#chicago fire cast

[ameliagiovanna0]

I'm in tears, I'm shaking, I'm nauseous.

I'll be making an entire post later

Upstead forever 💔

[shewholovesall]

In the Waiting Room: Team 51's Emotional Support for Stella

[dylanconrique]

btw if grey doesn't match boedn''s energy here when tim and lucy get married i'm gonna lose it.

[stellaridegifs]

TAYLOR KINNEY and MIRANDA RAE MAYO on the set of CHICAGO FIRE: A Saga

[stellariders]

the cast at the season 12 wrap party over the weekend!

jocelyn, tony, randy, robyn, and chik were also there!

[unknowntoyou2205]

Scared for my life (Halstead x sister)                Jay had always been upfront to his sister about what he did when she became the age to understand the risks it took. But he never dreamed that one of his previous encounters would take his sister, the one person more important to him than his life.

Never threaten the Shelby sister                Tommy Shelby never believed y/n when she said a guy had threatened her life for something her brother did, but he soon realizes the truth when it becomes too late.

Fear turns to confession (Jay Halstead x reader)                Jay Halsteads friend in the army comes home, but feelings arise when she joins intellagence. Requested by @maybankangel

Phone call of terror (Will Halstead x reader)              While Will finishes work for the day, y/n calls him to organise plans for dinner, but during that call a bang is heard and caous soon follows.    Requested by @megafandomsxassemble

Train of fear (Gideon x daughter reader)                Gideon had raised his daughter on his own since her mother left  them, and from that she became one of the best FBI officers out there. But sometimes with the FBI comes risk, and while taking the train to work with Elle, things take an unexpected turn.

Birthday cake (Hotch x daughter reader) – song dylan conrique              It’s her moms first birthday since her death, and y/n can’t help but feel sad as she remembers the fond memories together.

Better than he ever could (Sky x reader) Y/n reveals to Sky that she is pregnant, and Sky swears he'll be a better Father than his own was. Requested by @cruesfavgirl

Tags: @dark-academia-slut @lyria-skyfall @mxacegrey @sassyqueen15 @loverofthings2425

Social media: Birthday girl (Marvel cast x platonic reader)              Y/n has been a part of the marvel cast since she was 4, and the cast can’t help but shower her with love and affection as she turns 15.

Set fire to the rain (Severide x Hermann daughter) Y/n and Severide have been married for 4 years, now trying for a baby they struggle, and fear they may never have their own child

Secrets can't always be kept to yourself (BAU x teen reader) 17 year old joins the FBI on an internship, and is holding a secret. But working with the BAU crew means nothing stays secret for long, but will they find out before it becomes too late.

Also continuing: I just want my dad (Silva x daughter)

In which the inevitable becomes reality (Reagan family x daughter)

[subtlehaz]

okay just a thought I haven’t seen expressly shared yet bc I refuse to believe Bobby is retiring

I’m on board with them maybe getting medals for the cruise rescue, sure, okay (also mildly weird they’ve never gotten anything for other disasters but I guess the cruise is a bit more unique)

But I also feel like Bobby could maybe be the next chief? And take over that way? It’s been implied that the current chief might be vying for mayor, and then it opens up the opportunity for Hen being captain and some movement amongst the team (which honestly also makes sense, they’ve gotta shake up the dynamics a little bit after 7 years and this still makes sure it’s not bc of a d*ath and all the mains are still mains)

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

y'all...i just watched the first four episodes of house md because i wanted to see jesse spencer and hear him talk with his actual accent

i'm going to scream into the abyss

[deluweil]

Oliver is excited for March 6th 👀🔥❤️

[gins-potter]

I've seen people on tt saying that because of Miranda / Stella Brett isn't having a lot of screen time. And I don't want to gossip but we are all pretty sure why Kara wasn't in few episodes in s10 so maybe, just maybe!, she asked for a little bit less work for a while? Because of what's happening in her private life? I don't like when people talk like they know about everything is happening on set - because we have no idea what it's like (no matter who is 2nd on billing list)

Yeah, I personally don't find there's much value in why people are getting more or less screen time than other people. Like you said, there's every chance that something is happening in the casts personal lives that we aren't privy to and don't need to be. Sometimes we just have a little trust in the showrunners and writing team that they're doing things for a reason. And big agree I don't like when people act like they know the ins and outs of the casts lives. Parasocial relationships, friends, look the concept up and don't form them please.

[currymanganese]

GUYS, I CAN'T ACTUALLY BELIEVE I'M SAYING THIS, BUT WHAT IF THEY ACTUALLY HAD A GOOD REASON FOR JOHN CENA BEING CAST AS SAMMY FAK?

please bear with me (pun intended) and let me know what you think of my speculation under the cut~

In a mind-boggling case of a seemingly big-lipped alligator moment in season 3 - John Cena appears in a bizarrely over the top (even by the tonal comedic standards set previously by The Bear e.g. Ecto Cooler punch at a kid's birthday party getting spiked with Xanax in Season One) and jarring scene that stretches on and on as he obnoxiously squabbles, blathers and exchanges nonsensical rapid-fire quips with his brothers Neil and Ted Fak as they buff polish The Bear's dining area before a food photographer from The Chicago Tribune arrives to take a photo for a review of The Bear.

In this scene, he also intimidates and threatens to 'haunt' (in a Fak family tradition ( that even the Faks find annoying) - that involves pranking and being an unrestrained nuisance to their loved ones especially when they least expect it) his brother Ted for, "stealing his SD cards"......

This scene and the increased screen presence of the seemingly plot-irrelevant Faks this season is currently being eviscerated by plenty of fans and critics alike.

Edit:

I now strongly suspect that John Cena's role was always in the works ever since S1

..................................

But what if there's a (debatable, but) really good reason for this scene and the increased involvement in Seasons 2 and 3 of the massive numbered siblings family of Carmy's pseudo cousins, the Faks?

See Exhibit A:

In season 2, episode 3, Sundae - after Carmy has already asked Sydney out to Kasama, a husband and wife owned restaurant run by Tim Flores, and Genie Kwon*, ostensibly just to brainstorm and gain inspiration for planning for the new menu, and after Sydney has already gone home and freshened up and changed her clothes, then arrived to Kasama early, despite the meeting only being scheduled for an hour after she last spoke to Carmy at his apartment, Claire calls and interrupts the whole hypothetical shebang with Syd and Carmy at Kasama (the Tagalog WORD FOR TOGETHER) with the words,

"Did you mean to give me a fake number? You do know that I know your entire family [translation: she must know Donna too and Claire assumes that Carmy's folks approve of her - and she's proven to be technically right throughout Seasons 2 and 3 ], right? And I know ALL the Faks! [translation: tee hee! they're bigger than you - to quote Neil and Ted with their Uncle, "We Faks do have a particular shape, don't we?😇" - and they outnumber you, you scrawny punk, slay!😉✨]"

Claire then proceeds to playfully threaten to have said "massive numbered siblings" Faks, which includes Sammy Fak, played by John Cena (a professional wrestler, from an industry that is mixes both bawdy over the top theatre, a performance art that values Kayfabe (legerdemain/slight of hand anyone?) and comedy, and an athletic discipline) that is TALL. BUILT. HENCH. AND BUFF AF.....Claire 'playfully' threatens to have THESE FAKS, beat up Carmy, who is short in stature and cannot fight well from all the previous physical confrontations we've seen him be involved in, despite supposedly being a former high-school wrestler, and who has already been seriously physically abused thrice in the series run thus far (not counting him play fighting or trying to fight with Richie) after being JUMPED by a GROUP of assailants, not once, but TWICE in season one, by the Ballbreaker nerds in the pilot, and the Bachelor Party attendees in the season finale (the first season started and ended with Carmy being beaten tf up, Holy Shit! 🤯); AND AFTER BEING SLAPPED IN THE FACE IN SEASON 2 BY HIS OWN MOTHER, DONNA.

Notice the way Carmy goes from being lost in his thoughts but being completely relaxed after his menu planning session with Sydney, and in anticipation of seeing her on their would be inspiration seeking meet-up (definitely not a date, no Sir! 👀) at Kasama, to being tense and jittery and apprehensive when Claire calls him (after going behind his back and getting his number from Fak).

Notice the way Carmy's voice shakes when he asks Claire if she really knows all of the Faks.....

Notice Carmy's defeated and annoyed reaction after he hangs up the phone.

No wonder Carmy is being so avoidant and conflict averse in his handling of Claire in both Season Two and Three, he has absolutely no faith in himself or his loved ones at present to defend himself should he assert the type of boundaries he may have been desiring to have with them for these past two seasons, after all - who can he count on to fully have his back even to the point of physically intervening for him if he gets into a scrape or is genuinely attacked, by the Faks on account of Claire taking offense at or misrepresenting his words and actions to them, e.g. Claire apparently twisting Carmy's self loathing stream of consciousness confession (that she eavesdropped on) and telling Tiff that they broke up because Carmy said that "Claire will ruin everything good for him?" while he was trapped in the fridge?

What if Carmy knows he has to rip the band-aid and call Claire and apologize for his part in the superficiality and disintegration of their dalliance, but is afraid to do so because he knows in so doing, if he is being fully honest with himself and with Claire, he never truly wanted to be with her in the first place?

