in the upset category.

“Right.” Fak nods. “And so, I’m sorry I can’t be that for you… And I know it’s gonna take time to recover, but please come back to The Bear, when you’re ready. You’re… You’re a better repairman than me. We need you.”

You put a hand over your mouth, to cover your shit eating grin, trying your best to compose yourself and look sad. The best way out of this is to just agree with him. It’d take far too much energy to clarify everything for Fak. You’re nodding too much. “…Yeah, y’know, Fak… I will consider that. All those words you said? I’m gonna… Gonna really take all of it to heart, dude. I really appreciate… The directness— Y’know, that takes… Strength, man.”

“Thank you.” He nods. “Still friends?”

You did not realize you were even friends to start. And not in the insecure way, this time. You nod. “For sure, dude.”

You and Carmen both watch him walk away, in perplexed silence. Carm’s the first to break it. “…Was that anything—” “Obviously fucking not.”

He’s going to reply something witty in response, and it’s going to make you both feel like everything’s okay, again, but then he seems to see something that scares him straight. He turns to the back of the bar, aimlessly grabbing bottles, for no reason. Literally no reason, everyone sat for the speeches, what’s he doing—?

“You still serving?” Older man, oval glasses. He stands in front of your bar. Ah. Kinda rude of him, maybe that’s why Carmen’s giving the cold shoulder to this guy? Whatever. You'll serve him. Just because you're Chicago's Kindest doesn't mean everyone else has to be.

“Yessir, what can I fix for you?”

“Manhattan with bourbon?”

You salute, “Aye aye.” And get to mixing the drink. You’re pretty sure Carmen must know this guy, because he’s already set out the bourbon, vermouth, and angostura. It doesn’t take long to fix the drink.

When you go to hand it to the man, he seems to notice the mop of blond curls behind you. “Aye, Carmen? Jimmy told me you’d be workin’ tonight.”

A small, tentative, meek wave from Carmen. He sniffs. “Yeah. Hi, Uncle Lee.”

“Oh.” Is all you can say. Pulling the drink away from his hand, as Uncle Lee reaches for it. “You’re Uncle Lee?”

“My reputation precedes me?” He chuckles, nodding.

Carmen comes up beside you, and witnesses a smile from you that he’s never seen from you, and ideally hopes will never be directed at him. It’s the slowness of it, it’s a smile, but you’re doing it purely to bare your teeth.

“It sure does.” Give him a chance, it’s been four years, give him a chance. “I was a friend of Mikey’s.”

He fails the chance. “Ah… I see, friend, ya did a little—” He taps the side of his nose, sniffing. “Together?”

He really fucking fails the chance. Your smile grows, painfully so. The apples of your cheeks so high they practically close your eyes for you. You laugh a deeply fake laugh. “Hahaha, yeah, yeah, that’s exactly what we used to do. Uncle Lee.”

“Oh!” You tilt your wrist quickly, pouring the bourbon Manhattan in the bar sink. “Ah, fuck. Hand slipped.”

Lee is a bit taken aback. “Really—?”

“Really.” You repeat. Putting the glass down. “And y’know, I could remake that for you, but I dunno if you wanna trust my shaky junkie hands.”

Holy fuck. Carmen has always been great at keeping his reactions hidden, and still is, so Uncle Lee cannot tell how out of character this is, of you. You’re nice, you don’t bite— Or Carmy didn’t think you did, because of the amount of grace you gave him, last Friday.

“Lee, I’m gonna level with you.” You cross your arms, smile fading, but there’s still that venomous lilt in your voice. “I’ve been thinking for the last, I dunno, two years, what I’d say to you, if I had the displeasure of seeing you.”

There’s a pile of forks behind your bar, that you’d asked Richie for, just in case this situation came to a head. Just in case this fucking idiot came by. But it just doesn’t feel right, now. Doesn't feel right to leap over the counter and stab him in the neck with a fork. Though you've imagined it, and you still actively are.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod, looking around the venue. “But we’re at this beautiful wedding, and Vinnie and Mira don’t deserve to have their reception ruined by us causing a scene.” You gesture to the air between you, almost comical.

He shrugs, “Better than Mikey, in that regard, then.” You know what he’s referring to, despite not being there.

You nod, smiling real big now, really baring your teeth, now. “His fuckin’ house, Lee.”

“I could have your ass fired, y’know.” “So do it.”

You lean forward, elbows on the counter. “I’m not getting paid for this. Please, get me fired. Snitch to Uncle J, c’mon, fire me. I’m delighted to get cut. Do it.”

After what feels like eons of a silent stare down, Uncle Lee throws a fake punch. Carmen’s the only one that flinches, immediately rearing his own fist back, stopping short when Lee does.

You’re still just coy, elbows on the counter. Lee scoffs, “Cokehead.” Of course.

“Yessir.” You just lightly shake your head, standing up straight again, smiling, amused, delighted, even. “That’s me. That’s who I am.” It’s not, but there’s no point in arguing with him— Especially when you agreeing just seems to piss him off more.

You’ve given Lee nothing to work with, to insult you, so it takes him a moment to generate something. “You’re—”

You don’t let him get it out, putting a hand up for him to give it a rest. “Lee, I’m not startin’ a scene, it’s a gorgeous wedding.”

“Oh, how grown of you—” “But, if you wanna have a scene, just wait in the parking lot.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You really think—” “I do. I do think, Lee.”

You lean forward, again, shrugging, speaking nonchalant, speaking with your hands, casually. “I wanna make it so clear, for you, too. I’m not gonna crack my knuckles, not gonna make some empty threats, not gonna scream in your face— I’m not gonna tell you I’m gonna kill you or anything like that. Because obviously, I wouldn’t do that.”

You nod, slowly, methodically, clearly. “What I am gonna say, is that I have been a bartender on and off since I was twenty-one. I was an E-M-T, for three years— All in our beautiful city of Chicago, Illinois. The sheer volume of geriatric white guys I have had to pull to the concrete in a full nelson in both professions— Insurmountable, Lee. So again, to be, so fucking clear, Lee— If I see you outside, I’m taking you to the fucking pavement, and I’m not getting off.”

Uncle Lee’s got no comeback, for this, but he’d be dead in the ground before he just lets someone have the last word. This is why Uncle Jimmy is more successful. “Oh, I’m sure you fuckin’ would.”

You grin. God, those forks are tempting. Resist. You keep your hands busy by grabbing a maraschino cherry from it's jar behind your bar to snack on. “Enjoy your night, Lee.”

“You’re a real fuckin’ bi—” A fork flies over his shoulder, clattering behind him. Not from you, from Carmen.

He speaks for you. “Enjoy your night, Uncle Lee.”

It feels good to be backed. Carmen’s here, and he’s on your team. You tack on, waving goodbye to the fucker, “Back lot, Uncle Lee.”

Lee pivots his gaze to Carmen, he rolls his eyes, disappointed. “Alright, Donna.”

Carmen goes for another fork, you stop his hand, holding it there, for a second. The metal clatters behind the counter. Lee’s pleased enough with the provocation. Men like him don’t leave until they’ve won something in their heads. He leaves, on his way to the punch bowl, since he’s determined he’s not getting shit from the bar tonight. You and Carmen just watch him, like prey, making sure he leaves without looking back.

“You’ve got teeth.” Carmen’s first to speak, cleaning a glass, both of you looking straight ahead. You nod.

“I do.”

“You don’t bite much.”

You shrug. “Try not to.”

Carmen considers the fact that what he wants to say would mean sticking his foot in his mouth. He then considers the fact that nothing he could say now will ever be worse than what he said then. He keeps rubbing away at a perfectly shining glass.

“You didn’t bite me.”

“I didn’t.” You nod, and your body goes on autopilot, as you start making a drink no one’s ordered. Just need something to do. “I couldn’t.”

He doesn’t like that answer. “I deserved it.”

“I deserved it, too.” You’re not a big fan of your own answer, either. But you can’t say it’s not true. You deserved it. Just some failure leech trying to reattach yourself to people through merry good deeds, as if they’d add up to fucking anything—

“No, you didn’t.” He pivots to you, tone inarguable. He puts the glass down. It’s a lowball, you need a lowball, you grab it from him.

“Do you like cognac or vodka?” You ignore his words, but you look him in the eyes. You regret it.

He lets you get away with it, because he is absolutely not the one allowed to lead the conversation, here. He did enough bulldozing, before.

“I dunno, I don’t really drink much.” You squint, you’ve seen his apartment. He clarifies. “Other than wine n’ beer.”

You nod. You opt for cognac. He watches you, for a moment, before asking. “What’re you—”

You’re already finished, by this point, sliding the glass over to him. “Black lavender latte. Cognac n’ coffee liqueur. If it’s too strong, let me know, I can add more milk.”

“Thank you, Chef.” Is all he can think to say. He takes a sip. It’s far behind in his long list of regrets, but certainly one of them in the way he spoke to you, is that there’s a strong chance he will never have a mixologist as talented as you working at The Bear.

“Hmm.” You hum, not watching him drink it, because you won’t be able to handle either reaction— You won’t be able to handle disgust nor pleasure. You never want to look at Carmen again. He’s also all you want to see. This sucks. You suck. Carmen sucks.

“Thank you for the coffee earlier, too.” You’re overjoyed at the verbal confirmation he drank it.

“Figured you’d need one.”

“I did.” He thinks about it, and decides to take the bullet. “Needed yours.”

Your breath hitches, and he can’t tell whether or not that’s a good thing. He doesn’t get the chance to ask, as a meek and overly sweaty man comes up to your bar. There are bar stools at your counter, though they’ve been tucked far under it to keep the flow of traffic moving. But the man points down to the stool, silently asking. You nod.

“You can sit, sir.”

He’s delighted. He sits. “Sorry, I’m not gonna sit long, I just uh— Just—” He turns around pointing to the Maid of Honour, who’s just gotten on the hot mic for her speech. “I uhm, it’s— Usually the bar is empty, when uh, when people are talking.”

“That they are.” You nod, smile soft. “Can I get anything for you, or d’you just wanna sit? No shame in that.”

“I— I, uh, if it’s not a bother— I was just wonderin’ if uhm— Totally fine, if it’s— If it is— Do uhm, do you— Do you do mocktails?”

Carmen watches you grow ten times softer, in demeanor. It’s wonderful, how you’re able to flip on a dime. It’s wonderful what you’re willing to give to people, when they deserve it. You nod. “Yeah, sir. What’s your drink?”

“Oh— I— Anything’s fine, really.” He plays with the loose strings on the cuff of his left sleeve.

You tilt your head, recognizing his nervousness. “If it’s not too personal, sir, are you…” You debate the best way to say it. “Taking twelve steps?”

He looks scared, initially, to be caught; but then he looks at your face, and he knows he has nothing to be worried about. He nods. “One— Two months, two weeks, one day.”

“That’s huge.”

He shrugs. “It’s a start.”

“A start is huge.” You emphasize, and he nods, because that’s inarguable. “What was your drink before? I can make a mocktail of that— Or maybe you’d prefer somethin’ total opposite?”

“Oh! Yeah, I uh, I liked uh, old-fashioneds, but you can’t really make those without whiskey—”

“Yeah, you can.” You’re already grabbing your shaker. “You just use barley tea. I can do that— If you want that.”

He thinks on it, for a second. Debates whether nostalgia is good or not. “Yeah, yeah I’d like that.”

While you work on it, the guy feels enough confidence, bestowed by you, to tell you about himself. “I liked sitting. That was the thing I liked about drinking. The sitting and the talking and the feeling good about it.”

“I hear that.” You watch the tea steep, nodding. “Reason why the phrase is ‘takes the edge off’.”

Carmen has to turn around. He’s listening intently, but he has to turn around. Again, he’s pretty good at hiding his tells, but you’re pretty good at reading them. And you’d be able to tell his flat expression is the equivalent of being absolutely fucking bug eyed on anyone else. You’re a bartender. You were a paramedic. You have seen so many people, on their worst day— Seen so many people like this guy, like his brother. You have taken care of so many addicts.

The number of times he said loser or junkie to your face, and the way that that was what you always fought back on. It will not stop replaying, in Carmen’s head. The way you think that wasn’t okay, but the way he spoke about you was. It’s all just nauseating. You’re so good to everyone but you. You defend everyone but you. Carmen's almost furious about this, though he doesn't feel he has the right to be. You should've treated him like Uncle Lee. He acted exactly like Uncle Lee. 

“It can make it easier, to be at the bar, for some people, I've found.” You continue, still making conversation with the man as you stir the steeped tea into the glass, over ice. “Makes you feel normal.” Forced sobriety is definitely in the top five, of the most ostracizing human experiences.

He nods, relieved to have someone. “Most people don’t get that.”

You nod, strain out the virgin old-fashioned, and push the glass to him across the counter. “Well, I get that.”

He takes a sip of the mocktail, it’s perfectly nostalgic in a way that doesn’t hurt. “Thank you.” He’s thanking you for a lot more than the drink. 

“A pleasure.” You nod. He stands up, tucking the stool back under the counter, as the speeches end. It won’t be long until the bar is crowded again, and he knows it’ll be too much, for him or you. You add. “Good luck with month three. It's a heavy one.”

“If you work it and you’re worth it.” He recites the line incorrectly on purpose, it’s an important one, but you both still laugh at it. Like an inside joke, practically. You give one quick dap, he puts a twenty in your tip jar, and walks off, with less sweat, and more spring in his step, this time. Good.

When he walks away, before guests start to stand, there’s a lull of silence. You don’t need to look at Carmen to know he has a million different thoughts, and a million more follow ups. 

“You have questions?”

“None of my business.” He sniffs, awkwardly. “Unless you want it to be.”

Why did he have to fucking say it like that. Why did he have to put the ball in your court. Carmen fucking sucks. Y’know what, no, turn it on his ass.

“Did you give the New York Exec my number?”

“No.” The reply is instant. He doesn’t get thrown by the topic change in the slightest. You were pretty sure you knew the answer, but the speed of it is still a little surprising. Like it wasn’t something that was ever up for debate.

“What’d you say to him, then?”

This is when he looks embarrassed, just slightly. This part was up for debate, seemingly. “We—”

“Everyone, please stay in your seats for just a moment, our wonderful catering crew will be coming around to serve you!” Says… Vinnie’s mom? Mira’s mom? They all kind of blend together. It’s not long after this, that Syd rolls by with Marcus and a cart of food. She’s starting with you, despite the fact that you’re not a guest. Sweetie.

“Salmon or chicken?”

“Just gimme both, we’ll split it.” You nod your head to Carmen. “Best of both worlds.”

And then, the game of eye contact conversation ensues. A game that Carmen nor Marcus can comprehend.

‘I asked you’ Syd glares.

‘You can’t just starve him out’ You deadpan.

‘Who said?’

“Syd.” You say aloud. She sighs, handing you both plates, mumbling ‘whatevers’, walking off to serve the actual guests. No time to bicker. You look to Marcus, worried. “Heard about the cake, how’s it goin?”

He shrugs but he’s smirking, proud and bad at hiding it, he hands you a paper plate with a little chocolate cupcake. The floral frosting job is simple, and you know if he had more time, you’d probably be looking at a full realistic rose, but it’s still beautiful. “You tell me. Taste test.”

“Lil sacrilege, to do dessert before dinner, but okay.” You grab a fork from your pile, digging in. “Oh fuck,” You have to laugh. “Marcus— You stress me the fuck out, how do you have time to make shit this good?”

It’s a built-in habit for you, to hand your fork to Carmen. He gives you a moment to realize or pull back. You should but you don’t. He takes it, thankful, and tries the cupcake for himself.

“S’fire, Chef.” He points the fork, emphatically. “‘Specially with what you had.”

“Thank you, Chef.” Marcus nods.

You tilt your head, curious, “Do you even have time to test, though? If this sucked you wouldn’t have time to remake the full cake anyways, would you?”

“No.” He answers bluntly, and you both snort. He adds, “Just wanted to make sure you got dessert, over here.” Just wanted to make sure you ate something.

“Marcus…” You pout, overcome by the sweetness of the sweets Chef. You’ve gotta return the favour. “Gin and juice still your go-to?”

“You tryna get me fucked up at work?”

You shrug, grinning. “Are you tryna get fucked up at work?”

He’s going to say yes, but then he pauses, and looks to his boss. Looks to Carmen. Ah, you don’t run his kitchen— Get that through your head. Of course, Marcus can’t just drink—

Carmen shrugs, smiling, “Are you tryna get fucked up at work, Chef?”

Marcus claps his hands, grinning. “Yessir!”

That makes you feel a little lighter. You nod. “Gin and juice, comin’ up.”

You pour out the pineapple juice— Marcus’ preferred juice, of course you remembered. And Marcus leans over the bar, to watch you stir in the gin, even if it’s just a stupid simple drink, the guy loves to learn.

He asks, “How much they payin’ you, tonight?”

You shake your head, “Tips. Nothin’ else.”

Carmen’s ears burn, at that, while he evenly divides and plates out the salmon and chicken plates so you both have a little of everything. If things were normal you could just eat off each other's plates.

Marcus tilts his head, just as surprised. “You in debt, too?”

“Just to Mikey.” You smile, shaking your head. “No, I’m doin’ this in exchange for Uncle J getting me out of work early, a couple weeks back.”

“That’s it?”

“I was in a rush.” You shrug, measuring out the simple syrup. “Got like thirty missed texts from Syd, I thought someone fuckin’ died, didn’t have time to bargain.”

“Wait—” Marcus cannot help but grin, nearly laughing, at the ridiculousness of it, at how bad you got fucked over, by your own permission. “You’re here because you… left work… to go deliver Nat’s baby?”

“Yessir.” Are you fucking serious? Carmen can’t help but stare at the side of your head, for just a few seconds, before going back down to the plates. You’re in this hellscape of a bar, three states from your home, because you were delivering his niece? You did that for them already, and promised yourself for this, in order to do that?

“You know me,” You hand Marcus his glass, and you shouldn’t make the joke, but you can’t help yourself. “Modern day Christ.”

Marcus stifles down his snort, turning his head away from Carmen, to look at the ground. You do the same. There is something painful, about it all, for everyone; but Carmen can’t say that pain isn’t deserved, on his end, so he takes it. You’re allowed to joke about it all you want, if that’s what it takes for you to feel lighter.

A timer goes off on Marcus’ phone. He takes a sip from his gin and juice, nodding in approval, “Oh, shit— Alright, cool times up—” He lifts the glass to you, you hurriedly get the point and grab a random empty cup to clink with him, cheers.

“I’ll be back.” He says. Doubtful, you think. But you nod and wave him off nonetheless.

“If T needs a drink, tell her to take five.” You haven’t seen her tonight, but you realize yourself, again, once you say this. Not your kitchen. “Uh— If that’s, that’s okay—”

“Tell Chef to take a break if she needs it, we haven’t seen her.” Says Carmen, beside you. We. Don’t read into it. He hates you, and you hate him, actually. Carmen sucks, and so do you.

Marcus nods, and makes his mad dash off as a tsunami of guests that have just gotten their plates decide now that they want a drink with their meal. Sonofabitch.

God, you need a break. It’s really hitting you, and your stomach. As full as everyone’s tried to keep you, you really need to just sit down and have your fucking plate. Working behind a bar is a nightmare on the feet and back— Your earrings feel heavy, and your bracelets feel like handcuffs. It’s just all too much, without a break. You need a nap and maybe a thirty-minute session of just staring at a wall.

But the tsunami.

Carmen watches your side profile, and thinking back in his head, the collage of memories forming your face— He’s never seen you genuinely fatigued before. He’s seen you in the middle of the night, he’s seen you caught off guard, seen you distressed— But you’ve never really been one to ask for a break. It’s always yes of course it’s done, with you. It’s your best and worst trait.

As the crowd closes in, and your face morphs into a smile, ready to serve, Carmen claps his hands together, calling out to the sea. “Ey, sorry everyone, we’re just gonna take a quick thirty, alright? Union mandated.”

There is no such thing as a Bartender’s Union, you and Carmen very well know that. You’re about to call it off and say it’s fine before someone can throw an empty glass at your head or something, but instead, a scrawny but wide built, deeply New York Italian man, at the front of the crowd nods.

And as he nods, the crowd groans. He looks deeply offended by this. He turns to his fellow guests. “Where do y’all get off? We fought for those thirty-minute breaks, you fucks!” This quiets them pretty quickly. “We can live with the fuckin’ punch bowl for thirty minutes, c’mon.”

Carmen gets close enough to whisper to you, but far enough that it’s still not personal. Far enough that he still hates you. “Most of the family does or did service work. Say ‘union mandated’ and you can do anythin’”

You smile, watching the crowd dissipate, you crack a joke, because that’s probably what you’re supposed to do. “Union mandated… Murder?”

“Revolt, y’mean?” “Is that an offer?” “I’d ride for you.”

It’s supposed to be light and fun, but you can’t stop yourself, you can’t play the part and it comes out. “Would you?”

That one hurts. It all hurts, but that one really gets Carmen. That you’d have genuine reason to have pause about his dedication to you. Not your fault, his.

You grab your plate from his side of the counter, embarrassed by your instinctual prod. “Sorry.”

He’s not embarrassed by his. “Stop apologizing.”

There’s a heavy silence, before Carmen adds, “I’m supposed to be fuckin’ apologizing.”

There are no more interruptions. Fak isn’t going to come by, patrons are leaving you be, the staff is either helping Marcus or serving food. There is nothing left, to interrupt you two. This is going to happen. Christ, why does Never Let Me Down Again have to be playing right now? That’s not a fucking wedding song. This is too dramatic and simultaneously awkward and clunky and bad. There is no somethings left for you to do. There is nothing left to do, but talk. Nothing left to do but escape the void, ideally together. Please let it be together. You hate to admit it, but you want it to be together.

