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writella · 8 months

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Trinkets; The Gifts of Gold He Gave You

Synopsis: A detailed record of all the special objects Daryl has found for you while hunting, riding, supply gathering, and living in the various places he has in the new world. These objects often lead to sweet moments of kindness, joy, and understanding between the two of you, deepening your connection. Although they are things others might not think much of— they were simply small gestures or trinkets after all— you believed these memories and mementos to be gifts of gold; they would shine in your mind forever onward.

Details: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader, mutual pining, kisses, lots of love and ♡ sweetness ♡ (true self indulgence at its finest), but there are also descriptions of trauma, abuse, and self-hate. Though other than that, it’s nothing else except Daryl being an endearing friend and future loverboy to you. This travels across the plot and setting of season 6-8, but it might not be a perfect fit. Lastly, even though these can be read anthologically, I did write them in a storyline as if there was an order in which Daryl gives or does these things with the reader as their relationship grows, so some past trinkets might be mentioned in the next story, but it truly isn’t too big of a deal; this is one you can have fun with! ♡

Author’s Note: My dearest reader, this one took much longer than I intended, but I think it’s because I put so much of my silly heart-filled imagination into it— truly one of my favorites to write thus far. I’m just so happy to give it to you. Feel free to read these all at once, one at a time, or pick the ones that best fit who you are. with love, writella . ♡ ⋆ ☽

Trinkets moodboard & visualizer here!

Trinket No. 1: The Ribbon ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ ⟡.•

A Bow from a Bowman

Daryl was out on a hunt one morning when he found it. It’s like he was compelled to pick it up, he did it without even thinking. It was nothing, honestly: kind of silly really, and flimsy, slightly covered by grass blades— it was dirty and discarded. But there was something about it, something tender… it reminded him of you, even though in some ways still, he hardly knew you at all.

It had been over a month since Daryl came back home to Alexandria; just a month since you entered what was supposed to be your new home. But also a week or so long journey it had been to unexpectedly find you and bring you back.

He remembered it well: you were covered in dirt, tired and hungry, running for your life from the past group you were with. He was going to let you go and mind his business— you looked scared of him anyway when you crashed into him. But most importantly, he had just lost his crossbow, his bike, and maybe even a little bit of his dignity to Dwight who stole them. He didn’t feel like getting tricked again, especially since it takes a lot to trick him; he wasn’t letting that happen again. Especially not the day after. And most especially not for a seemingly young and innocent-looking girl like Dwight’s wife, Sherry or that kid they were with, Tina.

But then, he heard the yelling, the hollering, the men– they wanted you, and none of it was for the right reasons. Very wrong and scary reasons they were indeed, ones he would soon come to understand were things you’d never want to live out or discuss again. He understood that feeling, so he stayed. He hid behind a tree. He decided to help again. Who knows of your innocence, but what was definitely true was that you were a lost and lonely girl in the woods. He knew a thing or two about those unfortunately, those stories ended badly.

Sad enough, the hiding and helping— or attempting to— led him to become a prisoner with you and your ‘group.’ He barely got scraps of food, and every night was just another day of seeing your tears, your face in a permanent state of desolation and misery; staying ever silent even when you were yelled at— even when you were forced to do things you didn’t want to do. You looked scared and small.

It was only when you all reached a hospital, one you burned to the ground just to get away from them, that Daryl saw the fight in you. You didn’t even ask for his help and he tried to save you, but in the end, you saved him. A silent soldier, you were. He returned the favor with the least he could do: he took you home.

And now there you both were. You sat by Rick’s fireplace. No one was home yet, and you had just put Judith down for the night. Daryl found you there on the floor with a book. He quietly sat near you. All you two said was hello.

And this was normal, actually– the being around each other, showing up unannounced, sitting beside each other– talking or not– or you, trying to help him with whatever work he was up to. He tried to fight it at first, but it became a regular thing. It’s what helped Daryl get to know you, and you to him.

You were equally as fierce as the fire you created not long ago, but just as gentle. Just as desiring to smile and create friendships. He knew that now. And he— he was just as rock solid and straightforward as the crossbow he once carried, but just delicate. Just as easily hurt and as quick to hide, yet so deeply desiring of loyalty and acceptance. You know that now too.

It’s still so soon, but you admired him, so deeply. You wanted to learn from him. You thought he was strong, and you wanted to be strong. All that anguish and pain and he came out a fighter, a leader.

Little did you know that is exactly what he thought of you. He went from seeing you cry yourself to sleep every night to becoming the kind and generous friend you were to almost everyone you met. Always offering to care for Judith, or allowing Carl to come to you to talk, or learning about guns and shooting with Rosita. And of course finding a way to go on supply runs, or learn to hunt, or fight walkers with Daryl as much as you could. As always, he pretended not to care that much, but he did. He couldn’t help it. He values his independence, but it was nice that there was someone who wanted to be around him so much. And he admired you for his own reasons as well: You’re someone who fills others up with lightness when such dark things have happened. He felt like that every time you two we’re together. He wanted to learn from you too.

As he sat there, thinking, he wondered if maybe that’s why he thought of you when he saw it. Maybe it was the brightness and softness of it, despite finding it on the ground, despite it being dirty. He cleaned it up, and it still shined, that’s like you but… he was still unsure. Maybe it truly was nothing, maybe it was stupid.

He looked to his side, watching your figure for a moment as he decided what to do. You were on your stomach, laying on the small rug that sat in front of the fire. You were continuing the chapter you were on, paying little attention to him. He only said ‘hey,’ after all. And you did wave back, you asked him how his day was, but all he gave you was a typical response, ‘fine,’ he had said. You thought maybe this visit wasn’t about talking so you left it. And all of this was typical anyway, for Daryl to come by Rick’s, or for you two to sit in peaceful silence, but then you started to see him fidget in his spot in your periphery, like he couldn’t decide how he wanted to sit, hands adjusting his jeans, moving things in his pocket.

“Do you wanna go to the porch?” You thought maybe he was reaching for a smoke. “I can put on the baby monitor…” He just shook his head at the suggestion.

You decide to move to the spot next to him, leaning your back against the wall. “Did something happen today?” Your voice was soft as you tilt your head, trying to reach his eyes.

“No,” he shook his head again, he was facing forward. “It’s just…”

“What?” You asked calmly.

He found it hard to speak, “Just- just brought something.” He reached into his pocket one last time, his hand in a fist as it made its way closer between the two of you until he started to release his fingers from his palm slowly.

It was a ribbon. A pearly light pink one. Just scattered in his hand. “It’s stupid,” he grumbled quietly, trying to shove it back down his pocket, but you stop him.

“Wait,” your hands gently cupping the other side of his and then you pick it up, letting him go. You wrap the ribbon around your finger and you tie it into a bow, examining it in your palm now. “This is for me?” Soft disbelief enchanted your voice. You made sure not to sound too excited or too surprised. You didn’t want to scare him, especially since he replied with:

“It's nothin’.” He was feeling slightly embarrassed.

“It's so nice,” your voice continued in its understated tone despite your smile becoming uncontainable. You couldn’t help the way your lips were curling upward, it was even hurting your cheekbones to try to make your teeth shine through a little less— Daryl Dixon just gave you a gift. And it was a little pink thing at that. Perhaps miracles are real. “It's perfect,” you say, “I can wear it in my hair.”

“It's stupid.” He repeated, brushing you off, but you saw right through him. Daryl doesn’t do anything for no reason at all.

“It's not.” Your words are so kind as your interject, “You know, sometimes it's the smallest things that mean everything. They become our favorite things even.” Your lips pressed together, forming another smile as he meets your gaze, “Like your vest that needs to be patched up.”

“It's fine,” he almost sounded defensive. It made you laugh.

As messed up as it is, it truly was fine. It was his and he loved it; that made it so. And he didn’t only have the vest, he also had his cut-up button-downs, and those ties he laced on the bottom of his jeans— you knew those were probably because the pants available didn’t always fit all the time, but nonetheless— these were all things that made him and his clothing unique from the others. Even in the apocalypse, Daryl was one of the few that maintained a personal style. You couldn’t help but love it. He could, and often always was, the guy covered all in dirt and grim and blood but he still had something about his look that was simply just him.

You missed that. Having those personal touches, and now here Daryl was with this. The simplest thing, but he brought it for you. It was your special piece, your special something. It truly was perfect.

“C’mere,” Daryl gestured, taking the ribbon from your hand and moving your shoulders so your back faced him. He undid the bow and cuffed your hair, he actually almost yanked your head with the way he gathered the ponytail, honestly– he forgets his strength, but you said nothing. Only giggling slightly, but you were mostly quiet. You tried to keep it down, afraid he might stop if he thought you were making fun of him. You wanted to reel at the closeness for as long as you could. You couldn’t believe the fact that he was doing something so domestic— you almost couldn’t breathe. He tried to detangle some pieces with his fingers and then he tilted his head to the side to leave some shorter pieces out at the front. He didn’t know what he was doing and he probably was doing it badly, but he tried his best to be delicate. He’s never touched you like this before. Every time his fingers accidentally brushed against your ear or your neck he relearned just how soft you are. And every feeling of his skin almost made you shiver; like when someone whispers in your ear, it always feels so sensitive, traveling down until you feel it everywhere. His touches felt like that. You always end up feeling his everywhere. He’s entrancing, filling you with hearts and stars.

Finally, he ties the ribbon into a bow right at the top of the ponytail he created. He’s done. He lets go. They shapes and colors fade. Everything is cold again.

But to him, everything looked warm and vibrant. Looking at you was a sight so sweet and so gentle among all this dark wreckage of the world— it was precisely how he saw you: the way the ribbon now laced around your hair looked like an angelic embrace.

You turn to him, “Thank you, Daryl.” Your smile is so sincere, so lovely, there might as well be a halo and hearts invisibly drawn all around you.

A moment passes as you continue to look at each other and your heart jumps. He’s still looking directly at you. There are moments that he looks away and you can’t help it, the bashfulness creeps up on you two, but he’s giving you all his attention; it feels great. You decide to take the chance, you can't help yourself, you hug him, you have to. It has been so long since someone gave you something. So long since someone thought of you so specifically and intimately.

He’s caught off guard, his hands don’t wrap around you until a few seconds later, but when they do, they are sure, and tight, more sure of it than you surprisingly.

You breathe him in, giggling again, “I’m surprised you smell this good.”

“Fuck you.” It makes you laugh just a bit louder, it’s the nicest ‘fuck you,’ you’ve ever heard. Its tone has a hint of sincerity in tandem with humor in just the same way you delivered your line. He shakes his head, “You’re silly.”

He lets you go and you turn away, but it’s only just a little. He watches how the ribbon lays right where he put it again, seeing the side of your face light up with your rosy smile as you sway your head. You’re trying to not make it obvious that you want to feel the wag of the bow and your hair back there so you do it slowly, it just feels so cool and so pretty. You liked it so much. You didn’t even know what it looked like yet, but it already made you feel more like yourself. Like a part of you that had left before this world began— it fit well like a missing piece finally snapping into place. It was your unique touch and he found it for you. He did it for you. Just for you.

For me, you repeated it in your mind, he found it just for me.

Trinket No. 2: The Lesson ō͡≡o˞̶ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Turnpikes, Gunshots, and Dreams

You had asked and asked for weeks with no let up. It made you start getting creative with your pleas: “You know, Daryl, we really should be teaching each other our skills,” you had insisted, sarcasm lining your voice. No one else in the group knew how to ride yet they were doing just fine, but you were incessant, “You never know what kind of situation we’ll be in where we might need it… I could die,” your hands raise as your voice does, “and your bike could be my only escape but I wouldn’t even know how to ride it!”

He would always just stare at you blankly, ignoring you, especially when you got dramatic like this right before you two were leaving. “Get on or stay,” he would say, “go help Rosita or somethin’.”

You’d grit your teeth and get on regardless.

But then one day, one lucky, lucky day for you— it was your earnest approach, and your silly smile, and sun-filled eyes that got the best of him as they looked up to meet his darker ones. “Please,” you said, stretching out the word, it was just as cheesy as your smile. He looked back at you from his front seat as you continued, “I just want to feel capable and- free… I don’t know,” but you did, you meant it and felt it from deep inside you. “To know I have the option I wanted to… I… I didn’t really have those before.”

He was still for a moment and then he nodded, restarting the ignition. You guessed that was another no until you started to ride past the walkers that lined the outer gate. “An hour,” he said, his eyes forward as the trees became a blur to both of you, “then we gotta get work done.” You wrapped your arms around him tightly, you only used to cup his waist or hold his shoulders, but you felt fearless today, head leaning against his back and neck, arms hugging around his torso. He finally said yes.

As time went by, you had gotten comfortable with completing your drills. You learned the controls, how to shift gears, how to waddle and power walk with the bike, operate the clutch, throttle, and lift your feet up, riding on a straight path all by yourself. Turns were still hard though, and the fact that Daryl always insisted you think about the worst-case scenario wasn’t the greatest either. He’d look you dead in the eye, his voice clear and unrestrained from his usual grovels as he said, “If a herd is comin’, or people are shooting, or if there’s something tryin’ to crash into you, you need to think about how you’re going down. Decide on what won’t fuck you up completely, then do it. ” He always got way too close to your face without realizing it in those moments, his finger almost crashing into your nose as he vigorously pointed to get the idea across.

“If something goes down, I’m not arguing,” you say. “You'll be in front.” You meant it, your voice was quiet, you understood.

But really, you didn’t: “If something go down, either of us should be able to do it.” He paused to make sure you got it this time, “That's the point.”

As if you didn’t already sense it, this was the first time you absolutely understood that Daryl was serious when he decided to do anything. Full commitment. Start to finish. You said you wanted to learn, that you wanted to be capable, then that’s exactly what he was going to teach you. You would take it seriously too.

Soon enough, Daryl allowed you to ride out of the gates of Alexandria first instead of switching off after you got a few miles out. You were getting better. So much so that today would be a different day, he explained. Daryl wanted you to ride to the Hilltop. This would be the longest distance you’ve ever rode. A whole 23 miles. But before you guys got there he would steer you in the direction of a turnpike: he wanted to practice speed, and most crucially for you, right and left turning.

His weapons and guns were strapped to his lower body, some on his thigh holster, and a machine gun over his back, all just in case, and his hold on your waist was fixed as you rode. It made you feel like a child and such a little teenager all in one with how excited you would get. Not only were you becoming skilled at riding a whole fucking motorcycle, but you were the one he was holding onto this time and it was the longest amount of time he was holding you at that.

As you reached the turnpike, he guided you around the semi-circular road. Continuing on, you saw a few walkers in the distance. He told you to speed up, there was enough space on the road and there were only four of them, they were far away anyway.

You looked back at your surroundings, other than those four, the road was pretty clear other than some broken down, discarded cars. This accidentally became a lesson on tight turns and swerving too.

Some of your turns were abrupt as you tried to go around the cars, it made you nervous. You knew it was okay not to be perfect, but it was still a little stressful to make mistakes when a master was watching behind you.

“Relax,” he’d tell you, sometimes putting his hands over yours on the handles and helping you out. “You got it.”

You went on and as the walkers approached closer, an idea arose. It was probably irresponsible, but you joked anyway, “Daryl,” you whisper-shouted with fake suspense, getting his attention. “We’re on a mission. Got to take those guys out before they get to Rick!”

He chuckled a bit, shaking his head. He leaned in closer as you leaned forward, gaining speed. One arm wrapped around your hips in totality, hand placed firmly there as the other reached for his gun, extending his arm out as you two got closer to the walkers. You two turned to face them as Daryl pulled the trigger: one shot each, straight in the head, “Got ‘em.”

You gasp, your laughter sounding so wild and fun and unrestrained in a way it hasn’t been heard by either of you before. “Is it bad if I say I hope we find another one?!”

“No, that was fun,” he agrees understatedly, trying not to fully give in. You couldn’t even see his face, yet he was trying to hide a smile.

And you were too. It was all too much honestly. You were balancing riding and having Daryl right behind you, holding onto you, trusting you to do something he’s never let anyone else do before; and you just proved you both could probably kill it in a high stakes situation. Well, maybe not, this was very, very low stakes, but still, it made you believe. You decided to ride the high, quite literally as you kept going, shouting back: “Imagine us in battle?”

Oh, wait— your grin fades slightly, you immediately regretted it after you said it. The point of this life was to try to find a way to live, not always fighting to survive. Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say.

The silence makes you feel like an idiot until Daryl speaks up, both hands now on your hips, thumbs pressing into your back, “If we were in battle,” he almost whispers into your ear, “we’d be their worst fuckin’ nightmare.”

You feel your smile practically reaching your ears. “We’re a team,” you say, the humor coming back to your face now, the shine in your teeth reflecting the sun as it always does. “A dream team.”

A dream… Maybe. You definitely were at least, but that is a thought he doesn’t let come to the forefront. He let it go. But it was true… something about you felt unreal to him. The way you wanted to be around him this much, so interested in the things he does; he still didn’t get it, it almost felt unbelievable. He wondered when it was going to stop. When he would wake up. He didn’t want to wake up. The thought grows, he can’t avoid it now: you are a dream. One he didn’t even know he wanted.

Trinket No. 3: Lucky Charms ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Flying Away With You

You gasp excitedly, “The Eiffel Tower!” You hold the bottom up to the light as he still holds the top. “Nice,” you say with bright eyes, “I found the Statue of Liberty in the mom’s jewelry box and a few others that weren’t on her charm bracelet.” You showed him the mother’s sterling silver and he showed you the daughter’s that he found. “I guess they were traveling family… or wanted to be.” You feel a heaviness behind your eyes after you say it.

You loved collecting these charms, but sometimes there was a sadness to it. Like you were collecting other people's tokens, little pieces of their personalities and their stories, keeping it as your own. It almost felt invasive. But it was something that you and Daryl did together. You liked that. Another thing that made you feel close to him… Maybe this was like keeping their memory alive? You may not have known them or know what happened to them, but you were giving something that they loved new life. The charms did make you happy, after all. Especially because it was Daryl that got you into it. But it was also you who got Daryl into it too.

You both can recall the first day it all started: He found it incredulous that you cared more about a little piece of jewelry you saw in the dirt rather than the bigger thing that was right by it: the deer Daryl just shot, the one that you two had been tracking for what felt like hours.

His face twisted up to you as he collected his bolt from the body, “We just caught a deer, and you’re lookin’ at that?”

“We just caught a deer for the first time in months and this was right by them… it’s literally good luck!” You held the gold sun charm to the actual light source it was designed after, “Look at us… Lucky charm, dream team, remember?” Your smile was just so wide after you said it, he let his slight irritation go. It was easy actually, he was always taken aback by that smile. It still wasn’t that long ago when he thought you weren’t the type to do so, like him most of the time. He had only seen you sad, but now, I’m Alexandria, you just glowed. Eyes and an essence as bright as the sun, and that smile, all teeth and just as pearly as the moon… The charm was perfect for you and it needed its match. Maybe a star too. He would find it.

He still remembers where he found those. He came across a silver crescent moon necklace discarded on the floor of a girl’s bedroom. It was simplistic, like one or those expensive necklaces that shouldn’t even be that expensive because of how small it was, but it was a perfect charm size, and it shined, there were no scratches. In the other girl’s room in the house, probably the younger sister, there was a charm bracelet on the desk. It was kind of childish and clunky, like one you could get in those supermarket toy vending machines. He took the first charm he touched and removed the clasp from it for your moon. It was hard to do it with his fingers on something so small and dainty but after a few tries, he managed.