And who knows how Claire will take that revelation - it probably won't be pretty will it?

And.....

to quote Neil Fak,

"Claire's the best."

"We love Claire."

"I did that." [setting Carmy and Claire up in Pop)

And.....

Claire. knows. all. the. Faks.....

TL;DR

They cast John Cena as Sammy Fak, and the Faks had a lot of screen-time this season because they are the physical manifestation of being haunted in their family's sense of the word:

and a satirical visualization of Carmy's desire for Syd being cock-blocked ; plus Claire is a Love-able Alpha Bitch, and Carmy is ambivalent towards her, and even a little scared to face her, because her henchmen are the Faks!

If you enjoyed this post, then thank you for reading and I'd recommend that you check out the following meta on the way Christopher Storer and Company have seemingly (and controversially) committed to sticking to the bit of lying to the audience and breaking the fourth wall throughout this entire season:

Richie and the viewer - by @whenmemorydies with my add-on in the reblogs about Richie, not Carmy, potentially being Christopher Storer's author avatar in this series (from a post originally written before season 3 premiered.

Fourth Wall being broken - by @brokenwinebox and @thoughtfulchaos773

Claire being a possible representation of addiction, being a habit that is hard to kick - by @thoughtfulchaos773 and my and @devisrina 's add-on speculating that Claire may also be meant to be interpreted or revealed as a bit of a mean girl, to reference TVTropes, she (and by extension Season 3) may be a deconstruction/ mashup /send-up / subversion of the: Girl Next Door, the Cute Bookworm, Nerds Are Sexy, MPDG, Yandere, Alpha Bitch, Loveable Apha Bitch, Childhood Friend Romance, High-School Sweethearts, Sickeningly Sweethearts, Getting Crap Past The Radar, Freeze Frame Bonus, Parental Bonus, Viewers Are Geniuses, Give Geeks A Chance, Even Nerds Have Standards, Beauty Equals Goodness, Face-Heel Turn, Cerebus Syndrome tropes etc.....and a subtler mirror version of Donna Berzatto.

Edit: See my reblog add on to @espumado 's thread on the recurrent 'haunting' theme this season and the possibility of the Claire x Carmy x Sydney love triangle being a Lilith x Adam x Eve allegory, and my webweaving about Syd x Carmy's Adam and Eve parallels. sidenote: Lilith is Adam's first wife apocryphally and in Jewish mysticism that left him, and became a she-demon / mother of demons after being impregnated by the archangel Samael - wait is 'Sammy' Fak a Samael allegory?!!

and another reblog add-on of mine to the thread linked above - on The Faks as the living embodiment of all that is fake in Carmy's life, C Storer's handy dandy tools for slight of hand,

you can't spell fake without FAK.

and please see

Clairecarmy as Ann Veal x GOB from Arrested Development

and with Richie's frustrated refrain of, "Who cares?!" whenever Claire and Claire and Carmy's breakup is brought up in 3 -

see the running gag of George Michael Bluth's (from Arrested Development) family's disdain for Ann and his relationship with her.

5. The parallels between The Bear and Burnt by @ambeauty - a post Season 2 post which was proven to be prescient and insightful given the Easter Egg inclusion of Bradley Cooper's character from Burnt on the photo wall of chefs at Ever in the Funeral dinner in the finale.

6. The parallels between The Bear and Boiling Point - a gritty film and mini-series set in a restaurant which features several plot elements and characters reminiscent of certain character archetypes and subplots present in The Bear - seriously think of this IP as The Bear's cynical, dramatic, older British cousin.

Decision to leave by @anderwater

This anon that recommended Boiling Point to me and wrote about its connections to The Bear.

The difference between The Bear and Boiling Point by @theblvckvenus

The similarities between The Bear and Boiling Point in this reblog add-on to @happylikeasadsong et. al's thread.

7. Claire/Carmy and the Walk In - my old post on the parallels between Strange Days (1995), Can't Hardly Wait (1998, and The Bear.

and @ambeauty 's meta on Claire as a representation of the fridge

8. My post on the possible connection between The Bear Season 3 and Andrei Tarkovsky's experimental, semi-autobiographical, psychological Oedipal drama film The Mirror (1975) - a film which was incredibly divisive upon its initial release, but has since gained wide acclaim and re-evaluation as a masterpiece, and that has had a legacy of subsequently inspiring multiple renowned filmmakers.

9. The Bear series' lead actress, and the director of Napkins, one of the only episodes of The Bear Season 3 to receive almost universal acclaim - Ayo Edebiri's trollish sense of humour and assertion that lying is the pinnacle of comedy.

10. And last but certainly not least with the inclusion of a Genie Kwon*'s, of Kasama fame, cameo in the season finale and the prominence of Kasama being key to Syd and Carmy's stymied relationship progression, courtesy Claire, see

The Kasama of it all by @gingerylangylang1979

@mod-doodles @lunasink @vacationship @chansoooo1-blog

@bioloyg @msmoiraine @nerdyblerd @ripley-stark @uncriticalbunny @prowitchazel @msmoiraine @mswyrr @anxietycroissant @turbulenthandholding @tvfantic87 @laryssamedeirss @tejidaepoque @angelica4equity @inalltheirgorgeouscolors @houseofevangelista @glitterslag

@uncriticalbunny @imliterallyjustablackgirl

@bioloyg and @ambeauty please don't say I told you so or welcome back, I'm flabbergasted that I wrote this, but I want to believe! 😭

P.S. If you're still reading this, do yourself a favour and read @brokenwinebox 's post

New Paradigm

and this follow up

Mocktail is a dirty word

and check out her #the magic trick tag!

and also check out these Sydcarmy and Rosalind x Orlando from Shakespeare's As You Like It parallels:

The Bear as a pastoral comedy

First Meetings

Fumbling with your crush

Separation, keepsakes and lovesickness

and also C Storer really did tell us in the music that this season would inspire

Mixed Emotions 🥴

[megalony]

I'll Deal With Him

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by the lovely @klovesreading I hope this is what you were hoping for. Feedback is always appreciated, let me know what you think.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii  @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @gillybear17

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: After (Y/n) saves a man from a car wreck, he starts to follow her a lot. And he isn't happy when he finds out she's married, either.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What's your name?"

"Max."

"Okay Max, I'm (Y/n) and I'm gonna try and get you out of here." A calming smile flooded (Y/n)'s lips but she could feel her nerves starting to play up and ignite a spark deep in her stomach.

Her eyes cast around the upside down car before she took a deep breath and flopped down onto the concrete on her stomach. Her chest and legs pressed uncomfortably into the road and she shuffled and crawled along until she could whip her helmet off and wedge herself through the open door into the car.

Max was trapped. He was near the edge of the road, trapped inside an upside down car that was spewing smoke and partially crushed.

(Y/n) did her best to assess him, she could see his legs and feet wiggling around which suggested he had no paralysis or nerve damage. His hands were tapping anxiously on the steering wheel and he was rocking his head back and forth to try and keep himself calm.

She could see a worrying cut that was bleeding out on his left arm just below his shoulder but when she patted him down, she couldn't find any other substantial injuries. Apart from one or two broken ribs.

Lifting her head, (Y/n) looked around before she reached her hand out for the seat belt. "Hold still for me." She wrangled it free and unbuckled it, keeping her other hand on Max's neck to ease him down a little. She had to get him out soon, staying turned upside down like this wasn't doing him any good and she couldn't sort out his arm while he was trapped.

Wiggling back, she shuffled out and stayed laying beside the car so she could look around for her team.

"Guys, anyone free to assist? I have a driver stuck."

"Give me a minute." Eddie's huffed reply came through and (Y/n) started to nod to herself until she looked up.

"Now. I need you now, the car's leaking I have to get him out."

Petrol was pooling down the side of the car and onto the road. If that caught fire the car would go up in flames. (Y/n) couldn't wait around and she couldn't do anything to stop the leak. She needed to get Max out before the car set alight and he was burned inside.

When (Y/n) didn't receive a response, she did another sweep around the car but she could see it was going to spark up soon. Very soon.

A shiver crawled down her spine and her body shuddered when she realised there was a fire just to the side of the road, less than five feet away from the car. They were going to go up in flames. She had to move. She had to get Max out, backboard or assistance be damned. (Y/n) had to move quickly if she wanted to get them both to safety.

"Eddie? Eddie- fuck! We're getting out now Max, hold steady for me."

Crawling back through, (Y/n) ripped off her gloves and scrunched her fingers tightly underneath Max's arms. She took a deep breath and started to pull with as much effort as she could muster. Her stomach grated against the floor and her teeth clenched down as she tried to hurry but it was hard.

Pushing up onto her knees, she yanked on his arms and slumped his upper body through the open door, past the sheet of broken glass surrounding them on the floor.

"I- I- my leg!" Both Max's hands moved down to grab his left leg which wasn't moving the way he wanted it to. The top of the car was crumpled and his left leg was crushed between the metal. He couldn't try and scramble and help (Y/n) get him out without almost tearing his leg off in the process.

(Y/n) could feel her panic rising as the puddle of petrol started to grow into a turbulent fire that was trickling across towards the car.

She took a deep breath and let go of Max's arms so she could flop back down onto her stomach. She shimmied out of her florescent jacket and laid it over Max's head and chest to try and keep him more protected before she wedged her head and upper body into the cramped footwell.

