warnings: age gap, cheating, alc, swearing, kinda smut, alluding to smut.
summary: richie takes you home after a night at the bar.
richie drove the entire way home, gripping the steering wheel and trying to avoid staring at your loose frame in his passenger seat. but now in his apartment, it was hard to avoid your gaze. "come on, let's get you some water." richie led you to the kitchen and grabbed you a bottle out the fridge. you were propped up against his white countertop as he opened the bottle for you. "thank you" you hummed, clumsily taking a drink.
"how come your boyfriend doesn't care to know where you are right now?" he took a step closer, "he's an asshole" you mumbled beneath your breath. "what was that?" richie laughed at the honest drunk that you were, "you're a sweet girl, what are you doing with some asshole?" you shrugged looking down at your feet. your feet were still strapped in to your black heels and you were reminded of the light throbbing when you stepped onto the ball of your foot. you winced and began reaching down to fumble with the unnecessarily complicated clasp. richie, noticing your struggle, bent down and began undoing the strap of your heels.
"does he even take care of you, sweetheart?" he looked up at you, his hand lingering on your ankle as you lent back on the countertop, grabbing the edge to stabilize yourself. "i don't know what you mean" you unsuccessfully tried avoiding his bright eyes. "don't play dumb, y/n" you let out a sigh as his hand began snaking up your leg, "does he take care you?" richie stood up, now towering over you in his full stature and without your heels to help. you glanced at his rough hand resting on the back of your thigh, his fingertips burned your skin. he tugged down your dress gently, flattened it out like it was instinctual. "does he treat you right," he brought his hand up to play with the ends of your hair, making sure they fell correctly. "does he fuck you right?" his thumb lightly swept your jaw. your mouth fell open, slightly shocked by his question. all you could do was shake your head shamefully and finally meet his gaze. he could see your eyebrows shift and your slight frown, your eyes drowning in want.
"richie-" he cuts you off, "you and i both know what the fuck is going on here, alright? but i'm not doing shit till you give me the word." he spoke firmly. you were still tipsy, more sober than before, and all you could focus on was the hint of liquor that wafted your way each time he spoke and how dark his eyes felt even in their bright color. "I love him." you spoke through your teeth as you played with the hem of richie's shirt, "sure you do." at his words, you tugged him down and crashed your lips into his.
you could taste the shots you had taken and the cigarettes that lingered on his tongue mixing, his mouth was hot and his lips were fast. you let your tongue swipe past his bottom lip, earning a groan from richie. his hands were making a mess of your hair, collecting it in his palm. "fuck get up here" he lifted you slightly to get your ass on the island. you felt the cold marble stinging your thighs as he began attacking your neck, his stubble tickling you. you felt the hairs on your body stand up, you felt guilty. but you think you could bare guilt for the rest of your life if it meant having richie on you. he brought his mouth back to yours, his hand guiding your heads movement into the kiss. he was in control of everything and your thighs squeezed at the thought. you pulled away from him, a faint string of saliva attaching you.
he glanced down at your thighs squeezing together tightly and chuckled, "look at that," he clutched your hair in his hand and brought your head down to take a look at yourself, "your body fucking needs me, doll" his words forced you to let out a whine. "i need you, richie" you managed to let out. richie felt his dick press against his jeans. he brought his hand down to separate your legs, "open", you immediately followed his orders. his words bringing you back to your first encounter behind the beef. you knew from the moment he placed that sapphire smoke in your mouth, you'd do anything he asked. he bunched up your dress to bring it to your hips, you gasped at the sudden cold air. richie took his time taking a look at you, your legs spread on his countertop, hair fucked up, cheeks red, and a wet patch forming on your underwear. "are you wet under there, sweetheart" he teased you, bringing a finger down to swipe across your damp underwear. you gasped at the contact, "you're a big girl, answer me". "fuck richie, yes come on." he smirked at your eagerness and pushed your underwear to the side. he took his finger and swiped it between your folds, he groaned at the feeling of your slick heat against his fingers. "holy shit," he let out a cynical laugh that made you bite down on your puffy lip, "fucking slut. you're pussy has been needing this, huh?". he shoved two fingers inside of you, opening you up on his cold ring. you let out a moan at the feeling of cold metal. richie thrusted his long fingers into you slowly, bringing his thumb to your toy with your clit. "kiss me" you gasped, richie brought his face centimeters from yours, his lips nearly grazing yours. "please?" he questioned you right before your face, "please". he kissed you thoroughly, it felt like he was slowly devouring you. richie wasn't hasty and fast, everything he was doing to you felt excruciating and only added to the burning desire you felt at the pit of your stomach. "hear that, baby?" he pressed his hand against your mouth to shut you up and bring attention to the squelching sound your pussy was making around his fingers. your face turned red at the sound of your own neediness, making you grind harder against his hand. you felt your stomach clenching, the knot getting tighter and tighter as richie massaged your clit that grew more sensitive. you wrapped your hand around richie's wrists, pushing him deeper as you leaned farther back on the counter top. "just like that, richie i'm so fucking close" you begged, looking up at him and taking in the sight of his concentrated face and the gold chain swinging from his neck. "give it to me" his words brought you to edge as you squeezed around his hand and gripped his shirt as you came around his fingers. not eager to waste another minute, you brought your hands to his belt and started unbuckling it with your shaky hands. against the sound of zippers and metal hitting the ground you ears were met with a ring tone you were oh so familiar with.