As for the star, he found it on a walker in the woods. It was a little girl, it almost made him feel bad to do it because he knew you’d feel bad about it, but her and what looked like her mom and dad went straight for the two rabbits he just caught, ripping their skin, eating them. He shot them all in the head. The thud of their bodies to the ground only seconds apart. Oh well, were his thoughts, their fault for messing with his catch. After that is when he noticed the gold charm bracelet on the kid’s wrist. It was different from the one he saw last time in that other girl’s room, it wasn’t a fake toy, it was more refined. Maybe they were a well-off family.

There was a star was at the center. It’s all he wanted, but he thought you might want to see the others she had too— they were all nature themed, he kind of liked it— so he tried to take the bracelet off but it wasn’t working. The thing fit her wrist perfectly and the bracelet clasp was stuck so, in typical Daryl fashion… he just chopped the girl's hand off.

Kind of gross, and he would definitely have to keep the red off of everything now, but the star charm was gold, it would match the sun charm and the moon would stand out at the center, he assumed. He thought it could look nice… and beggars can’t be choosers in the apocalypse anyway. After he took the bracelet he discarded of the hand, tossing it to the ground like it was nothing. (He’d leave that part out if you asked for the story later). Now that he had the bracelet, you would also have a gold owl, a bunny, a bird, and if it couldn’t get any better, there was a deer charm too. That’s what was most important about the account anyway.

That night, Daryl crawled into your bedroom from the window while you were asleep. He placed the star and moon on top of your journal that was on your desk, and after that, he left. That was it. He just wanted to surprise you. He’d give you the rest later. You only realized he did it and how he did it when you closed your window that was slightly left open the next day. There were scuff marks on the window sill. They were from his shoes.

After that it became a game; a little side quest. Like how people would count red versus blue cars or shout ‘punch buggy,’ when they are out with their family. An activity that took you out of your boredom, or really, for you in the apocalypse, it was an activity that made you feel oddly sane again, since you always dealt with the insane everyday anyway.

That was what today was about. At least on the down low; at least after you found anything of value for the community; at least to you two. You guys had found what seemed to be a wealthy neighborhood a while ago, when you passed that turnpike. The houses there were so big there, but all you had was his bike at the time, nowhere to put supplies and you were expected at the Hilltop, you couldn’t stay and look around.

It had been a little while after that and you had a plan now, a few Alexandrians backing you up with cars. You two finished your portion of houses to sweep and now you were waiting on the others, sitting in one of the house porches. That’s why you both were showing each other your finds from this place and the others.

You continued to hold the Eiffel Tower charm in your hand, “Maybe we should go to Paris…” Your voice was wistfully, then a quietness lingered in the air, it made you laugh awkwardly, releasing the tension. Your suggestion was one of those silly things you say where you mean it, but you pretend it’s just a joke, knowing it won’t have any outcome. “All of us, I mean,” you do mean it, but at the same time you we’re just talking about him right now. “That would be nice.”

“What would I do in Paris?” He asks it while he fixes his weapons, you’re sitting back, looking at the trees. He thought it was a ridiculous idea. He’s never been anywhere. He hadn’t even been to Virginia or D.C. before this and there’s no way he could go anywhere else now.

“Well I guess we’re never going to know unless we find out… you can eat!” You laugh, “You do like eating.”

He snorts, “Who knows if there’s food left there.”

Pessimist. “Again— we’re never going to know unless we find out.”

“Have fun tryin’ to become a pilot,” his drawl comes out strong on that last word. “Or a plane.”

“I guess that’s the next charm we need to find, an airplane or a captain’s hat. I am a pilot… or I can pretend to be.” There’s that smile again, “I can do anything.”

“Bet you could.” He meant it.

You nod, your next words making you laugh at yourself, “I’m Barbie.”

“Better,” he mutters. You can barely hear it. You don’t know if it was real so you say nothing until—

“We’re going to travel the world some day, Daryl.” You say it so surely, breaking the moment of silence, “We’ll find a way.” As long as we’re together. As long as you want me.

That’s all you wanted, truly. Even if this world really couldn’t take you to Paris, or New York, or anywhere out of Virginia. All you wanted was him. All you wished and hoped for is that he wanted you… but did he? You still weren’t sure.

Trinket No. 4: The Flower and the Photograph 𓇢𓆸

Back Pocket Memory

You two were almost near Alexandria, only a few miles left to drive. “Do you think we can just sit down over there before heading back?”

Daryl continued driving, “Dangerous to leave a good van with supplies just put.”

You pointed to the clearing you were referring to ahead. The trees were sparse in that area, it might have been a meadow, but you didn’t know the difference. There was a little pond near the center. “Can we just drive the car a little bit closer? Just for a few minutes?” You look up at him, your eyes doing that little sunshine thing as it always does, “I just want to sit in the grass,” you say, putting your hand out the window, feeling the wind through your fingers, “the sky feels so nice today.”

He huffs, but does as you ask. “Get out,” he says, gesturing to you to walk over to the area you pointed at. “Pick your spot.” You run over and he follows. You have this wonder about you, it was almost childlike, but not childish, more— sweet, innocent perhaps.

You jump down to the ground and cross your legs on the grass, looking out at the pond. Daryl parks the car a little behind you and comes out to sit on the hood. His legs spread, knees almost to his chest, his elbows lay on there, arms extended.

You look at him, “You’re really not going to sit down?”

“If someone comes up behind us and steals our shit then that’s gonna be your fault.”

Fair. You gesture at him to move over and you sit to his side on top of the car.

As you settle, you close your eyes and you raise your face to the sky. Feeling the warmth of the sun on your closed eyelids. There was a majestic kind of wind that blew in the air today. It made everything look effortless, especially Daryl.

His ever-so disheveled hair had pieces flying on both sides, brushing some parts out of his face, and pushing others in. As always, it was just enough that they didn’t completely cover his eyes. How does that always happen? Thinking about it makes you giggle lightly as you look at him.

“What?” He asks, becoming a little self conscious.

You shake your head, your eyes looking at him kindly, hoping to ease his nerves. “You just look nice.” Your voice was silvery and sweet as you said it.

You get up and skip toward the pond, picking a flower and coming back to him. You sit down and try to put the tiniest white flower behind his ear.

“What’re you doin’?” He tries to swat it away, playfully hitting your other hand that tries to hold him in place and he takes the flower from your other hand. He successfully places it behind your ear instead. “Better,” he says.

As he looks at you, he notices light pieces of your hair frizzing up at the top from the wind, other pieces at the bottom still moving around slightly. It didn’t look bad, to him, your hair looks more like that invisible halo he sees when you’re around, and with that flower in your hair, you look like a true angel or maybe even a fairy with all the greenery surrounding you. You’re just lovely.

You give him a closed smile, your head falling to your knees. “Pretty day,” you sigh contentedly.

Pretty girl.

Handsome man.

Then a thought comes. Your smile turning to a grin.

“What?” He asks sharply. He knows the look you get when you’re up to something at this point.

You grab your backpack from your side, slowly bringing out the polaroid camera you found earlier today.

“No,” he pushes the side of your face, already detesting the idea.

“Daryl,” you whine.

He says it straight this time, “No.”

“But…” your eyes trail his face for a moment before continuing, “you just look… I don’t know. It’s like I said, you just look so- nice.” There’s other words you could use, but you don’t, not yet. “I just think it would be nice to have a nice picture. All we take pictures of is the houses and work. It’s boring and a waste.” You pause, “Daryl… Please?”

He rolls his eyes, grumbling, “You first.”

He’s glad no one was around when these moments happened. Someone might think you had him completely whipped. His brother definitely would think so if he was still around. Daryl was almost embarrassed of himself because of it. But you don’t ask for much. Other than the bike thing, you really didn’t. You trusted him and you were patient. You went along with his plans and you could sit for long car rides and periods of time in quietness if that’s what he wanted. You never pushed him to tell you his story. He only knew a part of yours circumstantially and he didn’t push you for more details after he brought you home, so you did the same. He could feel you wanted to ask more questions, but he also saw you stop yourself, move on, you were creative with your conversation topics: you asked him about what the best thing he hunted was, or what his favorite things were about your friends. You were so gentle with him. Maybe you could get him to do almost anything you wanted without you even knowing, but it was worth it for someone like you.

You look down shyly, “I’m not good at pictures,” you admit.

“You’ll look fine.” He wanted to say something else, but he didn’t. You’re so alike, more than you know.

He tilted your jaw with his thumb. It was too quick for you to melt into it but the feeling lingered, it made you buzz with excitement and it was easy to smile after that. He looked through the viewfinder, seeing you do that pretty sunny smile, matching the yellow bud of the white flower. He clicked the button. Beautiful.

You snatch the camera instantly, “Your turn!” You were too eager but you didn’t care.

You take the flower from your hair and bring it toward him. He sucks his teeth, saying your name as he does so, “No!”

“Yes, Daryl!” You push it over his ear, but not before he pushes you knee, just to do it. He didn’t even know why he was fighting, he knew he was letting you have your way right now. “Look,” you sound like a school teacher, “very nice.”

You even out some of the frizzy parts at the top of his head, the light wind was still blowing through it, it was futile so you left it, he looked great anyway. A perfectly imperfect mess.

He crossed his arms over his knees and looked into your eyes. You held the camera to your face and snapped the shot. “Beautiful.”

You stare at him for a moment longer. If anyone else was here that could see those all to familiar hearts and stars around you and in your eyes, it was so hard to hide. “I’m keeping this,” you said, placing the polaroid delicately in your back pocket. He said nothing, he wasn’t going yo let you know he cared about a dumb picture. “Okay, thank you for indulging me,” you start, taking the flower from his ear, “let’s go home.”

Later that night, past one am, he came through your window again. But this time you saw. Your head was almost covered by the blankets, your eyes slightly open. He didn’t even look in your direction. Maybe he wanted to be quick.

You saw him go into your bookbag. It was hanging on your desk chair. He took the picture out. He wanted it. He wanted your picture. The one that matched yours of him. Maybe this was something. Maybe he did want you.

You closed your eyes quickly when he started to turn around, then watched as quietly as you could as he neared the window, starting to climb out but not before he placed the polaroid in his back pocket, just like you did. Now you both had a piece of each other, forever.

Trinket No. 5: The Music Player and the Wish on an Eyelash ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻ ♬♪

Never Fade Away

It’s official, in all the ways it possibly could be: Alexandria was truly your home. More time has passed: you live in a house, you have a job, you have family— it’s your friends. In some ways things are better than they have ever been… yet you still think about the night and the dark just as much as you used to. You tried to hide it, you wanted to be grateful and you were. But the things that used to happen to you, and the people that hurt you… they still lingered like ghosts when night came.

In the closed and guarded walls of your community, you hoped night could be a time and place that was peaceful. But thoughts of an attack, thoughts of losing your first real home, it left you apprehensive and paranoid of what could happen in your vulnerable state. And when you close your eyes, sometimes the past visits your dreams. It all felt inescapable.

It makes you so fearful that despite keeping your window’s curtain open, a battery-powered lantern resides practically glued to your nightstand— always on when the sun goes down. You knew it was a waste of a resource, but at least you kept it on low, at least when you woke up in the middle of the night, closer to morning really, you remembered to turn it off— the sun making its way back around soothed your nerves; it was always that initial getting-to-sleep part that made you need it anyway.

And of course, you’ve tried to calm yourself down at night using different methods to see what stuck: You do read— your neighbors were always kind enough to lend whatever books were in their houses— and you did daydream— letting your mind wander to happier, more wondrous places when you wanted to escape— and it did help sometimes, but on other nights, it wasn’t enough.

You miss watching tv in bed. There was something about the buzz of the box, and the voices of humor and romance and relatability that miraculously took you away, and helped you stop thinking, even allowed you to drift to sleep… it was a luxury you didn’t have anymore, and not only did you not have that luxury, you also had an overabundance of dead or deadly issues to worry about. It all haunted you.

You sat with your back against the headboard of the bed. You’ve yet to put on any night clothes. You had already read the next chapter of your book, and you would have read another, and possibly another after that, but tonight you knew it would have just kept you awake as something to do instead of worrying about sleep. You were tired though. That’s why you stopped, but you also weren’t ready for trying to catch sleep that wouldn’t come.

Part of you hoped Daryl would stop by, but he doesn’t always, and he probably won’t tonight. Some nights he’s out until the next day or the next week, who knows how far he went this time, you didn’t go with him and he left too quickly to ask. It had been a few days since you saw him last.

When he was here though, he did start to make it a habit of stopping by to see you, especially when it was time for Alexandrians to settle into their homes for the night. He stopped being so quiet through the window and only dropping things off. He would start coming through the door. It was just a light chat for a couple of minutes at first, then there were the times when he stayed an hour or two. He always sat on your floor, by the window, or by the door. You never understood why until you insisted he sit in your chair by the closet. It was only until a few more visits later you realized the chair's light color becoming just a bit visibly darker. It was soot and hard work and the air, he worked outside all day and usually visited before he called it a night. You made sure not to mention it, you just cleaned it yourself. No need for him to feel embarrassed.

Besides, you didn't mind, anytime he walked through your door or jumped in from your window, that was his chair, at least that’s what you called it in your head. You liked that. You liked that after he brought you home he didn’t move on and let you be. In his defense, you didn’t let him be either, but he could have always distanced himself if he wanted to, told you no, but he didn’t.

You two have gotten so close quite quickly. You both felt it and you didn’t know why, but at the same time, you did. It was something left unspoken, even in your mind, always on the side toward the back of your brain. That part knew you could fall in love with him, but why admit it to yourself if the other person might not feel the same? You were still feeling that way. Despite all the moments you’ve shared thus far. His silent nature was endearing at times, but it could also be a very confusing gripe of yours. There were moments when you knew exactly where his mind was, but there were other times when you simply did not. Especially when it came to you. Daryl always gave you just enough, and maybe tonight, it would be nothing at all.

At least that’s where your thoughts resided until you heard the creak of your door slowly pushing inward.

Daryl’s hand holds the doorknob, meeting your eyes as he steps in further. Your window casting just enough light on his face.

“Hi,” you meant to be clever, ask him if he knew how to knock, but only wistful, subdued surprise is all that came out in your one-word greeting.

“Hey,” he replied, it almost seemed like he was surprised too, you couldn’t tell it from his voice but from the way he cut the word short. “Didn’t know if you were awake.”

You laugh somberly, “You didn’t?”

“Didn’t see you in the window.”

His voice is low, your house is quiet, and people are asleep in the other rooms. You match his tone with your own quietness, “Right,” you say. The window did hit the bed end, not the top. But he knew you were a late sleeper. He even came and sat with you for longer the night before he left because you had told him about it— he knew, he had to, but you didn’t question it.

“Um,” he’s looking down, “Was just gonna leave somethin’.”

He starts to walk to your nightstand but you stop him, your hand reaching out, not touching him, but it’s just enough to pull him to your gaze. “You’re gonna leave without showing me?”

Daryl positions himself toward you and you sit up. Gingerly, he takes something small out of his front pocket, it was covered in one of his bandanas. He looks at it for a moment, almost unsure before placing it on the bed, right in front of your lap.

It was an MP3 player. One of those slim rectangular ones with a digital rectangular screen to match and a big circular button with the controls covering the bottom half. There were some small scratches in the screen corners and some dent marks in the back. The arrow buttons were starting to fade too, but he handed you some headphones out of his back pocket as you continued to examine it, it must have worked.

You look up at him, eyes wide, shining just a bit in the dark just like the little silver miracle that was in your hands. You remembered having one of these, the thought made your lips curl, a light open-mouthed smile forming as the nostalgia set in.

You move closer to the edge of the bed, the sky illuminating you more in your semi-darkened room. You place your hand on the other end of your bed, “Come,” you say as your tap the spot. He’s hesitant before he finally accepts the invitation, sitting down. You would have insisted anyway if he didn’t.

You flip the switch on the side then and the music starts instantly in your right ear where you set one of the earbuds in. You tried to put the left on him, but he shook his hand, “You listen.” You let him be for now, you were too excited to see what the previous owner was into.

The songs are scattered from different decades, but what you notice the most of as you skip through were various 90s and 2000s rock, pop-punk, pop, and the like. There was Nirvana, but also Fiona Apple to Blondie, and even Elvis. It was a little all over the place, really. This definitely had to be a teen’s in the early or late aughts. You thought maybe Carl would like this. There was even some stuff that you were sure had to have come out in 2010, right before the apocalypse began… Another kid who wouldn’t get to spend the rest of their teens, or young adulthood, or adult life like they were supposed to, like you were supposed to.

Having these thoughts while Aerosmith’s Fly Away From Here played was not helping, especially since it made you think of your lost family, and those from your found family that were gone now too, so you decided to skip, but the button seemed to fidget. You tried again, then again, even touching the screen. You accidentally made the shuffle icon come onto the bottom corner.

“Don’t like Aerosmith?” Daryl read it on the screen, but he also recalled the melody, even from just the soft buzz produced by the headphones, the volume was accidentally turned all the way up, you set it down.

You give him a light smile, “Aerosmith’s fine. Just have to be a little more careful with this, I guess.”

You continue to press forward to see what else is there until you shriek, color coming back to your face as you shake your head at the memory emerging as you listen. “Oh my god, my sibling used to love this song when we were younger.” It was Avril Lavigne’s Girlfriend that was playing. “We used to put on the radio or look up the music videos on the tv and dance. They loved doing that…” Your voice was soft, both sweet yet desolate, “I knew all the popular songs and all their favorite songs whether I liked it or not.” You giggle, “I can lie this one is fun.”

You knew Daryl would probably scoff, but you lightly place the left earbud near his ear for a few seconds so he can hear what you’re talking about.

“Definitely a chick’s.”

“‘Chick’?” It was funny, and you did laugh, but you still decide to protest, “It’s just one song and…I don’t know, I think it’s a pretty eclectic mix of artists…” You continue to press forward as you ask, “Were there kids? Or- did there used to be?”

“Based on the rooms.” He nods, “Boy and a girl.”

“Hm,” you say curiously, flipping through the songs: the next one that played was by Linkin Park, then Alanis Morisette… you wondered if the kids shared it or shared interests. Suddenly, the player starts Lit’s My Own Worst Enemy. Your eyes are starlit as you gasp, “Oh, this one is so you.”

This time you fully push the headphone into his left ear, turning the volume all the way up as the first verse plays, his face is fixed, “This ain’t me.” There is silence as the music continues and he scorns, “You think I used to just get drunk all the time?”

“Daryl,” your laugh is light, “no.” It was a ridiculous thought and he should know it, but nonetheless, you console him, “Of course not.” Your hand reaches forward onto the bed, nearing where his own resided, but not touching. It saddened you to see Daryl always react like this to small things. He was never judgmental, but he was always so quick to believe others would judge him. “Maybe not that part,” you smile, slightly mischievous, “but- okay, this-” you sing-speak along lightly, remembering to stay quiet, “it’s no surprise to me I am my own worst enemy, cause every now and then I kick the living shit out of me- that's you! That's literally you.”

He shakes his head, ‘Whatever,’ the gesture says with his grunt.

