#🤍: the bear
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after midnight | carmen berzatto x reader
summary: chicago is expensive, okay? so you pick up a job outside of the restaurant which just so happens to involve your camera. everything's fine until richie stumbles upon the website and shares it with camry.
contents: perv!carmy, male & female masturbation, sex toys, dirty talk, cam sex, slight dub-con kinda if you look for it. carmy’s honestly a wreck. mentions of unprotected sex, choking, oral sex, overstimulation. please note!! no formal intercourse takes place yet but it's cuming coming but ya girl wants a slow burn
reader description: she/her pronouns, there is semi a hair scene but i use no real descriptors so still vague!
word count: basically 3.9k
author notes: first fic in a year baby and boy did i lose the plot!! filth!! also i sure love saying fuck in this so enjoy that
part two
★–————————–
Richie’s voice is annoying. It echos, ricochets off the walls, and can’t be contained by even the highest quality of sound proofing. Which is why, at 8 in the morning, Carmen’s already considering having to take Excedrin as Richie bursts through the doors.
“Carmy, Cousin, you’re never gonna fuckin’ believe what I found last night.” He’s out of breath after running in, fumbling around with his phone in a rush to pull something up. He’d spent all night contemplating if he texted Carmen or waited to show him in person. Ultimately the urge to see his reaction won but that didn’t stop Richie from waking up before his alarm out of excitement. “Listen, we’re both grown ass men so I’m gonna say it -“ he’s glancing around to make sure they’re alone, “- So I’m laying there and jerkin’ my shit, right?”
Carmen’s wincing, pinching the bridge of his nose and contemplating every decision that brought him back to Chicago.
“Dude, fuck off. I don’t wanna hear -“ Richie tsks, cutting him off.
“Nah, shut the fuck up because you wanna hear this. In fact, you’re gonna wanna fall to your knees and kiss my shoes and praise my ass as a thank you for finding this.”
He’s holding up his phone, an iPhone 8 he refuses to upgrade, and illuminated on the screen is a video of you. You, on your knees, in lingerie. You, with your fingers dragging down your chest, across the lace that covers your breasts. Your head falls back as you run your thumbs across your nipples. A sound so angelic coming from your lips that Carmen starts to understand why people spend so much time at Church. He’s convinced you’re hand carved by God, or Buddha, or whatever might be up there.
Carmy’s instantly feeling a rush of heat across his chest and his cheeks as he takes the sight of you in. It feels wrong but at the same time the coiling in his stomach feels so good he can’t look away quite yet. “Why the…” He’s cut off by a whine coming from Richie’s speaker as you keep teasing yourself. His brain is frying for a second as he tries to focus on finishing his sentence. “How the hell did you find this?”
“Listen, sometimes I get bored on the same ole sites, okay? Clicked an ad to see who was live and ended up here. Now I stopped watching, obviously, out of respect but this? I’ve known you long enough to know when you gotta thing for someone and you’re not gonna act on it. Also, I caught you staring at her ass as she filled the deep freeze the other night. Kinda gave it away. So this is the way you can still get some pussy while being a fuckin’ pussy.” Richie’s punching the air, clearly proud of himself.
Carmy’s smacking him upside the head, his body now torn between lust and annoyance. “Watch your mouth, alright? That is so fucked, Richie. Put that shit anyway and I better not see you tell a single other person this exists.”
And yeah, he took note of your screen name before he walked away. Don’t judge him.
———★–————————–
Look - There have been a lot of times in his life where Carmen hasn’t been proud of himself. But settling back into bed, hooking his thumbs on the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down to rest under his balls? Yeah, he’s not proud to say the least. After seeing even just the glimpse of you this morning though it’s been all he could think about. The. Whole. Fucking. Day. He watched out of the corner of his eye while you bent over the line to scrub down the wall behind your station tonight. Burning to memory the way your ass just slightly jiggled from the aggressive motion of wiping down the surface. A soft grunt coming from you as you reach for something just a little too high. He finally snapped out of it when the smell of the chemicals he sprayed down on his own surface got a little too strong and refocused.
He wasn’t proud when he ran to the restroom and contemplated just jacking off over the toilet to get some relief. You were clouding his brain, only the rush of the evening giving him some small relief.
You seemed vocal in the small clip he saw. He’s wondering if you would have asked him to cum for you. Would you think it’s a waste that he’s cumming down the drain instead of covering your ass with it? Filling your mouth and making you swallow every drop around him? Or, Jesus Christ, would you wrap your legs around his waist and beg him not to pull out?
So yeah. Carmy’s had quite the fucking day to say the least.
He’s finally home and running straight to bed. His stuff dropped in a heap by the front door and was easily forgotten. Throwing himself back onto the mattress after ripping off his shirt and his pants. Left just groaning into the empty room, his cock twitching at the thought of you. Your page has been sitting on an Incognito tab all day and it’s finally, finally being loaded up. This feels like an invasion of privacy in a way but Carmen can’t quite think logically with how heavy his balls feel and how painfully hard he is. There’s not much time to spare so he clicks the first video you’ve uploaded that he can.
And there you are.
Sitting in the middle of a big bed and rubbing your hands along your thighs, smiling at the camera. His heart is twitching, cock is twitching, everything is fucking twitching. And you’re just sitting there, licking your lips and sliding your hands under the thin material of some weird lace one piece he wants to rip off.
