#Richie spats | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cobaltperun · 3 months ago

Text

Eternal Flame (3) - Scream

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

Spotify playlist

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next part

Word count: 11.4k

-Scream! When the fire burns me, when it's hard to break free-

The second day of filming the hospital scene began, the most physically demanding scene of the movie, and while you went over the different fight choreographies you still weren’t set on what exactly you all wanted to accomplish. Since you’d be filming taking Jenna to the elevator and the entire aftermath of the emotional scene later Melissa and David, as well as Jenna and the stunt doubles for Ghostfaces were there as well.

“You sure you don’t need a stunt double for these?” David asked you as you took a stretched a bit to warm up. You could see some concern on Jenna and Melissa’s faces and you gave them both a quick grin.

You nodded, dropping down to stretch your legs. “These are fun for me, and we’ve got wires for more dangerous stunts,” everything else was basically a simulated fight scene. When you thought about it, Logan was a lot more demanding, you had to slide, and jump, and be agile, as well as act feral. This was controlled, trained, precise, pretty much safe.

“We can always find a double, or tone it down if you’re not sure about something,” Matt assured you, making you nod again.

“Appreciate it,” you grinned and high-fived the Ghostfaces. “Let’s do this,” you got in the position with one of the stuntmen, you couldn’t really figure out which one was which now that they were masked.

“Take 1, action!”

You pushed the Ghostface into the wall, quickly going in with faking a couple of punches meant to take advantage of Amber being caught off guard and having air knocked out of her lungs. Your character was supposed to be angry, seeking revenge for what was done to Tara, so your hits were supposed to be brutal. You caught the stunt double’s wrist as he faked trying to stab you and pushed his arm up, before grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down. You lifted your knee, making it look like you just kneed him in the guts.

You had to give it to the stunt doubles, they sure knew how to do their job. He made it easy for you to fake lifting him up and slamming him onto the floor, while at the same time avoiding actually getting hurt. The second stunt double joined in, jumping in from the shadowy corner and lunging forward, as Richie was meant to save Amber from C/N and try to stab her. You whipped your head toward the man and gritted your teeth in frustration. You were down on one knee, the position wasn’t the best for it, but you jumped to your feet, skidding back and quickly regaining your footing as you bounced back to put some distance between the two of them and you.

“Cowards,” you spat. “Which one of you was it? The one who hurt Tara?” you demanded, furious as they both got up and wiped their knives, even if your character was yet to be cut. Ghostfaces were supposed to remain silent, going for the intimidation tactic. “No, it doesn’t matter, you’re both going to pay anyway,” damn, that line was corny, but you still delivered it with utmost seriousness.

They rushed you, and the scene turned into the coordinated chaos, with you, at one point, kneeing one Ghostface, making him bend forward, only to jump over him and kick the other one into the wall. Impressive that you could do it, but entirely unnecessary and dangerous.

More importantly it made your character look too strong, too untouchable by not just one, but two Ghostfaces.

“Cut!” Matt yelled once the scene was over and the three of you stopped and took a moment to catch your breaths.

“Are you both okay?” you asked, seeing as they did have to take some pain. Sure, each hit was faked, barely even touching the costumes, but being pushed against the wall or falling to the floor still could have hurt them.

Both of them nodded before all three of you went back to the directors and the rest of the cast.

“Maybe tone it down?” Tyler considered and you genuinely agreed.

As he and Matt went over the footage you went to your chair next to Jenna. “We probably should tone it down,” you said mostly to your co-stars and grinned when Jenna patted you on the shoulder.

“You were amazing,” she lightly squeezed your shoulder.

“Jenna here couldn’t take her eyes off you,” Melissa just had to tease the younger actress.

And Jenna? She predictably got shy and averted her eyes, instead choosing to focus on the bandages put around her hand due to Tara’s injury.

“It is a cool fight scene, a bit over the top, but cool,” you came to her rescue, though you really were completely sure that was why Jenna got so invested. She loved movies, she loved all of this, the filming, the choreographies, the process of creating each and every scene and you weren’t sure how many fight scenes like this one she got to watch being filmed before.

Matt and Tyler came over. “Okay, we’re toning it down, making it more grounded and less flashy,” Tyler explained and brought the fight coordinators along. So, you all ended up coming up with a subtler, more realistic fight. With your character ducking instead of jumping around, with light nudges to redirect the hits instead of over-the-top movement and a quick fight scene, instead of drawing it out. It would save time for more character building moments and plot, so that worked as well.

“One more thing, the part after Amber runs out of bullets and C/N breaks her mask, do you think we can pull off a big finale? Like C/N jumping and grabbing the neck, pulling both of them to the floor and slamming the mask against the floor to crack it?” Matt asked, mostly the stunt coordinator.

“Not that flashy,” she moved to where that part of the scene was supposed to play out. “Jenna would be lying here, her wheelchair would be over here,” she pointed at each spot. “We don’t have the spot for Y/N to land without landing on Jenna or the wheelchair,” she turned to you. “Think you can crack the mask with a punch and make it look like a big ending of the fight?”

You thought it over for a few moments. “A haymaker will do the job,” you spoke confidently, but honestly, you weren’t entirely sure. You sure as hell could give it a try though.

Matt nodded. “We’ll use a mannequin for both the practice and the filming, give it a good punch Y/N,” he instructed, and you hopped to your feet as they got the mannequin ready. You went over the instructions one last time and got in the position on the floor, right after your character managed to push Richie off her back.

“Ready?” Matt asked and you nodded.

“Ready,” you ran forward, building up the momentum, and pulling your fist back. It might actually hurt to do this, it might actually leave a bruise, or a cut on your knuckles, but you were ready for that. You didn’t slow down, fully embracing the turmoil and adrenaline your character would be feeling and slammed a haymaker into the mask. A loud crack resounded through the hospital floor and you stumbled forward, your left foot skidding with a loud screech across the floor as you tried to stop yourself and continue with the scene, since you would need to immediately go to Jenna and pick her up. The mannequin fell onto the floor, bouncing once from the force of the impact, mask cracked, but not broken, and you grinned, satisfied with the results.

~X~

By the time you were done with the action scenes you were actually fairly tired, seeing as you had to go from simulating a fighting scene to carrying Jenna around, which wasn’t difficult, but your arms were starting to ache as you finally lowered her down in front of the hospital.

“Good job everyone! We’re wrapping up for today!” and you were, you and Jenna did lots of scenes today, as did Melissa and David. David even had his death scene so he would soon be leaving the set. You were going to miss him, he was always pleasant to hang out with, but that was the nature of this, actors would come and go according to how big their role was.

For example, the one actress that was going to join the cast for a very brief period, playing Susan, was none other than Emma Thompson. You raised an eyebrow when you read that, not really able to remember her ever doing a horror. Granted, Susan was about as removed from the horror elements as she could be in this movie. Regardless, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to working with the British actress.

Jenna looked worried and you just realized you could feel the stinging sensation in your hand, you looked down and, frankly, you saw it coming, noticed there was a small bruise on your knuckle. “Hey, it’ll be fine, just need to ice it for a bit,” you winked, assuring her.

“Come on, I’ll help you,” you could hear the determination in her tone as she took your left hand and pulled you along, back to the hotel and her room.

~X~

Jenna trusted Matt and Tyler, trusted their vision for the movie, but she didn’t expect the fight scene, barely described in the script, to turn into what she saw earlier. She caught herself watching it closely, impressed by it all, it looked like a dangerous dance where one step out of line could have gotten someone hurt.

And you got hurt.

Not in the staged fight scene, but hitting the mannequin several times to get the desired outcome.

You were sitting in front of Jenna at her table, your knees touching as Jenna held an icepack on your knuckle. “You looked like you were having fun,” Jenna pointed out, choosing to look at your face instead of the bruise. While you were filming you had that serious, angry look in your eyes, flawlessly portraying the rage your character was meant to feel, but the moment the filming stopped you just snapped back to how you usually were, sweet, friendly, happy to be doing this, and it was clear you had fun filming today.

Even if Jenna was on the edge of her seat whenever you did a more demanding stunt. Even if she herself gave heart attacks to stunt coordinators. She understood why you loved doing it, she loved doing her stunts as well, but you sure could move. More importantly, she found herself drawn more and more to you, to the way you treated everyone, and the way you constantly made sure both of the stuntmen were fine after each take.

She watched you glancing to the side, lightly scratching your cheek. You were embarrassed, even a bit nervous. “It’s a safe release, I guess. Training, martial arts, action scenes,” you confessed something Jenna could have guessed, but seeing how nervous you were to say it made her appreciate it even more. Knowing you were comfortable enough to be open with her made her smile.

“Maybe try not to get bruises next time,” she teased, light-hearted, clearly joking, and you laughed, seeing the teasing for what it was, and accepting it completely.

“And miss out on you treating me? I’m not that dumb,” you teased right back, and Jenna rolled her eyes.

Even if the slight blush on her face annoyed her a lot more than she dared to admit. She put the icepack away and instead just placed her hand on top of your own. She looked at you, expecting you to either say something or pull your hand back, but you just grinned as she tried not to smile. “You’re just,” she huffed, smiling despite trying her best not to show how quickly all her defenses came down when it came to you.

“I’m just?” you asked, leaning in slightly as if she was about to tell you a secret.

“I’m not saying,” she shrugged, completely certain that she wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t give into your questioning.

You frowned, as if offended by her rejection and then just leaned back. Though you didn’t move your hand even the slightest bit. “Fine, I don’t want to know anyway,” the nonchalant tone of your voice actually annoyed her.

“Wha- oh come on, at least try harder,” she knew she was pouting like a child, playing a game with you, not taking this seriously, instead just having fun and acting more her age than she usually did.

You just grinned, that same cheeky grin she caught you having when you were having fun and for a moment, just for one moment, she slipped her fingers between yours, interlocking them for a brief moment before pulling away, ignoring how her heart hammered in her chest.

~X~

You could feel the frustration on set as all four of you left your positions once more. The two stuntmen once more wearing Ghostface costumes and you and Jenna, meant to wrap up the hospital scene with the emotional part of it all.

And you couldn’t get it right.

Either one of the Ghostface lines would get messed up, or someone would miss a cue. Then Jenna’s voice broke once, and you just couldn’t get into your character. So, you ended up taking a fifteen-minute break to hopefully get it right next time. You could see Jenna close to you, picking at the string of her hospital gown, clearly in her head, focusing entirely on the scene you were yet to get right while listening to music.

You let her, trusting her to get through whatever was blocking her on her own. And it wasn’t that there was one of you constantly failing, it just felt like there was always one thing missing, one moment to make everything else fit together and push the scene as high as it could possibly go.

You noticed your phone buzzing in your jacket hanging over your chair and pulled it out. You got a message and since you were on a break you figured you might as well read it now.

17:21 On-screen Dad: How are you doing?

You smiled and typed a quick reply, assuring Hugh you were fine and asking how he and his family were doing. More importantly, the message brought you back to filming Logan and you remembered watching Hugh act, going from broken, dying Logan back to himself in an instant. He looked the same physically, but the way he carried himself completely switched the feel of it. You learnt so much from him during those months, and you would use that now as well. You didn’t get the feel of ferocious anger from C/N, and the scene demanded it, but you were more than familiar with playing ferocious anger.

“Okay, break is over, let’s try again,” Tyler announced.

You caught Jenna glancing at you and you gave her a thumbs up and a grin, sure that this time you’d be closer to acting out the scene that would work.

You didn’t slip into C/N, you slipped into Laura, and then it just clicked as the scene began playing out.

“Fuck you,” Jenna gritted out when Ghostface was meant to taunt Tara that C/N didn’t protect her and you felt the prop knife touching the left side of your back, prompting you to gasp for breath but not scream. You widened your eyes, acting like you were in shock and pain.

The focus was on Jenna as she expertly delivered the pain, the despair Tara felt as Ghostface told her she would need to shoot your character.

When the gun was pointed at you and Jenna whimpered you followed the directors’ cue and gasped, and while the camera focused on Jenna you quickly tossed the shirt you had on aside in favor of the more damaged one. You all wanted to do this in one take, so this was the solution.

"I'll do anything else, whatever you ask, just please not this!" you were amazed at how hoarse Jenna could make her voice. Not to mention all the emotional range she was showing right now, and it was bringing more out of you as well. "Please, anything but this!"

The scene went on, uninterrupted, you felt like you had it, like this was the take you needed. "I don't know what you are screaming about, Tara. You got what you wanted right? You didn't kill Y/N," the words and the prop knife messing around Jenna’s bandaged hand were your signal.

Channeling Laura, as well as letting Jenna’s shouts pull something out of you worked. “Stop that!” you raged, akin to a wild wounded beast, so intense it almost frightened even you and nearly made Jenna herself break the character. It wasn’t meant to sound that raw, but the scene continued.

She recovered, as great as she was, acting like she was having an asthma attack, and you could see she researched it for days until she could get all the symptoms right.

“Tara!” and carried by the intensity of the previous scream you yelled, desperation clear in your voice. It was a harrowing cry, of someone fearing the loss of their loved one, of the only person they had in the world. "You won! I can't fight back! Just let her go!"

And then, when it came the time to top even that, to escalate it even further, to have Jenna show Tara’s dedication to your character despite the asthma, she delivered. Jenna pleaded, her voice sounding like she was choking, drowning, unable to draw breath, yet just as desperate as you were. For a moment you even believed she was having an asthma attack, that was how good she was. The scene felt easy after that as you skipped the action part of the scene and picked Jenna up, while faking that it was difficult and stepped back into the hospital room.

“Cut!” Tyler yelled and you dropped down onto the floor, emotionally drained from all the takes. Luckily you really did everything out of order, so the following part of the scene between you and Jenna was already filmed. It was over, you were done with what was likely the most difficult scene of the movie. “Great job! Jenna, Y/N, that was incredible. We’ll continue tomorrow, you both deserve to rest,” he said, before congratulating the rest of the crew present on the long day of work.

“Y/N?!” Jenna jumped to her feet the moment she noticed you were slumped on the floor, and you just gave her a thumbs up. You just had to take a moment to breathe, sure Logan was intense at times, but you were a kid, and it was a lot different filming the emotional scenes in Logan than it was here.

“I’m okay, that was just intense,” you gave her a slightly tired, but still reassuring smile and she relaxed, sitting back down on the bed, the exhaustion now present in her eyes as well. “And you’ve been doing intense scenes for years, damn, you’re amazing,” you thought about the scene she had in You, and from what you knew her upcoming movie was filled with scenes like that. Frankly, you admired her talent. You got up and sat down next to her, before falling back onto the bed.

“I’m anything but amazing,” she dared to say and you abruptly sat up, in fact you sat up so quickly she turned and looked at you, her eyes wide as you watched her intensely.

“You are, and I’ll keep saying that until I get it into your head,” you promised, the tips of your fingers touching hers.

Jenna opened her mouth and then closed it, before finally regaining her composure. “Thanks, Y/N,” she muttered. “You’ll sleep really well tonight, you’ll see. Scenes like this are draining,” she promised, and you nodded, trusting her entirely.

~X~

Jenna was right, you just barely managed to get ready for bed. Hell, you were surprised you didn’t fall asleep on your feet. Your phone buzzed as you crawled under the covers and you nearly ignored it, but for some reason you reluctantly took it and saw it was a message on Instagram from Jenna.

23:46 Jenna Ortega: Hey, are you asleep?

23:46 Y/N L/N: Barely hanging on

23:47 Jenna Ortega: Oh, sorry, sleep well, Y/N.

That woke you up and you pressed the call button. It rang a few times and then she picked up. “Please go to sleep,” she opened with that and despite still being a bit sleepy you chuckled.

“Tell me what’s up?” you asked, sitting up so you wouldn’t fall asleep in the middle of the call.

“I just wanted to wish you good night,” for an actress she sucked at lying, and you just grinned.

“Jen, tell me what’s really going on?” you asked as you got comfortable.

She remained silent for a bit, before sighing. “I, I think I’m suffering from insomnia, I can’t fall asleep and I wasn’t sure who else to call. I don’t want to worry my family, and I just, I don’t know, I,” she huffed, frustrated, and you just gave her time, letting her sort her thoughts out. “We filmed so many scenes together, and I know you are tired, but I just impulsively sent that message. I was hoping you were already asleep,” she told you.

You nodded, too late realizing she couldn’t see you. “Do you want to talk? Maybe you’ll have easier time falling asleep like that?” you suggested, not really sure what would help with insomnia. You’d have to search that up tomorrow.

“You don’t mind?” she asked, prompting you to reassure her and tell her you definitely didn’t mind. “Tell me a bit about yourself? Something I don’t know? Like how did you get into cooking and martial arts? Or the role you did before C/N?” so she was curious about those things.

“Hm, let’s see. I spent a lot of my time at my neighbor’s house, playing with the siblings living there. Their mother was a great cook and would always make us snacks, either pastries or cookies, or cake, I never saw some of those recipes in my life. Well, it was natural, they emigrated from the Balkans decades ago, when she was a child if I remember correctly,” you began the tale of your childhood. Those were happy times. You’d hang out with them, your parents spent time with their parents, and somewhere along the way Barbara came into the picture as well. It was just the four of you, making your own little friend group.

Jenna hummed, sounding a lot more interested than sleepy.

“I fell in love with the recipes, and she was willing to teach me. So, when I wasn’t playing with her children I’d learn how to cook from her, starting with easier things and gradually moving onto the various cakes and pastries. It was freeing, I needed to focus, I needed to be precise, to keep practicing so I could improve, and I guess I needed that at that age,” you were a bit of a hyperactive kid, never really latching on to something long enough to get really good at it, but you were drawn to cooking. It was fun, making something and being able to eat it, or share it.

“You got really good at it, I still haven’t seen you being lazy about it either,” Jenna pointed out, causing you to laugh.

“Oh, trust me, I had plenty of days where I went for low-effort meals,” and you did it kinda regularly. In fact, you were surprised it hasn’t happened since you came here to film Scream. No matter how tired you were if you chose to cook you didn’t settle for a quick meal.

“Yeah? Could it have something to do with your co-star that would never, ever, steal something off your plate?” Jenna laughed, and your silence only made her laugh harder.

“Never, yes, that co-star would never, ever do that,” you replied dryly and heard her slapping her pillow as she tried to muffle her laughter. You couldn’t help but crack a smile at that, even if it really wasn’t helping with her insomnia. Unless it was relaxing her, and that helped, in which case you were glad you could get her to laugh, but again, you had no idea how to deal with someone’s insomnia.

Jenna’s been eating most of her meals with you, and while you always made a plate for her, she’d sometimes just go and trade something from her plate for the very same thing on your plate before you even started eating.

“Okay, okay, what about martial arts?” she asked as she calmed down.

“It was fun, and I was active as a child. It was pretty much the only thing that consistently kept me interested, well somewhat. I could never focus on just one, so I ended up going with mixed martial arts, you know, jack of all trades master of none type of deal. Feel like that kinda fits me,” you had to train and prepare for Logan, and then you just continued, and it was probably one of the better decisions you made. With time you became good enough to work at a local gym in Denver, so, maybe master of none wasn’t exactly right, but it took a lot of time to get to that point.

“You know how they continue that saying. Though oftentimes better than master of one. You look like you really know what you’re doing,” Jenna, as she usually did, found any excuse to compliment people around her, you included. That’s just how she was, wanting to brighten people’s days, make them feel good, while still being completely honest about her compliments.

“Thanks, Jen,” you could tell she was slowly getting sleepy and considered just talking about nothing in particular until she fell asleep, but she had other ideas.

“What about your previous role?” she asked and you hummed.

You feared saying you were in Logan would stir her awake and prolong the conversation instead of helping her fall asleep. “So, I was thirteen, and frankly, I didn’t have that many lines,” not a single lie there, you didn’t speak for over ninety minutes, instead only screaming and glaring. “But it was the most fun I probably ever had and I’m still in touch with Hugh and Patrick, Hugh especially,” hell, you were talking with Hugh on your phone just an hour earlier.

“That sounds-“ Jenna tried to reply, but instead she yawned and you didn’t push her to try again. Eventually, you caught the sound of Jenna’s breathing evening out.

“Sweet dreams, Jen,” you smiled and closed your eyes, letting the long-awaited sleep overtake your exhausted body.

~X~

The sound of the alarm going off woke her up and Jenna blinked, slightly dazed and confused. How many days has it been since she slept all the way to her alarm? And she actually fell asleep around midnight, so almost full eight hours of sleep. It was no wonder she felt refreshed and well-rested.

She turned the alarm off and stretched with a smile on her face, she would mostly be filming with Melissa today, so it was going to be fun to tackle that side of Tara’s character as well. She had several emotional scenes with Melissa, and one of the bigger ones was scheduled for today, the one where Sam tells Tara the truth. She was looking forward to working with Melissa more, as the older actress absolutely took on the older sister role in real life as well and Jenna honestly felt like this was one of the better filming experiences she had.

The whole cast just clicked, and the already made group chat was already filled with messages, from funny behind the scenes bits to memes and videos from different social media. Jenna had to admit she didn’t go through every message, mostly missing out on the social media shares, but she definitely saved a bunch of behind the scenes photos.

Just as she thought that she noticed a notification from late hours of the last night, it was a couple of photos from the past few days of shooting. Melissa took a few photos, David walking around with the fake blood all over him and chatting with the stuntmen that just ‘killed’ him, you stretching and getting ready for your action scene, as well as a video of herself on the floor holding back a laugh when you stumbled a bit too far after punching the mannequin, and she wouldn’t have found it funny if you didn’t get super annoyed. It was the best take yet and you, in your own words, stumbled like a fucking newbie so far you were surprised you were still in the shot. It was a glorious speech of dramatically letting out the frustration over a perfect punch being wasted on an awful ending, only spurred on by Jenna desperately trying to stifle her laugh.

She smiled at that memory, now realizing that, while the initial complaint was genuine, the rest of it was so ridiculous the only explanation that could have worked was that you simply wanted to make her laugh. And she was thankful for it. The video didn’t capture the failed take, or the initial sentence, but it did have most of the speech, as well as Jenna’s reaction, so she went and sent the video to her mom.

~X~

Melissa was absolutely sure you could have been a cook with how good the small bite sized snacks you made were. Mikey and Jasmin brought two bowls of and a plate of different flavored and shaped snacks, some that were pastries, some that were balls made up of different ingredients, some that were held together by toothpicks. And each and every one she tried was tasty. Pretty much everyone was there as Jack and Mason once again took on the role of getting setting up everything so they could watch a movie.

The only people missing were you, still in the kitchen, wrapping up serving the sweet snacks, and Jenna, who was still in her room on the call with her family. Melissa glanced toward the door, hoping to see the younger actress walking through the door. “Jenna misses her family, doesn’t she?” Melissa asked Courtney who was sitting next to her.

“This is the first time she’s filming this far from home, right?” they pretty much all knew it. Sure, Jenna was fiercely independent, but independence had nothing to do with missing your loved ones, and she was missing them. Melissa kind of hoped Jenna would use the weekend off to go and see them, but things didn’t work out in the end.

“I’m sure it is,” she answered, about 90% sure of her answer. “I think I should go and see if she wants to join us,” she got up when Courtney nodded.

“Melissa we’re about to start!” Jack called after her.

“Just getting Jenna, wait for ten minutes,” she requested and smiled when he gave her a thumbs up. When she walked out into the hall she saw you coming from the kitchen, carrying two plates filled with wonderful, sweet snacks.

