#ec. brown | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lilbitdepressed27 · 4 months

Text

Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader

Summary:blind reader in this one Gale didn't write bad about Sam.

Warnings:…😶

WC: 5.7k

Author’s Note: happy new year y’all. Hope everyone had a good year. Also apologizes in advance for this one. Hope y’all enjoy:D

****~****

After high school you had known that the college life was also going to be hard. It took you forever to know the halls, turns and where your classes were at. It helped that you had your service dog, Scooby. According to your adoptive mom, he was a brown Chesapeake Bay Retriever. Now you had no idea what they looked like but you are positive he was cute. People always tended to gush about him where ever you took him. He had been a great help for you as you adjusted in this new city.

Your mom had been skeptical at first but she knew she had to let you go. She was very protective of you especially after your father was killed. You had been away on a school trip with your class when it had happened. You had only found out about it two days after when your mom personally came to get you from the trip. The trip had been in Alaska, it was supposed to be a two month trip but due to the attacks it was cut short.

The news had devastated you. Especially since you didn't know about it right away, cause of the no cell reception. So it was harder for your mom to reach you. You and your mother had cried for days.

She didn't know how she'd be able to let you move to New York by yourself with Scooby. She wouldn't be able to move on if she lost you or Scooby. She loved that dog, he was such a good boy. They had trained him on some simple commands to help you.

Dewey had helped you teach Scooby the commands.

So with that fear in mind, not only did she move to the city herself, she didn't have it in her to let you leave and live by yourself. But she also had called someone she hasn't spoken to as much as she wanted.

"Gale? Hey it's been awhile."

"Hello Sam, how's it going?"

"Uh pretty good we're settled in and you know Tara's worried about starting school again, she says she's not nervous but I can tell she is. How are you holding up, since you know..."

"Oh you know I'm hanging in there. I was actually calling to ask you for a favor. I completely understand if you can't. I know trust goes a long way for you."

"Gale relax, if it wasn't for you, people would still be dragging my name through the mud. What can I help you with?"

Gale leaned back in her desk chair. She tried so hard to make sure you had stayed out of her life as a reporter. Keeping you a secret from the world was surprisingly easy. Especially if there was crazy psycho trying remake a movie. Dewey and herself had agreed to keeping you a secret. Adopting you was one of her greatest things she could have done. She remembers the day she first saw you, it was a couple months after she found out that she couldn't have kids. Dewey had tried to tell her that it was okay, that they didn't need a kid to be a happy family. But she knew better, they both had wanted a baby in the family.

So they went to a foster home. And that's where they found you, a tiny little girl. You were only baby, a year old to be exact when they saw you walking around crashing into things, walking into walls. They had watched how the other older kids would ignore you. You would babble to get anyone's attention but you'd be ignored. After crashing into a wall once again, they watched how you stood back up with a smile on your face. You had a small ball in your hands but no one to play with. They didn't understand why, until you got closer. Stumbling here and there.

Your soft y/ec eyes had clear white spots in them. Even though they were warned about you, they had fallen in love with you the moment they saw you.

"I have a daughter."

"Oh what? Wow uh congratulations?"

"No I've had her for a while, she's 19." She knew Sam probably didn't believe her.

"Really? Why are you telling me this?"

Gale heard the confusion, but she couldn't follow you every where. So she needed someone to keep an eye on you. Just a safety precaution. Something that could help her keep calm. Making friends was something that didn't come easy for you. Even though you're a bright and happy kid, other people weren't. It never affected you though. Your smile always stayed. 'Life is too short for me to be butt hurt that people don't want to be my friend, I'll be fine mom.' Was something you always said.