“Hi there, Pretty Boy.” Your voice is music to his ears and Carmy can’t take it any longer. His fist is wrapping around his cock, a broken moan filling the room as he finally gets some relief. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home all day.”
Sue him, but he’s skipping ahead a little. There’s not much time until he cums and he needs to see you. All of you. He’s gripping his phone with one hand, bringing the other that’s around his cock up to his mouth to spit in. His thumb is haphazardly trying to keep the phone balanced while scrubbing through the video until he thinks he’s at a good spot. You’re laid back now, thighs spread for the camera and pussy on display. Carmen’s muttering to himself about how gorgeous you are, longing to tell you in person. You’re holding this royal blue dildo in your hands that’s suddenly his biggest enemy. He deserves to be there, not this stupid, useless chuck of silicone. There’s a whimper from the speaker as you take the toy and slide it along yourself, tapping it twice against your clit. “Fuck, I need you.”
Fuckin’ hell does he needs you too.
His fist is clamped around his dick once again, fucking his hips up into the the slick, tight grip. You’re still teasing yourself by sticking just the head of the dildo in before gasping and pulling it back out. “Please, Baby. I need you so bad, need to come for you.” His brain is breaking. An animalistic urge taking over to fuck you until you can’t move, can’t think, just a blubbering mess begging him for more. Without warning you push the dildo all the way in, throwing your head back with a pleasured scream.
Carmy gasps, hips sputtering and losing their rhythm as he watches you fuck yourself. He’s stroking himself at the same pace you’re moving the dildo, imaging it’s you he’s fucking into. Picturing you laid under him, your breasts covered in hickies because he hates the idea of these… Perverts watching you get off. He wants to mark you, claim you as his. His balls are tightening and he can’t think of the last time he came this quick. It’s almost embarrassing - What are you doing to him?
Your free hand comes up to shove two fingers in your mouth, lewdly sucking them for the camera. The sucking noise now accompanying the wet, addictive sounds of your pussy being fucked. Carmen whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, and twists his wrist over his cock to get a little more friction. Your voice hits him once again as you slide your wet fingers out of your mouth and down your throat. “Oh fuck I’m so close. So, so close. Are you close, Baby? Want you to come with me.” You’re lightly choking yourself, a whining mess.
Carmy’s aware he’s talking to an empty room but he can’t stop himself. “Fuck, oh fuck. Gonna come for you.” And his stomach coils, hips sputter, the phone falling to the bed as he has to let go of it as his orgasm washes over him. He’s slack jaw, warm cum landing on his chest and the sounds of you finishing at the same time ringing out from his phone.
Oh he’s so fucked.
————–——★–————
Carmy slept well for once in his life. His orgasm lulling his body to sleep, dreams filled of you. How beautiful you look sucking his cock. The way you must sound while he eats you out. And he takes his time in his dream. Tongue dragging between your folds as his rough hands hold your hips in place. You’re powerless, made to lay back and let him eat you out for his own pleasure. Tongue circling around your clit but he waits until you’re close to tears to stop teasing. He’d praise you. “Look how fucking wet you are, Princess. You’re already getting the bed wet, aren’t you? Gonna have to lick you for hours to get you all cleaned up. Can you say please, huh? Ask me to suck on your clit, Baby. You know you need it.”
He woke up hard and overstimulated, rolling over onto his stomach and pathetically dragging his hips against the warm bed to get some much needed friction along his cock. Carmy’s telling himself how pathetic this is and forcing himself to push off the bed and get into the shower before he’s late.
Yes, he jacked off in the shower before work.
He had to.
Carmy can’t decide if it’s heaven or hell when he walks in to see you standing in the kitchen.
You’re on your tiptoes, balancing haphazardly as you’re reaching up to change the light. There’s a wobbly step stool under you. Everyone keeps saying it needs to be replaced but it continues to live on. Your face is scrunching up in concentration. Carmy’s chuckling at the sight and ignoring the way he feels his balls tug at the sight of you. “What’re you doing there, Chef?”
You huff in annoyance, finally untwisting the light cover from the ceiling. “Damn light went out right as I started veggie prep. Hate to be a bother but will you come spot me while I’m up on this thing? I’ve seen Fak bust his ass one too many times to trust it.”
Carmy can’t verbally respond at first, instead stalking over to stand next to you. His hand comes up to cup the back of your knee and he’s lying to himself saying it’s for your own safety. To keep you balanced. “Yea well something tells me you’re less clumsy than Fak. I’ve seen that guy fall over while just standing still.”
And you laugh.
You laugh. At him. At his joke. He, Carmen Berzatto, made you laugh. The sound filling his ears and now his damn heart and balls are both reacting to you and what the hell is he supposed to do with all these emotions.
“Don’t distract me up here, Chef.” He doesn’t mind taking commands from you. Silently reaching up to hold the light fixture you’re passing him as you change gears to switch out the lightbulbs now.
And maybe his eyes are wandering around the kitchen to see who else might catch a glimpse of you two together. Everyone who’s in so far is honed in on their prep task and Carmy thanks God that Richie hasn’t shown up yet today.
He’s become quite faithful since he started falling for you it seems.
It happens, by chance, that you feel a little unsteady and Carmen tightens his grip on the back of your leg. Fingers digging into your soft skin. He’s looking down at the stool to make sure it’s level before looking up to take in the sight that is his hand around your leg.
