#the way shes like richie<333

[love-quinn]

— REPAYMENTS

summary — carmen accidentally loses his chance with you after you all-but ask him out. luckily for him, you're sitting two tables away from the kitchen he runs.

warnings — swearing, smoking, i think that's it?

pairing — carmen berzatto x fem!reader

pronouns — she/her, reader is explicitly mentioned to be a girl

word count — 2.2k

note — i am still finding my footing writing for carmen so this has just been trial and error, i hope you enjoy this!!! thank you for 100 followers, i appreciate it so much omg <333

It's fairly well-agreed upon that family and business should never be mixed. Whoever said that had probably never met Natalie Berzatto. His sister infuriates him, but if Carmen is being honest that’s usually because she’s just there. She doesn’t pick fights, but she will call him out on his bullshit, even if he doesn’t appreciate it in the moment. Out of all of his relatives to be closely working with, Sugar was probably his best option.

No, it was far more likely that the coiner of that phrase did meet Richie.

Carmen loved Richie deep down. He would do a lot for Richie, and he’s seen firsthand that Richie would do a lot for him. But it’s really hard to remember that when Carmen’s having to leave the kitchen to go and talk to a table because something’s gone wrong.

“‘I’ll handle it,’” he mocks Richie under his breath. “‘Calm the fuck down, Carmen, I’m Richie and I’ll handle it even though I’m fucking incompetent.’” He abandons his station to go out into the dining room, already feeling a headache brewing behind his eyes. “Handle it, my ass.”

It’s a fairly simple problem to sort out, just an old man who was bound to complain about something wanting to talk to the owner about it. Carmen smiles and nods and apologizes and makes a note to comp that part of the meal and go chain smoke about it later. 

It’s not the interaction that causes Carmen’s chest to constrict, it’s what he sees on the way in. 

Usually, Carmen is safely in the back. He stays in his section, he spends each night being hyper aware of everything that goes on in the kitchen, and he doesn’t have to worry about anything outside of the kitchen (it took a second for that last part to be true, but he does trust Richie and Natalie enough to handle things out in the dining room. 

But of course he happens to be out in the dining room on the same night that you’re there.

He almost didn’t recognise you, the room isn’t very well-lit and he only met you once. It was about two weeks ago, but he’s thought about it quite a lot since. It had been two in the morning and he didn’t even remember what he’d needed but he’d ended up at the 24-hour convenience store down the street from his place. 

The fluorescent lights had been flickering and you had been standing right in front of the refrigerator he needed. You had been browsing the fucking chips or something and Carmen was too busy controlling the tapping of his foot so you wouldn’t hear it.

“Sorry, am I in your way?”

His head snapped up, eyes locking with yours. “Yeah.”

You tried not to frown at his bluntness, just raising your eyebrows and moving out of the way. Carmen yanked open the fridge door, rubbing his face to stop his eyes from drooping closed. He’d just left the restaurant and just wanted milk before he went home. His hand dropped and he opened his eyes to look for the milk only to find the slider-shelf thing that contained his usual stuff was completely empty. “Fuck.”

You were a few feet away, still making your way down the aisle, but you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. The last bottle of yellow-capped milk is currently sitting in the basket dangling from your elbow. You finished up and decided to just make your way to the front, cutting your losses about getting more snacks.

You’re not usually up at 2am, but one of your friends was stopping by in the city for a few days and the two of you had gotten home from a late movie still wanting to spend time together so you’d ducked down to the store for some more snacks. 

You had put a few of your items on the counter for the store clerk to scan by the time he got to the front, and you pretend not to notice him. The clerk looked so exhausted you didn’t even try to make small talk, just flashing him a soft smile while he put your stuff in a plastic bag. While you were paying, the clerk turned his head to the guy behind you to see what he wanted. 

It was the guy from the fridge and he mumbled something about cigarettes. The clerk handed you back your card and your receipt before turning back to the cabinet for the cigarettes.

Carmen didn’t even care they didn’t have the usual type he liked, he just needed a smoke soon or his chest would cave in. He slapped the bills on the counter, grabbed the pack and was out the door before you had turned around. 

He smoked almost directly outside the door to the store, and you had to walk past him to get back to your building. Usually, when guys were dicks out in public to you, you’d ignore it and you’d move on. But this guy looked so defeated that you almost felt bad for him. 

He was sitting on the sidewalk, head buried between his knees. You tried not to make it obvious that you were looking at him but he looked so sad that you felt a begrudging amount of empathy for him. You dug the bottle of milk out of your bag and put it on the sidewalk next to him.

Carmen’s head shot up at the sound, looking back and forth between you and the bottle. “What?”

“You look like you need it more than I do.” If you were being honest, it did make you feel a little smug that he was slightly rude to you earlier and now you were being nice to him, but it was mostly out of concern.

Carmen’s mouth was dry, and he swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, hauling himself to his feet with the bottle in hand. “No, you don’t have to do that. Take your milk.”

“I don’t even want it,” you said. “Seriously, dude.”

Carmen looked down at the bottle of milk in his hand. “Now I feel bad for being an ass.”

You nodded. “You should.”

Carmen gave a tired laugh and you finally noticed how bright his blue eyes were, even in the dark street. “I’m usually not. An asshole, I mean. Well, no, actually. I… am making this worse.”

You watched him, amused, and Carmen felt his throat constrict at the sound of your laugh. “Way to sell yourself. You’re really making a meal out of this, aren’t you?”

“It’s what I do best,” he said absentmindedly. “I’m, uh, Carmen.” He tried to shake your hand but with the cigarette in one and the milk in the other, he couldn’t find a way to do it. Then he had the thought that nobody shakes hands anymore, and felt stupid for the whole thing. 

You weren’t in the habit of giving your name to strangers, especially not men you met outside the convenience store at two in the morning. “Just Carmen?”

Carmen hadn’t expected that to be your response, and he blacked out for a half second where he forgot his own last name, “Berzatto.” 

“Carmen Berzatto.” You nodded, knowing to give the name to your friend later, just for safety. You told him your own name, not bothering to shake his hand. 

You dug around in your purse quickly, grabbing your receipt and hoping you had a pen. You didn’t but you did find an old eyeliner in the bottom that would work. Carmen had taken a stance of leaning against the wall, smoking his cigarette and trying not to fall asleep standing up. If he was honest, he assumed you’d walk away after that, so he was surprised when he felt you press a piece of paper into his hand. “Your receipt. For the milk” Your smile was sweet and he didn’t even process that you’d scrawled your phone number on the back until you’d walked away.

That had been two weeks ago, and he hadn’t seen you since.

He bursts back through the kitchen. You’re sitting at table nine with two other women, and his number one priority is finding Richie. Or Natalie, someone who works out in the dining room and can do what he needs them to. 

Richie, as if he heard Carmen’s mental plea, is right behind him. “I need two more mushroom risotto for table fifteen and for table nine-”

“Cousin,” Carmen interrupts. “The, uh, table nine. They’re not gonna pay.”

Richie took that the wrong way, leaning down to talk right in Carmen’s ear conspiratorially. “They’re dashers? You want me to take ‘em down? I’ll go out there and fuck them up, you give me two seconds and twenty dollars and I’ll-”

“Richie!” Carmen shoved him. “No, they’re…” He’s been so pissed off with Richie lately, more so than usual. He’d gone back to the restaurant the day after meeting you, dumping his jacket in his office, receipt on the desk with every intention to at least text you during his break.

And then Richie had spit his gum into the receipt and thrown it out. 

“Listen. One of the girls, she’s… They’re just eating for free, okay?” Carmen lets himself sound desperate, maybe that will stop Richie from making fun of him.

Richie looks down at him, eyebrows raised. “You… alright, yeah. Good. Don’t make your girl pay. Good. Does she know you run this place?” 

Carmen shakes his head. “No, I kinda messed things up with her. I need everything to go good tonight, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Richie saluted. “You got it, cousin. Food’ll be good she’ll forget what a massive prick you are.”

That’s probably the best he’s gonna get, so he takes it. Then, he gets to work. He gets your order from Richie and the kitchen makes it in record time. Then, when it’s done, Carmen makes sure he’s the one to run the food.

You didn’t know what you’d been expecting when your friends had invited you out to a new restaurant, but it hadn’t been to see the guy you’d met at a convenience store in the middle of the night to be presenting you with your meal.

You’d liked Carmen, but it had been a while and you only met him for a few minutes. Once the sting of rejection had worn off, you’d almost forgotten about the encounter. He puts your dinner in front of you and practically bows. “Carmen,” you muse, mostly just taken aback. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“I’m the owner,” he says, trying to ignore the way your friends are looking at him. “I saw you and I… I’m not really good at this shit, but I, uh. I meant to call you.” He sounds earnest, and he looks somewhat embarrassed by the amount of eyes on him. “I wanted to, I just lost your number and I didn’t know how else to talk to you but I wanted to call you.”

You watch Carmen as he speaks and the longer you’re silent, the worse he feels about it. He can’t read the expression on your face and he’s really regretting insisting that he walked your meals, he should’ve just sent Richie. But he also knew that it would seem more genuine if he did it in person. 

“So far you’re oh-for-two in terms of not looking like an asshole,” your tone is light and a bright smile is worming its way onto your face. Your lipgloss shines under the light and Carmen can’t stop looking at it. 

Carmen swallows, wiping his hands as inconspicuously on his pants. “Would it make it better if I told you that I already got your meals comped?”

“I mean,” you say, tilting your head up at him. “Yeah, that’ll do it, yeah.”

“I owe it to you,” he points out. “For the milk. Let me just go grab your receipt, enjoy your meals.” He flashes an awkward smile over at the two women you’re with, not noticing the way you’re looking up at him.

He walks away and your eyes follow him back into the kitchen. You had just assumed he didn’t really like you, so the idea that maybe he liked you so much he was willing to give you complimentary meals slightly overwhelmed you. Your friends swarm you the second he’s gone and you relay your very limited history with Carmen.

You almost forgot what it feels like to be in the earliest stages of romance. Slightly awkward flirting, fleeting glances, the butterflies in your stomach when you realize that the other person likes you just as much as you like them.

You don’t know much about Carmen aside from the fact that he’s apparently an insomniac who owns and runs a restaurant, has really pretty eyes and likes you. That was the part that got you. He likes you enough to come out and talk to you.

In fact, he likes you so much that once he goes back in the kitchen he dodges Richie’s attempts at a high five, and prints out your now-free bill. He likes you so much that he digs through his desk for the only working pen to scribble something on the bottom where the tip number would usually be. And, something that makes you positively giddy, he likes you so much that when he hands you the check with his number printed towards the bottom.

[orbitariums]

warmth | art donaldson + patrick zweig + black fem reader (a snippet)

full length part 1 here!

i miss posting on here real bad and i keep teasing things (christopher moltisanti, richie jerimovich) and not actually writing/releasing them SO i'm putting this snippet of this oneshot i'm writing to encourage myself to actually put this out.

i think this will probably have multiple parts because the tension needs to builddd. and please, let me know y'alls thoughts!!! what do you think, what do you predict is gonna happen, r u thirsting adequately, etc. i love hearing your little comments <333

& let me know if you’d wanna be tagged when this comes out

essentially: reader, patrick and art were childhood best friends who conveniently were all in love with each other, or at least had enough sexual tension to make it feel that way. fast forward almost a decade later, and reader has made it onto the red carpet with her fantastic pen, and patrick and art have gone pro. when she invites them to her house for a star-studded friendsgiving, tensions rise and old doors open, springing forth new possibilities. this is only the beginning.

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warmth

“We should just turn around now, save ourselves the embarrassment.”

Patrick paid Art no mind, rolling down the window and leaning out of it, pressing the buzzer as you had dutifully instructed them in your email invite. 

“Too late now. Already threw away about a gallon of gas just coming up the hill to this place,” he replied, the sense of ease in his voice only egging Art on even more. 

“Exactly why we should leave. I mean, fuck. Does she have to live on a hill?”

“Residence of [last name], to whom am I speaking?” a male voice rings on the other end. 

“Uh…” Patrick starts, Art reaching up over him, 

“Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson?”

A silence filled the air. Patrick swatted at Art, forcing him back in his seat. 

“Why’d you say it like a question, dumbass?”

Art stammered, already starting to get red in the face,

“I was --”

The gate swung open and both the boys let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you!” Patrick chimed, smirking at Art, who seemed to be sinking in his seat. 

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Meanwhile, you were inside the mansion that you call home, flowing around the kitchen like there weren’t about fifty people milling about and mingling amongst one another. It smelled like something out of Hansel and Gretel -- from the fragrant brown roasted turkey sitting in the oven, to the gourmand scent of perfectly caramelized candied yams, to the vanilla musk perfume you dotted on your wrists. A black mini Schnauzer nipped excitedly at your feet as you added half a cherry tomato to the giant bowl of salad you’ve been prepping for the last twenty minutes. You look like a pro, like a party of this magnitude is no big deal to you.

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“Do we ring the doorbell? Or maybe… should we knock?” Art questioned, hands tied behind his back as he glanced up at Patrick for answers. 

“It’s open,” Patrick retorted, but he too stood stupefied at the door, like a weary traveler wavering in horrific awe before the mouth of some epic beast. 

“On three?” Art suggested, and when he didn’t hear a response, he started to count, “one… two…”

Patrick stepped in before Art could get to three. Art scoffed, but followed behind him anyway. 

The two of them stood there silently, taking the grandiosity of it all in — the sky-high dome ceiling, two grand wooden staircases directly opposite one another, the shiny verdant porcelain flooring, the Basquiat painting hanging above the wide bookcase directly in front of them. Mouths open, they looked like they were ready to catch flies. 

“Fuuuck me,” Patrick breathed out heavily. Art’s head was stuck staring up at the ceiling, so high he thought it’d never end. 

“You made it.”