There was no time for someone to find and bring her the jaws to cut the metal and cut his leg free from the car. If (Y/n) didn't do something now, they would both be fried.

Her hands curled around the back of Max's knee and she felt up and down his leg to try and assess him and make sure there were no injuries or burst blood vessels she had to be aware of. (Y/n) then stuck her hand between his leg against the metal and tried to pull. She used all her effort to wiggle his ankle from side to side and do the same to his knee to get him out.

A scream burned past her lips and she jolted to the left, smacking her head into the car frame when she realised the other side of the car was starting to catch fire.

Her movements became violent and frantic as she wrenched, tugged and jostled Max's leg until finally, just as another part of the car started to ignite, his leg came free. (Y/n) felt dizzy when she shuffled back and moved to grab Max by the arms again. She could feel her legs giving way as she yanked and started to drag him again.

"Come on." (Y/n) seethed through gritted teeth but her eyes slammed closed and she yanked harder when she saw the car lighting up with flames burning even higher. The fire was starting to burn inside the car and get dangerously close to the petrol tank. Her boots scraped against the floor and her back and shoulders ached and screamed as she shuffled as fast as she could.

Her body shuddered and hit the floor when the car ignited and a billowing sheet of flames lapped across every square inch of the car. Her left shoulder slammed into the floor and she could feel Max slumped next to her legs, but they were out. They weren't stuck in the car. He was out and he was safe; (Y/n) didn't let him burn.

"You saved me."

Her eyes tried to come back into focus and she looked down at Max when he patted her leg and tried to smile up at her. But all (Y/n) could see was a blob of black and florescent yellow aiming her way as her name tore from her husband's lips.

She let her eyes fall closed to stop herself from crying when Eddie's hands slid under her arms and he carefully but quickly lifted her up from the floor so she was sitting up. She went loose and floppy, letting Eddie take her weight and easily pull her further away from the scene while Hen and Evan started to move Max in the same direction.

(Y/n) flopped her head back onto Eddie's shoulder when he finally stopped and went down on his knees behind her. His arms looped around her waist and he lifted her right hand to see where she had been hurt when he noticed the blood pooling down between her fingers.

"Talk to me. Are you good?" His hand smoothed up and down her front and he breathed in relief when (Y/n) tried to smile and nod. She must have cut her hand when she was trying to free Max's leg, but other than that and the shock and adrenaline, she was fine.

She opened her eyes again when she felt an unfamiliar hand on her ankle and realised it was Max. He reached out for her just before Evan and Hen tried to get him on a backboard to try and move him.

His lips curved into a tender smile and he gave her ankle a squeeze. "Thank you."

That was a close call.

***

(Y/n) turned away from the ambulance she was re-stocking when a hand gently squeezed her shoulder. She turned and looked across to the left, smiling when she realised it was Hen coming up behind her.

"You've got a visitor."

Her eyes narrowed quizically and she grinned until she looked behind Hen to see who she was referring to. (Y/n) wasn't sure why, but her first instinct was thinking of the kids, even though Chris would still be at school right now and Tate was at daycare. Neither of her kids would be here to visit her and Eddie at this time unless there had been some kind of problem or emergency. And since both her husband and brother were on shift with her, it couldn't have been them.

It was Max. The sight of him stood near the front of the fire engine made (Y/n)'s stomach bubble up with anxiety and she could feel her mood deflating.

She nodded and tried to smile at Hen who took the clipboard from her to take over re-stocking the ambulance so (Y/n) could go and see her 'visitor'.

Her hands slid into her back pockets and she tilted her head down as she headed over to approach Max. He was stood with a beaming smile on his face that looked like a somewhat cocky grin and it made (Y/n) shudder.

This was the third time he had stopped by the station to see her. At first, it had been sweet. He came by and hugged her and thanked her for saving him last month. (Y/n) had been overcome with relief and happiness that he was okay and she had done something good and helped someone. It was always endearing to see some of the people they helped come back and see them and to know how they were doing.

The second time, (Y/n) had been a little uneasy about it. He had no reason to come back and see her, but he came by the station again. He asked how she was and did some small-talk and even tried to take (Y/n)'s hand. She had been relieved when the bell sounded and she had to say a quick goodbye and head out to a call.

Now he was back again and (Y/n) dreaded to think why.

"Hi (Y/n)."

"Hi Max, how are you? Hen said you're here to see me?" (Y/n) plastered a fake smile on her face and tried to stay casual and look relaxed. Her hands stayed in her back pockets and she leaned her head to the side, but her anxiety spiked when he took three steps closer.

She had deliberately stood with an air of space between them for safety and respect, but Max had closed that distance completely. He stood so close his shoes bumped against her boots and she could almost feel each breath he took.

"I'm great, thanks to you. The woman who saved me. I thought I'd stop by and see how you are, and thank you."

"Oh, you know, that's really not necessary… this is my job, I was there to help. You don't have to keep thanking me."

If every person they helped kept coming back to thank them again and again like this, none of them would ever leave the station, they would be that swamped. Max didn't have to thank (Y/n) anymore and he didn't have to keep stopping by. He was the one who had been hurt and in danger, not (Y/n). He had no reason to come by and check in on her as if she had been hurt by saving him.

"Then let me take you out."

Panic bubbled away in (Y/n)'s chest. She watched his lips curve into a cheesy smile and he looked her up and down before he leaned his head closer, waiting impatiently for a response.

He wanted to take her out. Hadn't he noticed she was wearing a wedding ring? Didn't he realise it was rather strange to keep coming by the station to check in with her and thank her so many times like this?

"Max… I'm flattered, truly. But I'm married." Sliding her hands out of her pockets, (Y/n) gingerly flashed her left hand for him to see her engagement and wedding ring. She didn't want him to think she was lying to him to try and put him off. She really was married and she was happier than she'd ever been now she was with Eddie.

"You're married?" His tone dampened immediately and the hurt was evident on his face.

It almost made (Y/n) feel bad, as if she had been leading him on and now had to let him down.

"Hm, my husband works here too. I don't think he'd be too impressed if I went out with you." She tried to make a light joke to see if it would lessen the tension but it didn't work.

Max took a daring step closer to her until their chests were pressed together and (Y/n) had to take three steps back to keep some space between them. Her hands moved to hold out in front of her when Max tried to walk up to her again. Being close to him wasn't going to change her mind.

(Y/n) didn't want to go out with him. She was married to Eddie and he was very protective. He wouldn't take too kindly to someone asking her out and then not taking no for an answer.

"I'll deal with him, come on let me take-"

"Max, no. You're sweet, but I love my husband and my kids, I can't go out with you."

(Y/n) flinched and pulled her wrist away sharply when Max reached out to try and grab her. She wasn't sure what he thought he could do, pull her close and tell her he wouldn't take no for an answer. Or maybe he thought being close and trying to kiss her would get her to change her mind.

She was married. She had Eddie and two kids and her life was perfect the way it was. (Y/n) wasn't going to leave her family, leave Eddie, because someone like Max thought her doing her job meant they were supposed to be together.

Turning her head to the right, (Y/n) locked eyes with Evan and she bit her lip, moving her hand to scratch the back of her neck. An anxious habit that she knew Evan would recognise.

They had a system. Evan had codewords for when he wanted (Y/n) to step into a situation or take him away, especially involving their parents. And (Y/n) would scratch her neck and stare down her big brother until he came to help. Throughout their childhood they had used little looks and code signs to help each other out and right now, (Y/n) needed some help.

She watched Evan put his mug of coffee down and jog towards her, trying not to make it too obvious that he was now worried and confused.

"I think you should go now, Max." (Y/n) bound her arms around her chest but she stumbled back when Max clenched his hand around her arm.

She could feel her lungs deflating and her throat closed up when he stepped closer just as Evan reached them. Evan grabbed his wrist and yanked his hand off (Y/n)'s arm in one swift motion.

"Is there a problem here?" He felt (Y/n) move to stand behind him and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stick up and a shiver rolled down his spine. What was going on here to get his sister so worried? Evan recognised this man. He was on their call out, the man (Y/n) dragged out of his car. What was he doing here at the station and why was he harrassing Evan's sister?

"Nothing that concerns you, pal. Back off."

"(Y/n), you okay?" He looked over his shoulder and managed to relax a little when (Y/n) nodded but her arms stayed bound around her chest out of nervous habit.

"Oh, I get it. You're the husband, right?" Max squared his shoulders and planted his hands on his hips, but the panic was clear in his eyes when Evan turned sharply to look at him.

Evan's eyes dragged up and down Max's frame, taking him in and assessing how best to deal with him. He didn't look like much competition and if he continued, Evan would gladly throw him out of the station. He needed a valid reason to be here and harrassing one of their team members was not a good enough reason to stay.

"No, pal. I'm the brother, so why don't you step away from my sister before I have to restrain you. It's time for you to leave."

When Evan shoved his hand into Max's chest and gave him a forceful push backwards, (Y/n) backed up. She turned and hurried past the truck and over towards the stairs. She wasn't hanging around to cause a scene, the longer she stayed the more irritated Max was going to get so she needed to excuse herself from the situation.

And she wanted Eddie. This was the third time Max had turned up to the station and she didn't like it. She needed to tell Eddie and make him aware just in case Max tried his luck coming by the station again.