“What’s up?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Oh, just figured I could try and get Jenna to come and join us,” you got serious the moment she replied, and Melissa found herself taking more and more notice of how you reacted to Jenna. “I’ve got this, you go and sit, you’ve done more than enough,” she patted you on the back and made her way toward Jenna’s room. For whatever reason you didn’t put up a fight and actually did as you were told, whether because you trusted Melissa to take care of it, or because you didn’t want to be too obvious, or for some other reason, she didn’t know, but you let it be.

She knocked on Jenna’s door and waited for a bit for Jenna to open them. “Hey, I thought you guys were watching a movie?” Jenna said, clearly puzzled when she opened the door.

Melissa shrugged. “It’s not the same without you, are you still talking to your parents?”

Jenna shook her head, but there was definitely a tiny blush on her face.

“Come on, Y/N made a bunch of snacks, and I think we’re watching the original Scream tonight,” Melissa offered her hand to Jenna and smiled when Jenna nodded.

“Can’t miss that,” Jenna figured and so the two of them went back to the break room.

When they joined everyone, they saw Jack was ready to play the movie and so they quickly went to their usual seats. Melissa went back to sit down next to Courtney and Jenna went to the sofa a bit further back where you were sitting. She took her slippers off and sat down, leaning slightly against you as you took a blanket that was next to you and gave it to Jenna.

And the strangest thing about it? It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Well, not her going to get Jenna, but the rest. Jenna sitting right next to you, with your arms touching while you made sure she was warm and comfortable. You didn’t know each other before the chemistry test, that much Melissa knew, but she still raised an eyebrow. Were the two of you closer than she guessed? Like, together? Or considering a relationship at the very least? A need to be protective over Jenna overcame her, you were a good person, kind, pleasant, but you still only knew each other for less than three weeks and she was worried if you were rushing.

Either way, when she saw Jenna grinning at something you whispered in her ear, Melissa figured she might be worried over nothing. Jenna looked happy, and besides, she had no proof something was going on between you. She did glance back a few times, though, as subtly as she could. She couldn’t hear you, but she saw Jenna leaning her head down on your shoulder and quickly pulling away, as if caught by surprise by her own action.

She could read an apology from Jenna’s lips, but you just gave her a quick one-armed hug and reassured her it was fine. Probably not together then.

~X~

One of the most ironic things about acting was just how easy it was for Jenna to remove herself from the scene. She wasn’t Jenna Ortega, she was Tara Carpenter, and Tara had no issues with sleeping in C/N’s arms, so she, as Tara, spent hours with you lying next to her and she had no issues with it. But the moment she wasn’t acting she ended up being embarrassed over accidentally leaning her head on your shoulder.

You didn’t mind. Of course you didn’t, you just made sure she was comfortable once more. You and Jenna were in the kitchen at the moment, preparing a quick snack. Jenna was cutting various fruits into small cubes for the fruit salad while you were whipping the cream.

“I think this’ll do,” she said, proud of the large bowl of fruit she got ready just as you turned the hand-held mixer off.

You nodded, glancing at the fruit with unconcealed approval. “It’s perfect, thanks for helping me out,” you grinned at her and Jenna just rolled her eyes, brushing the compliment off. Of course she was going to help you, you were friends. Very good friends at this point, and Jenna wasn’t afraid to admit she cared about you, a lot. So, no, you didn’t need to thank her, she was actually glad to spend time with you like this.

She accidentally pushed a knife off the table and without thinking you tried to catch it. Her eyes widened and she reached out, grabbing your hand before you got the chance to even touch the knife with the tips of your fingers, keeping it away from the falling knife and letting it drop onto the tiles. “Are you okay?” she asked and was genuinely surprised by the shocked expression on her face.

A falling knife has no handle. Jenna knew that, and she knew you must have known that as well, but something must have distracted you to make you try and catch it. “Shit, that was dumb,” you shook your head in disbelief. “Thanks for stopping me, Jen,” you smiled at her, and she didn’t move; neither did you, instead you just stood like that, with her hand holding your own. “Just reflex,” she nodded when you said that, frankly surprised she was quick enough to stop you.

“It’s okay, nothing happened,” she tried to ignore her anxiety that you could have been cut, gotten hurt. She ignored her fear and just tried to ground herself in the moment by repeating that nothing happened in her head.

“Still, thanks,” you squeezed her hand lightly and then let go so you could pick up the knife and Jenna tried her best to get the image of your hand bleeding, of the worst case scenario, out of her head before it consumed her. Your eyes met for a moment and she could have sworn she saw concern in your eyes. “Hey, stay with me in the moment, okay?” you reached up, rubbing her shoulder and pulling her a bit closer. “Everything is okay, neither of us got hurt,” your words did little to make her get out of her head, but they helped enough, and she nodded, trying her best to focus on the actual outcome instead of what could have been.

~X~

Jenna couldn’t remember the last time she was carried as much as she was while filming Scream. Here she was, being lifted out of a car by you for yet another scene. She got carried during the hospital action scene, then as the trio was leaving the hospital, then now, and she would be carried once more before the movie ends. She had to admit it was a bit awkward to act while being carried, and she actually felt sorry for you every time they had to repeat a take where you were carrying her.

“Better hope she’s not the straw to break your back,” Emma chimed in exactly when you went to lift Jenna up for the fourth time that day and you just broke, bursting into laughter with your arms still under Jenna’s knees and back.

“Respectfully, can you not make me laugh for ten minutes?” you cried out, reigning the laughter in and shaking your head in disbelief.

Jenna just patted you on the back. “There, there,” at least all the takes were ruined right at the start. It wasn’t some kind of blockade like during the emotional part of the hospital scene, it was more the absurdity of seeing Emma Thompson doing horror that just made it difficult to get it together. And it wasn’t just you, or Mellisa, or Jenna, or hell, even Emma herself, half the takes were ruined by Matt and Tyler not being entirely sure how big of a role Emma would have.

Eventually, you managed to get the two of the three scenes Emma would be in done, all that was left were the two scenes no one was sure were going to make it into the movie. Both were between you and Emma, first being the conversation about your character’s education, and the second being going after Sam.

Matt and Tyler gave all of you a bit of a break before you and Emma would act out your last scenes together. You all sat together on the chairs and Jenna wasn’t sure how to start a conversation; she wanted to, but Emma had only been on the set for a couple of days, and it wasn’t long enough for her to be comfortable with starting a more meaningful conversation. Emma was nice, and funny, and it was easy to act with her, but Jenna just wasn’t as extroverted as she used to be as a kid.

“Say, Mrs. Thompson,” you insisted on not calling her by her first name, no matter how many times the woman told you you could just call her Emma. ‘I don’t know her, and I won’t get the chance to know her,’ you explained to Jenna over the phone last night. “Do you have any advice for us?” you asked so casually, without a hint of worry or fear of rejection, or stepping out of line really, but it was just a front and Jenna knew it.

By now she got to know you well enough to notice the little details, like the way you slightly gripped your chair, or how you averted your eyes away from Emma near the end of the question, struggling to maintain eye contact when you were nervous, or the slightest tremble in your voice. She knew it all by now, and she was impressed that you could push it aside enough to ask what you wanted, regardless of who you were asking.

Emma seemed to give it a long thought. “You’re all already talented, good actresses, so as cliché as it is all I can tell you is that you’ll never make everyone happy, and that no matter what you say or do someone will always dislike you, so don’t waste your time worrying about that as well,” it was an advice of a woman that already reached a certain age where she was old enough not to give a damn about pleasing everyone, and despite agreeing with the idea Jenna found it difficult to follow that advice.

She was too much of a people pleaser.

Once the break was over Jenna stayed behind, though her scenes for the day were done. If anyone asked she wanted to watch Emma Thompson acting, and that was a huge part of it, another part was, well, she wanted to walk back to the hotel with you.

So, she watched from behind the camera as you rushed down the stairs to look for the key, only for Emma to turn the lights on.

“You’re here, good,” you frantically looked around the living room, checking if the car keys were anywhere to be seen. “I need to borrow your car, Sam, she-“ you finally noticed the key next to the TV remote.

"C/N," Emma's voice alone in that one word was enough to sell the entire scene. You could hear it all, the exhaustion, the longing, the motherly love, as well as grief. It was all there. And it made you freeze and look at her like a deer in the headlights. "Do you have to-" Emma's breath hitched and she paused in the middle of the sentence, as if finishing it would make the circumstances even more dire.

"I need to go," you whispered, watching her and Jenna found it hard to believe you actually only did one movie as a child. You could match the emotion, your voice, your posture, conveying an unspoken apology and a promise to come back.

The experience and the immense talent Emma had shone through as she let her lip quiver just enough for it to be noticeable if someone paid closer attention to her, but not going over the top with it. The sigh she let out was filled with resignation, acceptance of the situation, and she looked you in the eyes, a silent plea remaining unspoken. “Tara needs to have her bandages changed in the morning, keep that in mind,” and Emma delivered her final line flawlessly.

You nodded, ending the scene and taking the car keys. There wasn’t going to be a hug, or a goodbye. “Cut!” and there was the scene, first take, and it was done.

~X~

A few days later you were once again filming way out of order, going all the way to the end of the movie, or well, near the end. Right now, you and Jenna were sitting in hair and makeup. Considering what the characters were going through makeup was mostly there to make both of you look more exhausted. Frankly, you were worried about the scene, the kiss scene, for more than one reason. Between being your first on-screen kiss to how comfortable Jenna would be. Sure, you’ve gotten pretty close, and you considered her a close friend already, but you weren’t sure if that made things easier or more difficult.

Especially since Jenna’s been mostly silent the entire morning, and not just with you, with everyone. You’ve caught her getting distracted and lost in her thought even during a conversation with Matt, and that was telling something. She was more worried than she was willing to let you see, and you could already see a lot. You couldn’t even start to imagine what was going through her head.

“Jen?” you called her, but she didn’t seem to hear you, instead biting her nail and staring at the book she brought along. She didn’t turn the page in an hour you’ve spent here. “Jen,” you said a bit louder.

Her eyes widened and she abruptly turned to you, clearly startled. “Sorry, I was just reading,” she really sucked at lying, and you raised an eyebrow and she looked down at the book, at the unturned page. And it was the prologue, so, yeah. That excuse really wasn’t holding up. “I was thinking,” she admitted as she looked away.

“About the kiss scene?” you didn’t beat around the bush and asked her directly, you figured she appreciated when someone was being direct with her.

Jenna paused, looking like she was caught red-handed and slowly nodded. “Mhm.”

So, it really was that. She was undoubtedly more worried about it than you were, and it didn’t matter what the reason was, all you cared about was that it was clear she wasn’t comfortable doing the scene. “Jenna-“ you began, ready to tell her what you intended to do, but she chose that exact moment to start talking.

“It’s ridiculous, you know? I mean, we filmed so many scenes in the same bed, and sure, nothing happened, but I don’t think anyone could look at those scenes and say Tara and C/N are just friends, and now I’m worried about a kiss,” she blurted it all out. “And you’re wonderful! It’s got nothing to do with you, and I think you’ll be a wonderful partner for the scene!” she blushed when she said that, crimson red, and buried her face in her hands as she groaned and you could only watch her, wide-eyed and taken aback. “I-I’m comfortable with you, I’m just worried and I don’t want you to get uncomfortable because I’m sure you haven’t kissed anyone on camera before, and maybe you’ll find it weird to kiss a girl,” ah, right, you never explicitly told her you were into girls, the topic of past relationships somehow never came up. “And it’s a job, but we got really close, so what if that makes it difficult for you? I black out, I don’t know what’s going on, I’m not worried about me, but this whole thing just- shit, I’m rambling, and I can’t shut up, and I’m surprised what I’m saying even makes sense at this point!”

“Jenna,” you reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder. She raised her head up and looked at you. “First of all,” you pointed at yourself. “Into girls, so nothing weird there,” her mouth opened slightly in an adorable way as if she wasn’t sure whether to be surprised, relieved, or if she should have figured it out a lot sooner. “Second of all, don’t worry about me, tell me if you’re comfortable with doing this scene?” that was a lot more important to you. You were comfortable with the kiss scene, you cared about Jenna, you liked her a lot, and you absolutely didn’t mind kissing her.

She nodded slowly. “I’m comfortable with you, I promise,” even with as much confidence as she put behind her words you could still hear a bit of uncertainty in her tone, like there was something she couldn’t tell you.

You still figured you couldn’t push her too far, couldn’t risk making her self-conscious right before the scene. So, you accepted her answer. You raised your fist up toward her and grinned, choosing to instead offer her reassurance once more and then do everything in your power to make sure she really was comfortable. “If you feel uncomfortable at any moment, just tell me and I’ll get them to scrap it, say I don’t want to do it,” and you were completely serious.

Her eyes widened slightly as she looked you in the eyes. “You can’t do that, you’ll sound unprofessional,” she sounded more worried now, and it was not what you wanted to do. And she didn’t bump your fist, so you pulled it back, not noticing that she bit her lower lip a bit as you moved your fist away.

You shrugged. “I’d rather be unprofessional than have you feel uncomfortable,” there was no hesitation in your tone, no doubt, no wavering of your conviction. No matter what, you felt like your priority was to have your co-stars be comfortable, especially if Jenna was the co-star in question. And it wasn’t just because Hugh really set an example for you; you genuinely thought that was the right way to approach filming.

You watched as Jenna looked down, a hint of a blush appearing on her cheeks as she refused to meet your eyes, and you were left completely puzzled by her reaction. Somehow you felt like you actually made things worse for her, but before you could fix whatever you did hair stylist came in and you were left hoping Jenna would sort things out on her own.

~X~

You did make it worse.

No. That wasn’t fair.

You didn’t do anything unusual, you were just being you.

She recently became a bit self-conscious about kiss scenes in general, but she technically didn’t lie. Jenna was truly comfortable with you, felt a connection she couldn’t deny, so strong and fast she almost didn’t want the shooting to wrap as soon as it would. No, it wasn’t about being comfortable with you, it was about how she felt, about the feelings she was starting to have for you.

Jenna swallowed the lump in her throat, watching as the scene was being set up for the two of you. She never believed in love at first sight, that was ridiculous, at least to her. Love took time, took getting to know someone. She did believe in infatuation at first sight, and it hit her like a truck when she met you, and especially when the two of you hung out for the first time.

She pushed it aside, considering it as nothing more than physical attraction, or better yet simply taking notice of the fact that she found you attractive. And then she got to know you, and you spent so much time together, on set or during your time off.

When she first read the script, she figured she’d act the same way she did when it came to The Fallout and kissing Maddie, and that kiss scene demanded more from her than the one written in the script did. She would black out, kiss a friend, and that would be it. That was her original plan, but you just…

She wasn’t sure she could black out.

And it frightened her.

She leaned her head back against the wall, suppressing a groan. Could she just sweep this under the rug? Ignore the way her heart would beat faster whenever you would accidentally touch? Or how comfortable she felt around you? Or how she got so used to having late night talks with you, ending her day while listening to you, and then damn near starting the next day with you at breakfast?

She would have to, because this was a job, and as sweet as you were you didn’t exactly flirt with her. Or show interest beyond friendship, even if you were, as she found out a bit over an hour ago, into girls.

“Come on, just focus,” she whispered to herself and took several deep breaths. They would start soon, and she needed to get her shit together. The last thing she needed was to give away her growing feelings and end up making working with you difficult. Sure, you were comfortable with kissing her, your friend, but would you be comfortable kissing someone who had a rapidly developing crush on you?

If she, in any way, showed you how she felt, she was just going to end up making things weird between you and ruin a friendship that already meant a lot to her. And she couldn’t have that. She wanted to stay in touch, to hang out with you, to have you meet her family, and to meet your family as well. She wanted to go to your movie premieres with you, and preferably avoid going to her own because she hated watching herself on screen. She didn’t want to just see you in passing like she did with so many people she worked with over the years, she wanted to keep building this connection into something bigger, something consistent and constant, or as constant as your jobs allowed.

She didn’t want this to end, and the more scenes got filmed the closer the end got. She glanced at you as you walked over to your designated spots, and you caught her glance. Of course you did, you’ve been ridiculously attentive to her, to even the smallest signs, or movements. She could still feel the warm touch of your hand, she could still envision the look in your eyes, soft, gentle, as you looked at her, or hear the sound of your laugh and voice.

She wouldn’t risk any of that.

She was going to black out and do her job!

~X~

You glanced at Jenna every now and then. She was nervous, hell, anxious even, and you were getting more worried by the second. You could see the tension in the way she stood, the tremble of her fingers as she stood there, her hands crossed and fingers clutching at the soft fabric of her clothes. If it wasn’t for the bandage Tara was supposed to have you were sure Jenna would have been gripping her arm a lot tighter.

Whatever was going on you felt like you really had to step in, to figure out what the issue was and get rid of it. If it meant getting rid of the kiss scene, or hell, the relationship between C/N and Tara entirely, then so be it, as long as Jenna wasn’t this anxious over filming with you. You could feel your heart aching at the mere thought that the following scene could cause the younger actress so much turmoil.

You were just about to approach her, but you ran out of time, Matt and Tyler were ready.

“Okay, Jenna, Y/N, get in positions,” Tyler instructed, and you bit your tongue, resisting the urge to ask for another five minutes, but you feared that would only make things worse for Jenna.

~X~

Her heart was beating so loudly in her chest she barely listened to the instructions. Why couldn’t she black out? And worse of all she could see you were getting tense as well. She could see the way you clenched your jaw, struggling not to point out what you were clearly noticing. How much did you notice? Just her anxiety, or her feelings as well? Either way she could tell her own nervousness was affecting you as well.

That would probably cause this to take several takes. She would need to kiss you several times, and she wanted to kick herself for, deep down, feeling a bit excited over the idea. “Fuck,” she hissed, berating herself for letting her crush get the better of her. She needed to be a professional, to get in character.

But her character was madly in love with your own! So, technically speaking, she really got into her character. ‘Great job, Jenna, that’s exactly what you should have done,’ she thought bitterly.

“We can stop this,” you whispered, and since you were this close, merely a step from one another, only she heard you, but your words sounded louder than thunder to her.

She caused this. She was making a scene because she couldn’t separate job from personal feelings. And the worst thing about it? It was with you, the last person she wanted to make work difficult for.

So, Jenna forced a smile and nudged you slightly. The worry in your eyes remained, but there was that softness again. You were silently pleading with her to just focus on her own comfort, to say one word and she was sure you’d have her back and remove this scene.

‘Just black out already! Don’t be a burden!’ her mind truly was her harshest critic. “I’m fine,” she lied, thinking she could fake it until it became real. You nodded, even though she could see you weren’t buying it.

“Take 1, action!”

She slumped into your arms, like Tara was supposed to. She didn’t black out, she was aware of everything, of your arms holding her, of her own arms around you and she desperately tried to imagine that she was Tara, and you were C/N. She looked up into your eyes, like the script instructed, and saw the look in your eyes. Tender, filled with love and gentle, showing that Tara was the only one who could get C/N to act like that.

Jenna nearly pushed away from you right then and there. The look in your eyes overlapped with the way you would sometimes look at her off camera. Worst of all, Jenna found herself blurring the lines between what Tara was supposed to feel and what she was feeling. Too intense, it was too intense. Too fast. She couldn’t get her heartbeat under control and she was sure you were actually holding her up with how much the realization that she couldn’t do the one thing she always did while filming affected her.

She could not black out, even slightly.

No one stopped the scene and she resisted the urge to stop it herself. In the back of her head her overthinking brain figured this was actually selling the scene better. She felt self-conscious, uncertain, and that was close to what Tara was supposed to be feeling right now.

Her anxiety only increased as she remembered what she was supposed to be doing. Mere seconds separated her from the kiss. She was to take the lead, your character not wanting to push Tara into anything. Funny how you took that approach with her as well, outside of your characters, outside of the movie, outside of being co-stars, and she did something unprofessional. She wasn’t reaching up with her right hand and touching C/N, she was touching your cheek.

You leaned into her touch, parting your lips slightly. “Tara,” you whispered, soft, protective, your voice filled with relief and love, exactly what was needed from you as you gently wrapped your arms around her shoulders and upper back, avoiding the injuries Tara was meant to have. You were being professional, you were doing your job and here Jenna was, driven by her emotions.

She still continued, she hugged you, her right palm resting on the nape of your neck, tugging you lower as she placed her bandaged left hand on your back. The question in your eyes, the one last chance for her to tell you she wasn’t comfortable, to back away, to quit being unprofessional was presented to her, yet she, against the script, ran her fingers through your hair, gently scratching the back of your head and raising her head. She swallowed hard, completely aware that she wasn’t acting, that she was about to kiss you.

And that wasn’t the right thing to do.

Just as your lips were about to touch Jenna pulled away, gasping and taking a step back. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she quickly apologized, knowing full-well how this, all of this looked. The sudden rejection, the gasp, the way she pushed against you, and the way you froze. Everyone froze, Matt and Tyler, the camera crew, everyone, and she swore she could hear the pin drop. “I-“ what could she even say.

“What just happened?” Tyler asked, looking between you and Jenna, and she couldn’t blame him. “Y/N? Jenna? What’s wrong?” he sounded confused and concerned and Jenna looked at him, only now realizing he was looking at you for answers.

And her heart sank.

The way she reacted made it seem like you caused it. Like you did something before the shoot to make her uncomfortable. “I panicked, I just, I don’t know what happened,” she quickly said, but it all sounded less convincing than she was hoping for. “Y/N didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, hating how her emotions were getting all over the place and completely out of her control.

“Okay, what do you need? Five minutes?” he asked. Everything was set up with the intention of finishing the kiss scene and it needed to be done today, or the production would risk falling behind.

You had other ideas though. “We reschedule, call Mikey and we can finish the chase scene instead,” you said and Jenna snapped her head toward you. You didn’t look angry, at all, but she could see you were shaken by what just happened. By how Jenna stopped the scene.

“That’s a temporary solution. What if this happens again?” Tyler demanded, and Jenna knew his concerns were valid, even if he didn’t know what caused her reaction.

It would only get worse from this point onward. She reacted like that, she disrupted the chemistry between you, created a tension that couldn’t be fixed that easily. And she was certain it would be felt across the rest of the scenes you two had together. Not to mention she genuinely believed the kiss scene was now absolutely impossible.

“We’ll figure it out just give us a couple of days!” you snapped, for the first time since Jenna met you, you snapped.

Tyler raised his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine, we’ll leave it to the two of you. Jenna, you should go and rest, someone call Mikey to come here!” he instructed, wanting everything to be done as quickly as possible, since enough time was already lost on setting the scene for the failed kiss.

She fucked up.

“Jen,” you turned to her, worried and she just couldn’t take it.

Jenna shook her head, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. “Sorry, I’m going back to the hotel,” she whispered and as quickly as the cast around her leg allowed, ran out. She just needed to quickly get the costume off and she would go back to the hotel. She closed the door behind her and leaned her back against it, and though it was muffled she heard you cursing.

Why couldn’t she just black out?

~X~

It felt like everyone knew. It felt like every time someone looked at her she could see their confusion, their curiosity about the failed kiss scene. Maybe even some judgment? Toward either or both of you? Everyone knew, after all, Courtney, who had nothing to do with the scene came up to her and assured her it happened to everyone.

She truly made a mess of things.