Both Art and Patrick seemed to stand straight at the sound of your voice, like soldiers at attention. You almost laughed, but instead you stood there coolly, smiling at them both with your lips and your eyes— in them, a look that was almost knowing, wise beyond your years. It seemed like a lifetime before either of them would speak. They spent half that lifetime practically gawking at you, drinking you in. And how could they not, when you were draped in that cream-colored silk dress, the flowy bottom dancing above your ankles. You looked more beautiful than they remembered you, calmer, secure — of course, they hadn’t seen you since they were teenagers. Now there was this air of timelessness about you that was only just poking at the surface when you were in high school. Now it surrounded you. Something mystic encompassed your entire spirit, dripping from your head to your feet. They’d spent years seeing you from behind a screen, being interviewed on live TV, attending red carpets for award shows, blending in with the Hollywood mecca — another beautiful twenty-something industry talent. But the glow of the television that seemed to give everyone a perfectly filtered sheen was nothing compared to your beauty here. 

“It’s so good to see you,” Patrick broke the silence first, practically lurching forward with open arms to embrace you. His beard scratched against your cheek. You could smell the cologne that was beginning to wear off, mixed with a hint of cigarette smoke. His arms nearly suffocated you.

When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the way he smiled at you so fervently. 

“Good to see you too, Patrick…” you glanced over at the mousy boy who didn’t seem to have changed much since high school. “C’mere, Artie.”

Art chuckled: a nervous huff of relief, inching forward into your open arms and nuzzling his chin into your shoulder, closing his arms around your midwaist. You could smell the aftershave that still clung to his face, and the detergent still fresh from his clothes. 

You pulled away, but took one of each of their hands, squeezing. 

“My two boys. Man, how long has it been?”

“Oh, just a while—”

“Seven years,” Art interjected. 

“Who’s counting, right?” Patrick grinned, making all of you laugh. 

You looked at them almost expectantly, eyes wide like a doe, the slightest smile playing at your lips. They looked back with bated breaths. Always, you were in charge, always. It had been like this since the scabby-kneed days of childhood. If you wanted to play on the swings, they were there on either side of you. You were the queen of the sandbox. In middle school, they snuck extra cookies for you from the lunchroom and fought over who got to surprise you with the treat every day. Senior year of high school, in the hotel room in London, when you had them perched on either side of you like baby birds waiting for mother’s return— when you had both your hands on each of their thighs, had them panting like puppy dogs, inching your hands further and further only to leave the minute you heard “lights out.” 

It had been seven years since then and still, it was the same. Only this time, you were stupidly rich, thanks to the soaring success of your two psychological thriller books turned TV series. It wasn’t that you’d forgotten about them, or didn’t care about them now that you were rich and famous. You’d gotten accepted to study creative writing at Brown, Art went to play at Stanford, and Patrick went on his path to go pro. You were delighted to see that they were only a click away thanks to the internet, just one click away from being reintegrated into your life. Your childhood best friends. 

“C’mon, lunch is almost ready.”

Friendsgiving. Who didn’t love the concept? It was a readily welcomed, wholesome idea — friends of all ages and backgrounds coming together to rehash their Thanksgiving with leftovers, stories from the year, and maybe a game of cards. Except your friendsgiving was attended by A-list actresses, Cannes festival attending screenwriters, and the odd Grammy-nominated artist. And your friendsgiving was not at all an intimate affair — it may as well have been a club party. Most people were outside, dancing, shrieking with laughter, drinking, and skipping their way to their seats. Your backyard was vast and verdant green, with a pool in the center, the perimeter lined with lemon and peach trees, and miles to explore. 

“This is fucking insane, is that Dakota Johnson?” Patrick scoffed. He and Patrick had been left to their own devices yet again, while you flitted around being the hostess with the mostest, easing and gliding about. A laugh here, a clink of glasses there, and a coolness to you that stood in striking comparison with the warmth that stirred deep down inside you. A warmth that could be served with a ladle into goblets, like some elixir with magical properties only you possessed. 

“No, you idiot, that’s— oh shit. That might be Dakota Johnson.” 

Clink clink clink. 

“Everybody, hi, hi! Thank you for coming, please, sit down,” you called out, clinking your glass to get the attention of your guests. Patrick and Art scrambled to find seats, ending up at a table with people who might have been minor celebrities or art critiques or designers -- at least one of those options. 

“I wanna thank you all so much for coming, this really means a lot to me. I know these sorts of things can be really hectic, but you guys make this house feel like a home. I’m glad that some of you will be staying with me for the next few days, there’s always room for more,” you glanced over at Art and Patrick. “Some of you are new friends, some of you I’ve known for far too long. But I think it’s incredibly fucking cool that we’re all here together now in this moment, just enjoying each other’s presence. I do this every year, and every year I meet even more amazing, talented, fascinating people and you all are so dear to my heart. And now, what we’re all waiting for… lunch is served!”

A cacophony of cheers rang out as staff rushed about to place plates in front of everyone. You stood giggling, basking in all of it. Patrick and Art couldn't help but watch on with deeply impressed smiles — you were meant to bask: in glory, in pleasure, in everything. You looked just right standing where you were.

The rest of the afternoon Patrick and Art spent attempting to blend in as best they could. They were pro tennis players, but this was another level of stardom that they couldn’t quite fathom yet. They watched you ruthlessly the entire night, unable to squash those rising feelings of attraction and yearning for you that had never quite simmered to begin with. You’d always been cooler than them, but watching you now there was a certain air to you that belonged to a grown woman, someone comfortable and confident and in their element. You were positively swimming in the sunlight the entire afternoon. It was like you had this sort of magnetic pull to all things good, rich, and warm. People wanted to be around you. And god, did this prove that. 

By night time, people were finally starting to leave. The sun hung low in the darkening sky, making the fairy lights glow stronger now. The few people that were staying with you for the rest of Thanksgiving weekend had disappeared to their rooms. Besides the waitstaff still milling about, clearing the tables, it was just you, Patrick, and Art. The two of them hadn’t meant to stay so long, really. It wasn’t like they were forcing themselves to stick around and be acknowledged by you in a way that felt meaningful. Sure, you’d had your small talk and cracked a few inside jokes, but as much as neither wanted to admit it, they needed more. If it was hard to get your attention before, it was nearly impossible now. They were surrounded by so many people who all wanted to network and talk and introduce themselves, they found themselves mingling with your friends, some of them people who they’d seen on screen in the past year,  more than you. They’d been dragged onto the dance floor multiple times by multiple acquaintances, only to gawk at you swaying your hips rather than actually dance themselves. It became overwhelmingly clear, in their increasingly present desperation, that they should’ve accepted your offer to stay in this castle of a house for the weekend. Neither of them had packed a bag. 

“This is awkward, we’re the only ones left,” Art sighed, still sitting at their table. 

“Let’s just… wait, okay? She might come back out."

"And give us a little speech?"

"Yeah, asshole, maybe she will."

At that very moment, you appeared again, this time clad in a two piece linen pajama set. You didn’t miss the way both their eyes trailed up your legs as you stood in front of them, arms crossed, smiling expectantly. 

“I was hoping you two would still be here,” you said. You glanced between the two of them, that awkward silence filling the air once again. “C’mon. Let’s talk.”

You turned and walked back inside, the two of them trailing behind you.

"Your house is fucking sick by the way. I mean holy shit," Art blurted once you got to the main entrance hall.

"Feel like I just walked into a page of Architectural Digest," Patrick added on.

You led them up the stairs. Both their eyes dropped to your ass, which poked out just a bit from under the pair of shorts you wore. Silently watching the way your body curved as you walked.

"Ha, thanks. I think I did pretty okay for myself," you replied.

You led them to the den on the second floor and sat criss cross apple sauce on the lush green couch. Art sat on your left, Patrick on your right. Patrick spread his legs and Art had one foot up on the couch, bouncing against his knee. 

“Sorry we didn’t get to talk much. I was so busy being the host of the year that I didn’t pay enough attention to you two. My favorites.”

Art chuckled,

“Favorites? You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m serious! D’you know how much I missed you guys?”

Patrick scoffed playfully,

“All those TV interviews I watched of you? I wouldn’t even be thinking about us.”

You couldn’t help but grin, that warmth coming through once again. It nearly made the two men melt. 

“Well I was. I always think about you guys.”

Now came Patrick’s voice again, a heaviness to it that almost made you jump,

“Do you think about anything specific?”

Although it had been nearly a decade since you’d last seen each other, you didn’t miss a single thing about either of them. Patrick didn’t mince words, and he never shied away from not just hinting at, but blaring his salacious intentions every time he spoke. You tilted your head towards him, a cool smile tugging at your lips. 

“Just what good times we had.”

A silence, accented with a flood of nostalgia and a pointed reference to those “good times” permeated the air. You took a moment to gaze at the two of them ever so softly — enough for them to feel it, but not enough to make them squirm (though, they were easy to make squirm) — before you decimated the silence by slapping your hands down on either of their thighs and squeezing endearingly. 

“So tell me, where’ve you two been? I’m not the only one on TV these days.”

“Ahh, you don’t wanna hear about boring tennis,” Art waved a hand of dismissal. 

You chortled, a trademark of yours that Art and Patrick had always poked fun at in school,

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“You still laugh the same,” Patrick said, grinning like he was trying not to but was unable.

You chuckled, this time low in your throat, and turned your head to face him again. You and Patrick were similar in the sense that you were always pushing the boundaries, tiptoeing closer and closer to the line — but the three of you had never quite established where that was. At some point, you were all just too close to even think about “the line” or “boundaries” — all of you appeared clueless to societal expectations of friendship, spurting a sort of cultlike relationship where everyone else was an outsider. 

“Do I?” smiling at him like you were warning him not to tease. 

“Yeah, that little snort you do,” Patrick replied, unshaken. 

“You do do a little snort,” Art chimed in, always chirping like he spoke from a less nefarious place. 

“And if I get started on you guys’ little tennis grunts?” you grinned fully now, showing teeth, looking between the two of them and leaning back a bit.

They followed, leaning back against the couch and keeping their heads in line with yours so you were never too far away from them, each of them turning their heads to look at you. 

“No way you actually watch us,” Art replied.

“I do!” you insisted. “Seriously, if you’d asked anybody here you would know.”

“Sure, let me just strike up conversation with George Clooney,” Art shot back.

“Ha-ha,” you bleated sarcastically. “I don’t even know him… but I have walked past him once on the carpet.”

“Look at you,” Patrick smirked. “Little Miss Superstar.”

He punctuated his sentence with a hand on your knee. Your eyes flickered over to him and you caught the way his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat when he swallowed, felt the way he gazed up at you. You didn’t miss the desire twinkling in his eyes. 

Then Art, always second but not necessarily last, 

“She’s our little superstar, you know that, right?” 

His hand just gently grazing your shoulder.

You let them revel in the moment for as long as you felt appropriate, then huffed.

“You know you guys can stay for the weekend, right? I mean, you should.”

“Oh… no, we wouldn’t wanna impose,” Patrick said, his hand slinking away from your knee.

Another chortle from you, this time the kind that said everything about how you lived in comparison to them,

“You wouldn’t be. This is a five bedroom house. It’s fine. Besides, don’t you guys wanna actually catch up? I’ll let you torture me with tennis talk.”

Art started to stammer,

“I-I mean… we didn’t bring anything.”

“Just our idiot selves,” Patrick added.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get Charles to get you guys all set up.”

“Charles?”

“Oh, he’s my assistant,” you said nonchalantly, as if it were nothing. “You’re not fighting me on this. I want to spend some quality time with my boys. Don’t make me have to beg for it.”

“We could never make you beg for anything,” Art replied, just a little too quickly. 

“I know, Art, that’s why I love you,” you grinned over at him. “So, are we all in agreement? Stay with me. Just this weekend.”

“Yes,” they both replied a little too quickly this time. 

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. 

“You know… I really, really missed you guys. And those good times we had.”

You let the memory of that night of almosts in London resurge, let their minds run amuck with whatever teenage fantasy was still left over from that night. A moment so brief it could almost be forgotten, could even be flagged as incidental, accidental, but the three of you knew, even as grown adults (especially as grown adults), that it would always stick and remain unresolved, unless someone ran to the rescue with some sort of solution. Once again they held their breaths. You stood up, glanced between the two of them like you were sizing them up, and then smiled as if nothing had happened at all — you let them breath. 

“Your bedroom’s the second on the right when you leave here. Charles will help you get set up— I’ll see you guys in the morning for breakfast.”

And just like that, you were gone. The air in the room seemed to clear. Your presence was like a thousand tons of pressure weighing on their bodies and their minds. Finally, they could breathe.

They glanced at each other with the same longing, almost nervous expression — high school all over again.

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eek let me know what y'all thought. i wanna finish it by this week <3

[royall-ass]

hihi 🤑🤑🤑🤑 uhhrm ruth for ghe character ask thingy maybe

YEAHHH ofc :333

Favorite Thing: OH MY GOD just the way that Lauren portrays her is so good to me 😭😭 shes a horny ass teenager and i feel like the fandom understood her personality sooooo well, and I love when theres content of here in fics and stuff ^^ i love how she’s written in teenage werewolf of hatchetfield

Least Favorite Thing: That being said,,,, her freakiness low key scared me sometimes 😭 when i first watched the show and she yelled “DID YOU CUM” i was shocked but at the same time its a starkid show so i dunno what I expected 💀💀

brOTP: Ruth and Steph!!!!!! God i love the idea of Steph being weirded out at first bur then she started leaking all of petes secrets and the two became bffs from there <3

OTP: HALOGEAR HALOGEAR HALOGEAR HALOG

nOTP: Ummmm idk I dont really like ruth and richie ☹️☹️ i just see them as siblings and i cant picture them as anything more !!!

Random Headcanon: I’ve posted this before and it’s Halogear kinda but, whenever Ruth says something horny, Grace slips the number and address of her church into her locker or on a detention note

Song I Associate With Them: Nasty Dog by Sir Mix-A-Lot!!!! shes a freak!!!

My Favorite Photo: SHE LOOKS SO CUTE HERE I LOVE HER I LOVE LAUREN

heh,,,, send morw 😈😈

[munson-blurbs]

Hey Bug! I have a request for a fic just in case you run out of ideas

Eddie gets bullied by Jason and those annoying basketball jerks all th time but doesn't tell anyone. When he sees them at the Hideout before he's about to perform he has a panic attack or something. Y/N is there because she still hasn't gotten over him. :D

Then backstage Y/N comfort's him

exes back to lovers

hurt/comfort

This might be way too specific but...........