Eddie wouldn't let him hang around. If he clocked Max from now on, he wouldn't hold back like Evan was trying to do right now. If someone tried upsetting his wife, they would get Eddie's wrath.

(Y/n) was so consumed looking over her shoulder at Evan that she didn't realise she had reached the top of the stairs, or that Eddie was right in front of her. She barrelled into his chest and grabbed his shoulders to steady herself while Eddie's hands fell to her hips and he kept her tucked into his chest. His lips curved into a smile as he pecked her temple.

"You okay babe?" Eddie watched (Y/n)'s panicked eyes bolt up to him before she looked back over her shoulder. And he followed her gaze to where Evan was clearly arguing with someone and pushing them towards the exit. "Who's he talking to?"

He glided his hands up and down (Y/n)'s arms until her hands moved to grip his shoulders and she dug her nails into his biceps, making him worried.

"Max, the guy from that car wreck last month… he keeps calling by the station."

Leaning forward, (Y/n) tucked her face into Eddie's chest and glided her hands down his arms until she could wrap them around his chest instead. Her hands splayed out on his back and she dragged her fingertips up and down his back, drawing aimless patterns to give herself something to focus on. She felt the way Eddie tensed and stiffened in front of her and she didn't need to look up to know his jaw was locked tight.

"He's coming by to see you, specifically?"

"He asked me out, he wasn't very happy when he found out I'm married." (Y/n) tilted her head back so her chin was pressed into Eddie's chest, allowing her to look up at him.

She felt the way his fingers dug into her hips before he weaved his hands around and wormed them beneath the waistband of her trousers. He kept her chest meshed tightly into his own and his head tilted down to kiss her temple, but he looked fuming.

"If he comes near you again, I'll deal with him." If Max came by the station any more to try and see or talk to (Y/n), he would be dealing with Eddie. (Y/n) had said no. She said she was married and turned him down. He couldn't just ignore her and pretend that it didn't matter and keep trying his luck with her.

(Y/n) had Eddie and she didn't want anyone else. Max was going to realise that sooner or later.

***

"I'll see you later baby." (Y/n) pressed a kiss on Tate's cheek and gave her a tight squeeze before she let go. She watched the two-year-old wander into the house and nodded at the daycare assistant, whispering a quiet "Thank you," before she turned round.

Chris was at school, Tate was now safely at daycare for the afternoon. (Y/n) could head off to work and see Eddie for a few hours before his shift ended and he came to pick up the kids.

(Y/n) made her way back to the car and climbed in, turning the radio up as she pulled away and began to drive. She was doing an afternoon shift into the evening and would finish around eleven o'clock tonight. (Y/n) didn't like working into the evening like this. She didn't do many night shifts anymore, they didn't work well with her body clock anymore and someone had to be home with the kids during the night.

Her fingers began tapping on the steering wheel and her head nodded as she hummed along to the radio and tried to concentrate.

She could feel her mind beginning to wander and she smiled when she thought about being able to see Eddie. She wouldn't have Tate fighting her for Eddie's attention or Chris wanting to join in on their hugs. (Y/n) could just have her husband to herself for a few hours.

Someone was flashing her.

Panic dwelled deep in (Y/n)'s chest and she tried to get a good look in her rear-view mirror but she didn't recognise the car behind her. It couldn't have been anyone she knew, any friend or someone from the station trying to get her attention.

Her eyes diverted down to look at her dashboard to see if she had any warning lights on. Maybe she had a break light out and the person behind was trying to tell her. Maybe one of her tyres was starting to get a slow puncture and the person behind was trying to tell her to pull over before it got worse.

(Y/n) began slowing down and flicked her indicator on to pull over but she stopped herself when she looked back in the mirror.

Slowing down allowed (Y/n) to look in her mirror and see who was driving behind her as the car behind slowed down too.

Max.

He was driving right behind her and his indicator was flashing too. He wanted her to pull over.

Suddenly, (Y/n) didn't believe she was getting a puncture or any lights were out on her car. She had a horrible, dreaded feeling that if she pulled over, Max would try something. He would try asking her out or try and make her get out of the car. She didn't know what he would try and do, but (Y/n) didn't want to wait around to find out.

She turned her indicator off and increased her speed back to the limit. She was only five minutes away from the station. She needed to get to work and see if Max tried to follow her there. If he did, (Y/n) could get Eddie or Evan to go and have a word with him because he couldn't keep doing this.

She moved over into the outside lane and sped up, overtaking two cars to try and keep some distance between herself and Max before she turned off onto a side road. Only a few more turns and she would be at the station.

Max was behind her again.

Adrenaline fuelled (Y/n)'s stomach when she noticed he was flashing his lights at her again. When she looked in the mirror, she could see him sticking his hand out his window to flag her down but she couldn't make out what he was trying to say or indicate. Clearly he wanted her to stop, that much was obvious. But (Y/n) wasn't pulling over. She wasn't about to get herself into a tricky situation.

He drove so close (Y/n) couldn't see his number plate in her mirror anymore and she couldn't risk speeding and get a ticket.

"Oh God, Eddie you'd better not be out on a call," She muttered quietly to herself as she sat forward in her seat and clung tighter to the steering wheel.

A scream burst past (Y/n)'s lips and her chest crashed into the wheel when Max rammed his bonnet into the back of her car.

He'd hit her. He'd actually gotten close enough to force her car forward and most likely dint her boot. What the Hell did he think he was doing? She didn't want to stop for him, couldn't he see that?

He couldn't just go around ramming into her, there were other cars on the road. The person behind him pressed their horn loud enough for (Y/n) to hear and cringe. She kept her foot on the gas until she reached the next turning.

Her body began to shake and her eyes began to water when Max rammed into her car again on the corner. She jostled to the right and hit the curb, barely managing to keep the car on the road when he did it a third time and caused the car to begin juttering down the street.

She wasn't going to make it into the car park round the back.

When Max pulled out beside her and tried to overtake and presumably cut her off, (Y/n) slammed her foot on the brake. She stopped so harshly her chest bashed into the wheel and her neck twinged when her head snapped forward.

(Y/n) was close enough to the station. She was two feet away from the doors, parked hazardly just before the station door so she wasn't blocking the entrance for the trucks, but she was close. She couldn't keep going and get into the car park. Max was going to cut her off. She had to stop now and get out before he drove her off the road and caused a crash.

Tears streaked down (Y/n)'s face when she stumbled out the car at the same time she saw Max hurrying to get out of his own car that was parked five feet ahead of hers.

"(Y/n)! Wait- where do you think you're going?"

Her feet scuffed against the pavement and her breaths got stuck in her throat as her lungs began to heave and burn. She could feel them shrivelling up in her chest and her throat ached when she tried to breathe but all she could do was gasp.

She swung herself around the corner of the door and stumbled into the station before she tripped.

Her hands scraped against the polished floor and something mixed between a gasp and a cry croaked past her lips when she went down on her knees.

(Y/n) scuffed her feet on the floor and bent her wrist at an odd angle to push herself back up and try to run. She had to keep moving. She had to move until she was at the very back of the station or up stairs, surrounded by her team so she would be safe. If she stayed near the door Max would grab her. She just knew he would.

"Babe- wow, wow what's wrong? (Y/n) stop!" Eddie hopped down from the ladder on the back of the truck he was cleaning when his eyes locked on his wife.

He tossed the cleaning rag down into the soap bucket and reached his left arm out, securing it around (Y/n)'s waist when she tried to rush past him. His hand clamped down on her hip and his other hand held the back of her neck and reeled her into his chest.

She ran at such a speed that when Eddie stopped her, the momentum she had crashed his back into the side of the truck and her weight fell on his chest with a thud. He groaned but kept his arms tight around her, taking a second to clear his vision and look down at her.

"Baby what's happened? Talk to me?"

Eddie tilted his head down and moved his hand from the back of (Y/n)'s neck to cup the side of her face. He brushed his thumb across her chin and up her jaw while he felt her fingers scrunch up in his shirt so tightly she almost burst through the material.

"Baby-"

"Max!" (Y/n) spluttered the name before she tried to tuck her face into Eddie's neck, but he wouldn't let her. He leaned back into the truck and tilted her head back so he could look down at her. His thumb pulled at her lower lip and he frowned when he realised how badly she was gasping.

She was going into a panic attack.

"The guy from before? Baby what's he done, did he hurt you?" Both Eddie's hands moved to cup (Y/n)'s neck and he looked her up and down to see if he could find any injuries he needed to worry about. But he felt (Y/n) shake her head in his grip.

Her hands moved to cup his wrists and she tilted her head forward, gasping for air as her body started to shake. She could feel her knees about ready to give way beneath her and her stomach hurt from how deeply it was pulling in, trying to prompt her to take a proper breath.

"H- rammed t-the car… t-tried to crash me."

"He tried to run you off the road?!" Eddie reached up and swiped his thumbs beneath her eyes to wipe away the tears that continued to fall. He could feel the anger fizzling in his veins when (Y/n) nodded.

Someone had tried to cause his wife to have a crash. The same someone that had been hanging around the station to talk to her and try to ask her out. He had tried to hurt her and clearly he had managed to spook her.