"She has this, thing. And I was just hoping you'd kinda just be there for her. She doesn't make friends easily and I know I'm asking a lot but—Gale relax. What's her name?"

~~~~~~******~~~~~~

The day had come. You had recently moved into the studio room with the help of your mom. She had helped remind you where everything was at. Making sure you knew every corner, step, counter in the apartment. It took a while but you got it. Now you could do somethings by yourself. Like bathe (obviously), get yourself dressed (your wardrobe was filled with mostly black clothing), colored clothing was in a different drawer, cook (pb&j's, cup noddle soup, wash dishes) You weren't completely helpless. A life without vision was something you were used to.

"Okay Scooby, how do I lo-" Your phone rang, cutting you off. You turned to the direction of the phone, hearing the nails scrapes of your dog. The phone ring getting closer. You felt the nudge on your knee. Reaching down feeling the cold nose of your dog, taking the phone from him. Siri had been notifying you of who was calling. "Thanks buddy."

"Hi mom."

"Hey honey, listen I called a friend of mine her name is Sam and she's on her way to take you to class-Moom-I know I know but please just give your lady a piece of mind. I swear I'm getting more grey hair. Just please do it for me."

You sighed and nodded. "Okay mom. When is she co-" The sound of the door bell rang throughout the studio. "I thinks she's here."

***

"Wait since when does Gale have a daughter?" Tara asked confused. She had over heard Sam's call with Gale and had wanted to help Gale's daughter. Especially since they'd be going to the same college.

"I don't know, she has a daughter that's your age, lives alone with a dog, apparently doesn't know anyone here cause she just moved here and her name is Y/n. We are going to go pick her up tomorrow."

"Damn. Gale weathers kept her daughter a secret?" The younger carpenter sibling said amazed. She would have never guessed that Gale had a daughter. She had started to wonder what the girl looked like.

Now that she was kept waiting, she was left feeling just a tad bit excited to meet the girl. She wondered if she was like more like Gale or Dewey. Probably a mix of both.

"Who's there." Your hand felt around for the button next to the door. It was intercom that your mom had paid to get installed. It was the best tech that your mom could possibly find.

"Hi Y/n it's Sam, Gale sent me."

"Mom I thinks she's here, uh how do I know I can trus-You can honey, trust me. Sam is a good one."

"Okay. I love you." Your mom returned the term of endearment before hanging up. Your hands felt around for the locks on the door. Unlocking all ten of them. Once finished you opened the door.

Sam stood on the other side, her eyes widening just a bit at the sight of your eyes. Now she understood why Gale wanted someone to watch over you. Tara stood behind her sister, jaw slack as she took you in as well. She had never seen someone so beautiful. She took in your smile as you let Sam in offering your hand that Sam shook. She walked close behind her sister as she watched one of cutest dogs she's ever seen close the door behind her. Her eyes looked into yours. Most of your eye color was covered with a cloudy white color. There was still some color in there but not as much. They were still the most beautiful pair of eyes she has ever seen.

"And you are?" The question was directed to her. It was what snapped her out of her thoughts. Her face felt flushed and warm as you looked in her direction.

You had heard the other set of footsteps when you let Sam in. You could smell the different perfume the person used. It was a smell you liked, never had you smelled something so, beautiful? The person stopped in front of you. You offered a smile and held a hand out.

"T-Tara. I'm Tara Sam's sister." Tara ignored the raised eyebrow directed towards her by her sister. Her face felling hot as she shook your hand. Your hand was much bigger than hers but it was so soft and warm. She wanted to hold on to it forever.

Your ears felt blessed as you took in her voice. It was the most beautiful voice you had ever heard.

"Nice to meet you Tara. This is Scooby. I'm sorry if my mom made you guys co-Hey now we wanted to, now are you ready?" Tara reassured. She didn't want you feeling like they didn't have a choice in the matter. Tara had never been so grateful that Gale trusted them in meeting her daughter. Cause you had to be one of the most beautiful woman she's ever seen.

"Uh yea. I just need my walking stick and my backpack."

At the mention of the backpack the two sisters watched as the dog scurried away towards the living room. Retrieving your backpack from the small coffee table. He had already had his service vest on and he was ready to go. With a smile on your face you took the backpack that had your walking stick. You moved to take it out but a warm hand stopped you.

"I got you, you can hold my elbow." Tara with a blush on as you took her elbow with a smile. She ignored the pointed look from her sister once again. She felt warm all over at the feeling of your soft hand touching her skin. She lead you out the apartment while Sam locked up.

Sam watched how Tara directed where each step was at. Telling you where exactly was the button to call the elevator. Although Sam felt like you already knew where it was at. She watched as you smiled and followed Tara nevertheless. Right before leaving the apartment you had reached for your sunglasses. Covering your eyes, she saw the disappointment in her sister's eyes the second it happened.

Sam couldn't help the small smile, Tara had been different since last year's attacks. But seeing that smile on her face while she spoke to you was something she hoped to see more.

"Okay here's your music class." Tara directed you into the class, there were already some students in the class waiting for the professor to arrive. "Do you wanna sit in the front?" She touched your hand that was still holding the inside of her elbow. She looked up at you, your soft smile on display as you looked down in her direction. Seeing her reflection on your sunglasses. She wished she could see your eyes again.

"Yes please, thank you Tara. I really appreciate you helping me."

The smile she got in return felt like a reward, seeing such a beautiful smile directed her way had Tara feeing like she could just melt to the floor.

"I wanted to. Now here's your recorder, your mom said you like to go back and listen to the lessons. Here, it's the professors textbook she's using this year." Before getting to the class, they had stopped by the library. When she saw the classes you were taking, they took a little detour. Grabbing the textbooks she knew would benefit you more.

"Thank you Tara but I can't exactly see." You said with a teasing smile. Feeling her cheeks warming up, she couldn't help the chuckle that left her lips.

"I know that, but this one you'll like better. I'll see you two after class. Bye." She smiled down at Scooby who had sat on the seat right next to yours, laying his head down on the arm rest.

"We'll see you later, thanks again Tara." You smiled up towards the direction you knew she was standing at. Your heart skipping at beat when you felt her warm hand on top of yours.

"You're welcome. Now I really have to go or else I'll be late to my class."

She left the room soon after. You smiled to yourself. Remembering to call your mom to thank her. Tara sounded so...beautiful. You may be blind but just by her voice you knew she was beautiful. Tara will be a great friend to have around.

Hearing the professor walk in and announce the beginning of his lecture you hit record on your recorder. Taking the book that Tara had gotten for you. Your breath hitching in your throat when your fingers felt over the cover. It was a braille version of the textbook. Your mom had told you that they didn't have braille books for the music course you were taking. But here it was. Noted that it did feel old but nevertheless it was a book you could read. Feeling your eyes watering a bit, no one had been this nice to you, that wasn't family. To go out of their way to do something so kind. Yet Tara did.

Scooby laid his head on your arm. You smiled down at him petting his head. Maybe making friends here wouldn't be so hard.