;)

K bye

Combining with these two requests!

hello i love your blog so much and you're really one of the best writers here! <3 i'm honestly a slut for the enemies to lovers trope sksksks so i was hoping you could write one for eddie? then maybe sprinkled with a lil bit of jealousy haha thank you so much and ily <333

May i plz request an exes back to lovers with eddie x y/n? Maybe he cheated or something?

Warnings: smut (18+ only minors DNI!!!), fingering, p in v, panic attacks, mentions of cheating, mentions of oral, Jason Carver is present

WC: 3.9k

Thank you @firefly-graphics for the amazing dividers and @usedtobecooler, @trashmouth-richie, and @this-was-bad-sorry for dialogue help!

--

Reader:

"Babe, where are you taking me?" you ask your boyfriend, snuggling up against him as he just grins and continues driving.

"You'll see," Jason answers teasingly. "I told you that we'll be doing a full 'Welcome Home' tour of Hawkins when you got back from college, and that's what we're gonna do."

Since you'd been home for the summer, he'd brought you to Benny's, Enzo's, Skull Rock, and Lover's Lake. Hawkins is a small town; there wasn't much else to do around here.

You and Jason had been together for six months after you ran into him when you came home for Thanksgiving. You'd bumped into each other at the grocery store, frantically scrambling to buy last-minute ingredients. It was hard to see him; he wasn't nice to you or your friends back in high school. But then he'd apologized, offered to take you out for coffee to show you how much he'd changed, and the rest was history.

Your stomach drops when he pulls into the Hideout parking lot. It brings back memories of watching your ex-boyfriend and his band play there. You and Eddie would fool around backstage until it was time for them to perform, and you would stand in the audience of five drunks and cheer like you were at a Metallica concert. It was a tradition, every Tuesday night.

Wait...

"What day is it?" you mutter to yourself, but Jason thinks you're asking him.

"It's Tuesday," he answers, blissfully unaware of what that means. "Why, you got plans?" he jokes.

You can just manage to shake your head, palms suddenly slick with sweat. Maybe Corroded Coffin didn't play on Tuesday nights anymore. Maybe you wouldn't have to see the man who shattered your heart into a million pieces.

Eddie:

"We're on in twenty minutes," Jeff tells him, slinging the strap of his guitar over his shoulders. "You all tuned up?"

Eddie nods. "Yup, good to go." He glances at his kohl-rimmed eyes in the mirror. Since you two had broken up, he's had to learn how to apply his own eyeliner before shows, but it never looks as good as when you used to do it.

"Uh, guys?" Gareth pokes his head in the room nervously. "I think you might wanna see this."

They make their way to the side of the stage, peering out as inconspicuously as they can. Gareth points out to where Jason is standing at the bar with his tanned arm around some girl.

No...not just some girl, Eddie realizes. It's you.

"What the fuck?" he snarls, heart catching in his throat. "What's she doing with him?" He winces as Jason hands you a watered-down beer and kisses you, making you giggle.

Jeff claps a hand on his friend's back. "I'm sorry, dude," he says gently. "You gonna be okay?"

But Eddie doesn't hear him; doesn't hear anything besides a pounding in his ears. He feels like he's standing outside of his own body. His bandmates keep calling his name to no response.

She's with Jason now. She's done with me and moved onto the prick who made my life miserable for all of high school. I lost her and I'll never get her back. It's over it's over it's over...

"Eddie?" Gareth shakes him, too aware of the way his friend's chest is expanding and contracting at a rapid rate. This isn't the first time Eddie's had a panic attack, but it's the first time you haven't been there to calm him down. "What do we do?" he asks Jeff.

"I-I don't know!" Jeff cries out. "What did Y/N used to do?" He glances over in your direction. "Should I...would she even want to help after...?"

Gareth shrugs. "It's worth a shot!" he surmises, nudging Eddie again. "He's gonna hyperventilate." Tears involuntarily spill down Eddie's cheeks as he murmurs the same phrase again and again:

It's over it's over it's over...

Reader:

You're waiting for Jason to come back with a plate of fries, possibly the greasiest offering in all of Hawkins, when you feel a frantic tapping on your back. Your smile fades when you see Gareth in front of you, panting like he's just run a marathon.

"What do you want?" you hiss, remembering his role in everything that went down last year.

"Look," he starts, "I know you hate me, and you hate Eddie more, but he's having a panic attack backstage and we can't calm him down. I'm worried that he's gonna pass out. Please," he begs, not even bothering to finish his request. You know exactly what he's asking.

There's a knot in your stomach, twisting with your options. You could ditch Jason and help out the guy who cheated on you at your own graduation party, or you can let Eddie suffer and enjoy a night out with your boyfriend. You don't want to see Eddie; the words fuck off are on the tip of your tongue, but you can't help the gnawing feeling pulsing through your conscience.

"Fine," you mutter, and Gareth grabs your wrist and pulls you backstage. Jeff's gotten Eddie to sit on the torn leather sofa, but the man is still breathing too heavily for your liking. His eyes are glazed over, like he's not actually present. It's a sight you've seen before.

"Eddie, it's me," you say softly, trying to keep the resentment out of your voice. "We're backstage at the Hideout, sitting on the couch. Jeff and Gareth are here, too. Ground yourself here." Against your better judgment, you slip your hand under his trembling one. "Squeeze my hand when you're ready." About thirty seconds pass before you feel his fingers grip yours.

"Okay, we're gonna do your exercise together," you tell him. "Five things you see; I'll start." You pick the first thing your eyes land on. "A chair."

Eddie pauses before he gives his answer, voice barely audible. "Th-the coaster," he says finally, referring to the sticky Bud Light coaster on the table.

"Good," you offer a small smile. "I see...Sweetheart," you announce, referring to his guitar.

"Gareth and Jeff." Eddie replies just a bit faster this time, allowing himself back into reality.

"That was two, you overachiever!" you tease. You walk him through the remainder of the exercise: four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. By the time you're done, his breathing has slowed considerably and he's stopped crying.

You turn to his friends, both visibly relieved that the situation has been diffused. "I don't think he should perform tonight, guys," you tell them. "He needs to go home and rest. The adrenaline of being on stage could trigger another one." They nod knowingly, and you stand up to leave.

"Where're y'going?" Eddie mumbles, reaching out for your hand. "Can you stay for a little bit?"

"I, um, have to get back to my date," you tell him, purposely omitting Jason's name. "You'll be okay. Just take care of yourself tonight." You rub his back quickly, almost out of habit. "Gotta go," you add quickly before dashing back out to the bar.

Part of you feels guilty for running out of there, but why should you? You weren't the one who hooked up with Ashley Calloway at the party; that was Eddie. You were too busy trying to make sure everyone was enjoying themselves; Eddie sure was when you found the two of them in the guest bathroom, pants around his ankles and Ashley on her knees in front of him. They were both beyond drunk; you didn't know who initiated, but you really didn't care.

No, you didn't owe Eddie anything. Helping him through his panic attack was nicer than anything he deserved.

"Where'd ya go?" Jason asks, concerned. He pulls you in for a kiss, and it seems more possessive than usual.

"Ladies' room," you lie easily. "Hope you didn't eat all the fries without me!"

He laughs. "Don't worry, I saved a few for my girl." He tugs you closer, eyes scoping out the rest of the bar. "Forgot how grimy this place is," he mutters. "Wanna get out of here after we finish these?" he asks, gesturing towards the plate on the counter.

You nod. "That would be great."

Eddie:

Eddie's sitting in the back of his van; Jeff is driving and Gareth is plunked down in the passenger seat.

"Sorry, guys," he apologizes for what seems like the millionth time. "I don't know what happened back there."

Gareth exhales slowly. "We're just glad you're okay," he says truthfully, "but, dude, you can't be getting this upset whenever you see Y/N with someone else."

"Yeah, I know," Eddie agrees. "But Jason Carver? What does she even see in him?" He groans and leans back in his seat.

Jeff thinks for a moment. "Have you two actually...talked since the party?" he asks. "I know there was a lot of yelling and screaming, but did you ever have a real conversation?"

"Nope." Eddie replies. "She wanted nothing to do with me, and I don't blame her. I fucked up royally." No one can argue with that.

"Maybe you should try that," Jeff suggests. "Like, listen to her, and don't give some shitty excuse for what you did."

Eddie considers this. "What if she doesn't forgive me? What if she still hates me after?" he ponders meekly. "Then what?"

"Then at least you tried," Gareth reasons. "Is it more important that she forgives you, or that she just knows how important she was to you?"

Reader:

The drive home from the Hideout should be passed by peppering kisses to Jason's clean-shaven face while he drives and lacing your fingers into his when he rests his hand on the gearshift. Instead, you're in your own world; a world where you can't stop thinking about Eddie Munson.

It was so stupid, especially after how badly he'd hurt you. You'd heard the unmistakeable sounds of his panting moans coming from the bathroom, and when Jeff and Gareth tried to stop you from investigating, you knew something was amiss. You'd shouted at him until your throat was raw, and then you shouted some more at his friends for protecting the cheating bastard. It was the last time you'd spoken to any of them until tonight.

You look over at your boyfriend, so sweet and wonderful, and you ache to love him fully, to commit to him with your whole being. But you just can't. Because your heart still belongs to the metalhead who broke it.

"Jason," you blurt out before you can stop yourself, "I have to tell you something." And you tell him the truth of where you disappeared to that night, watching his expression fall with each word.

When you finish, he laughs incredulously. "You skipped out on our date to go comfort The Freak?" he spits, and you see the old Jason, the one he insisted no longer existed, ooze through his nice-guy persona. "Seriously? After everything he did to you."

"It's not like anything happened!" you protest. "Besides, you were a total douchebag in high school, and I forgave you."

Jason pauses. "And what if something had happened?" he questions, voice thick with venom and insecurity. "What if he had tried to kiss you or something? Would you have let him?"

You stumble on your response, and that's enough of an answer for him. "Nice. Real nice," he sneers. "Do you even love me?"

"I wish I did," you whisper, tears in your eyes. "Jason, I'm so sorry."

He sighs, slamming a hand on the steering wheel. "Forget it. I knew I shouldn't have gotten involved. All of you weirdos in that satanic cult Munson ran were bad news." He slams on the breaks as he pulls into your driveway. "Look at that. There's Freak Charming now." Sure enough, Eddie is sitting on your stoop, smoking a cigarette in the crisp summer evening air.

"I swear, I didn't--" but Jason just waves you off.

"We're done. Do whatever--or whoever--you want, Y/N," he says tersely, and you hop out of his car wordlessly, watching as he speeds away.

You turn your attention to Eddie, who is making his way towards you.

"What are you doing here?"

Eddie:

Well, isn't that a loaded question.

Eddie runs his fingers through his curly hair. "I, um, came here to listen to you," he stammers, avoiding your gaze.

"Listen to me? What do you want me to say?" The thought is almost absurd; him showing up to your house, expecting you to carry a conversation.

"Anything," he takes a drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "We never got to talk after the party. I didn't really apologize, and I didn't get to hear you out."

You laugh harshly. "I think I got my point across when I called you a cheating piece of shit and our relationship a waste of my time. Why, did I miss something?"

"No, I think that about covers it," Eddie says with a frown.

"Why did you do it?" you blurt out. "Was I not enough? Or too much? What did I do wrong?" Your voice wavers, a sob catching in your throat.

"Oh my God, no," Eddie replies, slack-jawed. "No, it was nothing like that. It was my fault, not yours." He sighs, looking upwards to will his own tears away. "I was drunk and stupid and scared."

"Scared?"

"Yeah," he says, "scared that you'd realize that I wasn't enough; that you'd want someone who's getting a college degree like you are, who isn't back in Hawkins working at a power plant and playing in a band with a bunch of high schoolers."

You kick the ground lightly, dust pluming around your sneakered foot. "I was gonna ask you to get an apartment in Evanston with me," you admit. "I would be at Northwestern and you could easily find work there. Plus, it's only about half an hour from Chicago." Your heart pangs at the thought of what might have been.

"Y-you were?" Eddie's eyes widen in shock. "Fuck, man!" He stubs out his cigarette angrily. "Can't believe I went and fucked it all up like that." Before he realizes what he's doing, he slams a fist into a nearby tree, wincing as the pain shoots up his arm.

"Of course I was!" you shout. "I thought you were the love of my life, Eddie. I thought we'd move in together, get married someday, have our own family." You let the tears fall, unable to hold yourself together. "And then you decided that getting blown by some random cheerleader was more important than all of that."

He's silent for awhile, and it's not until you hear him sniffling that he realizes he's crying.

"You can leave now," you tell him quietly. "There's nothing left to say."

He nods. "I'm so, so sorry," he sobs. "I hurt you. You didn't deserve that; you didn't deserve to suffer because I was insecure. I'd...I'd do anything to get you back."

"I don't think that's a good idea," you answer him, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I know you're with Carver now--"

"We broke up," you see his eyebrows shoot up, and you elaborate, "just now. He didn't like that I was helping you tonight."

"Oh," Eddie says simply, trying to bite back a smile at the news that you're single. "Can I ask you something?"

"Depends what it is."

"Why did you help me? You could've just told the guys to deal with it themselves, you know." He tries to resist the urge to light up another cigarette and fails, feeling the nicotine calm his nerves.

You roll your eyes and scoff. "Because as much as I hate you--and I do hate you, very much--I wasn't about to let you faint over some stage fright."

Eddie chews on his lower lip. "Wasn't stage fright."

"What?"

"It wasn't stage fright," he repeats. "I had a panic attack because I saw you with Carver--not that it was your fault," he hastily adds, "it just fuckin' killed me to know that you were over me. That we were over. Because I-I never stopped loving you."

Reader:

You let the confession sink in: Eddie never stopped loving you. Or so he says, but the image of him with Ashley never fades.

"Did you still love me at the party?" you sneer. "Did you still love me with her mouth around your dick?"