"fuck me" you sighed annoyed, throwing your head back. "sure can do" richie responded cockily quickly sliding your hips on the island to press against his, earning a whine to slip from your lips. "no richie, fuck, my boyfriend is calling me." you ran your hand threw your hair, "he's been texting me for the last hour." you frantically slid off the countertop and brought your underwear back up your ankles. "tell him to fuck off" richie scoffed ripping your phone from your hands to silence it. "i can't, i have to go" you continued as you brought your dress back down, not even glancing at richie. "hey" richie grabbed your wrist to face you towards him, "i'm not fucking finished with you." his voice deepened, you felt still facing him. "richie he's worried, i have to get home." he brought his fingers up to your lips and you let him slip them in, "you gonna kiss him with that mouth?" you sighed, closing your eyes as you swirled around his fingers that lingered with the remnants of your cum. you swallowed roughly and broke away from him, you bent down to grab your heels, "good night, richie." and made your way out the door.
after your estranged father, mikey berzatto, passes away, who else is there to lean one but his best friend richie?
mike never had to say it out loud, but it was pretty evident that you weren't meant to 'happen'. you were just a reminder that his lifestyle would catch up to him eventually, as it had already done once with you. he tried to be there, bringing you down to the beef on days he could convince your mom to let him see you. he'd keep you in the office with some sandwich wraps to color on and crayons, showing you off to tina and everyone else in the kitchen who had convinced themselves that maybe, just maybe, you would be bear's saving grace. when richie found out mikey had knocked some broad up, he was conflicted. upset because he believed a kid would put a stop to the fun waiting for them in the rest of their twenties and yet to come thirties, slightly relieved because he finally had something worth pushing for. and for a while, you were just that. the staff saw it, richie saw it, you were keeping him just that more sane, just enough. yeah he was a father now but that didn't stop him from joining richie on deal runs, you in the car seat he bought from baby's r us last minute. and until the age of 15, he was (mostly) there, as much as his mind allowed him to be. he had outbursts, your mom didn't want you near him or "that piece of shit restaurant", you and everyone else could tell it was going from okay to bad. and bad quickly became scary, when you wouldn't see him for months. you'd be forced to text richie asking where the fuck your dad was, if he was okay. but richie never had an answer and mike didn't either. but you could see it in his eyes when you would finally stumble upon him after every other month, he had been somewhere inside him that was dark. the longest you went without hearing from him was six months, half a year. your 17th birthday had passed and tina, sugar, pete, ebraheim, cicero, and the rest of the family celebrated with you in the restaurant trying to distract you and themselves from the fact no one, not even richie, could seem to find mike. you saw him one last time, right before he died, after not hearing from him for months he invited you over. it was your second year of college and you were just trying to make it by when you got a call from a number you didn't recognize. you immediately recognized his voice, he was asking you to come over. you reluctantly agreed, being greeted to a messy house with papers everywhere and pill bottles littering little crevices in failed attempts to hide them from himself. that night, he cooked for you one last time. a part of you convinced yourself there was hope left behind his eyes, watching his back profile moving around the kitchen and whipping up a dish like he used to. how he used to sit you on the counter top, made you taste everything with your small hands while richie laughed his ass off at how huge his chain was on you calling you "a fucking g". two months later he shot himself. at the bottom of your stomach behind the sadness and guilt, you almost felt, cathartic? not because he was dead, no. but because you'd never have to wait months to hear from him again, or look down alleyways in hopes of seeing him, or have to look in his eyes and see the glimpse of someone he could have been. you start hanging around the restaurant more despite sugars protests. you never did well coping with your addict father when he was alive, when he'd leave you'd seek that nausea and sinking feeling he brought you elsewhere. it was easy to stumble upon all kinds of trouble, you were young, you were beautiful, and worst of all you were chasing the feeling you knew mike would and could never bring you.
a few months after his death, carmy's recent resurgence, and multiple trips to the bar downtown you decided the comfort of vodka seltzers and the pervy bartender was no longer enough. you were leaving the beef one night, passing by carmy's office to steal his carton of sapphires when you met richie outside for a smoke. "you finally ditch the marbolo red's, kid?" it was a cool spring evening in chicago, you wore your white sundress over warm socks. "you wish, richard" you let out a small laugh, "i'm just saying those are for pansies or hookers no in between, sweetheart." you looked at him baffled by whatever led him to that conclusion. "so what you're saying is the last hooker you had to hire to suck you off smoked malboro's?" you looked at him, reaching into him jean pocket and stealing his lighter. he scoffed, "you know i miss when you didn't have that fucking mouth on ya." he jabbed his cigarette in your direction, clenching his teeth. you chuckled at how easily he got riled up, he just loved arguing. "okay, old man. i'm going down to the bar, you coming or not?" you took a short drag of the cigarette, not used to the taste of carmy's choice in smokes. "why so i can watch you flirt with some jagoff for drinks all night?" he grimaced, "key word is, free, drinks, richie." he stepped on what was left of his cigarette at the word 'free', nodded, and began walking to his car.