And he stops looking there.
Okay fine that’s a fucking lie - he’s looking up. Eyes trailing up your thighs, following along the curve of your ass. When you have to lean forward just slightly to twist in the light cover he’s convinced he can see the outline of your pussy through the thin material of your leggings. He’s contemplating his options - If he could, would he lean in and lick over the outline? His warm mouth teasing you through your leggings. Through your underwear. Are you wearing underwear? He’s torn between picturing you with or without them.
Or would he slide his hand up your leg, palming your thigh as he goes. Cupping over you and dragging his middle finger across the shape of you. Memorizing the feeling. Would you whine? Grind down against his hand? He doesn’t think you’d shoo his touch away.
God he just knows you’re a needy little thing.
He wonders what it would feel like for you to lick your own wetness from his jaw after he’s decided he’s done savoring you. To taste you on your own tongue when he kissed you after. You’d look so pretty with his cum dripping down your lips too. All fucked out and exhausted and full of bliss.
“Okay, I think I got it fixed, Carmy.” God, he’s so fucked for thinking of you like this as you’re innocently changing the light. Just trying to improve the kitchen and he’s thinking about ruining you. He was so caught up in daydreaming that he didn’t even feel you take the light cover back out of his hand and screw it into place again.
You’re beaming down at him, using his shoulders as arm rests as you bounce down from the stepping stool. His hand grazes your ass - A total accident. He swears it. You reach behind him to sit the screwdriver down, your chest firmly against his. Nothing thinking anything of the personal space violation as you’re used to it from so many slammed nights in the kitchen.
“Thank you for helping me. Sorry it was basically just five minutes of my ass in your face.” Carmy chokes.
His cheeks are hot.
Fuck is he blushing?
He’s sputtering out of his words. “It uh, it wasn’t in my face. Not that I looked, y’know. Just uh… Just - just trying to say that I’m happy to help.” He sounds like an idiot
You’re cocking an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Holy shit, Carmy.” You pat your hands against his chest, not knowing your touch was like fire on his skin. He grabs the screwdriver and makes a beeline to the office to put it away for you.
Sure he grabbed a rag on the way. No it’s not for him to jack off into while he thinks of you.
Okay fine, it is.
“Fuck me.” The only thing Carmy can risk trying to say as the door shuts heavy behind him and his pants hit the ground.
———————–★–———
Carmen doesn’t avoid you now but he certainly makes it hard to get close to you. He’s too distracted when you’re around. Maybe there’s a bit of guilt mixed in too at his new night routine. Leave the restaurant, load your page, and wait to see what happens. New videos? New pictures? You were wormed into the back of his brain and it had to stop.
So your station got moved further down rotation. You’re at the end of the line on the left, he’s at the start on the right. It helps clear his mind, lets him hone in on perfecting what goes to the floor.
He’s able to move quickly, shifts blowing by as the restaurant’s rush takes all his attention. The clock clicks down two minutes till close, everyone working in silence to get the place flipped and go home. He’s wrapping up with Syd, helping her make a few adjustments to expo before grabbing a dead plate off of the end of the line and heading to the office with his food and a cup of water in hand. He needs a mental minute, a bite of food, and to let his thoughts all catch up.
The door’s already cracked and he’s halfway through the entry way when he registers you. Sitting there. At his desk. Your legs are crossed, a cool damp towel resting over your eyes. He wants to turn on his heel and retreat but decides that he can’t treat you any differently just because he’s developed some silly little crush. Running away would be treating you different.
“You good, Chef?”
To which you groan. Different from the ones he’s used to - This one is guttural, pained. You press your hands flat against the rag and will the cool temperature to help the pressure in your head. “Killer migraine, that’s all. Shit was moving so fast tonight and I wacked the back of my head on something in the walk in. Sorry for being in here, Carm. Just uh, needed a second.” You should push up out of the chair, show your respect. But right now you’re half convinced that standing up would be detrimental so for now you’re cemented to the seat.
“Heard.” Carmen nods to himself, sitting down the plate before opening up the desk drawer as quietly as possible. Your knee is pressing into the side of his thigh, grounding and warm. He fishes out a bottle of medicine, shaking out two pills. “Hold out your hand.”
You take a second to brace yourself for movement, sitting up and moving the towel off your eyes. Letting it pile up into a clump on the desk besides you. There’s no way around it - You look pitiful. Pouting up at Carmen as he hands over two pills and his cup out water. You take the pills diligently, taking a few gulps and letting your eyes fall back closed as you will them to kick in instantly. “Can I ask a favor?”
“Anything, Chef.”
Slowly, so not to shake yourself up, you turn the chair until your back is to Carmen. “Will you see if I gotta bump back there? Kinda terrified I gave myself a concussion but I don’t wanna believe it was that hard.”
He snickering, a grin pulling up the corners of his mouth as he steps closer. “Well you’d absolutely fuck me if you needed to file workmen’s comp so I’m gonna need you to be fine, ‘kay? Way too much fuckin’ paperwork to do on a Friday night.” You start to laugh but it’s quickly cut off into a small groan of appreciation as you feel warm, rough hands clasp either side of your shoulders.