So, she escaped into her room, trying her best not to think of the poorly hidden glances, or the occasional whispers, mainly among those that were there when it happened. She was yet to see you, and that made everything even worse. You just came back from the set and went to your own room.

Jenna didn’t dare to go and knock, she couldn’t. What could she tell you? ‘I’m sorry, I have a crush on you, and I couldn’t get into character?’ yeah, that would be a perfect, acceptable explanation.

Were you still angry at her? Were Matt and Tyler angry at her? It was the only reasonable answer. After all, why wouldn’t you be angry? You said you and Jenna would figure it out, yet you didn’t come to see her. You were just going to approach her and tell her to get it together and do her job, weren’t you? To forget about the friendship because of the scene she caused?

She needed to lie down, to try and fall asleep, and hope things would be better after sleeping. She got up and stumbled, unsteady. It felt like the whole room was spinning, like her heart was going to burst out of her chest as she leaned on her table, her trembling hands clenching around the edges of it. She knew what was happening, but she couldn't stop it, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't stand, but she found it hard to move.

"Jenna?" Melissa's voice and knocking only made her panic more. Melissa couldn't see her like this. No one could. After everything that happened this was the last thing she could allow. "I'm coming in!"

No! She tried to yell, to stop Melissa, but she couldn't speak, she couldn't stop it, she couldn't stop anything. She couldn’t black out and do her job, she couldn’t do a fucking kiss with someone she had a crush on. And now a co-star was about to see her like this, having a panic attack. Everyone will know then. Just like they found out about what she did. It’ll spread like wildfire and consume her entirely. They'll know about her anxiety. You'll know about it, about how little control she had. What will you think of her then, now that you were angry at her. Your friendship would end and it was all, entirely, her fault.

"Jenna!" she came in. She saw her. It was over. Jenna crumbled to her knees, just barely noticing when Melissa ran up to her. "What's wrong?! What happened?!" the frantic tone, the uncertain touch, Melissa didn't know what to do, and all it did was make things worse.

Jenna felt sick, nauseous. Too weak to get up, to stop this. "Do you need a doctor? Shit, what do I do?!" Melissa was panicking, but it was nothing compared to the disaster in Jenna’s head. Everything was going to crumble around her!

"No! No!" it was getting worse. This couldn't be happening, this had to end. It was all her fault for being like this.

"Okay, okay, just please calm down!" Melissa still pulled out her phone, typing something and sighing in relief and Jenna had no idea why, but she felt intense fear all of a sudden. "Just a bit more," just a bit more what? What did she do? And then her doors opened, and she pieced it all together when you rushed in.

"Y/N, I don't know what to do," Melissa leaned back, but none of it mattered. You were here, you knew now.

"Jen," you approached her slowly, calm, steady. "Can you take a deep breath for me?" you knelt down in front of her as Melissa pulled away and Jenna felt your hand, firm, on top of her own. She saw no panic in your eyes, she felt no judgment. There wasn’t any anger, just concern. She managed a slightly deeper breath, leaning closer to you. "That's it, good," you slowly pushed a strand of her hair back, wiping sweat off her forehead.

Why? Why were you having this much of an effect on her? Calming her down like this. It didn't matter, she just closed the distance between you and took a deep breath as you hugged her, letting her lean her head on your shoulder. "You're safe," you whispered, slowly wrapping her up in a hug, like earlier disaster never even happened and she grabbed onto the hem of your shirt hoping you would pull her closer to you.

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next part

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths

#jenna ortega x female reader #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader #rewrite

235 notes · View notes

rockrosethistle · 10 months ago

Text

I can't draw but (here we go again) if I could I would produce a drawing of Richie Lipschitz wearing a graphic t-shirt that says "My uncle is a BISEXUAL ✨millennial✨ with AUTISM who 🔥HATES🔥 MUSICALS and I love him SO MUCH. 🫶"

Paul spat out his coffee when he saw it.

#richie lipschitz #paul matthews #hatchetfield #starkid #npmd #nerdy prudes must die #the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #hatchetverse #team starkid #hc #jon matteson

459 notes · View notes

butterflybuckethat · 3 months ago

Text

Stranger Places

🦋 Masterlist 🦋

I'm back at it again trying to combat writer's block. Hope you like it!

Notes: Carmen Berzatto x Fem!Reader; Carmy finds you drunk in the bathroom of The Bear. (1.8k words)

Warnings: Slow burn, toxic ex-boyfriends, drunkenness

Chef Carmen Berzatto designed the restroom of The Bear as a complement to the main dining room, extending its warm minimalism to the wide sink basin, pale wood shelves and simple fixtures, all tied together by a signature scent of jasmine and oud. Not that you noticed any of this, your head being in the toilet and all.

“Cousin!” Richie was forming a plan, which always meant bad news for Carmy. A line started forming outside the bathroom. “I told you we should’ve put in two.”

“Would you shut the fuck up, Richard?” Today was not the day. It had barely been a week since the deep freeze incident, and Carmy still felt shaky at the helm. They were half a turn behind.

“Fuck you, Carmen. How am I the only one taking this seriously?”

“We need to focus.”

“No, we need to get whoever’s puking in the bathroom up outta there.” Carmy took a deep breath, forcing his gaze off the tickets. Richie continued, “if people think our food makes people sick...” His eyes blew wide, head bobbing, as if this were a foregone conclusion. “Okay?”

Carmen looked at him, practically flinching when Sydney yelled “hands.” Lately, he had seriously been considering the thought that he was a bad person. He knew that Sydney was capable—in fact, he would proudly describe her as brilliant—but, after she took over for him that night, everyone else saw it too. And yet, he was reluctant to hand her his position.

“This is big picture shit, Carm.” Richie said, softer this time, using Sugar’s words against him: some things are more important.

“Syd,” he could barely look at her. She moved into his spot, as if it were the easiest thing in the entire world, and began arranging the tickets, yelling commands. Carmy balled his hands, pushing the air out of his lungs. He didn’t resent her, he just hated himself. “Do we still have those water guns?”

“Fuck,” you spat into the toilet. Everything was spinning. This was a new low, touching your forehead to a public toilet just to feel the cold porcelain, and you had no idea how you got here. You were drinking wine! You never got drunk from wine. At least, not like this. You hadn’t been this obliterated since college, the night Mark joined Sigma and introduced you to jungle juice. You retched again, just thinking about it.

You tried to stand, digging your nails into the ridges between the subway tiles. But you stumbled, knocking into little decorative objects so meticulously placed on a shelf, and sunk back the floor. “Fuck.” You wanted to cry, but everything was so out of control. You tried focusing your sight on the now headless ceramic bear by your stockinged foot when there was an urgent knock on the door.

“Hello?” It came in all muffled.

“Mark?” you responded; voice hoarse. The doorknob jiggled.

“Are you okay? Can you unlock—” the voice was drowned out by cheers in the rest of the restaurant.

“What?”

“Can you unlock the door?” he repeated louder. You crawled over on your hands and knees and turned the lock. The knob turned and the door cracked open.

“Wait!” You pushed it shut. He tried to open the door again but you leaned against it, hastily smoothing your hair and wiping the makeup from underneath your eyes. Mark had seen you worse but that was when you were still together. It’s different now. “Okay,” you slurred, scooting out of the way and letting him in. You looked up. “You’re not Mark.”

It was a hassle getting you into the office. Carmy had you by the waist, dodging the squirt guns and confetti that came with the impromptu surprise, while you stumbled and swayed in the opposite direction.

“I’ll be right back,” he reassured once he got you settled in a chair with a big bottle Pellegrino and an uneven slice of bread. Richie and the sommelier, Ernesto, were waiting for him outside.

“Nice,” Richie pointed to the puke that rubbed off from your dress onto his shirt.

“Whatever,” Carmy responded, deciding it wasn’t worth it to mention that Richie’s suit was half soaked and covered in glitter. “What’s up Ernesto?”

He looked to Richie first which made Carmen’s palms sweat. “They only ordered two bottles.” Ernesto spoke quietly, wringing a towel in his hands.

“They?” Carmy asked, patting the kid on the shoulder to try and ease his nerves.

“She was sitting with some guy.”

“Who is this guy?”

“How should I fucking know? It’s a woman’s name on the reservation.” Carmen wondered, not for the first time, if Richie was capable of speaking at a reasonable volume.

“I don’t know, ask him?”

“He left.” Ernesto added.

“Don’t you have a receipt, credit card, something?”

“He ran.” Richie was practically giddy. “Look at this.” He carefully unwrapped two empty wine glasses from a linen napkin.

“What’s this CSI?” Carmy scoffed.

“Just look,” Richie lifted the first glass up to the light. “What do you see?”

“There’s a lipstick st—”

“There’s a lipstick stain, right.” Carmy was very quickly losing patience. “The girl clearly drank from this glass.”

“Can you get to the fucking point, please?”

“Look at his,” he held the second one up. “Notice anything?”

He squinted, searching for something to find, “No.”

“Exactly.” The glass was pristine, not even a smudge. “Thanks, Ernesto.” Richie dismissed.

“Wait,” Carmen stopped him. “You poured him a glass?”

“Both of them, yeah.”

“And you kept pouring hers?”

“No, he did all the pouring.”

You felt like shit; your head was pounding. The seltzer had settled your stomach a bit but you couldn’t bring yourself to touch the bread. And, to make matters worse, you were surrounded by strangers, with puke on your favorite dress, and where the fuck was Mark?

“How are you feeling?”

You peeked through your fingers. Carmen. “Horrible. How do I look?” You began to stand, tentatively.

He let out a little laugh.

“Jesus, you’re laughing?” you asked, incredulous.

“No, of course not.” But he had this fucking smile on his face.

“What the fuck?” You did a little shimmy, tugging down your dress, and flipped your hair which did little more than make you woozy. “How about now?” you asked after steadying yourself on his desk.

His eyes raked over you. You watched them land on your thighs, the curve of your waist, your clavicle. “You look great.”

You cleared your throat, hoping to mask the shiver that ran down your spine. “Great,” you said. You took a sip of the Pellegrino, swished it around your mouth and headed for the door.

“Wait, where are you going?” Carmen outstretched his tattooed arms, blocking your path. Your eyes widened, suddenly understanding what a compromising situation you seem to have gotten yourself in. But he backed away immediately, taking a few steps out of your way. “I-I just meant…are you sure you’re feeling well enough?”

“I’m here with someone,” you explained, shoulders relaxing.

“Yeah…”

How was he supposed to tell you? “I think you should sit,” he started.

“Did something happen to Mark?” Your eyes widened, “is he sick too?”

Carmy felt an unexpected wave of rage. You were concerned for him? This fucking bastard “Mark?” “Please sit.”

He watched as you tugged the hem of your dress and sat primly. Carmy knelt in front of you, hands ghosting your calves. He was trying to be comforting which he had never really had to be before, being the youngest. He suddenly wished Sugar were around. “He left.”

“Left?” you repeated, crease forming between your brows.

“Ditched.” Carmy braced himself for your emotional fallout. But all that came was a bitter laugh.

“What a fucking asshole.”

He searched your face, looking for some kind of explanation. “First date?”

“That would be less embarrassing. Ex-boyfriend.” You leaned back, causing the leather to exhale.

“Did he do that often? Get you drunk and leave you with the bill?” Carmen didn’t mean for that to come out so bitter. He barely understood why he was getting so worked up over this.

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry. Obviously, I’ll pay. I think my purse…” You just looked so helpless. You got a raw deal and Carmen just wanted to make sure you were okay. Big picture and all that. What kind of restaurant owner would he be if he just let shit like this happen at his place?

“No, that’s not- That’s not why I brought it up.” You looked at him. The color had returned to your cheeks, making your smudged makeup look less scary and more…hot.

“Thank you,” you blushed. “I’ve caused you enough suffering, I’m sure. I should really get going.” There really wasn’t much he could offer you but he didn’t want you to leave.

“Are you hungry?”

Was this pathetic? To be letting the man whose restaurant you just violated cook you a grilled cheese? You had a distinct feeling you were engaging in behavior your mother warned you about.

“How do you want it cut?” Carmen asked, towel slung over his shoulder.

“Triangles, please.”

“Excellent choice,” he mumbled. You couldn’t help but admire his broad shoulders and biceps that strained the material of his perfect white shirt. He set the plate in front of you. “So, what happened with you and the guy?”

“Asking the hard questions first, huh?” You grabbed half of the sandwich, licking your lips at the stretch of the cheese, and pushed the rest of it towards Carmen.

“It’s for you.”

“We can’t share?” He picked up the other half and took a bite, making you smile. But it was short lived, he pressed the question. “I don’t know. We dated.”

“How long?”

“Five years.” You shrugged, as if it were nothing. This was a practiced movement; one you’d perfected for a while now.

“Oh.” Carmen put the sandwich down.

“It’s been two years,” you assured. “It’s not like— It’s not like I’m still in love with him or something.”

“Then why’d you meet up with him?”

“What’s with the third degree?” You got down from where you were sitting on the counter. The Bear had long closed and you and Carmen were the only ones left in the kitchen. “You don’t even know me.”

“Your puke on my shirt feels pretty fucking personal.” His voice was soft, not a hint of anger or frustration. He looked tired all of a sudden, like he lost something.

“You don’t even know my name.” You spoke quietly and he inched closer, wanting to hear you. You could smell the candle, the jasmine and oud, faint on him.

“I know your name.”

“Yeah, what is it?” He was taller than you; not by much, but enough that you had to tilt you head to look him in the eyes. Bright blue.

“Milly.”

You were just staring at him, for a while, a mix of shock and confusion on your face. Did he do something wrong? “What did I say?” He asked, placing his palm on your waist.

“I should go.” You pulled away from him. Carmy wanted to pull you back but you were already halfway across the room. He could’ve kicked himself.

“I’m sorry,” he followed, watching you move things around the office. You were unsteady on your heels. Carmen rushed to help support you but you recoiled, like his touch burned. He apologized again. “Can I help you?”

“No, I got it.” You said, pulling your clutch out from behind a stack of bills.

“Can I at least take you home?” He offered, now standing on your far opposite.

“Uber.” You shook your phone. You weren’t unkind. He was a stranger after all, but he could’ve cried anyways. You made your way to the front of the restaurant, your Uber came quick. “Thanks for your help, Carmen. And the meal.” You pushed the door open, a burst of cold Chicago air cut through him.

“I’m sorry, Milly.”

“That’s not my name.” And you were gone.

Part II

#carmy berzatto #the bear #the bear fx #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy x you #Stranger Places

144 notes · View notes

garlicisgodsbestinvention · 5 months ago

Text

Family Style

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x AFAB Reader

Warnings: none? some angst? syd and carmy having a spat in the middle of dinner service, what's new

Word Count: 600 something, it's a little guy I'm new here

Syd is yelling at him.

She’s absolutely fucking shouting at him and he deserves it because he shouted first, but Richie is yelling something too and Carmy isn’t entirely sure who he’s supposed to be listening to—

“Carmen.”

He hears his name over and over again, like an alarm he forgot to turn off, half-asleep as it just goes and goes—but his mouth is still going, shaping some words he probably doesn’t even mean but Sydney’s volume is matching his and that’s just second nature, to reach that level—

“Carmen Berzatto,” a finger snapping in his face, the sight of you coming into focus when he finally looks up from the paper in front of him, Sydney still screaming from your other side.

“Honestly, like why the fuck even speak if you’re just not going to listen—“ Syd is saying, and Carmy just—

“Sydney! Carmen! Shut the fuck up, chefs!” You shout, and the whole kitchen just…quiets.

Silence.

Chopping stops; everyone stops moving. Even Richie is looking at you with raised eyebrows.

Not once have you raised your voice in this kitchen. Not once.

Even though, admittedly—childishly—he might have been trying to provoke you into it once or twice, just to see if eventually you’d crack. He’s such a fucking asshole for that and he knows it, they all know it, but it never happened. Your voice has always been perfectly even, perfectly controlled.

Maybe that’s what he hates about you.

He hated it from the moment Sydney brought you in, that control. He has none of that and it comes to you so effortlessly; the careful choice of words and the one-two punch of the right thing to say that hits him so hard in the gut when he’s so used to everything being the wrong thing.

“That’s enough.” You snap, so loud that Richie jumps in the already-quiet of the kitchen. “Chefs, fire two t-bones, two cannoli, three bone broths, and one foccacia. Now.”

There’s a chorus of yes, chef, that rings through the kitchen as everyone moves to action, and Carmy and Syd are just left standing there with you so deliberately between them. Carmy’s chest feels tight.

“We’re not going to do that, ever again,” you snap at them, and Carmy feels—well, he feels a little bit like he’s just been scolded by a teacher. Syd has a look on her face that tells him she feels the same.

“New rule,” you start to say, as the two of them stand there like children, heads hung. “Every night, we’re going to have a debrief. None of us will leave this restaurant until we’ve hashed out what has gone wrong and what we can do better. We are not going to bring what happened yesterday back into this fucking kitchen. I don’t care if I have to chain you both to the goddamn bar and keep you there until three in the morning. We are never, ever going to do this again. Am I clear?”

You look between them and Syd is the first to nod vigorously, an apologetic look on her face and a fist closed over her heart.

“Heard, chef,” Syd says, nodding.

Then you and Syd are looking at him expectantly, and he’s just so—hot. The kitchen feels suddenly really warm when you’ve got that look in your eye, and some threat about being tied to something is swimming around in his head. You cross your arms over your chest and raise an eyebrow, waiting.

“Heard,” he whispers, unable to get the word to come out any louder, fist on his chest in response to Sydney. “Heard.”

The rest of service, they’re on their very best behavior, even if Carmen’s heart beats way too hard every time you look his way.

#carmy berzatto #carmy bear #carmy the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #the bear hulu #carmen berzatto fanfiction #sydney adamu #the bear fx

222 notes · View notes

leviathanspain · 1 year ago

Note

hi 🖤 idk if this is a good request? lol but i’d really like to read the ways carmen prefers to be with reader than claire/noticing she’s THE one and not the other way round, maybe there was a little bit of an overlap??? not necessarily cheating but- and how sugar or richie or syd notice that they are endgame

i wanna be yours

carmy berzatto x reader

synopsis: enemies to lovers, carmy likes the attitude he’s developed when he’s around you, far more than being with his girlfriend

part 2

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you knew he didn’t like you.

richie had hired you, after you had walked in with a pile of resumes, dropping off five copies of yours before walking off. he didn’t even get a word in, admiring your style of exiting instead.

he had called you not even an hour later and asked when you could start.

and here you were, a week into waitressing at the bear.

it was supposed to be this prestigious new restaurant opened by some hotshot chef. but you couldn’t be quite sure, chicago had just recently become your home. but quickly you learned the dynamics, except for him, who wouldn’t look you in the eye, let alone talk to him.

“y/n!” richie slammed a hand on the door, swinging it open, “third time calling, where is she?” he looked around in the kitchen, eyes searching for you.

richie looked at carm, who was just finishing a conversation with sydney, “yo cousin! have you seen your employee? her shift started twenty minutes ago!” his shouts drew eyes from the rest of the kitchen staff and carmy turned, sighing slightly as he walked up to richie.

“she’s your employee, cousin. you hired her, you deal with it.” his lip twitched up slightly and richie sighed, throwing his hands up, “it’s shot to hell, all of it!” he slammed another hand on the door and back to the front of house.

suddenly, you barreled through the kitchen’s back door, a bag on your shoulder, impossibly stuffed with belongings as you hurried to the locker room. carmy sighed with annoyance upon seeing you. he turned back around and tried to find something to busy himself with.

“hey boss,” you looked at carmy, who didn’t look up from his cutting, “sorry i’m late there was some-“ you had prepared an excuse! carmy didn’t say anything just shook his head, “don’t wanna hear it, go talk to richie.”

you felt your cheeks burn red with embarrassment as you bowed your head, shuffling past him and out of the kitchen.

“fucking finally! i was beginning to think you thought this shit was optional.” richie spat, throwing a towel at you, “start wiping down the tables for dinner.” you sighed, taking the towel off your chest, where it landed and stuck, and threw it onto a table.

for a moment, you watched as you wiped the table, before looking over at richie, who had his brows furrowed over the cash drawer.

“why does he hate me?” you had an arm on the counter, lips pouted slightly.

richie sighed, knowing exactly who you were asking about. “carmy’s just carmy.” you groaned loudly, “that’s all anyone ever says. it’s just an excuse for him to act like an asshole.”

richie shrugged, “that’s all i got. forget about it and just keep scrubbing, we don’t pay you for nothing, sweetie.”

you blew a breath out, doing just as he said.

“can you please tell carmy that i need friday off?” you hung onto richie’s arm, pulling him as he tried to run away from you earlier. you had been talking his ear off all day about your trip, and how you’ve been needing this.

richie pulled his arm back and held his hands up, “i’ll see what i can do. no promises though, friday night and it’s just me and you up here? we’ll see.” he tried to be realistic in a nice way, although he knew there was no way in hell you’d be able to get that day off.

“we’ll see isn’t good enough, rich. i really, really need this.” you had clasped your hands together to further express your desperation, and richie groaned, “ask him yourself then! im sick of having to be the bridge between you two.”

you blinked, “maybe if i knew why carmy hated me, then maybe i’d do something about it. but fine!” you walked over to the kitchen door, pushing it open. inside, you found the kitchen staff cleaning up. you refreshed your greeting with them before asking about carmy. sydney had directed you to the office, where only a dim light was the indicator that he was in there.

it took you a moment to build up the courage to knock, but the door swung open before your hand even reached it. carmy stood there, nostrils flared as if he had just taken a deep breathe, redness around his eyes, exhibiting his exhaustion.

there was genuine surprise on his face to see you, and you had to withhold a breath, “hey boss.” his blue eyes locked onto yours for a mere second before they floated away, resting somewhere on the wall behind you.

“what’s up?” his voice raised the question and you nodded, “right- i already talked to richie and he told me to ask you, and i don’t know if you’ll even say yes-“

“get to the point.” of course, you should’ve known by his fingers tapping against the door that he was getting impatient. he was important, and constantly busy, he didn’t have time for you or-

“i need friday off.” you breathed, feeling the release of your tension in your shoulders. you almost heaved just as he answered, unsure of what he would say.

“yeah, i guess that’s fine.” he shrugged slightly before clearing his throat. he closed his eyes slightly as your face lit up, “really? thank you, boss. i-“

“can i get past?” carmy interrupted your words and stared at the door, your body halfway covering it. “yeah- of course.” you scooted further into the office as carmy pulled on the doorknob. you felt the edge of the door tap your back, and you shuddered as it swung back and slammed as he left.

blowing out a breathe, you opened the door, eyes accidentally catching carmy’s, who was standing near the kitchen door. you looked away first, still reeling from the interaction in the office. as much grace as you’ve been giving him, it was getting exhausting having to hold yourself back.

“why is he so-“ you struggled for the words to describe your boss, especially to richie. you were frustrated, carmy’s constant dismissal of you, even when you were asking for something that would affect him and his workday, he didn’t care!

“y/n, it’s just cousin. he’s harmless, don’t worry about anything. you got the day off?” richie turned to look at you, your mouth still in a pout, but you nodded nonetheless, “yeah i did.”