There is no good place to sit. So, you pick up your plate, and one of the many forks from your pile. With a sigh, you crouch down, and slide yourself underneath the counter, sitting with your legs folded, so Carmen can join you. You nod to him, to let him know that he can in fact join you.

He does. You take a few bites, in silence, before he breaks it.

“I didn’t mean a fuckin’ word.”

“It’s okay if you did.” You can’t look up from your plate. You deserved it.

He says your name, with a severity, to it. “—I didn’t mean a fucking word.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

“I—” Despite rehearsing what he wanted to say, and having ample stage to say it, he does not know how to say any of it, anymore. “I was like, like, jealous? But not in the— Not in the normal way.”

“Normal way?”

“Like, I didn’t— Well I did— But I like—” He puts his fork down, “I saw you as competition.”

You don’t know what to say, and so he keeps going. “I saw you like… Like being so perfect at everything, and being so… Being so what everyone needed, and you being there, and and— I felt so… the way you can just do that— Like— Like you can just be you and it just works. And I just fucking can’t.”

A talent you share with his brother. A talent Carmen envied in Mikey, and thus, envies in you.

“And then I got so… weird about that thought. Like you being you is— You’re for everyone. And I got this idea in my head that…” He cringes, trying to find better wording in his head for it, and he can’t. “That you were for me.”

“But you’re not for me—” “Ouch.” “—Not what I meant.”

He thanks you, internally, for being willing to add levity, right now. “I lo— I like you, so much. And I don’t want you to change. If you were like…” He half gestures to himself, which you’re not a big fan of the deprecation, but you let it slide. “Cold, and not for anyone, you wouldn’t be… you.”

Carmen realized as much, watching you tonight. Watching you interact with full strangers to long time friends. If you were callus, you wouldn’t be you. If you didn’t love his family as much as he did, he wouldn’t have attached himself to you, so quickly. He loves the way that you love. The way that you can’t turn it off. It’s not that Carmen isn’t special. It’s that you are so fucking special. He’s fucking stupid for not connecting those dots, earlier.

He picks up his fork again, needing to do something with his hands. Your brows remain furrowed, as you try to walk back how he spiraled from what and where. 

“So, you just wanted to take me down a peg?”

He shakes his head. “It— I— With Mikey, I— I saw some shit that made me think that I was just… fillin’ a gap, or you were just being so good to me out of like… Guilt.” He chews down on his salmon. “And I couldn’t find your fuckin’ invoice, so I just kept drilling into my head that I was just… Charity.”

“You’re not charity.” You’re quick to refute.

“You didn’t fail Mikey.” So is he.

Oh Christ. You nod, but you don’t believe it. “You weren’t wrong to say it.” You have to put your plate down. “I— I don’t see you like I saw Mikey, at all. But I do…” You trail off, just looking at him has you tearing up.

He leaves home so early. He comes home so late. He looks so tired. Gaunt. Has he been eating? Did he light his oven on fire again? Remember how he looked in the freezer. Remember how Mikey looked in the freezer? Remember how they are so so different. They are so different but you still can’t stop connecting every fragment and taking it as a sign and worrying so fucking much, so fucking paranoid—

“Do what?” He swallows his last bite of chicken, and you can’t stop looking at him and fuck you just can’t hold it back, this time. You were doing so good about this. This isn’t even the point of the conversation— Well, kind of. Just breathe.

As your eyes begin to water, he sets his plate aside on the floor, reaching out immediately, worried, immediately. He pauses, hand floating in the air. Hesitating. “Fuck—Can I?”

Eyes barely open, you nod. He’s quick to take your plate from your hands, set it aside, and hug you there. It’s awkward, underneath a bar counter, half sitting, half crouching, grappling you. Carmen does not wish to be anywhere else.  

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and babble, unable to hold back a fear that’s been long standing, since the day you met him.

“Sometimes you remind me of Mikey so much and I get so scared and I just— Fuck, I just— Please don’t kill yourself, Carmen.” His arms wrap around just a bit tighter, as do yours. “I know that’s selfish—”

“It’s not.” Mumbled, to your neck. Skin to skin isn’t really the focal point, here, but there is a lurking part of his subconscious fearing that he will never be able to hug you like this, again. Never be your rock. “I won’t.”

It’s silent, for a minute. You believe him. He holds you there, and you believe him.

“Why did you think all that? That you were filler?” You pull back, just a bit, to look at his face. “Did I do something to make you feel like that?”

“No— God no. You’re—” He swallows. It feels stupid now, to even say how his fucking tantrum started, you had it so much worse, in your head. Why didn’t you tell him? “I was looking for your invoice, and—”

“I forgot the booths, by the way.” You recall the shoddy invoice you wrote. It’s a stupid time to interrupt, but as you slowly grow more comfortable, inches from his face, it feels like the time to be stupid. “And taxes. I owe you something more like eighteen-seventy.”

“You don’t owe me shit.”

“I’m paying back a Berzatto, somehow.”

“Where’d that money come from?”

“Where’d your tirade come from?”

He swallows again, getting back to the point. “I found a folder. Called ice chips, or something like that— But it wasn’t for ice. It was, for you.”

You look at him, genuinely perplexed for a second. Then you get it. And it makes a lot more sense, why Carmen knows you failed Mikey—Try as he might to deny it. “Oh… You found my Ice folder.”

“Fuck’s that mean?” You’re glad, honestly, that he’s never had a reason to learn what it means. It’s fair. You had to teach it to Mikey, too.

“Ice. I-C-E, Carmen. It’s an acronym.” You spell it out, slow. “In Case of Emergency. I-C-E.”

It knocks the wind out of him, immediately. He’s extra glad he’s holding onto you, because he’s starting to feel untethered. “What?”

You nod. It’s time to walk him through it. You have to tell him. “I made Mikey keep some sort of emergency stuff as a fail-safe, for when he forgot people wanted him alive.” When Carmen’s quiet, you continue. “I was in his work cabinet, I think Richie was in his bedside, you and Sug were in his wallet.”

His stomach lurches, at the idea of being the emergency his brother always had on him. “You knew he was suicidal?”

Who didn’t? You think, but don’t say, because that’s not fair. Mikey cut him out, how could he know?

“Everyone’s suicidal, when they’re trying to get sober.”

“What?”

“What?” You parrot back. It’s both your turns, to squint at the other, confused beyond belief now. How is he confused? You’re first to ask. “Carmen, what was in my ice folder?”

“Anniver— Oh my fucking God.” He unwraps himself from you, because he’s frankly too ashamed to touch you, realizing everything he misunderstood. “Oh, my fucking God.”

You let him go, though you don’t particularly want to. He’s probably realizing he’s hugging the enemy. 

“Carmen—?” “You didn’t fucking date Mikey.”

“What?!” You jump, your head hits the bottom of the base of the bar’s sink. “Fuck! Ow, no— What?!”

It’s a mess of limbs and emotions, as he grabs your head haphazardly, seeing if you’re hurt— It honestly hurts more, to be pulled around like this. “Are you o—” You don’t let him finish, grabbing at his wrists, ignoring your sore head.

“You thought I’d fuck your brother and then—What— try to fuckin’ get the whole set?” You’re cringing at the thought. This had just never come up in your mind. You would’ve set him straight, if it did. It was way worse in his head. Why didn’t he tell you? “I— Carmy, babydoll, are you fucking insane?”

You say nice pet names, when you’re perplexed. You’ve got a pattern of doing so. He also has no comeback for this, completely mum. You release his wrists. You add, again, aghast. “How old do you think I am?”

“Ah— As old as Syd?” “Correct.” “So, twenty-eight?”

“Turning, but yeah.” You nod, like a teacher walking him through a problem. “And how old was Mikey?”

“Forty something.” “Forty-three.” “No one remembers their brothers’ age—” “Sixteen years. Carmen.”

You press your hands over your eyes. “And listen, I get at a point age is just a number but I was twenty-five when I met him and he was already fucking forty— I grew up with Muppet Babies and he grew up with Muppets. Period end of sentence.”

You sigh. This situation isn’t funny at all, but you feel a load lighten off of you significantly. And also the situation is extremely funny. It’s hard to be mad at someone this thrown off. 

“It’s just— Listen, do I think Mikey’s hot? Absolutely—”

“Alright—” He cringes, putting a hand in the air, asking you to lay off this train of thought.

“Oh, what do you want me to say ‘your genetic make-up fucking sucks actually’? No, you have a hot family, Carmen.”

“Say this in any other way but this one.”

“I did not date your brother, Carmen.” You finalize, he breathes lighter. “Think about it for like more than two seconds. Richie would’ve fuckin’ run his mouth about it immediately— Would’ve said you’re getting sloppy seconds or call me a fuckin’ homie hopper—”

“I did think that he’d say that, yeah.”

“Well fuckin’ think harder on it, next time—” “Well, what about the joint bank account?”

The most romantic paperwork he’d ever seen. It makes you pause, and Carmen’s considers a universe where you’re just the most incredible pathological liar in existence. 

“I made him make it.” You finally say, saddened just thinking about the failsafe that didn’t fucking work. “I didn’t put any money in it.”

“Why’d you want it, then?” The idea of you dating his brother quiets in his head, now he just wants to listen.

“So I could keep track of his spending and withdrawals.” You pick up your fork and twirl it around, like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Need something to do with your hands. “Mostly his withdrawals.”

Carmen thinks about it, trying to tie together the red strings in his head without asking you first. “So you could see if he was buying.”

“If he knew he was being watched, he was less inclined to deal.” You shrug and nod. “Plus I wanted him to get into the habit of keeping savings.”

“Lotta good that did.” Carmen can’t help but laugh, pitifully, at that. “Everythin’ got claimed, when he kicked it.”

You shake your head, you tuck your knees to your chest. “Not everything.”

He just looks at you, curious, waiting for you to explain. Mikey had so much credit card debt— Everything he had outside of fucking tomato cans was claimed. 

You shrug. “Not the accounts he wasn’t sole proprietor on.”

Joint bank account. It was partially your money, technically. It deferred to you. Carmen’s head just falls over, another painful realization of another thing you did, that he got completely wrong. You never gave Mikey a cent. You just gave him the protection of your name and credit score.

“Why’d you do all that, for him?”

Holy shit, he doesn’t know. Carmen doesn’t actually know you killed Mikey. You live in a world, still, where Carmen doesn’t completely rightfully blame you. You tap your fingers on your knees. Staring aimlessly. There is nothing else to do.

“Anyone ever tell you why I get called Chip?”

“I asked Richie. Said to ask you.” Carmen shakes his head, he’s a bit sick of himself, for being almost excited to get an answer about this. “Said it was personal.”

You squint and snort. “Since when does Richie give a fuck about personal?”

Carmen smiles, finally, and tucks his knees to his chest to mimic you. “Since me, I guess.”

“Good influence.” You smile, trying to distract from the nervousness, thrumming hard in your chest. Spit collects in your throat like it’s trying to choke you. “I uhm… Chippy is, uh, Mikey started calling me Chip or Chippy cause of uhm—”

You take a moment, one deep breath. A breath of air in the world before Carmen knows. A sanctimonious breath.

You pull at the long black rope chain on your neck, pulling it out from underneath your top, where it’s always been safely tucked. Not hidden necessarily, just always close to your chest. Close to your heart.

“It’s a joke, about— It’s like—”

Just do it, Chip. Let it rip.

“It’s—”

You hold out your fist for him to put his hand out and take it. Carmen gets the point and holds his palm out. You press the pendant into his hand. Holding your hand over it, for a moment, as if you could decide now that actually he shouldn’t be allowed to see this. Like there’s still an escape option, somehow.

You move your hand, you try to speak calmly, as he stares. And the text on the large round pendant stares back at him.

To Thine Own Self Be True.

“Sobriety chip.” Unity, Service, Recovery.

A proud and large 3 months, in the middle of the triangle, leers back at Carmen.

“I was— I was Mikey’s sponsor.”

Now y'all in my asks see why I was waiting, eh?

Ya caught on! Well, after thinking collectively, ya caught on. Some of you got it quick. Anyways, I shouldn't be talking about this like it's some gotcha, it's deeply painful.

A lot of hard confirmations! Fuck! This conversation was so hard to navigate, because I was like-- There's just so much for them to catch up on, and so they keep like moving forward and so I was like wait I have to go back and address this-- No. That's not how most real convos like this work, they just keep running forward, they can clarify later. Such a weird brain challenge. I was tweaking. I hope it's sensical to read? If it's not, dw, i'll walk into the sea about it.

Can you believe this chapter began with Syd/Chip/Richie? Absolutely bonkers. We started with getting ready in a hotel/taking a flight. We were so young, then. I've gotta go watch season 3, so don't send me spoilers, but please send me literally any and all thoughts about this chapter. I really fuckin-- Rah.

I'm happy with this chapter and I honestly think I will probably make a separate post sometime this week showing bits you might've missed-- So much of this was me harkening back to those first three chapters. I went back and reread them recently and I was like woah. I don't know how I did the thing where the writing style felt distant and slowly became close as they became close as characters, but I did feel like that was a thing. In the early chapters. Having to recreate that distant feeling here? Oh fuck. Brutalizing feeling.

Oh but on the more cute side, if you also see Tony as Desi, I was thinkin like a lehenga style blouse with all the work, and like, some black flared pants? and she's got big fuckin jhumkas, OF COURSE!!! OF COURSE BRO!!! But I just left it at semi-cultural so everyone could have fun, hehehe

I feel almost certain, someone's gonna be missing from this tag list, and for that, a thousand pardons, I am gonna put it in my notes app so I don't forget next time, mbmbmb, also added people that did not ask but you are so frequent that i feel like you're just forgetting to ask? idk if you wanna get taken off always just ask dw

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @sharkluver @fridavacado @hoetel-manager @mrs-perfectly-fine

anyways, if you wanna be added send me your thoughts/analysis/diagnosis at length + ask to be added and i will ! try! sometimes they get lost and i am sorry abt that but i do try!

Next Part

[paradiseismine]

Finn Wolfhard Headcanons

Pairing: Finn Wolfhard x f!reader

Warnings: a bit of fluff + lots of smut (but mostly soft smut, cause Finn is a gentleman)

Love note from Nina: I’ve just started this side blog due to the recent lack of new Finn smut content on here. Basically, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Requests are open and I’ll write for all of Finn’s characters (and Finn himself, duh), except for Richie. I hope you all like it, I can also take constructive criticism quite well (English is not my first language) :) anyways:

Fluff

- Finn Wolfhard was definitely born in the wrong era: you couldn’t believe that one of gen Z’s most prominent stars would simply love to show off some old timey chivalry.

- Whenever he’s going to drive you somewhere, he always gets out of his car, walks around it and opens the car door for you. When you reach the destination of each drive, he does the same thing, but also offers his hand to help you stand up.

- If he takes you to a restaurant, he’s also going to pull up your chair so you can sit - and, for God’s sake, you’re not even touching that bill. It’s always his treat. He just wants to make his girl happy, and you must let him, of course.

- Despite fame and all it includes, Finn is not hesitant in holding your hand or having his arm around your waist in public - as long as you’re okay with it. He loves to show you off, he’s so proud to have you as his girlfriend. Everyone around you must know that.

- Being a rising star, your schedules don’t always match perfectly, so he’s bound to spend a few weeks away every once in a while to film/direct something. That being said, one of his main love languages is gift giving: he loves to bring you little presents from all his work trips - mostly small dainty jewelry, beautifully knitted sweaters and well, basically anything that made him think of you while he was away.

Smut

- Whenever he gets back from a work trip, you already know what to expect: being showered in gifts and physical touch. He missed you a lot and you must know how much he did.

- Neck kisses are a must. Finn knows the exact spot that makes your knees buckle, and he’s not afraid to use that knowledge in his favor.

- There’s usually lots of whispering in your ear about how much he missed you, how good you smell, how smooth and perfect your skin is. Your earlobes are also getting plenty of nibbles and gentle sucking. He’s all about those pretty moans he gets out of your lips.

- When it comes to taking clothes off, Finn is always subtle and delicate. His fingers lightly trace your dress’ thin straps and pull them down slowly, giving you plenty of time to stop him if you want - but you’re always as hungry for him as he is for you.

- Each little piece of newly exposed skin gets its round of kisses and gentle touching. Finn worships your body and your soul more than anything else in the world. He wants you to know how much he appreciates you, he wants to make you feel safe in his arms at all times.

- When the time comes, Finn loves to eat your pussy. He loves the smell, the taste, the texture, everything. The way you shiver under his touch, hissing and squirming, always gets him hard in a split second. His big warm hands know their way both around and inside you: the perfect speed, pressure and angle. That boy is sure to make you cum and suck off his own fingers afterwards - you taste so good he can’t get enough.

- Finn’s a gentleman, of course, so he takes the “ladies first” thing quite seriously. If you haven’t already cum at least three times, your pussy is not soaking wet and you’re not begging him to enter you, you’re not ready for him yet. He takes his sweet time driving you crazy before claiming you.

- As he lines up with your sweet entrance, he always always always looks you in the eye and asks, his voice faint with lust “may I?” As desperate as he is to get engulfed by your delicious cunt, he still finds consent to be the hottest thing ever - and so do you.

- After he gets a verbal response (‘cause I swear that boy can be such a tease if you simply moan), he usually starts off gently, letting your body adjust to both his length and girth. His dick is so thick it still needs some patience and adjusting, even after all this time you’ve been together.

- He keeps his thrusts at a slow pace until you’re satisfied. Then, and only then, he speeds up and allows himself to release. Finn absolutely loves to spill into you, filling you up with warm ropes of his cum. You’re his and only his, and somehow, he feels as if cumming inside you is a way to show you that. To show you that he owns you.

- After you two come down from your highs, it’s all cuddles and pillow talk. Finn is mostly a big spoon, but won’t mind being a little spoon if you want him to.

- In the end, all he wants is to have you in his arms as long as possible, savoring the peace and the warmth he gets from feeling your heartbeat and your body touching his. You’re everything he’s ever wanted.

[nolita-fairytale]

Carmy as your Baby Daddy | Social Media AU & Headcanon Series | part seven

a/n: may write a 'carmy & you as parents' headcanon. may also add another cute graphic/social post, however, for now... this is it, folks! enjoy our darling dearest baby daddy au which is pretty much just leaked dms between me and @carmensberzattos.

part six | masterlist

your life with carmy and baby bear:

first, baby bear has so many different cutie little nicknames: jo, joey, joey-bear, phinnie, and richie's personal favorite: toni-bear.

since you have the privilege of going on maternity leave, you do a lot of the day to day heavy lifting while carmy is at the restaurant. while he's pulled back a little at the restaurant, you know that carmy needs a little chaos in his life to feel at ease.

you parents decide to come to chicago to help with the baby for a few weeks. while baby bear's nursery is all set up, you don't exactly have a guest room. you're in tears over changing the nursery into a guest room last minute, so carmy enlists both richie, fak, and pete to do the job so that you don't have to. sugar and syd decide to take you out for a girls' day at the spa, and when you come home, you can't believe those four idiots managed to pull it off. (do i need to write this oneshot because i think i need to write this oneshot)

the proverbial 'they' say it takes a village, and it sure as hell does. you feel so incredibly lucky to have a village that shows up: marcus organizes a meal train and is one of the first to come over and spend time with his goddaughter; sydney is more than happy to pop back into shifts at the bear every now and then, just to give carmy so reprieve; and tina is ALWAYS down to babysit if she's got the time.

ava, richie's daughter is obsessed with baby bear, and is so excited that she finally has some cousins to play with. "boys are gross" -- ava, about baby michael and why she likes baby bear more lmao.

some nights, when baby bear wakes up in the middle of the night, it's not technically his 'turn' but carmy insists on getting up to put baby bear back to sleep. one restless night of sleep, you wake up to the sound of him watching anthony bourdain's no reservations. when you bring it up later that morning, carmy confesses to you that it's the only thing that will get her back down because he used to turn it on when you fell asleep, instead of the classical music you insisted was better for the baby while you were pregnant with her. while you pretend to be upset, you usually thank carmy for getting up when it's 'not his turn' with morning head that you're more than happy to give him before he goes off to work.

you always have a go-to table when you and baby bear go visit daddy at the bear, and no matter what, he always makes it a point to come out and say hello to the both of you.

while the first few months you and carmy both survive on nothing but takeout, meal trains, and stuff carmy's brought home for the restaurant, he diligently meal preps week after week for baby bear by making her homemade baby food packs. "you sure you don't mind? we can always pick something up from the store, babe?" you ask him. "no, it's just like a puree. i got this."

on the days that you're purely exhausted and at your wit's end, you and sugar commiserate via text and sometimes facetime, because you're not sure how she's doing life with a new baby AND another baby on the way.

the night before you go back to work, you spend most of the evening sobbing because you're simultaneously ready and exhausted, while you can't imagine being away from baby bear either. but you go back on a hybrid schedule, two days in office, three at home, so it helps, even though it's still a huge adjustment.

on the days that you are in office, carmy takes those days off, wanting to pull his weight as you guys go through this transition.

carmy is an amazing dad, something he wasn't sure he could be, considering he barely grew up with one. he's surprisingly patient and he's totally in love with baby bear. like the day she was born it broke his heart into pieces because it broke open an entirely different kind of love that he wasn't sure he was capable of.

even though it's hard work, you and carmy both agree that this is the best decision you've ever made together and carmy can't get over the idea of trying for another soon. "let me take a nap first, and then we can talk. unlike you, the rest of us can't survive on 30 mins of sleep, babe," you tease him.

okay hear me out: when baby bear is a toddler, the two of you love spending saturday mornings either going to the farmer's market, or picking up mochi donuts (think: the cute kinds with little animal faces) to bring back to the restaurant and share with daddy, even though he's slammed with brunch service. baby bear comes running into the restaurant on the sweetest, chubby little legs and richie, fully in his suit picks up her and spins her around while greeting her with her signature nickname: toni bear!

eventually, you and carmy move out of the apartment and start renting a house that you plan on renting for the long term. you're not entirely sure either of you want to be home owners yet, but you're anxious to get baby bear into the garden with you as soon as possible. baby bear spends the early spring planting fruits and veggies with mom, and the late spring/summer when they're ready to harvest in the kitchen with dad. neither of you have strong feelings about baby bear becoming a chef, but you do want her to understand the ritual and special place that food plays in your lives.

hosting big outdoor dinner parties for the whole framily. when she gets a little older, baby bear and baby michael run around while ava goes through her 'too cool for school' phase. any and everyone is invited, and for once, for both carmy and nat, it feels like being a berzatto isn't such a curse.