richie shamelessly watched your dress hike up the back of your soft thighs as you leaned over the bar to get closer to the bartender. you had that berzatto gift (curse?) of being so fucked up it was hot. richie always felt a tinge of guilt when he perked up at the sight of your legs beneath a skirt, or your cleavage being hugged by your low shirts and dresses. but he told himself it was always okay to look if he wasn't going to do anything about it. and even if he wanted to, he knew mike would've killed him, or carmen, or tina. you sauntered your way back to the table with a round of shots and two beers. "do you have no shame, sweetheart?" he jokingly asked taking his beer into his own hand. "you tell me" you let out before throwing back a shot. he let out a chuckle, you were really something. as you threw your head back with the shot glass he made out the skin and freckles adorning on your neck beneath the dim light. he noticed how quickly you went back for seconds, and a third, until you were leaning over the table speaking to him in a hushed voice. he had downed the same amount as you had, but he was a 45 year old man who towered over you. "richie?" you spoke in a combination of a whisper and giggle, "how much do you wanna bet i can get that guy over there to get us another free round?". richie wouldn't bet a dollar that the guy wouldn't, seeing as he had his eyes glued to your ass the entire night. maybe it was the alcohol, but the guy's looming gaze felt like a god damn bee buzzing in richie's ear. and you entertaining dick's like him made it ten times worse. "god, i never took you as such a slut." he looked at you, eyebrows raised almost mockingly. your tipsy smile fell, "what the fuck, richie". you got up out of the bar stool, making a squeak against the floor and sped your way out the bar. richie took one last swing off his beer before making his way after you. he found you in back of the bar, only illuminated by the yellowish street lamp a few feet away. you were sniffling, crying in between small hiccups. richie kneeled down in front of you and brought his hand to cup your cheek, "you're lost, sweetie, look at you. getting drunk on weekdays and doing god knows what for a free round of drinks. it's not your fault," your tears stopped falling, entranced with how bright his eyes contrasted against the darkness surrounding you as he grabs the hem of your dress toying with it, "you've got no one to guide you, take care of you. you just need someone to take care you, huh?" his voice dripped with a condescension that made something bubble in the depths of your stomach. you nodded your head against his hand, looking at him through wet lashes, "let me help you, doll" he wiped past your tears with his rough thumb. he knew it was wrong, dirty, but he'd rather it be him than some 20 year old schmuck who would pretend to know you. richie knew you, the darkest parts of you. "can you help me, richie? please" you let out quietly. richie smiled, sickeningly sweet, as he brought his thumb down to swipe past your shiny bottom lip that was sticky with lip gloss. you felt your mouth drop open as if his finger took control of you, "poor thing, you've got no clue what to do with yourself. acting like a slut for anybody when you know who you'll come running to." his thumb entered your parted lips, you closed around him swirling your tongue around and humming against him. he let out a groan, "i'm the only one who can take care of you, okay?". you felt like you were floating, between the alcohol and richie's presence consuming you. you stared at his lips with hazy eyes and let go of his thumb with a 'pop', "kiss me" you barely whispered, "don't be rude, doll." he brought his hand down, holding you by the crevice of your neck, "richie, i need you". he roughly brought his mouth down to yours, letting it devour you. you whined into his mouth as he bit down on your lip. he detached himself, a string of saliva connecting you. he brought his hand down his face, staring at your puffy lips. he knew he was fucked.
here's the second part to part 3 of salvatore. ty for all the love guys!! leave me any suggestions
you walked into the dimly light bar with tina as she flung her hands into the air to make your guys' presence known. you immediately spotted richie eyeing you down from his seat next to carmy at the bar, sipping on a beer slowly. you walked up to the group with tina, still feeling his eyes on you. it's not that things had been tense since that night, rather now all his comments felt like he was playing a game with you. like he knew something worth making you feel guilty over. "ok girl, we see you!" sydney pronounced giving you a proud look, you let out a grin at the compliment taking a little spin around yourself, "what can i say". "okay baby, it's tradition that the newbie has to buy everyone a round of shots." marcus looked over at you, you sighed dramatically throwing your head back. "make it a body shot" richie yelled out, earning a shove from carmy. "fine, i'll get to it." you approached the bartender asking for 6 tequila shots. "alright, cheers to... me!" you giggled, throwing back your first shot. after a couple drinks, compliments from the bartender who kept staring down your dress, and begging sydney to join you on the dance floor, you were out there twirling around yourself with your hands gliding over your own skin that was shining under the lights. "baby gets fucked up fast" carmy laughed into his drink. you turned your head at the sound of his voice, meeting eyes with richie's. they looked dark beneath the bar lights, a deep set look on his face as he gripped his beer. you walked towards him, a little wobbly as you made your way through the floor. "richieee" you came up to him, tugging on his arm and pulling him up from his chair. "what do you need from me, sweetheart." he let out a low snicker, looking down at you and your intoxicated state. you feign a hurt gasp, "i just want you to dance with me, what are you too old?" you giggled, letting out a small hiccup. richie grinned, "old? motherfucker, you hear this?" he looks back at carmy, "let this old man show you a good time then." he pushed you slightly towards the floor. you made him spin you a couple times till you got dizzy and eventually were gripping onto his strong forearm and throwing your head back onto his chest. richie could smell the alcohol coming from you being laced with your sweet strawberry perfume he had familiarized himself with. your hand slowly began making it's way up richie's arm, tracing it with your fingertips you let out a small laugh. "what's so funny, doll?" he spoke beside your head, letting the hot breath fan over your ear. "nothing," you stay swaying, hands still all over his arm. "well it can't be nothing, you can tell me..." he spoke to you with that tone in his voice that felt like he was coaxing an answer out of you. "your arm's just really nice" he bit down on his lip at your response, "oh really?" he replied amused almost. "and your hands, i like watching you in the kitchen, cutting shit up you know." he swore he could hear you let out a small shudder at the end of your sentence. it made him smirk, watching you spill your secrets so easily when asked. he looked down at your face and captured your eyes fixated on the trail your fingers left along his arm, the lost look you held in them making him let out a quick 'fuck' beneath his breath. not before looking over at the others at the bar and making sure they were busy chatting amongst themselves, he collected your hair and brought it all to the side of your neck. feeling you shiver at his touch, he clasped the back of your neck with his big hand and leaned down, "what would your uh boyfriend think if he saw you like this, y/n?". you pray he doesn't notice the low whimper you let out at the close proximity and the threatening use of your name. unfortunately for you, it's music to his hears, "you'd like that, huh? god you're sick, sweetheart". you turn around to face him, your breathing heavy. you felt like his energy was consuming you, the way his jaw clenched, the light smirk playing on him lips, it was all too much.