“that’s good! just be happy you got it off, hmm?” he tried to be a mediator, tried to be nice and hear you out, but after hearing the two of you express your anguish over the other, day after day, he was getting sick of it. “why’d you ask for it off again? i thought you didn’t have a life.”

you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you stared at the ground for a moment, “that’s true. it’s my father’s- was, my father’s birthday.” you laughed slightly, pausing before speaking again, “he grew up here, going to the local theater with his father for his birthday every year. we’d make family trips every year to come back to chicago, watch movies with him in the same theater and share a slice of cake. after he passed, my sister and i were the only ones who did it for a while, but then she got married and suddenly, it was just me.” you shrugged, “and then i moved to chicago permanently, into the same house that my father lived in. and i got a job here.” you smiled weakly, “yeah.”

richie nodded, “yeah.” matching your tone of voice. he didn’t want to speak, letting himself sit with that. you were nice enough, a good kid, and he saw something in you, a little spark just wanting to be ignited fully. he didn’t know what it would take, but it seemed like you didn’t either.

carmy hadn’t realized that he had eavesdropped the entire conversation between you and richie until richie came into the kitchen, slamming the door against carmy, who had stood there, frozen, captivated by your story.

“cousin- get the hell out of the way!” richie barely glanced at carmy, too in a rush to even think to slow down.

carmy looked down at the door as he pushed the door open, out into the dining room. he looked up to see you wiping down the counters. you had a wet rag under your hand, and you were lost in thought as your hand moved in a circular, repetitive motion. you didn’t even notice him as he inched closer, unsure of what he was going to say when you noticed him.

“hey.” carmy realized he was speaking, and as you looked up, your attention. you couldn’t help but smile, this was the first time that you had seen him so still, and so in thought.

“hey.” you returned his greeting, letting the rag go, you turned your full attention to him. he laughed nervously and that made you smile even more. it was odd, how he changed so suddenly with you.

you raised an eyebrow, “is there something wrong?” he hadn’t said anything else, just staring in thought.

he shook his head, and returned himself to the kitchen.

“weird.” you exhaled, watching as the door swung shut behind him. how could carmy go from being the biggest asshole to you, to randomly greeting you then going silent.

you’d talk to richie about it later, but for now you had work to finish.

“claire.” carmy looked surprised to see his girlfriend. it was friday, and normally she stopped by on saturdays. “i thought you worked on fridays.” he pulled her into the office and claire shrugged, “i got off early, just to come see you.”

carmy nodded, “yeah. yeah.” claire raised an eyebrow at him, “i cant leave early tho. y/n asked for the day off and i didn’t realize how much she does so-“ he cut himself off watching as claire’s expression soured slightly.

carmy sighed, “i know- but i’m her boss, im going to have to talk to her eventually.” claire rolled her eyes, “god, i-“ she cut herself off and stood up, “that’s fine, carmen. i understand, really.” her tone sounded irritated as she opened the door. carmy found himself standing to rush after her, but stopped himself.

had he really made a judgement on you based on an experience claire had with you in grade school? so far, you hadn’t mentioned claire to be someone of the past, and carmy had wondered why.

carmy blinked, suddenly getting the urge to rush after claire. but as she walked right out the front door, carmy realized that he had been too late. normally, the guilt would set right in, but as he stared out into the dining room, he could imagine you standing at the counter, eyes shying away from his.

saturday had been a rough start for you. you had spent the whole night before, sobbing at the movie theater. your eyes had puffed up so much that you had to go home, barely able to see the movie through your tears. this time of year was rough for you, especially since your family hardly called. your father had been the glue to hold all your differences together, but it seemed not to have a lasting affect.

when you had arrived late to work, yet again, you had expected carmy to give you the silent treatment, or possibly even yell, but he hadn’t said anything.

except,

“i’m sorry about your dad.” he had looked down at the floor when he said it. you stared at him, shocked that he said anything to you besides the usual, and that he knew about your father.

“how long as it been?” more. he was talking more to you, “uhh-“ you couldn’t contain yourself, “two years. but it feels like-“

“yesterday. yeah i know.” he finished your sentence. “i lost my dad too. a while ago.” he shook his head, as if shaking the feeling that came along with it.

you nodded, holding a small smile that carmy had actually made conversation with you.

“thank you. and im sorry for your loss as well.” you brushed past him, still reeling.

months passed, changing things with time, including carmen.

not only had he become a better boss, but you could consider him a friend. transitioning to kitchen staff had made that happen, including moments that made you think of him as more.

there was no doubt of the chemistry you had with him. everyone noticed it, and sydney had half the mind to encourage it.

“you work so well together! he needs something and you’re there with it! it’s actually insane, like did you guys come from the same planet?” her voice got a little high as she rambled on and you laughed, “what planet would that be, syd?”

she shrugged, “something of greatness. i mean, he’s even said it himself-“

you held up a hand, ending her little ramble right then and there, “sydney. i am not anything like the world renowned chef that runs this place. im not even a sous! i was waiting tables just a month ago.” your hand pointed out to the dining room and sydney threw her hands up, “that’s exactly my point!”

you rolled your eyes, “please stop.” you couldn’t hear her anymore, not while carmy was just minutes from rounding the corner.

“want one?” carmy had noticed you were gone. the rush was starting to slow and you had decided to take a break, not knowing he would follow. there was a cigarette hanging in his mouth glumly, a lighter being tossed between his hands.

“i don’t really smoke.” you answered earnestly. carmy brought the lighter up to his mouth, taking a moment to light it. he inhaled, and you caught yourself staring at him as he exhaled.

“you don’t really?” he sat down, closer than he probably realized. you turned to look at him, eyes hooding as they focused on his cigarette. “mhm.” you answered, leaning a cheek on your hand.

you were reaching out before you realized, fingers wrapping around the cigarette, pulling it from his mouth and into yours.

carmy watched you with surprised eyes, as you took a long, deep drag. you exhaled it, hand outstretched to return it. he took it, smiling as he chuckled.

“i’m quitting.” you admitted. looking at carmy, waiting for him to react. he didn’t, and you laughed, “did you hear me, carmen?”

carmy took another drag, pulling out the cigarette to flick it against the concrete step, “no you’re not.”

“i am- i already talked to richie and syd-“ you found yourself trying to justify your decision until he raised his voice, “no you’re not! i said no!”

you flinched, not used to having him scream directly in your face. he didn’t need to, and so he never did.

until now.

your ears were still ringing. you had been staring at carmy’s side profile for five minutes, as he stared ahead in silence.

finally, “why not?” the pure shock had kept you quiet, but you had built up emotion, and your voice couldn’t help cracking.

carmy shrugged, “just don’t. just give me time, alright.”

your frustration grew with his vague answer. he was refusing your resignation, and now he was refusing to tell you why?

carmy panted quietly. he had been in the office for more than twenty minutes, watching as he phone buzzed with call after phone call from claire.

he couldn’t pick up, not when his head was full with thoughts of you. he knew it was wrong, he knew that claire should be the only girl on his mind, but she wasn’t and he felt horrible.

he stared at the phone, swallowing thickly as he picked up the phone, opening a desk drawer and tossing it in.

ever since he had found out that you had no idea who his girlfriend was, and that her entire reasoning to dislike you had been a lie, it had strained his relationship. but claire had been close to catching onto his disillusionment, and it seemed like she reached it.

he opened the office door, breathing in deeply as he saw you in the kitchen, eyes red rimmed but still diligently at work.

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmy angst #carmy berzatto angst #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy berzatto #carmy smut #carmy x y/n #carmy fluff #the bear angst #the bear #the bear smut #the bear fanfiction

648 notes · View notes

gh0stsp1d3r · 2 years ago

Text

This night has opened my eyes

Warnings- angst, pure angst, mentions of blood, and sex, Ethan’s a lil insane, SCREAM 6 SPOLIERS

Now Ik most people hate the smiths but I love them

“Mindy was right.” You mumbled quietly, feeling the tears starting to come. He stared at you, and only you.

“Oh, you poor sweet thing. It was so easy to get into your pants, and to get your trust.” He said, with a smile.

-𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬-

“Did you ever love me?”

“Of course I did. I still do. But I have to focus on something… more important.”

“Like what?” You scoffed.

“Avenging my brother.”

-𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧-

After going over what the plan was, and once they started to attack, ethan specifically went after you.

He chased you, you tripped over something and fell down. He grabbed your ankles and pulled you towards him.

-𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝-

He held the knife to your throat, and he enjoyed the tears coming from your eyes.

“You’re so pretty when you cry. You know, I didn’t want to kill you. I still don’t, but you were there, you helped kill my brother. You helped kill Richie.”

“Yeah I did. And I enjoyed it.” You spat in his face.

His smile faded, and he was furious now. He was just about to slit your throat when all of a sudden something hit him.

-𝐀 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝟐𝟓-

Tara came over and hit him with a brick she randomly found on the ground, he stumbled on top of you for a second and you pushed him off.

You looked at him for a second, before Tara grabbed your hand and you both ran.

Sam tried to help you both up, Tara went up first, and then you did. Ethan chased after you and held a knife under you.

“It was fun sticking something in you,Can’t wait to do it again!“ He yelled.

“Fuck you!”

“We already played that game!” He said, and Tara finally pulled you up.

-𝐎𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐞’𝐝 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬-

“Hey, you know it’s totally okay if you don’t want to do this.” You remembered Ethan saying as he laid you down onto the bed softly and gently.

“No, I want to. Do you want to..?”

“Yeah. Yeah I do.” He said, with a sweet smile, unlike the sadistic one he had now.

You both had taken it slow. It’s been six months, and constant sexual tension.

“I love you. I love you so much.” You said to him quietly, while you guys kissed.

His breath stopped for a moment, he panicked a bit before saying it back. “I love you too.”

-𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥-

He promised to protect you, and that he’d always love you.

But trying to kill you didn’t feel like love.

#Spotify #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #jack champion x reader #ethan landry angst

1K notes · View notes

bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year ago

Text

Always have but never hold

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n and I welcome you to a part five. Five? I genuinely wasn't expecting this to turn into a series but look at us. Love this story to bits. But it wouldn't be here without all of you so thank you and enjoy!✨🤍

warning: shouting, swearing, fighting, mental health issues, panic attacks, past trauma.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

That day, Carmen had waited for you to show up, and the restaurant was decked out. Well, deked out in that shit hold meant a clean tablecloth, a couple of candles that he had found in the basement, and a nice warm meal he had made—the one you loved the most, the one that always, without fail, brought a smile to your face. Because right next to the fear of failing Mikey was the fear of failing you. He knew that he hadn't been himself. There was so much in his head that, at times, Carmy felt that there was someone there talking back at him. But then you would show up—or not even that. When the images from the past were crushing him, all Carmy needed was to see you. That was all, and suddenly he could breathe again. No one was screaming around him or at him.

"You're jittering like a little bitch", Richie had stepped out for a smoke when he found Carmen nearly bouncing like an atom from side to side in the back alley, as if he was trying to create friction for an explanation. The kid was a mess. Always a mess. But then he would go home or you would show up, and it's like a reset button would be pressed. "Fuck off", Carmen hissed at him, pulling out his phone for what felt like a million times and quickly glancing down the street. "What's going on, Carm?" Richie's voice was almost soothing. As if he had given up on the shit he usually did. As if he felt that this might be lethal. Might change something. Might lead to some absolute chaos.

Carmy let out a frustrated sigh, "She's not here... Should have been here thirty minutes ago... She... she should", running his hand through his hair in hopes of pushing the messy curls away from his face, Carmen pressed the call ID once more. "Your girl?", Richie asked, and Carmen just nodded. Cursing once the line went dead. His hand ran over his chest. You'd always tell him to take a deep breath and then exhale in three. A shiver ran down his back as he could almost just make out your voice telling him that.

Richie's video pierced the silence, "Has she been okay?", had Carmen always wanted to punch Richie, or was this a sensation that only bloomed now? Was he trying to tell Carmy that he had missed something? That he missed something, but Richie didn't. "No, she has not fucked been okay, okay?", Carmen spat, moving to walk again, shaking his hands as the light needles started to pinch the very tips. "She's been upset; she wakes up screaming; she pukes most nights; she...", he blurred you. And now all he could see was you. You all pale by the toilet. You holding back tears. You pushing him away only to hold onto him so tight that Carmy could barely breathe. The spark that Carmen loved so much within you was fading. You weren't you, and he just let that be. Let you self-sabotage.

"One day", you had told him the first time you had woken up screaming, drenched in sweat, "I'll tell you, just not now". And what ripped at Carmy the most was that those dreams had stopped. Not immediately, but they did, and you slept through the night perfectly. And you had told him that it was because he was there holding you. Because you felt safe. Carmy made someone feel safe, and now... you didn't? You were screaming again.

"Fuck", Carmen barked, kicking the trash can, clenching his first up so that he wouldn't yank it over. "I called her", and Carmy almost missed that because Richie's voice was barely a whisper. "What?", Carmen turned to him, stepping closer. Richie throws his cigarette to the ground. "That night after the... when she cut her hand... I just", the man admitted, and for the first time, Carmy was seeing emotions that he hadn't seen before in his face. "Richie, what the fuck are you talking about?", Carmy said, still confused, "I called her because I..", Richie stopped, running his hand over his mouth, "I called her a burden from New York and told some pretty shit...", "You fucking what?", now Carmy was all up in Richie's face, and the sheer anger in his blue eyes...

"I called to apologize, cousin", "Have you been giving her shit this whole time?", Carmen was a step away from ripping at Richie's shirt. Because fuck, does it all make sense now? "Carmy", Richie pleaded, "Have you been giving her shit, you son of a bitch?", now his fingers were gripping the material of the beef shirt, wanking at it and ripping the fabric apart. Shouting shit. Carmen didn't even understand himself until his knuckles came in contact with the cold wall, and he realized he had missed Richie's face.

Carmen was calling your phone over and over again as he made his way back. He ignored the street signs and the red stop lights. They could all fuck themselves. You were going to be there. You were. You didn't make it to the restaurant because you got lost in unpacking. Yeah, that's what it was. And you... And he was going to apologize. Crowl to you if he had to. How did he manage to miss Richie giving you shit and eating at you? Carmy left his car half on the street as he ran towards the door. Skipping every other step as he rushed to your floor. Heart beat faster and faster with every step as the number of doors changed.

Carmen wasn't sure what he was truly expecting, but it sure wasn't to see Claire sitting in the living room, flipping through some of your art books. Carmen had to blink a couple of times because this couldn't be true, right? She smiled at him the moment her eyes landed on Carmen, but he only looked at her as if she was a dead body walking. "What... why are you here?", Carmen stuttered, shaking his head as Claire stepped closer to him. "I wanted to surprise you. You didn't answer any of my calls and..."

But he doesn't even let her finish as he turns away from her shouting, "Y/N, Y/N!" Carmen yanked the bedroom door open, nearly tripping over one of his shoes that was thrown across the room. It was a mess. The drawer that held your day-to-day clothes was empty. The hoodie—his hoodie—that you had worn when Carmy left a couple of hours ago was thrown to the floor carelessly. "Fuck no, Y/N!", Carmen rushed to the bathroom, but there was nothing there. A messy sink opened up cabinets.

"What did you say? What did you say?", he turned back around because he could feel Claire following him all of this time. "Carmen, she moved out. Didn't you know?", she said in such a soft voice that made Carmen want to vomit. "Moved... What? What? No...", his brain felt like it was overheating. You can't be moving out. No, you wouldn't. You...

"Your roommate", Claire said, and Carmy had lost the last piece of coolness he had. "What fucking roommate, Claire?", he barked out, making the woman step back slightly. "What roommate? That was my fucking girlfriend", he spat out. Claire looked at him with big eyes. Eyes that were almost glistening with tears but that didn't pull a single string in Carmy's heart. His world was crumbling there and then. Right at this moment. It was slipping through his fingers.

"I'll love you forever", Carmy had whispered one night. You were pressed against his naked chest, running your fingers over his tattoos. You hadn't been talking for some time. The comforting silence was more than enough. Your naked frame was so close to his that it felt like you were seeping into his skin, and Carmy never wanted that feeling to fade. "You don't believe in forevers", you muttered, pressing a light kiss to his chest before your eyes met his, and Carmen needed to do a double inhale because the share beauty of you was so raw, so real, so here, so his, and so unimaginably gorgeous, right here in his arms. He had managed to find you. Someone who understood. Someone who was okay with his shit. Someone who saw him whole and didn't turn away. Someone willing to embrace him even with all the trauma and scars that were still hurting. "I believe in a forever with you", Carmy had whispered, and the way your eyes had sparked. Carmy had never seen eyes shine so brightly before, and he had ignited them. He only hoped that you saw the way you were healing him too.

"Fuck", Carmen said, nearly collapsing to the floor when the ringing sound faded, and he could hear something on the other end. "Thank you, thank you; Where are you?", he muttered, starting to pace once again. But there was no answer. Carmy pulled the phone away from his ear, watching the seconds running on his screen. You had answered; he wasn't imagining it. "Y/N, baby, where are you?", Carmy begged. He had no right to; he knew that, but he still did.

"The other girlfriend didn't pick up her phone this time?", you asked so bitterly that the blood in Carmy's body had frozen as he fell silent. "There's no other...", Carmy barely whispered, and you let out a bitter laugh while still sniffing. "She walked into our home, Carmen, OUR home! Shinning like a fucking Christmas tree", the words felt like venom. Stinging. Poisonous. Raw. Your breathing was uneven.

"I'm not...", he rasped out once more, not sure how or what to say when someone honked in the background of your call, "Are you fucking driving? Get out of the car! Stop the car", he raised his voice instantly. You were going to die. Crash the car. Drive into someone. Not stop in time. Like Mikey, you were going to rip the last good thing out of him and leave him alone in this shity world. But it's like you weren't even listening to him. "I saw the messages", a cry left your lips, "You fucking shit". Carmen fell numb at that. His eyes raised to meet a lost-looking Claire, who was still there, standing a handful of steps away from him.

"How long, huh? Was I not good enough?", your voice pierced Carmy's mind. Now. Only now did he realize how this looked. What he's been doing What he's been putting you through because he was selfish. A selfie piece of shit because he was holding onto something. Like a kid too scared to give up a pacifier. "Speak, you fucking ass, own up to it", you said in a loud voice. He could feel your pain now. Almos heard every single tear that was slipping down your cheeks. "She's the only good fucking thing from my past, okay? My family—all of them loved her; she—everyone wanted her. She made me feel stable like it's... but... but I'm not", Carmen didn't get to finish his words as the most painful sob rang out. Somehow even more painful than the night he held you in the bathroom. Just that night, he didn't know what had caused it; now it was him. All of this was on him.

"Fuck you, Camen, fuck you", you crocked out. "No, listen, let me..." he pleaded, but you were having none of it. "Be happy with her then. Fucking thrive!", you spat with an angry rasp, yelling at someone for cutting in front of you, leaving Carmy to cringe at the thought of you crashing the car once more. "No, listen, you're not listening", he tried much softer now. He wasn't sure what to do. How was he going to find you? Should he go to his car? Drive around? Make a false call to the police? What the fuck was he supposed to do?

"No, you fucking listen! I gave you everything. I gave up everything for you fucking...", another sob slipped past your lisp, and Carmen could hear the car speeding up with every word you said, "I did everything for you, and you do this after everything? You have no heart, you asshole!". Carmen felt tears slipping down his cheeks; his throat was tight, and his chest heavy. But he was fighting every single thought that was telling him this was it. He couldn't. He didn't know how to function without you. You were the thing holding him together. He couldn't...

"I love you; come back, yeah? We will figure this out", he pleaded again, gripping the phone so tightly in his hand and ripping at the roots of his hair with the other. The silence fell for a moment. For a moment, a flicker of hope ignited. You heard him, yeah. You will be back soon. Carmen will explain it all. He will make it better. He will save this. He will get you back. You will be there, and his heart won't explode. "Fuck you! Now you can get rid of your New York burden forever", the words washed over him like a wave. Like a wave, you weren't expecting to crash over you. Like something had wrapped itself around your leg and yanked you under. "No, Y/N, no, hey", Carmen said, but the line went dead. The beeping filled his ears. And for a second, Carmen thought that was the monitor telling him, well, pal, your heart just stopped. You've died. In approximately less than a minute, your body won't have enough oxygen. Your brain will die, and you will be gone.

With shaky hands, Carmy dialed your number again and again and again and again, and it went straight to your voicemail. "No, fuck", he tried once more, hoping and praying to whatever god he believed in. You couldn't walk away. He needed you. He couldn't do this without you. "Pick up, pick the fucking...Fuck", Carmen yelled, throwing the phone at the wall. Screaming at the top of his lungs as he watches the light pieces scattered across the floor.

"Carmy", his name, made him want to vomit as he turned his head to the side. "Get the fuck out", he roared, pointing his finger to the door. "Carmen, baby", Claire pleaded, daring to step closer but regretting that decision straight away when Carmy's hands gripped her upper arm painfully tight. "Im not your fucking baby!", he roared, making her shiver. He wasn't seen clearly. He wasn't seeing at all. Solid colors only. The drumming in his ears was so painful that he wanted to rip his head open and make it stop. "Carm", Claire pleaded, trying to touch his cheek, but he stopped her palm midway before shoving her close to the door. "Get the fuck out, or I throw you out the window".

Carmen doesn't remember when or how she left. The static in the room was driving him insane. He walked aimlessly around the apartment. He choked for air. He shouted your name. He shouted for help. Clawing with his fingers at his throat because he couldn't... there was no air. Nothing. He hit his head a couple of times with his hands, aimlessly turning around and searching. Searching for you. But you weren't here. You will not be here. Never will be here. He wasn't sure how long he trashed the place, throwing things around.

Carmy only remembered popping two pills in his mouth. He remembered digging through the drawers. Looking for any piece of clothing that belonged to you. He remembered crawling into bed still fully clothed, shoes on, jacket on. Pressing your shirt closer to his chest, breathing in the scent of you. Shutting his eyes as tightly as possible, trying to imagine you here. You're just in the bathroom. You will come back soon. You will lie beside him. You will go back to bed. He could sleep now. He would not be alone. He was alone.

"Look at me", he gripped your chin firmly, "Say it again and fucking mean it". You were trembling. Jittering to get away. To push back, but that only earned you a firmer grip. "I'm no one. Will never be enough", you whispered, trying to hold onto his wrist so he wouldn't shatter your neck. "And?", he shook your whole body with the yank of his hand. There were going to be bruises tomorrow. "And I should be thankful that you are here with me and that you spare me your time", you muttered, a sickly smirk spreading across his face. "Exactly, you worthless piece of shit."

Your body jerked up only to be met by the firm press of someone's palm pushing into your chest, making you let out a scream in return. A scream that was met with touche down your back and a feeling of a warm embrace. A calm heartbeat. Steady. Familiar. You felt stuffy and warm. Sticky from the sweat your shirt was soaked in. Clinging to your body. Feeling like the hands that gripped you in your sleep. You quickly moved to pull at it, trying to free yourself from that dirty feeling. To let your body be free. Scratch that uncomfortable, sick feeling. You dropped the damp material away, clenching your fingers at the still-lingering sweat there that you wanted off.

Then you remembered the feeling of someone's hands that still lingered, jerking away and nearly falling from the bed. Only to be met with the same arms holding onto you. And you let them guide you into that same warmth. Your damp skin presses against the soft skin. "You're in Copenhagen, not London", the voice said. That deep, calm, soothing voice rang in your ear, and your fingers instantly curled around the biceps. Before moving to graze his side, holding, savoring, and grounding, "I've got you, bunny".