"Of course I did!" he retorts, "I just...look, there's no excuse for what I did. I got it in my head that you'd leave me and I...I acted vindictively. But you've got to believe me--I've regretted it every day since."

You sit on the steps, feeling like you're about to fall over from the adrenaline coursing through your veins. "And you know what the worst part is?" you hiss. "Earlier, when you said you wanted me back, I actually considered it. I hate myself for it, but I considered it."

"Do you...still love me?" he asks quietly.

"I do," you confess. "I don't want to, but I do. I love you and despise you at the same time, if that makes any sense."

"What...what can I do to earn your trust back, Y/N?" he murmurs. "I'll do it; whatever you ask, I'll do it. I don't want to mess this up again. I don't want to risk losing your love for good." He looks up at you, tears shining in his big brown eyes. "Please, baby."

"Eddie, I don't know--" you start, but he interrupts you.

"Can I just do one thing?" No sooner do you nod your head do his lips come crashing against yours, his hands on either side of your face. You arch into him, pressing up on your toes.

"Was that okay?" he whispers against you, brushing away your tears with his thumb. "God, baby, it eats me up inside to know that I'm the reason you're crying. I never wanted to be that."

"I know," you tell him, falling into his warm embrace. "Want you to make me feel happy again. Like you used to."

He looks taken aback at your proposition. "Y'sure? We can just do this," he reassures you as he pulls you in for another deep kiss.

"'M sure." You gasp as he lifts you, placing one hand under each of your thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist as he kisses down your arms, sending a tingling sensation through your body. "Show me how much you love me."

Eddie swings open your front door, pushing you up against the living room wall so he can put his hands all over you. "Are your parents--"

"They're out," you tell him. "We have the place to ourselves."

"Fuck," he growls. "Bedroom?"

"Mhm."

Eddie stumbles into your room, holding onto you as though he's afraid that you'll disappear if he lets you go. He gently lays you on the bed, climbing on top of you, parting your lips with his tongue.

"You're so beautiful," he muses. "You are the most perfect woman I've ever seen. These perfect eyes...perfect nose...perfect mouth...perfect ears..." He punctuates each statement with a kiss, naming every body part he can think of.

"My turn," you say, sitting up slightly. He furrows his brows, puzzled, until you start peeling off his shirt and kissing down his torso. He shivers as you reach for his belt buckle, clasping his hand over yours.

"We don't have to rush this," he stammers. "I don't want you to regret anything."

"Do you not want to?" you ask. It's not an accusation, just concern.

"I do. I definitely do," Eddie clarifies. "I just want to do this right, y'know? Don't want this to be a one-time thing."

"Eddie?"

"Mm?"

"Stop talking."

He lets out a small chuckle. "Will do, my love." Pressing another gentle kiss to your forehead, he lifts your shirt above your head and rubs his thumbs over the lace of your bra. Your nipples pebble under his touch.

"Eddie." His name drips with need from your lips. "Keep touching me." He unclasps your bra, inhaling sharply as it falls to the bed, revealing your pert breasts.

"S'perfect," he coos, taking one into his mouth. He presses his groin against your thigh, rutting against you softly. A moan slips from you as feel him growing harder.

"Wan' touch you," you whimper, nudging again at his belt. "Please."

"Okay, baby," he indulges, groaning as you take him out of his boxers, using his precum to help your hand glide along his length. "I missed your touch." He trains his focus on your own jean shorts, fighting his feral urge to rip them off of you, instead opting to leave kisses across your hips and thighs as he pulls them down gently. Pressing his forefinger against your throbbing clit, he smiles when he feels you soaking through your panties.

"Did you miss that, too?" you tease, but he's completely serious in his reply:

"I missed everything about you."

Your gaze meets his, and you immediately take note of his misty eyes. You melt at his words, at how genuine he is; the raw vulnerability making him even more beautiful. He leans in for another kiss, and his tears fall against your cheeks.

"I love you I love you I love you," he whispers into your ear, tugging down your panties and sliding one thick finger inside you, pumping it against your pulpy walls. "I'll never lose you again, never never never..."

"I know," you tell him, and you mean it. You cry out with pleasure as he inserts another digit, bucking your hips into him. "I love you, too."

"Are you...can I...?" he glances down at his erect length, slick with his own precum.

"Please," you beg. He slowly enters you, filling you up perfectly. His movements still for a moment as the two of you feel the power of your connection. He gives small thrusts, holding you by the small of your back as he pulls himself out and pushes back in rhythmically. You can't remember the last time anyone's held you this close.

He grows harder inside you, hitting that sweet spot over and over. His choked panting tells you that he's close, but so are you.

"Can we finish together?" you manage, and he nods. "I'm still on the pill...you can cum inside me, baby."

"Now?"

"Mhm," you cry out as he pumps faster. "Eddie--fuck--right there, I'm cumming..." You clench around him as your orgasm overtakes you, and you feel his thick, hot ropes fill you. He stays there for a beat, kissing you with his swollen lips before taking himself out and flopping next to you on your bed.

"Y/N?" he asks meekly. "Look at me, love."

You shift to your side so your eyes are trained on his.

"You're my everything. Always have been, always will be." He caresses your cheek, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Will you take me back? I'll never..."

"I know," you kiss his nose as he grabs your waist and pulls you against his chest. "I love you, Eddie."

"I love you more," he play argues with a grin.

"Impossible."

"Nope," he tickles you gently until you swat at him. "And I'll spend the rest of my life proving it."

--

[queer-whatchamacallit]

Just rewatched 1x04 “Dogs” and here’s what I got for ya :D

Carmy’s “It’s on me now,” when talking about the debt Mikey and Richie put The Beef in, he doesn’t want to get into it being “his brother’s house,” it seems like everything there leads back to Michael, and that’s how he likes it, but he never wants to talk about it

“Name one cohort, name an associate” is one of my favorite lines lmao

Carm seems especially hot tempered in this bit, maybe because he doesn’t want to be catering a kids party, maybe he’s just not doing great after Mike’s birthday

“I answer to Jeff, the system” I love how T has incorporated Carmy into her idea of how The Beef functions, at some point he became part of the system :]

Carmy going to Cicero’s old address both shows how much everything has changed while he was gone and that he very much didn’t have the energy to keep track of any of it

One of the big displays of how the Berzattos want to be listened to but never listen to each other is the Cicero vs Richie argument, they’ve been at each other’s throats over a simple misunderstanding for 5 whole years

I need the “how she fell down those stairs” story please please please

I’m sure we’ve seen the post about the Mr Szorski (?) and how if someone heard “one of the Berzatto boys committed suicide” their head would easily go to Carmy instead of Mikey and… yeah ow

People should call Richie “Dick” more, it’s literally his name

“Richie what the fuck is that?” Carmy asks and you can almost hear his stomach drop in his voice when he sees the Xanax, also, this in combination with the “is there a name for that thing where you’re scared of a good thing happening because you think something band’s gonna happen?” “Life?” Starts to feel like Richie does genuinely have anxiety shit, and Carm’s “Who doesn’t?” Creates an interesting dynamic between them, they’re both really fucked up and reassuring the other that it’s completely normal

Gotta love Carm’s brag of “homemade Ecto-cooler motherfucker!”

And Chester’s “it’s this radiant orchid that’s fly as fuck”

There’s also the post about Marcus blowing off his work for the donuts because he thinks that level of dedication is what Carmy wants and the 1x07 breakdown mostly being the result of miscommunication, and yeah, Marcus’ “I want it to be perfect, like that plum” contributes to that

“You have given Marcus a lot of confidence, well done” from Ebra to Syd is so sweet omg

When Carmy has to go inside the party, he asks for ketchup from anyone and everyone, trying to get out of there ASAP

I think one of Carmy’s biggest love languages is words of affirmation, ie: Pete saying he worked at the best restaurant in the world (and that’s not an exaggeration), plus Pete telling him later about following his career and stuff, and suddenly Carmy likes Pete now

Jimmy goes “that fuckin kid” and Richie just says “that kid” in a way that feels detached, pretty much any time Richie talks about Mike, it feels like he’s just stating facts and trying to keep his emotions out of it as much as possible

Pete (loml) being so insufferably awkward <333

But also him being so sincere and “she also really missed you a lot too,” Carm’s been completely bombarded by his family yelling at him and I can only imagine how nice it was to hear that

Unless the cross got stuck by his coat or something, Carm’s necklace is just a gold chain

Cicero isn’t Italian, but he’s still related to Carm’s dad

“When was the last time you saw him?” And “he never lands” both point to him being alive (at least that they know of, this is a reckless guy that was last seen 20 years ago)

“Drugs, alcohol, gambling, mostly because he insisted on doing stupid fuckin shit all the time” Carmy’s eyes looks up from what he was doing to look at the picture again and I have this thought that this is him going ‘hey, that sounds familiar’ and Jimmy starts talking about Carm’s dad hopping careers and Carm knows for sure that Michael was a lot like his dad

“I’m in there for 5 minutes, I start thinking about bad shit” “I think that’s why I like it so much,” he’s not someone who avoids reliving his traumas, he’s always trying to take what hurt him and regain power over it, and now, we know he’s aware of this pattern of his

I think the kid in Cicero’s dream was Carmy. I think he really tried to look out for the Berzatto siblings, but the other two were already affected by their dad’s presence, unlike Carmy who just saw his absence, but Cicero always tried to put on a brave face and offer a helping hand to Carm. They seem close

“Taste it and tell me it’s shitty,” I don’t think Tina’s ever had that level of effort and care required of her in The Beef, and now, she’s terrified that when she really, truly cares, it won’t be good enough

But it is, and her “Thanks Jeff… Chef” means the world to me

Carmy isn’t good at articulating his thoughts, but sometimes, he’ll figure out his own methods of non-verbal communication, like his point to Marcus, and I think Marcus does get his intended “I care, good job Chef, I love to see you improving” from it

So I think that is all!

[that-was-anticlimactic]

okay so awhile ago @zukkaoru and i made a nerdy prudes must die au for bsd and we kind of went off with it and the soundtrack is stuck in my head so look at who would be who (explanations under the cut):

kunikida - grace chasity

yosano - steph lauter

dazai - pete spankoffski

ranpo - richie lipschitz

poe - ruth fleming

chuuya - max jägerman

fukuchi - wiggly

bram - nibbly

sigma - blinky

fyodor - tinky

nikolai - pokey

gin - kyle

tachihara - jason

jouno - detective shapiro

tecchou - officer bailey

mori - mayor lauter

elise - miss tessburger

cheerleaders - higuchi (brenda), naomi (stacy), kajii (brooke)

kyouka - reese

jun’ichiro - joey's bbq monologue guy

atsushi - bbq jon/trevor

kenji - bbq angela

akutagawa - bbq mariah/caitlyn

mushitaro - corey dorris' cop (f-ing transcendent cop)

mark - dan reynolds

john - donna

hirotsu - miss mulberry

nathaniel - boy jerry

guy koyou tried running away with - mark chasity

koyou - karen chasity

margaret - bryce’s reporter

louisa - paul

lucy - emma

kunikida as grace bc he has all his ideals and he's just so... idk how to describe it in a way that doesn't sound mean bc i mean it so affectionately but he has the vibes of slowly losing his beans. also... just PICTURE him singing "dirty girl" YOOOOO and like if you ship kunichuu, then it's also kunikida freaking out bc he's thinking romantically about someone from the mafia. also he deserves to go wild <3

yosano as steph bc Vibes <333 dazai as pete (and this is not shipping yosano and dazai... they're just friends in this) bc he's smart and would 100% get all caught up in something like this also bc we're making chuuya max so like they're rivalry tehe. now i know you could argue that atsushi should be pete and akutagawa should be steph... but this stemmed from kunichuuzai, sooooo. dazai could also be steph, but we thought that yosano fit steph better than pete

ranpo as richie bc there was literally no good place for ranpo. he's too smart. but richie is also smart and it'd just be silly. maybe now ranpo can live (for a lil bit oops) the childhood he never had...

poe as ruth bc he would KILL "just for once" look me in the face and tell me i'm wrong

chuuya as max bc gravity powers and dead!max's powers are similar, chuuya has the anger issues to be max, plus he and kunikida would get to sing "dirty girl" together. i also feel like "literal monster" could be a song in reference to chuuya and i feel like (in a kind of self-deprecating way), chuuya would sing that about himself

we made the decay of angels the lords in black bc it FIT!!! fukuchi as wiggly bc leader, bram as nibby bc... vampire... mouth..., sigma as blinky bc they've got eyes on the casino and know everything about all the staff and customers and such, fyodor as tinky bc tinky is prolly the most sadistic one, and nikolai as pokey bc nikolai is most likely to cause a musical apocalypse

gin as kyle and tachihara as jason is just so silly~ and hirotsu as miss mulberry bc he's trying his best to wrangle a bunch of depressed teenagers all the time. higuchi, naomi, and kajii are the cheerleaders (we invented a third one specifically for kajii) bc we think they'd be good cheerleaders lol

jouno as shapiro bc VIBES and wants to uphold the law and tecchou as bailey would just be SO FUNNY and they would just annoy each other soooooo much! we made mushitaro corey dorris' cop bc it would be funny

mori as the mayor is great bc yosano is steph... and that's just depressing ya know? and then elise as tessburger for obvious reasons

we just thought mark and john would be a funny dan and donna tbh. margaret as bryce's reporter specifically so she can blame nathaniel hawthorne. nathaniel as boy jerry bc ViRgiNiTy RoCkS

jun'ichiro as joey's bbq guy bc let's be real... jun'ichiro is an AMAZING actor. kenji HAD to be in th ebbq monologues bc cows. then akutagawa is a theatre kid i know this he told me personally (or he would be if he wasn't in the mafia and had a family and went to school). atsushi is kind of there just so we can hear him say, "my barbecue" the way jon does lol

[lady-loveluck]

jdjdbsks I have some Richie x Grace ideas/drabble thingies :333

- t4t grace and richie, richie braids grace's hair while she talks about christianity or one of her other interests

- at the waylon place or someplace cold, grace gets cold and richie gives her one his many layers of clothes (why does he have so many)

- around christmas, grace realizes she likes richie so starts buying some mistletoe, hanging it up around the school as a way to "test" richie, to see if he'll stay pure around her, and then trying with increasingly less subtlety as time goes on to get richie underneath it so she can steal a kiss, while Richie remains blissfully oblivious, and somehow manages to miss all of Grace’s hints she gave up on testing him she just wants that gosh darned kiss!!