Carmen works his way up your neck and catches himself holding his breath as his fingers brush along your scalp. He’s taking his time, savoring the moment, all under the pretense of taking care of his employee. That’s all. “Think we’re both in the clear. You feeling alright besides the headache? Need me to hold up some fingers for ya to guess? Haven’t managed to cut any off so we’ve got all ten to work with.” He’s got you laughing again while rough fingers work their way back down to your neck. The feeling of the vibration of your laughter against his hands sending chills down his back.
Wordlessly Carmen gets to work rubbing your shoulders. Tender, deep. Years of practice rolling out dough and desserts and tenderizing meat coming into play as he continues to knead away at your tense body. You let out an appreciative moan and Carmen has to start thinking of something to keep his inevitable hard on from being obvious.
When his hands come up closer to your neck once again he’s hit with flashbacks of the first video he watched. You choking yourself — Is that something you truly liked? If his hand came around to cup your throat, palm resting on one side with his fingertips firmly against the other, and lightly squeezed would you moan? Rub your thighs together in search of some hint of relief?
“Are you always this good with your hands, Chef? Hmm? Can’t imagine you giving Marcus this treatment.” You’re laughing and can practically hear the smirk in Carmen’s voice as he responds. “Yeah - You uh, didn’t know that? I just love you know, rubbing shoulders. It’s my thing. Kick your ass all night and then rub the stress out.”
He’s blanching a little at his reply. Kinda obvious but okay then, Carmen. You reach up, putting your hands atop his with a little smile. “Well thank you for… Rubbing my stress out, Chef.”
Carmen’s red. Head to toe just bright red. “Of course, Chef. Anytime.” He’s entertaining to say the least as you pat his hands before spinning around in his chair. You snag another drink of water, throwing him a wink before moving to exit the office. Your hand runs along his chest, an appreciative gesture, as you head back to the floor.
——————————★–
Late Saturday night Carmen’s so exhausted that he barely has the energy to take his work clothes off. Falling haphazardly onto his old couch, kicking his work boots off one at a time. His eyes are heavy, body aching, and he almost falls asleep before he gets to see you.
But he’s fishing his phone from his pocket, refreshing the all too familiar landing page to see you’re actively live. How you have the energy is beyond him.
You’re standing there trying on clothes that someone must send in and Carmy feels a pang of jealousy. He’s watching through half hooded eyes as you slip in a pair of shorts, turning your behind towards the camera and pulling them up just slightly to put more of your ass on display. You’re chatting away about the material while slowly pulling them down to reveal just this frilly little pair of panties that was sent in as well.
He’s propping the phone up on the armrest of the couch, laying on his side while he watches you chat away. It’s soothing. Almost like an ASMR video.
Carmen’s not sure when he fell asleep - Somewhere in-between you trying on a third outfit and attempting to clean up your bed from all the packaging. He finds you soothing, comforting. He makes a mental note to hunt out some sort of wish list you must have for these items before passing out and, once again, dreaming of you.
#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto smut#carmy berzatto smut#so many versions of his name#🤍: the bear#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto#♡: carmen berzatto#the bear x reader#the bear smut#the bear#carmy x reader#carmy x you#carmy smut#carmen x reader#carmy berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x you
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Aemond with Alicent Aemond with anyone else
#love my little mamas boy#he loves his mom sm 😭🤍#aemond targaryen#ice bear is my life#aemond the kinslayer#alicent hightower#alicent and aemond#team green#hotd#pro alicent hightower#pro aemond targaryen#pro team green#house of the dragon
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no bc your sub!abby drabble is clawing at my brain and all i can think about is her just nodding, no words are forming in her mouth at all and she’s just squeezing her thighs around your hand, mumbling dumbly about how much she needs it.
thank you for filling my brain with sub abby 😋😩
eighteen+
emi ur mind omfg i’m in love w it and ily sooo much god i could talk about her all day sub!abby would totally be squeezing her thighs around your hand, begging desperately to let her release. her shoulders and neck would so tense as abby’s abdomen clenches as she tried to squeeze her way into cumming. but you won’t let her. no. it wouldn’t be this easy for her. you’d force her thick thighs apart, making her whine in the process. adding another finger in her cunt, filling her up so generously as she finally feels herself beginning to crumble. cheeks as flushed as you’d ever seen them, poor baby couldn’t stop crying. repeatedly your name fell off those pretty plump lips of hers, in between each moan she managed to get it out, hoping her torture would be over soon. you always did love when she changed your name like a prayer. abby’s big hands latched onto your the sheets, her knuckles turning white, desperate to reach her release. ‘can you be good, abby? huh? does my good girl deserve to cum? yeah, maybe she does. even if you’re squeezing your legs shut like a little brat, i’ve tortured you enough, baby.’ you slapped the side of her ass before your nails sinked in. ‘be mommy’s good babygirl and cum. just for me baby, let it go. yeah, just like that.’
#emi u just gassed me out of writers block w this#nd im still sick#grrrr#god i love u to the moon nd back 🤍#abby anderson#abby anderson x reader#abby x reader#✭・۪ ⊹ ֗ moots — emi bear <3#✭・۪ ⊹ ֗ ray’s works
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🤍🌷 @stevesbipanic and @the-winged-doe asked to see ugly unpolished unrefined words, soo—
cw & tags: past major character death, grief, attempted time-travel fix-it(s), eddie&robin besties || potential wip
Eddie takes a long drag of his cigarette, the biting hot smoke hitting the back of his throat and clawing its way into his lungs, going as deep as he allows and leaving a permanent mark that brings neither relief nor calmness tonight. His fingers shake where they’re pressed to his lips, but the rest of him is unmoving where he sits on the front porch of their new trailer.