The air was much crisper here. Mornings so much calmer. No one cursed in the streets. No one shouted. Everyone, even the people you didn't know, greeted you with a quick hello as they passed you with their bikes. Your mind was as scrambled, if not more so, as the day you came here. How you managed to find, sit, and navigate your way here was beyond you. Because you weren't here. Mentally, you felt dead. Drained to the point where you cried for the first 48 hours here. Then sleep for approximately the same time. Nothing made sense anymore. The gaping, black, bleeding hole in your chest ached without any signs of stopping anytime soon.

"Hi", you muttered, stepping into the much warmer building and enveloping in the smells that made your stomach growl. The guy in front of you smiled, "At the back, you know it", he pointed towards the back room. "Thank you, Chris", you smiled at him softly, tugging at your scarf as you walked past the front desk. The kitchen was silent. Someone was humming, and you could hear a light tune of music coming from someone's headphones.

The blue eyes caught your gaze almost immediately. Dropping a piece of dough onto the table before whipping his hand on his apron. "Finish up in here, chefs. I'll be back in a few", his voice was firm. But so much calmer. Straight. Strong but calm. Maybe it was his self-esteem that made every sound that came out of his mouth undeniably soothing.

"Hey, bunny", Luca said, his hands wrapped around you, with you two still standing in the middle of the kitchen. You buried your face in his chest. Breathing in his cologne. "Hi, do you have a minute?", you tilted your head up at him. Sometimes you forgot the height difference between the two of you. The way he towed over you. If you wanted to reach his shoulders, you would have to stand on your tippy toes. It's hard to imagine that, at some point, you used to be higher than him. Until puberty hit and the roles were reversed. "For you always", he said with a light kiss on your forehead as he guided you out the back.

That's what it was. Luca was the polar opposite of Carmen. Where Carmen's anxiety only edged you, Luca was a wall of steel, calm, and inner peace. Making a perfect shelter for your anxiety and fears. "Did you manage to sleep at all after I left?", Luca asked, handing you a freshly baked rabarberhorn that you didn't even notice him picking up as you walked out. Tears welled in your eyes as you held on to the still-warm baked good.

"Hey, what's this all about, huh?", Luca tilted your head up softly at the sight of the tears, pulling the little outdoor chair you had sat on closer to him. "You're too fucking good to me", you muttered, watching his strong gaze. Luca let out a sigh, leaning closer to you, "I promised to always be there, didn't I?", "You could just walk away and trick me and...", his palm cupped your cheek. "We went over this many times. I'm not them, and you're worth it," he said as you leaned in and pressed your forehead against his. Letting the fog in your brain ease up slowly. Luca ordered you to eat up shortly, muttering something about how he added extra rhubarb and marzipan just for you and that you shouldn't tell anyone about that because he might get a line of unhappy customers.

Luca lit up a cigarette, offering it to you after a couple of drags. "Did he call?", the question stiffened your bones, but you knew that, in a way, you still owed him a full story of what happened. I mean, you just showed up at his house, snot running down your nose, eyes as red as if you were smoking weed for the past week." Called, texted, left voicemails, sent an email, even", you let a warm inhaler ripple through your system. Welcoming the sensation before puffing out a cloud of smoke. "I didn't reply to any of it", you chuckled lightly, "yet I tell myself that I don't care, but I... I stop and shiver constantly at the thought of something happening to him. I would be the one to blame if he..."

Luka shook his head, taking the cigarette from your fingers. "A, it's good that you haven't, and B, you wouldn't be". You wanted to argue back, but the look in Luca's eyes was clear enough. He wouldn't back away until you agreed, so you dropped it. "Well, if not that, then I feel guilty for leaving Sydney and Marcus there; I care about them", you picked at the side of the pastry, not lifting your gaze up. "Don't write me off as a dick, bunny but..,", Luca muttered, "You care about them, Carmy included, but who cares about you?"

You wanted to argue about that, but you stopped mid-sentence. There was truth in his voice. Those people were mostly strangers. You weren't meeting up with them. You didn't even have their number, now that you thought about it. Chicago was a ghost town for you. Unfamiliar and cold. They all probably haven't even noticed that you were gone. Was Carmy with Claire now? Maybe she moved in... but in a week?

You stood up quickly, dropping the rabarberhorn on your chair as you motioned for Luca to push his chair further away before you set on his lap, hiding your tears in the crook of his neck. You felt him shaking his head, but he held back on the words that were lingering at the tip of his tongue. Luca's fingers quickly brushed through your hair as he held you close. Just like he had been for the past week.

"Did you tell him about Ezra?", now this question tore through your body as if someone had come up and started skinning you there and then. You knew that Luca was smart. You know that from what you told him, he was putting the dots together. You shook your head just as another wave of tears rolled down your cheeks, and you clenched Luca's blue shirt between your fingers. "Why, bun? That's some serious shit you...", but you cut him off midway, "Because Carmen was staring to remind me of him".

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @nishinoyahhh @thewulf @shewasthelimit @chatitajens @azxulaa @hidingfromtex @randomhoex @hopplessdreamer @lostinheavensworld @jackierose902109 @gallaghrh @gabbycoady13 @harrysmatcha @lady-bellyn @lovejoyenjoyer @infinitelycharmed23 @royalestrellas @hanula18 @thoughtfulmoonchild911 @buckys-winter-child there's so many of you here now, my little heart is so happy 🥺🥺🥺

#carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy the bear #luca the bear #chef luca #the bear imagine #the bear x reader #chef luca x reader

808 notes · View notes

sage-green-matcha · 1 year ago

Text

STAB - ETHAN LANDRY 🔪

Billy and Stu? Nah, Y/n and Ethan 😋

Content includes: Bimbo!Reader, sweet gf! Ethan Landry, gf!Reader, mentions of blood, killing, shooting <3

A/n: I love stu sm and I would 100% be that type of gf 🤭

"My mom and dad are gonna be so mad at me!" You cried, holding the stab wound Ethan had done on you.

"Shut up Y/n!...You look good by the way" he mumbled, watching as Sam held a panicked look in her eyes. "This literally sucks! You said we could..." The pain was too much, stopping you in your tracks.

"What? Yea, we can still go on a date, but we have work to do" he sighed, rubbing his temples. "You said this would be fun!" You squirmed, wiping the blood that was seeping out of your slashed shirt.

"This is fun, sweetheart!" You rolled your eyes, taking deep breaths to distract yourself from the pain. "It's not fun! Babe, you literally stabbed me! You said we could just use the fake blood on me!" You groaned.

"It's not believable like that!" He spat, dropping the ghost face mask next to him.

"Are we gonna finish this or what? I can't die! I have a fucking final next week" you cursed, limping over to Ethan.

"Yea, can you still walk?" Ethan asked, placing his hand around your waist. "I'll be fine"

Sam finally broke out of her trance, running towards Tara. To say she was shocked would've been a lie. She basically already knew it was you and Ethan, you two came out of nowhere.

"I got the gun, who do you want me to kill first?"

"Go wild, sweetheart"

His words gave you confidence, bullets being shot as everyone ran. "Got one!" You smiled excitedly, watching as Mindy tumbled to the ground. "Always hated that bitch, talks too much" you mumbled, holding your wound as you looked for the others.

All the doors were locked, the windows were boarded up. There was no way for all of them to escape.

You and Ethan eventually killed off the rest, Sam being the last one. You had shot her in the stomach, waiting for Ethan to finish the job.

"Fucking...pathetic" her words were mumbled, her blood mixing in with the one of her sisters and Highschool friends. "Shut up!" You hit her with your gun, blood spilling from her mouth. "You know I'm...right. He had you kill them because he's too scared"

You glanced at Ethan, his eyebrows furrowed. "Come on babe, show her. Show her you're not scared to fucking kill her!" You yelled, frustration running through your laugh. You kicked her in the ribs, watching as she yelped in pain.

Ethan just stood above her, he had only killed Tara so far. "Are you gonna do it? Your dad would be so proud Eth..." You smiled, his expression changed as you waited, tears falling from Sam's face.

He needed time, time to watch as she suffered the same way his brother did. Richie was never a good role model, not even a good brother. But Ethan knew this would gain him his dad's respect, and that was all he had ever wanted.

"It's okay, I can wait for you" Your glistening doughy eyes made him melt. He had to do this for you too.

He pulled his gun out, his eyes watching carefully as a loud gunshot went off. Sam Carpenter was finally dead. He expected himself to feel better. He thought that the feeling of loneliness would fade with each second that she suffered.

But he felt the same. He felt like a sidekick, he felt useless. And it's not like he even did this in honor of Richie. He didn't do it for himself. He did it for you and his dad.

"So...what do we do now?" You honestly didn't expect to be the first successful ghost face. When you mentioned the idea to Ethan he was on board right away. You guys had only taken the plan this far and now you had no idea what to do.

"I guess we clean up now..."

You cringed at Ethan's words, a frown on your face. "Weren’t we just gonna say we got attacked and were the only ones that survived?"

"Hmm yea, I guess. I didn't do that stab wound on you for nothing. But I will admit, you look really cute limping around”

You rolled your eyes, bumping his shoulder as you walked past him. "You're lucky I didn't stab you back.”

597 notes · View notes

harlowsbby · 3 months ago

Text

Stick With Me

lil summary, this is a fic based off Jack’s character Scalvo from The Instigators 💓

“Alright yeah, yeah I told you I’ll meet you at the docks later… alright see you soon.” You frowned as Scalvo got off the phone with Richie.

“What does he want?” Scalvo tossed his phone on the other side of the couch before looking down at you. “Well if you must know little miss nosey.” Scalvo flicked the tip of your nose lightly making you laugh.

“He wants me to meet with him tonight along Casey and some new guy I guess his name is Rory.” You rolled your eyes and shook your head at him.

“I thought you were done with Richie and Mr. Besegai I told you they don’t mean you any well and they don’t treat you right.” You quickly removed yourself from his lap and made your way into the kitchen.

“They treat you like shit babe and yet whenever they come knocking you go and answer every single time.” You spat.

Scalvo groaned but nonetheless followed after you because he hated arguing with you and he hated being the reason you were upset.

“I know baby but look I promise this will be my last job with them and I promise after this I’m done.” Scalvo wasn’t necessarily a big softy but when it came to you he was like putty in your hands.

“You said that last time Scalvo.” You snapped causing him to winch at you using his name. Usually you’d call him babe or baby but you never addressed him by his first name unless you were really upset.

You hated that Scalvo worked with Richie and Mr. Besegai you know they were trouble and treated Scalvo like he was less than. You didn’t agree with what Scalvo did for work.

On the other hand you also knew this was the only lifestyle he knew so it was hard for him to just change and cut that all off over night.

“And now you got some new guy coming into your little gang.” He chuckled at the word gang making you glare at him. “It isn’t funny babe I worry about you okay? I promised you we’re done with this shit.”

You knew he’d never be done because working for Richie and Besegai was quick and easy money something Scalvo liked. He figured what was the point of waiting two weeks for a pay check when you can get money in less than 24 hours.

He sighed and made his way around the kitchen island making his way to you. Once he was close enough he leaned his back against the counter and made grabby hands to you.

Signaling he wanted you to come to him which you did.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you leaned forward and rested your head on his chest. His head dipped down a bit so it was resting on top of yours.

“Look babe you don’t have anything to worry about okay? I promise I’ll be safe and after this I’m done with them completely he just needs my help.” You mentally rolled your eyes because you knew this wouldn’t be the last time.

“Fine, but please call me when you’re on the way home yeah? You know I’ll miss you.”

You always had him call you after he did a mission for Richie and Besegai. You just wanted to be able to hear him and to know he was safe.

“I promise I will baby now give me a kiss.” You smiled as you reached up on your tippy toes to give Scalvo a kiss a quick peck on the lips.

You went to pull away but he wasn’t having it he quickly deepened the kiss and grabbed ahold of your ass and squeezed it tightly. “Scalvo!” You gasped making him grin.

“What? You know I love doing that now give me some more sugar.” You chuckled and leaned in again giving him another kiss which quickly got heated.

The two of you were so wrapped up into one another that you didn’t even notice Cobby walk in with a box of donuts in one hand and your iced coffee in another.

His jaw flew open and he gagged the minute he saw the two of you.

“Hey, hey come on now can you two little fuckers not fuck where we eat?! That’s fucking disgusting.” Cobby gagged. “Honestly do you have no home training?”

He immediately grabbed the Clorox wipes and started wiping the counter where the two of you were. “Relax all we did was kiss.” Scalvo stated as he shoved Cobby out the way.

“And? Take that shit upstairs.” Scalvo smirked before grabbing ahold of your hand. “Better make sure you cover your ears then.” Cobby rolled his eyes as Scalvo led you upstairs.

“I can’t stand that little piece of shit.” Cobby muttered but nonetheless made sure he was out the house the minute he heard the bedroom door shut.

(first lil fic in a minuteeeeeeee I promise ima get back to posting some Jack fics soon! I got one coming out later this month! 💓)

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you

90 notes · View notes

sardonic-the-writer · 2 years ago

Text

𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐔𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐃𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟖𝟎'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: mention of one slur, (that is reclaimable don't come for me twitter), homophobia, death, etc

↳ song: american pie—don mclean

masterlist!

• Compared to the old giants that were London and Rome, Derry was an infant in terms of age

• But it didn't feel that way. The whole town had this sort of tint to it, like the stain of coffee on white paper—or the quality of an old polaroid that had been stuffed away and forgotten

• You had lived there most of your life. Gone to Derry Elementary, Derry Middle, would go on to attend Derry High, and would probably travel on to the closest college you could find to the area—unless something drastically changed that, of course

• It was almost like the whole place had a grip on its residents. And it wasn't like the comforting grip of your mother's hand as she led you through the grocery store. It was a harsher one. A cold and clamy grip, holding you tightly in place until you rotted away working a minimum wage job with no future in sight

• So thank god you had stumbled across the losers in your last year of middle school and changed just about everything

• It had been the last week of school when you had stupidly picked a fight with the biggest knothead in school and his gang of pimple faced idiots, figuring that if you were going to die anyway, might as well do it young

• Your school books had gone sprawling across the freshly waxed school hallway one fateful afternoon in May, the disaster courtesy of Derrys biggest doucuebag Henry Bowers

• In fact, you had told him he was such a thing to his face, which would be the reason you were currently being subjected to the pleasure of watching as Henry and his goons ripped up all of your school papers in front of everyone

• Math homework, eat your heart out

• You didn't, however, expect a stuttering voice to speak up from your left not long after watching the science paper you had worked so hard on get ripped to shreds

• "Guh-guh-guh-get fu-fucked Bowers!" A lanky kid spat out from your left, drawing most people's attention over to his blazing brown eyes instead of Henry's ugly mud colored ones

• You recognized your knight in shining armor, so to speak, as the infamous stuttering Bill Denbrough. He wasn't an unfamiliar face to you—in fact, you were pretty sure the two of you had homeroom together. But until that moment you'd never given him a second thought beyond asking to borrow a pencil

• Bill wasn't alone, either. Three more kids stood idly behind him, each one looking more anxious than the last. You'd later learn all their names to be Stan, Eddie, and Richie "Trashmouth" Tozier—the man of a hundered voices as he'd introduce himself. But right then, they were just more people to add to this already overcrowded shitshow

• "Muh-my buh-buh-bad Billy." Henry mocked Bill's stutter poorly, crossing his eyes crudely while he did it. "Duh-did I mess with one of yuh-your fag fruh-fruh-fruh-friends?"

• The shrill chorus of giggles that his friends let out at his words were like nails on a chalkboard to you

• "Takes one to know one." Richie had mummbled under his breath sourly, pushing the thick glasses he wore up his nose anxiously. The only people who heard him couldn't help but break up into a fit of sudden giggles—who of which just so happened to be you and Bill

• Both of you were found sporting black eyes the next day

• Ever since that odd school day, you had found yourself spending more and more time with each of them

• Riding bikes with Bill in his street as you got left in the dust by him and Silver, listening as Eddie rambled on nervously about all of the weird sicknesses he had gotten, furiously smashing buttons on arcade games in an attempt to beat Richie at least once, helping Stan organize all of his comics by color and alphabetical order—all became a part of your summer routine

• You quickly became a part of the losers club. Another peice to the odd puzzle you all made together. And you'd be lying if you didn't say it felt damn good

• It was only after Ben and the others showed up that things began to get both better and worse

• For starters, you had begun to see red balloons and dead kids everywhere—a detail that would later become a much bigger issue

• But you also found yourself making three entire new friends, which including Stan, Eddie, Richie and Bill, was the most you'd ever had

• Hot summer evenings down in the barrens and, eventually, the clubhouse now had a new sense of comradery to it

• You enjoyed talking with Beverly about certain book series the both of you kept up with and what songs she could play on the piano. Asking Mike about all the adventures he had gone on after hard days of farm work became a highlight of your Saturdays. Pouring over books in the library with Ben quickly became one of your favorite activities, the two of you sharing recommendations with each other. Even the librarian eventually got old of the two of you whispering excitedly to each other about story lines and character development

• Occasionally Bill or Richie would bring another kid down to the barrens to play with. It would be fun, but you all were thinking the same thing throught it all—that they were not a part of the club. That title was reserved for only the eight of you. And it would stay that way

• Together, all of you would eventually have to beat a common enemy together, sacrificing parts of yourself with it. But for now, you were content to watch as sticky syrup from popsicle sticks dripped down into your hands while you all walked to the movies, laughing about god knows what, feeling like nothing else in the world mattered but each other

863 notes · View notes

somanyratsinthewalls · 10 months ago

Note

Could I get sum uuuuuuuh bubbglegum with some hints of lemon ice and Neapolitan and bluebell? (Aka Buggy x Reader talking about the rest of the crossguild members but I’ll leave it up to you if they actually include Mihawk and Crocodile as an audience or if Buggy just talks big shit)

Pairing: Cross Guild Buggy x Female Reader (oh and a lil Crocodile and a lil Mihawk hehe)

WC: 2000

Prompt: “You think I don’t care about you? What do you want me to do, push you out there and fuck you in front of them?”

— —

*thunk* *plop*

“Grrrrowwwww…” Richie leaps across the wooden floor to retrieve the red bouncy ball you were casually firing off against the wall of the ship. Richie bats the ball around in his paws a few times before putting it in his mouth and trotting back over to where you were reclining on a velvet sofa. The lion drops the slobbery ball into your hand that was lazily draped over the edge of the couch.

*thunk* *plop*

You throw the ball again. Richie repeats his motions.

*thunk* *plop*

And again. You were bored out of your mind. Your husband had been sitting in the grand meeting room on the other side of the wall for hours now. You knew that with his new alliance with Mihawk and Crocodile he would have less time to dote on you, but you had barely even seen Buggy in days.

You had tried terrorizing the nearest villages in attempts to keep yourself entertained, but without the warm presence of your captain you still felt unfulfilled. Buggy always made sure he had time to meet your needs, wether that be a hard fucking before he left for his duties or leaving his very own cock detached and in your bed so you could feel him inside you when he wasn’t available.

But this time, he had left you with nothing. You craved the soft yet playful touch of your older lover. Buggy was a sensitive man and took his time to learn the intricacies of your body and soul after you became intimate partners. You quickly fell in love. You were each other’s perfect compliments. He made you crazy and you brought him back to earth. Sometimes you had to reign him in… but tonight you were letting your crazy slip through. You missed him so much, you missed pleasing him and being his good little girl…

*WOOSH*

The doors to the meeting chamber were thrown open. You sit up on your elbows and look behind you. Mihawk and Crocodile were leaving the room and the doors were closing behind them. Richie scampered off.

“Oh I see the clown’s plaything is still sniffing around.” Crocodile remarks as he looks at you. “Don’t worry, little girl, your captain’s in his office safe and sound. We though we’d continue our negotiations tomorrow.”

Your brow furrows and your eyes darken.

“Plaything? I am his wife.” You stand up and square your shoulders.

Mihawk chuckles.

“A clown’s wife? A pirate’s wife? I’m not sure which is more noble.” Mihawk gives you a once over with his eyes before laughing again.

Fire burned in your chest.

“Get out.” You spat at them. You turned tail and threw open the doors to the meeting chamber and let them close behind you. You found your blue haired husband pouring over paperwork at his desk.

“Buggy…” You begin as you stride towards him.

“Well if it isn’t my shooting star.” Buggy looks up from his work and smiles at you. You can tell he’s recently taken a blow to the eye. His smile has a crack to it… not the 1000 megawatt spotlight you were used to.

“I can’t stand them.” You huff out.

“Doll face…” Buggy coos at you as you approach him in his chair. He swivels it to face you. “I know you do. They aren’t my favorite either, but it’s what we gotta do right now.”

You sigh. You straddle yourself over Buggy and nuzzle your face into his neck, pushing his soft blue hair out of the way with your nose. You kiss the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He responds by taking the back of your head in a gloved hand and rakes through your scalp gently. He moves his other hand to grip your hip.

“And what about me, Bugs? Your girl?” You pull back and look into his green eyes. He continues to stroke the back of your head.

“What about you then, sweet cheeks? You’re my wife, my lady, my center attraction! I do all of this so we can conquer the seas together!”

“But those fucking assholes…” You retort while turning your head to the side to escape his comment. You clench your fists. Buggy uses both of his hands to grab your face and turns it to look at him in the eye.

“What do you want me to do, huh? You think I don’t care about you? What do you want me to do, push you out there and fuck you in front of them? You’re my life, y/n, how many times do I have to get that through your head?” Buggy pleads with you, but he was clearly frustrated.

“I… I just don’t know Bugs… are we cut out for this?” You question him. You see the sparkle in his eyes fade out, replaced with a burning fire.

“Y/n…” Buggy lets go of your face, his lips quirking up into a smile. “I am an Emperor of the Sea… and you are my wife… an Empress… if you will…” One of Buggy’s hands cups your cheek while the other cups your ass on his lap. “You will spend no time doubting your authority.”

Buggy quickly closes the distance between your lips and engages you in a heated kiss. You groan at the feeling of finally having your lover’s mouth on your skin again. You instinctively grind your hips down onto Buggy’s growing bulge.

“My little minx, how long have you been waiting for me? It was just one meeting, doll…” Buggy chuckled as he felt your cunt soak his pants, you having chosen to go without panties under your skirt. “You can’t possibly be this needy…” Buggy says as he lifts your hips to slide his fingers through your wetness. You hum out in satisfaction.

“I’m always like this for you, captain.” You buck your hips into his hand to try and gain more contact on your sensitive bits.

“Since you’re already so wet… bend over that chair for me.” Buggy punctuates his order with a swift smack to your ass cheek. You happily hop up and shed your clothes before you bend yourself over the leather arm chair in the meeting room. You grab a pillow to rest your arms and head on as you wiggle your naked ass towards your captain.

“Oh doll face, you’re gonna get it so good…” Buggy strides towards you, unbuckles his pants and shoves them down to his knees. You feel his warm presence behind you and gasp at the sensation of his thick uncut tip pushing through your pussy folds. It comes up to tap at your clit a few times and you whine. Buggy giggles menacingly before slamming his cock into your dripping hole from behind in a single, unforgiving thrust.

“Ah!” You shriek out.

Buggy hammers into you at a wild pace, not giving you a moment to adjust. Your legs completely give out and your whole body weight falls forward. You kick your heels up as Buggy manhandles your smaller frame. You couldn’t control your body anymore as you fist the decorative pillows on the chair you were currently bent over. You moaned and squealed as your powerful husband grabbed onto your colorful pigtails and pulled on them, to guide you back onto his cock.