- grace constantly gets richie into detention for any minor thing, it doesn't even have to be an actual rule he broke, she'll just make something up! why does she do it? she likes seeing richie's disappointed reaction, how surprised he is each time, trying to argue with her. she sees it as silly little banter, richie on the other is going crazy, ending up in detention every other day!! Ugh. he puts up with it, grace's smug little grin as she gives him his detention slips make it all worth it

- grace is trying to spread the word of the Bible, richie is trying so hard to get someone into anime so someone can get all the references he makes!! the two make a deal, grace'll watch one anime show/movie and richie'll read the bible. richie recommends for her to watch neon genesis evangelion. sometimes they watch an episode or two of eva together, sometimes they have bible study together

just some silly fluff :> sorry for any spelling mistakes

-🙏💙 (has the combo 🙏💙 been claimed yet?)

IM SOBBING THE MISTLETOE ONE IS SO CUTEEEE

You might have ingrained something into my brain-

[carmenized-onions]

chapter 333333 - we back!!

(platonically) (for now) (what?) (I didn't say anything). - HHHHNNGHH!!!! ONION!!!

is this entire series just a love letter to me wanting to take care of this guy? maybe so. maybe so. - so based of you

is this entire series just a love letter to me wanting to take care of this guy? maybe so. maybe so. - all of the cherries

you’re thankful that you’re alone - cmon now chippy did you really think carmy was able to stay away

it’s not gonna somehow get more correct than correct… - but but what if can be…

“Fuck are you doing here?” You and Carmen manage to speak in perfect unison. - they’re soulmates

“If you need a palate tester, lemme know.” - mood. i love that she’s bold enough to say it cause i’d be thinking it but wouldn’t want to overstep

lone chef - lone chef, lone wolf (well bear)

He might not consider himself a brightening presence, but to you, he certainly is a nice lamp. - fucking fuck fuck fuck

not wanting to stroke his ego, but he’s already clocked it. - i love that for them. their dynamic is everything

On their one black plate - her plate!!

But then he leans forward, head meeting your level, amusement lilting his voice - i would die

He grabs the fork from you to try for himself - the way they’ve always shared:’)))

you press the back of your hand to his chest / grazing your hand on the small of his back - it’s so small but oh the touches!!

poor man’s sommelier… - poor syd’s sommelier

“I take the L.” - yeah you do *badum tss*

“What’s wrong with home, Carm?” - she’s too good

He sniffs, he’s waiting for the shoe to drop, for you to tell him he has to go home / “You can hole up at mine.” - I LOVE THEM

“Good. Where’s the black plate go?” - in your apartment and also MY HEART

It’s heavily thrifted and upcycled from furniture you found on the side of the road - love that, especially cause you just KNOW chippy knows how to properly clean the furniture

This is a perfect apartment because you live in it. - :’))))))

Nothing can hit, in here. - 😭😭😭💕🫶🏼

“I uh, I left your Carhartt at work.” - RIIIGHT CAUSE SHE PUT IT ON HIM IN THE WALK-IN AAAAH

“you can put your shit there.” - she’s so slick

“Fuck is this?” / “Fuck is what?” - i am in love with them

“Don’t say my name like that…” / He has discovered does not like it when you say his name with any sort of animosity or disappointment. - because he liiiiikes her:3 he’s so precious

“Carmen no… Two in One?” “…Five in One.” “Five in One?!” - they’re so funny!!! these moments are so<333

pair of sweatpants your brother left here ages ago. - it makes me happy that it’s her brother’s and not an ex like most fics do :’)

Goddamn it he is very pretty, sonofabitch. - he is, it hurts

There’s a boy in your house and you’ve just discovered he’s pretty. - !!!

And without verbally checking in, you once again flow into a silent rhythm - they’re so natural together like yeah they’re meant to be

You make a face, and while he doesn’t fuckin’ guffaw, he does smile - like how richie does:’) she probably made faces with eva oh OH

You both speak at once. “Weird to see you out of uniform.” - SEEE!!! they are perfect. let’s go back to when everything was good and hair was being washed

And he can see you. - how mikey saw her, OH THIS IS A CRIMEE

“You’re good at it.” - 😭😭😭

does he laugh at the sound? Yes. Yes, he does. - that’s what good p-

“What’re you doing?” “I’m taking the couch.” - i also did not forget about this entire interaction, a monumental moment

I will be haunted all night by my Nonna if you sleep on the couch—” / “My own grandmother takes the couch when I visit. She would throw me off my own balcony if I made a guest take the couch.” / “My Nonno would stab me if I let a pretty girl sleep on a couch.” - this in particular i never moved on from. it’s so funny and accurate (especially for carm)

“Then let me use it!” “No!” - the no is so sidieirj

also once again thanks for making his text bold so we know who’s who. love you what who said that, that was just a gust of wind

ALSO!!! PRETTY GIRL!!!!

“So whichever one you find the least sacrilege.” - ugh your way with words

“C’mon, Tony.” / “Heard, pretty boy!" - so if i want to tattoo their dynamic on my eyes how would one do that exactly

all of this is - I JUST MISS THESE MOMENTS WOWIE WOW WOW

Binging through my Popcorn asks, what a TREAT and a half. Shout out to google docs for continually crashing as I try to write ask responses MORE EFFICIENTLY THROUGH THEM AND THEN THEY STOP WORKING FCUK YOU GUYS ANYWAYS LETS GET INTO IT!!

So many cherry flavours that I didn’t plan for. I might just really like cherries. I’ve been eating a bowl of them like every day lately cause they’re in season here right now.

BAD IMPOSTER SYNDROME BAD!! IT’S NOT GONNA GET MORE PERFECT THAN PERFECT!! DRILL BOY!! DRILL WITH YOUR HEART!!

Key signs of a soulmate: you keep talking at the same time. You think he’s a lamp. He can’t stop smiling when he can tell you’re impressed by him. He gives you the black plate. He shares forks with you (they keep running out of forks ok). Also you keep touching him and he’s not saying it’s making him freak out but it’s making him freak out. Positively.

BROKE ASS SYD’S SOMMELIER (so aggressive for no reason RELAX me)

When is he NOT taking the L. How many Chicagoans get tortured by this joke every day? I wonder. I really do. I love the way Chip manages this scene in general, but it’s so fucking. Looking back, it really tracks because like— this is the way that she mourns!! She’s not gonna tell CARMEN to do it any different from her. She sucks at taking her own advice but she won’t force someone to do shit SHE wasn’t strong enough to do. I love her.

I KNOW her handyman dad has a fucking steam cleaner and powerwasher she borrows all the time to clean her shit. As a crafty guy there’s always that little random weird tool that always comes in handy— I imagine handyman dad OG Chicago’s Kindest owns SO MANY big and small specific tools

Carmen, the jacket thief. How dare he. He likes her, he’s forgiven. Still a sinner for Five In One.

SO MANY FICS DO EXES PANTS AND IT’S LIKE— Man me personally, I gave him his fucking clothes back. But I’ve got 4 of my brothers sweaters in my closet rn. Mostly cause they’re hand me downs and he didn’t fit in them anymore but still. There’s also the pain of Chip did borrow her brothers sweats (and brought unused toiletries home) in Two Steps Back,… are they the same ones? FOR YOU TO DECIDE MY BOY!!

THERE’S A BOY IN YOUR HOUSE AND HE’S PRETTY!!! I love their silent rhythm. It’s like my favourite thing in life with people and in characters when two people just flow like one unit without effort. I adore them for this. That and the in sync speaking. Oh how I miss these days.

HE CAN SEE YOUU AUUHHGHGH (roblox death noises). You’re good at it!! Same shit she said to him earlier!! Hell scape!! Burning !! flames!! Flames on the side of my face!!

—sy sounds like—

MONUMENTAL ONE BED SCENE— Need SquidInk to recreate this rn with their Holiday Inn room. Who am I ordering, I’m the writer? 100% Carmen would say I would get fucking stabbed if I let a pretty girl sleep on the couch. That’s him. That’s him at his most romantic man. NO!!

I MISS THESE MOMENTS TOO MAN I’m looking into eye tattoos of dynamics and memories as we speak I’ll let you know when I find out. I HAVE TO GO PUT MY LAUNDRY IN THE DRYER BUT I WILL FIRST SEND THIS OUT AND GO OVER THE WONDERFUL MEMES YOU SENT IN THE NEXT ONE!!

[richie-shitlips]

Hello!

please like if read, thanks!

we're a system! most frequent fronters listed below:

Thomas (host) - he/it/she, arospec bisexual, hopeless romantic, not religious really but I'd like to convert to Judaism when I'm out of my parents house, likes musicals and britcom. will also answer to Noel, Poison, Betty, Sheila, Orpheus, Emmett, Pippin, Roxie, and any of the other alters names. proficient in German. signoff is just -Thomas and tag is #tommy <3

Kevin Price - he/him, (ex?)Mormon (ex in source but will try to convert you now. probably joking), doesn't swear, gay and trans but suuuuper repressed. likes history and religion. signoff is -Kev☕️✝️ and tag is #kev!!☕️✝️😁

Marvin Cohen - he/him, Jewish (in source), gay, sad, paranoid. likes the weather and Christopher Columbus. also speaks German. signoff is -Marvin<3🌈⛈️ and tag is #marv🌈⛈️👑🌊

ask box is open for all of us, just specify who you're talking to if you're asking questions!

i (thomas) am also fictionkin! you can send me questions about memories and stuff! kin list here

Matching blog theme/PFP with my lovely queerplatonic partner @annahanover <3

DMs are OPEN to mutuals! just don't be weird please (duh) and if I don't respond I'm either in school or got scared to talk (the internet is scary but i really try to respond) mutuals can also ask for our discord!

IMPORTANT: mutuals, if you see this, please tag anything related to harry potter, rocky horror picture show, hazbin hotel, cats the musical, or helluva boss with #thomas don't look as that media makes me uncomfortable. thank you!

ALSO IMPORTANT: If you don't mind, please tag anything positive about Miss Goldberg (from In Trousers), any "I hate Marvin Falsettos" jokes, and anything about Whizzer POST-HOSPITALIZATION or his death with #marvin's blocked!, just a comfort thing, sometimes I don't have the mental strength to deal with that stuff, and I'd like to be able to control when I see it, thank you for understanding. -🌈⛈️

Proshippers, terfs, swerfs, pedos/paras, transmedicalists, transphobes, homophobes, cluster b abuse believers, anti-kin, endos/their supporters, and autism speaks supporters DNI. Blank blogs will be blocked.

suspected/self-diagnosed BPD and NPD. possible OCD/traits of OCD? but idk about that one. possible autism

diagnosed ADHD

be my mutual I need more friends and I like people

( matching with @just-watching-dont-worry )

( matching with @isopodonanescalator )

( matching with @annahanover <333 )

(blinkies are from, in order: I Fell In Love In Juvie Hall!, Love In Hate Nation // Marvin's Giddy Seizures, In Trousers // Masochist, Love In Hate Nation // I Have A Family, In Trousers // My High School Sweetheart, In Trousers // Kind Of Woman, Pippin // Tear Me Down, Hedwig and the Angry Inch // Spies Are Forever // Extraordinary, Pippin // Unlikely Lovers, Falsettos)

WAY more under cut! please read if you have the time!

Sideblogs: @buy-cheese-please, @richies-shit-poetry

My RP blogs:

@richie-lipschitz-official - Richie Lipschitz, Hatchetfield

@miss-hollys-toys - Miss Holloway but with a slight... twist (Hatchetfield)

@kingoftheocean-marvin - Marvin Cohen, In Trousers (teenage years)

@theroomisyellow - Marvin Cohen, In Trousers (married years)

@ilovemytightknitfamily - Marvin Cohen, March of the Falsettos

@gay-weatherman - Marvin Cohen, Falsettoland

@owenc1147 - Owen Carvour, Spies Are Forever

@digbick1152 - Dick Big, Spies Are Forever

@emmettforrestofficial - Emmett Forrest, Legally Blonde

@moniquegibeau-xx - Noel Gruber, Ride the Cyclone

@sturdywiththewordyshakespeare - William Shakespeare, Something Rotten!

@dingdong-elderprice - Kevin Price, The Book of Mormon

@theoneandonly-thomasthorne - Thomas Thorne, BBC Ghosts

@seymourlikesplants - Seymour Krelborn, Little Shop of Horrors

@therealdougsimon - Doug Simon, Gutenberg! The Musical!

@im-not-that-smart - Leaf Coneybear, 25APCSB (Spelling Bee)

@happyhomewrecker-impossiblesob - Larry, The Boys In the Band (2020) (this blog is run by Larry)

@theotheroneisalliveverbeen - Sheila Nail, Love In Hate Nation

@morning-glow-is-here - Pippin, Pippin (Musical)

@orandges - Karen Smith, Mean Girls (this blog is run by Larry)

@apoorboywithagifttogive - Orpheus, Hadestown

@bettywilliams-real - Betty Williams, OC!

@khowardishere - Katherine Howard, SIX: The Musical

@soundbodysoundmind - Ambrose Wellington Bassford, Adamandi

@itsgonnaberoxie - Roxie Hart, Chicago

@insanelycool-jaredkleinman - Jared Kleinman, Dear Evan Hansen

@brom-xtra-bones - Brom Bones, Headless (work in progress but send him asks if you want)

Agere sideblog: @lil-marvs-gardens

(yes, i know most of those links don't work! i don't know how to fix them)

Founder of Chastity Rocks! (Mark/Boy Jerry) (i think)

Libra, the balanced nature. Favorite ride: the wild mouse.