"Where's Tate? Is she at daycare?" Eddie looked around as if he was half expecting their toddler to be running around looking for help. But when (Y/n) nodded, Eddie sighed. That was one less thing to worry about. At least (Y/n) didn't have the kids in the car with her when Max did this. That would have been a whole lot worse with Tate frightened and potentially hurt in the back.

A pitiful cry left (Y/n)'s lips when she glanced her head to the left and realised Max was stood in the doorway to the station.

He had followed her. He had tried to come in after her to find her.

Her nails scratched into Eddie's wrists and she wrangled out of his arms to move behind him. (Y/n) bound her arms around Eddie's waist and hid behind him, praying Max wouldn't see her and that Eddie wouldn't leave her to go and cause a fight. Her fingers scrunched up into Eddie's shirt across his chest and her face pressed tightly into his back between his shoulder blades while her chest merged into his back like she was trying to glue them together into one person.

"Buck!" Eddie looked up towards the stairs when he saw his brother-in-law beginning to walk down. "He's back! He's tried to run (Y/n) off the road. Don't let him leave."

Evan paused, coffee cup halfway towards his lips before he realised his little sister was shaking, hiding herself behind Eddie like a frightened child needing protection. He looked around the station to where Eddie was pointing and the moment he locked his gaze on Max, he dropped his cup and bolted into a run.

Eddie tried to move but he couldn't go anywhere when his wife was attached to his back and he could feel her barely breathing into his shirt.

He reached a hand behind him to hold (Y/n)'s hip and he slowly turned around in her arms. He cupped the back of her head and leaned his forehead down against hers with their noses touching and his other arm tight around her waist to keep her pinned into his chest.

"Baby… baby you need to breathe with me, okay? Come on, deep breaths…"

When (Y/n) kept gasping and taking shallow breaths, Eddie shook his head before he swooped in and kissed her. He pulled her lower lip between his and pinned her chest into his own, feeling her holding her breath rather than trying to take fifty tiny breaths all at once.

He nudged his nose into hers and pulled his lips back just enough for (Y/n) to take a deep breath, then he connected their lips again. Not giving her the chance to start hyperventilating. He didn't want her passing out, he wanted her to hold her breath and try to copy his breathing so she could calm down.

"That's it, good girl." He murmured softly into her lips which he swiped his tongue across when he felt (Y/n)'s hands grip his shoulders tightly. "Are you alright, are you hurt?"

(Y/n) shook her head and leaned forward to bury her face in Eddie's neck. She had been shaken up but she didn't get hurt when Max crashed into her. She had been lucky he didn't manage to grab her when she got out the car either, (Y/n) had had a lucky escape.

"Good… can you go tell Bobby to call Athena?" Eddie trailed his hands down to (Y/n)'s hips and started walking her backwards until she was near the stairs. They needed to get Athena down here to make a report and arrest Max. No one was going to let him get away with this.

(Y/n) tightened her hands on Eddie's shoulders and tried to pull him back into her as a frown formed on her face. She didn't know what he was doing when he let go of her hips and gently uncurled her hands from him.

"W-where are you going?"

"I told you if he comes near you, he'll be dealing with me." As much as Eddie wanted to stay with (Y/n), he knew the rest of the team could stay with her and wait with her for the police to come down here.

Eddie wasn't letting this go. Max had started stalking his wife and frightening her and Evan had already told him to stay away and not to dare come back and he wasn't listening. He could of caused (Y/n) to crash. If Tate was in the car that would have been both Eddie's girls in danger. He wasn't letting Evan have all the fun of restraining Max and making sure he didn't get away.

"Baby no-"

"He's gonna need an ambulance when I'm finished with him."

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Simmer #1

CH1. Home Style | The Menu [3.7K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

Jim’s Midnight Grill wasn’t the magical place the name made it sound like.

In fact, it was worse at night. Hawkins' only diner sat on the outskirts of town, just before the road that took you out alongside the cornfields. In the height of a sunny day, the water tower cast a shadow over the old building and the gas station next door only had one working pump.

The leather booths were constantly sticky, the table tops grainy with spilled salt, but if you made your visit on a Thursday night after nine, milkshakes were two for one. The back alley was littered with cigarette butts, graffiti on the walls telling you who to call for a good time— and someone called King Steve used Farah Fawcett hairspray? The regulars were permanent fixtures on the bar stools, coffee stains on the counter in front of them, stolen sugar packets in their pockets, frowns on their faces.

The staff didn’t want to be there, the owner refused to replace the flickering lights and the cook had a bad attitude and liked to communicate with heavy sighs and eye rolls. But he made a mean grilled cheese. The walk in freezer was reserved for the pitiful weekly deliveries and breakdowns, a stolen kiss or two. Or three, or four. But no one liked to tackle the clogged sink and god forbid anyone change the TV channel— Mr Creel always had something to say about it.

—————

Honestly, Hawkins wasn’t your first choice when you decided to move to a smaller place. The idea of a big city was all fine and well until you lived a year in Chicago, the dream of a brownstone apartment quickly disappearing when you realised jobs were hard to come by and finding friends was even harder. Living alone wasn’t all that fun, especially when your landlord hinted at sexual favours to justify late payments and he didn’t care to fix the leaking radiator in your bedroom. The nights were never quiet and the city hardly slept, but instead of neon lights and late night bodega runs, you lay awake on the broken spring in your bed and flinched at the sound of backfiring cars and people arguing on the street below.

It was lonely, living somewhere so big and busy and always eating dinner by yourself. So you sold the old car you didn’t really use and cried enough that your landlord eventually gave in and ripped up your lease that still had four months to go. Packing your stuff was an easy enough job, hardly enough belongings to fill the duffel bag you’d dragged with you. You dug into the back of your freezer for the wad of cash your grandma gave you, threw it into the bag and grabbed your greyhound ticket and decided you’d get off the bus when the skyline turned a little more green. When the buildings shrunk, when the smog lifted and when wildflowers sprouted from between the cracks in the sidewalk.

So you rolled into Hawkins before the day broke, way before the sun crept up over the quarry, before the small town came alive. The apartment you’d found was the same tiny size as the one you’d had in Chicago but it was cleaner and the carpet was new. Nothing leaked. Nothing smelled weird. The parking lot was filled with cars and none of them had bullet holes in the side, your trash can wasn’t on fire and god, god, the first neighbour you saw - an elderly woman who was walking with a yorkie on a leash - smiled at you.

She smiled at you.

So despite the lack of twenty four hour stores and pizza parlours, Hawkins was already looking up. There wasn’t much on the Main Street, a library, a tiny bakery run by a couple who offered you a free croissant as a welcome to town gift. There was an outdoor pool with sun bleached bunting across its chain link fence, an arcade next to a video store, a high school that was derelict due to the summer months. The larger houses across from the park were lined with cherry trees, neat lawns with white mailboxes and flowers under the windows and suddenly Hawkins was a million miles away from Chicago and the buzz of traffic and car horns.

The librarian let you print out some resumes the day after you’d settled in, and you found your way around town by asking kind strangers, buying a coffee and a breakfast sandwich in exchange for directions out of your neighbourhood. It was easy to stroll along the sidewalk with an iced latte and your headphones around your neck, blue skies above you and the sound of sprinklers in their yards, breathing in air that didn’t smell like diesel. You found a man by a rundown garage, white haired and tired looking, mechanic scrubs tied around his waist as he smoked a cigarette.

You took a deep breath, and then another one, smiling politely - warily - as you approached. The man lifted a brow at you, a little suspicious, but he held the burning stub away from you, smoke billowing in the opposite direction.

“You lost, kid?”

You were. Just a little.

“I’m looking for Jim’s, uh,” you glanced down at the pink flyer that had been pinned on the library's notice board. “Jim’s Midnight Grill? I got told it was out this way, but—”

You looked around, noting that there wasn’t much out this way. The busiest part of Hawkins was behind you, tidy sidewalks giving way to long roads out of town, a lone bus stop by the garage, a farm in the distance across the street. You squinted against the sun and shrugged.

“You wanna keep going for ‘nother mile or so, it’s just before the town sign,” the man pointed further out where the cornfields were overgrown and the sun faded billboard told everyone ‘thanks for visiting Hawkins!’ You weren’t sure the bus ran that far out. “Jim should be there, but if he’s not, jus’ ask for Eddie, he’ll sort you out.”

“Eddie,” you nodded, peering into the distance. You couldn’t see another building, but this man didn’t seem like he was lying. “Right, okay. Just keep to the road?”

The man nodded and he cracked a smile, small but soft. He stubbed out the end of his cigarette and gestured to an old pick up that looked like it had seen better days. “You needin’ a ride?”

The urge to say yes was strong, especially after walking all the way from your apartment as the heat soared. It snuck up on you like a slow roll, going from pleasant to warm to too hot, far too quickly. Beads of sweat clung to your skin underneath your sundress but you shook your head, shyness crawling up the back of your neck. Accepting a ride from a stranger didn’t seem the wisest idea, no matter how kind he seemed.

“It’s okay,” you told him. “Thank you, though. I appreciate the help.”

The man smiled again, a little bigger this time, crows feet crinkling, the sunlight catching the white of his five o’clock shadow. “That’s alright, kid. Jus’ tell ‘em Wayne sent you, yeah? Follow the road, you’ll see Forest Hills - the trailer park - keep going a lil’ ways and it’s right across the road.”