“No, you’re actually a little bit self-deprecating, I think. At least internally.” You continue, “Oh, and this part— I didn't mean to call you that- you see?” You say, humor still in your smile, “That part is you.”

Daryl gives you another small grunt indicating ‘no’ as he shakes his head again. “If I say something to someone, then I mean it. Wouldn’t say it if I don’t.”

“Well, you also mean a lot of what you don’t say,” your eyes trail to the side. You knew that didn’t make sense, but it did to you. There was a part of you that was still in denial of your feelings or if there was a possibility he had any for you either. You’d never see him talk or treat anyone in a more than friendly way– or whatever Daryl’s version of friendly was. You wanted to protect yourself by not admitting you adored him, even to yourself, but really, you knew. And there was the way he kept giving you these things, these little moments: the ribbon, the picture, the charms… It made that smaller part of you that believed something was there, glow and warm inside your heart.

You look at him, there was a sorrow placed on both of your faces, but he just looks at his hand that is placed on the bed through his hair, the one that's so close to yours. “You really don’t think there is anything you don’t regret saying?” Another song passes, you didn’t recall it, but then the playlist shifts to something slower, it’s the Beatles. “I just think you keep a lot inside… It’s okay though. But it is just something I notice.”

Normally, a comment like this or something similar to it would sound trite and judgmental, there are a lot of things people don’t talk about now, but you say it with understanding, a little sad because you can’t help it, but your voice is kind, like gentle fingers through his hair, evening it out; a voice that shows you care, you see him and respect him even if you do want more. “It’s okay,” you whisper as Paul McCartney’s voice sings softly, “I’m not half the man I used to be, there’s a shadow hanging over me.” It felt like he was speaking right to Daryl as he continued to look away from you.

It’s moments like this where he wants to say it all. The sad stories from his childhood that he has never been able to tell anyone before. Stories about his brother… the bad, yes, but even some of the good ones. He knows he could talk to Rick if he wanted, or Carol. His group was loyal to him as much as he was to them– he knew that, but they probably wouldn’t care to hear about Merle, it would probably make them angry to be reminded of all the bad things he’s done to them. He wouldn’t blame them. In many ways, and for more reasons then all of them, he will always be angry at his brother too. This is why he didn’t even like to let himself think about the past, but in other ways, it still sucked. It makes him feel alone, like talking about himself or his brother or the past was just a gateway to hurting himself and scaring others, scaring you.

You wipe him away from those thoughts even though you didn’t even hear them, your voice pulling him out of his trance, “Things are harder now, Daryl, but I think you’ve only gotten better.” There is still so much you don’t know, but nonetheless, it’s like you can read his mind.

“This is the only me you know.”

“And even then I don’t think you’re the man I met when you found me… We’re definitely not the same people.” Your hand is just inches from his fingertips now. “We all have things to improve on, even if we think we’ve already grown up. I think that’s a part of growing up actually… just realizing that you never do, or at least not entirely. You’re always going to continue to grow.” Your words linger in the air as the next song starts, it’s Paramore, it’s The Only Exception— something still laced with melancholia but it has a sweet gentleness to it. It's just like you. This is how you were trying to be with your words. “It’s better if you allow it though, or work toward it instead of against it, I think.” You laugh at yourself then, “But I'm far from perfect so I should really stop talking.” Blush creeps onto your cheeks, you’re hopeful the night’s light doesn’t show it too much.

He wishes he could tell you he thinks you’re perfect, or at least something close to it. At least for him. You truly were like an angel. Maybe Radiohead is on this too.

The chorus continues to play, leading to the song’s ending and his jaw tightens. It’s annoying that you were right, your words from before echo to him. They weren’t nonsensical, he did get it: he does mean the things he never says as much as the things he does, but no one will ever get to know. Not that everyone has to, but maybe for you, maybe just a little, maybe you can be the exception. And he can tell that you’re trying to me: who carries around a silly little ribbon anyway? Or who keeps their window open almost every night, even on cold nights? He felt like he was failing you. Maybe these gifts and these small moments weren't enough. Maybe they were just trinkets; meaningless, giving you false hope for a love he couldn’t provide.

You both hear the outro, “Oh, and I’m on my way to believing,” and his heart pangs at that. Maybe he doesn’t have to fail, maybe he can try, at least right now, “It’s just…” he speaks up, his voice clears, “It made me think of you when I saw it.” He was talking about the mp3, “That’s why I brought it back… You’re always humming under your breath. Now you can stop annoying me with the same old thing.”

Your eyes roll, but you aren’t mad, in fact, you can't help that it makes you smile. “Oh, okay, Daryl,” you say through quiet bits of laughter.

“Also thought it could help you sleep… I dunno.”

You nod intently at his words, “Thank you,” and that wistfulness in your voice returns. “That's really kind.”

He nods back. He’s so gruff and straight-faced all the time, but was it bad to say that there were moments when you can't help but see him as adorable? He was always trying not to meet your gaze through his hair, and it was always messy like a kid’s, just like when you took that photograph.

Muse’s Starlight starts playing as you brush some of the hair out of his face. It's an awkward transition, but it's what you get from accidentally pressing shuffle so many times. In the end, though, the words make it seem perfect for the moment. The singer spoke of desire and escape, about missing loved ones and wanting to keep someone special, someone that's like starlight, close by. You understood that. He did too.

You giggle lightly, “Daryl, you- you have something…” You point at your face in reflection of his.

“What?” He wipes his nose.

“No, it's- it’s here,” you say, taking your finger to lightly catch the eyelash that threatened to slip away from his face and onto the bed. “Make a wish,” you whisper. Your face is nothing short of innocence and wonder.

His snorts, “I’m not doin’ that.”

“Daryl,” you eyes widened with apparent prodding and pleading annoyance, but your words still have a sense of amusement to them, “I think we need all the luck we can get.” Your head tilts as you say through your smiling teeth, “I’ll do it with you…?”

“Fine.” He can’t help that your squeal makes his lips curl but he’s trying to hide it.

“You have to really do it.” You turn the music down, it's in the background now. Your usual sun-filled eyes are currently wide like the moon as you look into his, coming closer to his face.

He nods, “Okay.”

“Promise?” You sing.

“Promise.” He meant it, he even closed his eyes before you to prove it.

You closed your eyes too, “Okay, I’m trusting you.” Squeezing them tightly, you whisper, “Think about what you want, and then I'm going to count to three and we blow.”

Instantly, your heart foolishly thinks of Daryl. You know you could be thinking about the safety of your group, the stability of Alexandria, or hoping that the threat everyone feels coming subsides into nothingness, but all your thoughts are just of him. It makes you feel like a silly little girl, waiting for that big romantic confession of love that you dream about, the one that will probably never come.

I wish for you, you think. You can’t help it, you can’t say anything else, this is the only thing that’s true, I just wish to stay by your side, forever.

The song echoes your hopes too, I’ll never let you go if you promise not to fade away.

You agree, never fade away, please.

“Okay,” you say softly aloud, “1… 2… 3…” And then your wish flies into the air. You two stare at each other afterwards, eyes starry like the sky from your window.

You wished for each other.

Trinket No. 6: Scars, Marks, Tattoos, and Internal Wounds ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The Things I Only Trust You to Know

It’s another night. Another visit. It wasn’t intentional this time, but your curtains were drawn. They’re almost never drawn, at least not completely. The window was still open though, the night’s breeze ruffled them backwards. Daryl became concerned, so he climbed up, opening the window wider and pushing the curtains to the side to get through.

He saw you crying.

Hearing the thud of his boots stomp lightly to the ground triggered you to turn, body facing the closet as you were curled in your bed. You didn’t want him to see you. “I’m tired tonight, Daryl.” Your voice was low, you tried to keep in neutral. For the most part you were doing well, but it was still obvious you weren’t fine— he saw your face before you covered it.

He sat down on the edge of your bed, his legs hitting by your feet. He didn’t feel like asking if you were okay if you were going to lie and say no. “You can tell me to go if you want,” was all he said, rubbing your arm as he did and then let go. You starting sniffling involuntarily because of the touch. You realized you were holding in a breath, the shaky exhale came out louder than you wished it did. “I’m sorry,” your voice blubbering. You were embarrassed. You hadn’t done this in front of him since before he brought you home.

“Don’t gotta be.”

“I feel stupid,” you say under your breath. You’re still trying to hide your face.

“Stop.” He puts his hand over your body now, on the bed, and he faces you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head slowly, looking at him, “I don’t know how to say. I can’t-”

“Just say it,” he said calmly.

You felt heat rising from your throat, it was like the words were trying to come out, but it felt scary to do so, it made your teeth grind against each other. Your head shakes harder, “I don’t think I can.”

He brings a hand to your face and wipes some of your tears with his thumb, “What would you tell me?”

You would tell him to speak, that it’s okay, you both knew it. The thought makes you sit up in your bed, tears still running down your cheeks, but you were going to try.

“You’re just going to get annoyed,” you wipe some of your tears with your wrist, “think I’m dumb, like a little girl.”

“You’re not dumb,” he spoke over you before you finished.

You pause, you shake your head again. The words are on your tongue but you just feel so bad and so embarrassed to admit it. “Sometimes I just…” your voice hitches and your hands goes to your head, more tears fall, “it’s just one of those days, I guess.”

One of Daryl’s hands goes to your shoulder and your upper back, he pats you until it quickly becomes a soft, swaying motion.

Your voice doesn’t go above the lightest whisper as you try to start again, “Sometimes- I just look at myself and I-” a sob erupts from your throat and tears roll much quicker, “I know you’re going to think I’m stupid, but sometimes I just wonder if anyone could love me.” It doesn’t even feel good to finally admit it, but you continue, “I feel like there’s something wrong with me. Like maybe I’m not enough. Or I’ll never be.”

Daryl’s face heats up. How could you ever feel that way about yourself? How do you not see yourself as anything less than everything he’s seen in you since the day he met you? You’re not stupid. Never. He feels stupid for not seeing this in you. He feels stupid for it being so hard for him to tell you everything wonderful about yourself in the way you deserve.

He thinks for a moment, he wishes he was more poetic, but he wasn’t and there are still certain things he’s not ready to say. So he decides on something else as he calls your name, “You’re telling me you can’t see you’re a tough son of a bitch?” The phrase makes you laugh involuntarily through your tears, he always says it like it’s one word. “One that found a way to burn down a hospital and kill a bunch of dickheads in one go just to stay alive?” He huffs, “Prettiest arsonist I’ve seen.”

You gasped but it made you smile lightly, it was funny. “I’m not an arsonist! And it was only part of the building.”

“Coulda fool me.” He tilts his head, “But you’re also probably one of the best scavengers we got. And you’re a good friend.” His hand travels to your knee, “You’re really good at talkin’ to people… and to me.”

You try to let his words fill you up but there is still doubt. “I don’t feel like pretty and really good are the right words.”

“Then you’re wrong.”

You shake your head.

He doesn’t get it, “Well, what do you see that I’m not?”

Your heart beats ferociously, you don’t move, you’re hesitant, you don’t know if this is right, but there is a part of your that wants to. “Can I show you something?” You asked.

He nods.

It’s scary, but you decide to trust him, showing him the part of yourself you felt most ashamed of. The part of you that you thought was unloveable.

But he sees nothing shameful, nothing bad, he just holds onto it or another part of you, caressing you gently. “You’re perfect,” he says, shrugging as if his words aren’t a big deal, but he knows they are. This is the first time he doesn’t keep a thought like this in his head anymore. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

He turns his back on you now, and he takes a breath, sighing deeply. You’re confused until he sighs and starts to speak; “When you were with those guys— and I know it ain’t the same, but— I know what it’s like. For people to use you.” He swallows hard, “I don’t like myself all the time neither.”

Your eyes widen. He was taking off his shirt. The first thing you see are tattoos, until your eyes travel to the other side, you see what he meant; the scars. “My dad. He was a drunk and a loser and an asshole.” Daryl's voice hitched, you couldn’t tell if he was crying or not, but you had never heard him like this before. “He did it to my brother too, Merle. But then he just left when he was old enough. Didn’t even give a shit that our dad was gonna do it to me,” there was anger in his voice. “He said he didn’t know,” and then he chokes on his words, “but how can I believe that? Thought it’d just skip a generation? He never changed. Neither of ‘em.” You wanted to hold him, but you didn’t know if it was too soon. He was still speaking, “Then when I got old enough, I left too. Some time later I started drifting ‘round with Merle, like that was gonna be any better… Two fucked up kids doing nothin’ with their fucked up lives.” His face turned to the side, you saw his profile, his eyes were red, “That’s what I did before Rick… You all were going to do good things with your life and I was gonna be nothing.”

“Daryl…” you were crestfallen, “I’m so sorry.” You held his arm, stroking it softly. “But you weren’t going to be nothing.”

“Yes, I was.”

“There is no thinking about what could have been. This is how life is. Maybe this was always going to happen,” your voice falters as you say it. “You’re not nothing. You’ve become everything to so many people.”

He turns his face back around and you look at his back again. It was difficult to look at, you won’t lie. Your heart sunk low, like it was being squeezed and brought down to the pit of your stomach to know that someone put him through this. Someone who was supposed to love him. Another tear escaped your eye at of the thought.

“Daryl,” you stutter meekly, “Is it okay if I hold you?”

His nod is so faint you barely see it, but he doesn’t say anything else so you believe it is a yes.

Your fingers ghost over his back until you let the tips of them finally lay on his skin.

His eyes wince and squeeze as he shutters despite your fingers trailing so tenderly. Your palm is now flat on his back as you move downwards and back up again. You kiss near his shoulder, right on the tip of his highest tattoo and then you wrap your arms around him, under his arms over his waist, and he holds your hands there.

You stay there for a long while, you don’t have a recollection of time. The moment feels like forever, although it is sad and you wished you weren’t discussing the things you were to get here, you don’t want it to end. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met,” you tell him.

It’s quiet until he says, “No,” disagreeingly, “You’re not brave just because you go through some shit.”

“But you still are,” you insist. “This happened to you and you chose to be the person you are now despite it. You became someone invincible.” You pressed him against you tighter, “I’m proud of you. Every day.”

Finally he turns around and takes you in his arms, your head now resting over his shoulder as your chests touch, closing the gap. You lay down on the bed and he stays on top of you. One hand plays with your hair and you continue to caress his back.

“I really like your tattoos,” you whisper, almost a giggle in your voice. “They look really good on you.”

He smiles a little. He never takes off his shirt so people barely see all the ones he has. He liked that you liked them. “Thank you,” he says.

“Do you want more? If you could?” You also want to ask why he got the ones he did, but the crying has made you sleepy and him being on top of you is making your mind hazy. “I wish I could,” is all you add.

He looks at you, “Maybe that’s the next thing we find.” He was talking about a tattoo gun, “That’s the kind of junk people don’t need now, we’ll look.”

He plays with your hair again, both your smiles are so innocent and lazy, you two would knock out soon, but it was nice to talk about something that used to be mundane for a moment.

“What if we do it and it turns out bad?”

“We’re not gonna find it tomorrow.”

“Right,” you say, moving on. “You know… I remember I used to be so scared of that stuff— needles and blood. I can imagine wincing just thinking about a needle touching me at the doctor’s… But now, I think that’s a pain I’d actually prefer… Rather than the other things we’ve gone through… If there ever was a choice like that.”

He agrees, “If there was a choice, I’d be covered by now.”

You two laugh at that, letting go of each other. Your bodies are on your sides, parallel to one another as you lay down. You’re on the side that faces the window and Daryl’s back is to it. He sees the moonlight illuminate your face because of it, the glow makes you look enchanting.

He wonders if you would get one— a tattoo, or another one, of this: of the moon; of the night where you showed each other parts of your bodies you wanted to hide, thinking they were flaws; of the night where you accepted each other fully despite it. Where he laughed and felt happy even after he shared something so dark. He almost never laughs or feels happiness in its totality, but with you, he does. It happened right now as he’s looking at you.

You see his face glistening in tandem with the white light that shines on you, it’s darker, but it’s still there. You were wondering the same exact thing.

Your eyes feel heavy now. They slowly flutter shut, but you try to keep them open. You don’t want him to leave. But he sees that your face dozing off, you’re tired, your eyes keep trying to close and close fully. He quietly gets up to go, but you stop him. Holding onto his forearm, sliding down to his hand. “Just stay,” you murmur, “please,” it’s light and dream-like. So he does. He doesn’t want to let go of your hand. He doesn’t want to let go of you.

You both stay at your sides, your intertwined hands at the center. He continues to look at you and you smile softly as your body finally allows your eyes to close shut. You drift swiftly to sleep. And he stays awake for a while longer, fixed on you and your slowing breath until sleep finds him too.

Daryl being right there, and you being right next to him, made everything infinitely better.

Despite it being vague on details, feel free to skip around areas of this one if you are not comfortable with reading about the reader being imprisoned at the Sanctuary.

Trinkets No. 7 & 8: The Second Ribbon and the First Kiss ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ જ⁀➴ -`♥︎´-

Confessions From a Broken Bowman and a Battered Beaut

It had taken a long while for you and Daryl to talk again after you escaped the Sanctuary.

The last time he saw you was through your tears as Negan’s men threw him in a van, your eyes bloodshot, wanting to scream and plead. He felt it was his fault that he didn’t fight harder; he felt that it was his fault that you were in there for so long; felt it was his fault that you were taken there in the first place. He couldn’t save Glenn— a burden he still carried so deeply, even after talking to Maggie— and that led to not being able to save you. He felt like he left you, not knowing you would have been in the same place he was if he didn’t escape before you got there. But what choice did he have? He didn’t know. And he doesn’t even know if it’s a good or bad thing to admit that in a heart beat, he would take another day of torture, of abuse and pain, if it meant he was with you, and you could make it out together. One more day for him would have been worth your days only adding up to one hand if it could. It would have been better than just waiting for you on the other side. Having to hide just so Negan wouldn’t find him and kill him and more of his friends because of it.

And even worse, what if he threatened Daryl with you instead? Especially since you were still there, with him. That’s part of the reason why Daryl wanted to blow up the Sanctuary. It would have just been one side. Just enough to cause the chaos you needed to run away from your captures and back home. You were fast enough, he knows you are, and you must have known all the exits by now. He tried to convince himself of it. Rick told him it was a bad idea, dangerous to do that to the workers, and most importantly to you— it too many what ifs if it didn’t work out— but what else was he supposed to do? He needed you out, and the Saviors to be gone. It felt like the only choice.

But then, Daryl saw your face. You got out, you didn’t need another fire. It must have been their first attack against the Sanctuary that helped.

Your breathing was so heavy when you finally stopped, you were running so fast, there were patches of dirt all over you, sweat dripping from your neck. It must have been fate that he, Tara, Micchone, and Rosita were right there on the other side, ironically trying to go back to the place you just escaped from.

All their guns were pointed in your direction. They heard the gunshots, they heard someone running. They instantly dropped everything when they saw that it was you.

It felt like the world turned in its full rotation in seconds, coming into a halt all in this moment. The woods, the running, the chance encounter— him; it’s like you were brought right back to the start.

He was speechless, stunned in a way he didn’t expect, mouth agape and yours the same. You didn’t know what to say and he didn’t know how to apologize in the way he felt he should, so you both just stood there. Tears started to well in your eyes. All he did in the end was look down.