The weeks that followed had been great for Tara. She had spent most of her days with you. Or you with her at her apartment with the rest of the gang. You and Scooby have become such a great addition to the group. Having you around the apartment had been something that she loved to see.

Since you had been her friend the amount of frat parties she had gone to have been minimum. Choosing to rather be with you and Scooby either at your apartment or hers.

Something that Sam had liked.

Sam had seen the bond between her sister and you grow. The way you with out trying brought out the girl Sam had left behind five years ago. The way Tara was around you was of someone that had no worries. Someone that hadn't gone through almost getting killed. Someone who hadn't been betrayed by someone she loved. Someone who had to kill the one she considered a lover.

Sam could also see how you were around her sister. Tara hadn't been the only one to grow attached. Seeing the way you were around Tara was almost comical. Seeing you both dance around each others feelings was funny. Sam had taken to talking to Gale more often. Telling her about how you were doing. But also about how they were doing as well. The bond between Sam and Gale had grown.

"Hey Sam, how was work?"

She had just gotten back from work to find you and Scooby sitting on the floor of the living room. The way you could just tell who the person was, just by their footsteps was something that Sam had found impressive. She had seen how Chad had tried to sneak up on you but you would always greet him before he had the chance.

"Hey Y/n, it was good what are you guys doing? Where's Tara?"

"Well I'm helping Tara with her homework, well the best I can anyway. And she's in the bathroom." You smiled in the direction of where Sam stood.

"That's good. Any one at school giving you trouble?" Sam had been told by not only the twins but also her sister how they had found a group of frat boys picking on you. Scooby had tried his best to comfort you, not only was he there to help you but he was also there to protect you. Sam had been told by Tara how they had arrived in time to see Scooby biting one of the frat boys. The one that had taken your mobility cane.

"No Scooby scares them away. That or Tara does." You joked earning a laugh from the older Carpenter.

"Good, you know if anyone is bothering you, you can tell me." Sam had been told by your mom how you used to get bullied in high school. You were a sweet kid that didn't deserve to be mistreated. It wouldn't be the first time she had scared someone just for looking at you wrong.

"I know. Thanks Sam."

"You're welcome, now I'm making dinner. Spaghetti and meatballs sound good."

"Sounds great."

You were laid on Tara's bed watching a movie you had never heard of. It was one of Tara's favorite movies. The Babadook. You weren't really into scary movies. You had loved hearing the movies your dad watched. The Marvel movies. Daredevil had always been your favorite. For obvious reasons of course. To be blind and still be able to kick ass. Now that was awesome.

But nevertheless Tara had wanted to see the movie, so now you were here. Tara laying her head on your chest as she watched her movie. You were listening in as well. Jumping a bit when a suspenseful scene happened. You didn't see it but from the music and sound effects, not to mention the tv was a bit loud.

But the more you laid there. The more you got lost. The warmth of Tara's body pressing on to you. The feeling of her head laying right above your heart. The way her hand was on your stomach, her fingers softly creasing your stomach. It was sending the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy. Her legs were intertwined with yours. Your arm was also wrapped around her back holding her into place.

You weren't sure what this meant. Seeing as you never really had friends. Or cuddled with anyone. This was something you've never done before. You didn't want to over think anything. Make things weird. So you just laid there. Hoping Tara could feel what you felt. You'd ask but you didn't want to lose this friendship. You didn't want to jeopardize losing Tara.

"I can feel you thinking. What's on your mind?" Tara paused the movie to look up at you. Her chin still on your chest as you looked at you. Your glasses were off, the fairly lights, and the lights coming from the tv made your eyes shine. The small patched of y/ec were noticeable. Your eyes were something she loved to look at. They were like clouds with a bit of color in them. Her fingers came up to your cheek on their own accord. Softly creasing the smooth skin of your cheek. Her smile widening when you leaned into her palm.

"Nothi-Liar. I don't know if you know this but, when something is bothering you or you're thinking too hard. You get this cute little crinkle right here." With a finger she touched in between your eyebrows. Laughing when you were quick to make said crinkle go away. "Now come on tell me."

"Uh I like someone."

Tara felt herself tense, her smile quickly falling from her face. She sat up away from your warmth. Her heart breaking at the thought of you with someone else. Someone getting to lay with you like she had been doing. Someone else being able to get to kiss you. Or seeing you vulnerable like how she's seen you.

"That's-That's..who? Do I know them?" She had hoped her voice didn't come off like she wanted to cry. Cause she could feel the tears building up.

"Yea. You do. It's Sam."

The way her jaw dropped, part of her not believing what she was hearing. You liked Sam?! Samantha!! Her sister?! The ache in her heart grew ten fold. The tears escaped her eyes and she was quick to wipe them away.

"I'm just kidding. It's not Sam. It's you. I like you."

Tara didn't know whether to punch you or kiss you. So she punched your arm. "You asshole." The punch was quickly followed with a kiss. The feeling of her lips on yours was everything she had dreamed of.

"Were you crying?" You reluctantly pulled away when you felt her wet cheeks.

"Duh! I thought you confessing your love to my, sister! You're an asshole for that and I'll never forgive you." Even though the scare was still there. Your teasing smile had her smiling as well.

"I'm sorry. What can I do for you to forgive me." You brought your hands up, cupping her cheeks. You could feel her smile, the dimples that had been your favorite to feel. Her soft skin was so warm.

"Mmh, go on date with me."

"Aw man. I wanted to be the one to ask."

Tara smiled at the sight of your pout. She chuckled, she no longer felt the heart ache. No. She felt like she could kiss you again. And again. And again. The love she felt in her chest felt so strong. Something she never felt before. Not even with...Amber. Amber had made feel something. There was doubt in that. But nothing like this.

"So is that a yes?"

"Of course it's a yes."

You sat in one of tables in the quad. Scooby sat by your side. It wouldn't be long till Tara and Mindy came out of their last class of the day. It had been a month since your date with Tara. A month since you started dating Tara. Just the thought of your girlfriend was enough to have you smiling.

At hearing the familiar footsteps you straighten up. By the way they slowed down you knew she was trying to sneak up on you, so you let her. You felt her soft lips on your cheek.

"Hey baby." Tara had missed you(although she had seen you two hours ago when she walked you to your class) she couldn't help it. To be able to kiss you when ever she wanted, it was something she loved to do. Having you blush every time she kissed you. It was a sight she aimed to see every single hour of the day. Pecking your lips before greeting Scooby (who was happy to see her). "Hello there buddy, are you protecting our girl huh. Anyone bother her?"

"No one bothered me. Where's Mindy?" Feeling her warmth as she sat next to you. You wrapped your arm around her shoulder bringing her closer. You felt her get closer kissing what you thought was her temple but ended up being the corner of her eyes. "Oops sorry." Hearing her giggle was like a blessing to your ears. She cupped your cheeks guiding your lips to hers into a gentle kiss.