It’s quiet out here. It’s always quiet in Hawkins these days, the city a fucking ghosttown.
And he knows it’s not because of the one they lost. He knows it’s not because of him. But still the emptiness is stark and the silence oppressivem more so than it ever has been.
Everyone still looks for him, months later. Dustin still begins to speak, cutting himself off mid-sentence, and Robin still stands with enough space to either side, like she expects him to just show up and invade her space like the home he made for himself in there.
And somewhere among all that is Eddie. With his very own history. Or, non-history, as it turns out. But history and non-history leave wounds alike, and the memories feel just as real. A small mercy, at the end of the day, for them to feel real when they’re all he has left anymore.
He takes another drag, not quite exhaling before he obliterates the cigarette and fishes for a new one before the butt even hits the ground.
Fumbling with the lighter in his pocket, he only gets as far as placing the butt between his lips before a hand snakes into his field of vision to snag it from his mouth.
“Hey,” he complains halfheartedly but makes no attempt at getting it back, watching instead as Robin comes up to sit beside him, grimacing at the stink of tobacco that must be heavy around him.
“You’re disgusting,” she says with no real heat behind her words.
Eddie shrugs, because yeah, sure. He’s been called worse things. Robin’s called him worse things. This is her being nice. Her complaininig about his incessant smoking is nothing new. What is new is what she does next, placing the cigarette between her own lips and reaching for the light he’s been holding in a loose grip since she arrived.
She starts coughing immediately, pulling a face at the disgusting feeling of smoke in her lungs and tobacco on her tongue. But she keeps going. Eddie can only watch in surprise and mild horror.
“These things’ll kill you,” he says then in an echo of her usual sentiment, aware that he sounds as bewildered as he feels.
“Well,” Robin says, aiming for casual, but quickly interrupted by a wheeze and a cough that’s almost adorable. “Let them try.”
Eddie huffs, a pale little smile lingering on his lips as he leans back against the stairs behind him, resting his weight on his forearm to watch her. There is something captivating about her. Eddie always wonders what it is, wants to study her forever.
Maybe it’s only the lingering traces of Everything Steve Harrington that clings to her every breath, her every move, her every fucking cell, with how much he was a part of her and she of him. Maybe it’s their shared grief that has made Eddie fall a bit in love with her and with the way the moonlight catches in her hair and in the smoke wafting from her cigarette.
But somehow he refuses to believe that all he loves about her is merely the memory of Steve.
Robin, in turn, is kind enough to let him stare. Kind enough to let him find out what it is between them. If this friendship is more than a misguided projection of grief and mourning and trauma; more than co-dependence and the obsessive will to keep this one person in your life. This one person who understands.
After a while of Robin just holding the cigarette between her fingers, becuase no matter how strong her will to self destruct, she never quite got it right with the smoking, Eddie snatches it back before it goes to waste completely. As if pulled in by a string attached to his hollowed out chest, Robin leans back and into him in one smooth motion. It’s too calculated, though, and Eddie can feel how much she sags once she doesn’t have to hold herself up anymore.
He’ll hold her. It’s fine. She gets to rest if she wants to. God knows she needs it.
The night is warm for mid-September, but still Robin shakes against him. Eddie holds her closer.
Silence settles over them, and it’s not an easy one. Silence is never easy anymore, especially with them. He feels so deeply hollow that even the silence echoes in there, creating an ever-present, uncomfortable thrumming of apprehension and anxiety within him. A certain sense of doom, one that can’t quite decide if it’s only an echo itself.
“I wanna stop time,” Robin says at last, the cigarette long dead between Eddie’s fingers, but he somehow can’t bring himself to flick it away. “I don’t want tomorrow.”
I don’t ever want a new day. I don’t ever want another tomorrow. I just want Steve.
They ring in his head still, another echo that only hollows him out further every time it reaches him — Robin, overcome with hysterical grief, screaming and crying, curled up on that hospital floor, her cries quieting down and making Eddie wish she would be loud again, because the quiet was what killed him. The quiet, the whispered words, the declarations that tomorrow could go fuck itself if it came without Steve made him wish, irrationally, desperately, that their roles were reversed. That he could have died and Steve could have lived, and Robin would never have to wish tomorrow never came.
He’s not entirely sure if she remembers the words, too. If she even said them in this world.
So he takes a deep breath, breathes away memories and non-histories, feels the heavy weight of his guitar pick hanging around his neck, resting on the scarred flesh of his chest, and tries not to think of the one string left on his acoustic guitar. Tries not to think of his one last attempt. One last try.
“I know,” he tells her. “Me neither.”
He peers over her head, lifting his left wrist to check his watch. Ten minutes until midnight. Ten minutes until Steve’s birthday.
“It’s not tomorrow yet,” he tries lamely, and Robin huffs — the sound wet and bitter and hopeless, making Eddie’s eyes sting.
“It’s always fucking tomorrow,” she rasps, her voice flat and wavering, and Eddie knows her well enough to know she’s about to cry. And she knows him well enough to do it.
“I know,” he says again, and reaches for his necklace through his shirt. One more attempt. One more try. One more chance. His eyes burn.
She turns to him after taking a moment to compose herself, peering up at him through her lashes.
“Tell me again?”