“i’m getting another drink” you rip your body away from him, swallowing hard. “i think you’ve had enough to drink, baby.” his voice follows you, “fine then take me home, richie”. he sighs and brings a hand to his forehead, “you know i can’t do that” he looks back at everyone, noticing tina and carmy had already head home and only marcus and sydney were left chatting at the bar. you suddenly take his shirt gently between your hands and look up with him, your lipstick shining and eyes glossy “please richie”. he couldn’t resist the slight whine your voice held. he wanted to do the right thing, but you make it so hard. you both make your way back to the bar, “baby’s off her ass, i’m gonna call her boyfriend and make sure she gets home.” richie says to the two, as they take in the image before them. sydney and marcus knew richie could be, well richie, but they trusted him enough to not let anything happen to you. "take care of her richie, please.” sydney gestured towards you. “bye guys, love you!” you let out quickly before making your way out with richie guiding you. standing outside in the cold you hugged yourself, “what’s your guys number so we can get you home?” richie said as he pulled out his phone. “i don’t want to go with him right now”. “what, why the fuck not?” he asked puzzled, “i just want to go with you richie, please?”.
warnings: age gap, cheating (eventually) (guys it's for the plot i swear), drugs mentioned, swearing.
guys this part is gonna be divided into two bc it didn't fit into one post :< they've been posted at the same time, u can find part 3.5 on my acc! thanks 4 all the love cuties <3
most people would call richie an asshole, it was just his nature y'know? how he walked around with that smirk you couldn't wipe off his face, fucking with cousin, trying to 'man the ship' and take control with his abrasive voice and attitude. after you got hired at the beef though, everyone wondered to what extent of an asshole richie really was. carmy and tina were on his ass the most, gifting him a quick smack on the shoulder or upside the head whenever they caught him staring at you, eyes trailing you out the door. they knew he could be an asshole, obviously, but they wondered if he was really the type of guy to take one look at your gleaming eyes and full cheeks and not be able to help himself. everyone in the kitchen called you 'baby', there was no avoiding how obviously young you were. richie knew, of course he knew, the way you looked up at him through your long lashes. the bags under your eyes nowhere near as dark and deep as his or carmy's. you were achingly sweet, and it killed him. when you smiled at him, bidding him his daily 'good morning, richie!' he felt his teeth rot in his mouth. like he wanted to store you away in his pocket and never let anyone ruin that sparkle you held behind your eyes. yet at the same time, if it was up to him, he could be the one to do it. a reminder he felt every time he played with the ring on his left hand. god, he could ruin your life if you let him. it's not like actively wanted to, but whenever he caught a glimpse of the sun hitting your soft skin he felt something intangible. so when you came up behind the alley and sat next to him on your first day, and he saw the way your glossed lips wrapped around his cigarette he knew he couldn't help himself, he wouldn't. he saw it that day, a part of you is sick enough to want this too. from that point on, you play along. his sweet names for you, soft touches, like he wanted to guide you, teach you.
"tell baby she can't be ringing in the orders all at once, cousin!" carmy yelled over at richie through the expo. "well maybe if you picked up the pace, did the damn system the way it's meant to be done you'd get it done, cousin." richie yells back rolling his eyes, he was being stubborn about all of carmen's new 'rules'. "just tell her, asshole!". richie threw his hands up, exiting the kitchen to find you ringing in orders on the new tablet that only you can seem to figure out. he comes up beside you, gently pulling your hand off the screen. you turn, recognizing richie's strong cigarette and minty aroma. "cousin's being a little bitch so i'm just gonna need you to slow down on ringing in orders. alright, sweetheart?" he nods his head towards you. "oh shit, i'm sorry richie i forgot you guys were short staffed today! if you want i can help back there-" richie chuckles at you stumbling over your words. "no no, don't worry about it, doll. you keep your pretty little self up here-" he grabs your shoulders facing you back towards your tables, "and let me worry about what's going on back there". you let out a small laugh and agree, feeling his big hands gripping your shoulders. "keep raking in those tips, baby!" he yells back as he makes his way back into the kitchen. "yo, you told her, cousin?" carmy questions as richie walks back into the hectic kitchen. "yeah fuck off, she's doing great out there. that face brings in the big bucks man" sydney throws her head back at his words, "richie you can't be saying that! i think even the way you look at her is an HR violation." "syd, fuck off, i am HR" he responds with a cocky tone making sydney roll her eyes.