This exchange of stares happened only in a mere matter of seconds until Rosita brought you in for a hug, cursing leaving even though she knew you didn’t have a choice, being so happy you were back, but for you it felt agonizingly long.

And for Daryl, it all felt endlessly hopeless. The reality that his plan probably could, or most definitely would have killed you sunk in. He was stupid for thinking that it could work. And seeing you in that wife's dress? A black bow tied to the back of your head? It was unbearable. He hates that he found it hard to even look at you.

The two other women welcomed you back, Michonne even looked teary eyed. The sight made some of your own tears fall because of it. She took you by the shoulder and Rosita took your waist, guiding you to the trunk. Tara went back near Daryl, she wanted to ask if their new plan at the Sanctuary was still a go but waited when she noticed Rosita sent a glare Daryl’s way. It honestly did more to Tara than Daryl. He didn’t even bother meeting her face, he was already punching himself for his silence, for his inaction. He just got in the driver’s seat and took off.

After that, you watched him, waiting to see when his eyes would finally meet yours, but he tried to avoid them as much as he could. The only time he spoke to you was to ask if you were okay when Alexandria fell and you were all in the sewers, and when he entrusted you to take care of Judith as he guided everyone to the Hilltop afterwards.

This treatment was excruciating, but you said nothing. You didn’t feel like yelling at him, you just wanted him. And there was no time between when you came back to right now when you could speak alone anyway if you did want to yell. If you asked why he probably would just shoved you off and you’d get more sad and upset than you already were, or maybe you’d pester, demanding some kind of answer and he'd be the one that might yell… no reason to fight in front of people, especially since there are so many other things to worry about.

But you remember when you finally got to the Hilltop, and how you saw the way he embraced Carol almost right after he saw her. You weren’t upset about that specifically. You admired Carol, even if you didn’t get to know her that well yet. You knew they loved each other, you thought they had a beautiful relationship… It wasn’t that. It was the fact that you fought all the way to get back to your family, to him, and it felt like it was all just so he could act like a stranger again. He didn’t even say hello when he saw you, or ask how you got out, or that he missed you. Maybe he didn’t. That was the real reason you said nothing. The thought broke your heart.

You could at least say that Negan talked to you, and didn’t keep all his feelings inside– whether they were real or not, you were only half sure somtimes– but your time at the Sanctuary, becoming a soon-to-be-wife, it was a hardship only you endured. No one would understand the humor of that sick joke, and it especially wasn’t the time nor would it ever be when everyone hated him and wanted to kill him so desperately.

The next day came by, you all prepared for the Saviors to attack at Hilltop. You were on a break, sitting in the cellar. It was dark, but it helped relieve you from the incessant heat that beamed outside.

Daryl was looking for you. This happened to be the third place he went around. He had just spoke to Rick, apologized for their fight. He felt awful that it took until after Carl passed for them to talk about it, and that his passing made Rick start to believe all the killing might be the only option like Daryl believed before. He still wasn’t sure what he felt now. All he knew is he couldn’t let you two go on like this any longer. It was time to talk to you.

As he opened the cellar door he kept it slightly open, letting the light emanate through.

He sits down next to you, bringing his knees up as he usually does. You don’t bother looking at him. Maybe he would just ask you to do him a favor like last time.

There is silence for a moment. He doesn’t know where to begin. All he decides to say is, “You got Judith here safe, I made sure Rick knew. Thank you.”

“You’re the one who led us here.” Your voice says quietly.

“You helped chop a lot of those walkers down in the swap.”

You sigh, not answering him right away. “This isn’t a competition.”

“I know,” he mutters.

Silence is all that hangs in the air again. With each second that passes it makes your throat swell, bubbling up to your tongue and brain as it usually does until you’re trying to hold back tears.

Daryl was feeling similarly. All his words were caught in his throat too, wanting to be said out loud but he can’t, it’s like someone is squeezing and choking him right there. And he can see your teary eyes, it could almost make his eyes match.

He says your name low and slow, “Do you hate me?”

You’re stunned at the thought. Your words are hushed but vehement, “How could you ever think I’d hate you?”

“I left you-”

“You didn’t know.”

“I could’ve fought harder when they put me in that van, you grabbed onto me and I still let them take me—”

You speak in between his words, “Why are you acting like you had a choice?!”

“—I could’ve went back right after they told me that’s where you were. Not leave you! I coulda done that.”

You shake your head, your voice a sharp whisper, “If you tried either of those things you would have been dead. Everything would be worse and this probably still would have happened.”

“I could’ve done something,” is all he repeats. Quietness fills the space again. You’re never going to agree on this. He’s stuck on what happened and you’re upset about what’s happening.

You breathe in shakily. He’s still finding it hard to look and it hurts, it makes you sad and angry.

Your voice becomes stifled, almost weepingly as you ask, “Daryl… Why can’t you even look at me? Why have you barely talked to me since I came back?”

His voice raises strainingly, “Cause I left you.”

Your voice cries as your head shakes again slowly, “You didn’t leave me, they took me. You left me now.” That makes him turn. You see his eyes, they’re puffed and the whites of his eyes are a faint red, and yours are still watery. “It’s not your fault.”

The backs of your fingertips brush against his cheek, feeling the bristles of his beard and you go down further, continuing to shake your head sadly, moving back to your face to wipe your own tears.

“Did they put you in that cell? Take your stuff?”

“Only the first time I came there. And then the two other times I tried to escape. After that I was sent to sleep with the other girls.” Your voice is quiet, “I don’t think it was the same for me like it was for you.”

“Did he,” he almost can't say it, “Did he hurt you?”

You knew what he meant. All you could do was shake your head slowly, it was a gesture of no.

He nods, his mouth fixed. Some relief is finally released from that, but this doesn’t change anything. They still took you away, they probably put you in a cell, they don’t deserve mercy. He wants to tell you that you all are still going to kill Negan and how he still plans on killing Dwight, but he holds his tongue. This wasn’t what being with you was about right now. His mind races with plans, just thinking of how to get close to them, how to commit the final act, until you speak, reading is mind again.

“I-” you stutter ashamedly, “I think- I know that my time in there has changed me and maybe I see things differently or know more than I used to but… it doesn’t change that I’m with you. I never let that go.” You whimper, “It just hurt when you didn’t say anything to me. Like you were disgusted by me.” You can’t help the string of sobs that come out.

“No,” Daryl holds your face close to his. The bottom of his palm reaching your neck, his fingertips extending over your cheeks, his thumb caressing over the area under and behind your ears. “I fucked up. I was going to try to blow up a part of the Sanctuary… even before I knew you got out… If you got hurt that would have been my fault. That would have been on me. I’d never see you again- Would’ve hated myself.” His voice hitches, it’s rasp so coarse and grating.

You hug him instantly. Your hands go under his arms and one of his goes in your hair, holding your head so tightly as it presses into his shoulder. He cries, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop” You breathe him in, “It’s okay.”

“It aint.”

“It doesn’t matter now.“ You wait a moment, telling him quietly into his neck, “I only want to be with you.”

“And what if it goes bad? What if I hurt you again?”

“We’re going to hurt each other, Daryl. What matters is we try and we stay. That’s it.”

He faces you now. His nose brushes against yours, your foreheads connect, it makes your eyes flutter shut. Your tears are drying the longer he holds you like that and everything feels so warm. Your heart, your brain, your cheeks and his fingertips against them. It makes you feel it again, that fearlessness— you kiss him. Gently touching his jaw, your chin moves upwards, your mouths opens, your lips twist so softly with his, you already can’t breathe, and then you let go.

As he looks at your face, he smiles, realizing he’s seeing the girl he used to know again. His sunshine girl with the stars in her eyes. They’re shining up, still half sad and glossy, but the bright lights are slowly coming back on. His dream is back. She’s real. You’re real. You’re trying, you’re staying, so will he.

He takes your neck and kisses you this time. His tongue slips in, you’re so surprised, you gasp into his mouth. It makes you both smile into the kiss. You come closer and he helps you into his lap, allowing you to lean in. His hands go to your waist and yours to his shoulders. Then one of his hands runs up to your hair and your opposite hand does the same to him. You want to touch each other everywhere now.

Then he feels the ribbon, the black one. It makes him stop.

You’re worried, “What happened?”

He holds the piece of hair that the ribbon is secured to, it’s only a little part, the rest of your hair is down, and he undoes the bow, discarding it to the ground. Your hair falls messily over your ears and down your neck. “You don’t need that anymore.”

Daryl pushes your hips and you sit on the floor again. He’s reaching in his pocket, and you can’t believe it, it’s another one. A dark ruby, maybe a silky burgundy one it was in color— it was another ribbon.

“How long have you had that?”

“Since I found the other one.” He shrugs, “I thought the first one was better.” This one had fraying on one end, unraveling just a bit.

You would have said that you could sew it later, but you didn’t, you said only what mattered: “It’s perfect.”

Daryl doesn’t argue. This is him trying, he takes the win.

He doesn’t know how to put it nicely in your hair, how you do it with the different styles, so he just wraps all of your hair in a ponytail, just like last time, tying it into a bow.

It feels like a gift, not just because he gave it to you and not because it looks like a decoration on top of one, but it is all of it— this moment, the conversation— it all feels like breathing new life into something you worried might be slowly withering and dying. You exhale, it felt so nice to feel him so close, to feel his fingers run through your hair, to feel his breath on your skin.

“Think maybe this suits you better now,” he says, and maybe it always has.

He leans back against the wall and you lay your head and back in the crux of his knees and chest. You look up into his eyes and he does the same right down at you. There was more work to be done, more fighting to endure, but for now, you lay there as if you were the only two in the world. In a moment of sweet understanding; in a moment of love. You could finally admit it to yourself now, you were absolutely and monumentally in love.

… I could go on forever ♡ perhaps this can be a mini-series where I post one when I think of another and you can feel free to request a trinket you think Daryl would give the reader and I’ll post it and respond or even write a blurb for it and add it to the list if it’s a good fit! Thank you for reading. ⋆｡°✩

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x fem!reader #daryl dixon x female reader #the walking dead #the walking dead fluff #twd fanfiction #twd fluff #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #writella’s sfw section

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dozyrogue · 28 days

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Okay so since the soulfire talk is back I want to talk about how people were so convinced that Bolas is the definition of found family but it seriously isn't.

They were brought together by the fact that in purgatory you lose yourself or you don't and at the time everyone in bolas was not well beforehand and then they were put on an island that basically said "you are going to Lose Yourself." And then they did it all together and that's it. So it's kind of funny when people are like "oh they're no longer family :(" like yeah that's the point.

Then we have soulfire who I say most of the people on that team were alone for they were already close to each other.

Like this was around the time where Tubbo started to feel very alone and then he got pushed into purgatory.

Tina was learning about or remembering her past as a demon and how much she hated it. And she also only really had foolish and bagi. But was also kinda pushing bagi away

Everything about badboyHalo. Him and Tubbo are so alike that it actually drives me crazy. And homestly during that time he only really had dapper.

Bagi who was rejected by her brother that she spent FOREVER TO FIND and the relationship between her and Tina was just starting.

Like even outside of purgatory soulfire still respects each other. It's only badboyHalo and tubbo that are willing to defend each other when other people keep stealing from them. Whenever Tina gets to see her beloved tubward she's always excited to see him and just happy to be with him again. The constant of soulfire members calling tubbo coach?? My heart is melting.

OH AND LETS NOT FORGET Pac, Bagi & bbh going to Purgatory 2 simply to save tubbo and bring tubbo back?? I'm sobbing my eyes out. Why did they make that their canon reason??? Cuz pain.

Yeah there was a moment where they had some respect issues for Tubbo. But Tubbo Time After Time proved himself to be the best leader for soulfire. Like sure anyone could have led soulfire but it's just something about tubbo being the main guy that pulls it all together. And on top of that it wasn't just tubbo leading bbh and tina where also helping and leading as much as they could. It would just lead back to tubbo. Unlike the bolas phil Messiah thing they had going on, even though that was good!

bagi when they came back still had great care for Tubbo. And that's just a here thing bte, they all did. She was one of the few people that saw him cracking and I will always love her for that. Now tubbo and bad have such a strange respect for each other that You Don't See with other characters. And I love that with all my heart.

they are so found family coded and I love them for it.

Found family even if they aren't together constantly anymore

Soulfire you will always always have a fan in me.

If soulfire has no defenders I'm DEAD

#qsmp tubbo #qsmp bagi #qsmp tina #qsmp pac #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp soulfire #qsmp purgatory #im crazy but im free

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ashesofivory · 2 months

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kissy smudge

: ̗̀➛ pairing: carmy berzatto x f!reader.

: ̗̀➛ rating: no rating, available for all ages.

: ̗̀➛ warnings: swearing, fluff.

: ̗̀➛summary: your journey with carmen summed up in one, cute gesture. (just a small carmy blurb because i love the man)

: ̗̀➛ word count: 1.9 k.

Usually, things aren't what they look like, or how they appear to be. There's always something — a hidden element, that lies buried under layers and masks of pretension and appearance. This applies to minds, human minds at that. While someone may appear calm and collected, like they have everything in control; it can be a simple façade, an excuse to lay low and not raise any worry or suspicion. That's what happens with Carmy Anthony Berzatto.

Seeming like a quiet, observant, and focused man, the Chicago native and award-winning chef is a ball of chaos, misunderstanding, and anxiety all tangled up like a kitten in a ball of yarn, or a bear, for that matter; all lying under the sound of pans and sizzling oil, mixed up with the various and rich aromas of exquisite and thought-over dishes.

The fear, the feeling of being trapped inside of a non-existent cage, the frustration at not feeling deserving and worthy, valuable or talented, eats him slowly but surely, just like a tornado does with a small city. But in chaos, there's always a constant, something that doesn't change, and that somehow, keeps everything at bay, offering that bit of comfort that the sound of waves crashing against the shore brings — soft and tranquil, like a feather touch. And for the chef, that constant is you. When things are wrong, whenever the noise in his mind doesn't let him talk and express himself, you speak with him, you understand and comprehend him in a way that no one had been able to before. You were the calm to his raging storm.

Having met each other while he was working in Copenhagen, sharing a kitchen, and being part of the three Michelin star restaurant, you had seen first-hand the development that he had gone through. From wanting to prove his brother right, to finding his own little heaven in the culinary world, and slowly found yourself sharing that enjoyment with him. It started with little quips and teases while cooking or cutting vegetables beside each other, gradually turned into coincidental meet-ups in the walk-in fridge, or sneaky kisses and caresses when the day winded up to an end. The slowest burn of them all, acts of service being his primary love language, had swept you up your feet. Whenever you didn't share the same shift, you'd come home to a delicious home-cooked meal and a shared bottle of wine, along with your favorite series pre-recorded on the shitty TV of your apartment; and whenever you shared the same shift, he'd make sure that his girl was never tired or worn out, usually throwing in the usual 'I can take over this, take a break' or 'jus' tell me if you need anything, chef'.

So, when your little personal heaven was broken by the devastating news of Michael Berzatto, the bigger bear's death, it hit you straight in the face. After much debate and persuasion from Carmy's side for you to stay here while he crossed the globe to take over the family's restaurant, you easily found yourself on the plane seat next to his, discussing how he'd run the place — or how he preferred to say it, how you both would run the place.

If Carmen's inside storm wasn't enough, The Beef was an added bonus to it all. The place was dirty, disorganized, and just a general mess, you could smell the mold rotting inside the ceiling and such. The crew was probably the only salvageable part of it all, with Tina being a sweetheart to you since the beginning and Marcus trying his best not to be a nuisance — although you butted heads with Richie at any given opportunity, you knew that in a deep part in his heart, he also considered you 'cousin'. And let's not talk about Sydney, her nervousness but ambition reminded you of a younger self, and took her in your arms despite the closeness in age. Putting that aside, it wasn't enough. The money was short, the local was in bad condition and you could see how Carmen's image was turning duller and his dream was vanishing away, turning into a shell of the man he once was.

As if it was a gift sent from God above, a miracle happened and money started appearing inside tomato cans, Mikey's courtesy, and you swore you hadn't jumped and laughed so much in a single day. A rainbow was starting to show up behind those stormy clouds, and tears brimmed your eyes as you saw Carmen's face light up for the first time since coming back to Chicago. He really had the sweetest smile. With the money, came the wish of renovating The Beef into Carmen's wish -- The Bear, and it didn't take much convincing between the crew that it was a much-needed change.

With newfound hope and determination, you and Carmen embarked on the journey of transforming The Beef into The Bear. It was a daunting task, but with your combined skills and unwavering support for each other, you tackled each challenge head-on. Despite the wave of challenges that came with such a monumental task, the camaraderie among the crew only grew stronger. Late nights turned into early mornings as everyone worked tirelessly to bring Carmen's vision to fruition. Carmy's eye for detail ensured that every corner of the restaurant was immaculate, Tina made sure to keep a familiar, comfortable vibe in the now shiny and white kitchen, Marcus took his deserved time to learn about pastries, Sydney embraced herself in a path to find the perfect menu, while your knack for organization streamlined the renovation process. Even Richie, begrudgingly at first and with Fax's help, lent his "expertise" in carpentry and construction, proving to be an invaluable asset, or so it was before he flooded the restaurant with the ceiling's mold — all within 3 months before opening.

It turned into an even more special project when Natalie, or Sugar, agreed to officially join in and make a place for herself as the project manager while carrying a baby. The woman was a sweetheart, really, and the resemblance to Carmen was pretty much obvious.

Now, here we are, just 5 weeks away from opening, and the place is barely presentable. The fire prevention test keeps being negative and the menu is still in drafts, and because the fire prevention rest keeps failing, you can't move forward with the menu, and it becomes a never-ending cycle.

"Focaccia and Bucatini does sound like a great pair," you mutter as you lean against the metallic kitchen counter, eyeing Syd's scribbles regarding the menu. "but if we do that, we'll have to propose a richer dish for seconds since pasta can be a bit bland for some people."

"Yeah, that's why I thought about a T-Bone. Think of it, it makes sense to have a meat dish in the menu since it'd also serve as an homage to The Beef," the younger commented, circling the handwriting with a pen and looking up at you for approval, even though your eyes tell her everything she needs to know.

"I'd like for you to organize my whole life, please. You're a fucking lifesaver." Your right hand comes up to give Sydney's shoulder a tender squeeze before marching away deep inside the kitchen and trying to keep up with whatever's going on with the fridge.

In the cramped office that lies inside the office, Sugar works on the restaurant's financial plan while listening to the not-so-sweet melody of pots bumping against each other and Fak trying to explain himself and his doings. She scribbles a number to call for the fire prevention test before letting out a small sigh and rubbing her face with her hands. This being Sugar's office, however, it's just temporal and for the time being, being borrowed from Carmy since he's now too busy to even sit on the weary chair and do this himself. But it still holds his belongings — the NOMA book, Mikey's family meal spaghetti recipe, and a picture of the both of you, for instance. The latest catches Sugar's attention.