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

OMG PT 3 OF FLAMES PLS

HI! This will definitely get a part 4, so don't think I'm just leaving it up in the air haha. I hope you like it!

Flames - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader - Part 3

Summary: When Ethan gets out of the hospital and shows up at your door, you decided to give him the opportunity to earn your trust back.

Part 1, Part 2

Contains: mom!reader, mentions of things that you do when you have a baby(such as breast feeding and diaper changing), Ethan's struggles with mental health, mentions of homelessness, angst, and a few moments of fluff sprinkled in as Ethan tries to learn how to be a dad. If I missed anything, let me know:)

A/N: I love this little series that myself and the original requester (@l3ndryz) have come up with. This is definitely a little dark, but the story will get a little happier as I write it.

*I'm going to tie up loose ends to other series' I previously started and lost inspiration for soon, I promise 💕*

When you heard the words “Is that your baby?” you didn’t know how to respond. As your heart started to race, part of you felt like you were going into shock. You were quickly pulled out of it when River started to cry.

“It’s okay, baby,” you said, bouncing her as you looked back up to Ethan. “I don’t know what to say to you.”

“What do you mean? Is she…is she mine?” he asked, the fear in his voice obvious.

“Plan B doesn’t work if you’re ovulating, apparently,” you sighed, looking back down at the baby, smiling as she dozed back off.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his eyes trying to read yours in hopes of understanding, “Did you know before you left New York?”

“Yes,” you said, coldly. He looked like he was about to cry.

“You knew and didn’t tell me? That is so fucked up,” he said, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

“No, what’s fucked up is that you and your twisted little family decided to kill people,” you snapped, “I didn’t know that Quinn was your sister. I didn’t know that Detective Bailey was your dad. And I sure as shit didn’t know that Richie, the one that chased me around the house with a knife before Amber stabbed me, was your fucking brother. I don’t even know who you are!”

“Baby, please let me explain,” he said, your eyes getting dark in rage.

“Don’t call me that. We’re done,” you started to shut the door again, as he begged from the other side.

“Please hear me out…I have no where else to go. I was hoping the one person that I love more than anything would at least try to understand,” he sobbed, as you opened the door again. There were so many things running through your head. You needed to make sure your daughter was safe, but that little voice inside your head was screaming for you to at least talk to him.

“Do you have any knives on you? Guns? Anything that could harm me and your daughter?” you asked, as he shook his head. “Come in.”

You placed your daughter in the bassinet as Ethan watched you, so sad that he’s missed out on this experience.

“We can talk, but you have to be quiet. She hasn’t been sleeping well the last few days,” you sighed, knowing that your shirt with spit-up on it and your hair that hadn’t been washed in days probably gave that away.

“I don’t know how to start,” he said, laughing a little.

“I don’t think this is funny,” you said, your eyes connecting with his.

“It’s not...Dad wanted revenge for Richie…and I couldn’t just not help,” he sighed, as you looked at him to continue, “But at the end, after you left, I wanted to stop it.”

“So why didn’t you?” you questioned, as Ethan started to fidget with his fingers.

“Quinn stabbed me when I was about to,” he sighed, looking over to the baby, “I really wish you would’ve told me.”

“I couldn’t. After Amber I had this gut feeling that you had something to do with it. As bad as I didn’t want to believe it, it was always on my mind,” you said, staring at the floor as you thought back to Mindy’s accusations.

“I know you don’t trust me…you have a good reason not to. But I don’t want to miss out on this baby’s life,” he said, his voice cracking as he spoke.

“Ethan,” you paused, trying to think of the right words, “I don’t know how to let you be a part of her life. You hurt me so badly, and I’m not sure how to move past that.”

“Can you at least let me try to prove to you that I’m okay?” he asked, “I was in the hospital for a long time. I’m going to start therapy out here, too. Please just give me that chance.”

You sat there thinking for a few minutes. You didn’t want to say yes, but you didn’t want to say no either.

“When you said you had nowhere to go, what did you mean?” you asked, avoiding answering until you knew.

“I mean no one wants me…All of my family wants nothing to do with me. I can’t really blame them, though.”

“If you stay here, can I trust you?” you asked, as he nodded. “This doesn’t mean that we’re okay. I will give you the chance to be around her, but you won’t be left alone with her.”

“Okay, thank you,” he said, looking back over to the baby, “Can I hold her?”

“No, not yet. You need to prove yourself to me,” you said, as you started to walk into the kitchen.

“Can she be left alone?” he asked as he followed you, panicking at the idea of it.

“She can for a minute. She’s swaddled and in a safe place,” you smiled, walking over to the sink. “I want you to clean these.” You said, pointing to the bottles sitting on the counter beside the sink.

“How do I do that?” he asked, making you roll your eyes.

“Okay, let’s start with the basics,” you sighed, “This is a bottle brush. This little thing on the end unscrews and you clean the nipple part of the bottles with it. I want you to use the baby dish detergent in the pink bottle. After that, you’re going to put them in the sterilizer.”

“I think I can do that,” he said, moving in front of the sink.

“Do I need to take the knives out of here? Or can you be trusted?” your snarky tone and the accusations were starting to trigger all the things his psychiatrist warned him about. He ran through all the steps in his head as he tried to calm down, before speaking.

“I know I’ve done things to break your trust, but you’re going to have to let me prove to you that I’m not the monster you think I am. Please stop mentioning the knife stuff.”

“Okay,” you gave a half-smile, leaving him to clean the bottles as you went back to your daughter.

After twenty minutes, she started to wake up. You recognized her cry as a hungry one, so you picked her up and lifted your shirt. You adjusted so she was able to latch when Ethan walked back in the room.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, turning his back to you. “I finished the bottles, they’re in the sterilizer.”

“Quit acting weird, this is natural. It’s not like you haven’t seen my boobs before,” you laughed a little, as he turned around.

“So you do both? You bottle feed and breast feed?” he asked, watching you feed her.

“Yeah. After doing this so many times, your nipples start to hurt,” you groaned, “Like right now.”

“I wish there was something I could do to help.”

“You just did. You cleaned the bottles I haven’t had the chance to get to the last couple days.”

He smiled, happy that he did something to be helpful. Once she started to turn away because she was full, you pulled your shirt back down and looked over to Ethan.

“Come here,” you said, as walked over and sat down beside you. “I’m going to show you how to hold her.”

As he positioned his arms, you passed the baby to him.

“She’s perfect,” he said, finally getting a good look at her tiny little features. “What’s her name?”

“River Judith Landry,” you said, as he started to grin.

“You gave her my last name?” he asked, looking back down at her. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

“You are her dad.”

Ethan held her for a while, getting tired himself as he started to drift off.

“Hey,” you said, gently scooping her out of his arms, “Never fall asleep with her in your arms.”

He looked sad as you pulled her away but understood why. You put her back in the bassinet before sitting beside Ethan.

“We need to talk about sleeping arrangements,” you said, looking over at his tired expression. “I don’t know how my parents will feel about this…but they tend to be cool with things so we should be fine. I didn’t go into detail about what happened with you,” he nodded as he waited for you to continue, “We have a guest bedroom beside mine. You can sleep in there while we figure everything out.”

“Okay, I appreciate you giving me a chance,” he said, yawning as relaxed into the couch.

“Please don’t make me regret it,” you sighed, “I have another bassinet in my room that she sleeps in right now, at least until she’s a little older. She’ll be up every few hours tonight, if you wake up and want to come help, you can.”

 “I’d love to,” he mumbled, as he started to fall asleep.

As Ethan slept, the light snores slipping past his lips reminded you of all the nights you’d fallen asleep on his chest when he’d stay over. You couldn’t help but wonder how life could’ve been so different had he not gone along with his dad’s plan. You weren’t sure if he was behind any of the actual murders that happened, but when you thought back to the night at the apartment, you realized that had to be him. Why else would someone completely go around you, then lock the door the second you ran out of it? You wanted to ask, but you didn’t want to know at the same time. You weren’t sure if he’d tell you the truth, and the last thing you needed was for him to start lying. You knew how you’d react, and until you had a better understanding of his mental health, you pushed your thoughts to the back of your mind.

“Hey,” you said, gently nudging Ethan, “My mom’s home. I want you to come meet her.”

He rubbed his eyes as he tried to wake up, “Okay.”

As your mom came in through the garage door, you led Ethan through the kitchen to the dining room.

“Hey, mom,” you said, a smile on her face as she introduced herself to your guest.

“I’m Ethan,” he said, shaking her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, sitting the groceries down on the table.

“I hope you don’t mind, but he’s going to stay with us for a little while,” you said, searching her face for any negative reaction to the situation.

“Okay, you’ve had so many friends here lately…I’ve gotten used to having a full house,” she laughed, “What do you want for dinner?”

“Honestly, I’m okay with anything,” you said looking over to Ethan.

“Yeah, I’m fine with whatever,” he said, as River started to coo in the other room.

“Someone’s awake,” you smiled, the excitement in your voice as you headed back to the living room. Ethan was right behind you, determined not to miss out on another second of time with her.

“She really doesn’t know anything?” he asked, as you picked the baby up.

“Shhh, she’s going to think I’m fucking nuts if she finds out you had anything to do with what happened in New York.”

“Okay,” he said, “Is she like, awake? Like she’s not going to instantly fall back asleep?”

“Not for a little bit. These moments only happen a few times a day, so I like to enjoy it,” you said, laying her down on the couch as you crouched beside it.

Ethan watched you play with her hands and make goofy little noises at the little sounds she’d make. He never expected to come to your house and see a baby in your arms. He thought it was the end of the road for him, especially if you didn’t give him a chance. He wasn’t sure what he had to live for, but within a matter of hours his whole outlook on everything changed.

“The new baby smell is the best thing ever,” you said, sniffing the top of her head. “You want to play with her?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea…I don’t want to hurt her,” he said, as you nodded.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”

She soon started to drift off to sleep again when your mom walked in to let you know that dinner would be ready soon.

“Look at my precious granddaughter,” she said, taking her from you. “It’s crazy how fast they grow up. Before you know it, she’ll be a teenager.”

“You’ve only told me that every day since she was born,” you said sarcastically, as she handed her to you to head back to the kitchen.

“I say it so much because it’s true,” she sighed, “I’m so proud of you. Doing all of this on your own isn’t easy, but you’re doing such a good job with her.”

Ethan started to feel guilty as she spoke. As badly as he wanted to tell her that you wouldn’t have to do this by yourself anymore, he didn’t know if that was true. Yeah, you’re giving him a chance, but he was terrified that you’d rip his chance away if he did the slightest thing to fuck up. The only thing he could hope for was that you would realize he was the same person you fell in love with, regardless of all the lies he told. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he was determined to get you back and have a life with his daughter.

As you sat at the dinner table across from Ethan, you started to notice how hungry he was, but he wasn’t trying to show it. You were wondering when the last time he ate was; or maybe this was the best thing he’d eaten in a long time. When his eyes connected with yours, he started to chew a little slower as you offered a sad smile.

“So, your dad will be out of town the next couple days,” your mom said, “And I’ll be working late the rest of this week, but Chad and Tara are coming back tomorrow, right?”

Ethan’s eyes widened at the mention of their names. He was trying to get in your good graces, but he started to feel like everything would all fall apart the second they saw him with you.

“Yeah, Mindy might come over, too,” you said, taking a bite of your food.

“I’m so happy they help you out. Chad is so protective of that baby girl,” she said, as Ethan started to feel jealous, “and he did so much to help you out before the baby was born.”

“They’re really good friends,” you smiled, looking back over to Ethan. You could tell he was in his feelings at your mom’s words. “Ethan’s going to be really helpful with her, too.”

He flashed you a weak smile when his eyes met yours.

“It does take a village to raise a baby,” she said, smiling at him.

After dinner, you noticed that the baby’s diaper needed to be changed. Ethan followed you upstairs to the nursery as you started to laugh to yourself, wondering how he’d react to the diaper changing part of parenthood.

“You want to take notes?” you asked, as you laid her on the changing table and started to undress her.

“Oh, uh…I…” he stammered, as you looked over to him.

“You’re eventually going to have to do this if you want the full parenting experience,” you laughed, “Shit, I forgot to refill the diapers earlier. There’s a box of them in her closet that’s open, can you grab a stack out of it for me?”

“Yeah,” he said, feeling confident in his ability to at least help with that. He handed you several diapers as you refilled the little cubby on the changing table.

He watched you take the diaper off, almost gagging at the sight. “Don’t freak out, you’ll get used to it,” you said, trying to assure him.

“That smells awful,” he said, stepping away for a second.

“Again…you’ll get used to it,” you laughed, as you got her cleaned up. “Okay, it’s so important for you to pay attention to stuff like this,” you said, drawing his attention back over. “She’s getting a little diaper rash, and if I don’t put the cream on her now, it’ll get worse. It can be painful for her, so that’s just something you have to look out for, okay?”

“Is she in pain now?” he asked, looking at her as she started to coo and kick her feet.

“No, she’s okay,” you said before talking to River. “Quit trying to kick me,” you said in a soft voice, as she started to coo a little louder. “Don’t be mean to mommy.”

He smiled as you finished changing the diaper, your maternal instincts radiating off you. Ethan was in love with you before the baby but seeing you like this made him fall so much harder.

“You’re a good mom,” Ethan said, as you turned to look at him. “She’s lucky she has you.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, “It’s crazy…I went from being this college kid that wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life, to being a mom. If you would’ve told me a year ago that this was how my life was going to be, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

As the night started to wind down and River was asleep once again, you walked into the room beside yours to Ethan.

“Hey, I know you didn’t come here with much…what do you need?” you asked, taking a seat at the foot of the bed.

“Oh, um…I’ll figure it out.”

“I didn’t ask you to figure it out. I asked you to tell me what you needed,” you said sternly, as he nodded. “Do you have all the hygiene products you need?”

“God, this is so fucking embarrassing,” he sighed, looking over to you. “I’ve kind of been homeless the last few weeks since I got out of the hospital. I had a bunch of stuff, but someone stole it yesterday.”

You frowned at his words. The idea of the father of your child on the streets made you feel sick.

“Come with me,” you said, leading him to the bathroom. “Chad showers here a lot because he’s always getting spit up on. He’s her puke target almost always,” you said, laughing a little, “He has this three-in-one body wash. I don’t know how you guys do that because I need like, five different products when I shower. But there’s clean towels in this cabinet, and I have extra toothbrushes in this drawer.”

Ethan had a few things running through his mind. He couldn’t believe you were being so sweet when you hated him earlier in the day, but he also couldn’t shake the sadness of the idea of Chad being so close to you and your daughter.

“Chad’s still with Tara, right?” he asked, trying to play it as cool as possible. You saw right through it, knowing he was asking because he was scared that another man was taking his place.

“Yeah…Ethan, I don’t want you to feel discouraged to build a relationship with your daughter because Chad’s helped a lot. He’s not her dad, you are. I’m trying to give you this chance, but I need you to not get jealous or angry when you see him with her.”

“Okay,” he said, his gaze not leaving from the floor. “I’ll try to get used to it.”

You smiled at him, before thinking about what else he needed. “Oh shit, clothes! Do you have those?”

He nodded, before realizing he hadn’t had a chance to wash what he does have. You noticed the look on his face, “Hang on a second.”

You ran to your room and searched for some things for him to wear, and when you made it back to the bathroom, he felt like he could cry when he saw what you had.

“Is that my sweatpants and shirt that I gave you?” he asked, “I can’t believe you still have these.”

“When we didn’t get to see each other much because of exams, you gave them to me to wear when I was missing you a little extra than usual,” you smiled, “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still wear them all the time.”

You walked out of the bathroom before he could respond, knowing that you’d just expressed to him that you had missed him while he was gone. He smiled to himself as he cut on the shower and stepped inside.

As you heard the shower running faintly down the hall, you started to wonder how your friends would react to Ethan being back in your life. You knew Chad would really be hurt because he felt so fucked over by Ethan. The two of you were the ones that struggled the most after you found out your boyfriend was Ghostface. He defended Ethan to Mindy countless times until the night that Anika died, and even started to trust him again before everything happened at the theater. He felt so deceived; he had a good reason for feeling that way.

Then you started to think about all the things Ethan had been through. He was manipulated into helping his dad, stabbed and left for dead by his own sister, spent several months in a psychiatric hospital, and experienced homelessness before he showed up at your front door. Your heart broke for him, but you still needed to work on trying to build up that trust, if that was even possible.

When you heard the shower cut off, Ethan popped into your room shortly after in his clothes that you gave him.

“Sorry I didn’t have boxers or anything. Maybe we can go shopping tomorrow to get some of the stuff you need. And we can get the laundry that you do have taken care of.”

“I can’t believe you’re being so sweet to me after everything,” he said, watching River as she slept in the bassinet.

You sighed, smiling as you watched him look at her in awe, “We’ve both been through a lot. I might not be able to trust you right this second, but I believe that you loving me was never a lie, and I can tell you really want this chance to try to make things right. I’m willing to try for her, but the second you give me a reason to doubt your intentions, or you make me uncomfortable, that’s it. No more chances.”

“I promise you that I won’t give you any reason to not trust me. I know you’re probably a little scared, too. The meds I take helps a ton, but I do still have moments where I struggle. I just hope you can be patient with me and try to understand. You don’t owe me shit, but I want you to know that I’m genuine about all of this.”

You nodded at his words, before he stood up to go to the other room. “Goodnight,” he mumbled, before stopping to take one last look at his daughter before walking out.

“Hey,” you said, as he’d just made it past the doorway. He turned back around to face you. “I know I mentioned this earlier, but if she wakes you up with her crying tonight, I’d really appreciate the help if you want to.”

“Of course. I’ll do anything I can to get extra time with her,” he smiled.

“No pressure, though. I know you haven’t slept well lately, so I completely understand if you just want to sleep.”

“No, I’ll wake up. I’ll see you soon, I guess,” he laughed a little, walking into the room next to yours.

[lumxnari]

i'm re-watching buzzfeed unsolved: supernatural and i cannot stop thinking of reddie as ryan and shane— i just, omg, can you imagine tho?

if you guys have been into buzzfeed unsolved before, like legit in the fandom, you would know there's a popular trope (it used to be a conspiracy, not it's just a trope lol) where they say the reason ryan cannot like, get any evidence of the supernatural is because of shane, who is secretly a demon disguised as a skeptic human.

so imagine, in reddie, where richie is shane and ryan is eddie? demon richie purposely scaring demons and ghosts away to protect eddie and keep him oblivious from the world of supernatural?

or vice-versa? but more like eddie is a demon pretending to be so scared of the supernatural and pretending he is not finding evidence so that he can prevent skeptic richie from getting harmed as him not believing into these stuff is actually protecting him ( a bit— eddie had to do so many things to protect richie whenever he provokes the demons and spirits during their filming )

huh, i kinda wanna write this now. which one tho?

[jo-harrington]

Freaky Friday - A Stranger Things Story (Part 4)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Word Count: 13.8k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, Eddie and Steve (Enemies to Friends)

Summary: Eddie thinks that Steve has everything in life handed to him on a silver platter (including his new girlfriend who Eddie has a crush on). And Steve just can't believe that the kids look up to Eddie the Freak, or that he lives his life without giving a single fuck.

Must be nice. But you know what they say, the grass is always greener.

Warnings/Themes: AU with no Upside Down. Angst, body swapping, dark magic/alchemy, unrequited love, mutual pining, fatphobia (if you squint?), Babysitter Steve, unresolved feelings, manipulation/deception, Things That Require Communication (Too Bad There Isn't Any), Reader gets a nickname (Honey), no Y/N if I can help it, brief mention of suicide, self hatred, loss of identity, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, dry humping

Note: Ok this one...took a while. And after 3 rewrites and me coming to a 3 am epiphany that I'm a better writer than I give myself credit for, here we are. Shout out to @ghost-proofbaby @trashmouth-richie @br0ck-eddie @big-ope-vibes and I'm sure a lot of other people for getting me through this. My computer is currently running like a potato and doesn't want me to add more to this text post.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

"What do you guys think he's doing?"

"He seems pretty focused. New lyrics?"

"Nah, he has to be planning something really messed up for Friday's session."

"Or, instead of lurking around and gossiping like old biddies," Steve raised his voice to add to the commentary. He glanced up from his notebook and passed an expectant look at the rest of Corroded Coffin as they hovered a few feet away, lunches in hand, hesitant to join him at the lunch table. "You could just ask. Now are you guys gonna just stand there looking like nerf herders or are you gonna sit?"

The boys immediately jumped and shuffled to the table to take their seats.

"Uh, so...Eddie," Jeff began hesitantly as worked on the latch of his lunchbox. "What, uh, are you writing?"

"Miller wants an essay about the Constitution," Steve explained and scratched his forehead with the worn-down eraser of his pencil.

"Oh shit, and it's due today?" Dave went wide-eyed.

"Nah, not til next week," Steve shrugged, and then looked up to see the dumbstruck expressions on Eddie's friends' faces. "What?"