It turned out Wayne was right.

You kept walking, the heat soaring, the fields on either side of you growing taller but you bit back a smile at the sight of the wildflowers that snuck through the cracks in the concrete. Eventually they gave way to a trailer park, just as Wayne side, a quaint place that hummed with generators and had lines of laundry between each mobile home. Across the road sat a sandy lot, a diner in the middle, a neon sign letting passer-bys know they’d arrived at Jim’s Midnight Grill. Except the ‘r’ was loose, hanging from its wire and buzzing blue and purple.

Cats patrolled along the roadside, going from trailer doorsteps to the back alley of the diner, hoping and waiting for a free meal that they all knew would eventually come. You stopped to pet an orange kitten, a little scruffy looking thing but cute all the same, your CV clutched in one hand as you peered suspiciously at the front of the restaurant. It looked too quiet, like it wasn’t open yet. But there was a black van parked along the side of the building and some steam leaked from a vent on the roof, so you opened the front door.

The bell jingled but the patrons at the dining bar who sat on their stools didn’t move, didn’t turn to look. The place was nearly empty, some people nursing a coffee, some staring blankly at the buzzing television screen that was mounted in the corner. No one stood at the host desk, the menus stacked messily, the phone off the hook. In fact, there wasn’t a server to be seen as you made your way to the counter. You grimaced as you leaned on the surface, elbows sticky, avoiding spilled coffee the best you could. You waited, resume still in your hand, patience on your features.

No one came.

So you rang the bell that was on the bar top for the very purpose of gaining attention, but the man beside you glared at the noise. Still, no one came. The fans overhead squeaked and whirred, the TV fizzed with bad signal and from somewhere behind the open serving hatch, you heard the clatter of pots and pans. You tried to crane your neck to see through the window, steam and smoke billowing from it, the slight shadow of maybe a person moving through it.

The person swore, dropped a skillet and swore again.

You leaned in further, elbows on spilled salt grains and drops of ketchup, trying to gain a better view into the kitchen from the bar top. “Hey, ‘scuse me? Can I— can someone—”

You huffed as the figure moved out of sight, falling back onto the stool that squeaked and the man next to you snorted into his coffee cup. You frowned and took further action, sundress falling back around your thighs as you hopped off the chair and made your way to the side of the counter that lifted up. No one paid you any mind, no one at all, but you still hesitated before ducking under the bar and hovering by the hatch. You could smell garlic and sage and something a little sweet now you were closer, the scents of the kitchen winning over the stale coffee, cigarette smoke and engine oil that clung to the patrons clothes behind you.

You peered into the kitchen, your paperwork still clutched to your chest. It wasn’t much cooler in here than it was outside, the AC unit broken and the fans working overtime to combat the heat. The kitchen seemed empty now, a stovetop still on despite no one to supervise it, flames licking high up the sides of a steel pot, big enough for you to fit both feet in. There was something inside bubbling, foam rising to the top and chopped courgette and red onions sat on the workbench beside it, abandoned. A radio played, staticky and fuzzy, an old sixties tune floating out to mix with the smoke.

“Come a little bit closer, you’re my kind of man. So big and so strong, come a little bit closer, I’m all alone.”

“H-hello?” You cleared your throat and braced yourself to speak a little louder. Stronger. Braver. “Hello?”

No one answered. In fact, it seemed like the entire diner was run by ghosts, no waiting staff, hosts or cooks to be seen. Maybe you’d imagined the silhouette in the smoke, maybe the heat was finally getting to you.

“No customers back here, what d’you think you’re doin’?”

You startled, jumping back a little only to knock an elbow into a half filled coffee pot, the brown liquid thankfully lukewarm but it still spilled across the countertop, soaking into stray packets of sugar and scattered napkins.

“Oh, fuck, uh—” you grabbed at whatever dry napkins were left, hurriedly mopping up the spill before it dripped to the floor. Old coffee dotted the red and cream tiles, into the gaps between your sandals. You grimaced and looked up, only half paying attention. “Shit, I’m really sorry, I just— there was no one there and—”

You stopped, swallowing hard, cheeks hot, eyes wide. The person in front of you was half hidden behind the serving hatch, but he was scowling through the window with a ladle in his hand. Big brown eyes, unnervingly expressive and dark hair to match, unruly looking curls that were pulled back with an elastic band in a bun that wouldn’t have passed a health inspection.

A boy, unfairly pretty, and annoyed looking with tattoos peeking out from his chef whites, a black paisley printed bandana knotted around his neck. There was a furrow between his brow, lines etched there so deep that it made you think they were a permanent fixture on his handsome face.

“—no customers behind the cash desk, sweetheart, you look bright enough to understand that.”

Your mouth fell open, a burn creeping across your cheeks. Annoyance settled in your chest but you realised you weren’t quite brave enough to do anything about it. So you lifted your resume and slapped it on the hot steel ledge that separated the kitchen from the coffee bar. “No one’s working,” you tried to explain, gesturing with one hand to the empty diner behind you. “I rang the bell—”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” The boy scoffed, raising a tattooed forearm to wipe away the sheer layer of sweat from his brow. “Havin’ a spa day? Shit, no one rings the damn bell, don’t you know that?”

You scrambled for a response, the burn on your face growing hotter, an awful clawing feeling coming across your chest. You swallowed, your throat tight, but you pointed at your CV once more. “I’m here for the job opening. I need to speak to Jim? About the kitchen porter role?”

The stranger laughed, a breathy thing that you didn’t think was supposed to come across as mean as it did, but it stung all the same. You shrunk a little, a hardly seen thing as the boy turned his head to check on whatever was bubbling in the big pot. “Look, sweetheart, I don’t wanna be a dick about it, but uh, I don’t think you’re cut out for the kitchen - sorry.” He turned back to you, a slightly more apologetic look on his face instead of the frown. “You understand, right?”

You were speechless, just for a second. Blinking away the confusion, you made noise of protest as the boy started to move away. Your hand touched his bicep and he swivelled back, scowling once more. You snatched your hand away, glancing at your fingertips as if the ink from his tattoos would have stained them black.

“Sorry— it’s just, I, I need a job.” You swallowed, hoping none of the customers could hear your desperate plea. “I just moved into town and honestly, I’ll take anything, like anything. I’m supposed to talk to Jim— or Eddie?”

The boy seemed to mull over your words for a second or two, a passing of sympathy or something just as kind coming over his features. He sighed and shrugged, turning away to stir the pot before it boiled over and he shouted at you through the smoke and steam. Not meanly, just enough for his voice to be heard over the music, the hissing of the stove, the hum of the freezer. “I dunno where Jim is, sorry.”

You deflated, sliding your stack of papers off of the ledge and back to your chest. You tried not to appear too frustrated as you asked, “what about Eddie? Someone - a guy, at the garage - he told me to ask for Eddie.”

The ladle clanged against the pot, some soup - or maybe stew - spilling out the sides. The boy frowned at the mess, dragging a rag over the spots before he glanced up at you. You tried to smile, tried to tamp down the watery doe eyes you knew you couldn’t help but have on show, but you felt desperate. Leaving Chicago with nothing more than the bag on your back and no plans was suddenly seeming like an awful idea.

“Sorry,” the stranger said again. “I dunno an Eddie.”

—————

Sitting in a sticky leather booth in the corner of Jim’s Midnight Grill for another hour turned out to be worth it.

Just before two o’clock, a man walked in, greeting the same customers who were still nursing their coffees with a muttered ‘hello,’ a familiar thing that everyone grunted back at. He was a tall man, broad shouldered with a moustache and a shaved head that was covered with a battered wide brimmed hat. He looked more cowboy than business owner, checked shirt dirt covered boots and all, but you heard someone call him Jim and you were up and running after him.

Your sneakers stuck to the linoleum tiles, the ‘shtick shtick shtick’ of your soles pattering between the aisles of empty tables until you caught up with the man just before he disappeared into the kitchen. He raised his brows at your sudden appearance at his elbow, wide eyed and hopeful as you clutched the same resume you’d tried to hand the cook, the pieces of paper stained with coffee now.

The man lifted his chin to a small table before you could speak, gesturing to two chairs by the window. You startled, wondering what was happening as he pulled out a seat and pointed at you to sit in the other one.

“You’re new, right?” The man - Jim - fumbled with a packet of cigarettes, most of them crushed and bent, but he found a good one to lift to his lips. He lit it and blew smoke upwards, staining the already yellowing ceiling. “Here, in town?”

You nodded, unsure how he knew that. You guessed that news travelled fast in a place as small as Hawkins, so you decided to elaborate for the sake of talking. “Uh, yeah. From Chicago. I’m inquiring about the, um, the porter job?”

“What’s your name?” Jim leaned forward in his chair and poked gently at your forearms. “You don’t got a lot of scars, you done soft jobs? No kitchen stuff before?”

The AC unit kicked in and rattled a vent above you as you stared at the man, trying to work out what he meant. Stammering, you told him your name and passed over a resume, pointing out your last few jobs, doing your best to try and make them sound more professional than they actually were.

Librarian's assistant.

Barista. For two weeks.

Cashier at a knock off Chuck E. Cheese.