It's a simple photo of you and Carmen, in Copenhagen, framed in white wood with a simple crystal on top of it. Both of you had your chef coats on; you were leaning with both of your elbows on the kitchen counter while Carmy was next to you, leaning on his side while looking at the camera. The photo doesn't seem staged whatsoever, rather looking like it had been taken at a moment of distraction. The light that comes into the office is reflecting on the picture, and just then, Sugar can see a little smudge on the glass. The kiss mark atop your face in the picture emerges as she shifts. Sugar chuckles softly at the sight of the kiss mark, a testament to the intimacy and affection shared between you and Carmy. It's a moment of respite amidst the chaos, a reminder of the love that fuels the determination to overcome the hurdles they face.

Sugar's eyes soften as she notices the kiss mark on the glass, a gentle smile forming on her lips. She can't push herself to reach out to touch the smudge, feeling as, if she did, she'd break this gesture. To think of how far Carmy has come, from being closed-off and awkward to finding comfort in kissing his girlfriend's side of a photograph, makes Nat feel like her proudest big sister.

A knock at the door interrupts her reverie, and she quickly wipes away a stray tear before calling out, "Come in."

Tina, the sous chef, pokes her head through the door, her expression a mix of concern and determination. "Hey, Sugar. Just wanted to give you an update on the kitchen. We're making progress, but it's slow going with all the setbacks. Marcus is working on a new pastry recipe, and Sydney's tweaking the menu again. Oh, and Richie's attempting to fix the mess he made with the ceiling."

Sugar nods, grateful for Tina's update. "Thanks, Tina. Keep up the good work. We'll get through this."

As Tina leaves, Sugar's gaze returns to the photograph on the desk. She cherishes the passion and dedication she had seen in both you and Carmen during these past weeks, now recalling the numerous times she had noticed how you and Carmy had sneaked a kiss or hug when nobody was watching, or how he kept a hand on the small of your back when you were doing anything and he was nearby. Despite the challenges you faced, they always found a way to persevere, fueled by your shared love for cooking and each other.

With a renewed sense of determination, Sugar picks up the phone and dials the number for the fire prevention test. As she waits for someone to answer on the other end, she glances once more at the photograph, drawing strength from the love and resilience it represents.

"We'll make this work," she whispers to herself, her voice filled with conviction. And with that, she dives back into the task at hand, ready to tackle whatever challenges lie ahead and ensure that The Bear opens its doors to the world, just as you and Carmen had dreamed.

This might be chaos, an error, a mess, a raging storm waiting to be tamed, but a kiss smudge might just beat it all.

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmyberzatto x you #the bear fantiction #fanfiction #fanfic #the bear fanfic #carmen berzatto fanfic

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cat-mentality · 7 months

Text

Back on with my silly qsmp headcanons with zero evidences in canon!!!

The English version:

Foolish has never once in his life tried to pretend to be human, yet people just genuinely think he is like that(tm) and don't question anything he does

As he has shark dna Foolish doesn't need to blink as often as a human, he is therefore great at staring contests (it freaks the fuck out of everyone)

Foolish and Bad keep an score of how many times they have killed each other just to have bragging rights

They have never give an straight answer when someone asks if they have fucked in the past

Bad sings in the shower

Fit is just a regular human but no one believes him when he says it, they all just think he is hiding his true self and he has received MANY talks about "embracing yourself"

Jaiden trauma dumps by accident. She will be having a perfectly normal conversation and then mention something horrible from her past without even meaning to.

Slime can't read a room to save his life, if embarrassement could kill that would be his main cause of death

He once lost control of his human form and left slime goo all over Wilbur right before a concert

Wilbur cannot handle spice.

Neither can Philza actually.

Niki in other hand has bitten peppers before and snacked on them.

Mouse is very open about the fact that she is a demon and she is very pleased that everyone on the Island just takes it in stride, since usually it freaks people out

Mouse is not saying she has partaken in eating human flesh before, but she is also not denying it.

Lenay has a criminal record. No one knows why and she has never answered either.

Tubbo talks with his machines and it freaked him the fuck out when they started to answer him (It's Arin and he is loving this new kid)

Quackity and Mouse once entered a competition on who could hold their breath for longer (The both passed out)

Philza thinks every sickness can be fixed with avocado toast and he will recomend it as legitimate medical treatment

Jaiden talks with parrots and they keep her on loop of all the gossip on the Island

It took Tina literally invoking the powers of hell to people realize she is a demon and not a rabbit hybrid and Mouse was incredibly excited to have a demon bestie

Foolish is in fact jealous

Niki is such a good baker that she has made people cry by how good her food is

Fit spends a lot of his time running around Tubbo and stopping him from poking where he shouldn't, Philza is just glad he has someone to share the babysitting duty

Slime is a light weight, one glass of wine and the man is gone

Niki is an lynx hybrid and she has hissed at people before. She also can sort of understand cats and they follow her around a lot.

Fit is in fact allergic to cats but every cat on the Island seems to really love him

Slime needs his glasses less than his bitch wife so he will sometimes take them off, but it causes a lot of confusion because people fail to recognize him without them

Lenay has a terrible sense of direction, she is just better at following people and hoping for the best

Philza's crows really like both Fit and Tubbo and will sometimes follow them around but get sometimes annoyed that they wouldn't understand them

Bad and Philza were coworkers for a time

Jaiden can't dance but she sure as hell likes to try

Lenay on the other hand is a good dancer but she doesn't usually do it

Tubbo is actually a duck hybrid but literally no ones believes him when he tells them that because all the ducks on the Island hate him

He falls asleep on the most random spots ever because it's less sleeping and more crashing, he doesn't even know where his bed is

Fit will sometimes thrown his mechanical arm at people. No reason but that he felt like doing it.

Bad uses his tail to hit people when they are being annoying.

Foolish once bite his tail in retaliation.

#okay this is the last for now #maybe i can do one for the eggs later idk #qsmp #qsmp headcanons #qsmp foolish #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp tina #qsmp niki #qsmp tubbo #qsmp fitmc #qsmp philza #qsmp slimecicle #qsmp wilbur #qsmp jaiden #qsmp ironmouse #qsmp lenay #so many people so many hcs left behind

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dearhargrove · 2 years

Text

Suffocating in your love

summary One of Billy's friends goes too far while drunk and ends up choking you. Close to passing out Billy comes to your rescue.

Billy Hargrove x f!reader

warnings choking, fights, swearing, attempted SA

word count 3,235

a/n ik the title is cheesy as fuck (which is why I chose it 💀) just don't comment on it <3 @yourcatsmilk approved of this so she takes the blame if it's bad :D

masterlist

navigation

When Tina announced that she was going to throw a party you knew Billy would be going there for sure, after all he attended every party (no matter how shitty it was). You didn't like parties as most of them just consisted of too loud - and bad - music along with cheap booze.

Apart from that you didn't like the popular crowd, all of them were the same and loved to spread rumors (which, most of the time, were totally made up). They didn't necessarily like you either, Tina, Carol and the others preferred girls that would act similarly and didn't do their own thing as you did.

Since you were with Billy, they still pretended to be best friends with you. Billy knew very well how much you disliked them but he found it rather amusing how they invaded your space as soon as you were around. But that was only when he was there, too. When you were alone they either completely ignored you or went as far as teasing you, telling you that you're not worth dating Billy etcetera.

At first it definitely hurt you and made you insecure because Billy was far out of your league. It was a wonder that you managed to be with him and at the beginning you were expecting him to break things off at any given moment.

But so far he's only proven how much he loves and appreciates you. Trusting him was hard at first, he could be really manipulative if he wanted to, and you had some deep-rooted trust issues but step by step he proved himself to you.

It came as a surprise when you found out about how much damage he had taken (and still took) when it came to his home life. It was more than once a week that you patched him up and tried convincing him into just staying with you.

He also cared a lot more about his little sister than he would ever admit, constantly worrying when he left her alone with Neill - his father -.

You had a healthy relationship which you were really happy about, so you couldn't care less what Carol and her friends had to say about it.

Searching for a dress or something else party-fitting was definitely a challenge. You were more of an introvert, preferring to just spend your time inside and by yourself.

Billy had offered for you to stay home but that would just lead to him being too drunk to drive at the end of the night and you weren't in the mood for him to cause a car accident. So, going with him it was.

"You ready?" He asks and comes up behind you, hugging you. You just sigh, "Nope. I really don't have anything to wear." He chuckles and presses a kiss to your neck before letting go of you and rummaging through your clothes.

You watch him with your arms crossed over your chest. After about five minutes he pulls out a white, simple dress. It wasn't tight - instead only cinching around the waist, flowy Material hiding most of your body when worn.

It was your favorite dress from the two or three you owned and so far Billy hadn't seen you wearing it. It wasn't short, and definitely not the kind of dress all the other girls would be wearing, but it was better than nothing and you felt comfortable in it. He passes it to you and examines it for a second, "Haven't seen that one before." He raises one eyebrow and you shrug cheekily before laying it on the bed and dressing out of your current clothes - a t-shirt you'd stolen from him and some loose shorts -.

He whistles with a smirk and you show him the middle finger with a blush on your cheeks because Jesus, this man drove you absolutely crazy. Pulling it over your head you adjust it, fitting it so it is tight around your waist but otherwise sitting loosely.

Lifting your head you see Billy, his eyes fixed on your body as he checked you out. "You're staring." You state and he makes eye contact, a smirk clear on his face. "Well, baby, you're really attractive," he stops and waves you over, arms open. Coming closer you put your arms around his neck and he looks up from where he was sitting, circling his arms around your middle. "And you're mine, sooo~" he drags the 'so' out, making you smile.

"Alright. When do we have to be there?" He looks at his watch, "Uh, ten minutes ago." He chuckles a little at your expression and you just smack his shoulder, "Could've told me to get ready earlier, idiot." He just stares at you lovingly with some amusement on his face. "Let me get my shoes and we can go." He nods and lets you go, keeping an eye on you nevertheless.

The way to Tina's house was filled with his obnoxiously loud music which was already close to giving you a headache. When you arrived some people turned around - the car giving away who you were. In some way you could understand their fascination with him, it's not like you weren't fully smitten with him as well, but it was still weird to be greeted by everyone with fake friendliness.

He keeps an arm around you while weaving through the huge crowd of people. You weren't sure who he was looking for but you just followed along, not having anyone to go to anyway.

At some point you lose sight of him, opting for walking around by yourself. You weren't too keen on drinking the disgusting alcohol they offered but it made all of this more bearable, so you did it anyway. What you didn't expect was seeing Nancy with Steve Harrington.

You knew they were a thing but it was even less likely for her to be at a party than for you. But she was also one of your only friends, so you walked over. "Nance?" She looks up and her eyes are half closed - she'd probably already had some of the red mixture standing on the kitchen counter. "(y/n)?" She asks and stumbles her way to you. "Uh, yeah. What are you doing here?" She goes on to explain why and with who she was there, though most of it was so slurred you barely understood her.

After a few minutes you hear a commotion outside and both you and Nancy turn around, "Your boyfriend." She giggles drunkenly before walking off. You wait to see Steve walk after her, relieved when he does, and decide to check on Billy.

He was surely completely gone by now, although he had a high tolerance he had probably been drinking since you got here. Sighing as you'd have to deal with him afterwards you lean against the brick of the house, watching him on the keg stand.

Everyone was cheering him on and you had to admit you were slightly worried for him, considering the huge amounts of booze he was consuming.

Your attention is completely on him so you don't notice the guy coming your way, only really seeing him when he stops in front of you. "You need something?" He shakes his head, an off-putting smirk on his face when he comes closer. "So you're Hargrove's girl, huh?" He's obviously drunk, his words slurring into one. You just scoff, getting uncomfortable.

He comes closer, raising one hand to touch your cheek. Repulsed, you flinch away, losing sight of Billy with the movement.

"Could you leave me alone?" He ignores your question and moves even closer, one hand now on your hip. You're trapped; the wall behind you and all the people around you made it impossible to escape those weirdos' arms.

By now he's covering you completely, limiting your movements as you struggle against him. "Relax! God, didn't know you were such a prude." He complains and his intentions become clear to you. It makes you panic, where was Billy when you needed him? Trying to look over the guy's shoulders you can only see the top of the heads from the other people surrounding you, but nowhere in sight is the familiar blonde mullet.

"Let me go!" He shakes his head with an amused grin on his face and just watches you struggle. While he's distracted you manage a kick to his middle and he crouches down enough for you to escape. Frantically you make your way to the door leading inside, hoping to find Billy somewhere in the crowds of people.

It's only a good minute when a hand grabs you and pulls you back, your yelling getting muffled by a hand over your mouth. You see Tina as she eyes you, huffing before turning away.

It's hard to breathe, his hand big enough to cover your mouth and nose. He tugs you back outside and your vision quickly starts swimming at the edges.

When he lets you go it's only to press you against a wall of some kind, his hand wrapping around your neck. "Be quiet. You're fucking annoying, you know that?" Tears are running down your cheeks and the air slowly leaves your lungs, his hand squeezing your throat tight enough to take away all possible ways of breathing.

You scratch at his wrist but he just ignores you, starting to search for a zipper on your dress. In the second in which your eyes roll back and you pass out Billy comes around the corner, his eyes finding you with the guy leaning over you. He sobers up nearly immediately when he sees you slumped against the wall while some guy tries undressing you.

He stomps over, ripping him away from you with a fiery look in his eyes. The guy goes to complain but then makes eye contact with Billy. Billy's taller than the guy that had captured you, staring down at him. They make eye contact, tension clear to everyone that'd pass by.

"How dare you touch her like that?" His voice is scarily calm and it's silent for a moment before he lunches forward, hitting the guy right on his nose. Continuously hitting him, Billy gets lost for a second before focusing back on what was really important; you.

So, when he's happy with the result he lets go of the guy, pulling him up by his collar to threaten him, "Come close to her again and I'll kill you, got that?" The dude nods, fear clear on his face. Billy let's go and he falls back to the ground, laying there and clutching his head.

That's when Billy turns to you, horror overcoming him at the fact that you were still unconscious. He kneels down next to you and pulls you on his legs, pulling the zipper back up before draping his jean jacket over your shoulders. To be honest he had no idea what to do. He's been in this situation often enough, being beaten up was nothing new after all, but with you it was different. His thoughts are racing but still slow, considering the huge amount of liquor he had consumed, so it's hard to concentrate.

He brushes your hair out of your face and could beat the guy up all over again when he sees the bruise forming around your neck. It's red and barely visible in the night but it will be an angry purple tomorrow and serve as a reminder that he had failed to protect you.

Seeing that this would be the worst place for you to wake back up he puts an arm under your knees and with the other holds your shoulders, carefully. With you in his arms he stands up, walking the way through the garden where not half the school was standing.

He carefully buckles you in when he arrives at the car and is quick to get in himself, driving off with urgency.

When he's close to your house, you start to wake up, pounding headache making your sight blurry once again this evening.

A cough forces its way out of your throat and it hurts, everything hurts. It all comes back to you and the tears are inevitable.

"Baby, don't cry. I took care of him. He won't bother you again, yeah?" Billy's voice is slightly panicked but mostly regretful, he knew his job was to protect you and exactly that was what he failed to do today.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He whimpers, not being able to stop himself from making his guilt known. You reach out, taking one of his hands that were clutching the steering wheel tightly - knuckles turned white. "It's alright. I was out of your sight." He just shakes his head, trying to protest but you interrupt him, "Billy. I'm serious. None of this is your fault. Don't blame yourself for not being there, this kind of risk is always there at parties. I knew that." Your voice is scratchy, resulting from the pain in your throat.

"No, I should've stayed with you. I should've-" his voice breaks and he pulls up to your house, stopping the car. This gives you the chance to turn to him, hands on his cheeks. "It's okay, baby. I'm here and I'm safe now, because you helped me. You saved me from that asshole before anything worse could've happened."

His eyes are full of tears with which he's fighting and you just wipe your thumb over his cheeks in a soothing manner. This had always been one of his biggest fears, not being there for you when you needed him most because whenever he got beat up by his father he was left alone, no one there to care for him. The least he wanted was for you to feel that, too.

"Let's get in and sleep, I'm tired and I bet you are, too." He always got a little emotional when he was drunk, and he would regret it in the morning. So the best to do was just get him to bed - preferably yours.

He nods after some thinking and you get out, stumbling a little on the first steps. Biting your lip you take his hand and your key, letting you two inside.

When you're in your bedroom he collapses on top of the soft mattress, his hair sprawling around his head in a cute way. His eyes are closed and by now you're not even sure if it was to stop the tears or because he was so tired.

You get out of the dress and shoes, pulling a discarded shirt (which most likely was Billy's) over your head before getting to work on undressing him, his clothes reeking of alcohol and smoke.

He's mostly unresponsive, tiredness catching up to him, and lets you do whatever. When you're done he's left in his underwear and Tank Top - what he usually slept in. With a sigh you fall on top of him, his arms winding around you without hesitation. You know him well enough to see the struggle on his face, probably still blaming himself for what happened.

In no way was it okay as you had told him earlier, you were still uneasy and you don't think you'll be able to go out by yourself later in the day for the next few weeks. Of course you would've wanted him to be there, but he shouldn't have to put his own enjoyment aside to babysit you. He wouldn't believe you no matter how many times you would tell him that it wasn't his fault in the end.

His hands are cramping in your shirt and he was obviously not going to rest soon, thoughts plaguing his mind. You didn't have a situation like this before, only similar ones after he'd had a fight with his father and felt extremely vulnerable, tending to believe whatever bullshit Neill had told him that day.

Laying a hand against his cheek he opens his eyes, looking at you before his gaze slides to the bruise around your throat. "Stop being guilty, there's nothing for you to be guilty for." You know he doesn't believe you when his eyebrows pull together.

"No, I am. I mean- mean I could've helped, could've prevented it. Just- I wasn't there because of some stupid drink game." He's upset, stumbling over his words in a hurry. You just sigh, "Let's talk about this tomorrow, you can't think straight right now." He shakes his head, "No, no. I can, let's talk now." He hated not getting stuff like this done right away, meaning he would probably bother you until you agreed.

"Okay, you're lucky I love you." He grins a little though it's dimmed with sadness. "Still sorry." You keep yourself from rolling your eyes and sit up, seated on his lower stomach. He keeps his hands firmly at your hip bones, eyes trained on yours.

"Billy, stop saying you're sorry! I know you're blaming yourself but that's useless. It's not going to change the situation or what happened. You don't have to keep me in your sight at all times just because of this or whatever. I could've stayed with you instead of walking off by myself and yet I didn't. So stop blaming yourself or I'm going to do the same!" You knew by now he sometimes needed to - gently - be put in his place, otherwise he'd spiral down all his negative thoughts.

His eyes are wide but he seems to start understanding your point of view, "Hm." He grunts and turns his head to the side. "Eyes on me we're still talking, baby." He turns back to you, his cheeks carrying a blush due to the alcohol.

"So, you understand me and you'll stop blaming yourself?" He reluctantly nods and you pat his cheek happily. "Good. Now let's get you into the shower and then to bed." He nods pliantly but keeps you close. "You're coming in, too." He argues while taking off his tank top.

You chuckle at his request and gladly agree, happy to wash his hair and pamper him even more.

Taking care of his hair was relaxing and maddening at the same time, his unruly curls hard to brush through but pleasant to wash.

When you're done with him (and yourself) it's nearly 1 AM, the moon high in the sky. "Did I tell you it's really sexy when you wear my clothes?" He smirks, his arms around your waist and his face in your neck.