*WOOSH*

“Clown, we need you to sign a few more papers before we leave.” The doors to the grand meeting hall swing open and Mihawk and Crocodile stride back in. Immediately the duo pauses and looks at your sweaty, fucked-out body poised over the armchair. Crocodile and Mihawk look at each other and then again at you.

“Gentlemen if you haven’t noticed, my wife needed some extra attention today. My apologies, but she needs some tending to.” Buggy slows his thrusts, but not completely stopping them, making you whine out in need. After being given no response, Buggy resumes his relentless pace inside of you, completely ignoring the two men who had just entered the office.

Crocodile chortles. He comes around to face you. He raises his hook and brushes your sweaty bangs out of your face. The cool metal provides you a tingling sensation.

“So you really are crazy for the clown, aren’t you?” Crocodile laughs and watches you try to grind yourself back onto your lover in an attempt to feel more of him.

In your dick-drunk state you nod your head rapidly, throwing your ass back. "Yes! Yes I love him! Fuck, so good!" You moan out.

“Crocodile…” You vaguely hear Mihawks velvet voice ring through one of your ears. “I’d be willing to leave our negotiations the way they stand if our colleague can prove himself worthy.” You could hear the mischief in his voice.

“So you’d like to see the little circus girl cum? I think that might be fun to see… so, sure, why not?” Crocodile grins. Crocodile lifts your head with his hook to look at him. Buggy was still thrusting in and out of your sopping hole from behind. You moan as you feel Buggy graze your sweet spot. “Oh he makes you feel good, huh, little thing?” Crocodile smirks down at you.

You moan in response.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck my captain makes me feel so good!” You grin lazily and push your hips back even harder against Buggy’s . “Oh!” You gasp.

“Mihawk, come look. I think she’s really about to cum, can you believe it?” Crocodiile beckons his cohort over.

“Of course she is, she’s my baby! Show the boys what you can do!” Buggy smiles wildly and detaches one of his hands to rub at your clit, egging on your release. He presses his other hand down on your stomach. “There it is! Come on baby!” Buggy gives one last thrust inside of you before finishing which triggers your orgasm. You scream as you spray out your pleasure juices all over the office.

Buggy was allowing the final spurts of his climax to flow into your walls as he pulled out roughly.

“Now since you have your proof, I’ll be seeing you next week. The deal is settled.” Buggy went back into business mode as he tucked himself back into his pants. He scooped up your nude, lifeless form and seated you on his lap at his desk. “My wife needs some rest, so if you’ll excuse us.” Buggy gestures for the *debatably* more powerful men to leave the room.

Crocodile and Mihawk look at each other before they silently exit the office, Buggy, hopeful he was done with them for a few days. You stayed in Buggy’s arms for at least 30 minutes as he hummed you silly circus tunes.

“That’ll buy us a week’s peace. Let’s head to bed, my sweet doll.” Buggy picked you up to carry you back to his captain’s quarters. You nodded your head and let the warm feeling of your husbands arms overtake you.

126 notes · View notes

vioartemis · 2 years ago

Text

One last time

(Tara Carpenter x fem! Bridger! reader)

Summary: Amber and Richie planned on framing Sam and you for the 2022 massacre, as you were both daughters of past Ghostfaces. Only thing; the fans never get a happy end. Neither do you. Request is here :)) a/n: This is pretty short I'm sorry I couldn't come up with anything else 😭 Warnings: blood, injuries, death (reader), angst (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

“Imagine the headlines tomorrow: ‘Billy Loomis’ daughter went mad and killed her friends with the help of her accomplice, Roman Bridger’s daughter! The two wanted to pursue the legacy of their fathers.’ Now that’s what we want to see!” Amber said, holding a knife to your throat

Your little group was gathered in the kitchen of her house after Richie and her tried to kill you and exposed their plan.

“What are you talking about? Roman died in 2000, he doesn’t have a daughter.” Sidney said

“No one here is his daughter!” Tara yelled

Richie turned to you with a smirk on his face.

“Oh, you didn’t tell her did you? I thought you would’ve, when Sam confessed being Billy’s daughter”

All eyes were on you.

“Fuck you.” you spat at him

“Y/n…? He’s wrong right…? You’re not…” you gave Tara a guilty look “Oh my god… why didn’t you tell me…?”

“Because… because I didn’t want to lose you… I was scared you would leave me if you knew…!”

“How am I supposed to trust you…? You lied to me for more than two years! Two fucking years Y/n! How can I know you’re telling the truth? Maybe you’re with them. Maybe-“

“Don’t say that…” you started to tear up “Please don’t say that…”

She looked away from you, like she couldn't bear to see you again. That broke your heart.

Lying to your own girlfriend for two years hurt you too. You wanted to tell her, you tried multiple times. But every time the words got stuck in your throat.

“Ow sorry, I think we messed up your relationship…” Amber smirked at you

You didn’t think about her knife still on your throat and punched her in the face. No one saw it coming.

Sidney took this opportunity to take a kitchen knife and attacked Richie, too focused on you to defend himself.

Everyone started fighting everyone. It was a messy fight; everyone was a little confused by your sudden punch at Amber.

You tried to protect Tara from the fights, pushing her away when Richie tried to stab her. They made her question your relationship? Fine. You would make them pay for that. But the most important thing was keeping her safe.

At one moment, you got thrown against the counter. You got up quickly, but Amber was now ready to shoot you. When she pulled the trigger, Tara screamed.

“Aw come on, I’m like two meters away how can you miss such an easy shot?” you smirked at the killer

“Oh you…”

She was ready to try again, but Sidney slammed the hand sanitizer on her head, making her drop the gun.

Immediately you tried to take it, but Gale looked at you with suspicious eyes.

“Right, you don’t trust me”

You backed up, letting her take the gun.

Amber tried to explain herself and convince Gale not to shoot her, but she did it anyway. The girl fell on the stove and lit up.

“Holly shit…” you let out as she burned and fell on the floor

A scream was heard, coming from the hall. Everyone got out of the kitchen and ran to the hall, ready to help.

On your way there, you grabbed Sidney’s gun that slid into a corner earlier. Just in case.

When you arrived, Sam was standing in front of Richie’s dead body, covered in blood. She didn’t need help after all.

“Careful, they always come back” Gale said

Sam took the gun from her and shot Richie in the head.

You all sighed in relief, until you heard a scream behind you. Amber was still alive and was running toward you knife in hand.

Your body reacted before your brain could process what was happening. You shot her in the head before she could hurt anyone else.

“Y/n…” Tara said, next to you

“I know, I took the gun. I’m sorry, here” you drop it “I’m not with them I-“

“No you’re bleeding!”

“Hm?” you looked down. There was blood on your jeans. “Oh… yeah… I forgot about that…”

You were too focused on Tara’s well being you completely forgot about your own wounds. Multiple wounds.

You placed a hand on your stomach. It came back stained with blood. Your black shirt made it difficult to see you were bleeding.

All of a sudden, you collapsed on the floor, all your strength leaving you.

“Shit…” you groaned as the pain grew

Tara knelt beside you, concern written on her face. She lifted your shirt up to see where your were hurt. Three stab wounds and one bullet hole.

“When did you-“

The fight flashed before her eyes. When Richie was about to stab her you protected her. Three times. Then Amber tired to shoot you.

“You said she missed…!”

“Maybe I lied…”

You started coughing, blood coming out of your chest and mouth. Your girlfriend tried to stop the bleeding, applying pressure on your wounds.

"Sam call an ambulance!" she yelled at her sister before turning back to you "Y/n I'm sorry I told you that earlier... I didn't mean it I swear..."

"I know, I know..." you smiled weakly, putting a hand on her cheek and wiping her tears gently "It's okay my love... please don't cry... I want to see your smile one last time..."

"W-what do you mean 'one last time'...?"

"You can't save me Tara..."

"No no no no no..."

"C'mon... smile for me, my pretty girl..."

She held back her tears and cracked a weak smile.

"I love you so much..." you whispered, still smilling

"I love you too..."

You closed your eyes for a second, the light hurting you.

"Y/n...?" your arm fell slowly "Hey..." she shook you slightly "Baby please... Y/n...! Please wake up...! Don't leave me..."

She wanted to scream. You couldn't die. Not like that. Not now. You still had so many things to do...

"What about these holidays we talked about...? The amusement park...? The dates on the beach...? The sunsets you said we'd see together...? Y/n please..."

She couldn't admit it. Even months after. She still hoped you would come at her door one day, hug her, kiss her, take her hand and take her with you to some cool place you promised her to go.

But you never came.

Sometimes she dreamt about you. Waking up without you next to her was always heartbreaking. She kept the clothes you forgot in her closet. At first they still smelt like you. Not anymore.

It was like you really disappeared. Every trace of your presence slowly vanished.

Not the pictures though. Oh how much she cried looking at your selfies together, holding your favorite necklace tight in her hand. The one she gave you on your first anniversary. The one you never took off.

Everyone told her to move on, to see someone if she needed help. But she didn't need help. She needed you.

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x fem reader #scream #scream 5

520 notes · View notes

jo-harrington · 2 years ago

Text

Freaky Friday - A Stranger Things Story (Part 3)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Word Count: 12.9k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, Eddie and Steve (Enemies to Friends)

Summary: Eddie thinks that Steve has everything in life handed to him on a silver platter (including his new girlfriend who Eddie has a crush on). And Steve just can't believe that the kids look up to Eddie the Freak, or that he lives his life without giving a single fuck.

Must be nice. But you know what they say, the grass is always greener.

Warnings/Themes: AU with no Upside Down. Angst, body swapping, dark magic/alchemy, unrequited love, mutual pining, fatphobia (if you squint?), Babysitter Steve, unresolved feelings, manipulation/deception, Things That Require Communication (Too Bad There Isn't Any), Reader gets a nickname (Honey), no Y/N if I can help it, Masturbation, Fantasies/Wet Dreams, To Quote JQ "There Do Be Willies"

Note: Guys...ok I tried I really did. First off once again thanks to @ghost-proofbaby, @big-ope-vibes and @trashmouth-richie for being my sounding boards for some things in this chapter. And then because they have been SO amazing with their writing and their big-brainedness, this chapter is dedicated to @myosotisa and @blue-mossbird.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

Before Eddie could react at all to Steve's appearance, Steve had launched himself off the bed, crossed the room, and pinned Eddie against the wall with an arm across his neck. The pressure was uncomfortable, but not enough to keep him from breathing or talking.

"How did you get in here?" Eddie questioned.

"It's my fucking house, Freak," Steve spat. "I know where the spare key is. Now, what the fuck did you do to me? To us. How the fuck did you do this?"

"Listen pal," Eddie grunted, trying to shove Steve off of him. Eddie wondered, fleetingly as he stared into his own rage-filled eyes, if he was actually that strong, or if it was just because Steve had better control of his strength. "I don't know what you think I could have done, but I was just as surprised as I'm sure you were when I woke up here this morning. In your fucking body."

"That's bullshit. You did this," Steve insisted. "You...did some satanic ritual—"

"Are you stupid? It's all a joke man," Eddie began. "I don't worship Satan, Hellfire's not a cult."

"Fuck you, you and your devil horns and latin chants during lunc—"

"I just played that shit up so my friends don't get beaten up by meathead jocks like you."

Fed up with being pushed around and accused Eddie went slack against the wall for a second, causing Steve's footing to falter, and with that he threw his whole weight against Steve, causing him to tumble back onto the floor. Eddie knelt over him, gritting his teeth, and fisted the front of his shirt.

"You think if I had some kind of say in my life, some kind of power to change it, I would still be stuck in a shithole like Hawkins?" Eddie sneered. "Stuck in that trailer, stuck being a student at Hawkins high for another day?"

"Except you're not stuck anymore," Steve retorted. "I am."

"Y-you think I would want to be stuck like this instead?" Eddie huffed. "King fucking Steve Harrington. Who has it all handed to him. What kind of life is that?"

"You didn't seem too miserable a few seconds ago," Steve pointed out.

Eddie let go of Steve and he dropped slightly, head bouncing slightly off the plush area rug.

Fucking Harrington can't even have hard enough floors to hurt.

Eddie stood to his full height and looked around the bedroom again—at Steve's desk and his lovingly filled-out calendar, at the plush bed, at the window that overlooked a swimming pool for fuck's sake—and wondered how fair it was that Steve could have anything he ever wanted, but never did.

What would you like me to say to that Steve? That you're right? That I would want your life? That you're an idiot and you don't deserve any of this? That I do instead?

"Where were you just now anyway?" Steve continued as he watched Eddie cross over to the window. "Take my car for a joyride or something? While I'm driving around your rusty old shitbox? Or...or—"

"Took your girl out for a date," Eddie interrupted and glanced back at Steve over his shoulder. "Or did you forget about her?"

"My gir—" Steve paused. "Do you mean...You took her out on our date?"

"I went through the motions today," Eddie explained. "Wake up in someone else's body, go to work at their job, take their girlfriend on the date they had planned."

"For someone who seems to have no idea how this happened," Steve grunted as he pushed himself off the floor. "You seem to know how to handle a situation like this pretty perfectly."

"How do you think I should have handled it? Driving around town screaming about spells and magic?"

Steve had the sense to look ashamed for a minute and Eddie smirked.

"What did you do today then, eh 'Eddie?'"

"I...I went to school," Steve started.

"Sounds like going through the motions to me."

"I went to find Henderson!"

"Wait a minute," Eddie turned to face Steve fully. "You told Henderson?"

"Yeah," Steve shrugged. "What was I supposed to do? He's part of your little band of misfits. Figured he might know some...counter spell and get me back in my body."

Eddie groaned and put his face in his hands.

Great, Dustin was going to actually think Eddie was the devil now.

"Did you tell anyone?" Steve asked dumbly.

"No because I'm not an absolute idiot," Eddie exclaimed, throwing his hands out. "Fuck, no wonder Buckley calls you a dingus."

"Well lah-di-dah, I'm sorry I don't have the mystical body switching handbook memorized like you do" Steve snarked and fell onto the bed, grabbing a pillow to hug to his body for comfort. "What would that even look like? A...a...pentagram with 'shut the fuck up' written in the middle in latin or something?"

Eddie froze.

A mystical body switching handbook.

A pentagram.

Or maybe a sigil?

"God, I can't even believe you went on my date for me. Did you even...how did you know I had reservations at the Club? Wait, is that what you wore? Jesus Ch—”

"Shut up!" Eddie interrupted. "Go back, what did you just say?"

"Uh....The Club?" Steve asked. "The...Country Club up in Marion? My dad plays golf there."

"No before that, you said—" Eddie stopped. "Wait, you were gonna take her for dinner at the Golf Club? Kind of a douche move there, Harrington. Even for you."

"Well where did you take her then?"

"Doesn't matter," Eddie dismissed, smugly filing away the fact that his idea for a date was better than Steve's. Country Club. "You said...a pentagram."

"Yeah? What about it?" Steve asked. When Eddie hesitated to answer, Steve grew concerned. "Please don't tell me you drew a pentagram and asked for...I don't know, better hair or something and now we're stuck like this."

Eddie ignored the dig at his hair.

"Not...exactly."

"Oh!" Mrs. Henderson looked surprised when she opened the door to find both "Steve" and "Eddie" on her doorstep. "What a surprise!"

"Hey, Mrs. H," "Steve" greeted with a smile, causing "Eddie" to roll his eyes. "Is Dustin here?"

"He is. With Will and Lucas. Since someone decided to cancel Hellfire Club," she glared at "Eddie" good-naturedly. "I can go get him for you; come on in. Did you boys have dinner? You hungry? I have plenty of leftover tater tot casserole."

"No thank you," they answered in tandem and crossed through into the living room and took a seat on the couch.

As she made her way back towards Dustin's room, the boys started to bicker.

"Why would you cancel Hellfire? I never cancel. Even when I'm sick."

"I’m sorry was this not a pressing matter? Your little club can’t skip one week?”

Mews jumped up and settled in "Eddie's" lap and Steve froze as she began purring.

Mews was never really a fan of Steve's to begin with, the few times Steve had come over to spend time with Dustin and the kids. It was mutual indifference, actually. She mostly stayed cuddled up in Mrs. Henderson's arms, but when she wasn't they gave one another distance. Steve had no interest in getting near the cat, and the cat had no interest in getting near Steve.

So for her to be comfortable and purring in "Eddie's" lap...it made Steve a little nervous. What if she bit him or clawed him or—

"Well, aren't you gonna give her pets Harrington?" Eddie reached over and started scratching between her ears.

"Uh...I'm not an animal person," Steve explained and Eddie gave him a dull look. "What if it scratches me?"

"Are you kidding?" Eddie scoffed. "First, she's literally the cuddliest cat in the world. Second, she's a she, not an it. And third, if she scratches you, technically she'd scratch me and I've already been scratched several times when I fed the baby raccoons at Forest Hills."

"The—Why are you feeding raccoons?" Steve exclaimed. "They're wild animals, they're feral."

"They're babies, they shouldn't be eating trash. Which reminds me, as long as we're stuck like this, you need to leave a can or two of tuna out for the stray cats once in a while."

Steve watched Eddie for a moment, waiting for the laughter to start or a punchline to come out of his mouth. And it never did.

"What is wrong with yo—"

"Eddie! Steve!" the boys jumped at Dustin and his mother's appearance. Dustin had wide eyes and a strained smile. "What a surprise! Eddie, how was detention?"

Eddie turned back to look at Steve with raised eyebrows and a manic grin.

"Detention?" Eddie asked. "When did this happen?"

"I was late to class. You know, like I am every day." Steve answered, taking a cheap dig at Eddie for putting him on the spot.

"Anyway!" Dustin began loudly. "Why don't you guys come on back. And we can discuss that surprise campaign for Mike's birthday."

Eddie picked Mews off Steve's lap and handed her back to Mrs. Henderson with another last little chin scratch, and then he and Steve followed Dustin back to his room where, indeed, Lucas and Will were waiting.

"Alright dweebs, get lost," Steve announced.

"No way, we're not leaving until we figure this whole body switching thing out," Lucas scoffed.

"You told them too?" Eddie turned to Steve and Steve held his hands up defensively.

"No," Dustin interjected. "I did. I needed Will the Wise's brain and Sinclair the Soldier's tenacity if I was gonna solve this."

"What about Wheeler?" Eddie asked.

The boys sheepishly looked at one another.

"Mike's not exactly the best at keeping secrets," Will began hesitantly. "And if Nancy found out...well..."

"And we do actually need to come up with some kind of surprise for his birthday," Lucas continued. "A quest to reverse a curse on two knights sounds pretty epic."

They all looked to Eddie for his input.

"Could be interesting," Eddie hummed and tilted his head back and forth in contemplation. "I might be inclined to give it a DM stamp of approval if we can actually figure this thing out."

The kids all cheered and started talking over one another, saying that they went to the Hawkins Public Library after school since Hellfire was canceled. They gathered several fantasy books and a folklore book, and when they asked about occultism at the reference desk, there was one book that had recently been checked out.

"Funny you should mention that," Steve piped up and pulled the faded red book out from where it was tucked into Eddie's jacket. "Eddie and I nearly tore apart his trailer trying to find it.

And they had.

After Eddie had dropped the news that he, indeed, might have been the cause of this switch—unintentionally—he and Steve headed to Forest Hills to find the book.

Steve honestly felt a little vindicated that it actually was Eddie who had done this to the two of them, but...he admitted that he might have let all of the mania about Eddie and Hellfire Club fuel his anger.

But as he stood off to the side and watched the boys flip through the pages with Eddie as Eddie regaled them with his campaign ideas and the sigil that had caught his eye, Steve couldn't help but feel that bitter vile jealousy begin to bubble up again.

How long ago was it that he was taking them to the junkyard to ride their bikes and find scraps and bits and pieces for them to use for their...LORPing...LARPing...

And it was fun, yeah, watching the little idiots get excited over hunks of discarded pipes they could use as staffs, and bent and dented garbage can lids they could use as shields.

But he had done all of those things in an effort to make Nancy see he was a good guy, and he had lost her. And he had kept doing those things because the kids were actually fun and like the younger siblings he had always wanted...and now they were arguing about the differences between Latin and Ancient Mycenaean with Eddie.

He just couldn't keep up.

So he took the route he always knew would keep him and his feelings safe: he lashed out.

"Alright, so," he put his hands on his hips." What's the verdict, how soon can we switch back? I don't want to be stuck smelling like weed for the rest of my life. Do you even wash your clothes, Munson?"

All four boys—well, 3 boys and one man—stared at Steve with wide, almost hurting eyes. And Steve realized...

Shit.

...he hadn't made fun of someone like that in front of the kids that way in a long time.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't," he sighed and collapsed into Dustin's desk chair. "It's just been a really long day guys. It isn't easy being Eddie."

"Oh?" Eddie scoffed. "You just realizing that now Harrington? After one day of being me? You have it so fucking easy that it takes one day of...what? Being pushed around or called a freak or driving an old van that is not a rusty old shitbox, by the way. One day without your big house and your notes from your mommy and your neatly pressed clothes and your cute girlfriend doting on you?"

"And what do you know about my life?" Steve argued. "You don't know half of the shit that I go through! And you don't even care. You go around without a care in the world. Everyone you think is your friend is either afraid of you or looking for your approval. I heard from Janie Miller that you offered to give her free weed one time if she flashed you her boobs. You don't care who you're hurting or insulting or shitting on unless it's fun for you."

It was a miracle Mrs. Henderson didn't come to see what the ruckus was about because it just went on. Enough that they started talking over one another. One dig after another, one way their lives were seemingly better or seemingly worse.

The kids tried to interrupt them but they just kept going.

And Steve's breathing got heavy and his throat got tight, his eyes stung with unshed tears as he thought about...

The way everyone left him. The way he was actually alone. The way his dad couldn't see how hard he sought his approval. The way his mom only did nice things for him anymore was because he knew her secrets. The way his high school friends only liked him because of his popularity. The way that Nancy Wheeler never actually liked him at all, just liked the way he made her feel. The way that the kids left him behind for the next cool older brother kind of guy that came along. The way he was sure even Robin only half-tolerated him.

And the more that he thought those thoughts, the more...the more Eddie's body felt like his. The more he could feel every hair follicle on his head, the way every breath rattled his chest a little bit, the way his ears rang a little bit constantly from the loud music he always blasted in his van.

It got to be so much that it was scary.

But he and Eddie kept on arguing, until someone had the good sense to stop them.

"SHUT UP!" Will yelled and everything went silent. The two older boys stared at Will and he shrunk a little bit under their gaze. "I, uh, I think I figured out what happened."

"Well?" Steve snarked.

"...well I don't know for sure..." Will replied hesitantly. "I don't take Latin with Lucas and Dustin. B-but this right here. Alterius Oculos. Another's eyes?"

He pointed to the inscription on the page Eddie had shown them, right above the sigil.

“Ok what about ‘another’s eyes?’” Eddie asked.

“You need to…see through another’s eyes maybe.” Lucas offered. “Not literally. Figuratively. Empathize with them? Ms. Kelly told me about that a few weeks ago. Put yourself in someone else’s shoes.”

“Except, it’s actually literal,” Dustin snapped his fingers. “Because you two are actually seeing through one another’s eyes and wearing each other’s shoes.”