“I guess they’re what you could call, uh,” you squinted Jim, floundering for the word he’d used, “soft jobs. But I’ve got a scar on my knee from pulling a kid out of the ball pit. He’d come straight from little league, he still had his spikes on and there was a considerable amount of blood even th—”

Jim stopped your spiel by jamming a thumb back towards the kitchen hatch. You could still see the boy there, pretty and scowling all the same, a dark curl falling from his hair band to fall over his cheek. You watched him blow it away and flip something in a skillet, the sizzle of it just heard over the music, the bad TV in the corner of the bar.

“You ever worked a kitchen?”

You shook your head, stomach sinking. ‘Fake it til’ you make it,’ failed you once before, and the owner of the coffee shop in Lincoln Park quickly realised you were wasting both your times when she discovered you didn’t know the difference between a mocha and a latte. “No, sir.”

“Our line cook is real particular ‘bout who we put in his kitchen with him,” Jim pointed to the boy, who’d now been joined by someone else. Another male, one with even longer hair, sleek and dark and they seemed to be arguing over blocks of cheese. “Now I don’t think it’s a good idea to throw you in there—”

Dread bubbled in your stomach. If you didn’t manage to land this job, you weren’t sure where else to look. A small town brought on few opportunities, and you’d already exhausted most of the businesses on Main Street. “Sir, please, I—”

“—but there is a waitressing gig available.” Jim frowned as he tried to remember the details. “Full time, forty odd hours if you don’t mind doing lates.”

“Yes!” You blurted out the answer too loud, loud enough for the customers to turn away from the TV screen for a second or two. The boys in the kitchen peered out the hatch, one curious, one annoyed. “Yes, sorry, yes. I’ll take it, thank you.”

Jim nodded and stubbed out the amber end of his cigarette in an ashtray beside the sauce bottles. “Easy enough job, minimum wage, you keep any tips you make.” He listed off each point on his fingers. “You start tomorrow.”

You could only nod back, eager and grateful. “Of course, yeah, sure. Uh— do I need—?”

Jim waved you off, already standing as he lit up another cigarette. “Just come by for eight, Eddie’ll sort you out with a uniform, locker, that kinda stuff.”

You frowned, confused. Looking around the quiet diner, you wondered if there was someone you hadn’t noticed before, but the number of visible staff members remained the same. The two boys in the kitchen, the pretty cool who you’d spoken to back at the stove, tasting its contents with a teaspoon.

“Uh,” you coughed awkwardly, feeling stupid. “I thought— I thought there wasn’t an Eddie who worked here?” You pointed warily to the boy with the messy curls, the black tattoos across his exposed forearms, he was staring at you, like he knew you were talking about him. He was scowling. “He said there wasn’t.”

The noise and heat of the diner and the summer outside didn’t do anything to diminish the embarrassment you felt at Jim’s next words. His gaze followed to where you were pointing and snorted. “Kid, that is Eddie.”

[dylanconrique]

stella being concerned about her ✌️ "car rent payment" ✌️ cause she's worried kelly's gonna kick her out otherwise, even though he's a big softy and would never do that. please, my heart! 🤧💕

[springtyme]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐨 ♡

Carmy x afab!reader || Series masterlist || Series playlist

Can also be read on ao3 || Main masterlist || Next chapter

chapter summary: You moved to Chicago six months ago. You still don’t really feel at home in a new city, far away from friends and family, but you make a new connection one night when your new neighbor almost set your apartment building on fire.

word count: 3.1k

warnings/tags: Eventual smut! (18+, mdni!) Language. Smoking. Angst and fluff. Slow burn. Mutual pining. Strangers to friends to lovers. Set in season one. Vague mentions of Mikey’s situation. Reader is from Copenhagen, or has at least have lived there for a longer period of time, but it isn't directly mentioned that it's her nationality, and no description of appearance is mentioned. Reader's exact age isn't mentioned either, but it is implied that she is around Carmy's age.

"My head and my heart and my hands are longing I just woke up in smoke feeling the heat coming Cause the house is on fire"

Copenhagen, six months ago 

The cool breeze from the water blows gently against your cheeks, and you can’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia creeping in. The calm waters of the harbor glisten in the evening sun, casting a mesmerizing reflection on the nearby buildings. You take a drag of your cigarette, letting the smoke caress your lungs as you contemplate the big changes that lie ahead of you, the smoke swirling around you in a hazy dance. You’re not really supposed to smoke on the platform, but since the station is almost empty you let yourself indulge this one time. You’re leaving all this behind in a week anyway.  

As you stand there, watching a lone seagull glide effortlessly above the water, its wings catching the last rays of sunlight, you can’t shake the feeling of bittersweetness that envelops you. Copenhagen has been your home for so long, filled with memories and familiar faces. But now, Chicago beckons with a new opportunity, and you’re leaving in a week, and you don’t fucking know if you have made the right decision or not. 

You’re going to miss the ocean, that’s for damn sure. You take another puff of your cigarette, the brisk air mixing with the smoke as the golden sun slowly sets over Nordhavn. The colors of the sky shift to hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over the water. The beauty of the moment is not lost on you, but neither is the weight of the decision you’ve made.

These thoughts swirl in your mind as you take a last drag of your cigarette, exhaling slowly as if trying to let go of all your worries. The sound of the approaching train brings you back to the present. You stub out your cigarette, before the red train comes to a stop in front of you, cutting off the view of the water.

With a deep breath, you gather yourself and step onto the train. As the doors close behind you, you find a seat by the window. The familiar rumble of the tracks beneath you lulls you into a sense of calm as the train begins to move. As the train starts to pick up speed, you close your eyes. It’s going to be hard to leave it all behind and start over in a whole new city, but you know deep down that you’re in need of a change.

· · · · ·

Chicago, present day

Carmy can feel the building pressure at the sides of his skull that indicates that a nasty headache is on its way. The wet rag in his hand is feeling mushy between his fingers as the scrubs away at the steel countertop, the rhythmic sound of Gary’s broom sweeping over the floor, matching up with the incipient throbs in his temples.

He needs a fucking break and a cigarette, but he can’t really take one now, he is the one who has been so insistent that they start to take prepping and cleaning of their stations more seriously and he can’t just, fucking, leave in the middle of it, he’ll get the bottle of tylenol in the desk drawer in his office after they’ve finished. 

“Chef, you want me to strain that oil for you?” Sydney asks, her voice cutting through Carmy’s pounding head.   

“Uh, no, no I got it. Thank you, chef.” He’ll finish his station, strain the oil, and then take a break. Unless something else comes up, which there most likely will.  

“Why am I using a toothbrush, chef?” Marcus asks from his place at the stove where he is scrubbing  the burners. 

Carmy blinks, trying to push aside the growing migraine as he explains, “It’s about consistency and being consistent. Can’t operate at a higher level without consistency.” He can’t help but feel a pang of guilt for pushing his team so hard with all these new changes, but he knows they need to seriously step up their game if this place is ever going to be just a little less of a shit show. 

“I like this level,” Richie exclaims. 

“Yeah, well, at The French Laundry you know how much time we’d spend-” Carmy begins, but Richie cuts him off. 

“Well, go fuck your French Laundry. Stupid fucking name.”

And yeah, Richie might be right, it kind of is a stupid name, but Carmy is not about to start a discussion over the fucking name of a French-Californian fusion place.  “All right, then at Noma.”

“Fuck your Noma too,” Richie retorts.

Carmy just shakes his head, deciding to let Richie’s attitude slide for now. He doesn’t have the energy to argue with him, not with the pain in his head steadily increasing. 

“Noma’s the shit, huh?” Marcus chimes in. 

“The best,” Carmy and Sydney respond in unison before Carmy continues. “It’ll teach you to operate at a level you didn’t even know you could operate at, Marcus,” he tells the baker before turning to address Richie again, “And just so we’re clear, I wanted to work here. Mikey wouldn’t let me.”

“Oh, no, no. You went halfway around the world to learn all this fancy, useless fucking bullshit. I went to West Lawrence Avenue and learned every level.” 

“West Lawrence? You’re talking about DeVry?” Marcus asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.  

“Yeah, exactly,” Richie confirms. 

“Oh, DeVry. ‘We’re serious about success,’” Marcus jokes, using an exaggerated deep voice.

“Is that supposed to be fucking funny, fucko?” Richie grins at Marcus before jokingly trying to tackle the younger man who by now has bursted into laughter. “Let me tell you something. No for real,” Richie lets go of Marcus pointing his finger in the air as he continues. “Where else are you gonna learn crucial database management specialization skills, huh? While troubleshooting a vented OptiSpark distributor in a Trans Am?” 

“I would never need to learn that,” Syd interjects, not pleased with Richie’s antics.

“Definitely not Noma!” Richie exclaims.   

“I would legit do anything to go to Noma,” Sydney says longingly.  

“And eat bugs?!” Richie teases.

Those ants had been a fucking pain to work with, but Carmy keeps that to himself, he is not about to give Richie that victory.  

“And be inspired, stupid,”Sydey retorts.

“God, and be lame.” Richie counters. 

But before more can be said about DeVry or inspiration or, fucking, bugs, Ebra storms into the kitchen, interrupting them. “The ice cream machine is broken!”

Just like Carmy had predicted, something else had come up. He turns to Richie. “DeVry teach you to fix that?”