"You're...doing homework that's due next week?" Gareth laughed. "Who are you and what've you done with Eddie?" The other boys chuckled and Steve couldn't help but crack a secret smile.

If they only knew.

It was another hour, another day, another week in the body of Eddie Munson.

For the most part it had been bearable, and Steve wondered if it was actually getting easier or he was just getting used to it. He really hadn't realized how many plates Eddie kept spinning though, and when he initially questioned how Eddie continued to fail senior year...well he quickly changed his tune.

On top of the Hellfire Club, Corroded Coffin gigs and practices, and the endless parties that he seemed to be invited to deal at, he seemed to take care of everyone.

He made sure the kids and the guys were all protected from bullies, which meant Steve had to perpetuate the whole Satanic facade--he was getting pretty good at the devil horns and tongue. The money he made dealing immediately got split between various stashes around the trailer, then his and Wayne's wallets, which made Steve extremely guilty about the allowance his mother bribed him with gave him. And if that wasn't enough, Eddie was the one who shopped and made meals for Wayne and, surprisingly, Reefer Rick.

Steve had only seen Rick a handful of times over the years before Eddie had taken over as the designated dealer at all the high school and college parties. More recently, Rick would only make a trip into Hawkins to stop by the VFW and then swing by Family Video. He never questioned why...and he almost felt ashamed that he never did before now.

He got too hung up on rumors and jokes. About Rick. And about Eddie.

Steve had promised to play the part though, and he did...but it was really starting to wear him out.

Still...Steve figured that he would make the slightest bit of an effort on Eddie's school work. For all the glory days of high school that Steve had...he was getting pretty sick of Hawkins High. At the very least, he could help Eddie get out of here. And at the most, if he was stuck in Eddie's body forever...well, he didn't want to be a 50-year old high school senior.

Jeff and the guys had mocked Eddie's speech about flipping Higgins off during graduation...and damn if Steve wasn't going to make that happen, come hell or high water.

The younger boys finally took their seats at the table, Dustin practically bursting with frantic energy, as usual, and Mike extra glum.

"What's got you down Wheeler?" Steve asked, throwing a pretzel at Mike's head. "I know it's only Monday but..."

"Someone's keeping my birthday present a secret," Mike groused and Dustin rolled his eyes.

"Here we go. He's been complaining about it all day," he explained. "Lucas and I literally can't have a minute alone to discuss it."

"You know I hate secrets."

"And he tried to bribe Will."

The two of them squabbled back and forth and Steve grinned fondly.

He might've loathed the homework but he was glad he got to see the kids more. More still, he was...almost grateful that Eddie had been there to guide them through the minefield of the first few months of freshman year, since he couldn't.

"Alright, that's it. Shut up!" Steve finally shouted. "You're just gonna have to have a little patience, Wheeler. Just cuz your mommy still says you're special, doesn't mean everyone else is gonna let you walk all over them."

The guys all snickered and made quiet jabs and kissy noises at him, calling him Mama's Boy and the like, as Mike turned red.

"Shut up I don't--hey, how did you know about that?" he narrowed his eyes. Steve's eyebrows jumped in challenge and Mike backed down with a sigh. "Whatever. Fuck you guys...anyway, Eddie, my sister wants to talk to you," he announced in a bored tone.

Now that piqued Steve's interest; he sat up straight and glanced around the cafeteria for her.

As though he didn't know exactly where she and Jonathan Byers sat.

He felt his heart speed up when he met her eyes and she waved him over.

Steve had done his best over the last year-and-a-half to get over Nancy. He'd gone to prom solo, asked new girls out left and right...shit he'd even tried to get her back once or twice. Or at least get her to dump Jonathan. He wasn't entirely proud of it but...Robin had really been the one to set him straight.

He'd faced a lot of bitter realizations but he thought he'd been through the thick of it. Seeing Nancy in passing now and again at school though...well it wasn't doing anything to help that.

And now Nancy wanted to talk to Eddie? Why? They didn't have any classes together--she had practically all Advanced Placement classes and Eddie obviously didn't. Aside from his association with Mike, Nancy steered clear of Eddie.

As Steve got to his feet--ignoring Dustin's cry of "hey can you meet me in the library after school"--a laughable thought struck Steve.

First you had confessed your crush on Eddie. What if Nancy was next in line?

He faltered in his step as he made his way across the cafeteria.

Maybe it wasn't so laughable after all.

Since you had made that little confession to "Eddie," Steve had gotten half-the-idea in his head that...well Eddie wasn't that bad of a guy, what if he could find Eddie a girlfriend or something? He'd tried to ask out a few of the cheerleaders who had approached him about dealing at a party but was promptly laughed at.

And he wasn't gonna even bring up that one girl who was lingering in the theater department last Friday after school, as he went to set up for Hellfire with the kids. He was lucky she didn't just die of fright as he said hi.

What if the answer was Nancy all along?

It almost made him feel a little sick.

Except...

She liked...weird guys like Jonathan...and Eddie was certainly a weird kind of guy. And one of the things Nancy had liked about Steve had been his cool personality. Sure Eddie was sort of a loser...but she was popular now thanks to Steve...what if she liked the cool, bad boy and was getting bored of Jonathan.

As he continued on his journey he mentally calculated the distance between Will and Nancy. Their table was pretty packed--filled with their friends from Newspaper--and there was more distance between them than there had been between him and Nancy right before they broke up.

"Hey, uh, Byers, Wheeler," he greeted awkwardly and crossed his arms over his chest and devoted his attention to Nancy. "You wanted to talk?"

"Yeah can we..." she got to her feet and motioned toward the door.

Steve's heart pounded in his ears as he followed.

"Listen, Miss O'Donnell was a little worried about your grade and she asked if I could maybe...tutor you," Nancy explained, then paused pensively. "Actually, I asked her for a letter of recommendation for one of my applications and she said she would if I tutored you ahead of the midterm. Sorry. I-I do think she's really concerned about your progress though."

"I think the more accurate statement is that she doesn't wanna see my ugly mug in her class again next year," he joked and she gave him a tight-lipped, sympathetic smile.

"I didn't want to agree if you weren't open to it," Nancy sighed. "But I really need that letter. You'd...you'd really be my hero if you did this."

Steve stared at her for a moment, his thoughts racing at all the possibilities.

It didn't really sound like she was tempted to leave Jonathan in the first place but...that didn't mean he couldn't turn on the old Harrington charm. She had fallen for it once...maybe she enjoyed the charm just in a different package. And yeah, he had you waiting for him if he ever made it back to his body. But...if he didn't...

"Listen, I want out of here as much as the next person," Steve finally replied. "So, uh, I'm game if you are."

"Great!" Nancy placed a hand on his shoulder excitedly and Steve could practically feel the warmth of it despite the layers of denim and leather. "Uh...I have some free time after school today?"

Steve vaguely remembered Dustin wanting to meet him...he was sure it had something to do with the spell and he certainly didn't want Nancy to find out about that.

"I, uh, have a Hellfire thing," he lied. "How about Wednesday? I always study better with a few snacks. We can meet at Benny's? 5 o'clock?"

Nancy nodded and confirmed the time and place. She placed her hand on his shoulder again, then went back into the cafeteria.

It took a second, but Steve suddenly felt like all the wind was knocked out of him.

"Eddie" had a study date with Nancy on Wednesday.

He had a date with Nancy.

Eddie was halfway through his shift before anything exciting happened.

Sorry, halfway through Steve's shift.

He really wasn't trying to be bitter but...

Eddie had spiraled for a few days after the unfortunate mishap while he was trying to...relieve himself. Sure, it started with "Steve's" relationship with you, but it was almost like Pandora's box; once the box was opened, everything flooded out. He couldn't sleep without thinking of it, and every waking moment, he was consumed by the blaring differences in their lives.

He wasn't himself and it was driving him crazy. Making him sick.

The smell of the laundry detergent Mary Harrington used, the taste of the tap water in their hose, the softness of Steve's bed.

He'd tried to get comfortable in someone else's skin but the truth was that he wasn't going to fit in it, even if he wanted to.

However, in order to get back to his own life, he needed to keep playing the part of King Steve Harrington, keep stuffing himself into a place that didn't fit. Ignore the stifling tightness, the bulges, and the stretching at the seams of his very being.

That didn't mean he had to give up everything that made him Eddie.

He'd had a day off last Tuesday, and he'd just...spent it trying to reconnect with himself.

He'd stopped by Rick's for weed--and also to check on him, even though Rick wouldn't realize he was Eddie--drove up to Fort Wayne to get high and walk through the conservatory, buy some concert tees at the second hand shop.

By the time he arrived at the Hideout for Corroded Coffin's gig, he felt almost whole. And then he had one of the best performances of his life.

Only to realize that he couldn’t fully enjoy it.

Which led him to skip out on Benny’s with the guys after the set, because as much as he wanted to see you, he knew he couldn’t stand to witness the way you would be indifferent to “Eddie” only to dote on “Steve.”

This was so fucked up. He didn’t know how much longer he could take it.

It was as he had that very thought that his beloved van pulled up right outside the store and “Eddie” and the kids piled out, looking frantic and excited.

Dustin caught Eddie’s attention and quickly waved to get him to come outside.

“I thought you were the babysitter Harrington,” Keith sniffed judgmentally from the front of the shop where he was stocking a display. “What’s Munson doing here with your kids?”

“He got custody in the divorce,” Eddie snarled and vaulted over the counter. “I’m taking my lunch.”

“Wh-hey?!” Keith stuttered as Eddie strutted out the door purposefully. “You forgot to clock out!”

Steve and the kids were all talking over one another excitedly by the time he reached the group.

“They wouldn’t tell me shit until we got here,” Steve grinned. “But apparently they figured out how to fix this.”

“What?!” Eddie’s eyes went wide, the prospect of being back in his own body too monumental to not be excited. “That’s great!”

“We’ve translated the passage!” Dustin announced.

“We?” Lucas asked skeptically.

“Lucas translated the passage,” Dustin amended.

Before Eddie knew it, he and Steve were sitting in the back of the van as Dustin, Lucas, and Will went back and forth over their findings.

He felt like he was in an episode of Columbo for a minute. The kids being detectives who solved a great mystery and were reliving their investigation step-by-step. Lucas did most of the Latin translation, but part of it fell on Will’s shoulders. It wasn’t your run-of-the-mill Latin they learned in class but some obscure dialect.

“Which, uh, I coincidentally have a book about because I have actually been coming up with that one-off campaign for Mike’s birthday,” Will confessed and reached up to scratch the back of his neck as he turned red. The other boys whooped and patted him on the back and Eddie couldn’t help but feel proud of him too.

Eddie always said these kids were the future of Hellfire, but truly he couldn't see them having a better DM than Will Byers.

"Anyway," Dustin returned to the topic at hand. "This is what we ended up with." He pulled a crumpled up piece of notebook paper from its place within his backpack and handed it to Eddie.

The page was covered in crossed out words and different scribbles in each of the boys' incredibly distinct handwriting.

"Jeez, you couldn't have at least rewritten it on a fresh piece of paper?" Steve asked critically. Dustin simply rolled his eyes and grumbled something along the lines of "next time you're cursed, you're on your own" as Eddie and Steve leaned together to read the translation.

A journey soon begins, its prize reflected in another's eyes. If what you see is what you lack, then selfless love will change you back.

Eddie felt his throat tighten as the guilt washed over him.

Sure, he had accepted that the fault lay entirely with him--he already vowed not to use any occult books for future campaigns again--but seeing it there on paper just solidified it.

A prize reflected in another's eyes. You. But you weren't some prize to be won. Sure he...he wanted you to be his but you weren't some object. And to think of you that way...well...he knew enough about magic to know that it didn't happen by accident. He had to believe that you were a prize, at least a little bit, to make something like this happen.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes wearily.

This wasn't what he wanted at all.

"Alright, so what does it mean?" Steve questioned.

"It means you two are jealous of each other," Lucas explained.

Both Steve and Eddie stiffened.

"What?" they exclaimed in tandem. They looked at each other and Eddie laughed while Steve simply looked horrified.

"What do you mean, jealous of each other?" Eddie scoffed.

"Oh, come on Munson," Steve rolled his eyes. "Of course you're jealous of me, this entire predicament we're in is because of you and because--."

"No, no," Eddie held out a hand to stop him from continuing. "Shut up. I'm jealous, alright? Jealous that you seem to get everything handed to you. Anything you want? It's yours. Is that what you wanna hear Stevie?

"But," Eddie paused and narrowed his eyes. "Why are you jealous of me?"

"W-what?" Steve coughed awkwardly. "I'm not--"

"Why did you say that Sinclair?" Eddie jumped to his feet and pointed at Lucas. "Why did you say that we were jealous of each other?"

"Uhhh..." Lucas squirmed a little under the intense scrutiny of the older boys. "W-well...it's about the way the sentences were structured. I'm not...I'm not an expert or anything but it's referring to you in plural. If what you, vōs, seek is what you lack. Not you, tu."

Eddie then turned back to Steve and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well?" Eddie asked expectantly.

Steve was still for a moment before he began fidgeting. He fumbled over his words--a bunch of well-you-sees and you-don't-understands--as he pinched the bridge of his nose and ran a hand through his hair. Eddie watched, almost sympathetically knowing how hard it was for him getting used to Steve's unfamiliar body, as Steve faltered with his longer mane.

"It's...I...it doesn't matter!" Steve finally shouted. He jumped to his feet and put his hands on his hips; he began pacing back and forth, one arm occasionally flailing as he gesticulated. "It doesn't matter why I'm jealous of Eddie? So what? We need to figure out how we can fix this.

"Selfless love? For what? For each other?" Steve blew a raspberry childishly. "Fat fucking chance. There has to be another way. I don't care what we need to do. I just want to change back."

"Change back from what?" a light, raspy voice sounded from over their shoulders.

The entire group stiffened and turned toward the voice and, lo and behold, there stood Robin. Shuffling her feet back and forth restlessly, frozen in place as she tugged her family video vest from her backpack. The moment everyone's eyes were on her, she grinned bashfully and waved at them all.

"Well, shit," Steve cursed in the most Eddie-like fashion.

If it had been up to Steve, Robin would never have found out about the whole...switching bodies...curse...spell...thing...

But when did something he wanted ever be taken into account by the universe, huh?

As soon as the group had realized Robin was there, all of the deflection and anger drained from Steve's body. He felt guilty for another one of his friends getting dragged into this mess. Because as much as he was happy to let Eddie take the fall, the fact of the matter was that Steve was just as jealous of Eddie.

As much as Eddie had admitted to being of him.

Steve had wanted to give her an explanation right then and there, and he would have if Keith hadn't chosen that moment to be his usual effervescent self.

"I'm closing the arcade tonight," he opened the door and glared across the parking lot at "Steve" and Robin. "So you need to clock in Buckley, and if your friends are still here by the time I take my break later, your hours are getting cut."

If there was one thing Steve had to choose that he didn't miss about his own life, it would be his boss.

So Steve brought the kids home and then returned to the Family Video parking lot to endure panic-inducing silence as he waited for Eddie and Robin to close the store. He could have listened to one of Eddie's endless tapes or smoked--Eddie's body was constantly craving one thing or another: cigarettes, sugary or salty snacks--to kill the time. He simply couldn't bring himself to do it.

It was a literal out-of-body experience. He watched himself and Robin talk and laugh as they went back and forth, helping customers and cleaning up once the store was empty. He knew his friend, knew that she was stronger and smarter than other people gave her credit for.

But this? This made him feel dizzy sometimes if he thought about it too hard.

He hoped they wouldn't get too far, so he could at least...have a decent conversation with her for the first time in a few weeks. Short of seeing her in passing at school...well...he hadn't gone this long without talking to Robin since they became friends.

And he really needed his best friend right now.

Eventually the lights in the businesses of the strip mall began to click off, one by one, and Steve practically held his breath until Family Video's lights finally shut and Eddie and Robin exited the building.

Eddie slapped a hand on Robin's shoulder and said something that made her roll her eyes before he got into Steve's car and drove away.

Robin made a beeline for the van and silently hopped into the passenger's side. Steve's hands--Eddie's hands--gripped the steering wheel tightly enough that he could feel the rings cutting into the creases of his fingers.

The atmosphere in the van was heavy as he sat under Robin’s scrutinizing gaze.

"I knew something was up," Robin finally announced as she slammed the door closed. Steve looked at her as though she had grown a second head.

"What do you mean ‘you knew?’” Steve asked incredulously.

She sighed and began counting on her fingers.

“You’ve been a real grouch when you’ve picked me up from class lately and I know you’re a morning person. Which sucks, by the way. You asked if I wanted to skip home room and get McDonald’s breakfast with you, you hate McMuffins—”

She went on and on, and Steve melted. Yeah, he could admit they had their squabbles and they didn't always see eye to eye. But at the end of the day, no one really understood them like they did each other.

And it felt really good to be understood as Steve Harrington right now.

"--and then you're always complaining when your mom doesn't cut the crusts off your sandwiches and lately you've just been eating them. Also I mentioned something about Vickie the other day and you just ignored it, so I figured that you were just annoyed with me."

She heaved a little bit at the end, having said the last bit in one go without stopping for air. Steve reached across the console and flicked her ear, causing her to slap at his hand.

"Ow, butthead! What was that for?" she exclaimed.

"Are you fucking kidding me Rob?" Steve burst out laughing and Robin chuckled along with him. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"How was I supposed to know you switched bodies?" she slouched into her seat. "Here I was thinking that you just didn't wanna be friends with me anymore. Which, you have to admit, is a more likely explanation."

Steve was about to protest but he stopped mid-word and frowned.

"You know what? You're right."

"I know," she grinned smugly. "Now what have you been up to and how much help do you need with this whole 'switching back' thing? Because Eddie isn't that great at being Steve, which means you must really suck at being Eddie."

They went back and forth as Steve put the van into drive and regaled Robin with stories and mishaps in the short time he'd spent as Eddie Munson, and she laughed at his stupidity.

After he left Family Video, Eddie found himself driving aimlessly through the streets of Hawkins. He thought a weight would have lifted off his shoulders after he explained everything to Robin, but everything was...almost a little worse now.

She'd had questions, like any normal person would. Actually, a normal person would have just had them committed. Robin was special though; her own brand of freak. And she was quick to adapt.

Eventually though...the topic turned to you.

When was Eddie gonna tell you what happened? Did you already know? You deserved to know before you fell too hard for Steve; otherwise, you'd be heartbroken if you ever found out that he was actually Eddie.

Of course, that only fed into all of Eddie's insecurities and self-hatred. All of the doubts he had spent days trying to stuff into the furthest corner of his mind returned with a vengeance.

You wouldn't feel the same thing about him if he was actually Eddie Munson.

Robin didn't know exactly what her words had done to him; she was fully oblivious to his real feelings for you. So he'd done his best to keep those thoughts at bay, and resolved to treat himself to a drive around with the windows rolled down and headband to Metallica as he smoked.

But then Robin opened her big mouth as they locked up for the night and it sent him into another spiral.

"You know...with a little more time, I would have probably figured it out," she chuckled. "You're not as good at being Steve as you think."

At first he wondered if that meant you might figure it out with a little more time. You were sharp, especially when it came to other people; what if one day he did something so inexplicably Eddie that you simply refused to believe he was Steve anymore. Sure, you probably wouldn't be able to guess that he actually was Eddie but...he wouldn't be the Steve you liked anymore.

If he did tell you the truth, would you break up with him? Would you hate him? He'd gotten close many times...but it was just so...ridiculous.

But then Eddie realized that he had been banking on the fact that he was doing all sorts of lovely things with you, had such a deep connection with you--he thought so, at least--and that Steve himself could never live up to it if they switched back.

What if he had you wrong all along? And it wasn't the deep connection that you both built? But just...the fact that he was Steve? You really hadn't had many .boyfriends during school, when you hung around with Mickey's sister. Or any, actually. What if you had a crush on Steve all that time and now...

Eddie felt sick.

Sicker than he was the other night. Sicker than he felt after a bad high. All he wanted was to go back home; not the empty Harrington house, but home. Back to the trailer and his stupid bed and to Wayne, who would give him a stiff hug once he saw Eddie was feeling so down.

But he couldn't.

So he went to the place that felt the next closest to home as he could get right now.

To Benny's.

Benny's had always felt like home to him. When his mom was still alive, waiting tables. She'd pick him up from school and sometimes bring him to work with her. He'd sit at a table in the very, very corner scribbling in his notebook or reading; she'd always scold him to do his homework but Benny would bring him a milkshake and tell Eddie that if he never finished school Eddie didn't need to either.

And to you.

You'd become more home than he ever realized before. Faced with the thought of losing you, he knew he would get over the pain if he absolutely had to. He could move on. But something would always be missing. If none of this had ever happened, the home that you were to him would have stayed cherry pie slices on Tuesday nights and the scribbles in his old notebooks.

But now he knew the taste of your kiss and the weight of your hand in his. He couldn't pretend anymore. He had to know.

Eddie didn't hesitate as he pulled into the gravel parking lot. He was out of the car and headed into the diner as soon as the keys were out of the ignition.

It was almost closing time, so the diner was pretty quiet save for a family finishing up a late supper and Chief Hopper who sat at the counter with a slice of apple pie, chatting with Benny through the serving hatch. You were hunched at a table--the very same table his mom would sit him at--rolling silverware; your eyes darted around the diner every so often to make sure your customers were taken care of, and they immediately sparkled when they landed on him.

The motivation he had to make it into the diner was immediately replaced by those stupid nerves.

"Hey honey," Eddie greeted nervously once you crossed the diner and stood before him. The courage momentarily gone, especially as you made it to the door to greet him. "Uh...table for one?"