it was a few days after the day of the game, and the little show richie put on to protect you from some drunk asshole. he had laughed to himself the entire way home, imagining your 'boyfriend' picking you up that night. and every night after work as a matter of fact. how you'd go home to him and lay in bed thinking about richie. his hands, the scruff on his face, the shadow his figure casted over you when he stood behind you, the way his gaze imprinted on you, and the way his voice changed when directed towards you. richie could always clock the want in your eyes, almost like you would surrender yourself to whatever would fall from his mouth. finding out about your boyfriend just confirmed his suspicions; you were just the type of girl who's looking for someone to take good care of her.
it was the following friday night after a particularly stressful shift at the beef (when wasn't it) and tina had rounded everyone up, convincing everyone to head to the bar. "ugh, but tina i'm all sweaty" you frowned, always wanting to head out looking your best. "baby throw on a dress and some lipstick and i promise you'll look just fine, mija." she came up to you, reaching up to flatten your fly aways with her small hands. "plus who you trying to look good for anyways, richie?" she laughed but then quickly noticed your red face and paused. "what?" you asked slowly with a nervous tinge. "don't tell me you got the hots for richie, girl." she looked at you, eyebrows as crinkled as ever. after your lack of response she let out a long sig, "ay no, niña. i love that boy, i really do but he is bad news. plus baby he's too old for you, my god, and you're too pretty. no no no you stay away from him." she ranted on before you could even get a word in. "no, tina! i don't, I promise!" you exclaimed, she stared unconvinced, "plus i've got a boyfriend". "hmmm, okay, i'm watching you girl. go get ready." her tone still sounded unconvinced, just a bit more at ease knowing you're at least 'taken'. you quickly composed yourself in the dim fluorescent's of the beef's bathroom as everyone made their way to the bar. slapping on some lipstick, your hoops, and trying to manage as much of your hair as you could. "wepa!! look at you, come on let's go before everyone gets drunk by the time we get there" tina pulls you off into her car.
note: yes there’s the main work chat w carmy, the secret coworker chat w/o carmy, and the secret secret bestie chat w syd, marcus, and yourself. it would be canon.
warnings: crude humor, slightly offensive jokes
part one
liked by carmyberzatto, marcus.brooks11 and 40 others
chefboyardee: life lately
see all 9 comments
syd_adamu: that pho was life changing
↳ chefboyardee: i think it was the best i’ve ever had
marcus.brooks11: feet off the table @syd_adamu
↳ chefboyardee: leave my girl alone
↳ richietheking: I knew you guys were lez
↳ syd_adamu: we aren’t and you can’t say that
↳ chefboyardee: oh.. we aren’t? ☹️😔
↳ syd_adamu: 😑
carmyberzatto: 🍲🔥
THE GOLDEN TRIO
[ 7:45 AM ]
y/n: did you see
did you see
did
you
see
ogmgokggkowkfofsk
syd: pardon??
what did richie do oh my god
did he post another picture of him with the gun from that one day
fuckkkk carmys gonna be so mad
marcus: nope i wish
y/n: he commented on my post 😭😭😭😭
syd: who
marcus: think about it
who else would cause this reaction
y/n: carmy!!!!!!!
i woke up to him commenting 🍲🔥 😍😍😍😍
syd: woah and the heart eyes?
y/n: no that’s my addition
syd: the bar is in hell
HES YOUR BOSS
y/n: AND I WANT HIS BABIES??
marcus: y’all so hype to be pregnant THEN BOOOMMM ‼️ THE BABY’S UGLY AND BALD WITH ECZEMA 😩🤨
syd: LMFAOOOOO WHOS YALL THO????
y/n: bye im done
im leaving for work.
don’t talk to me ever again
done.
marcus: bye 👋
why do you leave so early fool
syd: so she can be teachers pet
marcus: smh always there before everyone
y/n: not true.
syd: i thought you weren’t talking to us
y/n: 😒
marcus: want me to bring y’all an iced latte again
y/n: …. 😁
WORK
[ 8:15 AM ]
y/n: AYOOOO
great job cleaning up after work yesterday 😊👍
richie: Is this a joke?
y/n: why would i joke about such a thing
carmy: Y/n what are you doing
y/n: u said to tell everyone their housekeeping is shitty
carmy: No I said I was going to tell them that, and you said no I’ll do it
This is not what I meant
y/n: well you yell too much
marcus: ouch
that’s my station 😔
carmy: Well clean it better
y/n: im using reverse psychology and positive reinforcement
carmy: Not what that means
y/n: well notice how no one’s mad at me
im making alliances day by day
richie: You’ve worked here for two years and we are already friends
y/n: so you’re saying you aren’t my ally
richie: No
We are definitley in an alliance
y/n: love u richie
richie: Don’t go that far
chefboyardee’s instagram stories
WE HAVE THE BEEF 🥩
[ 3:25 PM ]
y/n:
he so fine im bouta cermmmmm
syd: …..
marcus: :O
y/n: why are you acting shocked
like i haven’t said this daily
tina: Woah girl who?
y/n: HUH
richie: I’m not in the picture I don’t get it
syd: let’s just keep working before carmy notices
tina: I don’t care I’m on smoke break. Who are you talking about girl? Spill the tea..
marcus: she was talking about me you guys
y/n: the guy in the back
oh i mean yeah marcus
tina: The meat delivery guy? He has a wife..
y/n: we are having an affair
marcus: no it’s about me
richie: I didn’t know Marcus and Y/n were a thing..
tina: Something ain’t right. No way they are.
marcus: we aren’t it’s just our sense of humor
y/n: i was just being funny!
tina: What did Jeff just yell inside?
syd: came out of the office and said “just cuz we’re slow doesn’t mean you can play on your phones” 👍💯
tina: Whatever. No chance Y/n meant Marcus. You got the hots for Jeffrey?
y/n: what no
tina: Well I wouldn’t blame you. He’s cute
y/n: OMG RIGHTTTTTTT
its the tattoos isn’t it
richie: You have to be fucking joking
tina: I was playing..
y/n: im confused
syd: that was cruel
marcus: who cares it’s not a big deal
y/n: so you don’t think he’s cute tina?? ☹️☹️
tina: No he is cute… for you 😝
y/n: this is humiliating
richie: I’ll tell him
y/n: NO
stop
sSTOP THATS NOT FUNNY
richie im not joking i’ll put a bomb in your floorboards
richie: I’m just fucking with you kid
tina: This isn’t over.