His heart falls, the tense apprehension vanishing from the air, bur quickly replaced by something a lot more heavy. Something that looks and smells and feels like grief.
They both know he’ll do anything she asks. He can’t really bear saying not to her. And not about this, anyway — she’s the only one who knows.
She’s the one who should have had the chance.
“Which part?” he asks, holding a new cigarette out for her to light it. She does, and the both follow the flame of the lighter Robin always keeps in her pocket these days.
She leans forward and takes a drag. Eddie lets her.
“All of them.“
Eddie sighs, pain welling up inside him, and he closes his eyes against the night sky. “Robbie,” he pleads, but he doesn’t finish his plea. He’ll do it. He’ll do anything she asks.
But before he starts recounting the tales of how he almost saved Steve Harrington, he finds himself saying something he never thought he’d tell her.
“There’s one more.” The words hang in the air, and Robin doesn’t react. Has no idea what’s coming; what he’s about to tell her. The guitar pick is heavy on the necklace around his throat. “There’s one more try. One more chance. I’m… I have one more—“
He can’t even finish the sentence. Can’t bring himself to say it, lest it all be jinxed forever. He doesn’t want to hope. Wants to carry this weight for all eternity and never think about all those times he failed to save someone he was never meant to save at all. People like Eddie, they’re not made to save anyone. Hell, they can’t even save themselves.
Steve was supposed to be the one doing the saving.
And he did. God, he fucking did. But he was never supposed to—
Cold fingers wrap around his own as Robin fits their hands together.
“I hate you a little bit for telling me.”
Eddie nods, trying to focus on the cold hand and the nicotine in his lungs, trying not to let panic and grief and guilt and the heavy weight of one more chance win. “I know.”
“Hey, Eddie?” Robin says after a while, the silence stretching on, and it’s almost midnight now. “Can you— Would you do something for me?”
He turns his head, flicking the butt of his cigarette out into the darkness beyond them. “What’s that?”
“Don’t— Don’t try to, to save him. Don’t— Just… Just maybe, could you celebrate his birthday with him? Make sure he knows he’s… God, make sure he knows he’s loved? Last year, no one really made time on his birthday and we just moved it backwards but God, could you— It’s almost midnight, and—“
“Robbie,” Eddie interrupts her, his voice hoarse and wavering, his eyes burning with tears as he tugs her close and holds her to his chest. “You should go. Don’t you wanna…”
But she’s shaking her head against him with a vehemence that can hardly be misunderstood.
“No,” she cries, and it’s more of a sob than anything. “I think if I ever saw him again, I’d… I don’t know what I’d do. Burn the whole fucking world to the ground for him or some shit, I can’t— I’d probably just cry all the time and that wouldn’t be helpful, really.” There’s a weak, wet laugh that bubbles out of both of them, and Eddie’s wiping at Robin’s face, drying the tears and making way for new ones to fall.
“I’d light a fire for you,” Eddie says, the same weak smile on his lips that Robin meets him with now. “Nineteen fucking fires, you hear me?”
She laughs again, then buries her face in his neck in a way that never quite fit. In a way that Eddie always knew was supposed to be someone else’s neck.
But he’s not here anymore. And Eddie can’t get him back. No matter how much he aches for it, no matter how much he learned over and over and over again how easy it is to love Steve Harrington and how hard, how fucking impossible it is to lose him. Over and over and over again.
And to live without him. This one fucking time they all get. It’s not fair.
And now Robin is asking him to go back one more time and make sure that Steve knows— That he knows.
Somehow the thought of that feels nobler than any attempt to save him, to bring him back; to rewrite history from a lonely boy’s perspective and hope that no one else is reading along.
It feels right, too. Fundamentally and suddenly, and with such an intensity that Eddie knows the decision has been made the second he started telling her.
Still he hesitates. Robin’s sobs have calmed down, and Eddie’s hand finds its way into her hair.
“Do you really mean it?”
She nods.
He nods, too, but slower. Like he’s trying to sway himself. Which way, he doesn’t know.
“Make him happy.”
“Okay,” he decides after a while, feeling hollow and desperate, but feeling purpose burning underneath his skin again. “One last time.”
He unwinds his arms from around her and heads inside to grab his acoustic guitar. The last remaining string, badly untuned because he never dared to touch it, stares back at him in both mockery and invitation. A dare. A chance. A promise.
Outside, Robin is waiting for him, looking anxious. Eddie wants to hug her. He doesn’t, only tightens his grip around the guitar’s neck.
“Listen, Eddie, if this is goodbye or something—“
“It’s a birthday party, Robsie,” he interrupts her, aiming for light, aiming for brave. “I’m coming back right here.”
“I know,” she rushes to say, taking a step toward him and wringing her hands. It’s endearing. It’s genuine. Eddie really is a little in love with her. “But, y’know, you don’t mess with time, and I don’t know what all you already changed before and I don’t wanna know but… If this is goodbye, if something happens, I just wanna tell you that I’m gonna miss you. And that I think you’re really cool. And that Steve’s— he’s really missing out, okay. Okay?”
Eddie breathes, taking in her words and letting them soak into his body, his every last fibre.
“Okay,” he smiles. “Thank you. You’re… I’m kind of in love with you, Robin Buckley. So there had better be no change in the universe, ‘cause that would really suck.”
They smile at each other, Eddie with his guitar and Robin with her lighter, and somehow this feels like a deja-vu. The antithesis to a moment forever burned into his memory.