"We're about to close," you frowned and glanced over your shoulder. "Uh, but I can ask Benny if--"

"Wait, no," Eddie stopped you before you could go anywhere. "I was just kidding. I really wanted...to see you. I missed you."

"Oh! I missed you too," you grabbed his hand in yours and squeezed. "It looks like you came here straight from work. Everything ok Steve?

His ears started ringing; there it was again.

Steve, Steve, Steve.

The name he had gotten so used to and so sick of. The person he had gotten so sick of being.

"What do you like about me?" he sought suddenly, desperately. "Like...really, why did you agree to go out with me when you could have...dated any other guy?"

Your eyes went wide and you began squirming nervously. He couldn't quite place it but there was something there...something that made him even more nervous.

"Uh, hey Ben, can I take a quick 5?" you asked over your shoulder and Benny poked his head through the window. He narrowed his eyes at "Steve" momentarily but nodded.

"No funny business kid," Benny warned. "She's the best I've got."

You pulled Eddie out the door and to the side of the building, where you took your breaks. Where he had danced with you last week.

"So?" he began impatiently. "Why do you like me?"

"Where is this coming from?" you questioned quickly. "Did...I don't know...did Eddie say something to you?"

"Eddie?" Had you...told him something? Something that would upset "Steve?" What would you tell him? And why hadn't Steve mentioned anything about you talking to him.

Eddie tried to rationalize it. You saw him as a friend, and Steve knew you thought Eddie was a friend. Steve still saw you as his own girlfriend. Maybe you were trying to...Maybe you...Maybe he...

Fuck it was really confusing if he really thought about it. He just needed a straight fucking answer. Otherwise he was gonna go crazy.

"No," Eddie shook his head. He would have to go out on a limb here. "No Eddie didn't say anything but I...I don't know. We've been going out for a little while I guess...even when I first asked you out, I never asked why you said yes. And I just...don't know why you would even want to go out with me."

Your eyes got sad, and took a breath, almost relieved, as your fidgeting stopped.

"I mean, I guess...I've had crushes and stuff before," you began.

Crushes? Oh god, what if you were about to confess you had a crush on Steve. Steve...well he understood, Steve was handsome...not his type...it would hurt but he understood.

"N-no one ever...ever really wanted to ask me out for more than...than a party or something," you chuckled. "I mean they did but...high school right? Everyone kind of sucked. You kinda sucked too Steve.

"And I really wasn't...ok it's funny because I was actually planning to break things off with you." You chuckled and Eddie perked up a little. "You were kind of...self centered, and you...you kept...I don't know. I know you had that breakup with Nancy, so I didn't want to be mean, but you just kept bringing her up!

"But then you...you really surprised me. I told you...you're not...not anything I expected. You don't even seem like you were when you first asked me out. You're...caring and you listen. You're funny, and you like classic horror movies? And then you--"

You went on and on, eyes getting brighter with each word. Eddie felt lighter. Everything you said that you liked about him, well they were all about Eddie. Not Steve.

He was...he was getting in his head for nothing. That's all it was. It was just...nerves and...and...he had nothing to worry about. He could have you, when all was said and done. Hell, he could probably tell you right now once you were finished; tell you the truth about the spell, tell you that he was Eddie, tell you that he...liked you and that you were the thing that kept him going all this time.

You'd probably be...confused. But you knew him. You knew Eddie. It would all make sense in the end. And hopefully, you wouldn't turn him away.

In that moment, however, seeing that pride and confidence take over you as you listed all the reasons you liked him--the way you were so sure of your feelings--made Eddie's own confidence falter. He wasn't an idiot, he knew that telling the truth felt freeing. To you, you were just confessing how much you liked "Steve," and while all of the things you just said made him...so incredibly happy...he couldn't help but wonder...

What if you were angry that he kept this secret from you? What if you...hated him for lying?

Robin said it herself, you deserved to know the truth, before you fell too hard. He should have told you immediately. He shouldn't have acted in his own interest. You were...you deserved so much better.

The doubt you just helped brush away began festering inside of him again.

You deserved to know the truth, but he couldn't hurt you more now. And as much as he wanted you to...to love him, to love Eddie Munson he knew that you would feel too betrayed to ever trust him again if he told you.

"--and it kind of helps that you're really cute too." You finally finished with the brightest, most tender smile he ever saw. "Sorry I guess that's just the long winded way of me saying...I really like you Steve."

And as Eddie ignored the twist in his gut at Steve's name--as he kissed you--he decided that he simply couldn't tell you the truth. Ever.

Eddie felt bad just leaving after he barged into Benny's like that, and to be completely honest, even though the guilt was eating at him he didn't want to leave your side. He convinced you to go out with him for a late night snack and then he followed you home where he gave you another sweet kiss on your front porch.

"You're spoiling me," you giggled as you fiddled with your keys.

"You deserve a lot more than I can give you, Honey," he told you truthfully. "So much better than someone like me."

"Impossible."

It was close to midnight when he pulled into the Harrington's driveway, and Eddie cursed when he noticed the two expensive cars parked beside each other and the lights on in the house.

He hadn't had the misfortune of encountering both of Steve's parents at the same time yet. His dad was usually at work and mom usually just...gone, so the few times he did see them...they were just on their own and he could dodge any questions or conversations.

"Whatever you do, just don't talk to them," Steve had told him. And Eddie had kept up that end of the deal so far. He couldn't be so sure now. He would just have to try his best to get up the stairs and into bed before they noticed their "son" was home.

Eddie turned the key in the lock as quietly as he could, entered the house and closed the door behind him without more than a click. He avoided dropping his keys in the little dish on the table in the hall--

There was chatter coming from the living room, quiet laughter. That was odd. From what Steve made it sound like, his parents always fought.

--but he couldn't avoid running into the table itself. The table wobbled and the other keys in the dish clattered and caused a commotion. The laughter stopped abruptly.

"Steven?" Mary's voice sounded frantic and alarmed.

Shit.

"Yeah mom, it's me." Eddie winced and tried to steady the table.

"I didn't think you'd be home tonight, it's already so late." She was immediately in the hall, eyes darting around, arms crossed over her chest. Her makeup was smeared and hair disheveled. Even her clothes looked in disarray.

Gross. Eddie didn't want to think about the Harringtons fucking on the couch he took a nap on the other day.

"Worked late," Eddie answered dismissively, wanting desperately to get out of this situation. "Just like dad does."

Eddie tried to take a step around her--if they knew he was home, he might as well grab some water or a pop before he went up to bed. Maybe a beer if he had to think of Steve's parents like that. Mary immediately stepped in front of him and blocked his way.

"I was worried," she stated blankly, eyes dead on him now.

"Clearly not, if you thought I wasn't coming home," Eddie snarked, annoyed now that she was making this difficult for him. Here was the bitchy PTA mom Mary Harrington he knew and loved. "I just want to get a snack and go to bed."

"It's late, just go to bed Steven."

"No, I--"

"Now is that really any way to talk to your mother?" a deep voice sounded from behind Mary.

Eddie rolled his eyes, now ready for a fight with Big Papa Harrington--

The thing about the Harringtons was that they looked like something out of a Sears Catalog. Tom was tall with salt-and-pepper hair that coiffed perfectly on his head, bright blue eyes, and a firm, trustworthy voice that always meant business. Mary was a petite brunette with warm hazel eyes, impeccable taste in clothing, and a sweet voice that went shrill when she was upset. And Steve was a good mix of the two; the perfect poster boy for their coveted suburban life.

--only to freeze in surprise when an older man with blond hair stepped out of the living room. His necktie was in his hand, lipstick was smeared across his mouth, and he was shrugging on his suit jacket. The flag pin on his lapel glinted in the hall light, like the unspoken warning in his eyes.

Eddie's mind raced as he tried to make sense of it all.

Steve asked him not to talk to either of his parents very much, to keep their interactions with him short. How he got bitter at even the mention of his parents. The lunches, the calendar, the laundry. The allowance money that she gave him, even though practically everyone knew Steve had been cut off from his dad's wallet. Eddie thought that the allowance money was the secret they were keeping from Tom.

"You can't be mad at me forever, Steve," she had told him the other day.

"It's good to see you again, Steven," he smiled his election-winning smile and put a protective hand on Mary's shoulder. "We were just discussing how the historical society is contributing to the--"

"Larry was just leaving," Mary announced and glared up at Mayor Kline. The Mayor nodded and patted his hand on her shoulder once again before he slunk between them and out the door, Eddie's eyes following him until he was gone.

For all the gruff manner about him, Eddie's uncle Wayne was a bit of a gossip monger. Always had been. He got most of his gossip from the ladies around the trailer park that would offer a cup of coffee in exchange for some handyman repair work that they couldn't do themselves. So Eddie had become quite adept in Hawkins gossip. Rumor around town was that Tom was the one cheating. It was why Mary had the nicest car and the most expensive jewelry. It was why she went on all of his business trips and was treated to lavish weekend getaways.

No one expected that...

"You're cheating on dad," Eddie practically spat at Mary. She heaved a heavy, tired sigh and rolled her eyes a little bit.

"Yes Steven," she agreed. "We've been through this all before. I'm ruining the family, your father is going to be heartbroken, but I don't think I see him here." She waved her arms out and looked around.

"It's past midnight and he's still at the office crunching the numbers," Mary continued. "There are things you just don't understand and you won't until you're grown up and married. But seeing how late you're coming home. Working late. Just like dad.

"So I don't want to hear it from you. I already made you a deal. You got your allowance back. I get to keep my secrets."

She waved her hands dismissively then turned back into the living room, leaving Eddie behind in the hall to process the entire conversation.

He went through the motions as he trudged up the stairs and got ready for bed. As he went to brush his teeth...he stared at his reflection. At Steve's reflection. Stared into tired eyes with purple circles underneath them and a gauntness that hadn't been there earlier.

On top of all the other shit he was feeling...this especially was heavy, and sickening.

Not because Eddie was fond of Mary or Tom or douchebag Mayor Kline.

Not because he was under some illusion that marriages were supposed to be perfect and families were happy.

Not even at his own partial triumph that the perfect Harringtons were truly about as far from perfect as one could get.

But at the realization Steve had to live with the truth that could break up his family.

Steve's visit had you practically floating through the next few days. It was unexpected and so...perfect.

You had gone a few days without seeing him. Not that...you were trying to be clingy or anything. But for the past two weeks he had been consistent in his attention and affection for you...and for it to suddenly stop the day after you tore up your diary and resolved to get over Eddie?

After you told Eddie about your crush in the first place?

It had you in a panic. And, of course, instead of try to communicate and reach out at all, you internalized it and catastrophized.

What if Eddie told Steve? What if Steve hated you now? What if that's why he hadn't called? Or come in with the rest of the guys after their next show?

You thought it all came crashing down when Steve had stopped by and asked you why you went out with him. You thought he was trying to get the truth out of you and for a moment...it felt like the worst thing in the world.

Losing Steve felt like the worst thing that could ever happen to you.

But when he asked again, seeming so lost and insecure. God, it just cut you, because...how could he not see how great he was? Why did he doubt that you liked him?

You relived it after you got home that night. Went over every moment, tried to make sense of it all. Tried to pinpoint anything you had done. And really the only thing you could think of was telling Eddie about your crush.

But...the good definitely outweighed the bad. Your little self-pity and worry over Steve's abandonment of you had vanished and...even now, you were still giggling over him. Over the happiness you felt that you liked him so much, that he liked you back. Liked you enough to worry that you might not like him.

You had to admit that it all felt silly. All of the back-and-forthing, all the doubt. But silliness was good, and it just made the days pass by swiftly. Benny had kept grumbling good-naturedly at your bright smile. He teased you and asked if you needed a quick 5 minute break later and if Steve would be waiting outside for you after close.

Hell, even Lynn's bitterness wouldn't ruin your good mood.

"Alright, Sunshine," she groused at the start of the early dinner rush, just as you came back from your break. "Better hike up that skirt a few inches. Your boyfriend's here, so you gotta look extra cute if you want a good tip. God knows your serving isn't good enough for it."

You felt yourself getting hot from embarrassment; not for Lynn's rude comments but because she said boyfriend, the fact that he was so recognizable now.

God, if Steve was here, Benny would never let you hear the end of it. But how did she know? Steve had work on Wednesdays...

You subconsciously touched your hair and adjusted your uniform before stepping into the dining room. Your eyes swept over the tables, looking for his familiar fluffy head of hair...only to come across another incredibly familiar head.

Your boyfriend. Lynn thought Eddie was your boyfriend.

Eddie's long, curly mane took flight as his head was thrown back, his laughter lost over the din of chattering customers. For a second you assumed he would be there with Jeff or Gareth--hell, he might even be there with Mickey catching up--until you saw the ultra-styled brunette perm that bounced with every motion.

In that moment, you either turned to stone, or you fell into a deep, dark abyss. It was hard to tell. It could have been both. Or neither. But something happened to you and you ceased to exist as you did just seconds before. Benny's little bell in the service hatch sounded flat and distant. The grumpy old man demanding coffee simply melted into the floor. Lynn became a blur in your peripheral vision and phased between tables like a phantom.

And Eddie and Nancy remained in perfect, painful focus.

Nancy Wheeler. Nancy Wheeler. Nancy Wheeler.

The bell in the window dinged twice and Benny shouted something to Lynn, effectively breaking you from your trance. You wiped your now-clammy hands on your apron and quickly approached the table.

"Hey, how's it going today? Can I get you guys something to drink?" You forced a polite smile onto your face and glanced between them.

This was the closest you'd been to Nancy...possibly ever; she was a year younger than you and aside from your interactions with Steve now, you really never had any business hanging near him when you were still at Hawkins High. She was really pretty. Her blue eyes sparkled, her smile was cute, and her voice was sweet and soft as she asked for coffee, please. Some dark part of you that made you hate yourself though that she was everything you weren't, and you couldn't blame it because Eddie was looking at her like she hung the stars.

"Eddie, are you gonna order?" Nancy's eyebrows jumped expectantly. "It's busy, I'm sure she has other people to help."

"Oh he's a regular he gets--" you started to defend him but Eddie cut you off.

"Just ice water." He didn't even look at you. "Thanks honey."

Your throat got tight and you shot them both a tight smile with a quick "be right back."

How did she do it? How was she...how did she get everyone? She had a boyfriend right? Unless they broke up. But still...she had Steve hung up on her for God-knows-how-long, and now Eddie was like a lovesick puppy.

Your mind raced as you retreated back to the kitchen and went through the motions of your job. Lynn was terrible about starting a fresh pot and you were relieved that you'd have an extra minute of respite to think before you did something stupid like spill hot coffee in Eddie's lap.

What were they doing here? Was this a date? You thought...you saw textbooks on the table. Were they just doing homework or...did they have class together? You'd offered a study session with Eddie once. Not a date. And it was in the library and not Benny's. Fuck. Was it a date? Fuck. And he never looked at anyone like that, let alone you.

Your movements were jerky and full of emotion. Coffee grounds spattered as you scooped them into the brewer, you slammed Eddie's water glass onto the counter, and by the time you were halfway bent inside the ice maker, taking out your frustrations on frozen water, Benny had enough.

"You need a different weapon to stab that ice kid?" Benny chuckled. You stood straight and faced him with, what you were sure was, a pathetic expression.

"I'm sorry Ben I--"

"You just came back from break," he stated matter-of-factly and crossed his arms over his chest. "What's got you all worked up already? Someone out there harassing you? Need me to kick 'em out?"

"I mean, unless you wanna fire me," you replied tiredly, knowing you were more frustrated with yourself than with Eddie or Nancy.

"Ah," he nodded sagely. "I got it. Yeah, I go 8 rounds with myself sometimes too. Wanna talk?"

Did you want to talk to your boss about silly boy trouble? Trouble that you were trying to work through yourself? Because you were supposed to be getting over your crush on Eddie. You were with Steve...and you just needed to remind yourself of that.

Every time you walked out there and saw them talking. If their heads got too close as he whispered something to her over their homework. On the off chance you looked outside and saw them kissing in the parking lot after they left.

You thought...distance from Eddie would work. But you were friends with practically the same people and he always came into Benny's.

Maybe the answer wasn't trying to push Eddie away? Maybe it was just to get closer to Steve?

You ignored the roiling in your stomach and sighed. Either way this wasn't something Benny could help you with.

"Thanks Ben," you responded weakly. "But it's just...I think I have to work it out myself."

Before Eddie knew it, it was Friday and time for Hellfire.

It was weird now, having Robin know the truth about him and Steve. She was having a hard time adjusting to calling him Steve, knowing he was Eddie. Despite the fact that she had been calling him Steve the whole time.

"I'm just going to call you both Dingus," she reasoned. "That way there's no chance of messing it up."

She actually...had been pretty handy the past few days, trying to find the way for the two of them to switch back. She had checked out a bunch of books from the Hawkins Public Library and brought them to Family Video for them to scour through, had apparently taken to sitting with the Hellfire Club at lunch to prevent Steve from making a fool of himself--fat chance--and grilled both Steve and Eddie on every aspect of one another's lives that might be relevant to their switch. More importantly, the switch back.

"What is selfless love? Is it supposed to be...you doing a selfless act for one another? Because I saw this one test Steve took for you last week. He got a B! And you know he's purposefully having tutoring sessions for you? Must suck for him; he aced O'Donnell's class last year."

She had even been a listening ear after Eddie had found out about Steve's mom, and didn't know the best way to get around to talking to him about it.

It had to be eating Steve up inside...hell, Eddie didn't even like the Harringtons and he felt guilty for not telling Tom that his wife was ruining their family and hurting their son by bribing him to keep it all a secret.

Fuck. Were...were he and Steve friends now?

Eddie normally would have shivered at the thought but...actually it was kind of wholesome...to think that King Steve would slum it with the freaks.

But the line would be drawn if he ever had to admit that Steve was a nice guy. Even if it was the only thing that he had to do to get back into his own body...yeah wasn't happening. Guess he would be Steve Harrington forever.

He was currently waiting at the side entrance to the High School for Steve and the others to get back from picking up snacks for their session.

He actually managed to piece together a semi-decent looking outfit. The last few gigs at the Hideout and Hellfire meetings, he had shown up in Steve's signature polo-and-jeans look. But after digging in a box labeled "donate" at the back of Steve's closet, Eddie found what he was pretty sure was Steve's halloween costume a few years back.

A black t-shirt and some...dark grey blazer that Eddie spent his lunch break adding safety pins too--more punk rock than metal but it would do. Pop those on with some black jeans that he also zhuzh'd up...aka cut holes in...perfect Hellfire look.

He wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb at least. Maybe he could ask Steve to bring him an extra shirt next week.

Eddie's van swerved into the parking lot and as soon as it stopped, the back doors swung open and Gareth jumped out with a whoop.

"Harrington, are you ready for carnage tonight?" he shouted at "Steve" and hauled a case of Mountain Dew over his head. The rest of the Hellfire club filtered out and greeted Eddie before helping unload their purchases.

Steve finally joined them and clapped Eddie on the back.

"Glad you could make it, Harrington," Steve winked and looked down at Eddie's clothes. "Slumming it again? What are you wearing?"

"I don't know, Munson," Eddie ran his hands down the front of the blazer. "Just something from the back of the closet."

"The safety pins are pretty cool," Dustin commented with a wink as he and Mike headed in.

Once the guys were inside, Steve hissed in Eddie's ear.

"What did you do to my jacket?"

"Dude you need to stop trusting your mom to buy your clothes," Eddie laughed. "I'm gonna go cross-eyed with all of the stripes."

"You're one to talk," Steve rolled his eyes. "It's a wonder your knees aren't permanently frostbitten. All of your jeans have rips in them."

Eddie shook his head. Asshole.

"Heard you're getting help in O'Donnells," Eddie remarked.

"News travels pretty fast," Steve kicked his feet, spraying the guys with gravel. "Which of you idiots blabbed. Gare?"

"Yeah he's been making kissy faces," Dave coughed and cleared his throat. "I mean...yeah he's been getting special tutoring sessions."

Kissy faces?

"From Nancy Wheeler!"

Wheeler?

"Mike doesn't know his ass from his elbow but even he knows you're crushing on his sister," Gareth teased, earning a high five from the others.

"Lay off," Steve preened in front of the others. "We've only had two study dates."

"Two days in a row!" Jeff protested. "That's your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend...yet."

Eddie felt dizzy; what was even happening. Steve was...Steve was dating you, why the hell was he talking about Nancy like...like he was gonna ask her out. Why was he trying to get him to date Nancy?

He grabbed Steve's arm as the other guys headed in.

"Are you...kidding me Harrington?" Eddie hissed. "I don't need a girlfriend, I just need to be back in my body. Jesus H. Christ."

"You don't...listen Eddie, you don't understand," Steve sighed.

"I think I do, you're obsessed with Nancy and you know she isn't gonna get back with you as yourself so you're trying to get her back as me." Eddie punctuated his words by jamming his finger into Steve's chest.

"She likes bad boys," Steve explained with a shrug. Eddie scoffed.

"Jonathan Byers isn't a bad boy. I'm not a bad boy. You're gonna make me look like an even bigger laughing stock than I already am."

"Well it's a good thing that I'm still you then, you get to enjoy life on top," Steve held out his arms. "It's a win-win. I get Nancy, you get not to be an absolute loser."

"Well what about your girlfriend?" Eddie asked. "You asked me to keep her warm. She's a good one. Don't scare her away."

"You can break up with her if that's your problem," Steve said dismissively. Eddie let out a noise of disbelief. "What? Isn't that it? You're tired of going on lame dates? Listen, we're no closer to switching back than we have been. Why can't you just...accept the inevitable."

"So you just...give up?" Eddie asked. "Because...I dunno, it just sounded like you want to be stuck as me for the rest of time as long as you can be delusional about Nancy."