“So I drew the sigil, went to bed and we switched bodies to see through each other’s eyes and…understand each other better?” Eddie huffed. “I wasn’t even thinking of Harrington when I drew it!”

“What were you thinking of?” Lucas questioned.

Eddie quietly picked at his fingernails, and Steve looked down at his own hands—at Eddie’s actual hands—and saw the ripped up skin and closely trimmed nails. Eddie was a nail biter.

Eddie Munson was a nail biter and he was nervous and he was…

“I was thinking that…nothing good ever happened to me. That…I needed to have a reality check or something,” Eddie shrugged.

…Eddie was a loser. He didn’t have it all figured out. He struggled with things…beyond Steve’s understanding. Even because of Steve sometimes.

“Hey, uh,” Steve cut in. “It’s not like I did anything to help things last night.”

“What do you mean?” Will asked.

“I, uh, might have charged you extra for your movie rental just to get you out of my hair for a while.”

“I knew it!” Eddie exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Steve. “I knew you were pulling that shit on purpose.”

“Can you fucking blame me, have you ever met yourself?” Steve asked.

“Well, I certainly can say I have now,” Eddie grumbled. “So how do we fix this? How do we switch back?”

The younger boys all shared another nervous look.

“I guess…” Will began. “Do more things to understand each other. Just…do whatever the other would do…live each other’s lives.”

“For how long? Forever?” Steve scoffed.

“Lucas and I can translate the rest of this page,” Dustin offered.

“I’m sorry, Lucas and who?” Lucas asked. “You’re barely passing Latin.”

“Ok Lucas can translate the page while Will and I can do my best to help ‘Eddie’ navigate Hellfire Club.” Dustin held his hands out as though he was weighing his options. “And ‘Steve’ can just…not fuck up real Steve’s life. Or real Eddie’s life for that matter!”

“Can’t fuck up something that’s at Rock Bottom,” Steve grumbled.

“And maybe you two could work on understanding each other in the mean time?” Lucas asked.

Steve and Eddie stared at one another in a way that felt, to Steve at least, like a challenge. They nodded and Steve felt the unspoken “let the best man win” ring through the air.

Otherwise they were both gonna lose.

Eddie threw his head back with laughter.

"Swing and a miss," he called as you swung the putter at the little purple golf ball, over and over, without actually hitting it. "Honey, are you just letting me win? There's no way you can be so bad at this."

"We can't all be professional mini golfers," you laughed at him.

"Excuse me, that is 'mini golf champion,'" Eddie boasted. "They have my face in the Hall of Fame."

"Oh I didn't know I was in the presence of a celebrity," you bowed to him. "Maybe you could take some pity on a poor peasant and help me get this shot please."

"I supposed I could give you some pointers," he sighed dramatically and sidled up behind you. He wrapped his arms comfortably around you and his hands found yours on the putter. When he tried to get your body into position to make the shot, you pressed yourself back against him and rested your head on his shoulder a bit. "Hmmm, what is this funny business, honey? Trying to distract me?"

You wiggled your shoulders and relaxed, leaning your body further into his, emphasizing the softness of you against the hardness of him.

And it was only getting harder by the second.

"Maybe I'm trying to win?" you turned your head to look at him, breath fanning against his jaw.

"Considering I've made par on every hole so far—"

"I'm not talking about golf anymore Eddie," you muttered, shaking your hands out from below his on the putter so you could turn within his embrace and cup his face softly...reverently. "I...you know I've always had a huge crush on you."

"Honey, why do you have to tell me such sweet things?" Eddie asked. "It's our first date, I'm trying to be a gentleman. We're in public."

"And if we weren't in public?" You tilted your face closer to his, lips practically brushing against his. "Would you be a gentleman then?"

"Do you want me to be?" he asked breathlessly.

He dropped the putter and grabbed at your waist as he crushed his mouth to yours. It was a hungry sort of kiss, like he was a man starved. And when the joyous moan that came from you was as sweet as honey, Eddie resolved that you were, indeed, going to give him a sweet tooth.

Eddie's hands slid easily across the smooth surface of your shiny taffeta dress as he pulled you closer, causing it to rustle as it crinkled under his touch. It got harder to think as he savored your softness but he dreamed of what it would be like to be surrounded by all of you. To be consumed, and suffocated, and smothered by you.

He could have it...he could have you...

You pulled away momentarily and stared up into his eyes, yours glassy with want and adoration, something that he only ever hoped you would look at him with.

"Do you wanna answer the phone?" you muttered.

"W-what?"

"Steven are you up?" There was a knock on the bedroom door and Eddie woke with a start. He groggily looked around the room, at the plaid wallpaper and the tidy belongings.

Damn. The thing that he hoped was a dream was real, and the thing he hoped was real was only a dream.

"There's someone calling for you. Did you wanna answer?" Mrs. Harrington said through the door.

"Y-yeah, uh," Eddie called out and cleared his throat. "M-mom." The word was unfamiliar on his tongue, in his brain. Like a language that hadn't been practiced in quite some time.

He hoped, at the very least, Steve didn't call her "mommy."

He had been well on his way to an early-riser if he hadn't been woken up, but nothing was a bigger boner-killer than thinking of Mrs. Harrington as "mommy."

"Alright, come downstairs when you're ready; I'm making breakfast too. Your favorite."

Eddie pushed himself out of Steve's bed for the fifth day in a row. Threw on some of Steve's clothes for the fifth day in a row.

After the discussion with the kids on Friday night, he and Steve had agreed to go through the motions, make the best of living one-another's lives and actually put in the effort. Eddie told him about the things he did to make things easier around the trailer since Wayne worked nights--the laundry, grocery shopping, bringing home a little extra money by dealing—and Steve told Eddie the things he did—driving Robin to school, working at Family Video, his "health routines."

Although, Eddie would hesitate to call shaving his chest and styling his hair something someone did for their health.

He was also hesitant to maintain Steve's morning run, considering the fact that he hated running, but found that it was easier in Steve's athletic body than in his garbage bag one—Steve's words, not his.

They also set one non-negotiable thing each, that the other must do no matter what.

For Eddie, that was Corroded Coffin and their Tuesday gigs, like the one they had that night.

He had spent the weekend coming up with a plan for them to still play, even with Steve in his body and fully unable to play the guitar. Steve had even offered to learn some easy guitar riffs or chords, but Eddie had standards to keep. It would be his luck that on the night Steve was in his body putzing around that some....record label exec would walk into the Hideout. He wasn't gonna let that fly.

So they figured out that "Steve" would be spending some time with "Eddie" at Dustin's request so they could "reconcile their differences." And in an effort to learn more about "Eddie," he would go to Corroded Coffin's shows.

Since the "stage lights" were so bright and blinding anyway, no one would know that he slipped into the supply closet where his Fender would be plugged into the equipment, while Steve faked playing an unfortunately dead Sweetheart on stage. There was more to the performance than just focusing on the music...so he'd just have to hope that none of the guys gave Steve any cues that he couldn't see.

The singing was an easy fix. Jeff was working on his confidence; Eddie would just let him be the frontman tonight. No need to worry about Steve knowing any of the songs, let alone their lyrics.

He was an optimist when it came to music though. This would work.

For Steve, it was that Eddie did not talk to his parents outside of any quick, cordial conversations. And Eddie wasn't one to pry—he had his fair share of parental issues—it just seemed weird that the mention of Ma and Pa Harrington would cause Golden Boy Stevie to choke up the way he did.

Thankfully for Eddie, the Harrington's had vibrant social lives. Thomas Harrington worked late at the car dealership and then went out for dinner and drinks with his salesmen most nights Monday through Saturday. And on Sunday he got his clubs out of the hall closet and went to the Country Club to play with his other businessman friends for most of the day. Mary Harrington was just...unexplainably gone from the house for most of the day, most days. Eddie couldn't even explain when she was home to do all of the things she seemed to do around the house.

"Steve" had the day off of work yesterday so he was home for most of the day, and short of the few hours he had left the house to take you out on another date, Mary hadn't been home at all. Miraculously, when he returned at the end of the night, his hamper was empty, his bed had been made, his new schedule was written in his calendar, and his lunch was ready in the fridge for the following day.

Eddie wondered why everyone thought he was capable of dark magic when, clearly, Mary Harrington was the town's resident witch.

This morning was the first one that he had even heard her voice, let alone be the first time he would see her as he resided in Steve’s body.

Eddie crept down the stairs and into the hall, peering around to see if Mrs. Harrington was anywhere nearby then approached the little hall table where the phone was sitting off the hook.

"Good morning, this is Steve Harrington," he greeted as he pressed the receiver to his ear. "Fine purveyor of rental videos, microwave popcorn, and movie theater candy. How can I help you?" There was giggling on the other end of the line and he grinned.

"Please don't tell me that's how you answer the phone at Family Video?" you said, instead of a "hello."

"I will now," he promised.

"No!"

"You'll just have to call more often and stop people from actually having to hear it." His smile grew at your skeptical uh huh and he continued. "What's going on this morning, honey. I thought you had class."

He could envision you leaning against a payphone, twirling a finger through a lock of your hair.

"I have a few minutes," you explained. "But I just wanted to call and say I had a really good time last night."

He had taken you to the drive in to see a double feature—House on Haunted Hill and The Bat; Eddie knew you loved Vincent Price but "Steve" just had incredibly luck—but most of the night was spent talking and holding hands and at the end of the night, he got to kiss you again.

Eddie felt triumphant once again, knowing deep down that you would like the dates he had planned over anything Steve could have come up with.

Part of the discussion with Steve about how to go about each other's lives also included you. Eddie had hesitated and asked how Steve felt that someone else was dating his girlfriend and Steve had just shrugged.

"She's a good one, I don't wanna let her get away," Steve shrugged. "You'll just have to keep her warm for me."

"Is that really the best way to build a relationship?" Eddie asked. "Lies? Tricks?"

"She doesn't have to know you're not me," Steve explained. "Just...take it easy, don't do any of the good stuff until we switch back. You wanna know some of my favorite dating spots?"

So Eddie decided...if he happened to be stuck in Steve's body forever he could have you. And if he ever made it back to his body...well...Steve wasn't exactly as smooth as people thought he was. If he couldn't keep up the loverboy act Eddie had started, you would get fed up and dump him.

And Eddie would be right there to pick up the pieces.

"Oh yeah?" Eddie laughed. "Well I'm glad. I did too. What was your favorite part?"

"Uhhh...oh! That part when you—"

The two of you chatted for a few minutes, talking and laughing easily, before you told him you had to get to class. He needed to get going too, so he could drive Robin to school.

His chest ached a little when he hung up the phone.

"It's good to see you smiling, Stevie," came a voice from over his shoulder. He jumped, seeing Mary leaning against the threshold to the living room.

"Uh, good morning," Eddie greets her.

"Were you hungry? Figured we could have a little chat over breakfast," she smiled an obviously strained smile.

Shit, how did she know? What did she know?

"I actually have to get going," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder then put his hands in his pockets. "Take Robin to school...get to work, open the shop."

"Let me get your lunch then!" Her eyes crinkled at the corners and she dashed away. Eddie wondered if he could make an escape before she came back, but before long she was pressing the brown paper bag into his hand. "I put your allowance in there too. Remember Dad can't find out about it, Steve. Please...dad can't find out. Please."

"Oh...kay," Eddie frowned. Was that the reason Steve didn't want Eddie talking to his parents? Because his dad cut him off but his mom was giving him money instead? Well, Eddie could keep a secret, and enjoy the benefits of some extra pocket money. "Sure. Mom. Whatever you say. I've gotta go."

"You have plans tonight?" she asked. "I can leave dinner for you."

"Nah, I'll probably be home late," Eddie explained. "Going out with friends."

Mary's face fell into a neutral expression, then she rolled her eyes and sighed. It was night and day from how it was just moments before, and it was incredibly uncomfortable for Eddie.

"You can't do this forever Steven," she shook her head. "Keep me at arms length. I'm your mother. I'm trying."

"I don't...I'm sorry mom. I've gotta go."

Eddie scooped Steve's keys out of the little dish on the table and headed towards the front door.

"I'm trying, Steven," Mary called after him cryptically. "You can't be mad at me forever."

Tuesdays were your favorite day of the week.

Well they weren't...your favorite; did anyone even have a favorite day of the week?

To be completely honest, they were actually kind of nasty.

Tuesdays and Thursdays were the days you had the heaviest course load at the Community College. Your first class started at 7am—you thought they would be easy thanks to your early starts in high school, but you thought wrong—and aside from a brief, squeezed-in lunch break at 11:45, you had classes straight until 3. Tuesdays also meant Bingo at the Rec center and an early dinner rush of senior citizens at Benny's that started right at the beginning of your shift. So no breaks again until closer to 6? Or 7? Or later if the actual dinner rush ran long.

And Benny was a nice guy, right? He always let you take an extra 5 minutes when he made his rounds about the restaurant to greet the regulars.

But Lynn? The curmudgeonly opening waitress who had been around Benny's before it was even Benny's?! Who had been doing this for longer than you'd been alive? Lynn spent the tiny bit of overlap in your shifts criticizing everything you did.

Every. Little. Thing.

Usually you could ignore her, but on Tuesdays when you were just one...big mass of irritation, it took everything in you not to flip her the bird as she left. Just one big "fuck you, you miserable old bitch" to her back as she retreated to her clunky, old Mercury Monterey.

As soon as her tail lights were out of sight from the diner windows and she was a little too far to turn back and chastise you about something she forgot to earlier—she had done that enough for it to always be a valid fear—you got to breathe.

You suddenly gained a sense of serenity and joy.

Because Tuesday wasn't your favorite day. Tuesday nights were your favorite nights.

Corroded Coffin came in on Tuesdays. Eddie came in on Tuesdays.

You told yourself going into the day...well, now that you were dating Steve...it was going to be different. It had to be different. The date on Friday really felt like Steve had turned a new leaf; he was moving on from Nancy and was actually gonna give this thing with you a chance.

And your date with him the night before? It had been so perfect; you hadn't even thought about Eddie once. Well...actually...

That fleeting thought you had about Eddie on Friday night, wondering how he might kiss you, left a pit in your stomach. And it had returned with a vengeance after Steve had kissed you last night too. Enough so that it practically kept you up all night from guilt and made you call him this morning to tell him...

I really had a good time with you last night but when you kissed me I thought of someone else.

...to tell him what a great time you had, and that you were excited to see him again.

And it wasn't a lie. You were excited to see him. Excited for this change in him. Excited for the attention and affection he freely gave you during these last two dates that he, generally, hadn't given you during the first two.

You owed it to Steve, and to yourself, to give it a chance. And in order for it to be a fair chance, you had to make a clear distinction in your mind that...well...Steve was...your boyfriend now, and Eddie? Eddie was unfortunately just a friend.

A friend you wanted to kiss.

God this was gonna be difficult.

You could still be nice to him, still look forward to Tuesday nights when he and the guys would come in. They were fun nights filled with music and silly arguments and a textbook example of "boys will be boys."

You simply had to remember that all of those little extra things you did—make sure his favorite booth was free, ask Benny for pickles on his patty melt that he always forgot to ask for, or give him extra whipped cream on his slice of pie—weren't because you wanted Eddie to like you. Or notice you. Or maybe ask you out one day.

It was because you were his friend.

You had even come up with some foolproof plan to get the butterflies to stop flapping in your stomach when you did all of those little things for Eddie. Because you certainly couldn't stop doing them; that would be suspicious. Instead, every time your heart would beat a little harder for Eddie, you would just...think of Steve. His smile and his laugh and his kiss...

It would be so easy.

And certainly much easier tonight of all nights, as Steve walked into Benny's with Corroded Coffin, laughing along to some joke Jeff told before they had opened the door.

It would be so easy.

"Hey guys," you greeted nervously and turned to Steve. "What are you doing here?"

“What a lovely greeting Honey,” Steve chuckled and quickly glanced around before he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment as Eddie and the boys watched the interaction, Dave and Gareth giving Eddie pointed looks, which he ignored.

How strange.

“Steve, please,” you laughed nervously. “I’m at work.”

“Well the boss isn’t around,” Steve pointed out.

“Uh…w-well I have your usual booth ready guys,” you greeted Eddie and his friends.

"Harrington's joining us tonight," Eddie pointed out. "Can we get a table or instead?"

"I can just pull an extra chair up to the booth," you offered, knowing Eddie really liked the view out of the window.

"Yeah," Steve agreed. "That booth does sound nice, Eddie. I don't mind a chair."

"No, we'll get a table," Eddie waved a hand dismissively. "Everyone good with that?" The rest of the guys agreed and Steve huffed an agreement beside you.

"Ok, uh," you stammered. "Wherever you guys wanna sit then, I'm the only one here tonight. And Ben. As usual."

It wasn't...terrible or anything, them wanting a table, it just threw off your cadence. If they had sat in the booth, you already had menus, waters, and silverware set out. Now you had to move everything across the restaurant because Eddie had beelined for a round table in the corner.

It was fine.

Steve hung back for a second and pulled you to the side.

"Hey, uh, is it ok that I'm here?" he asked. "You look a little flustered."

"Yeah, no I'm ok," you gave him a small smile. "Just wasn't expecting you. And I've had a bit of a long day. Kind of overdue for my last break too."

"You should ask Benny if you can take your break," Steve offered. "We'll be fine. The guys are hungry but they'll have to wait regardless."

"The...guys..." you narrowed your eyes at Steve. It felt too familiar coming from his mouth. "What are you doing here with them Steve?"

There was a beat as Steve's eyes got a little bigger and he looked down at his feet for a second before he cleared his throat.

"Listen Honey, I took what you said the other day to heart," Steve started quietly, inching a little closer to you. "About Eddie being your friend. I figured...he had something going on with him, I shouldn't have been so quick to judge. So I went to check up on him and...I don't know, turns out the guy isn't half bad when you get to know him."

"Really?" you asked blankly. You had no reason not to trust him but...going from calling someone a dangerous freak who should be in jail to hanging out with him and his friends in just a few days...seemed drastic.

But when you stared into his hazel eyes, there wasn't a hint of deceit in them.

"Sure," he shrugged a little. "I even went and watched his band play tonight."

"You did?" You were sure the craziest music Steve was into was Van Halen, if that. All of the tapes in his car were…rocky and poppy and nothing outside of the Top 40 charts.

"They're pretty good," he grinned. "Very good actually. They did Flight of Icarus and Mr. Crowley."

"You...listen to metal?" you asked with a frown.

"Uh," Steve shrugged again. "There's some good songs. And Ozzy. Who doesn't know Ozzy?"

"You gonna sit there and chit chat all night Harrington?" Eddie called from the table and the rest of the guys all chuckled. Steve's eyes hardened for a second but he gave you a gentle smile before he went to join them.

You didn't always go outside during your breaks; more often than not, you would sit in the kitchen, do some homework, and chat with Benny as he manned the grill. You'd think a middle-aged man and a 19-year old would have nothing in common, but Benny was honestly like an aloof father figure. He just stood there as you talked or complained about this or that, offered advice or lame jokes. It was perfect.

But tonight was just...confusing.

You tried to make the best of it, you really did. You brought the guys everything they needed, you smiled shyly when Steve reached over and held your hand as he ordered...

He even asked for a little kiss and you reluctantly gave him a peck on the cheek.

But it was Eddie.

He was being a real douchebag. Not to everyone else; just to you.

You had gotten their table set up and then went to check on the other customers and get their drink orders. But when you came back, he didn't even want his Dr. Pepper. He said water was fine.

When you asked everyone if they wanted their usuals—Patty Melts all around. No onions for Dave, extra sauce for Gareth, on a bun instead of rye for Jeff, and add pickles for Eddie—Eddie changed his mind and ordered a bacon cheeseburger instead. Ok, no big deal. It wasn't the first time he'd changed it up.

But then he had just been...picky.

The fries were overdone, the bacon wasn't crispy, it wasn't medium well.

You had brought his food back to the kitchen 3 times, and Benny even offered to kill Eddie for you to get you to laugh.

"He's a good kid but maybe it's his time of the month or something," Benny shrugged, urging you to let things slide. "Got bitten by a werewolf. Or turned into a vampire or something. I could even put some garlic powder on the fries, see if it does him in."

He then told you to go take your break, that he would take the burger back out and make sure none of the guys were having any problems with their food.

"Or else," he raised his spatula as though it was a deadly weapon.

Who knows, Benny kept things to himself, maybe he could kill someone with a spatula...

You were leaning against the grey stucco on the side of the building, enjoying the slight breeze, when there was a crunch of gravel off to the side. You turned your head to see Steve standing there with a small smile and his hands in his pockets.

"You doing ok, honey?" he asked.

"Yeah, just a long day like I said," you explained.

"How was class?"

"Stupid. How was work?"

"Stupid." He grinned wider. "I, uh, was really looking forward to seeing you tonight though."

You pursed your lips to stop the smile from making it onto your face.

"You really wanted to see me in my stupid uniform?" you asked, holding your hands out to emphasize the shapeless blue dress. "I look like Hazel."

"Did I ever tell you that I had the biggest crush on Shirley Booth when I was a kid?" You broke out in laughter. "What? What's so funny? Hazel might just be my type, did you ever think of that?"

"You are..." you started, but paused and shook your head dismissively as he got closer to you.

"I'm?" he questioned, leaning over to take one of your hands in his. He pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

"You're not...what I expected Steve Harrington to be like," you muttered. His eyes went wide for a second as they darted back and forth between yours. "You're so much better."

"Of course I'm better, it's because I'm..." He faltered for a moment. "It's because I'm crazy about you, honey."

Your heart dropped into your stomach...

Steve was...crazy about you?

"You just make me wanna dance," he chuckled and took a step back, pulling you with him. He lifted your arm and made to twirl you around, and you laughed as you tripped on the gravel drive. He urged you to try again and you managed to twirl this time, apron flaring.

Round and around until you got a little dizzy and he pulled you to his chest.

"Hi Honey," he whispered as he rocked you back and forth to some unheard tune.

"Hi," you giggled breathlessly.

"Can I kiss you?"

"You don't always have to ask."

"But can?"

"Always."

Then his lips pressed to yours and you closed your eyes and you were surrounded by him again. Noses brushing, his lips softly pecking at yours, his hands tugging you closer as you reached up to hold his face in yours.

He pulled away briefly to drop little kisses on the corner of your mouth, then your cheek. Your eyes opened and you watched your own fingers thread through his hair, seemingly leading him further along to your neck, but instead it was just an unwitting follower because the choice to suck a bruising kiss at your pulse point was anything but yours.

You grasped at him tighter as something between a whimper and a moan exited you, and he chuckled in a husky, smokey way before laving his tongue over the abused spot.

You closed your eyes again, luxuriating in the moment and all things Steve Harrington...then it hit you.

All of the other senses got to you first—touch and taste, and sound and sight—and now it was smell. And it wasn't what you had initially associated with Steve, that bright, citrus scent.

It was musky and sweaty and spicy and a little bit sweet. There was a heavy undertone of tobacco beneath it all.

Eddie.

"Hey kid, break time's over!" Benny hollered into the night and you pushed yourself away from Steve, stumbling over the gravel drive once again. His hands reached out for you, to pull you back or to steady you, you couldn't be sure.

You regained your footing and batted his hands away to quickly fix your rumpled uniform and wipe at your lips with the back of your hand.

"You good Honey?" Steve chuckled. "You need a minute?"