Make him pay.
Make him happy.
Eddie tugs on his necklace and plays the string before he can think about it too hard; before he can decide otherwise.
Distantly, he hears the church bells announcing midnight as the world around him fades.
🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @cryptic-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 @devondespresso @bookworm0690 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)
#steddie#steddie fic#eddie & robin#eddie munson#robin buckley#robin and eddie are grieving besties now#me writing another story about death and the inability to grieve?? it’s more likely than you think#this one probably doesn’t make sense yet because they’re both refusing to think about what’s real or think about anything at all#so past present and future need time to develop above the damaged psyche of two entirely too young adults#so bear with me and give us time#anyway i’m posting this despite its unpolished ugliness bc this is as good as it gets#if i were anything like my self this would be a 7k study but as it turns out writing about grief is exhausting#(hi taglist gang i hope it was okay to tag you for entirely too raw a draft for anyone to lay eyes on lmao 🤍)
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🅽🅾🆃 🅴🆅🅴🆁🆈🆃🅷🅸🅽🅶 🅸🆂 🅱🅻🅰🅲🅺 🅰🅽🅳 🆆🅷🅸🆃🅴 <- [click]
#line art for my last der-bear piece 🤍#derek hale#derek hale art#derek art#teen wolf#teen wolf art#teen wolf fanart#tyler hoechlin#werewolf#werewolves#werewolf art#fanart#digital art#art#tcats arts#teencopandthesourwolf#eternal sterek#sterek is eternal
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THE BEAR (2022-)
"Braciole" — 1x08
#thebearedit#tvedit#the bear#carmy berzatto#richie jerimovich#filmtvdaily#usertelevision#userbbelcher#cinematv#chewieblog#dailytvgifs#edit**#🤍
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yibo-official weibo update
Welcome to Wang Yibo ’s key frames of the year, looking back frame by frame, wonderful and colorful, indulge in the beautiful changes of light and shadow, enjoy expressing your true self in music, explore the unknown in different fields, and mark on the progress bar of life keyframes. In 2023, you will be rewarded with diligent study and hard work, and in 2024, we will embark on a new journey with steady steps!A new chapter is about to begin. I wish you all to move forward in the Year of the Dragon, and be happy and prosperous!
link to weibo for the full post and view the recap
#wang yibo#it has been a good year for him!#i am so lucky to bear witness to it all and show support ☺️☺️☺️#i will def be doing the same this coming year and as long as i can 🤍🤍🤍
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beomgyu performing 'wonder' during txt's present x together fanlive (020324)
#i am in love with him btw#i need more electric guitar beom like i need air#tomorrow x together#txt#beomgyu#present x together#txt fanlive#this cover of him is such a comfort song of mine i teared up a little ngl... <\\\3#— chaotic teddy bear with an heart of gold 🤍🧸
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What some of these fics will have: Kidnapping, Blackmail, Cannibalism, Gore, Manipulation, Decapitation, Dismemberment, Psychotic Behavior (only for the character though not for reader), Sadism, Stockholm Syndrome, Stalking, Possessiveness, Knife Marking, Skin Carving, Vivisepulture (Buried Alive), Drugging, Stabbing/Shooting, Murder, Massacre, Arson, Breaking In, Blood, Blood, Blood Drinking and More Blood. (I just love blood)
A/N: I suggest if you don't like this stuff don't read it cause this stuff is pretty dark. Also I'll be posting the dates when I get them finished.
2023-
Night At The Graveyard: Serial Killer Yelena Belova x Human Reader
Werewolf At Midnight: Werewolf Maria Hill x Werewolf Hunter Reader
A Vampire's Gift: Vampire Natasha Romanoff x Vampire Hunter Reader
To Defend & Protect: Police Officer Yelena Belova x Wife Reader (Requested)
Haunted Souls: Vampire Yelena Belova x Mutant Reader
If you guys want to be added to the Taglist just fill this Google doc out here → Link
#River's Halloween Masterlist 🎃🦇#Natasha Romanoff#Maria Hill#Yelena Belova#Wanda Maximoff#Dark Natasha Romanoff#Dark Maria Hill#Dark Yelena Belova#Dark Wanda Maximoff#Vampire Natasha Romanoff#Werewolf Maria Hill#Vampire Yelena Belova#Demon Wanda Maximoff#Serial Killer Natasha Romanoff#Serial Killer Maria Hill#Serial Killer Yelena Belova#Serial Killer Wanda Maximoff#natty bear my love 🧸❤️🖤#mar mar my baby💙🖤#yelena my baby🤍💛#Wanda Bear My Precious Witch ❤️🌹#River's Darktober Masterlist 🔪🩸
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photo credit: daniel gauthier
random post but i ran into this picture down a research rabbit hole last night and i'm in love with it. like. what joy and ALSO: monsieur ours!! 🐻🏳️🌈
#yes it's just 'mister bear' but. idk. the french defamiliarizes it for me so it's extra-charming somehow#🤎🧡💛🤍🖤
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late night talking | carmen berzatto x reader
a semi smutty blurb of him taking care of you (specifically your hair) after turning you into a mess 🫶🏻
figured i’d just put this out short then letting it live in my drafts forever :’) no real reader description outside of having a non-protective hairstyle that’s able to be braided
also mentions of hickies & piv intercourse!! otherwise it’s just him being nurturing and also mentioning kids.