Eddie realized that he was being thebiggest hypocrite right now.

He just didn't care.

Every day he made himself sick with worry that you were going to find out and hate him. Guilted himself over the fact that he had to lie and deceive you. Every day simply got harder, and as much as he reveled in your affections...he knew it wasn't right.

Eddie had gotten them both into this mess because he couldn't build up the courage to own up to his feelings for you...and now Steve was doing the same thing. Who's to say that if Steve--if "Eddie"--had a chance with Nancy, they might never be able to undo this spell at all.

"I'm not giving up, I'm just..." Steve ran a hand over his face. "Wouldn't it be easier this way?"

There was a second of silence as Eddie connected the dots.

Maybe he wasn't the only one to blame here either. They were both jealous of each other. Eddie jealous because Steve was dating you. But Steve was jealous...because Eddie lived a supposed carefree life. Right? Wasn't that what Steve had said? And...and did Eddie not just find out how un-carefree Steve's life was?

"I get it now," Eddie muttered. "It isn't...it isn't just about Nancy. It's all of it."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"If you're me...then you don't need to worry about keeping mommy and daddy's marriage happy," Eddie explained. "You don't need to...work with Keith. You don't have to worry about living up to expectations when there are none."

"You talked to my mom?" Steve narrowed his eyes, his tone full of betrayal. "What the hell man?"

"I didn't but thanks for the warning man," Eddie scoffed. "Walked in on her and the mayor practically hanging off one another. Ah look at you, see? You look sick to your stomach. Don't worry, I didn't tell anyone. But I bet it's felt good the last few weeks, not having to think about whether or not your dad is gonna find out. That your perfect life is gonna be ruined."

"My life isn't perfect!" Steve exclaimed.

"Neither is mine! If you didn't notice, it's as far from perfect as you can get. Maybe you've just been oblivious to it so far. A few weeks is nothing compared to 20 years man.

"What's gonna happen when the state pen calls on my birthday because dear old dad wants to chat. Or..or when you go to Rick's house to restock your supply and he's having a really bad day. You know how many times I've talked him out of just...ending it? It used to be easier when my mom was around but...guess what Steve? She's dead too.

"My life isn't easy," Eddie concluded. "Isn't perfect. So don't act like everything's easier just cuz you want to get in Nancy Wheeler's pants."

"You don't fucking know what you're talking about," Steve rumbled. "Nancy...shit she's the only person who I've ever loved. Who has ever loved me. Maybe my parents did a long time ago when I was still young enough to be my dad's little buddy and my mom's dress up doll. But not anymore. But Nancy? Nancy got me. She understood me like no one else did."

"What about your friends? What about Robin?"

"What other friends do I have besides Robin?" Steve asked. "They're all gone. They left. Even before graduation."

"And that's what you want now? You want Nancy and my friends too? To help fill your lonely little life?"

"My life is lonely? Please. You're playing a make believe game and wannabe rockstar twice a week with a bunch of kids. All your real friends left you behind too. And I might not know what my future holds but at least I have a future Munson," Steve huffed. "If this spell bullshit hadn't have happened, it isn't hard to guess where you would end up. Still living in that trailer park 20 years from now, fixing toilets, and fucking your fist because who would ever wanna be with someone like you? Who could ever love yo--"

Steve couldn't finish that sentence because Eddie's fist was rocketing into his face. The force of the punch made him fall to the ground.

Eddie felt empowered, filled with righteous anger and self hatred.

There was nothing worse than being faced with the hopelessness of his life, the pointlessness of his future...until those facts came from his own mouth.

"You're on your own Harrington," Eddie shouted as he turned on his heel and walked back to the BMW, not stopping for a second to look back, even as Steve called after him. "You wanna fix my life? You wanna be Eddie Munson? Be Eddie Munson. You don't need my help. Good fucking luck."

“Well here we are, Honey,” Steve announced as he pulled up to the curb in front of your house. “End of the Line. Home Sweet Home.”

It was the perfect date. Again.

Let the record show that Steve was the best at planning dates.

Honestly sometimes...it just seemed too good to be true.

There had been the night when he stopped by Benny's right before closing, and you had that chat outside. Even though you had an early class the next morning, he lured you out to the line of fast food places near the highway on an impromptu date and created ungodly mash ups with different sandwiches.

Or Thursday, he asked if you wanted to have a movie night and you suggested your place since Starcourt was always so packed. He had brought a ton of treats and extra supplies to build a blanket fort in your living room. He stole a few kisses when your hands met in the popcorn bowl. And you had gotten caught making out in the fort by your mom.

Then today--a Saturday of all days--he'd surprised you.

You’d walked outside, running late for your shift, only to find him parked at the curb, leaning against his car with a huge grin on his face. Told you that he had begged Benny to give you the day off to take you for a surprise.

"I have the day off from Family Video," he explained. "Figured I could use a little day out. Thought I could convince you to tag along."

As if a Saturday off wasn't surprising enough in and of itself.

It was honestly like something out of a John Hughes movie.

He had driven you into Indianapolis to go to some outdoor flea market. Played whatever music you wanted on the drive there and back. Got you all the roasted pecans and sweet confections from the vendors at the edge of the market had to offer. Made you fall for him more and more as he talked shop, laughed, and bartered for vintage records and cool sunglasses and a handful of pinback buttons.

"'Get Stoned?'" You laughed and picked out one rather large button.

"Like the Rolling Stones."

"I get it," you laughed. "Just didn't think you were into them enough to get a button."

"Oh...they're the Stones," Steve shrugged. "But, uh, figured...Eddie might be into it."

You really tried not to wince at the mention of Eddie’s name. You smiled and nodded but it just had you thinking back to Eddie and Nancy at Benny's. You knew you had to stop thinking about it...especially in comparison with Steve, and it was getting increasingly more difficult when Steve was the one who brought him up in the first place. Hell, when you stopped at a little drive-in outside of Marion for dinner, Steve even ordered, what you recognized as, Eddie's usual from Benny's.

It honestly threw you for a loop and made you feel a little crazy.

Just weeks ago you would have thought…well you wouldn’t have considered them similar at all.

And now…

Now you weren’t so sure.

You had spilled your heart out to Steve the other night, told him all the things that you liked about him. And it wasn't until you got home from work after seeing Eddie and Nancy together that you realized...a lot of the things you liked about Steve were also things you liked about Eddie.

Sure, Eddie and Steve were hanging out more after all, so they had to have something in common. Maybe hanging around each other brought out the best in one another. The glimpse of Steve you got after that third date…that genuine sweetness…was now only amplified by Eddie’s genuine personality.

Then you had Eddie…his seemingly endless confidence was more of a defense mechanism. Behind closed doors or with your heads leant together over homework he was more vulnerable. Sweeter. But now the confidence had almost made way for cockiness and indifference...which you really had never associated with Eddie before.

So the way he smile and looked at Nancy, the softness he freely gave--

The way you always wanted him to look and smile at you. The way that still devastated you not to be on the receiving end of.

—you rarely saw him show that soft side of himself so freely.

Even if Nancy had a boyfriend…well, it was a hurtful sight to witness and you truly hoped Eddie wouldn’t be hurt if she turned him down.

Huh. Eddie pining after Nancy and Steve being…just a sweetheart. A sweetheart you were falling for. It’s almost like they traded places or something.

You pondered the thought for a second and couldn’t help but laugh at how silly it all was.

“What’s got you laughing?” Steve’s voice broke through your fantastical thoughts and you shook your head.

“Nothing,” you dismissed. “I’m just…just happy.”

Steve smiled that million dollar smile of his--bright and sparkling--and tucked his head into his shoulder a little before glancing back at you.

“Really?” He questioned.

“Yeah.”

“Cuz you had a good time?”

“Well yeah, I always have a good time with you.” You shuffled in your seat a little, tugged at the seatbelt and scuffed your feet against the floor mat. “You, uh...you wanna come in?"

"Uh, is your mom home?" He chuckled nervously. "I don't want a repeat of last time."

No. That was mortifying.

"She's actually out with some coworkers. They got some big contract. Some international account blah," you waved your hand dismissively. "Kinda boring but she doesn't get to go out too much. I dunno.

"But uh...if you did want to come in...we could avoid a play by play. If you catch my drift?" You raised your eyebrows seductively and you thought you made the right reference--he was a sports guy after all. But he just looked like a deer in the headlights.

That was just the natural progression of dating right?

You kiss a little or a lot...and then you make out on your couch...and then...so why did he look shocked. You didn't wanna push him...but he was also Steve Harrington. You honestly thought he would have made a move by now.

Some wicked voice in the back of your head piped up.

Maybe the problem wasn't Steve; maybe you were the problem...

"It's ok if you don't want to," you backtracked, suddenly self-conscious. "Because I know you...you probably work tomorrow or something."

"No!" he shouted, the volume of it a little shocking thanks to the close proximity in the car. "Yes that's...no I...we can go in."

You held back a sigh of relief and smiled shakily.

The walk inside was unremarkable, but every second that passed was filled with more anticipation than the one before. Steve teased you for fumbling with your keys, enough that you dropped them, and he gave your butt a little pat. You grabbed him around the middle and waddled him back from your mother's steam-cleaned carpets so he could kick off his shoes, all the while running your hands over his toned chest. You asked him if he wanted something to drink, like a good hostess would, and he simply quirked a brow and said there was only one thing that could quench his thirst.

But before long it was all just a vague blur because he pushed you up against the wall in the front room and eagerly fused his lips to yours.

Steve was always a little noisy, always humming, but his noises became needier the longer you went. His hands gripped your waist and he thumbed the softness there consistently, as though he needed to prove to himself that you were truly safe within his grasp.

He swallowed the giggles that softly escaped you when his fingers found just the right spot.

"Ticklish?" he broke away and pulled just far enough back to grin through those kiss-swollen lips. You whined impatiently in response. "I think I found my lady's weakness...it's ok. Your secret is safe with me."

A voice echoed in your head, soft and sweet. My lady. Gravelly with sleep in the morning before class, accompanied by a bow, as you passed by Hellfire Club on the way to homeroom

No, no, no. Not again. You were here with Steve. Steve. Not Eddie.

"Mmmh, and what about you?" you muttered petulantly, pushing the thought away. He surged forward for another peck but you kept your hand firm on his chest to hold him back. "Isn't it fair I learn your weakness too?"

"I've gotta have some secrets don't I?" He pulled one of your hands away and pressed feather light kisses to each of your fingers, then the back of your hand.

An image was summoned in your mind's eye, the feeling of lips on your hand as you practiced some sort of Shakespearean reenactment for English class.

Eddie needed to get out of your head. Out of your heart.

You batted Steve's hand away, grabbed his face and mashed your lips to his urgently.

There was a build of anticipation; it was frenzied but it didn't feel rushed. Now that you two had a moment alone--truly alone to explore one another without a nosy neighbor or a potentially wandering police officer or a well-intended parent--it was clear that you both wanted this and wanted to savor every minute of it. Memorize every dip, every curve, every plane. Paint the taste of one another on the canvas of each other's tongues.

He tasted like...

Cherry Pie and Cigarettes and Juicy Fruit Gum.

But he didn't chew Juicy fruit. But he did. But he didn't. Steve didn't. Eddie did.

Steve chewed Big Red. He told you so on your first date when you asked for a stick after the bitter taste of coffee lingered in your mouth.

"I only chew Big Red, is that ok?"

But he had chewed gum in the car after you left the diner. He had his pie, he smoked really quick--a habit you vaguely remembered him saying he was quitting--and he had offered you a piece of Juicy Fruit as he turned the key in the ignition.

You compared Eddie and Steve in the car before, chalked it up to them being friends. But now here he was again and it was driving you crazy. You just wanted to fall for Steve in peace. And you were, you really were, but you were also getting sick of Eddie popping up at the most inopportune times.

You pushed Steve away from you and panted heavily.

"You wanna go to my room?" you asked abruptly. Your eyebrows shot upwards expectantly as Steve stared at you with big, dumb eyes and a shocked expression.

"Yes," he nodded eagerly. "Uh, yeah...yes."

Eddie didn’t know how to feel being in your room.

On the one hand…he doubted whether he should really be here. This was everything he had just condemned Steve for. On the other…it really had been the perfect day with you. You quieted the doubt in his mind. All of Steve’s cutting words about…being alone and never knowing love…they didn’t matter when you held his hand and looked him in the eyes and kissed him.

All of the sweet things you said to him the other night flooded his mind and made him feel like he was underwater. Submerged in your love.

If he closed his eyes and imagined the world was perfect, it did feel like love. He could convince himself that you loved him too. 

The minute your bedroom door was closed behind him, you had grabbed Eddie and pushed him onto your bed. The plush comforter cushioned his fall and your pillows had all bounced around him and he chuckled.

He craned his neck to get a look around your room—white walls decorated with some posters and cutouts from magazines here and there, a small desk, a bookshelf that was so full it was more book than shelf. He’d learned so much about you the past few weeks, more than he had over the past few years of knowing you, but this…aside from the fact that you had crawled onto his lap and we’re nipping at his neck…this was the most intimate he would ever get to know you. Not your body. But your soul, your mind, your light.

If this was his last glimpse of you he ever got in his life, he would die happily. He didn’t need to pretend things were perfect to acknowledge that he was in love with you. It was a fact of his existence at this point. And he needed to show you.

“H-honey?” He asked softly. “Stop.”

“You don’t like this?” You laved at the point where his jaw met his neck before sucking a bruising kiss there. His nerves were alight at the sensation and blood rushed south.

“Where did you learn to do that? Hmm?” He asked teasingly as his hand gripped your waist. You pulled back and grinned like the cat that got the cream. “Oh? You’ve got secrets? Well I’ve got a secret too.”

Something akin to worry flashed behind your eyes and he reached up to caress the side of your face.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured. “It’s not bad. Let me show you.”

Eddie pulled your mouth back to his and you fell into him, obviously enjoying the soft attentions of his kiss. From there he eased you onto your back, happy to hover over you and press his body into yours. He grinned as you made a needy little noise.

More? He could give you more; he was planning on it. More importantly, you were eager to have him take.

You were soft and pliant against him, malleable, as his mouth traveled from yours, down your neck, and further down still. His hands antecedent of his descent, they prepared you for what was to come, gave you every opportunity to push him away, though you never would. He grasped your wrists and pressed them to the soft mattress above your head, rucked up your shirt so he could attend to your breasts.

Fingers deftly peeled away the cups of your bra and as he suckled and venerated, he found that the little strumming motion he liked to do when he played with himself was also one that made you whine deliciously;  calloused pads oscillating over supple fullness and hardened peaks.

Eddie abandoned his paltry devotions to continue onwards. He knelt back and quickly began removing your skirt and underwear, cute little things that would serve no purpose if you were to let him proceed.

“Is this ok Honey? You can tell me to stop,” he assured you. You bit your lip and your bliss-filled face became bashful, but you shook your head anyway. “No? You want me to stop?”

“Don’t stop,” you replied breathily. “Please.”

“I won’t. I’ll give you whatever you want. I promise.”

He ushered you to scoot further up the bed so your head could be cradled by the plush pillows. He couldn’t resist dropping another kiss or two to your lips, to sooth the sting that your teeth were inflicting. Your little needy noises were cute, but you were holding back and he simply couldn’t let that happen. 

“I want to hear you,” he muttered, running his thumb over your lips. “It’s just us. No one will hear. I need to know if I’m doing something you don’t like. Or something you really like. Then I know to do it again next time.”

“Next time?”

“Yeah…this isn’t some quick romp at a party or outside a concert, sweetheart. I want to make you feel good again.” He pressed a kiss to your lips for emphasis. “And again.” Another kiss to your breast. “And again.” One last kiss against your stomach before he settled himself in the cradle of your thighs, hissing the slightest bit as his hips came in contact with your mattress.

He was throbbing, aching for his own pleasure, eager for a release that he’d been ignoring and denying himself. He shifted and found a little friction, the mattress and his jeans doing just enough to sate him while he took care of another hunger.

Never let it be said that Eddie hadn’t met a pussy that he didn’t think was pretty but you—open for him and wanting--were gorgeous. Tempting. Eddie clicked his tongue as he finally got a good look at you, fluttering with want, dripping with ambrosia.

“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted more?” He admonished with a smirk, looking up at you with hooded eyes as he settled your leg over his shoulder, nestling in for an extended, more comfortable time. “I wouldn’t have made you wait so long.”

“I didn’t…I…” Your excuse was cut off by your combined moans as he latched onto you, immediately finding the swollen button at the top of your sex. He laved back and forth, teasing you until you whined. The taste of you, the smell of you—the earthy sweetness that bloomed on his tongue and settled at the base of his throat—caused his hips to jerk against the bed and he pulled back a little, eager but ready to let you feel good for as long as he could. He rotated his attention between your clit and your lips and your neglected little hole, kissed and nuzzled and lapped up whatever slick you gifted him. 

Eddie moved his hand from where it was caressing your thigh so he could ramp up the fun. You jumped as he caressed your lips, played with the spit and slick.

“Do you touch yourself honey?” You covered your face. “Didn’t I just tell you that I wanted to hear you? So tell me, do you touch yourself?”

“Yes,” you threw your hands down and grasped the plush comforter.

“Do you think of me?” You nodded. “I can’t hear you. Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to touch you? Do you want more?” He blew a soft breath across your thigh and you shivered.

“P-please, more.”

Eddie slid his fingers over you, watched as you shuddered and twitched, basked in your wanton little noises. With his other hand, he shifted slightly and undid his belt and the fly of his jeans, pushing them down just so, so he could rock against the bed, seeking more physical relief. He dove back in with kisses and licks and nips, getting adventurous as he slid a finger into you. You stiffened up for just a moment before he took you to higher heights. 

"Uuhnnnhhh, yes," you moaned breathily. Beautifully. "Right there. Yes!"

The tightness was luxurious and his head spun, imagining what the rest of the night might bring. He could feel you panting, getting closer and closer to your peak. He would get you there. Gladly. Again and again. Over and over until you couldn’t take any more.

“Please!”

“What do you want, honey?”

“Please I’ve—“

“You wanna cum sweetheart.” He grinned against you. “I’ll get you there but you have to beg. Come on.”

"P-please S-Steve!"

Eddie froze.

His ears started ringing. His entire body was numb. He couldn’t…couldn’t breathe. It all came flooding back, the realization, the hatred, the resentment. The want to be with you and the fact that he couldn't.

"W-what's wrong?!" you stammered and pushed yourself onto your elbows to get a better view of him. "What happened?"

Eddie couldn't answer. He could barely look at you.

He pushed your leg off his shoulder, and as he did he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror beside the bed—

The freckled skin, the fluffy hair, the rumpled polo, the hazel eyes staring back at him smugly.

--he couldn't even look at himself.

“Please, talk to me. What happened? Did I do something wrong?"

"I just...I..." he choked at the sound of his voice. But not his voice.

He shook his head and pushed himself off the bed. He ran a hand over his face and ignored the questions that came out of you. He quickly yanked up his jeans and barely fastened them. He ignored the belt.

He quickly turned on his heel and ran out of your room. He jammed his feet into his shoes and fumbled with the jacket he had hung on the coat hook by the door to get his keys. 

Not his keys. 

Steve’s keys. Steve’s car, Steve’s body, Steve’s life, Steve’s love.

Not his.

He let the jacket fall to the floor, abandoned, as he quickly made his escape.

All the while you called and ran after him.

"Steve?! Wait! Steve!!"

Tag List is currently suspended.

Freaky Friday Chapter 5 will be uploaded by Sunday, May 21st at 7pm CST.

[atrwriting]

the bee, the bird, the bear -- uncle!carmy x babysitter!reader

ok y’all full disclosure — i think i was super annoyed there was very little writing on carmy because i’ve had this AU idea for so long and i wasn’t sure if i was like… imposing or not, if that makes sense. anyway, i decided that, hey, it’s my blog, i can do what i want

therefore… uncle!carmy x nanny!reader 

as always, warnings: major character death, past child neglect and abuse situations, swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, and eventual smut

prologue

an alternate universe where carmy wasn’t only left the restaurant, but rights to michael’s kid. 

it was a regular evening at the bear. natalie, extremely pregnant, was escorting guests to their tables, richie was controlling the atmosphere, and carmy was holding down the fort the best he could. that was until the next guest that walked through the doors was a woman... who introduced herself as a social worker. 