"Mmh it's okay. And she's with Anika. Chad's with Ethan doing who knows what. It's just you and me babe-*BARK*-And Scooby of course." Tara chuckled at the interruption.

"Maybe we could have a date ni-Guys! There's a party going down today and we have been invited." Quinn had said with excitement, you Tara had loved to party. It wasn't anything new. Yes, most times she blew off a party to be with you. You had loved every moment you had with Tara. But the thought of her holding back on having fun was something that began to make you feel, guilty?

"Uh I'm not sure-Oh come on Tara. Y/n tell Tara to have some fun."

With those thoughts in mind. You looked in the direction of your girlfriend. "Yea go have fun babe."

"But what-It's okay. I'm going to be on the phone with my mom most of the night. Go. Have fun. You can call me after."

"Fine, ugh okay. But I'll be in your apartment right after. Okay?" A part of Tara didn't even want to go. She had wanted to go back to your apartment and just relax.

She'd only stay at the party for an hour or two and then she'll go to yours.

You had just finished making yourself a cup noddle soup. Moving in the kitchen had been relatively easy for you. You had gotten used to everything in your apartment. Making the soup was easy. Especially when you did it the lazy way. (Water in the cup and then in the microwave). You weren't supposed to but it was much faster that way.

At sound of Scooby barking had you turning to face the noise. "Scooby?" Your hand held on to the counter. Using it to guide you to the noise.

"Here boy."

You heard him growl, you with your hand moving from the kitchen counter to the wall leading to the supply closet. Then you felt Scooby biting your pants leg. Trying lead you away from the door.

"What's wrong-" The force of a being tackled had your sentence cut short. With the sudden weight, weighing you down. The sudden pain of what you assumed was a knife coming down on your shoulder had you screaming. The scream of pain was followed by the yelp of the person.

Scooby had beaten into the arm of the attacker. But a dog wasn't going to stop the attacker. No. He had came prepared. Wearing a material that can withstand a bite from a dog. Killing you was going to be easy. Gutting the dog was something he had been looking forward to. Stabbing the dog, the yelp of pain the dog let out.

"No!" You sobbed out. You couldn't lose him. You felt around for something, anything you could use to help Scooby. Your fingers connected with something solid, it was Chad's baseball bat. You gripped and swung it as hard as you could. You felt the moment the hard bat connected to the attacker. You heard the moment they dropped Scooby. More sobs escaping your lips as you failed to hear any noise coming from Scooby.

"Oh Y/n, you've missed out quite a bit. But let me catch you up to speed."

You're breathing was heavy, feeling like you couldn't catch your breath with how much you were crying. The pain you felt as the knife was brought down into your chest, the pain was too much. You tried to fight back. Your hand holding the knife, you ears finally picked up the faint whimpering of Scooby. He was dying and you couldn't do anything to help him.

"Alexa call Tara."

"Calling Tara."

"No-" A hand covered your mouth as you tried to fight him off. But you could feel your energy fading. You had lost count on how many times you had been stabbed. You didn't want Tara to hear you dying. You didn't-

"Hey baby-Would you relax Sam it's Y/n." Hearing her voice sounded so relieved. Your felt your tears escaping at a rapid pace. Your tears rolling down the side of your face into your ears.

"Babe?"

"Hello Tara."

The voice had her freezing in her steps. The dread overwhelmed her in waves. No it couldn't. He couldn't be back. With you. You were vulnerable. Scooby could only do so much. Feeling Sam behind her as she bolted. Sam close behind her.

"Tara wait! What's wrong?"

"Don't worry Tara. She won't go alone."

Nothing could have prepared her for when she opened your door. There was no noise. Not the tv playing your favorite show, not the scabbing of nails coming to greet her. Not your voice calling out to her with a beaming smile.

No.

What greeted her was the sight of Scooby laying in pool a blood. He was unmoving. His eyes wide with no life in them. Her hand shook as she raised it to her mouth. The sob escaped her lips when she saw who was laying unconscious not too far from Scooby.

“No. No. No. Please god no.” Her vision became a tunnel vision. The only thing she could see was your stiff body. “Y/n?” Your eyes were open but unblinking. The same as your dog. No life in them. Her chest stuttered to get some air in. The sobs that racked her body as she pulled you closer. Your body was no longer warm. It had turned cold.

“No. Come on Y/n. Please. Please don’t leave me. You can’t. You can’t.” The ache in her chest had also started in her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. The pain she felt at seeing no life in your eyes. Your beautiful cloudy y/ec eyes held no life.

“Sam help me! Help me please! Scooby needs help to Y/n-she needs him. She can’t lose him. Please. Pl-please.” She held your limp body closer to her. Wishing that this was just a horrible nightmare. Wishing that she’d wake up and that you’d be right next to her.

But you stayed still. Your body stayed cold.

Tara gasped awake, her eyes frantically looking around the room. She was in her own room. But you weren’t there. The panic grew. The dread growing when she didn’t find you. She reached for her phone calling you. But the more she went without hearing your voice. The more the fear grew. She was out of her bed in no time. In a rush to find you.

It couldn’t be true.

But it felt so real.

When you weren’t in the kitchen, she had to find you. Your apartment is where she’d find you. You had to be there. You just had to.

The force of knocking into someone had been so sudden that she had almost knocked the person over. Had the person not been prepared.

“Wow Tara trying to tackle a blind person are ya?”

The sound of your voice had her already blood shut eyes widening before she let out a relieved sob as she fell into your arms. As she buried her face into your chest holding you tight. The nightmare had felt so real. The pain of losing you had felt so real. Your de- your body she had felt it.

“Talk to me Tara? What’s wrong?” You were worried. Never had you heard Tara crying like this. You had texted her last night but Anika had responded saying Tara drank a bit too much and was taken home late into the night. So you had gone to bed with the plan of going to Tara’s in the morning hoping you could make her hangover a bit better.

“Tara breath for me baby.” The concern grew as you felt her breathing become more erratic. You tried your best to lead her inside without tripping shutting the door behind you. Locking as many locks as you could. Scooby followed close behind. Also worried for the shorter girl.

When your fingers finally touched the couch you sat her down but she refused to let you go. You wanted to know what had caused her to act like this.

You dug into your bag, fingers grazing items you did not need. Once you found what you needed you took it out. “Come on Tar, use your inhaler. Breath for me baby. I’m right here.”

Once she had her breathing under control. You leaned back into the couch. Pulling Tara on your lap and holding her close to you. You weren’t sure what was wrong but it was clear that she needed comforting. Scooby also jumping on to the couch. His head laying into the space of the couch and you and Tara. Trying his best to comfort the girl.

“I had a bad dream. It felt so real. So fucking real. Everything. From the way you act, talk. Even when you use the microwave to heat up your cup noddle soups. Even when I tell you not to do that. Ghostface attacked you and Scooby. You both didn’t make it. Fuck it felt so real. And when I woke up I felt so confused and-when I didn’t see you, the fear grew. I couldn’t tell if the dream was real or not. I can’t lose you Y/n. I just can’t. I don’t think I’ll be able to live without you.” Tara felt herself wanting to cry again.

“I’m right here. I know I can’t necessarily promise you that nothing will happen to me. But I sure as hell can promise you that I’ll try my very best to always return to you.” You kissed the side of her face. What ended being her ear.