PLEASE interact: homosexuals, women with children, short insomniacs, and a teeny-tiny band /ref

blog title from: the chess game from falsettos

My main interests i'll post for (current hyperfixations in blue):

Love in Hate Nation

Ride the Cyclone

Fabulous Killjoys / Danger Days

BBC Ghosts

Fall Out Boy

Hadestown

Taylor Swift

My Chemical Romance

Gravity Falls

Percy Jackson / Riordanverse

Starkid / Hatchetverse

The Hunger Games

The Umbrella Academy

Spies Are Forever

Ducktales / Darkwing Duck

Falsettos / Marvin Trilogy

Gutenberg! The Musical!

Legally Blonde (musical)

Something Rotten!

The Book of Mormon (musical)

Adamandi

The Boys In the Band (2020)

Pippin (musical)

Little Shop of Horrors

Hedwig and the Angry Inch (musical)

my tags:

#sing it like the kids that are mean to you - school stuff

#npmd boys dont cry au - mine and logan's npmd au

#out of the depths of hell and back - lords in black

#swinging the hatchet now - hatchetfield posting

#sleeping on your folks porch again dreaming - poetry

#were falling apart to halftime - fall out boy

#take my fucking hand and never be afraid again - mcr

#we were born to be suburban legends - my crushes

#the rest of the world was black and white but we were in screaming color - gay rights

#my existence shouldn't be a compromise - trans rights

#we need love but all we want is danger - taylor swift, a lot of times this will be gaylor content btw. deal with it.

#sheila liveblogs learning guitar - self explanatory

#marvin's mail! - answered asks

#in trousers my beloved - in trousers (musical)

#headcanons with emmett - self-explanatory

#marvin's giddy seizures - VENT TAG block it if you don't want to see that

#richie sings - song covers!

[beeprich]

more teenage shoplifters reddie: the origins. richie is kind of the pro, she and bev are experts at it for funsies but as much fun as it is with bev she's like but what if....eds <333 but her repressed ass can't admit that she wants to spend time with Eddie cause she likes her so she broaches the subject in a really braggy way like. "look at my new bracelet. do you like it. you like it dont you??" and eddie is like "what. you dont even like jewelry" and richie is like weeell i do like it when it's free and comes with CRIME. and eddie freaks out "richie you can't shoplift that's against the law!!!" and richie replies "sounds like you're scared...well guess I'll ask bev instead if she wants to go the mall...i don't wanna go with pussies" and eddie is like nooo i'm not a pussy!! im NOT scared!!!! cause she sooo wants richie to think she is cool. like yes richie is very annoying and her voices she does are NOT amusing at all but also she's the coolest prettiest funniest girl eddie's ever met so she wants her approval sooo bad. richie is like "sIIIGH, guess I'll teach you if you wanna come so bad, but you OWE me" while inside she's all like "omg i'm going to the mall with Eddie <333 haha it'd be kinda like a date if i were a guy isn't that sooo funny"

I could kiss u rn .. like Eddie in constant competition w Bev in her own head cuz she wants to spend every waking second w Richie and doesn’t know why she’s like actually sick w jealousy

they share an auntie Anne’s pretzel before going to mall jail ♥️

[maze-of-sweets]

Out of curiosity how many Hatchetfield fictives do you guys have and who are they all of?

I/we have two, Pokey and Paul (yes, funny combo I’m aware)

Funfact Paul’s source memories are of normal life and not of TGWDLM or any other apocalypse timeline, so he only has a very basic knowledge of TGWDLM. For everyone’s sake both him and me are trying very hard to keep it that way. (Pokey will occasionally sing the “Emma I’m sorry” line when Paul’s around and I don’t know why he thinks it’s funny. Love him but he has many issues you’d expect from being a fictive of a mass murderer)

-☄️

OOO IM EXCITED FOR THIS ONE!!!!!!!

so there’s me (nibbly!!!) tinky and pokey!!!

and then richie, who’s a ghost!!! sourced from the nerdy prudes must die timeline!!!

grace who is alive and tapped into her thirst for blood!!! we’re not sure what timeline she’s from exactly!! it’s one where she made a deal with wiggly, she remembers the axe man, having sex with ghost max jagerman but does NOT remember workin girls!! so we’re kinda trying to piece it together!!! she’s not all that concerned with it!! so yeah!!!

then ted!! sourced from the tgwdlm timeline!!! last thing he remembers is dying!! no hive mind memories!!! he lets me eat his lust so he’s like my number one bff!!!

AND THEN!!! MY NUMBER ONE BABYGIRL!!! PRINCESS OF MY HEART!!!! MY DUKIE POOKIE DOUGLAS KEANE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he is so skittish and so funny to chase around in my monster form inside i luv him <333

and i think that’s everyone!!! grace and wiggly split together so every now and again he’ll pop in and out but we have to put him in the box and put him away to make sure grace is safe and okay

so i guess wiggly is an honorary member of the system but we don’t really want him here!!

[love-quinn]

—PEACE OF MIND

summary — when carmen finds out that you're putting yourself in danger to come in to your waitressing job at the bear, he admittedly gets pissed. he's not super proud of his reaction, but the two of you manage to work something out to ease his worries.

warnings — swearing, mentions of customers being assholes, the implication that if reader isn't being fed at the restaurant she doesn't eat due to money reasons, very brief mentions/implications of the possibility of reader being attacked at night

pairing — carmen berzatto x fem!waitress reader, not established relationship

pronouns — she/her, reader is HEAVILY implied to be female, also there's technically no pronouns in this one but i consider this to be the same waitress reader as my last one which does have pronouns

word count — 1.9k

note — this can 10000% be read as a standalone but i do have another carmy x waitress fic here that i think takes place kinda in the same universe if you wanna check that one out?? i hope u enjoy <333

If you were somebody who wasn’t a fan of the cold, then Chicago wasn’t the city for you. It’s one of your least favourite parts of living in Illinois, having to wear four layers to bed if you don't want to freeze in your sleep. Your apartment doesn’t have proper heating because proper heating is for rich people, apparently. You barely make enough to afford rent as it is. 

You’re doing fine. You make rent and utilities, you eat lunch and dinner at the restaurant most days. You’re not swimming in gold coins by no means, but you’re fine. That’s the reason you show up early to every single shift, if you’re being honest, you’re guaranteed at least a sandwich. 

The fact that it makes you look like a dedicated employee doesn’t hurt either.

Even when you have to trek from the train platform after getting off the L. You’re not the first person punching in the code to the service entrance that afternoon, but the kitchen is free of yelling. Sydney’s at the end of the line, it’s her shift for Family, and she flashes you a smile as you shove your duffel into your locker.

It’s not raining outside but the air is so cold and damp outside, and you dab your face with a towel. The kitchen is so much warmer than outside that for a moment it’s uncomfortable. Sydney watches you out of the corner of her eye as she sautes a collection of vegetables. “Are you alright? Is it wet out there?”

You shake your head, grabbing your apron and using the mirror you hung up on the back of your door to fix your appearance. “Just cold, sorry. I’ll be fine. You get in okay?”

Sydney nods, holding out a spoon for you, hand cupped to prevent anything from landing on the floor. You don’t question it, opening your mouth and accepting the sauce while trying to minimise the contact between your mouth and the spoon as much as possible. “Fuck, that’s good. Is there sesame oil in there?”

You didn’t know a whole lot about food if you were honest, there’s a reason that you’re not a member of the kitchen staff. But Sydney’s been teaching you slowly but surely how to recognise different flavours, which ones go best together, which ones don’t.

Her eyes light up. “Yes! You like it?”

You shut your locker, moving to stand right behind her. Your chin lands on her shoulder, watching the way she rotates her medley of ingredients. You and Sydney have started becoming actual friends rather than just work friends, the two of you went out to dinner last Sunday, miraculously neither of you had to work. “Love it, need any help?”

“No, you’re all good. Go find Richie, I’m sure he needs help with whatever shit he’s doing.”

You leave her alone with a squeeze on the elbow, heading out into the dining room to find Richie. Richie isn’t out there but you do find Carmen pulling the chairs off the tables. You don’t bother talking, you and Carmen both appreciate the quiet in a workplace as loud as the restaurant. The second you put the first chair down Carmen is flinching. “You’re early,” he says, trying not to show his irritation.

He’d left the kitchen to feel productive while being alone, but he doesn’t want to yell at you. You deal with that enough. Yelling in the kitchen is natural, it’s fucking loud in there. If he doesn’t yell, he doesn’t get heard. People aren’t moving fast enough, people aren’t using proper technique, they’re running out of ingredients, things are being moved. If Carmen didn’t yell in the kitchen it would probably burn down somehow.

You deal with all that and you have to keep a smile on your face. You get yelled at for mistakes that other people make, and you never yell back. You take it all and yeah, sometimes you need to step out into the kitchen with tears in your eyes, but you cop it all and you go back out there.

You don’t need Carmy yelling at you as well.

You shrug casually, smoothing the tablecloth. “I am a slave to the public transit system.” It’s less embarrassing than admitting you’re trying to save money by eating at work whenever you can. 

Carmen stops at that. He doesn’t know why that’s surprising to him. He’s always here before you and he’s always here after you leave. He assumed he’d never seen your car in the parking lot because of that, but apparently, it’s because you don’t have one. “You took the train here?”

It’s early afternoon and people are turning their headlights on already. The closest train station is a fair walk away and it’s freezing out there. 

You nod, not taking much notice of the change in tone. “Yeah, I usually do.”

Carmen’s abandoned the table he’s dressing to turn around and look at you. It’s almost completely dark outside, it’s the middle of winter. “You walk to work?”

You look up at him. “Yeah, Carm.” You’re really hoping he’ll drop it, but he doesn’t seem to pick up on the way you avoid looking at him. 

“That’s so fucking dumb,” he doesn’t mean to snap, but the mood in the room is frozen now. “It’s like two degrees out there, why the fuck would you do that?” You regret coming out to help him. Usually, this stuff is already done by the time you show up to work, early as usual. 

You put down the last chair at the table you’re working on and brush off your apron. “It’s not like I have any other choice, Carmen,” you’re trying to keep your voice even. The dining room is empty, it’s still, and it feels much more awkward than having the conversation anywhere else would’ve felt. “I don’t really have many other options.” 

You look around the dining room and decide that leaving Carmen to finish setup isn’t an awful fate. 

“Yes, you do!” He doesn’t drop it. His fists are clenched at his side to stop him from flinging his arms up in frustration. “You have so many other options! Why did you pick the fucking stupid one?” You can handle being yelled at. It’s a part of the job. It happens to you every single day without fail. You can handle it.

That doesn’t mean that you have to take it from Carmen, though.

“Stop it,” you don’t raise your voice at him, but you’re not quiet either.

“I just don’t fucking get it,” he huffs. Once he’s started he can’t make himself stop. 

You sigh, loudly. “Yeah, I’m not asking you to, Carmen. Okay, but don’t treat me like garbage because I can’t afford a car.”

That’s the final straw in the conversation with him, and you turn to go back into the kitchen. Maybe Richie will be playing Angry Birds on his phone in the office and he’ll let you watch. Carmen’s frown deepens. “What the fuck are you talking about? Who gives a shit that you can’t afford a car?” He dodges the table he was working on and rushes to follow you. He’s a lot less graceful than you always are with it and that’s without the tray of drinks. “Do you see that shit out there?” He stands in front of you now, pointing a heavy, tattooed arm out at the front window. “It’s fucking Chicago. You can’t be walking here in twenty fucking degrees, honey! Do you not get that? Look at you! If someone pulls a knife on you out there what the fuck are you gonna do?”

You’re frozen in front of him now. He’s throwing so much at you that you don’t know what to say. 

He’s going back to setting up now, but as he turns he blows out a breath. “Get that through your fucking head, yeah?”

That’s the part that frustrates you the most. He does this all the time, he presents you with ten different problems and no solutions. You don’t need Carmen to tell you how to live your life when you’re struggling as it is. “How else do you want me to get to work? It’s either that or you find a new fucking waitress, okay? So can we let it go? What the fuck do you want me to do about it, Carmen? ”

Carmen doesn’t want to let it go. You take the train in the fucking pouring rain and walk every night only to be yelled at by a bunch of assholes over steak. 

“I want you to not walk through Chicago in the middle of the night!” He’s exasperated. “Yesterday you left after eleven, do you know how fucking dangerous that is? Fucking… Fuck?” It comes out as a question. “Why the fuck have you been leaving me here at night to go walk home alone? What the fuck do you think I’m here for?”

You’re getting upset by the yelling, and now that he’s said everything he needs to say he can see that he’s making you visibly panicked. “I don’t know what you want from me!” You let out finally, words exhaling from your chest with force. “Just tell me what you want or stop fucking yelling at me!”

He says your name quietly, letting out a frustrated huff. “Fucking- Okay. Okay.” He runs a hand through his hair and has to bend at the waist, leaning on the table you just fixed up, head buried in his arms. He takes a quick three second breather, trying to force down the ugly bubble of anger that’s rising familiarly to the surface, ready to spill out of his mouth. “If we are at the restaurant together and it’s the middle of the night, and I have a car…” he pauses, trying to give you time to follow along after previously overwhelming you. “... and you don’t.” You blink over at him. “Why the fuck would you not ask me to drive you home?”

“Because you’re my boss?” The answer comes easily, and it almost startles him how quickly you respond. “What? Why are you asking me this?”

Carmen knows, deep down, that he wouldn’t offer the same courtesy to Marcus or Fak or god forbid Richie. Sydney or Tina? If they asked, sure. But he would never stand in front of them in the dining room to yell at them for not asking. He likes to think it’s because he knows you’re different. You don’t yell back, you don’t antagonise him, you don’t push like they do. You handle it, and you’re gentle and you’re soft and for some fucking reason the idea of anything happening to you makes him feel like he has just been mugged in the street. 

“Just,” he waves a hand in front of his face. He can hear Sydney calling out, probably something important knowing her. “Please, honey, promise me that you’ll let me at least drive you to the fucking train station? Okay? For my own peace of mind. How far away from the station do you live?”