“it is my understanding that your late brother had no idea of her existence,” the woman had stated to carmy. “the girl’s late mother kept it that way on purpose… but now the mother has passed away as well. you and natalie are the last family she has.” 

carmen felt the blood drain from his face, his arms, and every one of his limbs. his mouth fell agape — not because he was stunned, but because he felt like he had lost all control that he had struggled so hard to find and hold onto. carmen had no clue what to do. 

zip, zero, none. absolutely none.

the first few days, the four year old girl — his niece — sat in his office and played with dolls and coloring books. natalie was kind enough to pick them up and shove them her way when carmy appeared to still be consumed with shock.

his brother had a daughter. carmy and sugar had a niece.

carmy didn’t know the mother, nor what she looked like — and that didn’t matter. his niece looked exactly like her father, his brother — dark, thick hair and chocolate eyes. her smile was bright and big — so bright and big that carmen thought he was looking at mikey when he was younger, about ten years old. he couldn’t believe his eyes, every time he looked at her — it seemed like a dream, a super fucked up dream that he didn't know if it was fucked up to want to wake up from. he caught himself, several times, glancing in her direction and blinking multiple times — unable to believe what was right in front of him.

natalie had offered to take guardianship of the little girl the moment she saw that look in carmen’s eyes. carmen had to admit — he almost  immediately agreed. what business did he have being a parent? he just became a restaurant owner — a good one at that, maybe, but still: he worked late, long hours, and didn’t have more than three plates and sets of silverware in his apartment at that moment. thankfully, the apartment was a two bedroom — but that was as equipped as carmy could be considered. 

carmen berzatto was the furthest thing from qualified.

the furthest fucking thing.

did he know that? yes. did everyone know that? yes. was he, and everyone else worried? undoubtedly yes. 

but did carmen give up the rights to his niece to his sister? no. he didn’t. 

so what did he do? 

he hired a nanny or a babysitter, whatever — a friend of syd’s; you, a student, looking for work. 

he felt like he didn’t have time to interview you. maybe he did, maybe he didn't — all he knew was that there was a familiar weight beginning to make a home on his chest. he had worked so hard to keep his anxiety at bay, and he tried to shove it down the best he could. he couldn't freak out — not yet, anyway. if he trusted syd, and syd trusted you, then he trusted you with his niece — and his credit card to go buy her things. 

when you received the call from syd, you immediately came in after class. you had been looking for work for some time now, and you were grateful that your friend had thought of you. when you first arrive at the restaurant, the first person you saw was the man of the hour. you smiled at carmen, and he did his best to return it.

it was the first time you realized that not everything could be fixed with a little bit of honey and a positive attitude. you tried to remind yourself that syd and her partners had built this place from the ground up, and you found yourself immediately pushing your apprehension down and admiring their work. anyone, from even miles away, could see how much time, money, and effort they had put into the place — something they loved, they were passionate about, something they deemed important.

your smile reflected your restored faith in the man that syd talked so highly about.

but inside… you were worried. you were worried for the young girl, for natalie, who had a baby on the way, for syd and everyone else that relied on carmen and natalie’s leadership, but most of all… you were worried for carmen. 

could he handle being a parent? 

could you handle being a babysitter?

could you handle carmen, who appeared to be strangers with sleep and relaxation?

only one way to find out. 

----

lmk what you guys think :) -L xo

[unladyboss]

RICHIE'S NOTES: SEASON 3 THE BEAR. TRYING TO FIGURE THINGS OUT

I'm looking at all of it

This picture he drew of Carmy (with noticeable eyes by the way), arms out like he's wanting a hug. It's says " Carmy chef love me?"

Richie doesn't know Luca at this stage. So why is he drawing these connective arrows ? Why is Luca's name in his book?

So why is that note there like that?

CARMY ---------------SYDNEY

Luca --------------- Carmy

Forget romance for a second. Richie doesn't know Luca. Could the arrow mean 'needs' or 'is'? It's like Richie is trying to figure something out.

In this show everything that is written down or in print, means something important, so that's why I'm trying to figure this out. They're also using Richie as their expository tool once more. So if you still don't like Richie the messages they are trying to convey may be lost on you.

He writes about Syd a lot

This last one I had a hard time reading, so if anyone can fill in the gaps, please let me know what the page says

I got this 👇👇👇👇👇👇

Thomas Keller packed his book so----- and boarded a plane to Memphis. Memphis you say? That's a major something for an inspirational chef.

It seems like Richie is writing a story.

I know Ebon had notebooks he draws and write in, so it may have been added as a part of Richie's personality)

But just remember, I'm of the opinion that the Bear scenario is a construct. Not really real, happening in someone's mind. So all the Bear chapters may just be one person (dead or dying, or suffering in some major way), living out these scenarios like groundhog day, over and over till they get it together, get it right and can move on.

Sometimes I try to forget that this may be what's happening, so I can just enjoy the flat restaurant story, but that isn't entirely possible.

And of course not many people besides myself believe this theory. But at least the notebooks are interesting.

[riveatstoes]

the idea of finn wolfhard’s roles being somehow related has been beaten to death already but i do enjoy the concept of richie tozier and mike wheeler being twins separated when they were young, and then being forced to endure their own interdimensional horrors with their groups of Loser Buddies.

i also like the idea of how they’d react to each other’s aforementioned interdimensional horrors. personally i think if richie had to deal with anything remotely upside-down related he’d Flip The Fuck Out and just scream a lot. if he came face to face with a demogorgon he’d try to hit it with a baseball bat or a stick or something, and then max or lucas (or maybe even el) would have to go out of their way to save him from his own dipshit decisions.

alternatively i believe that pennywise would be a cakewalk for mike and the party. mike would simply hit it with the “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls 🙄” and it’d be so confused it would have no choice but to back off. i also am a firm believer that if the losers club had max with them they would’ve fully defeated pennywise in the first movie. she would’ve figured out the “make it small” shit SO FAST.

at her core max mayfield is a Thirteen Year Old Girl and i applaud her for it. i love her.

anyway i’m working on my own twins!richie and mike fanfic so we’ll see how that goes. i don’t want to post it before i have something super solid because i have a tendency to abandon fics if they don’t interest me enough the entire time. we’ll see.

bonus—some stranger things/IT pairings that i want to see more of in crossover fics:

STANLEY AND WILL!!!!!!!!! trust me

bev and el

dustin and richie

if you’re gonna do the bev/max thing i also strongly suggest doing lucas/ben as well because what’s the point of writing the ginger girlbosses without their Stupid Goofy Men?

bill and mike w

idk i just feel like eddie k would just hate eddie munson. crossover where the losers club have to climb through that portal in the munsons’ trailer and eddie k refuses purely because of the state of eddie m’s mattress

i get the feeling that stanley would be the one constantly being stuck with steve and robin and forced into ridiculous tasks. imagine the stranger things 3 russian elevator scene but instead of dustin trying to set up robin and steve it’s just stan uris panic-reciting bird species

stan’s first thought would be “oh she has a bird name :) nice” and then the rest is “what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck”

honestly any pairing other than reddie/byler because even though i love those boys to death it’s just so OBVIOUS atp

and also i can appreciate that they’d relate to each other but mike hanlon and lucas is far from the best mike h pairing. for example imagine him being stuck with (throws dart at board of ST character names) murray

erica sinclair and eddie kaspbrak world domination

adding onto the richie/mike twin thing the idea of nancy having to adjust to +1 brother is both funny and interesting to me. i think she’d lose it one way or another

jonathan byers and bill denbrough guilty older brothers bond

also imagine hopper reacting to a Second Mike being in his general vicinity. i think that would force him off the edge, ESPECIALLY after getting to know richie

[cutthathair]

CHERRY VALANCE HEADCANONS

- cried for days because she thought royale high shut down on roblox

- used to bake with her older brother , Richie, as a kid and would always make him put the cookie sheets into the oven out of fear of getting burnt.

- enjoys barrel racing at rodeos (this isn’t really a headcanon i think this is just something a lot of people forget is mentioned in the book)

- allergic to bees… the first time she got stung her face got really red and she looked like an airhead. it genuinely so bad she was bawling like a baby at the age of 13. now she’s DEATHLY afraid of them ong and all bugs.

- captain of the highschool cheer team! uses it as an excuse to stay away from her house and drunk father as long as possible. “Practice runs until eight tonight Momma, don’t worry though about picking me up — I can walk home,” and she ends up walking around town for a while until she’s tired and need to make her way back home.

- an expressive talker, especially with her tone of voice more than her hands. raising her voice and “hmm”ing to show she’s listening. also with her expressions, furrowing and raising her eyebrows to show how shes feeling, smiling or averting her eyes depending on the conversation topic.

- she owns a cat named Kitty (her parents let Richie and her name her when they were young). super fluffy with rustic fur and dark eyes. she HATES bob and bob hates her right back. the beef started after she bit one of the sleeves of bob’s shirts and her teeth left a hole. the passion is unmatched. cherry always gets mad at him whenever he insults Kitty because thats her BABY!1!!!1!1

“pfft…. stupid fucking cat 😒”

“i HEARD that bob 😡”

“nuh uh”

- the next thing you know Kitty swiped at him.

“CHERRY that THING HIT ME 🤬”

“nuh uh”

- the reason cherry snaps so sparsely/randomly at people is because of pent up anger she bottles in to seem stronger. to make herself believe that she is stronger. fake smiles and a night filled with her parents arguing leave her on her last nerve, causing her to shut down/dissociate in school as to not yell at any of her friends or break down sobbing in the middle of the cafeteria.

- bought bev, herself, and marcia matching friendship bracelets that she never takes off.

- is so stern about bob and the other socs drinking because she’s seen the way it affected her father. doesn’t tell anyone why she’s always yelling at bob for it, just says it’s “unhealthy” out of shame and embarrassment. she’s supposed to be the perfect west-side-soc girl, so why ruin that reputation? the only one who really knows is Marcia and now Ponyboy.

- her biggest shame… she has NEVER rode a bike nor learned

sorry if these are dookie idgaf about my writing when i’m mainly just yapping so…, some are old and some are NEW

[sixofpomegranates]

All of them are Eddie Munson fics since I am going through some severe brain rot because of this spicy golden retriever.

The order is random and not indicative of how much I liked them. There is no ranking, just sharing some really good pieces of work so we can all enjoy it!

10 Recommendations || 🐇 = My opinion. || Pink Color = SMUT

As You Wish (series) by @corroded-hellfire

➢ Summary: When Eddie isn’t appreciated like he should be, his babysitter feels the need to step in and comfort him.

🐇: I am OBSESSED with the entire universe. Like, really, really obsessed. Older!Dad!Eddie has my whole heart. His boys too. Brittany can go to hell. Long story short: Highly Recommended! It rearranged my brain chemistry. Oh, and it's spicy. || Not sure if it's still ongoing, but the way I am stalking the author's page I’ll sure as hell find out.

Eddie Had A Little Lamb (one-shot) by @honey-flustered

➢ Summary: Eddie is trying to be good and with your help, he could be exactly that. But Kas, on the other hand, thrives in all that is unholy and he’ll stop at nothing to bring you and Eddie to the dark side.

🐇: This rearranged my brain chemistry. I want more like this. I love this. Send me recommendations with fics like this. Jesus H. Christ.

who’s to say [pt.2] by @quinnsbower

➢ Summary: your father, jason carver, promises you one thing and can’t deliver it to you. you decide to get back at him and it him where it really hurts: eddie munson.

🐇: This is responsible for getting me hooked on older!eddie. This is the reason I will be writing an older!eddie fic. This rearranged my brain chemistry. I liked this way too much. So good. Sweet, old guy Eddie.

Caught Me Slippin’ (one-shot) by @uglypastels

➢ Summary: [modern!au] feeling insecure about your skills in bed, you decide to find someone who could help you learn. Except, when the guy actually shows up, a mistake seems to have occurred. Fortunately, you're both quite adaptable (or, at least, you try to be), and the night quickly takes off into unexpected territories.

🐇: No, because YOU hurt my feelings. You gave me an amazing one-shot with banging smut and then broke my heart. I love you and this piece, and forgive you, but damn.

Honey, I'm Home! (series) by @trashmouth-richie

➢ Summary: you were desperate for a roommate after Nancy got married and moved out. An ad in the paper goes unanswered until someone comes knocking on the door.

🐇: Obsessed, but I’d kill this menace!Eddie. I do not have enough self-control to not go to prison for ending this feral raccoon’s existence. || It's still ongoing. Eventual smut.

The Soulmates (series) by @neonghostlights

➢ Summary: Eddie Munson never thought he would be one of the lucky ones. Him being the only one in his family to be given a soulmate mark was a miracle. What happens when his soulmate is not the one he wanted? Will he be able to give up his dream girl to be with the one he’s meant to be with? Or will he just have to learn to ignore the other half of his soul?

🐇: Like it a lot. I found it through a reblog and read all the existing parts in one go. It's a Soulmate AU, the first one I read. || It's still ongoing.

You Give Love A Bad Name [pt.2] by @cinemaquinn

➢ Summary: eddie munson was a world famous rockstar. and, apparently, an asshole. but you weren't one to believe rumours, so when eddie asks to meet you, who are you to say no?

Conviction (one-shot) by @tiannasfanfic

➢ Summary: Life takes an unexpected turn when a one time fling with your best friend leads to an unplanned pregnancy. Will years of friendship be enough to build a solid marriage off of...or are you destined for heartbreak due to a wandering eye like the town rumor mill predicts?

🐇: This was so cute. Especially the ending. Yes, this was spicy. Very good.

Destructive Solutions (one-shot) by @bimbobaggins69

➢ Summary: after becoming roommates with your high school crush and finally getting out of your crazy strict parents house, you get a little too close to him and his best friend (your coworker) —but they’re straight, right?

🐇: yes. I am Steddie x f!Reader trash. I love it when the chemistry is there. And it was there. I loved this so much that I am writing my thoughts on this for the 7th time now because tumblr is a bitch.

Show Me (one-shot) by @bimbobaggins69

➢ Summary: you accidentally stumble upon your best friend/roommates porn stash, you quickly learn he’s the main star. After seeing him in ways you never have, will your friendship ever be the same?

🐇: yes. yes. You may have noticed that that's the second fic from @bimbobaggins69 That's because I found her through reblogs and since then am sure that her fics don't miss, no matter what she posts.

Seriously.

Fuck Tumblr for always deleting the last couple of sentences.

[heavenbarnes]

Love your Natalie 'Sugar' posts! Please can you write more, maybe some SFW and NSFW dating headcanons?

Hope you've had a good day!

uh yeah i sure can! i hope your day is good 🫶🏼

sfw:

- natalie who all but promised herself that she’d keep business and personal life separate (which was already impossible considering her brother(s) created this restaurant) but when she said “personal” she really meant “romantic”

- all that went out the window the day she came to the restaurant with the intent to head straight to carmy’s office but ended up lingering by your station

- if you asked her these days, she’d say it was because you were cooking an interesting dish (you were chopping potatoes) but if you had your say, it was because your sleeves were rolled to your elbows and you’d just lugged a heavy stockpot

- you made the first move, natalie had been the first to start flirting but you were the one to actually do something about it and not just stare at her starry eyed any longer

- it’d happened when you found her in the office, flustered and pissed off about the finances and you’d been the first person to ask how you could help and actually want an answer (as it turned out you weren’t the best at balancing books but you did tuck natalie’s hair behind her ear and ask how she made it look so easy)

- everyone else noticed the change when you were the only person to call her natalie when everyone calls her sugar and when richie asked why you’d simply responded “natalie’s a nice name, why change it?”

- anyways! dating! that woman doesn’t lift a fkn finger long as you have breath in your lungs- you’d get up and cross the living room to pass her the remote.

- in return, she is the sweetest love you have ever known. doesn’t matter who you are, what you’ve done, what you haven’t done- natalie loves you more than life itself.

- if she comes to the restaurant during down time, she can usually be found sat in your lap with a plate of whatever you’ve whipped up for her (all she has to do is ask and you’d hand spin her gold)

- you call her “the wife” even if you’re not married, you just love reminding people you have someone at home

- her lockscreen is a sweet picture of the two of you on a walk, your lockscreen is her on the toilet flipping you off

- you, richie and carmy refer to yourself as natalie’s “loser-husband” (regardless of gender) and natalie always tells you off for it (you keep doing it cause you like it when she uses that tone with you)

- you do most of the cooking at home but sometimes she’ll surprise you with baking and it’s always fucking delicious

- whenever the two of you are out, you’re usually stood just behind her with a hand on her lower back- you really like to be touching any part of her at all times

- when you’re in bed together at the end of a long day, she rubs your hands and knuckles when they’re tired from all that cooking (you repay with foot rubs on the couch)

- natalie really likes trashy reality tv and you watch it without complaint because of the light in her eyes when she bitches to you about one of the couples or whatever

- you and natalie are really good communicators, believe in discussing any issues with each other rather than airing them out to others

- it wasn’t always that way, natalie had to overcome a lot of family background to do it, but the result was worth it

- because of that family background, you’re unbelievably patient with her because you think she’s worth it

- if any of your colleagues or friends try to get into the whole “god my wife is so annoying” type of thing you’re just not there because you can’t relate

nsfw:

- okay i know i said you don’t call her sugar but that was only a half truth, you call her sugar when you’re fucking her

- when she’s underneath you and she’s on her back and her hairs splayed out like a golden halo and she looks sweet as sugar

- that’s when you cannot stop your mouth from running and you’re telling her “you’re so fucking perfect, sugar”

- but nobody else will ever know that

- however, it does mean she knows when you’re in the mood because you’ll just call her sugar and then it’s all on

- ngl, i reckon you’d have to be top in this relationship because i honestly think nat borders on pillow princess (but in the right mood, she’ll switch for you)

- she loves sitting in your lap at the restaurant but she adores sitting on your lap at home, whether you’re on the couch or in bed she’s perched up with her tits in your mouth

- you regularly ask her to ride you so you can get her tits in your mouth

- she loves being woken up with head, weekends when you don’t have to be anywhere in a rush you’ll spend hours under the sheets with her thighs around your head

- even though i think she likes being pillow princess, she absolutely loves going to town on you- likes it when her “big strong chef” comes undone for her

- she’ll also get into a bit of mommy stuff if you’ve had a rough day and need to be taken care of

- one of your favourites is having her sit between your legs in front of the mirror, making her show you how she touches herself when you’re working long nights at the restaurant

- she often walks around the house naked and sometimes you can be serious about it and other times you’re bending her over the kitchen bench

- sydney walked in on the two of you in a heavy make out session in carmy’s office and you all agreed to never talk about it again but sydney thinks about it often

- natalie loves when you talk dirty, loves getting you to the point where you’re straight babbling about how good she feels

- she loves tiktok and frequently does those trends like flashing your partner when they pull up the driveway or sending a nude when they’re in a group setting (you never complain and always fall for it)

- in fact, you love when natalie flashes you because you just fucking love boobs so sometimes if you’re doing something around the house she’ll just say “hey babe” and next thing she’s lifting her shirt for you

- whatever you’re doing then gets forgotten cause you’re asking her to put them in your mouth

- honestly, you’ll give her a go wherever and whenever you can so it’s not uncommon for her to be brushing her teeth with you crouched behind her and a cheek in each hand

- about the reality tv, she’ll be sat back watching while you’re kneeling with your tongue buried in her (sometimes you have to pause cause you get too invested in the show)

- she loves buying lingerie for you to slip to the side when she’s face down ass up in your bed

- one last one, she has called you daddy in bed before and you came in record time (once again, regardless of gender)

[nolita-fairytale]

comfort & chaos | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter six: home

summary: takes place after 'make my heart surrender' ends (so if you haven't read the series, you can do so here). after surprising carmy at the restaurant, he has something really important to tell you. (the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you)

warnings: time jump, fluff, 'i love you', smut (18+ mdni), no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language, not proofread -- will probably go back and make some edits

word count: 3.9k

listen to: no such thing - john mayer | you're the best - wet | pancakes for dinner - lizzy mcalpine | want want - maggie rogers

a/n: hi it's me! i'm tired of breaking my own heart are you tired of me breaking your hearts?!! if you're wondering what the heck happened between chapter 5 & 6, make sure to read 'make my heart surrender' or at least, this final chapter!

didn't think you were getting smut with this final chapter?! gotcha!! i had to take some DEEP breaths while writing this. thank you so much for all of the kind comments, external screaming, and dms about this series. i love you all sm. here's is thee much needed and well-deserved fluffy chapter where carmy finally says (redacted).

read: chapter five | masterlist

“God I fuckin’ love you.” 

Your words echo in Carmy’s head all shift, and he doesn’t know why he hasn’t said it back yet. 

The restaurant has been slow for lunch, and in every single moment he’s had to think about it, the words felt like they were on the tip of his tongue:

I love you. 

I love you too. 

I love you and I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. 

But what was he supposed to do? Tell you in the middle of your mise en place? Follow you into the walk-in and tell you there? He almost regrets not just saying it back right then and there – the minute he realized that you and Richie were both pulling a prank on him. Carmy decides that telling you here, at the restaurant just won’t do – just wouldn’t be romantic enough – and he knows you deserve more than that. 

As you finish up your prep for dinner service, you eye Carmy carefully. He looks totally wrapped up in thought, and you can’t imagine what he must be thinking this hard about. You’re here. You can’t believe you’re here. And you could care less about anything else right now.

“How ya doin?” you ask him, pulling him from his thoughts. 

He doesn’t know if you can see it on his face – that he’s thinking way too hard about this. 

“Uh, I’m-. Just thinkin’ about strategy… for dinner service,” he lies, trying his best to throw you off his trail. 

“Okay,” you reply, unconvinced. 

But it’s clear that he’s not going to give you much more than that.  

“You should go home,” he blurts out. His response takes you by surprise, and as soon as he realizes it sounds like he doesn’t want you here, his face softens, quick to course correct. 

“I just mean-, you must be tired. From the drive. As much as I appreciate the help…” he trails off. “It’s been slow today anyways. You should take my key and head home. If you want. Get some rest.”

Home. 

You smile in response at the sound of it, knowing that, after today, Chicago is your home. 

“You sure?” you ask him. 

“Yeah,” he insists. “If it stays this slow, I may even be able to get home early.”

You’re sure you have the silliest grin on your face as you hear the word again. 

Because this is your home now. 

Because Carmy is your home now too. 

“Well, if you insist,” you say with a shrug. 

“I do,” he says back, a seriousness in his voice. 

“Okay,” you giggle in response, agreeing to his demand. 

Carmy’s always trying to take care of you. It’s one of the things you love the most about him. Whether he’s asking you if he can make you something or asking to walk you home, you’ve always known that this is how he shows his love. 

You and Carmy both wash your hands, and he follows you towards the locker area, watching you hang up your apron in the locker that will now be yours. He busies himself with finding his apartment keys while you gather your things. 

“I kinda missed this place,” you say, even though you’ve only been gone three weeks. 

“Yeah?” he asks, a light in his eyes as he watches you. 

It feels surreal: seeing you here, knowing that you’ll be at his place when he gets back, that he gets to keep you. 

“Yeah. And maybe even some of the people too,” you smirk, cheekily. 