“You know what? Actually, yes.” Richie says, swinging his dish towel over his shoulder before starting to pick up a bunch of random tools and utensils, including two wooden spoons, leaving the room to join Ebra at the ice cream machine.

Another fucking thing in this place that doesn’t work, Carmy should probably just call Fak before Richie can break it even more, but it is not like the old machine can really get much worse, it’s and old piece of shit and almost no one ever orders the ice cream anyway, so why not let Richie feel a little useful.

· · · · ·

A swirl of steam dances in the air as you trace the rim of the mug with your finger, the aroma of the tea is filling the room, mixing with the scent from the lavender candle you have lit, enveloping your senses with a bittersweet nostalgia. 

You are sitting in your kitchen, staring out of the window, another night unable to sleep. The vague sound of the city filters through the glass along with the warm glow from the street lights and signs which are the only cause of light  along with the candle, its flickering flame casting a gentle shadow upon the room.   

You take a sip of the tea, feeling the warmth travel down your throat, before wrapping your hands around the warm mug, seeking comfort in its gentle heat. The steam rises and dissipates into the air, mirroring the ephemeral pattern of your tired thoughts. Outside the window, the city continues its nocturnal rhythm, its heartbeat resonating with your own. The distant sounds of car horns, and the occasional sound of the L train rumbling by and the vocational sirens mixing together into a harmonious cacophony. 

You close your eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath, but you open them again quickly, wrinkling your nose. Something suddenly smells wrong… It’s vague, but it’s like burning plastic or something. You quickly look down at the candle to check if something got into it, but nothing is there. You don’t get to ponder more about it though, before a sudden, piercing sound slices through the tranquil ambiance of your kitchen. Your eyes widen in surprise as the shrill wail of a fire alarm blares from the apartment next door.

Concerned, you immediately put down your mug, while the smell of smoke starts to get more intense. This would normally be worrying enough, but what’s the real kicker to your concern is that no one’s lived in the apartment next to yours in the last four months. You stand up, stepping into your slippers while grabbing the zip up hoodie you had hanging on the back of your chair. You quickly throw the hoodie around you, slipping your arms into the sleeves and wrapping the oversized garment around you, not bothering zipping it.

You blow out the candle, as you quickly grab your phone, sliding it into the pocket of your sweatpants. You Swiftly make your way through your apartment, stepping out into the hallway, the smell of smoke now stronger. The ear-splitting beeps of the fire alarm continue to echo through the corridor as you approach the door of your neighboring apartment. You hesitate for a moment, You try to listen if you can hear anything from inside, but all you can hear is the sound of the alarm. 

Has someone really moved in without you noticing? But how likely is it that a spontaneous fire starts in an unoccupied apartment? Raising your hand you knock on the door. Nothing happens, and panic grips your chest, thoughts of evacuation and calling the fire department race through your mind, but you are pulled out of your spiraling thoughts as all of a sudden the loud beeping stops and you can now hear a vague shuffling sound from inside the apartment. 

You knock again, your heart beating fastly as you wait. There is someone in there, and you both get worried that they might not be okay and need help while you simultaneously  feel weird about someone being inside the apartment you thought was empty. 

The seconds stretch as you wait for a response. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, but in reality only is a few seconds, the door creaks open, revealing a disheveled figure standing before you, and you are met with a pair of eyes so piercing blue that it catches you off guard.  They belong to a man, around your own age if you have to guess, dirty blonde curls framing his face in a messy, yet oddly charming way. 

He is wearing a white t-shirt, which you can’t help but notice is hugging his biceps extremely nicely, with tattoos scattered across his arms and hands. He has dark circles under his eyes and a look on his face that screams of pure exhaustion, yet his eyes are wide and alert, like someone who has just been woken abruptly.

“Hi,” you stammer, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the man. “I heard the fire alarm and smelled smoke, I just wanted to check that everything was okay, I-I live next door,” you say, sheepishly pointing in the direction of your door. 

“Oh, hi,” the man replies, his voice slightly hoarse and rough, as if he hadn’t spoken in a while, yet soft. “I-I’m so sorry if I woke you. I… I accidentally burnt some shit, I’m sorry,” he says a bit bashfully, his cheeks turning slightly pink. A short moment of silence hangs between you both as you process the situation. 

You can see the genuine embarrassment in his eyes, which brings a sense of ease to your worried mind. He seems harmless enough, just a regular person who made a mistake. You decide to let him off the hook, even though his explanation doesn’t quite match up with the intensity of the burning smell that fills the air, offering him a supportive but also slightly shy smile. “Accidents happen, don’t worry about it. I’m a terrible cook too,” you say, trying to lightning the mood. 

“Well, I’m actually a chef,” he says a little awkwardly. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mea-”, you stammer, trailing off as you realize your unintentional insult, but he cuts you off in the same sheepish tone as you.

“No, no, it’s fine I didn’t mean…” he begins to say before shutting up mid sentence, and the two of you share a brief, awkward but understanding laugh before another silence settles between you. 

Now that you have been made sure that nothing urgent is going on you take a second to take him better in, and you can’t help but notice how attractive you find him, captivated by the piercing blue eyes and intrigued by the subtle tattoos that peek out from under his short sleeves, now realizing that several of them are kitchen themed.

“So, everything’s under control now?” you ask, tearing your gaze from his arms as you realize that you had been staring for a little too long, glancing past him into the apartment. The lingering scent of smoke still hangs heavily in the air.

He nods, running a hand through his rumpled locks. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine now,” he reassures, but the smell of smoke still hangs very heavily in the air.   

You hesitate for a moment, debating whether or not to invite him into your apartment while his gets aired out. You don’t know him, and inviting a stranger into your apartment in the middle of the night isn’t really ideal, but something about his tired eyes and disheveled appearance tugs at your heartstrings, and you can’t shake off the feeling that he might need some company. And with the tired, almost haunted look in his eyes you also can’t help but be reminded of Michael.  

Michael had lived in the apartment next to yours when you moved in six months ago. You did not know him well, but he had always been friendly when you talked to him. He seemed like the type of guy who is friends with everyone, despite it being clear that he was dealing with some internal shit. 

One night you had encountered him in the hallway and he had seemed off. You were on your way home, and he was on his way out. He appeared caught off guard by your presence, and after you greeted him, he had just turned around and walked back into his apartment instead of leaving the building like he was supposed to. Little did you know that it was the last time you would see your old neighbor. A week later, you learned that he had tragically taken his own life on the State Street Bridge, just five days after your last encounter in the hallway.

You have thought about it a lot for the past four months: how he might have planned to go to the bridge the night you ran into him in the hall, and how, if you had done the same just a few days later, things might have turned out differently for him. 

You don’t want to assume that your new neighbor’s situation is as dire, but you also don’t want to underestimate the impact a small act of kindness can have and now, seeing this man standing before you with a similar look of exhaustion and vulnerability, you can’t help but feel a sense of responsibility to offer him some support.

“Hey, um... I know this might sound a little strange, but if you need a place to stay while your apartment airs out, you’re welcome to come to my place,” you offer, your voice filled with genuine concern.

The man’s tired eyes widen slightly, clearly caught off guard by your unexpected invitation. “That’s incredibly kind of you, but I wouldn’t want you to lose any more sleep because of me,” he responds, his voice filled with gratitude and a hint of hesitation. 

You are quick to shake your head, realizing that you never told him that he didn’t wake you. “Oh, you haven’t made me lose any sleep, I was already awake, so please don’t worry about that.” The man’s shoulders relax a bit, a little of the tension melting away. He takes a moment to consider your offer, his gaze flickering between your face and the open doorway of his smoke-filled apartment. The exhaustion in his eyes is undeniable..

“No pressure,” you say softly, breaking the silence. “But, seriously you are more than welcome, I can make some coffee, I got both normal and decaf, or some tea. I also have some leftover takeout in the fridge, I could need some help to get eaten, if you’re hungry.”

The man’s hesitant expression softens, and he offers a grateful smile. “Thank you,” he says, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. “I don’t want to impose, but coffee does sound really good.”

You nod understandingly. “Of course, no imposition at all.”

“Okay, thank you. I’ll just get some of these windows cracked open then,” the man says, stepping back into his apartment and disappearing from view for a moment. You hear the sound of windows being opened, the crisp night air filtering in and mingling with the heavy aroma of smoke. 

You turn your head, for some reason you feel a little rude to stand staring into his apartment even though you just invited him into yours, your eyes landing on the nameplate next to the door. Berzatto. It has not been changed since Michael. 

After a few moments, the man reappears at the doorway, now holding a light jacket under his arm, and his keys, phone and a pack of cigarettes in his hand. His disheveled appearance remains, but there’s a glimmer of gratitude in his tired eyes. 

“Ready to go?” you ask, offering a reassuring smile.

He nods, stepping out into the hall with you. 

“You know, uhm,” you say, pointing at the nameplate. “You can talk to the resident manager.” His eyes following the direction of your finger. “He’ll help you get your name up.”

“Oh, no that’s… that’s me,” he says, sheepishly pointing at the nameplate. “Well, it’s also me,” he explains, a little clumsily, before turning to you again. “I’m Carmen… Carmen Berzatto.”

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated :) let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter ♡

@wittyno

[stellariders]

more of the cast and chik at the wrap party!