“I know, I’m sorry I freaked out on you.” She mumbled into your neck. Her grip on you never loosened up. Not that you were complaining.

“Don’t be. Plus I’m not that helpless. Daredevil isn’t my favorite marvel character for no reason.” You joked hoping you could get a laugh or smile from her. From the sound of her chuckle you knew you had succeeded.

“Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”

With a kiss on your lips, you could still feel her lips trembling just a bit. You wanted her to feel safe. To feel sure.

“I love you Y/n.” To have you laying here with her. It was enough for to calm down just a bit. To have Scooby also here was just enough for her to finally accept that it was just a nightmare.

“I love you to Tara.”

#tara carpenter x reader #scream #tara carpenter #fem!reader

444 notes · View notes

aphroditesbaby1616 · 1 month

Text

Allspice (c.b oneshot)

♡ O.S Inspo: Forever & Always - Fearless (TV) ; "Was I out of line, did I say something way too honest, made you run and hide like a scared little boy?" ♡ Pairing : CarmyxAFAB Reader as little physical description possible | She/Her pronouns used, NO use of Y/N :)

♡ Summary: You have a very successful Culinary Review blog, the social media manager of one of your new hometown restaurants 'The Bear' has been dying to get you out to try their food. But since the EC is a bit of an overzealous competitor, you end up having to go back for round 2- you end up having a delicious dinner, and a free show.

♡ W/C: 4,381

♡ Posted Date: 03/18/24

♡ A/N: FIRST THING: I am HORRIDDDD at writing Claire- I'm much better at writing Carmy cause were alot more similar- so this Claire isn't gonna be CRAZY canon, but I think she got the job done. Anyway- EEEEEP!!! Here is my VERY FIRST ONE SHOT EVER!! Inspired by my amazing, wonderful, PRECIOUS FLOWER @daysofyellowroses that can be found here :) AAAAA!!! My precious Rose I hope you enjoy this, It could ABSOLUTELY have a part 2 if y'all like it. I ended it here cause I'm sooo wordy and I didn't want it to turn in to a multi-chap. fic by mistake...but ofc if y'all want more just tell me and ill get RIGHT TO WORK!!! I really hope this comes off how I saw it in my head. There's no smut/sexy stuff, just mutual pining and flirty teasing, I hope thats ok!! aaa here we goooo!!! Enjoy <3

♡ Warnings for BTC: Swearing, Drinking alcohol (Literally it LOL)

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

Being a Food Critic wasn’t an easy gig, as much as people wanted to believe it’s simply going to famous restaurants, trying their most popular dishes- and giving your opinion, it was much more then that.

Each and every aspect of the restaurant was under your review, from the second you walked in the door, you were judging everything. From the atmosphere, to the music, to the decor, to the comfortability of the furniture all of it, was to meet your expectations if the owner of the establishment wanted a good review.

Today was finally the day you'd review one of the restaurants that had sent 3 requests for you to feature a review of them on your blog.

The Bear. Interesting name, you thought.

With the rugged name- you’d assumed a more millennial hipster-New American vibe. But when you’d arrived- you were quite…impressed? That instead of leaning into that all too common aesthetic, it was more of a classy, comfortable vibe.

They’d not even had bear art, anything of the sort. It was pure comfort, mixed with subtle class. The kind that spoke to the cost of the dishes- but wasn’t in your face obnoxious. The only ‘Bear’ was the little golden bear embossed into the leather menu you’d been handed when seated at the table.

The way you did your reviews was…a tad unusual - some chefs in the industry called it ‘unfair’ but you called it…the fairest things could be. Instead of telling them when you’d be swinging by for a review since where’s the fun in that you’d call, make a reservation under some random name, and they’d know you’d accepted their offer when the review had been posted on your blog.

It felt most honest and fair because you were one of the most renowned food critics in the country right now. If they knew you were coming- any EC with a brain would spend the night before your arrival, prepping the entire restaurant and staff - assuring they’d be on their best behavior to try and squeeze a higher grade out of you.

But you were just a reader once upon a time, years ago- when you realized in culinary school that the making of the art didn’t interest you, it was the observing. Food wasn’t just about taste, but rather the whole experience. And if every famous food critic you’d taken interest in back in the day- never got a true experience due to their notability? You’d never have gotten into this field. So, you were most keen on keeping things fair.

A woman with mousey brown hair comes up to your table, dressed in the typical waitress slacks and black button up shirt. “Hello! Welcome to The Bear. My name is Sam, have you dined with us before?” she asks.

You sit up in your chair, peeling your eyes from the menu. You give her a small kind smile “I haven’t” you replied, urging her to continue her script.

“Well welcome in, we're so happy you chose to spend your evening with us. So for our menu” she opens it in front of you. “Here” she points “are our wine options, fabulous selection this month. Then we have draft beers right next to it. On the following page” she points “all of our craft cocktails, then this,” she points in the bottom corner.

“Our house cocktail - Just called The Bear. It’s wonderful, if you like old fashions you’ll love this - made with Bearface Triple Oak Whiskey.” She said and you nod.

“That please. That’s what I’ll start with” you said and she nodded.

“I’ll get that right in. But quickly, just so you’re aware” she flipped the page and pointed.

“These - are the dishes of the month. Each crafted by one of our two head chefs, they change monthly so if something calls to you I recommend you try- because it won’t be back” she said. You raised your eyebrows a bit in surprise and nod.

“Thank you” you said and she gives a nod before heading off to the bar to put in your drink order before heading off to tend to other tables in your section.

Having an alternating menu intrigued you, for such a high end establishment- one with a Michelin star at that- implementing such a menu would consistently have their star at risk. One dish, one app, one drink- that was not up to par and it would be revoked. You guessed the owners of this place liked living on the edge, as if being in this industry wasn’t already being constantly on edge.

You gaze over the menu, the Chilean Seabass sounded like a fair assessment. Seafood was quite difficult to get right, especially in the springtime before peak season, and you’d be able to judge the consistency of the chopping and such because there was a fresh tomato corn salad that came with it. That was your rule when you came to judge restaurants, one main course, and one dessert.

You’d felt like the main courses were the true stars of the show anyhow, and it would be unfair to muck up your palate with an app that was usually something easy to get right (since they were usually fried, covered in cheese, or some kind of carb). And the dessert usually showed the restaurant's creativity, which you loved to see, so 2 dishes was your max.

The waitress returns with the cocktail, setting it down with a napkin under it. “Here you are, now- have you decided on a starter?” She questioned and you shook your head.

“Straight to the good stuff, I’d like the Chilean Sea Bass please. And for dessert,” you flick the page and your eyes settle on the words savory cannoli - hmm, imaginative indeed. “And uh- The Michael Cannoli?” You said, shutting the menu and handing it to her.

She nods with a smile, jotting down the order into her notepad before taking the menu and holding it to her chest. “That will be out soon as possible. Enjoy your drink” she said and headed back to the kitchen.

You sit back sipping the cocktail and humming. She was right, much like an old fashioned, but floral notes. Almost…chamomile? Yes! That was it. Very interesting.