Carmy blushes, taking a few steps towards you with his keys in hand. 

“Need the address?” he asks. 

“I remember how to get back there,” you reassure him, playfully. 

It hadn’t been that long since you walked home with Carmy the night that changed it all: the night he’d made you his carbonara, the night that feelings were revealed, the night you made love. You’d followed him back to his apartment two nights in a row after that, letting yourself surrender to this thing between you that you’d both spent over two years fighting. And you’d let him take you to bed each night, getting lost in the way he smelled, the way he tasted, the way his skin felt against yours. 

You’re still in shock over how much has changed in your life in the last month alone.

It felt like heaven. 

It feels like heaven. 

And you wonder what took you both so fucking long.

At the same time, you know it happened exactly when it was supposed to happen – that anything before this wouldn’t have worked. 

As Carmy hands you his keys, you give him a goodbye kiss, the tension between the two of you palpable. It’s the kind of ‘I can’t wait to get you alone’ tension and you can’t wait till he gets off his shift – your thoughts filled with all the things you want to do with him when you finally do. 

It takes a while to leave the restaurant – everyone wanting to get in their hello or goodbye in – before you’re on your way home to Carmy’s apartment. On the drive there, you laugh to yourself about how the staff of The Bear have been betting on how long it’d take for you to come back. It fills you with a sense of warmth, confirming that this was exactly the move you needed to make. Since it’s close by, and you still have your stupid fucking U-HAUL, it doesn’t take long to get back to Carmy’s apartment. You make a mental note to find a good storage container to rent out so you don’t have to lug this thing around while you look for a place. 

By the time you get into his apartment, suitcase in hand, it’s clear to you that Carmy wasn’t expecting you. His home is messier than you remember it being when you left three weeks ago, but it’s not so intolerable that it’s maddening. 

You put something on the TV in the background, while you unwind, taking a shower then tidying up a little bit around the apartment. You let yourself enjoy the simplest of pleasures: your favorite pair of sweatpants that you can’t believe he’s kept, and a comfy bralette you’ve packed at the top of your suitcase. 

But it all starts to hit you as you start slowing down: after spending the night in Cleveland, you’d driven all morning to Chicago, jumped in on the line for dinner prep. You’ve barely had a moment to slow down and holy shit, are you exhausted. It doesn’t take more than a few episodes of Pasta Grannies for you to pass out on the couch. Carmy’s YouTube playback is set to autoplay, and as your eyelids become progressively heavier, you promise yourself you’re just going to close your eyes for a few moments… 

“Hi sweetheart,” you hear a voice say, causing you to slowly blink your eyes open. 

“Carm?” you mumble, only half awake. “Is it you? You’re really here?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Did I wake you?” he whispers, letting out a small laugh. 

You giggle as Carmy comes into your line of sight. He’s perched on the edge of the couch as you reach for one of his hands so that you can touch him. 

“Yeah, but I’m glad you did. What time is it?” you ask, becoming more and more awake by the minute. 

“Ten-thirty. Business picked up a ton for dinner.”

“Damn.”

“So much for getting off early.” 

You hum in response, sitting up momentarily to grab his hands, pulling him towards. Carmy smiles, laying his body over yours, before leaning in for the softest, gentlest kiss. 

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he smiles back at you, the words just on the tip of his tongue. 

I love you too.

You pull him back in for another kiss, this time deepening it. You laugh again, as Carmy breaks the kiss, an inquisitive look plastered to his face. 

“What?” he questions. 

“Nothing. You smell like hot giardiniera,” you giggle as your lips twist into a smile against his. 

He laughs, “Yeah?’

“Uh huh,” you say. 

“I’ll shower,” he suggests, playfully. 

“No, no it’s okay. I’m kinda into it,” you reply, earning another chuckle from him. 

“It’s okay,” Carmy replies, shaking his head. He places a peck on your lips before sitting up properly, earning a groan from you as he pulls away. “I’m gonna hop in the shower. Maybe we can move this to uh… my bedroom?”

“Are you putting the moves on me, Berzatto?” you tease him, shooting him a playful look.

“No! I just meant-, since I know you must be tired-,” he stammers, a blush running across your cheeks. 

You shake your head, sitting up to reassure him with another kiss. 

“I’m kidding,” you say with a chuckle. “And I’m also starving. 

“Yeah?” he sounds. 

“How about this? Why don’t you jump in the shower and I’ll order us a pizza. I’m sure we can find something to do while we wait for it to get here,” you say suggestively. 

Oh. 

“Sounds great,” he agrees with a quick raise of his eyebrows. 

You watch as Carmy disappears into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling your ears, you scroll around a little for a good pizza spot nearby. You settle on something New York style out of habit, ordering a few things for delivery. 

By the time Carmy gets out of the shower, you’ve curled up with yourself in his bed, scrolling around on your favorite social media app. You let out a whistle as soon as Carmy enters the room with only a towel tied around his waist. You can tell he’s tried his best to dry his hair, running the towel through his perfect curls a few times. You’ve got all this pent up sexual energy, and seeing Carmy like this, all hot, nearly-naked, and wet is really doing it for you. 

Hell, he could be in a full hazmat suit and the man would do it for you. 

You watch as he rummages through his dresser, searching for a t-shirt and a pair of briefs, but there’s no fucking way you’re letting him get dressed. You toss your phone to the side, standing up from where you are on the bed.

As you approach, you snake your arms around his waist, stopping him in his tracks. He cannot believe this is real: that you’re here, in his bed, in the sweatpants that he knows you love. That you’re here to stay. That you’re here and you’re his. 

“Hey,” he says, his lips twisting into a smile as you begin to leave soft kisses across the back of his shoulders. 

“Hey, yourself,” you reply, nipping at the skin you’ve just kissed. 

Carmy hisses at the feel of your teeth, letting out a laugh that seems to rumble in his throat. 

“Can I help you with something?” he teases you. 

He feels your lips curl into a smile against his skin, smirking in response. 

I fucking love you too. 

But before he can say anything, your hands are pushing his towel down past his hips, desperately envious of the way the material clings to him. 

“Mhm,” you hum. “I think you know.”

He lets the towel fall to the floor, and Carmy groans as you wrap your hand around his hard on, hissing as he feels you pump him a few times. 

“Seems like you’ve been thinkin the same thing,” you say again, feeling how hard he already is. 

He bites into his lower lip, his eyes rolling towards the back of his head as he enjoys the way you touch him. 

“Been thinkin’ about this all day, sweetheart.”

“Well…” you trail off. “I’d love to hear more about what’s been on your mind.”

“Yeah?” he croaks out, the pleasure you’re bringing him causing him to short circuit. 

“Yes,” you sigh out, wound up with desire. 

Finally, Carmy turns around, grabbing the back of your head and pulling you in for a passionate, lust-filled kiss. His lips are on yours like he’s been starving, as if nothing would satiate him the way tasting you will. You open your mouth, deepening the kiss, as you feel his tongue slide against yours. Carmy begins backing you up towards the bed, guiding you down to his mattress. 

“Had this on my mind since you left Chicago,” he mumbles, his pupils wide, fully blown out in lust. 

“Me too,” you manage to get out. 

He leans in once more, pressing his lips to yours once more. You drag your teeth against his bottom lip, before he breaks the kiss, his mouth and hands searching for real estate lower. Carmy leaves hot, open mouthed kisses along your breasts, your torso, and you’re practically pulling off your bralette like it’s burning your skin. 

“Been thinkin’ about this. You…” he admits, his voice hoarse. 

You gasp in pleasure as Carmy drags the sweatpants, along with your panties, down over your hips, tossing them who knows where behind him. 

“... tasting you.” 

You moan as he positions himself between your legs, kneeling on the floor, his chest pressed to the bed. Your legs quake with anticipation as you feel his hot breath fan over your core. Every moment he spends making you wait is killing you. 

“Carmy, please,” you beg, as he begins leaving soft kisses along your inner thighs. You can tell he’s making himself wait too, building the anticipation so that when he lets himself have you… 

“Carmen!” you moan. 

He practically groans against you as he uses the tip of his tongue to trace your clit.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he muses, before burying himself between your thighs again. 

His mouth is on you, tracing little shapes with his tongue, licking up and down your progressively wet core, while his hands keep your legs spread wide. 

All for him. 

He continues to eat you out, completely enraptured with the way you taste, the way your moans and gasps sound, the way you say his name, calling out for him and only him. As he slips a finger inside of you, you bury your hands in his hair, your hips thrusting up into his hand and against his mouth. 

“Holy fuck, Carmy,” you gasp, your mind completely taken over with the pleasure he’s giving you. 

He can tell that you’re close, adding another finger, taking note that you seem to like it even more. It’s as if he’s memorized every single thing you loved, everything that seemed to make you tick, and applied it to this time. 

“Carmy, I’m gonna-,” you cry out, your legs shaking as he brings you over the edge. 

You’re gasping, writhing against the bed, your legs still pushed wide by tatted hands as you begin to come down. You look down, tugging Carmy’s hair to bring him back up to you. When he finally looks back up at you, he’s grinning, completely satisfied with the pleasure he’s brought you. He makes his way back up, laying his very naked body over top of yours, leaning in for another kiss. 

You can taste yourself on his lips, and he doesn’t know if it’s possible to get harder than he is. 

“That’s what you were thinking about?” you whispered against his lips, spreading your legs to make room for him. You can feel his hard, aching cock against your wet center, and if you think you’ll die if he’s not inside of you as soon as possible. 

“All day.” 

He kisses you, nipping at your top lip momentarily, before continuing with:

“Haven’t stopped thinkin’ about it, actually.” 

That and something else. 

Three words he can’t seem to get out. 

Even though they’re begging to be said. 

You reach down, wrapping a hand around him, sliding his thick tip against you so that he can feel how wet and needy you are for him. 

“I can think of a few other things I want,” you beg him, feeling him shudder against you as you drag the tip of his cock over you again and again. 

“And what’s that?” Carmy asks you cheekily. 

Instead of answering, you guide him into you, earning a gasp from the both of you as he splits you open. Carmy takes his time pushing into you, making sure to pause when he’s fully seated inside of you. 

Your eyes are locked with his, allowing yourself to get totally lost inside of the pools of blue. You’re sighing out in pleasure, squeezing around him, your lips so fucking close to touching it’s near-painful. Carmy begins to slide out of you at a dangerously slow pace, thrusting into you, deeper each time. You’re pulling him down to you, and it’s as if you can’t get enough – enough of his mouth on yours, enough of him to hold onto – even though you have all of him. 

You’d let him consume all of you if he wanted to, you think to yourself, as he swallows your moans in his mouth.

It’s tangled legs, and tangled tongues, and whispered pleas. 

“God, you feel so good,” he grunts, burying his head in your neck as he speeds up. You can tell the both of you are close – that all the pent up sexual energy means that neither of you will last long. 

But you don’t care. 

You’ve got all the time in the world now. 

“Carmy,” you whine, desperate for him to let you cum.

You know you have his attention, as he raises his head, locking eyes with you again. 

“I want you to fuck me from behind,” you whisper, desperately. 

“Fuck. That’s so hot,” he groans, his eyes wide.

Unwillingly, he peels his body off of yours, letting you sit up straight. He thinks he may have died and gone to heaven as he watches you turn around, kneeling on all fours over his bed. His hands immediately go to your ass, dragging calloused palms over the curve of it as he kneels behind you. 

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” he gasps, guiding himself back into you. 

He thinks the sight alone may send him to an early grave as you bow your back, your ass still high as you press your chest against the bed. 

“Your ass is fucking incredible,” Carmy says, pulling out slowly, before thrusting back into you with a force that makes you cry out. 

“Carmen,” you whimper, your legs shaking beneath you. 

This feels too good. 

“Hmm?” he asks, his hands smoothing over your low back, following the way your back seems to arch in pleasure. 

“Fuck me. Please.” 

He knows he won’t last much longer. His hands hold onto your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing into your skin as he begins to speed up. It feels unreal, incredible, being this deep inside of you. And he gets to watch: watch the way you arch your back, watch your body respond to every single thrust, watch you grasp at the sheets and pillows, searching for something to hold onto. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna last long, baby,” he stutters out, his thrusts becoming more erratic as you beg him to keep going. 

“Please, Carmen. That feels so goddamn good,” you plead with him, face down into his sheets. 

“Shit. Fuck,” he howls, his voice booming against all corners of the room. 

Carmy places the gentlest hand against your low back, as if it to ask you to lay down, laying his body over yours from behind. He pauses, because it just feels too damn good, and he wants to revel in this moment before this ends. Ever so slowly, he begins to drag his cock in and out of you at the most torturously slow pace. His mouth leaves small kisses against your shoulders, nipping at your soft skin as he continues to make love to you. 

“Faster, Carmy. Please. I’m gonna cum,” you pant. 

You’re not sure just how much more patient you can get here. You feel him begin to speed up, and you’re moaning into his mattress against, begging for him to make you cum. He can feel you squeezing around him, and the sight of himself fucking into you really isn’t helping either. 

“Fuck,” he manages to get out, his hips beginning to stutter against your ass. 

“Yes. Whatever you want. I’ll give you whatever you want,” he repeats, earning the most blissful ‘Carmy’ from your lips he’s ever heard. 

“Baby, I’m so close,” you whine. 

“Yes, me too. Yes. Fuck, I love you,” he calls out, shutting his eyes as he cums. 

He can feel you shuddering around him, as he fucks you through your orgasm too, completely unaware of the words that have flown out of his mouth. 

You’re both panting, breathless from what you’ve just done, as you begin to come down. 

“Holy shit,” he finally says, leaning his forehead against the back of your shoulder. 

“You can say that again,” you chuckle, trying to catch your breath. 

“Can we do this tomorrow? And the day after that?” you ask, playfully, turning your head to kiss him. “And the day after that?”

Carmy smiles, “Absolutely.”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to get cleaned up and back into comfy clothes. Carmy knows there’s no point in fighting you for your favorite pair of his sweatpants as he picks out another pair, remaining shirtless for your viewing pleasure. The pizza arrives shortly after, and you find yourself in bed, with the man you’ve loved for so long, getting a much-needed refuel break. 

“You know I hate eating in bed,” Carmy points out, watching you get crumbs all over his sheets. 

“Yeah, well I’m getting my own place so… that’s a future problem for you and me,” you answer, without a single care in the world. 

“For when we move in together?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

It’s almost as if he’s testing the waters – seeing if that’s something that’s still on your mind. 

“Right,” you confirm, confidently. 

But you’re in. 

You’re all in. 

It seems like you’ve passed whatever test he’s given you as the corners of his lips curl into the softest smile. 

“You know… you live in Chicago now,” he teases, in reference to your choice of pizza. 

You scoff in response, throwing in a playful eye roll for dramatic effect. 

“Oh fuck you.” 

He laughs. 

You eat quietly, enjoying your first night in Chicago as a resident. You watch as Carmy’s face changes, as if he’s trying to find the right words to say what’s on his mind. Instead of asking, you wait, knowing that he’ll bring it up when he finds them. 

“Hey uh…” he starts, hesitantly. “I just want you to know… that I… I meant what I said earlier.”

The more serious tone he uses piques your curiosity as you stare back at him blankly, unsure of what he's referring to.

“What do you mean?” you ask back.

Carmy takes another beat, pausing as he musters up the courage to clarify with:

“That I love you. I didn’t want you to think I just said it because… well you know.”

Because you were naked.

Because he got caught up in the moment.

Because he was inside of you.

He licks his lips, before opening his mouth to say it again: 

“I love you.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, his eyes are on you, watching your face for any kind of reaction.

But you’re beaming as you hear them and it all begins to make sense. It was something you’d said earlier, but the fact that he hadn’t said it back hadn’t been on your mind. Is this what he’d been thinking about all day? You just figured he'd say it back when he was ready.

You shake your head, a grin plastered to your face as you reply,

“I know, silly. I love you too.”

Fin. 

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         — i'll win him over

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Requested by anonymous: HIIIIIII!!!! Oh boy am I excited. Okay so now it's my turn for James Keene 🤩. Can I please request a story (it's a bit specific, but I've just finished peaky blinders and can't get it out of my head) which takes place after Jimmy has gotten out of jail. The reader has an older brother (think like Richie Boyle from the Outfit..it could even be him if thats okay with you) who runs a similar business like the one Jimmy used to, but they both hate each other. Nevertheless Jimmy falls for his sister which wounds up to be tough for both men. If you want the reader can have more brothers who run the business. THANK YOU FOR YOIR TIME I HOPE THAT WASNT CONFUSING LMAO BYEEEEE

pushed back in time to the 50s I believe, not in the same universe as Black Bird, someone should request for Richie Boyle 👀 *wink wink, request for richie boyle babe-* also, no smut!! i wasn't really in the mood for smut, sorry anon honey :( also, yes, a bit confusing but it's okay! i hope i did it justice :)

Jimmy's front was a bar that he was a bartender for. It fit, honestly, being a bartender for a drug dealing front. The only thing that didn't fit was the flower shop right next to him his competition always frequented.

Richie was too much of a firecracker to be liked, he had a problem with his anger issues so no matter how many times Jimmy tried to make some sort of alliance, it always ended in Richie getting pissed off and leaving — not before punching one of Jimmy's men though.

Today, he was determined to find out what the hell was so interesting about the flower shop next to his bar. Maybe it was just a ploy to see what he was doing? Figure out if they could steal another shipment?

All of the thoughts were running through his mind as he walked into the flower shop, opening the door to make a bell ring out. All of the smells flooded into his nose, his eyes widening when he saw all of the beautiful flowers and mixed bouquets. They were absolutely beautiful and bright, each flower absolutely perfect with zero wilted petals or leaves.

"Hi, welcome in! I'm so sorry, be there in a minute!" Your voice rings out, Jimmy pausing.

Maybe it wasn't what was so in the shop but who.

"That's alright love!" James slowly walked through the aisles, trying to find you in the entirety of all of the flowers that could've blinded him if they were lights. For fucks sake, they were all beautiful. You put together different colors and textures, one bright bouquet of roses and sunflowers catching his eye.

"That was my first bouquet I made," you say, walking toward him with a smile. "N-Not that one exactly, but the roses and the sunflowers. They're one of my favorites."

"It's beautiful." James said, smiling as he looked back at you. "I'm James, I run the bar next door."

You pause but take his hand and give it a firm shake. "Y/N. Nice to meet you. What can I do for you, James?"

"Well, I'm not sure if you know, but I run more of the high-end bars in town, and someone is always asking why we don't have centerpieces in the VIP rooms." James makes up the lie quickly, smiling down at her. "It doesn't have to be very big, and you will have full creative freedom if that helps guide your decision. All I ask is that they are different every week."

"Oh. Oh wow, when would you need the flowers? Come with me," you say, keeping his hand in yours and pulling him to the back. "Is there any color scheme that you want? Or a limit in price?"

"No, again, full freedom. Anything you want, I'll just pay every week." He smiled at you as you pursed your lips, humming.

"Well, it wouldn't be weekly. If anything, it would be biweekly, I make sure my flowers last longer than a week. There's a special element in the water." You say, writing down some ideas in some pretty handwriting. "Each bouquet would range anywhere from thirty to one hundred each. Is that okay?"

"Perfectly fine. I would only need eight each order because it's strictly for VIP rooms."

“Oh, gotcha! I can do that,” you smile one of the prettiest smiles he had ever seen. “I can get these for you in two days. Sound good?”

“Very good, love. Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

The bell rings making you look up, yelling out, “In the back!”

“Y/N! Where are you?!”

You rolled your eyes. “In the back!”

“Oi, you seen that-” Richie paused when he saw James, gaping. “Why the fuck are you here?!”

“Richie! Go away, he’s a customer!” You yell, quickly standing up straight. “James, I will have these flowers for you soon, okay?”

“No you won’t!” Richie comes between you both after you go around the desk, shaking his head. “You stay the fuck away from my sister.”

James paused, looking from you to Richie. “She’s too pretty to be your sister.”

“Haha, very fucking funny! She’s adopted, you asshole, leave her the fuck alone!”

“Richie, stop!” You say, pushing him as hard as you could. “I’m so sorry, James, ignore him.”

“I will,” James smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

It makes you smile, nodding. “Yes. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“No he won’t!”

“Shut up, Richie!”

After that, you saw him a lot more. James came to see you every day, it was just a matter of time before something happened.

It started off slow, soft kisses behind closed doors and light touches when no one was looking, but Jimmy wanted to change that. You were the first girl he actually wanted to get serious with, he wanted to be able to go out on dates with you without risking being punched by your brother.

Maybe that's the reason why he stood in front of your house, ready to meet Richie and then your dad to continue to court you. It was something stupid he normally didn't believe in, but he wanted to do it right.

So, as soon as he passed the gates, he really did expect the punch he got straight to the face.

"You kissed my sister you bastard?!"

"Rich! Richie, you leave him alone!" You tried to yell, gasping as James shoved him.

"Don't fucking hit me!" He shouted, wiping at his mouth with a sigh. "I came to get your respect, not your approval."

"You don't have any of that, get out!" Richie goes in for another hit before Jimmy caught his wrist, shoving him.

"Listen to me!" James shoved him again, looking over his shoulder to stare at you being held back by one of his henchmen. "I love your sister, even if you don't know anything about that shit."

"Don't you fucking-"

"I'm going to be with her no matter what." Jimmy smiled back at you before glaring at your brother. "So, you better learn how to fucking live with it."

His words make you smile widely, giggling. "Move, Richie!"

Reluctantly, he does with a shout of your father, letting you run forward and into Jimmy's arms. "Oh my, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'll take more than a punch to be with you." He smiled as you giggled, pressing a firm kiss to his lips. "I'll win him over, I promise."

"You better, or he might just kill you!"

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