You tell him and he’s immediately groaning. “No, alright. I’m driving you home.” He sounds frustrated, not mad at you, but less than pleased. You don’t take it to heart. “Now please, go back inside the kitchen and fucking eat something, you’re giving me an irregular heartbeat.”

[mushroominlove]

A/N: reuniting with my boys rich and seth,, I like it but I also don't write very often but like this?? <333

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Finally stepping onto the porch, a warm mug in hand, settling himself in his ancient porch swing. The night was supposed to cool but Anthony sat watching the sun just barely wavering on the horizon wondering. Wondering why the air sat so hot and still, it was suffocating, and if it had anything to do with the guests he was expecting. His best friend and his best friend's brother. And another, someone young, new, not as scared as they should be. Anthony made extra horchata in anticipation. Richard's favorite, his brother, Seth, favored it too but wouldn't admit it.

The lull of the swing and the near blinding light of the sunset had Anthony practically hypnotized, at least it did until the rough sound of tires turning hard on the dirt road brought him back. He stood up when the car stopped in front of his house. Setting his mug on the ledge of the banister he leaned on, hands clasped together, he waited to see just who could've stopped by. Of course he knew already, Anthony always knew. Many found it unsettling.

"Look who dropped by. If it isn't los Geckos hermanos- my boys!" Anthony laughed on his way down the stairs. Richie met him halfway, lifting him into a hug.

"We are not your boys." Seth sounded tired.

"Yes we are, Bug." Richie was quick to reassure his friend. By now both brothers were standing at the stairs together, not nearly long enough to be waiting, before Ant spoke again.

"You're missing someone, no?" He was trying to peer into the tinted windows of the shiny car, searching.

"Christ, I forgot you're weird," Seth grumbled, waving into the car for whomever to exit, "yeah, Tony, there's another."

If he weren't trying to make a good impression he would've done more than glare at the older man. He despised being called Tony. He finally withdrew his eyes and looked at a young woman. A child, really, maybe 18. She was already smiling at him, it was returned with ease.

"Hia, sweetheart, I'm Anthony." And normally she would've recoiled at the nickname but something about him was different. Genuine, soft, even.

She took his hand, a firm shake and a simple I’m Katie and she was pulled into an unanticipated hug, she laughed and looked at the brothers who only shrugged. Let it happen Seth mouthed hands up in faux surrender. And she did, finding the feeling almost strange after so much heartache. And they pulled away just as quickly.

"Come on inside, drinks are ready and dinner is in the oven. I've already got the rooms set up and the first aid kit on deck," Anthony was already walking inside, forgetting his mug on the banister Seth was sure to snag it on his way in.

"Divvy out showers and such and we'll eat and talk because I know these two have a heap of trouble just followin 'em huh?" Anthony joked, glancing at Katie who could only nod and let out a sort of airy laugh at the change of pace and energy inside the house.

Anthony was one of their oldest friends, might as well have been the only one at this point. He and Richard were always close, best of friends, affectionate and protective, joined at the hip as kids. Seth was dubbed best friend by association, mostly, as he and Anthony had such a different relationship. Just as protective but so much more rough around the edges. Always butting heads but quick to cut anyone else who thought it was okay, it was rare to hear them say a kind word about the other as they were always pushing buttons. Still, back in the day if you saw one the other two were likely getting into trouble not far off.

He kept in touch with both brothers, just barely. He mostly wrote to Seth but would try to drive out to meet up with Richie, keeping him mostly sane until he hid so even Ant couldn't find him.

Katie got first dibs on the shower, claiming she’d eat afterwards. The boys took a seat at the island counter watching Anthony fish out the food from the oven and pour them drinks. Serving them in silence he caught Seth with his mug, smugly drinking the contents of his forgotten drink. "Dick, that's mine." He complained, snagging the mug from his hands as he finished it. Anthony continued to quietly whine into his cup as he refilled it, considering taking the drink he just placed in front of Seth back. He didn't. Instead he waited as his boys ate, staring into his fresh cup, wondering what exactly they would tell him. Anthony already had some ideas but his visions were never crystal clear.

Richard, who was easily distracted by the food, couldn't help but watch the strange interaction between his friend and brother. It wasn't any different than it used to be, nor was it all that different than his own interactions with Bug but he knew it was different. Somehow it was different, it just was but he was wrong about this sort of stuff all the time. Richie really took his time looking at them between shoveling food into his mouth.

"You wanna taste your food first, Richard?" Anthony spoke up from his place against the counter. There was no malice or force behind his voice, he was teasing. In response Richie sniffed hard and took his next bite agonizingly slow, not breaking eye contact. Once he took the bite he almost tumbled out of his chair.

"What is with you two and staring into one another's souls." Seth laughed, retracting his arm from shoving Richie.

"Huh? one another souls?"

"Thought eye contact was a good thing?"

Anthony and Richard spoke at the same time and before they could react a laugh sounded from behind them.

Katie came walking out, hair still wet, but in fresh clothes. When the boys turned around Anthony already had a plate ready, setting it down in front of her as she sat.

"Thank you- so much, really." Katie was beyond grateful. Being here, the warmth from this specific place and the thought of what they'd eventually be going back out to, made her savor it all a little more.

"So is anyone gonna fill me in?"

"What you don't know already? Haven't gotten any of those, uh," Seth started saying, waving his hand and wiggled his fingers at him for emphasis,"freaky visions you used to get all the time?" Another chortle from Rich and Kate as Anthony smack Seth's hand away.

"You know damn well that it's never straightforward. I get bits and pieces and y’all are lucky I like puzzles," He pointed at them as he walked away to the living room. Kate sat confused but didn't bother asking anything because she knew there would be answers. Seth leaned in close to her. "Sketchbook."

And as if on cue Anthony walked in holding up a spiral-bound book like some kind of trophy. He slapped it on the counter and started flipping through it, everyone gazed at it in curiosity, and he began to speak up.

"Gods and monsters, ya know, vague and threatening. Snake bites and totems I don't recognize," the spread he had open was a litter of graphite. At first it almost didn't make sense, drawn so hastily, sketches overlapping, smudges clouding the page. Snake fangs, tunnels, and halos, carvings from temple walls that he just couldn't have seen before. It made Kate's skin crawl, how truly real the drawings seemed, if only just for a moment. She went looking to the Geckos for understanding but they didn't seem phased at all. Glancing back at Anthony, he spoke again,

"So what the hell happened to you guys?”

[rainbownixie]

i normally ask u abt stranger things but i'm gonna switch things up today. u should talk to me about stenbrough + aro bill maybe

also i hope u feel better soon <333

the way i've been thinking about stenbrough today- you literally read my mind!!! and bill is so aro (demiromantic actually) lol it's canon stephen king told me himself actually!!!! (gonna focus more on the 2017 adaptation because i can and because the 90s film and the book give me more hanbrough energy)

bill has never really liked anyone romantically. never understood all the romance in general. he understands why people like it so much (specially after having to hear eddie talking about richie all the damn time), but he's somehow unable to portray it in his stories because he doesn't know how it truly feels like! so he feels the need to fall in love and look for the thing he lacks before it's too late! he's an impatient boy, after all

he feels deeply attached to stan. he cares a lot for him and often finds himself drawing the boy because he just looks so... beautiful that he can't help it. bill just loves spending time with him. it's relaxing and calm and somehow a bit exciting (his heartbeat goes faster whenever stan smiles or laughs) but he guesses it's because he's different from the other two idiots he calls his best friends. stan is different from everyone else, really.

and then bevs appears! and she's obviously pretty and awesome and the coolest girl he's ever met. he definitely feels something for her, but he can't exactly explain what. attraction for sure, but thanks to that bill assumes he likes her. romantically. it's actually just a silly crush because, in all honesty, who wouldn't have a crush on bevs? (probably reddie only tbh)

oh, and stan hates it. he doesn't have beverly, of course, he would never. in fact he likes her a lot! she's pretty much the only one smart and cool enough to handle all of those idiots with him. they get along. it's just that... bill looks at her the way stan wants him to look at him. and it's frustrating, because he used to think there was something between them. perhaps he was just wrong.

and bill keeps thinking he's somehow in love with bevs, so he tries to write something romantic once again. but he can't. he just can't. he can draw beverly and describe her beauty but he can't, for some reason, write down what he feels for her. maybe he's just broken, or that's what he thinks. because for eddie is so easy to be in love with richie (even if he constantly denies it) and bill just wants to feel that way.

even when beverly flirts back, he just can't get himself to feel the way he wants to feel around her. the way he feels around stan. but he still thinks it's because stan is just different. even different enough to compare him to bevs.

stanley talks to richie about bill A LOT. and it's funny because he always tries to complain and blame bevs, but he just can't. and richie makes fun of him and makes jokes to comfort him, but he genuinely doesn't know what to do because he's also in love with his best friend and he's a coward just like stan. at least they're both losers together, and that sort of comforts them both.

eddie knows bill is in love with stan. it's painfully obvious and it's killing eddie with frustration because he knows that if he tells bill then he will probably deny it and say it's impossible. because stan is special and different but not in that way. and eddie is so so tired of hearing bill talk about how pretty bevs is, but how he still doesn't know how love feels like and doubts that he will ever love somebody. (little does he know that it's because he's demiromantic)

ben builds their little underground hideout!! and god bill thinks it's the perfect place to stare at stan without him noticing. he can seat on a corner while he talks with another loser and draw him. he's just pretty okay? what's bill gonna do? not draw him??? his whole sketchbook is full of drawings of stan and sketches of all the birds he likes.

they often go bird watching together. because bill loves drawing the birds (and stan) and stan likes to talk about them for hours. bill really likes his voice.

every time bill feels lonely he calls stan and viceversa. they often even meet late at night in secret just to spend time together and watch the stars. they almost kiss once, but bill for scared before it could happen.

stan loves reading bill's stories. he often gives him ideas and analogies and metaphors to use!! he's his fan n1 and his beta reader. although they don't realize he's his beta reader, bill just likes to show him his stories first because it feels right.

stan always lets bill finish his sentences and helps him with his reading because he knows how annoying it is for him when people interrupt him

remember that period of summer where they aren't together? yeah, well. richie has to deal with stan complaining about how careless and how much of an idiot bill was. that he's an asshole and a jerk and selfish for making them all go through that. and richie sort of agrees, to be honest. because he misses being able to be with eddie and the others and the whole thing almost gets them killed. but he knows it's even harder for stan, because it isn't just a silly crush on bill. he's in love with bill. and only richie knows how that feels.

stan knows that bill and bevs see each other from time to time that summer. it really bothers him but it's not like he's going to apologize to bill. he really feels like shit because he thought bill would care enough to go after him and apologize, but apparently stan isn't special enough.

bill calls eddie once to apologize and they talk a lot (when his mom isn't home ofc) and he mentions he misses stan. because he does! he's gotta be honest and he misses stan the most! he even has his silly little shower hat against spiders with him only because he refuses to let go of it. oh, and he starts writing something. it's pretty angsty, but it's better than nothing. and he knows it's about stan but doesn't really want to accept that the 'love' part is about him too.

the whole clown thing happens, and bill almost loses stan. and he doesn't want to lose someone else again. he realizes, then, that he's of course scared when bevs is all possessed by the deadlights. he loves her. but he doesn't love her the same way he loves stan. it's scary too, but it's not the same type of scary.

then ben kisses beverly, and bill thinks he's supposed to be jealous. he should be, if he really liked bevs. but he isn't. he doesn't care. he's just worried and wants that damn kiss to work. and it works! but maybe he should've been jealous, or so he thinks.

yay! scary clown is dead! all the losers cheered! and bill finds himself not leaving stan's side when they get out of there. not because ben, bevs and mike are together and richie and eddie are walking on their own. but because he wants him close. and he doesn't exactly know what's the feeling inside of him, but he wants to hold stan's hand. he doesn't, of course, but he wants to. and he suddenly feels the need to write.

he gets to hold stan's hand and kind of wished it was on another circumstances, but that have to make that umm pact with blood? (i'm with eddie here that's so damn unhygienic) and he gets to look into his eyes directly. he looks down, and bill feels the urge to kiss stan. because he knows he's still scared af and is only doing the whole pact thing for them. and he wants to calm him down. eddie told him one day that kissing reduces anxiety, but he knows he doesn't want to kiss stan because of that.

stan only makes that promise for bill (and maybe for richie too) because he just doesn't want to picture a future in which he has to fight and not be on his side. he also doesn't want to look like a coward. damn, even ben and eddie are doing it! and bill is so damn close he wants to cry.

bill kisses bevs, only to know if he actually feels something for her. but he doesn't feel anything, and wishes he could've kissed stan right then and there when he had the chance. bevs only smiles when he sees his shocked expression, because he just realized that he's in love with stan. and she's too smart to not notice.

time goes by and bill gets married to audra! but it's weird because he still feels empty, somehow. he loves her a lot and he knows her by heart but they haven't really created that bond he needs to write romance. well, he doesn't remember his youth so he just assumes he isn't good at writing romance and that's all. but then he finds himself, after mike's call, being able to think about thousands of romantic ideas for his books. and it's weird because he's fucking frightened to go to derry again, but he doesn't feel empty anymore.