"Uhh, yeah, I'll be in there in just a second," you waved him back inside. He gave you a wink and a smug smile before he turned and headed back to the door.

Your posture went slack for a second as you tried to control your heart rate and your thoughts. And where your head should have been consumed with thoughts of Steve, instead they were filled with—

"Nope! No. No more!" You stomped your feet and gave your face a few light slaps. "No more. Bad."

You took a few deep breaths, regained your composed service persona, and headed back in.

You spotted the guys table had been cleared, so you got ready for the best part of the night.

Benny was a realist who knew how to do burgers, fries, and shakes, and outside of that, didn't push the ticket. Which meant all of the desserts came from the local bakery every afternoon. They even came pre-sliced.

The whipped cream however? Benny was a connoisseur. He boasted to everyone that had the patience to hear about it that it wasn't cool whip, it wasn't from a squeeze can. If there was whipped cream on a shake or a dessert it was fresh.

"Nothing good in life comes without a little effort," he said the first time he handed you the hand-crank-egg beater-turned-cream-whipper that was, most assuredly, older than you.

So you spent the next few minutes plating everyone's desserts, whipping the cream, and getting it all looking perfect. It might have been the end of their meal, but it was the highlight of your night.

You would take a win where you could. Because everything else felt...

"Alright guys, time for dessert?" you asked, bringing the tray to their table.

You went clockwise starting with Eddie at the head of the table.

Cherry pie for Eddie, Apple for Gareth and Dave, Cheesecake for Jeff.

"And I didn't know what you'd like Steve," you told him with a sad smile. "But just let me know what sounds good and I can go grab it for you."

You were about to start putting dollops of whipped cream on everyone's dessert when Eddie pushed his plate further out from him.

"I didn't ask for Cherry," he said with a sniff.

Everything went quiet.

"Uh," Dave looked at the other guys at the table. "Cherry is your favorite man."

"I don't know, I'm not in a cherry pie mood," Eddie dismissed. He looked up at you "Can I get cheesecake instead? No whipped cream."

"S-sure," you smiled.

You were about to grab the cherry pie from the table to bring it back when Steve reached out and pulled it towards him.

"I'll just take this one," he reasoned. "Cherry actually is my favorite, and I am definitely in a cherry pie mood."

Eddie laughed.

"Whatever you say Harrington," he teased with a roll of his eyes. "Guess you have to get an extra long run in tomorrow if you're indulging so much. Mr. Star Athlete over here."

The

"I'm not gonna say no to cherry pie," Steve shrugged then looked at you. "Can I get extra cream on mine honey?"

He winked at you and you felt your face heating up, but you kept your mouth shut. You went around piping the whipped cream on everyone else's desserts, then ran back to the kitchen to get Eddie's.

As soon as the door swung shut behind you, you started to feel sick.

Something was wrong...

It was just off, you'd been feeling it all night. But you couldn't put a finger on it until now.

It was Eddie...

He was still his funny self...for the most part. But just like the other day at Family Video, he just seemed to be operating on a different frequency. And you wondered for a second if maybe it was you...or maybe it was Steve...maybe the fact that Steve was here and he wasn't...being very discreet with his affections. Neither were you, if you were being honest.

Was he...angry? Jealous?

He was the one to invite Steve out in the first place, so it seemed. Something just didn't make sense...

Steve had to admit that he was having fun.

It had barely been a few days of being Eddie Munson, but it was great. He spent most of the weekend with the kids learning the basics of DnD and putting together some things for a campaign.

He still didn't really get the whole game part, actually. But spending time with the kids? He wouldn't say no.

Having to go to school again wasn't...the greatest. Especially when all of the teachers seemed to have it out for Eddie. Steve just...started paying a little more attention, stopped being a general menace during class. He dug deep to remember some of the coursework from last year...and vaguely wondered how much Eddie didn't pay attention in class in the first place. Steve was not a model student and he could still remember this stuff, so he figured Eddie should be getting an A+ in all of his classes he was repeating now for a second time.

He was sorely mistaken.

Eddie's friends were also...pretty nice too, he had to admit. He had never really given the Hellfire Club the time of day when he was still at Hawkins High, aside from the obvious, but they were actually pretty nice guys.

The music though? It had been the highlight of his week so far.

Steve hadn't ever really understood what the big whoop the theater kids got performing but it was an adrenaline rush, something he hadn't felt for months since he was no longer a star athlete. He hadn't even been playing the guitar but the high of being on that raised platform, having the lights in his eyes, having his heart beat in time with the drum. He hammed it up a bit on the stage once he felt confident enough, like he had seen in one concert or another.

It wasn't the kind of music he liked, really, but he could get used to it if only to chase that rush.

And Steve had felt like a king again when Jeff had clapped him on the shoulder at the end of the set and excitedly gushed on that being the first time he had ever fully landed some solo or another.

Except..."Eddie" hadn't nailed the solo. Eddie had.

And as infectious as the celebration was, it made him feel a little guilty that Eddie couldn't even properly celebrate what must have been an exciting moment. Instead he just sauntered out from the little alcove they had set up and watched Steve take the credit for his accomplishments.

Steve went through the motions, just like they had agreed on, for the rest of the night.

They went to Benny's with "Steve" in tow at "Eddie's" insistence—he couldn't be left alone with Eddie's friends, he just knew he would fuck something up and give it all away—and had their late night bites.

And you were there, laughing and chatting and doting on all of the guys, especially "Steve." Even though it sucked watching you kiss his cheek, knowing it was really Eddie inside…it was nice to know that he had something to look forward to once he got back into his own body.

Something real. Something he thought he had with Nancy.

Now that the remnants of dessert were pretty much over and the guys were just shooting the shit until Benny kicked them out, Steve wandered across the restaurant to the old jukebox to pick out some music.

He briefly wondered what the response would be if “Eddie” picked something like Billy Joel. He couldn't give less of a shit though. "Eddie" might not like it but Steve was a little tired of metal after hearing it all night, after all.

"Hey Eddie?" your voice came from behind him and he turned to face you.

"Yeah, hey...uh...sweetheart," he gave you an easy smile. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were doing ok," you explained. “You seem…I dunno, kinda off tonight.”

“What?” Steve faltered. He seemed off? How? If you could tell…could the others?

”Yeah you didn’t…want your regular order, you didn’t want pie,” you shrugged. “Didn’t even want whipped cream on your cheesecake.”

Shit.

How was it that he could flawlessly fake his way through a guitar solo, but not this?

"I...uh...," he started hesitantly, wracking his brain for an excuse. He dug deep, deeper than he thought was possible, and he came up with...

Dinner with his parents. His father pushing away a plateful of food. His mother looking tired and bored.

"Sometimes people's tastes change," he finished.

It was a painful answer for him to give...but he didn't think you and Eddie were close enough for your expression to crumple the way it did. It probably wasn't the kind of answer Eddie would give to a friend—he had seen how protective he had been over them even before this whole fiasco—but if it meant getting you off his back, he would easily do something that would push you away.

"You know I've been worried about you," you stared. "The other day, outside of Family Video. It was so incredibly scary. And if you're having a tough time..."

"Uh, yeah," Steve folded his arms across his chest awkwardly. "Sorry about that. It was just...just a bad high. I'm ok now. No need to worry."

"Ok," you nodded hesitantly. Steve thought you would just turn on your heel and walk away.

But you didn't.

“Listen I know we’re not…super close or anything,” you hesitated. Steve raised his eyebrows and nodded for you to continue. “I just…I want you to know you aren’t alone.”

“Thanks, uh, I appreciate that,” he nodded and smiled tightly.

"And if there is something going on, you can trust me."

"Of course."

"You know," you paused and looked down at your hands. It was several beats of you taking deep breaths and looking down at your hands, and Steve wondered if you were waiting for some kind of response...or thinking the right words to say next. You glanced up and frowned. "I had a-a c-crush on you in high school."

His heart dropped in his chest and suddenly it felt like Nancy all over again. Telling him that she didn't love him, telling him that it was over, that their relationship was fake, that she didn't even know she was ready to be in a relationship. Only to show up with Jonathan Byers to the Sadie Hawkins dance a few weeks later.

Steve thought everything was working out so well with you. He watched you...kiss his cheek.

Were you planning on breaking up with him?

He wanted to lash out, like a wild animal, tell you all of the things he wishes he could have said to Nancy.

Except...

Except he wasn't Steve Harrington at that moment, he was Eddie Munson.

And you weren't confessing your feelings in a way like someone with a crush would. You didn't look happy or excited. You didn't even really look like your usual sweet and kind self. You looked conflicted.

Because, he realized, he did watch you kiss his cheek. He, Steve, watched you kiss "Steve's" cheek.

If you weren't here to tell "Eddie" that you were breaking up with "Steve" to be with him, then what were you doing?

"I-I mean, we both did," you backtracked with a little laugh and Steve frowned. "Me and Terry. You remember Terry right? I mean, of course you do."

Steve didn't know who Terry was, but "Eddie" would.

"Of course I do."

""Right," you smiled. "Anyway, we both had a crush on you. And there was this time...I don't know, you don't want to hear about this."

"You're dating Steve now," he pointed out. "Why are you telling me this? Why are you telling me that you—"

"I guess," you interrupted him but hesitated again. "You seemed pretty lonely last year, all the times we talked. Even if they weren't...talks? Just small talk. But...after Mickey left for college and you stayed behind—"

That's right, Mickey Caldwell...and his sister Terry...

"--well you have the band and all...but...no one even wanted to be your partner in class but me. And now...you have to do it again and I'm sure it's even harder now."

Steve was catching on.

You weren't there to tell "Eddie" that you were breaking up with "Steve" to be with him. You were just being a good friend. Because even though Eddie had his group of misfit friends...

He was lonely.

Steve knew the feeling. Aside from Robin and the kids...he really didn't have anyone around either. He had just been thinking about how nice it was to spend time with Eddie and his friends after all.

Steve had been jealous that Eddie was spending all of this time with the kids...taking them away from Steve, when he was just as lonely as Steve was...if not more so.

It gave him an idea...

"So," you broke Steve from his thoughts. "If you ever...want to talk. I'm here for you. You have me, always, if ever you want."

You smiled then. Bright and hopeful.

"Well, thanks, sweetheart," he nodded and placed a hand on your shoulder. "I appreciate it...really...it's very nice of you. You're a really good friend."

He didn't see—didn't notice—how your smile fell as he walked past you to get back to the table with the rest of the guys.

Eddie walked into the familiar darkness of the Harrington house, a good exhaustion settling in his bones as he trudged up the stairs and into his bedroom.

He went through the motions of getting ready for bed. with a peaceful smile on his face. It had been a good day, the likes of which he really hadn’t felt in a long time. If ever.

The show at the Hideout then dinner at Benny’s. Dancing with you, kissing you, and holding you in his arms.

He could see your smile in his mind’s eye clear as day.

He didn’t want to delude himself into thinking it was love or…or happiness…it was just joy. Plain and simple. And it brought him so much comfort, knowing he could be the one to provide that for you.

Once he was in bed though, and he replayed specific moments over again, that comfort soon faded.

He tried to sleep, he really did.

But every thought he had, he thought of you. Looking perfect in your little uniform. Your laugh as you spoke to everyone, the special attention you gave him. You looked at him the way he always wanted you to.

You moaned the way he could only ever have imagined when he kissed your neck. It was filthy and still ringing in his ears hours later.

He’d wanted to touch you, just like he did in his dream that morning and it was even nicer than he had imagined.

The only thing that would have made it better was if he was in his own body. If it was him, Eddie Munson, that you were looking at and feeling things for and moaning for.

It was with all of that and at the reminder of the dream that he had been so rudely pulled from that morning, that Eddie started getting hot under the collar.

It wasn’t about sex, really; it was intimacy. And that’s what he wanted more than anything. The closeness with you. To know you. To be with you.

He closed his eyes and imagined your smile directed at him again, the way you put your hand on his shoulder when you asked if everyone was alright, and then fixed his hair a little bit when you went to leave.

His hair…he’d always been sensitive about it and even in this other body…in his own body…giving it a tug always helped get his motor running.

Eddie reached up and gave Steve’s hair an experimental tug, the short few days not nearly enough for him to be used to the difference in length and texture. It felt crunchy from all the product he had put in and it immediately felt uncomfortable on his fingers.

No touching the hair, noted.

He vaguely wondered, were his nerves on fire because this body was sensitive and aroused and receptive to your attention. Or was it because he, Eddie Munson, resided inside.

Only one way to find out.

He palmed himself over the comforter, then over his sweats, but it wasn’t enough.

Eddie didn’t hesitate to strip himself of his sweats and the suffocating briefs, and he propped the pillows behind him in a more comfortable way so he could…well so he could watch if he wanted to.

Right now he just wanted to imagine. To feel.

The thought of touching himself had vaguely crossed his mind the other day, after he’d jumped into a cold shower shortly after he’d woken up with morning wood. He wondered if that was crossing a line though. Steve’s dick…was just a dick. Just like his dick was a dick. The same but different. And he’d seen different ones before and yeah some were weird or different sized…did it matter?

If Eddie thought about it from a mechanical sense…a car was a car, no matter who the owner was, or how cautious or rough the driver was…and even two cars of the same make and model could have their very unique quirks…

As long as everything worked and you got from Point A to Point B right?

So he closed his eyes and imagined.

You were there, of course, back outside of Benny’s. He was making you laugh and twirling you around, just like he had earlier that night. Watching your little uniform skirt balloon out just the slightest bit. It wasn’t ruffly or anything, just a standard waitress uniform with a straight skirt.

It didn’t take much touching to get him fully hard; he’d spent enough time exploring to know what he liked so he just let the feelings guide him in this new body.

He licked his palm several times then spit in his hand before he held the shaft loosely. He gave it a few loose strokes before he tightened his grip a little and twisted, hissing at the sweet friction.

But this was his fantasy, so your uniform could be anything. Flowier, shorter, enough to see the frilly lace edge of your panties when he twirled you and the skirt flared.

“Didn’t know you were trying to turn this sweet moment into a peep show,” you giggled at him and swatted at his chest as he pulled you into his chest to rock together with him.

“I dunno honey,” he sighed. “I think I would be seeing more than just some lace if this was a peep show.”

“Well, what did you have in mind, big boy?”

The hand that had been resting near his head immediately went down to cup and squeeze his balls, and his throat got tighter as he held in a strangled moan. He wasn’t…too sure if he liked it all that much…but he was positive that he didn’t dislike it. He could make himself grow to like it if he needed to.

He stilled the stroking to run his fingers over the head; a favorite little move of his where he pivoted his wrist, letting the joints in his fingers run over the tip and around the head of his cock, hitting all of his sensitive spots in varying intervals. It wasn’t the same, his fingers weren’t as long now, as he noted while he was playing the guitar earlier.

Regardless, pleasure still surged through him, so it got the job done.

“No peeking,” you whispered against his lips and you covered his eyes with his hands. He’d asked for your panties and you’d agreed without hesitation. If this wasn’t a dream, he would never have been that lucky. He chuckled as your hands pulled away from his and it took everything in him not to look through his fingers at the sound of the rustling of your uniform.

Suddenly your hands were on the waist of his jeans, working the button open and the zipper downwards.

“Honey, what are you doing?” he teased. “You being naughty?” He just about pulled his hands away from his eyes and you snatched your hands away from him.

“Nooo,” you sing-songed. “No looking yet, I’ll tell you when.”

The ache for him to chase his release was different than he was used to. The best way to describe what he usually felt was…dulcet…smooth…it danced along his nerve endings and made him want more. Drove him to do more, to explore more. A siren’s song to tug and twist and tease until he was floating. But now it was almost…primordial. It leached into his skin and deep into his bones; a hefty, cloying need that would grip his entire being whole and drag him into the depths of the earth itself if it could.

It was a delicious contrast, the difference between the softness of your hand wrapped around him and the slight drag from your panties as you used them to help get him off.

You spit on his tip and let it mingle with his precum, let it slide over the sensitive skin.

Eddie spit in his hand again, trying to achieve that feeling that his imagination conjured up but was just outside of the corporeal.

“Do you like it?” you asked and he could hear the feral grin in your voice.

“I like it,” he moaned.

“Do you like me?”

“I love you,” he said breathlessly. “Fuck, I would love you so if you just let me.”

He was close, it was euphoric. His nerves exploding, synapses firing as he twisted his hand around the head just so, squeezed his balls again, and then the base of his cock.

“Ok you can look now.”

And he did, directly into those mischievous, knowing eyes of yours as you looked right back at him.

“Cum for me Steve.”

And…he couldn’t…he couldn’t…

Eddie opened his eyes and stared around the room–a room that wasn’t his–looked down at the hands that weren’t his, touching the cock that wasn’t his.

Because as much as Eddie could simply…compartmentalize and rationalize for however long he had been in his little fantasy…

It was Steve, it was all Steve. All you wanted right now was Steve Harrington and not Eddie Munson. You probably would never want Eddie.

And maybe one day–if he was still cursed to live like this, if he was stuck in this body until the end of his life–he could live with the fact that you wanted Steve.

But as his pleasure evaded him and all of the sad thoughts returned, he simply couldn’t escape the simple fact that his honey didn’t want him…she wanted someone else.

The guys had left shortly after your...interaction with Eddie.

Your confession.

The sweet kiss Steve had given you before they had left was...wonderful. But it was like the glue holding together the broken vase on that one episode of the Brady Bunch.

The feelings were building, the pressure too much, and before long...you sprung a leak and the reality of what you had done hit you. It had you shaking. Benny must have known something was wrong; he had asked you all through your closing tasks if you were alright.

"You good kid?" He asked. "Cuz I can finish up if you wanna get home. I know today's your busy day."

Truth be told, he always asked you that, but the extra edge of concern to his voice was a dead giveaway that you weren't doing a good job of holding it together.

“Nah Ben,” you smiled meekly. “I’m ok. Tired. But I’ll make it. Thanks.”

You started hyperventilating by the time you got into your car.

“Stupid, you’re so stupid,” you muttered to yourself. “How could you tell him?”

You weren’t even sure what possessed you to say anything, what compelled you to stop and say those dumb words.

You know, I had a crush on you.

What did you expect him to say...confess that he had a crush on you too?

Declare his undying love for you?

Instead he just called you a friend.

By the time you reached the 5th street intersection, you rationalized that, at the very least, you hadn’t mentioned that you still had a crush on Eddie. And as you pulled into your driveway, you were panicking again because…well what did this mean now that Steve was spending time with Eddie?

Would he say anything? God, did Steve already know?

It really was nice that Steve was hanging out with Eddie...they seemed to get along well enough. And yeah Eddie had the guys but…well, it wasn’t a stretch to say that Eddie could use as many friends on his side as he could get. He always put on a brave face but that didn’t mean he never felt lonely. Or alone. Stuck in a place he desperately didn’t want to be.

You just wanted to tell him it was ok. That he had you if he want—

"God, stop," you slammed your hands against the steering wheel as though it would force the thoughts from your brain. As though it would stop your heart from aching. "Stop thinking about him, you have to stop thinking about him."

Because the more you thought about Eddie, the more you’d want to comfort him.

And the more you wanted to comfort him, the more you’d want to hold him and kiss him.

And he’d made it plenty clear tonight that he didn’t see you as anything more than Mickey’s Kid Sister’s Silly Friend.

Or at least that’s just how it felt.

Another busybody townie who couldn’t mind their own business, who had to offer words of encouragement, who pitied him.

No. Not that. He didn't give people who pitied him the time of day. What if...

Bile rose in your throat as you came to a realization.

What if he didn’t just see you as another silly townie? What if he had known? He had known you had a crush on him all along, and he had taken pity on you. Because you were Terry's friend, he didn't want you to get hurt. And now that you were with Steve...he couldn't let you keep your hopes up anymore? You had a real boyfriend now.

That was it...

He was just...being nice to you all this time.

And that...hurt.

The realization of all that wasted time. Years spent thinking...hoping...

You made it into your house, went through the motions of getting ready for bed, and numbly said goodnight to your mom as your mind raced and raced and your heart broke even more.

It wasn't until you were tucked into bed, head filled with sad thoughts of every time you thought that maybe...just maybe Eddie liked you back, that you remembered.

Your diary.

Some silly old pink think that Terry had gotten you for your birthday years ago. You didn't write in it too often—you hadn't ever really been a diary person—certainly not recently. It was tucked into your nightstand underneath magazines and random junk from your school bag.

You sat up, turned the lamp on, and opened the drawer. You dug through the junk until you found it.

You flipped indiscriminately through pages filled with doodles and random thoughts. Until you came across entries from your freshman year at Hawkins High.

Silly things about class schedules and how mean Mrs. O'Donnell was and how you were not good in geometry.

And then...hearts and stars and flowers and one name repeated over and over and over...

Eddie Munson. Edward Munson. Mrs. Edward Munson.

You ran your fingers over the indentations your pen made in the pages as you read your own silly words.

Eddie invited us to sit with them at lunch.Terry said no, that she wanted to sit closer to the cheerleaders. Maybe they would be nicer to us if they actually knew we existed.

Eddie held open the door for me when I passed him in the hallway.

Eddie got his driver's license. He and his uncle fixed up this van and now he's driving Mickey and Terry to school. He asked if I wanted a ride too, said he would let me ride shotgun on Fridays. He's so sweet.

Eddie called me sweetheart today. I swear my heart stopped. I am dead. I have died.

Terry said she has a crush on someone but she won't tell me who it is. I really want to tell her that I have a crush on Eddie. Maybe if she knew, she could say nice things to him about me.

She likes him too. She wants him to ask her to prom. She keeps asking who my crush is and of course I can't tell her. Because he would obviously choose her over me, who am I kidding?

It's the last entry in the diary and the page is warped from old tears and scribbled over with pen.

After that day, you buried the diary in your nightstand. You kept your thoughts to yourself. Writing them down made them real and scary. Instead you let your secrets fester and grow and rot inside of your heart.

You didn't realize you'd started crying until fresh tears started hitting the already-warped page.

"Shit," you scrubbed at your eyes for a second and then stared at the journal as your throat got tight.

Eddie Munson. Eddie Munson. Eddie Munson.

His name written over and over and over again. Obsessively.

Nancy Wheeler. Nancy Wheeler. Nancy Wheeler.

Just like Steve had been with Nancy. Always talking about her and thinking about her.

All of your wasted feelings. From both of you.

But Steve had moved on. And so could you.

You ripped the warped page out of the diary and tore it to pieces. And then the next page. And the next one. Over and over until your thoughts and feelings were ripped to confetti on your bedspread.

No more.

It was time to move on from Eddie Munson.

Tag List:

@luna-munson83 @kaitebugg03 @invaderzia1 @delusionalbabe @secretdryrose @eddiesguitarskills @simplyundeniable98 @imaslutforcuddles @hanobe8 @josephquinncore @champagnejoker @strawberrysodaslut @fangirling-4-ever @sadbitchfangirl @rosaline-black @vxlkyrieee @aysheashea @micheledawn1975 @thora-jane @pricelessemotion @lfaewrites @hazydespair @realsuper-dark @novelnovella @jaime1110 @manda-panda-monium

#eddie munson x reader #Steve Harrington x reader #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson angst #Steve harrington fluff #Steve harrington angst #Eddie munson smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #Eddie munson stranger things #Steve harrington stranger things #freaky friday au #god this took forever but im so happy with where it landed #holy shit how are they all gonna fix this now

475 notes · View notes