THE GOLDEN TRIO:
[ 3:40 PM ]
syd: y/n….
marcus: you look like a ghost y/n
y/n: i cannot believe i sent that to the wrong gc
i’m done im so done
marcus: stop looking so sad it’s making me feel bad
syd: it’s okay! just be thankful it wasn’t to the work groupchat with him in it..
marcus: true it could be worse
y/n: i guess so
thank you for trying to cover for me marcus
marcus: anytime you know i got you
syd: let’s get back to work before we start looking obvious
warnings: age gap, cheating (eventually) (guys it's for the plot i swear), drugs mentioned, swearing.
as requested here is part two!! thank u for the support cuties <3
"hands, fuckers! i need hands table 13, someone come on!" richie's voice echos through the bustling kitchen. it was a busy saturday night, the kitchen was in the weeds, and the restaurant was full as shit. the chicago bears were playing the packers tonight which meant men, drunk men, who would camp out the entire game sitting at the bar or at a table ordering one meal for the whole night. while your apron was stained and you hadn't reapplied lipgloss in the last three hours, you took a quick peak in the mirror and concluded you still looked good enough for that 20% tip. your cheeks were flushed from running around the restaurant getting beer refills and pitchers for nearly every damn table. you should've called off, honestly.
"I got hands!" you came up behind richie. he passed you the plates with a rag beneath them, "here wouldn't want you to burn yourself, sweetheart". you smiled at him, something about richie made your stomach drop in a way that made you feel guilty. every time he spoke to you, it churned your stomach. you knew it was wrong, the whole 'older man' ordeal, you knew that you should probably feel disgusted at his little remarks towards you. but if anything, that was the cherry on top. you walk out the kitchen, feeling his eyes burning into your back. tina smacks richie's shoulder, "staring at that girl like you wanna eat her" she scoffs disapprovingly. he smirks, eyes trailing you.
"alright guys i have the italian beef sandwich, fries on the side?" you ask the men in front of you wearing their grey bear jerseys, setting it down on the table. "they got you on the side too?" one of the guys snickers, shoving his elbow into his buddy. you fake a sweet laugh, "depends, there's an upcharge for me", anything for that tip. glancing up at the clock, "two more hours to go," you sigh. and for the next two hours, the game finishes up and people start slowly leaving the restaurant. you get those who linger, collecting their betting pool winnings or reaping their loses at the bar. you start getting ready to cash out, calculating your earnings for the day when richie creeps up behind you. "how'd you do today, doll?" referring to your tips racking up on the screen, "guess" you look over your shoulder at him. his face is glowing with a sheen of sweat, rag draped over his shoulder, chain having fallen beneath his shirt, he looked good. "a girl like you? i'm gonna say you made 200 tonight." "try 350," he peers over your shoulder, he lets out a whistle and you can feel his breath blow past your ear. "they like you out here huh?" you turn around to completely face him, his face merely inches away "why wouldn't they?" he chuckles at your response. "god you've got a mouth on you" you notice his eyes pan over you, his response makes you go red. you can only feign confident for so long, his words strike you somewhere deep inside. he notices your flushed state, smiles, and makes his way back to the kitchen. when the doors close behind him you realize you've been holding your breath.
you make your way to the office to check out with carmen, "how did you do today, y/n?" he's seated in his office chair, legs spread and obviously tired. "really good, i'm really liking it here, chef. thank you for the opportunity to work here" you smile hands behind your back, "that's good to hear, you let me know if anyone gives you any type of trouble alright? including fucking cousin over there." you laugh, "trust me, everyone's been really welcoming". once you're done cashing out, you take your purse and head out. outside you find yourself two lingering drunks from the game, "where are you heading to so fast? hold on," one of the guys approaches you, you roll your eyes and continue making your way down the sidewalk. "hey, i'm fucking talking you, you too good to respond or something" you can smell the alcohol coming from his breath as he comes up to tug on your wrist. "fuck off, don't touch me!" you shrug his wrist off, "is there a fucking problem here or something?" you hear richie's scruff voice behind you. before he gets to say anything else the guy backs away from you, you turn around to see richie lifting his white shirt just above his stomach to reveal his gun. the sight gives you that familiar feeling, you almost feel a shiver down your spine. "cause I don't think we would want any problems, right?" he gets closer to you, putting a finger through your belt loop to secure you. "you're right man, we're good, we're good." the guys shuffle away almost tripping over their feet. richie tugs on your belt loop, turning you to face him, "you okay, sweetheart? what are you doing walking home at this hour, do you want to get fucking taken by some jagoff?" he put his shirt back down, covering his gun. you stay a bit stunned, "let me give you a ride, come on." you grab his wrist lightly, "thank you, richie, fuck. um fuck..." you grip your hair, about to follow him to his car you see headlights behind you. "shit um... thank you for the offer, and for helping richie. i was just already waiting on-" you hesitate catching his eye as he looks off to the car pulling over in the distance. "I was waiting on my boyfriend." you peer behind you to see him behind the wheel, he usually picks you up from work. richie nods, smirking almost "your uh boyfriend shouldn't make his girl wait for him like that, especially at night. have a good night, doll" he rubs his chin, turns and makes his way to his car. you sigh, questioning your own moment of hesitation before saying 'boyfriend'. you stare at the silhouette of his tall stature walk away, envisioning the cold gun that rests between his jeans and his stomach and bite down on your lip.