carmen berzatto loves to have his fingers in your hair. he’ll rub your head while the two of you fall asleep at night. always brushes stray pieces out of your face. he holds your head in place while he fucks your throat. balls his fist around a handful while you ride him so he can pull your head back and leave a mess of hickies covering your neck. one time he got carried away while you were rolling your hips down onto him and bit down on your skin a little too hard. it left a mark for almost two weeks - a mark he'd lick and kiss to soothe every time he saw it.
on his rare days off he barely lets you get out of bed. if you two aren't tangled together then keeping you flush against his side while the two of you talk about life and the future and what shitty tv show you're both hooked on at that time.
all this to say - he leaves your hair a mess. it's everywhere by the time he's done with you. tangled and ratted and sweaty.
he sits down on the sofa and makes you sit in between his legs after one particularly intimate night. laughing as he realizes just what a mess he's made of you. he's got a bottle of detangler and a comb, making gentle work of combing out your hair while that same shitty tv show you talked about earlier plays in the background. he's so careful not to tug it too hard, smoothing it down as he goes.
it doesn't take long to get you back into shape and carmen finishes it off by doing a braid that sugar spent weeks teaching him how to do while they were growing up. he's got you taken care of now.
he pulls you up, sinking back into the couch as he keeps your frame close to his. warm and comforting. he'll always take care of you.
you keep the braid in throughout the day. he teasingly pulls on it randomly, tugging your head back to give you a kiss whenever he’s behind you. your hair being out of the way gives him better access to your neck which he fully takes advantage of while dinner’s in the oven that night.
he likes marking you up. careful to leave them just low enough where they will hide under your shirts but they’re there and you’re his.
late that night the two of you are spent and carmen practically has to drag you to the bathroom. offering a bribe of taking you to your favorite coffee shop in the morning and a walk through streeterville so you could get a good view of the lake.
he helps you undress and chucks both of your clothes into the overflowing laundry hamper. a chore that was long forgotten today.
then one of his favorite acts of service - washing your hair. fingers working the product into your scalp and carefully rinsing it out. there’s something about the way you just look so content and at peace that does it for him. you always return the favor and find satisfaction in knowing you got him to stop using that god awful ten-in-one product and into real shampoo and conditioner.
he’ll rebraid your hair before bed if you want him to and he’s been getting better at it. you wonder if you’ll have daughters one day. they won’t know how lucky they are to have a dad actually capable of taking care of their hair but you know carmen will do it with a smile. always taking care of his girls.
you share the idea with him and there’s a dreamy smile being thrown your way in the mirror as you look at the reflection of you two together. his hands slide around middle and now he’s dragging you back to bed to get started making that dream a reality.
#♡: carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy x you#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto smut#carmen berzatto smut#🤍: the bear#fck it another post today!!
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does this count as propaganda
go vote lockstep
#surprise. rotten id doing pixel art. Yay🌈#mo 💜🤍#rhythm heaven#rhythm heaven oc#stepswitcher#lockstep#you have NO idea how fast i drew this KKAKDKSJBDJD#PLEAS.E.... LOCKSTEP. SAVEME LOCKSTEP#bear with me ive never done. propangangde Uh propaganda. yeah. like this before
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well fuck i’m in deep now LOL say hi to my bbgirl blanca <3 she’s an illustrator who specializes in macabre imagery w/ junji ito as her main inspiration. her favorite movie is the craft, she loves snakes and cemeteries and sanrio, and she has an ungodly amount of pretty gel pens that she’s “definitely going to use for a really cool piece someday”. horribly tsundere and shy about liking cute things.
tfw you’re dying on the inside because your crush keeps watching you work on the album art for his stupid goddamn band because the lead singer liked your stupid goddamn illustrations on instagram and thought it was cool so now you’re having to remember how to breathe so you don’t pass out on the job
#metalocalypse#metalocalypse fanart#mtl#dethklok#metalocalypse oc#mtl oc#do not @ her about this mf LOOK AWAY#digital art#my art#i came up with her like a day ago so she’s not super fleshed out yet ok#bear with me#she doesn’t even have a last name yet LMAOOOO#she’s mx-american but i kinda want her to have a random last name like in the show#anyways#blanca tag🤍⛓️#WAIIIITTT THEIR SHIP NAME CAN B TOCA IT MEANS TOUCH THATS KINDA CUTE#love that
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16.04.24 // 11.30pm idk why i posted this ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ (i luv this pic tho ❤️💯💅🏼)
#aesthetic#aesthetics#me time#mine#it's me#teddy bear#gorl#tumblr girls#this is what makes us girls#pretty girls#new blog#cute#‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.#me 🤍#pink aesthetic#pink#pinkcore#i love you! 🩷🍃#🩷
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For the rebelgade adoption au. I can see a new recruit, picking on Nine, and not knowing that is the worst thing you can do. As he does so he doesn't notice Mama Bear Rouge and Papa Wolf Knuckles right behind them.
The last thing they see before they die
#DON'T MESS WITH THE CHILD#THEY WILL PROTECCC#rebelgade adoption AU#mama bear#papa wolf#rebel rouge#renegade knucks#nine the fox#❤️🤍💛
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absolutely going feral over this picture of young Jon Bernthal in The Bear season 2 (sorry for the shit quality I literally took a picture of my tv screen 😆)
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