(stan isn't dead bc i said so) stan shows up! awesome! and he's married to patty but his heart literally drops the moment he sees bill. he's just so... so different but yet the same bill he knew.

bill wants to draw stan the moment he walks through that door and if he weren't so damn scared he probably would've asked him to go bird watching right at that moment.

they find out they're both married! and it's... uncomfortable. bevs sees that. she knows. richie knows. MIKE DEFINITELY KNOWS. and it's so damn obvious.

they get a moment together alone in that motel and bill wants to show him something he's been working on and confesses he's only been in love once and doubts it could happen again. he doesn't get to say with who or show him his story, because then bevs says something about seeing all of them literally dying and everything gets a bit tense.

yadda yadda yadda pretty much normal plot

they obviously find stan's object first, but he can't be with anyone because they're supposed to find those things alone. so he comes back to the motel. and guess what he finds???? exactly he finds the pages bill wanted to show him before! and they're all about how lonely someone can feel when they can't fall in love, but how complete the protagonist felt around his curly haired best friend. one that loves birds and is a boy scout. and stan feels guilty and as a really shitty husband because he loves patty, but it's bill telling him somehow that he loves him back and he just can't help but smile.

stan is so freaking scared because he doesn't want to die but doesn't want to leave them all alone either. they need him for it to work. bill tells him that he needs him there with them. and they're so close and bill didn't stutter once so he accepts. richie raises his eyebrows at him and he hates it.

yadda yadda yadda plot of the movie. scary clown happens. stan actually saves eddie! no one dies! this is amazing! god i love to fix stephen's bury your gays trope!

he tells bill at the quarry that he read what he wrote, and bill stutters and gets all nervous but stan is just so damn done with their back and forth that he just kisses him! the losers are all so damn happy and reddie is canon too bc i said so

anyway they end up on a polyam relationship with patty and audra because i love those girls with my whole heart and bill ends up loving stan and his wife the same! demiromantic stuff he just needed to bond more with her and have stan close.

this was so damn long i am sorry i just love them- i loved this ask btw people never ask me about IT so it's awesome to talk about it here <3 (i'm too tired to read all of this again if there's any typo i am sorry) and this really helped me so!!! thank you so so much 💛💛🌻🌻

[suicidalslasher]

(I actually like this version better tbh <333)

Car rides to Malibu, strawberry ice cream. One spoon for two And trading jackets, laughing 'bout how small it looks on you. (Ha-ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-ha)

"Welcome to act three"

Your eyes widen as Amber begins pointing the gun at you and your friends.

What what fuck just happened?!

One minute you were helping Liv find her boyfriend the next your best friend Amber was shooting her in the head!

The next few seconds happen in a blur. You, Richie, and Sam all part ways. Was it stupid? Yes. Was it equally idiotic? Yep. But there were two things on your mind at the moment. 1. Finding your boyfriend Wes and 2. Surviving.

Watching reruns of Glee, being annoying, singing in harmony. I bet she's bragging, to all her friends, saying you're so unique, hmm.

You find yourself at the back door and you almost tumble to the floor after bumping into Wes.

"Wes?!"

You both jump back and you imminently notice that his shirt has blood on it. A lot of blood.

"Wes, oh my god!"

You begin to try to search him but he puts his hands on your shoulders.

"It-it's not my blood- its Chad's... What the fuck is happening?!?"

"Amber is the killer!"

"What?!"

"Amber is the fucking killer! She shot Liv in the head, she killed Tara, she killed my father"

"We have to get out of here."

You nod at him before he grabs your hands before making you follow him and without thinking, you do.

So, when you gonna tell her that we did that, too? she thinks it's special, but it's all reused. That was our place, I found it first, I made the jokes you tell to her when she's with you.

When you and Wes get to the kitchen, Gale and Sid are there, Amber pointing a gun at them with Gale having a bullet wound.

"Run!" Gale shouts and you imminently turn before running into Wes...who puts a knife in your stomach.

Do you get déjà vu when she's with you? Do you get déjà vu? (Ah), hmm. Do you get déjà vu, huh?

Letting out a shocked gasp, you fall to the floor before Wes catches you, forcing you into a chair. Wes gives you a Cheshire grin before taking out a voice changer.

"What"s the matter, y/n? You look like you seen a ghost."

"Leave my daughter out of this, bitch!" Gale shouts. Amber grins before pointing a gun to you.

"Oh, doesn't she? I mean, she is your daughter, after all." Wes asks. "You wanna tell her or do you?"

"You can." Grins Amber.

"Well," Wes begins, moving a piece of hair with his knife. "The stab movies have been out of control and Amber and I decided to do our own movie. And we thought, since requals of old slashers - Halloween, texas chainsaw, etc. - we could do our own!"

"So, our relationship was a lie?" You ask, tears begin to fall and Wes mocks a pout face.

"To be honest? No. Not at first, but you know how it is."

"Anyway, Amber and I decided to do our own and we wanted redo Billy and Stu's 1996 spree but obviously, not a direct copy. The legacy character's relatives would have to do!"

"Lure the daughter of Billy Loomis back into town before turning the daughter of Dewey and Gale into the potential final girl!"

Sidney was too stunned to talk. It was like reliving 1996 all over again.

Same story, different font.

Do you call her amost say my name? Cause let's be honest we kinda do sound the same. Another actress, I hate to think that I was just your type.

"Amber wanted to go for Dewey, but I managed to convince her to let me do it, just like how Billy and Stu's first victim was Sidney's mom. But with my mom and vince, I had to improvise a bit."

Sidney and Gale tried to move forward to you but Amber and Wes were faster.

"One more move and your daughter is going to join your ex-husband- "

"Fuck you!" You headbutt him and fall backward.

I'll bet that she knows Billy Joel. Cause you played her "Uptown Girl" You're singing it together.

Chaos breaks out as Gale and Sidney begin fighting Amber and your head spins as you manage to hold onto the counter and get up. Wes rides in pain on the floor. You quickly grab the biggest knife you can find and quickly limp out of the kitchen.

Wes begins calling out your name as you lay in wait behind a door. Wes comes into the living room and you take the chance and you ambush him; jumping onto his back.

Now I bet you even tell her how you love her In between the chorus and the verse (ooh) (I love you) So when you gonna tell her that we did that, too?

You too struggle but there is no winner as you too fall to the ground. Your inhaler falls out from your pocket, you crawl to it, but before you can grab it, Wes steps on your hand.

"Now," he picks you up, shoving you into a chair "baby, don't be difficult." Using duck tape he ties you up before bending down to you.

"You're the final girl. You're my final girl. How do you feel?"

"Like i'm going to kick your ass."

She thinks it's special, but it's all reused. That was the show we talked about, played you the song she's singing now when she's with you.

"There's the fiery attitude I love!"

"Fuck you!"

"Now you're just quoting the original."

"You should thank me, your dad was pathetic!"

You somehow slip out from the duck tape before once again attacking Wes. You take him to the floor and you start wrestling for the knife.

Do you get déjà vu when she's with you? Do you get déjà vu? Oh, do you get déjà vu?

He knocks you off before grabbing the knife and he puts puts it up to you. You spot his pepper spray that his mom had gave him. You reach for it before using it on him.

He screams in pain before once again dropping the knife and falling to the ground. Grabbing Wes's extra gun you play it safe and shoot him.

Strawberry ice cream in Malibu, ron't act like we didn't do that shit, too. You're trading jackets like we used to do (Yeah, everything is all reused)

You hurry back to the kitchen to see Amber on the floor, burned and dead. With a shocked expression before Gale embraces you in a hug.

As the three of you go to leave, it's a little too quiet and with before anybody can do anything, Wes pops up, and you quickly grab the gun from Gale and shoot Wes.

Finally. It was over.

Play her piano, but she doesn't know (oh, oh) that I was the one who taught you Billy Joel (oh) A different girl now, but there's nothing new (I know you get déjà vu)

I‘M INLOVE WITH THIS. YES. THANK YOU FOR SUBMITTING IT TO ME!!! 🥰❤️ Also, this did, in fact, inspire me via my story to add chapters to it so bless you. (Cause I’m gonna be real with you… I was having a difficult time putting pieces together.)

How would you like to be named, by the way? (That’s worded wrong, my bad, lol)

I can give you a certain emoji (I see a lot of people do that with certain anons) that way I can dedicate the fic and the few chapters to you!! 😁💓

[queer-whatchamacallit]

I just rewatched 1x02 of The Bear, and took notes to get deeper into these fucked up silly guy’s heads, so here we go!!

Tw: workplace abuse, intentional emeto

The staff at EMP wear white tops, black pants, and a blue apron which Carm continued after his switch to The Beef

With both the “why?” bit and “Do you like working with fucking idiots?” “I’ll do better,” the only accepted response is that a mistake was made and it was their fault

“Do you like working with fucking idiots?” “I’ll do better.” “Say ‘yes Chef’” both serve to paint Carm as a fucking idiot and to show Chef as always deserving his respect

There’s a constant flip flop between absolutely tearing Carm to shreds and making him feel like dirt beneath Chef’s shoe for the problem that occurred and making sure he’s keeping work flowing at a rate and quality that’s acceptable to Chef (which it never will be)

I’m sure you’ve seen the “Chef saying ‘you should be dead’ was off screen so you can’t tell if it was actually Chef or if that was in Carmy’s head,” and I lean more toward the latter. I know it’s plausible (which is really fucked up), but I just like the narrative possibilities for Carm starting to hear Chef’s voice. It sounds different too. It’s whispered, but Chef had to be careful about who heard that one more than everything else, so idk

His eyes are kinda hazy through the whole thing, and when it’s over, he stalls for a second before blinking hard and brushing it off. He still sounds kind of off-kilter after though.

There’s a time skip I never noticed before where one moment, he’s desperately calling hands, and the next, they’re cleaning up after service. Maybe unintentional but maybe slipping in a little of that s1 unreality and showing that Carmy misses time sometimes

Marcus just loves messing with Richie, first his cologne and second “DeVry, we’re serious about success!!” and he’s so real for that

SYDNEY: [mocking laughter] <333

Carm doesn’t actually clean the floors with a toothbrush, he had a rag which feels… weird. His floor-cleaning toothbrush is such a staple in fics

He walks to and from work

On his coffee table, he has an ash tray, a mason jar of water, and some clutter I couldn’t make out

“YOU KILLED MICHAEL” on the order tickets is an interesting one. I’d probably tie this most easily to the train of thought that he wasn’t there, but he could have helped, and if he never left, Michael would still be alive. Maybe he thinks the pressure of having to deal with him as a kid contributed or that his success as a high end chef made Mike feel like shit by comparison, but idk, there’s a lot of ways you could go here

“That’s um… a lot of words.” We have a work day here and reading about managing his business is not fast and exciting and Carmy is a little blood-sniffing shark, if he stops moving, he’ll die. Fr kinda love him for this but am pissed at him for just shoving it back to Syd

“Is my hair on fire?” I had to look up a definition, but Carmy’s starting to wonder if he’s just totally fucked and if The Beef can make it out of this. It’s interesting to see him so unsure of whether he’s going to make it. “Not yet, no, but you need help,” just feels nice. It’s both sugar-coated and completely accurate

I love Ebra for just listening to T rant about how much she hates Syd, and later, he just fuckin rocks it when Syd calls orders out. Ebra’s one of my favs <33

Syd with her journal shows the first signs of her impatience and Richie interrupting her with the inspector I think finally flipped the switch of her just absolutely despising him

Them getting a C and seeing everyone go through the 5 stages of grief is so funny omg

Syd breaking up fights and stubborn idiot-proofing by getting the right caulk was so hot girl of her

“Fak, fix that fuckin sound.” I want to know what made the difference between this and the “I don’t mind it” alarm during the s2 Cicero meeting

“He’s a baby. Don’t get Carmen into trouble, y’know? I was a baby too once, Sydney. Nobody gave a fuck.” This is pretty self explanatory, but… yeah ouch

Carm’s willing to vent to Jimmy about work with the slightest encouragement. Might point to them having a closer relationship, or maybe Carm would vent about work to whoever will listen

“I asked you where you’ve been.” So he hasn’t seen Cicero or his mom since moving back, and I feel like him and Nat had at least texted or called before 1x01 but probably not seen each other, could be wrong on that though. So he just dove headfirst into the restaurant the second he got back to Chicago, and hasn’t even talked to the family he’s been self-isolating from for the past 5 years

I love Carm’s phone password being 11111

Edit: I’m watching this ep yet again, and the flowers on the table in the scene with Pete are the same from his cooking show dream in 1x08!!! Maybe tying in that he feels like his slow breakdown is being seen by everyone he knows, not just those connected just by cooking. Or maybe it’s connecting his conversation with Sugar to how he was also struggling especially hard at the time of the dream, but then, I feel like it would be in Sugar’s kitchen when they’re talking about it. Idk but I love this detail a lot

Sugar doesn’t seem to treat Pete super great :’(. She kinda pushes him away after he hands her the phone, and he instantly assumes that she’s telling him to shut the fuck up. She is the sibling trying hardest to change and be healthier, but she did indeed inherit that Berzatto temper and fast pace to the point of rudeness

Carm’s “Did you hear I apologized? :D” is so funny to me

Carm will vent to Sugar when something happens that’s more in the mental side of things. He wants to be casual about it, doesn’t want to think too hard into how deeply fucked he is, but he needed to talk to someone about almost setting his apartment on fire

Apparently he sleep cooks “sometimes,” and that wasn’t the only time

We know that the breathing difficulties started “sometime in New York maybe?” and I feel like crying out of nowhere is a little more recent, but the nightmares could’ve started at any time, or maybe he was saying New York for all 3, who knows

“I don’t want to bother you.” When considering who to tell what, he does consider his perceived burden on the other person

“I was throwing up every day before work… kinda dug it.” This quote has naturally festered in my brain for the past couple months because it says so much about him. He experiences stress nausea and maybe it became an intentional way of gaining control and consistency in an environment that fought so hard to make him feel faceless and powerless. It shows how far he is willing to go for this. He’ll do whatever it takes, including making himself vomit from anxiety. In his mind, it helps him become a better chef. Could also illustrate his likely connection between perfection and suffering. He kinda dug it. He felt like that self-destruction was necessary for him to excel. I could go on all day

He stayed there because “People loved the food. It felt good.” Here’s his stated motivation. His actual motivation is some messed up combination of that and lot of stuff he talks about in his Al-Anon speech: the excitement of being that good at something for once, just keeping going, hoping that one day, Mikey would acknowledge how good he was at it. People loving the food was confirmation that he was really fucking good at this. More than anything though, he wanted Mike to love the food

When the health inspector reveals that a pack of cigarettes was left by the stove, it doesn’t cross his mind that it was him. He was the CDC at EMP, he wouldn’t make a mistake like that, but he did, and now, this is just reinforcing how fucked everything’s gotten, especially himself. He’s just the type of person who leaves cigarettes by stovetops now

And yeah, that’s 1x02 - Hands all good and done!! Again, I don’t know how far I’ll get with these, but they’re very fun