You slipped your iPad out of your bag, opening up your journaling app and grabbing the pencil out of the little sleeve. You quickly snapped a picture with your phone of the drink, airdropping it to yourself and adding it into the entry and writing;

‘To start; ‘The Bear’ house cocktail- initial thoughts ; not too sweet, strong (but not overpowering), chamomile? Some kind of herbal tea flower’

You take another sip, letting the flavors sit on your tongue a moment before swallowing. “Mmm!” You hum to yourself, finally realizing where the herby taste beneath the chamomile was coming from that gave it that oaky piney taste.

‘Angostura bitters- will confirm!!’ You wrote just as someone approaches your table. You look up to see a man, short brown hair, stubble. He was smiling, holding a plate.

“Hello! Here we have Arancini with our house-made pesto, courtesy of Executive Chef Carmen” he placed the dish in front of you next to your iPad. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly, looking up at him, scarcel confused.

“Wrong table” you murmured, thumbing the dish back in his direction lightly. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Nope- ah, he- he said this table.” He replied. It did smell fantastic, and any other day you’d never deny delicious, deep fried balls of risotto dipped in smooth, decedent pesto- but you’re working right now and it’s not fair.

“Well, you can tell him” you lifted the dish, offering it back. “I have a system. And I’m unsure how he realized that I’m coming here, tonight, but I dislike cheaters. And he should know if he’s read my blog- I don’t muck up my palate with grease before I try the main course.” The plate was so close to him now it was nearly digging into his chest.

He nodded quickly, taking the plate without another word and briskly walking back to the kitchen. You sat back in your seat with a slight scoff.

He thinks he can win you over just like that? How did he even know you would be here?

You picked up your pencil once again, adding a note.

For the chef; Arancini smelt delicious. Didn’t order it, so I didn’t taste it . Presentation wise; 7/10. Pesto looked like it was spooned in the dish a tad bit messy to me.

You smiled to yourself, you knew he’d read the final review once it was posted. And since he wanted to be a little cheater and get a overall higher score since he was trying to weasel you into trying extra dishes- you’d kick his ego down a few extra pegs for fun.

You sat, nursing your drink, adding extra little notes here and there, as well as editing a blog post about Ghost Kitchens you’d been working on and how they were ruining the mobile order industry on the side. You were so engrossed in the work, that you hadn’t even realized someone had approached your table until they cleared their throat awkwardly.

Your gaze slowly travels up, seeing a blue apron covering a white shirt, tattooed hands holding- your meal? Your eyes flicker up to his piercing blue ones. “Chilean Sea Bass” he sets it in front of you. You snort a laugh.

“Hm.” You look around before back at him “These people” you motion to the restaurant. “Other patrons. Which meals of theirs did you bring out- Chef?” You accentuate the last word, it was all too uncommon for a chef to personally bring a meal out to a table.

You swore even in the ambient lighting, his cheeks flushed slightly. “You- uh- you declined, my Arancini. Why?” He asked, holding his hands behind his back, the position making his already toned and tattooed arms appear more muscular. It makes him all the more impressive he has all these tattoos and still made it in this industry. I can only imagine the shit he got for them.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise at his boldness. “Because that’s Cheating. Mr.Berzatto. I’d assume you know my work well. Considering you know what I look like, so- why try to cheat? You know how I feel about appetizers. It’s a scapegoat.” You shrugged, locking your iPad when you realized he’d been peeking at the notes.

“Messy” his eyes narrow. He scoffs a bit, alluding to the note you’d written a short while prior “Messy?” He asks again, you laugh a bit.

“Mmhmm! Oh, was it you chef? Wow…I mean- now that I think about it” you shook your head, now just messing with him since you see how much he was dying to impress you. “I could’ve sworn- the pesto it just..was too loose. Overblended maybe? That’s why it was impossible to plate without making a mess.” You shrugged, cutting up your fish carefully and spreading the vegetables with your knife to observe the cohesivity of the cuts.

He scoffs, “too- too loose?! W-y’know what. No. No. It- you’re gonna try it.” He demands and you look up at him, nearly laughing at the seriousness of his tone.

“That depends. Bring me a pesto worth trying and I’ll think about it. Now” you wave him off casually “I can’t work with the chef over my shoulder. So- Shoo chef don’t bother me” you teased and he shook his head.

“Game on.” He muttered, heading back to the kitchen.

You smiled to yourself, the Arancini absolutely isn’t going into the review. But you’ll humor his ego by trying it.

You cut the fish thoroughly, checking the texture and the evenness of the seasonings slathered on the skin, writing little notes as you go along. The cuts of the vegetables were pristine. Nearly perfect. The only misshapen pieces were clearly cosmetic defects of the vegetable. The chef that cut these was immaculate with a knife.

When you took your first bite, you nearly moaned. The fish was buttery, the skin was crispy, slightly spicy, tangy, the flesh melted in your mouth. The risotto was so cheesy and buttery and wonderful. You could eat this meal every night for the rest of your life and never get sick of it. It was the best Sea bass you’d ever tasted.

You opened your iPad again, jotting down notes about the flavors, the mouth feel, all the usual points you hit in your review.

This meal is a 9.2 out of 10.

You write at the bottom. Very fair score, you never had rated something as a 10. Something being a 10 would be- you don’t even know what it would be. But it would be what the score says, perfection. And while this dish was wonderful, and very very good- it was not perfect. At least to your heavily trained palate.

You finished what you wanted out of the meal, pushing the plate to the side and not soon after, Carmen was back at your table. He placed the plate in front of you, 3 perfectly circular Arancini discs were placed equal distance on the plate, and truly beautiful pesto, sat in the dish alongside it. It frankly was immaculately plated.

“Unbroken pesto. Sorry again, about the last one.” He said, watching you carefully. You hum as you grab your fork, splitting one of the discs and digging out some of the risotto.

“Could be firmer.” You said, eyes flicking to his. He nods, clearing his throat a bit.

“It’s not- uh- it’s”

“Fresh” you finished for him, raising your brows and he nods. “So- since you’re frying it. You cook it for about..a minute- maybe forty seconds less than you usually would.” You said, daintily taking the bite off your fork.

“Heard..” he nodded, waiting for your reaction. You hummed a bit.

“Great balance of parm and butter though. I’ll give you that. Neither overpowers the other, that’s hard to do considering the notes” you added, cutting up the crust and tasting it.

“Mm-“ you scrunch your nose and his face visibly drops. “Mm-mm…no- not peanut oil…why would you do that? It totally overpowers the breadcrumb with this like…cheapy taste. I’d say it would be way better if you fried it in sunflower oil” you added, digging out more of the risotto and dipping it in the pesto before having a bite and humming.

“This though” you point at the little dish of green sauce with your fork. “This is great.” You add and he nods.

“Ok-yeah…ok…” he nods, rubbing his hand over his chin. “Thank y’for trying it.” He said and you nod.

“I’ll be back for a fair assessment. I think I’ll pass on the cannoli tonight, and just get the bill. Thank you” you slipped your pencil in the case before putting your iPad in your bag and holding your hands on the table in front of you.

“Y-y’re coming back” he said, sounding slightly surprised.