Groaning you push him off, deadpanning, "You tell me every single time." He laughs cheekily and falls to the bed, pulling you down with him. "Alright, goodnight now." He nods and waits while you get comfortable against him, his body heat practically burning you (no joke, that boy was constantly burning up).

"Love you." You reciprocate before falling asleep to his hands caressing your hair and back.

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #dacre montgomery #dacre x reader #dacre montgomery x reader

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gh0stsp1d3r · 3 months

Note

I have this Carmy request if it’s okay hehe

Carmy x fem!reader where she’s new to Chicago and desperately needs a job, she’s newly pregnant (her bf having run off the minute she told him she was pregnant), so she walks into a new upcoming restaurant for a job, The Bear. She’s rambling and apologizing as she shows Carmy her résumé because she has no experience in the food industry (she was an elementary teacher for a couple years before), but also telling him she really needs a job because she’s alone with a baby on the way. He really wants to help her, so he hires her either as a hostess or an assistant (he didn’t want her in the kitchen just for safety reasons (her being pregnant), and because she doesn’t have experience in the kitchen). Anyways, The Bear staff embrace her like she’s family, always looking out for her, Tina mothering her, Syd becoming her best friend, Marcus making sweets whenever she’s craving it, even Richie being super soft with her, but Carmy especially gets REALLY close with her, like to the point where he’s driving her to and from work (b/c she doesn’t have a car), he’s taking her to her prenatal appointments, letting her take breaks in his office (her napping on his couch), him even being there for the birth of her daughter because she doesn’t want to be alone, etc…

Also The Bear staff throwing a baby shower for Y/n🥺 Her showing up at work and being surprised to it🤧🤧 Y/n definitely crying into Carmy’s chest🤧

Anyways, they officially start dating close to the end of her pregnancy, and honestly they both fall head over heals 🤧

Y/n’s daughter’s first word being directed at Carmy… “Dada”😭 Carmy melting😭😭

ℳℴ𝓇ℯ 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔

stop this is so cute.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Your chances of finding a place to work were slim to none- you tried everywhere, the Walmart, Walgreens, even the random corner store. But because you were pregnant, they wouldn’t hurt you.

Of course your asshole of an ex boyfriend ran away the second he heard you were pregnant, while you cried and begged for him to stay. But you could get through on your own- you know you could.

You opened up the doors, a man conversing with a woman behind the counter. They both turned to the door upon hearing the bell ring.

“Hello..” you said, with a small wave, walking towards them.

“Hey, uh, sorry, but we’re actually renovating right now.. in case you missed the sign-“ the man started, but you handed him your résumé, and he stopped talking as he glanced over the words.

“I’m actually here for the job.” You said.

“Okay.. do you have any… actual cooking skills?” He said, picking up the paper and glancing at you, one hand was running through his hair.

“No. But I really need this job- any job. I’m.. pregnant, and my ex left me, and I’m about to be a single mother so-“ you said with an anxious laugh, “every other place rejected me, I swear I-“

Sydney’s eyes widened as she heard you talking, she felt bad. And so did Carmy as he nodded while listening to you, the paper on the counter.

“It says you were a teacher before..?” He pointed to the paper once you had stopped your rambling.

You nodded, “Yes. I’m very good with math, science, or anything really.”

He thought for a moment. Sydney spoke and interrupted the silence.

“Chef, can I talk to you for a second in the kitchen?” She said, he looked at her and nodded.

“Stay here, please.” He said to you, turning around and following Sydney.

“What’s up?”

“I think we should hire her.”

“I don’t wanna kick her out and leave her on the streets. But what could she be?” Carmy said.

“An assistant or something.” She shrugged.

“That could work..” he said, picturing it. He nodded and opened the doors again.

“Would you wanna be an assistant?” He asked you, your eyes lit up and you quickly nodded.

“Please.”

“You’re hired.” He said, and he felt like he did the right thing when you smiled, thanking him multiple times.

You were perfect with the rest of the family, they all loved you. Even Richie did.

Carmy had especially grown close to you and your child, so close that every day your daughter saw him, she ran up and hugged his legs with a giant smile.

He had taken you to doctor appointments, and he had made you any cravings you had when pregnant. It was close to the end when you both started dating.

He was there when you gave birth, holding your hand and helping you through it all. He loved your daughter and you more than anything else.

You smiled as you entered the bear, wrapping your arms around his neck as soon as you saw him. You kissed him, getting lost in it until your daughter started babbling.

You laughed as you both pulled away, you picked her up, and handed her to Carmy.

“Hey!!” He said in that sweet baby voice that you loved, it was adorable. He looked at her with a smile and tan a hand through her hair, moving it from her face.

“Addy.” She said, and you both looked at each other for a second and back to her.

“Is she trying to say…” you started.

“I think so.”

“Who’s that, baby? Is that daddy?” You spoke to her.

“Daddy.” She said. His eyes widened, as he smiled and laughed at her. You laughed with joy as well.

“Holy…”

“Awww!” You said, he smiled and gave her a small kiss on her forehead. His heart melted when she said that, he was overjoyed.

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto blurb #carmen berzatto fic #carmy blurb #carmy the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x you #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto

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corruptedcaps · 9 months

Text

Against the clock

Tory was getting that telltale itch as she sat in detention watching the clock tick down excruciatingly slow. She hated herself for feeling that way, for having the addiction. But she needed the release. She knew in a way it had ruined her life and was the reason she was in detention in the first place but in other more obvious ways it had made her life so much better. A week ago the idea that a good girl like her would be in here for bullying would have been absurd.

It had all started when she had agreed to tutor Chad. Chad was the school’s quarterback and newly most eligible bachelor since his bitchy girlfriend Veronica had moved away. Tory didn’t for a second have any interest in Chad. He was brash, vain and as big of a bully as Veronica but he was also rich and his money was something too good to pass up.

Her best friend Tina had raised some concerns however. “Isn’t he passing all his classes automatically because they need him on the field? Why would he get a tutor when he doesn’t even take a test?”

Tory had simply shrugged and said, “I don’t know? Maybe now that Veronica is out of his life he wants to better himself? She was always such a bad influence on him. Ever since she’s been gone he’s been a lot more quiet. I don’t think he’s bullied a single person.”

Tina remained unconvinced but Tory had put some of that down to knowing Tina had a crush on Chad. She knew deep down that Tina was jealous of her getting to spend time with Chad.

Arriving at Chad’s lush house, she was greeted warmly by him at the door. “Tory, come on in.” He said as he placed his hand on her lower back and guided her in. Tory strangely felt butterflies as he did.

To her surprise he then led her upstairs to his bedroom. She expected to study in his living room or kitchen but his bedroom would be fine too, even if it did make her butterflies go into overdrive.

“So where would you like to start? I’ve got history and math with me but if there is another subject you’d like…” She started saying before noticing him begin to take out a box labelled ‘Veronica’.

“What? Oh yeah the tutor stuff, yeah yeah we’ll do that in a minute but I wanted to ask if you wanted any of Veronica’s old stuff? I know she was particularly hard on you and thought it was only fair that you take something of hers now that she’s gone. She left it here before she moved.” Chad said. Tory felt a little touched that he would make this gesture even if she could care less about anything Veronica owned.

She didn’t want to seem rude so peered into the box and saw tight dresses, short skirts, assorted jewelry and various makeup all piled on top of each other. Absolutely nothing she saw interested her. However she could tell he wanted her to take something so she took the one thing that did slightly catch her eye, a perfume bottle with the letter ‘V’ emblazoned on it.

“Oh good choice. I always loved that perfume on Veronica.” Chad said with a smile that made Tory’s butterflies work up again. He was kind of charming, she thought to herself as she turned the perfume bottle over in her hands. A cheeky voice in her head was telling her to try some of the perfume on now. He did say he liked the smell, maybe he could like her if she put some on?

Uncapping the bottle she squirted a little on herself that proved to be more than enough as it quickly rushed to her nose, burning her nostrils with its sweet smell. Despite her memory of the smell being tied to her bullying she had to admit in that moment it smelt good on her.

“Ok so which subject do you… oh… ohhhhhh what’s happening?” She said as she suddenly felt a shift in her body start to take place.

As the mist from the perfume bottle engulfed Tory, a surge of energy coursed through her body, setting off a sequence of remarkable changes. Starting from her fingertips, her nails lengthened, gleaming with a lustrous coat of glossy pink, each one tapering into a perfectly sculpted point, exuding an air of elegance and sophistication.

“Ohhhh fuck I love how bitchy these look.” She said with a smirk before catching herself. “No what am I saying? This isn’t right!”

Tory's brown hair shimmered with an otherworldly radiance, transforming into cascading locks of lustrous, golden blonde. Her once shy, reserved demeanor dissolved, replaced by an air of captivating allure and self-assurance. Her soft features took on a sculpted elegance, cheekbones accentuated, and her eyes intensified, twinkling with mischief.

“Ohhhh but if this is wrong then who the fuck wants to be right?! More! I want more!” She moaned in pleasure.

Moving down, her legs experienced a remarkable transformation. They elongated and became more slender, accentuated by a gentle curve that drew attention to their graceful contours. Tory's ass, once modest and unassuming, transformed into a voluptuous, sculpted masterpiece. It gained an irresistible sway, captivating Chad’s attention with each confident step she took. She loved how he looked at her.

“Like what you see baby? Of course you do.” She said with a wink to a transfixed Chad. Her former repulsion to him had quickly grown into lust. She wanted him but she knew she wasn’t ready yet.

Tory's skin took on a flawless, porcelain-like quality, as if kissed by an ethereal glow. The once shy nerd found herself blessed with a radiant complexion, free from imperfections, with a delicate blush highlighting her cheekbones. Her tits, previously modest in size, blossomed into fuller, more pronounced breasts, accentuated by a newfound confidence that accentuated her feminine allure.

As the physical transformation completed, a shift in her personality became apparent. Tory's once kind and compassionate nature was overshadowed by a growing insatiable desire for power and adulation. The perfume's malevolent influence seeped into her soul, igniting a voracious hunger for control. Confidence transformed into arrogance, and shyness morphed into calculated manipulation.

“Oh fuck what a rush! You evil bastard, you knew this would happen didn’t you?” She said with a smirk as she sauntered over to him like a lioness.

“I made Veronica into the cold hearted bitch that she was, before me she was just another loser nobody like you used to be but I must say you look way better than she ever did.” Chad said as he drank in her body.

“Of course I’m better than her! Look at me, I’m perfection. I’m a goddess! Tory is dead, I’m Victoria the mega bitch now. I’m going to enjoy taking over that pathetic school on Monday but for now how about you take that big dick out for me baby so I can seal the deal as your hawt girlfriend.” Victoria said more as a command than a request.

The weekend was a whirlwind for not only Victoria but her family too. Her parents were shocked at her sudden and dramatic transformation but everything that made Tory a shy and unconfident girl was learned from them so Victoria easily had them under her heel. They were powerless to stop her taking their credit card and using it for herself. Her first stop was the mall to get herself new clothes. She was trying on her 7th dress of the day when she suddenly felt her body begin to ripple and change.

Chad hadn’t warned her that she needed to spray herself with the perfume every 24 hours otherwise she’d change back into Tory. Within moments her perfect tan was gone, her bitchy blonde hair darkened and her big boobs deflated. In a panic she reached for her phone and rang Chad who quickly filled her in.

“You didn’t think that was important to tell me?!” She yelled as she emptied her purse in the changing room looking for the bottle. Snatching it up she sprayed herself heavily and felt the mist settle onto her quickly and revert her back to her bitchy self.

“Mmmm much better.” She said with joy as she watched her boobs grow again and her hair shimmer.

“Sorry babe it slipped my mind.” She heard Chad say from her phone. She rolled her eyes and hit ‘end’ on the call. She was furious at him, she would make him spoil her rotten later but for now she had a new wardrobe to prepare for school.

Each outfit she tried on made her feel more confident, more bitchy, more powerful. It helped that as she strolled from store to store she felt the eyes of at least a dozen men on her. She felt intoxicated by their gazes, empowered by their lust. She even let a few of them give her their numbers.

At school on Monday Victoria quickly asserted her dominance over the student body. Within a few hours she had Veronica’s old clique completely loyal to her and following her around showering her with compliments as she picked on and teased everyone and anyone.

No one was spared from her venom but one person in particular had received more than the average, Tory’s friend Tina. Victoria seemed to relish in her bullying of Tina, as if she were attacking any remnant of her time as Tory. She made sure Tina was hounded day and night and found herself even getting wet bullying her former best friend.

“It must drive you mad knowing I fuck your crush nightly. He is even better than you can imagine. I told him about your little obsession with him and he nearly puked.” She said to Tina on Friday at the end of the week of abuse. However this was the last straw for poor Tina who lashed out at Victoria ripping her dress.

“You little maggot! How fucking dare you! Girls, grab her.” She said with a snap of her fingers and her minions quickly accosted Tina and dragged her into a nearby bathroom. Victoria watched in joy as her betas held Tina’s head in the toilet giving the queen herself the privilege of pressing the flush.

“That’s it girls, make sure we get every inch of her head, it’s the only shower she’s had in weeks.” Victoria said with a chortle and her clique laughed in sickening unison. Victoria leaned over to push the flush when suddenly the door opened and the principal stood there in disgust.

As she sat in detention, she didn’t care how it looked on her record. In fact she knew it would be a badge of honour and a warning to anyone who would try and step to her. No she was more worried about getting back to her perfume. She knew the principal would confiscate everything she had on her before dropping her in detention but thankfully she slid her bag to Chad who was nearby.

She hadn’t sprayed herself in the 24 hour window yet and with 20 minutes still left of detention she has completely reverted back to being Tory. She hungered for the perfume and the claw marks on her desk proved it.

Finally the bell rang and she rushed out of the door and straight to where Chad said he was. She could almost smell the perfume as she rounded the corner only to realize it wasn’t her imagination. Standing before her, a vision of pink and blonde was a woman of immense beauty and a cold eyed stare that stopped Tory in her tracks. In the woman’s hand was the perfume bottle. The only thing worse than Tory not having the perfume was her knowing who had it.

“Tina?” Tory said dumbfounded but knowing beyond a doubt the transformed goddess before her was Tina.

“That’s Valentina to you now loser.” Her previous bestie said with venom.

“Chad? What gives? You said I was even better than Veronica! I’m the best girlfriend you’ve ever had!” Tory said slowly losing confidence.

“You WERE the best but I know you’ve been cheating on me, and after everything I gave you. When you said Valentina here was obsessed with me, I knew she was the worthy successor and not you.” Chad said with a smirk.

“When Chad offered to make me into his new wicked girlfriend I couldn’t say yes fast enough. I just needed to separate you from the perfume. Who do you think tipped off the principal.” Valentina said with a cold calculating smile.

“You bitch!” Tory said as she ran at Valentina but was soon met with by a wall of bitchy betas that used to be her clique.

“Right on time girls. Grab the little bitch and finish what she started.” Valentina smirked as her friends roughly grabbed Tory and shoved her into the bathroom. Valentina meanwhile remained in place with Chad.

“Don’t you want to flush her babe?” Chad said to her but she just turned and smiled at him.

“Who the fuck cares about her? There’s only one thing I’m interested in now and it’s between those legs of yours.” She said as she pulled him away towards a nearby closet.

As the two fucked like carnal animals Valentina wondered to herself, what was getting her off more? Chad, or the sounds of wailing and flushing nearby.l?

The End

#f2f #corruption #evil bitch #bitchification #magic #evil couple #corrupted couple

187 notes · View notes

hourglassfish · 8 months

Text

On Season 1, Episode 7 Part Three : Risottogate

OK look,

Go and get yourself an ecto cooler or something, cus this is long, OK? This is long.

You comfortable?

Alright, let’s go.

don't forget the Xanax!

Elevated Beef (stock)

There’s a connection drawn between Sydney and veal stock in the Bear. She spills it all over herself during Brigade. Claire interrupts Carmy purchasing veal stock for menu testing her bone broth idea at the end of 2:2. It’s an interesting ingredient to align her with: a staple of French cuisine, something you’ll find in a professional high end kitchen but not necessarily at home, a distinctive, practical component which provides a subtle, solid umami base for a range of dishes.

The first time this connection is drawn is during one of my favourite interactions: the ‘plum haribo’ story in Brigade. Marcus has decorated his work station (I love him), and despite the fact that Carmy says he’s having flashbacks (eeeeeeek), I think he is happy to see this coming together of his two worlds.

They start talking about this fancy plum dish, and a gelee component (which will reappear in Honeydew!) that had to have a very specific texture. Carmy has been talking about the dedication needed to make this dish work with pride, presenting the texture of the gelee as a huge challenge, something it took someone a year to figure out. Sydney cracks it in less than a minute. Veal fat. She knows what’s needed, and she knows why: it congeals when it’s cold. Boom!

Carmy’s response to this always amuses me. He is not…dismayed exactly. Not quite. After all, it’s a reminder of her brilliance, and also that that world is not so far away. That being said, she cuts across a punchline here; and what was a mystery to the best chefs in the world for a year is immediately obvious to her, to the extent that it’s not even really a flex on her part: she states it quite diffidently. Marcus’s gleeful ‘Mission Accomplished’ is very different from Carmy’s, which is a bit more ‘…oh.’.

On rewatches where I feel charitable, Carmy then implements the brigade cus he's been reminded that he has someone close by from that world, he has an ally that speaks his language, who is talented. On days when I feel less charitable, I combine this with him later talking her through the differences between stock/jus/demi-glace in front of Tina like an asshole, and see him handing the brigade over at that specific moment, in the specific way that he does as passive aggressive. Most days I’m with the former! Still…we’re back in the grey areas of Syd and Carmy’s dynamic. Where all the good shit is!

He's so glad she figured that out so quickly, absolutely not feeling a type of way about it, nope, not at all

I wanted to start with this story cus it opens up three things for me:

a) just a frisson, a hint, a delicious drop (!) of competition between Syd and Carmy

b) the question, beloved by fanfic writers everywhere, of what the dynamic between these two might have been if they had met in a different context.

c) a third, messier thing, about Carmy going away, tooling up, coming back and it needing to be worth something, that going way. As far as he knows at this point, It didn’t achieve what it was meant to achieve, it didn’t get Mikey’s attention. Maybe he didn’t need to leave Chicago to do it. Sydney's talent tickles that tension, as does Marcus's (trios, trios!). So what was it for? What were the past few years of his life for, if a bunch of this stuff was in Chicago all along?

Who was Carmy away from Chicago? Who is he without his family? We’ve only seen one flashback so far, very much from inside Carmy’s head. The way he tells it is very different from what we see. At Al Anon, he describes himself like this:

‘when somebody new came into the restaurant to stage, I’d look at them like they were competition, like I’m gonna smoke this motherfucker’.

But you're tall and sexy, so don't worry about it babes

Gosh. Yes Chef!

I don’t think Carmy holds anything like this level of aggression towards any of the original staff of the Beef: it would be absurd: they don’t have his training or experience. For the most part we see doing the work of pulling a team together, which explicitly involves putting that kind of competitiveness to the side.

I don’t think he has this energy for Sydney.

Not quite.

I do think it’s an important thing for us to learn about his character. I do think that we are told it at the beginning of Episode 8, after Sydney has quit, because there are ugly feelings around the risotto dish. I do think that those feelings drive a lot of how Review goes down, and that Carmy knows this.