van palmer x reader : the yellowjackets catch onto van's crush on their one of their teams cheerleaders
"van!", the whistle catches vans attention across the moist green field. "did you not see the ball coming straight for your god damn head?" coach martinez questions the dazed ginger. "focus come on!" coach blows the whistle to reset before she even gets the chance to get up. van might not be the tallest girl on the team, but she was the perfect pick for goalie. when the ball came towards that net she was a fiery cannon launching to protect the box. after their last game, 0-3, and an undefeated season, people started saying the game was rigged due to the yellowjackets goalie being psychic. while van was no psychic, she had a knack for predicting what her opponent would do next. according to her she "just goes with her gut". however, lately her 'gut' seems a little distracted.
each second van's eyes were not on the girls pursuing the net, they were on the girl's soccer team cheerleaders. particularly, you. van couldn't help simply 'observing' the way your skirt hiked up your soft thighs as you demonstrated your moves to the squad. or the way your ponytail sat high on your head and the sweat slipped down your neck... and that's how she ended up on the floor, soccer ball to the head with a sorry laura lee cowering over her. coach martinez yelling had caught your attention as you peered across the field to spot the redhead laying exasperated in her goalie box. you would be lying if you said you hadn't noticed her initially when you first began cheering for the team. her quick hands and strong calves from all the laps coach made them run around the field before practice. you were always the confident type, not shy when it came to boys, your team mates, and getting what you want. but van had a struck a different chord in you, one you were all too familiar with after watching bound with jennifer tilly and gina gershon in theaters that october. while your van halen and backstreet boys posters covered the fore front of your pink room, corky posters were plastered all over your closet. but corky was a character in a movie, you'd never gotten that feeling at the pit of your stomach from a girl in real life, right? well there was that time in eight grade when you and your friend practiced kissing for the winter formal. but that was one time; until now. that feeling in your stomach kicked in every time you got a look at the goalie and it ticked you off. the one time you wanted to put your cherry lip gloss adorned smile to work your nerves got the best of you. it was nearly winter break now and you had only spoken to van in passing during practice and games. your cheeks stung red recalling the night they won states, "maybe you're our lucky charm out there" she had rushed towards you still pumping adrenaline from the win, you cracked a smile in response before she corrected herself, "you and the rest of the girls of course".
now, you lightly jogged (not wanting to look too concerned) towards her and laura lee. "hey, are you ok? i could hear the ball thump against your head from all the way over there." she leaned up, making eye contact with you and chuckling, "are you calling me a hard head?" her teammates looked back at you two as they reset to their positions. "it was me, i really didn't mean to vanessa honestly!" laura lee apologized frantically. "it's alright laura lee, just go back before coach kicks both our asses". you offer van a hand to help her up, "thanks" she huffs out. at the first attempt of standing she wobbles and makes her way back to the ground, "shit i'm dizzy". "alright look l/n, take her to the nurse please. jackie pose as goalie for now." coach directs his attention to two of you as he notices van's state. you widen your eyes at his request as that feeling kicks in again causing your stomach to churn. you hesitantly agree and help van up once more with her arm propped up on your shoulder. "fuck i hate the nurse, misty quigley is always in there with her." you giggle, "i'm guessing misty is the last thing you want to see right now." "when does anyone want to see misty quigley?" you nod in agreement, every encounter with misty is never something you look forward to. "i can take you to the locker room, i have some pain medicine and water in there if you just want to lay down for a second. without the presence of misty quigley of course." "why thank you, that sounds lovely" she says drowsily accompanied by that silly accent she puts on.
you practically drag van to the locker room and sit her down on the bench by your locker. "i think staring at your locker will only make my headache worse" van snickers referring to your locker decorated in bright pink paint and a big hair bow front and center. "hey, don't make fun of my locker. remember who just saved your life!" you pout at her. "sorry, sorry how could i forget. after all you are the teams lucky charm." she proclaims dramatically. "well is my squad the lucky charm or is it just me, cause if i remember correctly..." van lays down against the bench chuckling, "well you're the only one i pay any attention to at least". you pause while rummaging through your locker for some ibuprofen, turning to face the girl. she looks back at you, "what? hey, are you blushing or did you just get a little heavy handed with the powder today?" you bring your hands to your cheeks and feel the warmth against your skin. "i think you have a concussion van." you dismiss her flirty comments and hand her two ibuprofen and an unopened water bottle. "what makes you say that?" her fingers brushing against yours as she takes the pills, you roll your eyes at her sudden boldness. "you rarely speak to me and now you're saying that you pay attention to me?" the silence in the locker room stiff as you hear her swallow. "what can i say, i find it hard to talk to pretty girls." you stifle a giggle "woah you're totally blushing now, you can't deny it man". you turn to face her a smile plastered on your seemingly flushed face. "this is how you thank me for nursing you back to health?" you raise your eyebrows, "well what do you have in mind miss cheer captain?" she sits up leaning on her arms settled behind her. "stop getting hit in the head so that we make it to nationals." "it's kind of hard not to when you're out there in this little skirt," she takes the end of your pleated skirt between her fingers "what else am i supposed to look at?". if your stomach was churning before, it's like a battalion of butterflies at war in there now. "are you hitting on me, palmer?" you look up at her through your lashes. "would that be so terrible?" her face suddenly (nearly) serious. before you can answer, the door to the locker room swings open, all the girls piling in, sweaty and with dirt covered knees. "so what's the diagnosis, y/n, is she doomed?" nat's voice comes creeping around the corner. you get up quickly, shutting your locker and flattening your skirt. "definitely." van's eyes follow you as you leave. when the door shuts behind you, nat and lottie erupt in laughter. "does she know she is the reason for your little concussion?" they come up behind van, teasing her. "i'm injured, leave me alone!" the goalie rests her head against your pink locker and groans as her team mates share a round of "ooo''s amongst themselves.