You shrugged “well- you clearly want a full review based on your behavior tonight, Chef. So I’ll humor you. I won’t tell you when of course, so just pray that it’s a day like today-“ you paused, looking around. “Where things seem to be running…alright.” You sat back in your chair casually with a small smile.

“I look forward to your review.” He gave a nod and headed back to the kitchen.

It was 3 weeks before you’d decided to return back to The Bear spring had quickly turned to early summer, and you thought you’d given enough time for your little conversation with the head chef to slip his mind.

It was 9:20, 40 minutes before closing. You did promise to come back at a random time, and no time is more random then a Friday night less than an hour before the kitchen closed.

You pulled open the door, stepped in and headed up to the host stand where the same man that originally offered you the Arancini stood. “The picky critic returns.” He said, tapping his pen against the reservation book absentmindedly.

“She does” you smiled a bit.

“Well lucky f’you cousin said you get a table any time, right this way” he leads you to a booth near the back, where you had a perfect view of the restaurant. Much cozier then before, right next to the doors of the kitchen where you could hear the back of house crew buzzing about.

“Same cocktail as last time?” He asked and you raised your brows in slight surprise as you sit.

“No waitress?” You asked, getting comfortable and setting your iPad down next to the empty plate.

“She’ll be over, just figured a friendly offer couldn’t hurt” he said with a small smirk.

You roll your eyes playfully. “House cocktail please, and thank you. But don’t count on kindness boosting your hospitality score-“ you stop, realizing he never gave you his name.

“Richie” he said, sticking his hand out to shake.

“Richie.” You repeat, giving him your firm professional shake.

“House cocktail comin’ up” he said and headed back to the bar. You mulled over the menu, lemon chicken picatta, that sounded like a perfect dish to judge this time around.

A few minutes later, Richie returns, setting the glass down in front of you. “Waitress should be by momentarily, enjoy your meal” he said, heading back to the host stand.

A bit after the waitress came to take your order, the restaurant had begun to die down. You were going to be the last person served tonight it looked like, since in 5 minutes they would stop seating people.

You added additional notes to your section about the cocktail, getting a better photo of it for your blog when you hear a bit of commotion up front.

You look up, to see a woman with curled brown hair in navy blue scrubs, her hands on her hips, talking with Richie with a frustrated look. There were tears in her eyes, you couldn’t help but tune in to their conversation.

“Richie, please let me see him- he- he hasn’t said anything and I…I just need to hear him say it to my face. Please!” She begs, tears were streaming down her face now.

Richie looks around nervously, tugging her to the side so they weren’t standing right in front of the host stand. You lean over just a bit- not so much it would be noticeable, but enough your nosy ears could continue to pick up what was being said.

“Claire. You shouldn’t be here…I’m sorry- he told me-he said that..that you can’t come here anymore. It’s too much and he will apologize when he can find the words. But he can’t. So please before he sees you. Leave” he said softly, attempting to soothingly rub her arm and she jerks away like his touch burned her skin.

“Fuck you, Richie. Get him. Now. I’m not working on his time anymore. This is my time now. I’ve waited around enough for him. I’m done waiting. Either get him yourself? Or I swear to god I’ll go in that kitchen and embarrass the fucking shit out of him” she hissed.

Your eyebrows raised, shit. Whoever fucked her over should at least be warned.

He snorts, clearly amused before stepping back and raising his arms in defeat. “Have at it ClaireBear.” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You think he’s gonna take kindly to you startin’ w’him in his house? Be my guest.” He shrugged, going back over to the host stand.

And then it clicked. She’s here for Carmen.

She laughed dryly, sarcastically, like a woman who’d had it. “You think I’m scared? Richie? You think I’m scared of little Carmy who couldn’t even check out a library book by himself? mm?” She goads him, arms crossed, chest heaving with rage.

His head snaps back to look at her, brows raised in shock. “Kid- I really think you should go calm the fuck down, because Y’re not gonna like the way that this conversation ends w’him- at all.”

And with that, she shoves open the kitchen door. You couldn’t just sit there and not watch- this was the juiciest drama you’d ever been privy to in person, and this means he’s single. You slightly curse yourself for being so giddy that this means the sexy chef would likely be on the market.

Your foot catches the door before it closes, leaning against the frame. She storms in, eyes frantically darting over the kitchen.

“Carmen.” She barks, the entire kitchen stops moving and looks at her, as if they were in shock and awe someone would ever raise their voice to him in such a way.

He rounds the corner, holding a pan of focaccia dough that he nearly drops at the sight of her. He blinks a few times, squeezing his eyes shut as if she’d disappear when he opened them again.

“The fuck are you-“ his eyes meet yours, his face going pale quickly, he looked white as a sheet. “Leave.” He orders her, slamming the dough down on the counter.

“Leave?!” She laughs coldly, “you’re gonna tell me to leave?! You’re a fucking pussy Carmen. A pussy. Y’know- it was charity giving you a chance. Pity work.” She spits and you blink a few times, taken aback by such harsh words.

Is she serious? She thinks anyone could believe dating a super hot, ripped, talented, chef prodigy - that was charity work in any sense of the word?

He scoffs, “Charity?” He chuckled dryly. “Claire- you begged me to fuckin’ be with you! You-you-y’re a fuckin gnat! Claire! You- all you do is-is fuckin’-” he runs his hand through his hair, his chest heaving in anger, “You dont know me, Claire! Alright? There- And I-I-I don’t want you i’m-i’m sorry-”

She laughed, shaking her head, tears streaming down her face. “You-” she whispered, her chest shaking with a sob. “You- fucker- I- I gave you a chance…” she whispered and gripped her wrist sadly. “I- I was there for you, Carmen- when no one else could fucking stand you.” she croaked.

“And I never asked for you too- please- just…leave me alone-” he shook his head. “Leave. Please…just-pretend we never happened, it was a mistake, Claire.” he breathed, clearly utterly defeated, and It sounded like he’d told this girl these same words multiple times.

“M-Mikey would be sick- Carmy, he’d- he’d hate who you’ve become…” she said meekly, and with that- something behind his eyes snapped.

“Claire I’m not DOING THIS I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKIN’ RESTAURANT. WERE OVER. YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME! YOU MEAN NOTHING CLAIRE!” He roars, the veins in his neck popping out, angrily and aggressively pointing to the door. “OUT. get the fuck out. G-get out, b-before I-I-I fuckin- holy fuck” he finds his composure once more, even though his breath was still ragged from his outburst, flicking his hand next to him his entire body trembling with panic.

She looks to her left and right, she’s not that-

Your thoughts were quickly proven wrong, when you see she was stupid enough to grab a pan off the stove to whip at him.

“Aht!” the spanish woman standing a few paces to the right said, quickly grabbing the arm with the pan and twisting it behind her back. “Drop it.” she hissed.

Carmen looks between the two of them, utterly in shock. “Y-y’were gonna hit me?” He asked her, face twisting in rage. “Fuck you. Fuck you Claire.” He seethed, taking the pan from his employees grasp and tossing it in the sink with a loud clatter.

“Get the fuck out” you told her, grabbing her from the handle of the woman who’d stopped the assault, shoving her towards the kitchen door and into the front of the restaurant. “Y’re a fuckin crazy bitch.” You laughed dryly, giving her a hard shove for good measure.