This ferocious comparison and competition, used as a driving force, is a part of who Carmy is, and a part of the kitchens that he has come from. In another context, Sydney would have just been competition. And he’d have been trying to smoke her.

Let’s follow a humble bowl of risotto through THREE EPISODES, and about 5000 words, good GOD.

Tracing the Journey of the Risotto: Unanticipated

I tried to find appetising pics of her cooking the risotto but mostly it doesn't look very aesthetic, so here is Syd in my fave of her scarves.

A Risotto, playing on ‘tongue in cheek’ is first tentatively pitched in Sheridan, as an idea for a new menu that they have ‘spoken about’. Carmy is… noncommittal. He’s not into it, but he doesn’t say that, he just doesn’t really engage. I think there are a bunch of valid reasons to not be into it, tbh. I’ve ordered risotto to go. It’s always kind of gluey and disappointing. Sydney isn’t given a clear no, so she decides to cook it: it becomes something she has to convince him on.

He doesn’t get to try it in this episode as there are drugs to sell and about a million different fires to fight. We know that she dreams about this dish though. In this episode she talks about how thinking about her mistakes with Sheridan Road keep her up at night, but the last images of the episode are of her dreaming: beef… raspberries… cola… fire: there it is. Cola braised short rib. We’re back in the realm of deeply personal creative expression that I spoke about in part two. That anxious energy around failing with Sheridan Road? Is going somewhere else, is being transformed. This is important, and has the potential to be profoundly healing. This dish has meaning for her.

The dish returns in Ceres. Syd is an unstoppable force with the dish, and having said she wants to be listened to, is not listening to several requests from Carmy for more time. Stressful! He deals with it well, at first. He is calm, and polite and asks her to hold on. Which is not a no. But then -

‘I know everybody you used to work for, I called them before hiring you’

oooooh weeee.

There is nothing wrong with him seeking out references. His reasons are logical, and he’s transparent about them. Personally? I think it’s sensible to let employees know you’re seeking out references to avoid paranoia, but it’s not a legal requirement. People do it informally via whisper networks all the time, both purposefully and by accident. Gotta say though, the phrasing and the timing of this ‘reveal’ made me wince.

There are a million different theories of feedback, of how to give and receive it well. One argues that feedback must be asked for, accurate and measurable. If it’s not measurable, then you are nitpicking. If it’s not accurate, you’re hating. If it’s not asked for, or at least delivered in an environment where it’s anticipated, it is unlikely to be received well. Carmy, unfortunately, delivers a whopper of unanticipated feedback here: ‘me and all your old bosses (I know EVERYONE YOU USED TO WORK WITH)have been talking about you and they all agree on this flaw’.

YIKES

Would I let Syd stab me for a bowl of this? Maaaaybe. Maybe.

My reading is that he wanted to ask for her patience, and to say that his decision to pace out the changes is coming from experience, but he’s being backed into a corner, so he summons up the spectre of her old bosses for back up. Syd had opened up last episode, and is still very vulnerable about Sheridan, so he unintentionally wounds her here. We can read this in her response. He says her employers said she was smart, talented, green and impatient, she hears ‘me and everyone you’ve worked for think your business failed because you were green and impatient, that’s why you’re here, and why this dish can’t go on the menu’. This dish is getting entangled in so many other things about where they’ve come from.

He does take the time to reframe it: outlines his practical concerns, and starts to articulate that he wants to maintain calm before they make more changes -

And then Sugar is banging on the door, demonstrating his point.

At this point, Carmy is trying to build a parachute. They don’t have one when Jimmy comes to visit in Hands, but they do have one that becomes Richie’s bail by Braciole. Reserve building takes steady, dull consistency, but this isn’t communicated, and they don’t agree on a timeframe for the menu development, or even to come back to this conversation. This is small stuff, I know I sound nitpicky! But in my experience managing people, tension builds in the unknowns, in the places where there aren’t specifics, especially when you have a team member like Sydney who is ambitious and dynamic.

Sydney is firmly in the realm of the job that Carmy specified here. He is dialling business, she is doing everything else. If you’re a nerd and you zoom in on her CV, she has done menu development before. She is green, but not that green. She is impatient, but she also doesn’t have the same complicated relationship with change at the Beef that pretty much everyone else but Marcus does. The risotto is the first unofficial test of the impact of strain on their (messy ass) working dynamic, to Review’s much more official gauntlet.

Why would they write a proper CV and film it if they didn't want me to spend 5 minutes hitting pause repeatedly until I'd read it?

*squints* designed daily specials with complete creative control! At Alinea! A THREE STAR MICHELIN RESTAURANT! At the time they wrote this, it had held and retained those stars for twelve years! She is not new to this!

Tracing the Journey of the Risotto Two: Unmeasurable

They try again with the risotto later. She is a little more patient, initially. She makes the effort and he thanks her for it. He tries it, which she really wanted (surely that will convince him!), and she has modified her request, from to-gos, to trying it as a special. Her equivalent of baby steps. She listened. She’s trying. Lovely Angel and my main man Ebra come by, taste and support Carmy’s ‘tremendous’.

But here Carmy gives feedback that isn’t measurable. It’s not perfect, but he doesn’t say why, even though he knows, and it’s an easy fix! He’s nitpicking, because he doesn’t, for a bunch of practical reasons, want to put risotto on the menu, but doesn’t want to shoot her down. He asks her if she understands after she has explicitly said that she doesn’t (cus he’s not being up front), and then doesn‘t explain himself. He’s not really asking if she understands, he’s telling her to stop. It’s not really the dish that’s not ready, not really, it’s him, he’s not ready to make a new raft of changes, to think through the gap between the Michelin star excellence he has come from, and the budgetary, practical restrains of where he’s at.

I think this is really fair. Or at least understandable. Carmy just wants to catch a breath, and he has to have oversight on so many different things at once, adding something else to that must feel terrifying. But the way he communicates this shuts down and restricts: he switches the dynamic from one where they listen to each other (which requires that they both explain themselves) to one where he tells and she does. It doesn’t really give her anywhere to go, so her frustration is inevitable and also understandable. Measurable feedback! Clarity. If you don’t want risotto on the menu Carmy, rip the band-aid, and say it, and say why. Get her to work on something that is going to fit with the menu in a different way, in the way that you want, and be clear about the way in which you want to shape it!

He knows he’s not been great here. Carmy apologises for ‘being shitty’ later in the episode (as others have noted, it’s a shit apology) and he also starts his apology with ‘needs acid’ in 1:8. He knows that a lot of Review is to do with this dish.

When Carmy apologises about being shitty later in Ceres, she doesn’t mention that she put the dish out earlier. It’s framed as a little moment of.. if not revenge, then a little something for herself. I think she knows it’s not OK, not really, or she’d have mentioned it, and her face says a lot when she says it’s cool. I’m not a chef, I only ever worked FOH, but my instinct is that its dodgy and it fills me with unease. A grey area. A pop of tension.

Tracing the Journey of the Risotto Three: Hating

Whenever I think about the strikes, I think about the broader ensemble in this show.

The next time the risotto turns up, it’s being mentioned in a review. A lot happens here, so I’m gonna bullet point out all the references, then analyse some of them afterwards. I’m also gonna jump a whole bunch, cus I want to stay tightly focused on the risotto itself, and the dynamic between Syd and Carmy as relates to it:

Ebra reads the review out!

Syd has a lovely, gentle smile for Ebra as he reads it, her whole body relaxes as she taps at the tablet. This validation clearly means a lot to her. Ebra’s dynamic with both Sydney and Marcus is consistently a joy to behold. When he tells her in Dogs that she’s given Marcus a lot of confidence, she glows, and I think it’s something she really needed to hear. He’s subtle about it, but he never makes her life difficult when she implements the brigade. There’s something about the oldest member of the team, reading the review out, a little haltingly cus English isn’t his first language, that doubles down on the love that can be present in the Beef, making it all the more jarring when –

Carmy cuts across this and starts talking about the day’s opening with a ‘stop reading that shit’

Fam ‘that shit’ just described your food as elevated and elegant! In the foodie heaven that is Chicago! In your restaurant which is kind of failing! It’s your team’s first review since you’ve been there! So straight away you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, because what has got his knickers in a twist?

Carmy is justified in being pissed off about Syd’s actions here. What he is not justified in, is not finding a way to celebrate the review itself with his team, who deserve to have this moment. It’s a milestone for them to get some external validation, and the restaurant, quite frankly, needs it. A five star review! Tina squeals with delight when she hears it. Before a new program and a busy shift is the perfect moment to read this out, and go into the work feeling good. A united, gassed up team? Would have killed those to gos.

Sydney is also responsible for this messiness though. In going rogue the episode before, something which could have been about the team becomes about her in a way that is sticky, and it becomes harder to celebrate. It was not her intention, but this is the outcome.

Ebra ignores Carmy

(cus he’s redundant and white JK JK don’t cancel me)

There is a double edged shout out to the team

‘the staff moves are next level’: this is such brilliant, important feedback from a team that has had to weather so much change! Also calls back to Richie: ‘Uh oh, Sydney making moves!’ in the car in Hands.

‘The sandwiches are so delicious as ever, but the standout dish that... that, that encapsulates all, this was the risotto with braised beef. The rice was luscious with a surprising ribbon of brine running through the sauce. The chef obviously knew what she was doing’

THAT REVIEWER IS A SNITCH

Did Syd know that reviewer was a reviewer? I dunno man. Maybe! She’s Chicago born and bred, knows the food scene well. It’s not outside of the realm of possibility that she’d recognise him. Maybe she just wanted some good immediate feedback, while she was feeling shitty! Maybe all she wanted was him to send a message back to the kitchen that’s like tell Syd the risotto was great: the impact of his Review but on a much smaller, less disruptive scale.

I think it’s genuine coincidence, which unfortunately looks… not like that. The thing is: the reviewer being a reviewer isn’t what the issue is. The issue is giving food not signed off by her boss to a customer. She'd have never gotten away with that at the places where she was before. Putting the dish out is going rogue, regardless of who she gives it to. It’s not a team move. If Carmy called in her old bosses for back up, she calls in his potential new customers. Eek. EEK.

Sydney desperately tries to get Ebra to shush, to no avail

(extremely funny work from Ayo, but also he’s pissed, and she either already knows it, or already antipates it – it’s hard to get a read on how long they’ve been in and when they learnt about the review)

‘river of brine, huh?’

Carmy, you little snark!!! This is very much his wheelhouse of expressing displeasure, he loves a little jab to the emotional solar plexus. My reading of his line is that what the reviewer tried and what Carmy tried are different, because if it had a ribbon of brine in it, I think that means that there was enough acid. Syd has two dishes, and she’s specific about Carmy trying one and not the other, so my reading here is that Carmy’s POV is not only did a dish go out of my kitchen without my sign off, but it was different from the dish I was given to try. Wince. Wince, wince, wince.

Sydney and Carmy have a fucking excruciating conversation.

Just the worst.

Carmy is not happy, but feels unable to voice this in a way that seems reasonable: he’s busy and stressed about to-gos, he hasn’t moved past the unreasonable feelings of resentment and annoyance to the clarity which enables you to articulate how you feel and why, and because Syd’s gamble paid off! It’s a net positive for the restaurant so it feels counterintuitive to reprimand her, but there is a conversation they need to have. He really does not want to have this conflict, because it’s complicated, and is, like most big blow outs over something small, about so much more than a plate of risotto. He breezes over the conversation, but you can’t start with that ribbon of brine opener and then tell me shit’s not weird.

Compare this to Brigade, when Sydney is asked what’s up, and she is brave enough and vulnerable enough to be like – here are the things that weren’t OK, here are my expectations, here are my boundaries.

On the other side of the conversation, Sydney knows that she has slipped across a slightly odd boundary, but doesn’t acknowledge this. It’s good he liked it! All’s well that ends well. Right? RIGHT? But if he hadn’t? Very different conversation. It doesn’t matter who he is! He could have been anyone - someone that left a weird Instagram comment later, or someone who didn’t finish the meal and complained. Whatever the case may be, giving it to him unofficially was not an act of partnership, or listening, even if the initial communication was shitty.

She knows she’s overstepped, but she doesn’t apologise and doesn’t acknowledge the specifics of what she’s done wrong, because she does not want to have the conflict that could come out of this either. She seeks affirmations that they are OK rather than trying to actually find out how Carmy feels and why, because at this point she doesn’t really want to hear it. She is seeking this conversation out 20 minutes before open! It’s not the time for a thorny, complex discussion.

Compare this to Brigade. Carmy knows Sydney is pissed, and makes the effort to speak to her, in private, armed with the peace offering of Ebra’s Suqaar. He is very careful in that conversation to ask open questions (‘what’s going on with you? Say more?’) that enable her to respond honestly. He persists despite her having her walls up around the fact that she’s pissed. Sydney does not do this. The power dynamic makes it hard, but still. If she wants the connection needed to power reconciliation, that bravery needs to be in play.

are you sure we can't just power through this with sexual tension?

Sweeps congratulates her and tells her she’ll have to tell her dad

Hope Mr Adamu got a newspaper clipping!

Carmy says the sandwiches are totally different and the reviewer is a fucking hack. Syd looks sad.

This moment is why I opened this essay talking about veal stock. We are back in a moment with a gap between what has been said, and what has been heard. The reviewer said the sandwiches were delicious as ever. That’s not a criticism at all! These are not words that justify being called a hack! Carmy is pissed because the reviewer says they are delicious and they always have been, that Carmy has not improved on the staple that was there before him.

And that shit hurts his ego!

His whole thing was going off to learn ‘how to be better than mom and dad’s piece of shit’. We know he’s changed a bunch of things about the sandwiches. In Hands, Sydney mentions that they’ve switched to market produce, which I’m sure is not unrelated to Richie’s ‘You’ve been here for two weeks and we’ve had money problems for two weeks’ in System. In Carmy’s time there, the bread’s changed, the method for cooking the beef has changed, the way they braise onions has changed.

To that customer? Delicious as ever.It’s not a dismissal, or an insult. It is a reminder that Carmy didn’t have to leave, and go through all he went through, that there was delicious food and skills to be learned and refined without it. We know Michael was a talented chef. Even now, with all of where he’s been, Carmy cannot surpass him or his memory.

The person that does surpass that? Is Sydney. With food his palate did not deem good enough! Sydney who has not had to leave Chicago and her family. Sydney who has found a way to be creatively free, even at The Beef, in ways that Carmy has not really been able to, because his primary concern has to be money. There is understandable resentment here. But there is competition to the way Carmy cooks, something to prove, someone to smoke. There are reasonable feelings here, but some of them are really ugly, too.

Tina describes Syd as Jeff’s friend

This is a strange little line – because we know that Tina respects Syd as a chef at this point, and she doubles down on it later when she asks Syd to teach Louis skills, like she herself has been taught. So why’s it there? My feeling is that it’s there to remind the audience of what Syd and Carmy’s relationship is usually like. I wouldn’t call it friendship, I think they operate in a weird place that defies labels, but they have this synergy which drives the business. Tina evoking that in this moment draws attention to the fact that they are not in that space right now.

He's just got a very sweet face, it's hard for me to believe he's in trouble at school

Richie has a loud, performative conversation with Carmy about many things, but for the purpose of this section, he states that they don’t do risotto, asks if they’re going to, and Carmy definitively states that ‘no, they’re not going to do that’ he also repeats Syd’s phrasing that it was ‘an accident’

She stabbed the wrong ass if you ask me!

Nah, but for real, this is nasty work. I’m gonna come back to it in the next (penultimate!) bit of writing about the Beef, the Bear, Richie & Michael, Syd & Carmy. For now, I will simply say that Carmy is doing up major pass agg here, and it’s nasty to watch. He’s really, really unhappy with her, and he’s struggling to hold it in, so it’s coming out in unhelpful and unpleasant ways that feel like humiliations in front of the whole team, and punishment.

There are really valid reasons for Carmy to be annoyed and to not want to talk about it right now. The problem is that If you don’t create a pressure valve you take responsibility for, you will end up a) exploding instead (lol) and/or b) releasing that frustration in unhelpful and harmful ways.

They move towards this with their ASL sorry in Season Two. But here, Carmy says and implies a bunch of things to Richie that he needed to say explicitly to Syd two episodes ago, and two minutes ago: that he has no intention of putting risotto on the menu, and that he thinks her saying it was an accident was bullshit. He wants Syd to know it’s not OK without the hard, painful work of having to engage in conflict with her. It’s shitty.

Sweet Louis asks what a ribbon of brine is

He seems like a good boy, bring him back!

A BUNCH OF STUFF THAT I WILL WRITE ABOUT NEXT TIME HAPPENS

Richie, Syd and Carmy, it’s delicious (a nightmare).

Syd attempts a second conversation with Carmy – having vented some frustration at Richie, and seeing how her workload is piling up and becoming untenable, she is much more open here. Carmy is not.

She’s blunt – we’re not on the same page. Carmy lies and deflects – we’re good, let’s get through the shift. He has his hands on his hips, with as much of his body turned away from her as possible, during this conversation, and walks off half way through it. Even if everything had gone right, this shift would have been a nightmare for Syd.

Everything is awesome!

The penultimate mention of the risotto is here. There is very little I can say that has not been brilliantly said by eatandsleepwell here - https://www.tumblr.com/hourglassfish/726487509540962304/eatandsleepwell-melonatures-this-one-second?source=share so I’m gonna link it.

That’s the last we hear of risotto for now, other than a quick reference to Syd as an arrogant and condescending ribbon of brine from Richie later. It doesn’t turn up on the tasting menu at the Bear, where it defo feels like a riff on risotto could have replaced one of their pasta dishes. That switch from rice to pasta feels pointed.

Spaghetti

Let’s treat The Beef as a character. If Sydney’s ingredient motif is veal stock, then The Beef’s is that family spaghetti.

Cheap and simple. Fucking delicious. Makes no sense and shouldn’t work, but was somehow the best seller on the menu. Distinctively Italian. Stuffed full of drug money(!). Always, always presented at the table with love, like a gift. You can elevate it if you want, but the fact of the matter is that even at its very best, it’s only gonna hit so hard cus it reminds you of simpler times, like the ratatouille (that is not a ratatouille!) from the movie Ratatouille.

Carmy rejects that meal at the top of the series. It ‘doesn’t make sense on the menu’, so he doesn’t care that people loved it. So far, so EMP. When he starts to cook it in episode one, it feels like a relenting to Richie’s bullying, and him throwing WHAT WE NOW KNOW WAS PROBABLY A FEW THOUSAND DOLLARS in the bin at the end of the episode feels like this exhilarating rejection of mediocrity. They change the lines for System, but in the pilot, Carmy literally cannot make the spaghetti, that last lesson from Michael is a real missing puzzle piece.

In Braciole, when he gets the recipe, he goes to cook it, for family. It’s really nice, that scene, feels comparable to Sydney making omelette. It’s quiet, and Carmy seems content, if wistful. The pork instead of beef panic of earlier is put to the side for now. The previous day, Carmy has gone to Al-Anon and confessed, unburdened himself. Then followed two quiet days and a blue hued night of atonement: he reaffirmed his commitment to Richie, paying his bail and keeping watch all night, gave Tina the night off, apologised to Marcus and acknowledged that his behaviour towards Sydney wasn’t acceptable, as well as speaking to her about her dish, like an adult. Carmy has to do all of this before he finds the money, before he gets the validation that he’s really longing for from his brother.