thank u for reading :> i think van is super underrated and needs more fics, i love her!!! hope u enjoyed!
richie jerimovich x reader - richie makes carmy regret hiring the cute young waitress
wrote dis quick, messy, nd did not look over it but enjoy! :>
"so um look, natalie is going to be training you this week alright" carmy informs you as he sifts through a pile of papers scattering his desk. "you ever serve before?", "for a few months yeah, it's been getting me through college so" you twiddle your thumbs nervously. the restaurant was certainly... intimidating? going to school in chicago you had stopped by a couple times for lunch or drunk off your ass after the club. even while slurring your words you could remember how fucking good that sandwich was. even if most of it was puked up in the bushes out front.
"yo, cousin!" an abrasive voice comes stumbling through carmy's office door without warning, "sugar is out here telling me some bullshit about you hiring servers? look we don't need that shit. a sandwich comes out i fucking hand it to them, boom. why are you gonna pay some dipshit to do it for me?". you turn around to face the loud voice, being met with a tall, tan, buzzcut typical line cook with a deep accent. "jesus fucking christ, one of these 'dipshits' is standing in front of you richie." carmy yells back, obviously pained to have you witness that. "ah shit-" richie steps back to get a full length view of you, taking you in. his gaze felt like an intrusion. "i'm sorry, doll, richie jerimovich." he envelopes your hand in his calloused and rough one, introducing himself. "you know what i'm sorry, cousin, anyone with a set of eyes would hire her too" he snickers, with his hand still atop yours he takes his eyes away from you to acknowledge carmen. "cousin, get the fuck out, you fucking creep!" signaling for the door. "oh my god" richie sighs dramatically, "i'm stating the fucking obvious alright, you need marcus to come in here to tell you the same thing? yo, marcus!" carmen rushes to shove richie out the door, "i'm sorry, i couldn't help myself! look, you're beautiful, sweetheart!" he lets out one last compliment. you giggle to yourself and the man making a spectacle of himself.
carmen shuts the office door and sighs, rubbing his forehead with his tired hand. "i'm sorry, he's... he's a fucking jagoff." you appreciate the apology, but having worked in a restaurant has you accustomed to the snickers and comments from line cooks and customers alike. most of the girls usually brush it off, leaving them disgusted and a distaste for the job for the next few hours. but, your guilty pleasure has become using it to your benefit. free food from cooks, more money from tips, etc. you're sure you could work richie to your benefit just the same. "don't worry about it, he seems... nice" your ease settles carmy and he snickers, "you could say that i guess".
you follow natalie around the restaurant for the next few hours as she takes you through the front of the house and back, introducing you to everyone and all the standards. when five o clock hits, she lets you go, handing you an apron, a t-shirt. and a name tag. thanking her and setting out to find the back alley for a quick ciggy. you find richie lighting a cigarette in the dimly lit alley, "can i bum a cigarette?" you sit down beside him, smelling the smoke clinging to his shirt. "its your first day and you're asking me for shit?" he looks over at you and you notice his evident wrinkles, veins in his neck, and tired eyes. "pretty please?" you look up at him, turning your whole body to face him with a sweet smile on your face. he rolls his eyes playfully, "you know what you're doing huh?" he says as he pulls one more cigarette from its box. "open." you scrunch your eyebrows, confused at his request. his eyes shift to your lips, taking two fingers and tapping your cheek signaling for you to open your mouth. "come on," you separate your lips and he places a cigarette between them, lighting it swiftly. you feel your cheeks get warm, from the cigarette or from his words you don't know (yes you do). "thank you" you say quietly, still stunned a bit. "you know you're gonna ruin that sweet face smoking" he coughs through the lit cigarette. "oh are you telling me what to do now, richie?" you lean back, eyes entranced by the way his hands make the cigarette almost look like a lollipop stick. "a girl like you is probably looking for someone to tell her what to do, sweetheart". as you're trying to figure out whether that just pissed you off or turned you on, carmy bursts through the back door. "cousin, what the fuck are you doing?! we need you in the kitchen, now please! and leave the new girl alone, jesus" carmy yells as richie stomps on what's left of his cigarette and puts his hands up in defense. "i'm coming, fuck off. it was a pleasure, babe" he shakes your hand and makes his way inside. you peer at the closed door, listening to the muffled argument carmy and richie have in front of it. great first day.
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