JAW getting his Emmy, his Golden Globe, his SAG Award, his Bafta, his future Oscar Winning role.

If The Bear at its core is about grief, and the void that Michael’s death leaves, then one of the big journeys of Season One is the subsequent death of the Beef, ready for its rebirth as The Bear in the following season. Review is the short sharp stab to the gut, of Sydney leaving, and taking any hope that it can be reformed as is, with her work. I don’t think the nature of a puncture wound, and the shortness of that episode are unrelated.

Braciole is more of a death rattle: Jimmy’s debt keeping them trapped in shitty work they don’t want to do, situations that spiral out of control and descend into violence, their parachute turned to bail money. But Michael wanted more for his brother than that, and he has left him a foundation. He does not have to burn the place down, there need not be smoke and hellfire. There’s another avenue for rebirth, one where ‘set this place on fire’ does not have to mean an insurance scam, but instead can mean an ignition of all their ambition and dreams.

To get there there has to be an ego death first, a moment of hubris that gets our protagonists fresh, and clean, so they can move to the new. Sydney sees and experiences the worst of herself (more on this in the final part!). Richie gets stabbed (more on this in the next part).

Carmy? Carmy has to encountera crisis where not only could his training not save him but many of the lessons he learnt while he was away and his reasons for going in the first place actively made the situation worse, and those that had faith in him and his preferred system turned away from him, deeply hurt. His ego gets in the way of connection, and it shatters the partnership that he needs to make it all work. He is clinging to old ways of being that has not served him, but he needs to move forward into what is new. And he does.

Well.

He tries.

SMDH

WHEW

Another long one, sorry fam. I’m almost there though. Am I sorry? No, I’m grateful if you read it, and I hope you enjoyed it.

I hope I’m pulling this together coherently, that I’m showing a sort of throughline to the way I view Episode 7. I don’t think Sydney is perfect! I do think her walking out is narratively and politically (the show wants better for the workplaces its drawn from) necessary, and I hate, hate, hate the simplification of that decision to ‘he shouted at her so she bailed’. Please, you can’t think this show is well written and think her decision is as simple as that, it doesn’t make sense. That exit is crafted so that it is inevitable, there is a movie’s worth of build up to it.

We’re looking at Richie, Syd and Carmy next time, fam. I am trying so hard to cut it down cus it’s currently sat at 15,000 words, but I’m gonna try really hard to edit down, OK? I’m gonna try really hard.

I can’t respond but I value reblogs and comments so much!

This is part of a five part series! You can find the rest here:

Expect More: Syd and Carmy's relationship,

I know you'll be listening: Marcus, McDonald's and Freedom

Risottogate

Hiring New Fucking Broads: Syd, Richie and conflict;

"That's Not You" The Moment Syd Walks Out

#the bear #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #the bear meta

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demodraws0606 · 6 months

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Hot take but I kinda wish people would stop taking q!BBH's words in the most charitable way possible and realise that he has said outright that he thinks very carefully about what he says to people for his own benefit.

q!BBH has said outright that he wants to appear harmless to other people.

I mostly see this happen when he talks with q!Tina and q!Bagi.

Things like him saying saying things like :

"I've been torturing myself to get my kids back"

"I thought kidnapping would solve all my problems but it didn't"

Sure you can think he is being honest here but there is more than enough proof to show that he is kinda twisting the truth here.

The ladder one definitely isn't fully true as when he was interrogated by Fred about the kidnapping, he said that it was all "part of the plan". Clearly him kidnapping Ron or even getting potentially attached to him wasn't an issue. In fact when he states hitches in his plan he only cites the Egg and Forever's disappearance.

The torture thing as well, while most likely 60 pourcent true is again q!BBH kind of twisting the truth to his own benefit.

Again it makes it sound like q!BBH's goal is only to bring back the eggs and that he has no exterior motives which we know isn't true. It also makes the Soul Vultures look like it was simply self harm/accident which we know he clearly needed them for something.

Both of these things have something in common...they both serve to make q!BBH more sympathetic/harmless. That most of his actions are emotional or purely caused by grief which...it probably isn't. There is definitely some premeditated action here especially when he said he had this plan even Before the Eggs disappeared.

Yet again I would like to note that q!BBH has never mentioned torturing a worker even Once. At best he slightly hinted towards it with q!Cellbit.

We saw him use that technic before towards Fred and Tubbo, he is just a grieving parent and he was just being aggressive.

I just feel like all of this is underestimating what q!BBH said to us. Everything is connected and while we don't know how far the puppet strings go they definitely go farther than we think.

I'm not discouraging people from loving q!BBH's friendship with q!Tina and q!Bagi but I'm just saying that people need to be a bit more careful with what q!BBH says.

#qsmp #bbh #badboyhalo #q!bbh #q!badboyhalo #i don't think this is fandom neg even if i am a little bit frustrated #people are just a little too keen on trusting what this man says when again he stated how careful he is being with his words

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qprstobin · 1 year

Text

home back to you - pt 1

So my friends knew this was coming - finally posting the first part of the Steve/tommy/carol post S2 fic ❤️

Summary:

Steve’s fight with Billy is exactly the kick in the pants Tommy (and Carol) need to make amends with Steve. Now if only Steve and his weird security detail full of bratty middle schoolers made it easier to talk to him. The Steve/Tommy/Carol post-s2 fic that no one has been asking for but me <3

AO3 Link | Pt. 2

Minor tw: some ableist language, tommy badmouthing Jonathan and Nancy (tho this is NOT a bashing fic), the S2 shower scene being weird as hell

Tommy thought that Billy Hargrove was the best thing to happen to Hawkins High since Steve Harrington ditched his throne (and Tommy and Carol along with it).

Billy was wild in a way that was hard to match, sending fire thrumming through Tommy’s veins and scorching the hole that Steve had left behind. He was making things exciting again, shaking up the social hierarchy in a way that Tommy felt (or well, Carol pointed out) he could use to his advantage. It didn’t take long for the two of them to be practically attached at the hip, reminding him of earlier, easier days.

(Days he was trying hard to forget.)

A part of him was also watching how Billy circled Ste- Harrington, like a hawk circling its prey, reminding him of the nature documentaries he liked to watch when he was sick. It would worry him, maybe, the look in Billy’s eyes, if he wasn’t hoping this would be the thing that truly unseated Steve. That made him return to normal, drop Wheeler and come crawling back to him and Carol.

(He thought that Steve would’ve broken up with Nancy months ago, they’d never fought for this long before-)

Tommy came to regret that sentiment after everything played out.

It started at practice – well, if Tommy was being honest with himself (which he was trying to get better at, with mixed results), it likely started from the first moment that Billy laid his ice blue eyes on Harrington, that night at Tina’s party.

He hadn’t noticed it then, not as drunk as he was pretending to be but drunker than he really meant to be, thrumming with adrenaline (and something that felt strangely like attraction, though, that didn’t really make any sense) as Billy in one fatal blow, beat Steve’s record and became the new Keg King.

Tommy had felt bad about how excited he was, knowing that Steve, Carol, and him had worked hard to learn how to hold their liquor. That didn’t stop the petty part of him from being happy about it.

Not only was the new kid already putting Harrington in his place, maybe this would be the thing that caused Steve to turn (his) their way again. Cause him to care about his reputation a little more. He’d worked so hard for it – they all had – he didn’t get how he could just drop it so easily.

(How he could drop them so easily.)

Tommy was so sure this was the first step in finally pulling Steve’s head out of his ass – (show him that he and Carol didn’t need him) – that he introduced Billy to him that night.

Like he said, he didn’t realize it then, but that was the real start of it.

The start as he remembered it was at basketball practice the next day.

Billy was… competitive with Steve on the court.

Which, of course he was, Ste- Harrington managed to stay aloft in the social hierarchy, despite dropping all of his actual friends because of his place on the basketball team.

Basketball was the biggest sport in the school, in the county, and not just because everyone around was a fan of the Hoosiers, though that definitely played a part. Back when they were still sophomores, Tommy and Steve had helped lead the school to its first championship in years.

Steve shot the winning shot and got the keg king title at the after party, in one fell swoop securing his place not only in the Hawkins history books but also his spot at the top of the high school’s food chain for the rest of his high school career.

The next year they made him captain, and Harrington was good at being captain. Though he spent most of his time with Wheeler and even Byers (which, really? The guy that his almost-girlfriend cheated on him with? He was preferable to Tommy and Carol? His best friends since grade school?) he still made sure to dedicate time to the team, both on and off the court. And the team respected him for that.

(Tommy had to respect him for that, too. Even if it wasn’t fair that the only time Tommy got St- Harrington was when they were hanging out as a team.)

If Billy could unseat Steve on the court and with the team, his reign would be all but guaranteed. So, it made some sort of sense to Tommy as he watched Billy push their captain around, get in his face, yell at him to ‘plant his feet’. Tommy could see that Harrington wasn’t at his best, almost seeming hungover.

Thing was, despite how gone Tommy himself was, he knew that Steve hadn’t drank much that night. Aside from the fact that losing his Keg King title wasn’t enough to lure him into doing his own keg stand, he’s pretty sure he saw Wheeler hitting the punch bowl more than Stev- Harrington was. Especially when it led to a loud argument in Tina’s bathroom.

Even if he had been blackout drunk, Tommy would be able to tell when Steve was trying not to cry.

(He’d have to ask Carol later if it was possible to be emotionally hungover.)

The predatorial posturing was interrupted by Wheeler appearing at the door. Normally, it wouldn’t be odd to see her at practice. Tommy had seen her working on homework (gross) on the bleachers before, and even would occasionally pop in when doing a story for the school paper, but she had never interrupted like this before, with frustration visibly leaking off of her.

Ste- Harrington sighed and followed her out, waving to the coach. For once, he didn’t look like he was literally walking on air when approaching her.

“That Harrington’s girl?” Billy asked, sliding to a controlled stop next to Tommy.

He responded without thinking, “Not sure she will be after today.”

Billy threw his head back and let out a mocking laugh. Tommy flushed as he watched the sweat from Billy’s mullet trickle down his chest. He forced himself to look away as Coach blew the whistle.

–

Two days later Tommy got his confirmation.

“Wheeler isn’t here today, again,” Carol said, appearing beside his locker as he closed the door. He didn’t jump, used to his girlfriend appearing out of nowhere. “And you’ll never guess who else is missing.”

Tommy’s mouth dropped.

“No.”

“That fucking creep, Byers.”

Seemed like Tommy had been right. Steve and Wheeler had broken up.

(If they hadn’t yet, Steve sure wasn’t going to take her back this time. Talk about turning into your parents-)

He felt suddenly energized, riding on a high that carried him all the way through to afternoon practice. Especially with the way Billy’s eyes lit up at the little piece of gossip.

He decided to follow Billy’s lead on this, waiting for him to bring it up to Harrington. During practice, he mostly shoved the other around, taunting him and generally running circles around him. Tommy could tell that Harrington’s head still wasn’t in the game, and it reflected on the rest of his scrimmage team. They trounced them.

(Tommy almost felt bad about it, but the bitter part of him didn’t.)

Coach pulled Steve aside, probably to try and figure out ‘what the hell was up with him’, and the rest if the team hit the showers. Tommy and Billy both drew the short stick, getting some of the last shower slots, which was… not a problem exactly.

Tommy preferred to shower last, normally taking a little extra time to shoot hoops and shoot the shit. The less time spent in the locker room around his naked teammates, the better. Why would he want to spend time around a bunch of naked guys, anyway? Though, it was more time spent loitering around in his gross clothes than he really wanted.

Anyway, he wasn’t sure why he felt so uneasy about it.

Steve (Harrington dammit) still wasn’t done talking to the Coach by the time Tommy and Billy were finally able to get under that sweet, freezing water. He lifted his chin up towards the spray, savoring the feeling, letting it center him. His eyes were clenched shut, so he didn’t get soap in them.

(Not for any other reason at all.)

Right as he was ready to get out, Steve finally entered the showers. Tommy’s eyes popped open just in time to see the smirk crawl across Billy’s face.

“Don’t sweat it, Harrington,” he said, wiping water from his face as he stared intensely at their captain. “Today’s just not your day, man.”

“Yeah, not your week,” Tommy was quick to add on, eager to rub his newfound knowledge in his face. “You and the princess break up for one day, and she’s already running off with the school Creep.” He leaned around the shower pole to make eye contact with Steve.

Steve just stared at him, a note of confusion on his face before his eyes flickered down to his fancy soap impatiently. Surprise and glee flooded through Tommy.

“Oh shit, you don’t know,” he said, unable to keep his grin from growing. Steve continued with his routine, trying to ignore him. “Jonathan and the princess skipped yesterday. Still haven’t shown.”

His former best friend was refusing to look at him, but Tommy could see the way his mouth had tightened. He leaned against the pole, as close as he would allow himself to get in that moment.

“But that must just be a coincidence, right?”

Steve glanced at him before he grabbed his even fancier shampoo. The brief moment of eye contact was almost too much for Tommy. Steve kept his expression cold and uncaring, but Tommy knew him well enough still, could see the pinch around his eyes. The distaste. They were standing too close.

Tommy couldn’t stop the laughter that burst out of him, one part mocking, the other veering into hysterics, and turned away to grab his towel.

He didn’t really pay attention to what Billy said after that, trying to get his head on straight, but he couldn’t miss the way Billy’s mouth wrapped around the words “pretty boy”.

–

The town had an eerie feeling hanging over it that weekend.

He stayed over at Carol’s house all three nights. It was only meant to be one or two, but then both of her parents got called into work because of some sort of weird flu or food poisoning or whatever was going around.

Neither of them were fans of sleeping alone, though neither of them would admit it.

(Not that they really needed to admit it, after knowing each other this long, dating for this long. They didn’t need to waste time on pointless conversation.)

A pack of wild dogs seemed to be roaming through the woods, filling it with feral sounding snarls and leaving trails of debris everywhere. Tommy thought it was odd how they seemed to come out of nowhere, but it wasn’t uncommon for people to ditch animals on the side of the road, so didn’t give it too much thought.

Come Monday morning, the strangeness continued when Billy pulled up to school quieter than normal, rage hanging from his shoulders. His little sister wasn’t in the car with him for once, but Tommy just figured she was sick or something. He didn’t completely understand their family dynamic, honestly.

“Man, what happened to your face?” he exclaimed in surprise once the other man drew closer.

Vicki, who had been chatting with Carol, gasped dramatically and ran up to him, clucking her tongue and simpering at him. Billy put up with it, but didn’t have as heated of a smile to give her as he normally did, to her agitation.

“Had to teach someone a lesson,” he grunted, throwing his around her as something of a consolation. She huffed a little but snuggled up to him anyway, accepting the unspoken apology.

Privately, Tommy thought that it looked like someone had taught Billy the lesson, not the other way around. He wondered if it was Steve, and was privately impressed. He didn’t know Steve had it in him to go after someone like that, but maybe he’d been right. Maybe Wheeler ditching him was the kick in the pants he’d needed all along.

Tommy couldn’t wait to see what he might do, might say, when he got to school that day.

But Steve wasn’t at school that day, he didn’t show up to school that entire week.

He would’ve been worried, but Steve didn’t need him to worry about him anymore. He’d made that clear.

(Tommy was worried anyway.)

That week, he distracted himself by spending time with Billy. There was a sense of unease around the man at all times, but it lessened slightly as the week went on. Tommy could tell that he was fixating on him a little bit, more than he had with anyone other than Carol (or Steve) in ages.

Carol thought the whole thing was funny, giggling with Vicki and Nicole over milkshakes as Tommy, Billy, and whatever other members of the basketball team they dragged along with them were their normal rowdy selves. She knew how Tommy could get – had known him since he moved to this god forsaken town.

All that to say, he was feeling pretty good, despite the conspicuous absence of Harrington at their practices.

That peace was shattered the day he came back.

Tommy didn’t actually see Steve during the actual school day on Monday, but he did see the ripples that were sent through the student body. Whispers filled the halls, but cut off abruptly when Billy walked through them.

Carol’s lips were pinched at lunch, but she refused to tell him why. Wanted more information before she told him. She hated not having the full picture.

Looking back, it wouldn’t have mattered if she had told him. Nothing would have prepared him for seeing Steve that day.

Tommy stopped short when he saw Ste- Harring- Steve shuffling out of Coach’s office that afternoon. He had sunglasses on, but they couldn’t hide the rainbow mosaic on his face, a mix of purples and blues and yellows and greens – bruises all in different stages of healing. He looked like he’d been run over by a truck.

Tommy felt like he’d been hit by a truck. What the hell had happened?

Billy wouldn’t have done that, would he?

“Steve?” he called out, unable to stop himself from saying something. Ignoring the fact that that was the first time he had called Steve by his first name in literal months. He wasn’t really concerned with that right now, not trying to hide how much he cared. Not when Steve’s face looked like that.

Steve turned, his hair flopping limply. It was obvious he had done something to it, but not much. He never let it get this… lusterless in public. His face scrunched up, obviously squinting despite the sunglasses.

With a sigh that seemed to be masking a tired groan, Steve said, “I’m not in the mood, Hagan.”

Tommy knew getting last-named shouldn’t hurt (he and Steve had been doing it for months at this point, wielding it like a weapon every time they bothered to talk to each other), but it did.

“What happened to your face?” he asked, pushing down the hurt and unconsciously echoing the same question he asked Billy the week before.

“What do you think?” Steve scoffed, tossing his head back like he always did when rolling his eyes. This seemed to be a bad idea, since he immediately rocked back forward with a wince. “Your new best friend broke a plate over my head.”

Tommy reared back. “He did what?”

“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” he said, sounding incredibly bitter. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Probably didn’t want to admit that the only reason he wasn’t arrested for being a fucking psycho is because Hopper had other things to worry about.”

There seemed to be a strange ringing sound echoing through the halls, and it confused Tommy until he realized it was just his ears.

Billy did that?

Tommy didn’t want to believe it, not only because it just didn’t make sense (it made perfect sense, Billy had always seemed a little off to Tommy but he was too obsessed with him to care-) but because this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

People got into petty fights all the time and normally no one was that fucked up at the end of it. A couple of bruises, maybe a broken nose or a black eye, something for the girls to coo over and for other guys to be subtly impressed by, knowing that guy was a guy that shouldn’t be messed with. The worst fight he’d seen happen was when Creepy Byers lost his shit on Steve the year before.

(Tommy wondered for a second what it was about Steve that made guys lose their gourd over him, but shoved that thought out of his mind.)

This- this wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

This wasn’t what he wanted.

Steve seemed to take his shocked silence for some sort of answer, because he sighed quietly to himself.

“It’s like talking to a brick wall, I swear,” he said, walking past him with a hand on his temple, massaging around the bandage he was only now noticing.

He moved aside to let him pass automatically, not sure how to get his mouth working again. Steve started towards the entrance, but paused suddenly, turning to call one last thing to his former best friend.

“Be careful around Billy, Tommy,” he said, using his first name for the first time in a year. “He’s more dangerous than you think he is.”

Pt. 2

#stommy #stomarol #steve/tommy/carol #steve harrington #tommy hagan #carol perkins #stranger things #st fic rec #my writing #writing tag #mean girl trio #mean girl trio au

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