“Oh and who are you” she straightened herself out, pushing her bag up on her shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. Glad to see that Carmy still needs someone to protect him. I’ll gladly give up that spot.” she said, causing you to laugh.

“Oh my god- you are pathetic. He just spelt it clear as day sweetheart- you are over. O-v-e-r. He doesn’t want you babe! And no, he doesn’t need my protection- I was enjoying dinner and apparently a show until you went batshit bitch.” You snip, plopping back down at your booth.

She scoffed “he doesn’t want anyone. The only thing he wants - is to remain miserable. Good fucking luck, whoever you are.” She said before stomping out.

“Yo she was really gonna throw somethin?” Richie asked as he walked over. Thankfully, it was just you, him, and the bartender in the front of the restaurant.

You nod “thankfully she didn’t realize I was there- Carmen would have had a nasty burn, and a concussion.” You said, taking a large sip of your drink.

Carmen comes out, eyes meeting yours immediately. “Fuck- I- don’t worry y’re meal is comped and don’t…don’t worry about a review, i’m sorry- I-I guess it wasn't in the cards f’r us to be featured on y’r blog... I’m really so sorry… Shes- ah..” he rubs his arm nervously, trying to find the words.

“A woman scorned” You teased, and he snorts a laugh, nodding a bit.

“Hell hath no fury, right?” He joked, sighing a bit. “It’s uh…it’s my fault I guess…I uh- I should’ve dealt with that…I've been putting it off” he said and you nod a bit.

“You off the clock?” you looked at your phone for the time, 10:07.

“Shit- fuck- sorry- I’m so sorry- give me like- I was making y’r food…and then-” you shook your head, stopping him.

“No- No…I was uh-Asking to see if you maybe wanted to..have a drink with me? Not-not like…professionally…” you shrugged, stirring your half full cocktail with the bar straw that floated in it.

“Sure- uh…sure- I’d like that lemme..lemme go change, i’ll be right out” he nodded, heading back into the kitchen.

157 notes · View notes

dresspheres · 3 months

Text

242 Icons | Neopolitan | RWBY

242 Icons for Neopolitan from RWBY Volume 9.

Please like or reblog this post if you plan on using the icons.

Credit me if you edit them! Otherwise, credit’s very much appreciated.

Download Here.

Preview

#RWBY #RWBY Icons #Neopolitan #Neopolitan Icons #Neopolitan (RWBY)#ec: heterochromia #hc: dual #hc: pink #hc: brown #female #light skin #age: adult

11 notes · View notes

bvtbxtch · 2 months

Text

White Knuckles and Red Hearts | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

a cute little (I don't know what this work means, the fic is 3.9k words) oneshot for valentines day <3 IT STILL COUNTS BECAUSE ITS FEBRUARY

You had been paired together in Home Ec. You were making eclairs. Everyone else in your class sneered at him, hoping - praying - that they wouldn’t have to be in the same workspace as the freak of Hawkins High. Sure, you didn’t jump for joy when you met him in your designated kitchen space, but you gave him a warm smile and introduced yourself. From that moment on, your name rang through his mind like church bells. His hands shook when the two of you measured ingredients, but you quickly put him at ease with your effortless friendliness.

“So, eclairs huh… have you ever made them before?” You smiled over the metal bowl filled with various dry ingredients.

“Ahh, can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. Don’t find a lot of fancy baking in the trailer park. But I did spend about 10 minutes in a French class before I was kicked out so I do know that it’s french.” Eddie jousted back with a dry laugh.

“That’s where I knew you from! Your face looked so familiar to me!” You giggled. Eddie’s cheeks bloomed a glowing red. Your smile grew and you peeled your eyes away from him to form your choux.

“You know, in French eclair means flash.” You babbled. Eddie could see your cheeks were turning a darker pink than the rouge already donning your apples. Eddie wanted to listen to you talk forever. “They say it’s because the glaze on the top of them… or because people eat them so quickly, they’re gone in a flash!” You both looked up and locked eyes. You suddenly felt shy. Stupid under the glow of the big brown doe eyes peering down at you. How the hell did anyone think that this person in front of you was a freak, was dangerous, wasn’t worth friends?

“Sorry, I’m babbling now.” You turned away to begin whipping cream while Eddie had begun to boil water.

“No, no! Babble away! You have interesting stories.” Eddie praised.

The rest of the afternoon flew by as the two of you laughed, stole spoonfuls of chocolate, and filled your delicate pastries with sweet cream. The bell dismissing the students from their last period of the day startled the two of you out of your dream world. You handed Eddie the last bowl that needed to be put away and wiped your wet hands on your jeans.

“Well, thanks for being a great home ec partner, Eddie. If we get to pick our people next time, we should work together again.” You smiled and squeezed his shoulder as you breezed past him to grab your backpack. You flashed him another smile and waved at the door. Eddie felt his knees buckle. You were beautiful; Eddie had noticed you at the beginning of the semester, in awe of how simple and easy you made beauty look. You weren’t popular by any means, but as a member of the drama club, you had a great group of friends. Eddie couldn’t imagine why you would want anything to do with him.

DnD wasn’t the same; Eddie’s mind was not fully immersed in the world he had created. Usually charismatic and intense, he was tripping on words, forgetting important details he had set up last session. His mind was transfixed on you. God, he felt pathetic. You were the first girl that wasn’t in Hellfire or wasn’t trying to get free weed from him to be nice to you. Was that all this was? Was he that pathetic that he was going to fall in love with any girl who was nice to him? Surely not. You were different. Not every girl had glowing eyes like you did; nor did they have such a friendly smile, and the slightest dusting of freckles across their cheeks like yours. They didn’t genuinely laugh at his jokes or touched his arm like you did. You weren’t petty or rude or hung out with him as a joke or-

“Dude!” A squeaky voice rang out, interrupting his daydreams of your interactions. “I rolled a 16 does that hit or not?!” Dustin Henderson was not a patient person on a normal day, but now, the third time he had to snap Eddie out of whatever coma he was in, he was rapidly growing angrier by the second.

“Uh- yeah.. How many hit points does it take?” Eddie mumbled.

Within 25 minutes, the whole Hellfire party had surrendered to their DM, ending the session 40 minutes before their scheduled end. With a frustrated huff, the gaggle of high schoolers exited the stuffy prop room and into the dim hallways.

February rain was not uncommon in Hawkins. It had caught you off guard though. In typical midwest fashion, the morning had started out mild and sunny. Now, at 5:45 when you were attempting to flee the grip of Hawkins High and make the 10 minute walk to the comfort of your own home, you were met with sleet and rain. You paused at the thick glass doors keeping you warm and dry and let out a long sigh that clouded the vision in front of you. You shrugged your shoulders and pushed through the doors into the cold, wet parking lot. You were kept warm by the thought of seeing an outlandish metalhead in the morning. You had to admit, you had been scared by Eddie Munson. His hard shell deterred many people away, but when you were given the opportunity to get to know him today, you penetrated right through to his soft center. You had to stay after school to direct for the one act festival next month, but like Eddie, your mind was transfixed on your home ec partner. You replayed your conversations in your head as you headed to the main street that dissected the community of little houses and the high school field. You shivered into your jean jacket, cursing the fact that your fashion choices weren’t practical at all for a rainstorm in February. Your eyes stayed glued to the pavement in fear that your face would freeze solid if you looked against the wind. Your hair stuck to the sides of your cheeks. You moved your legs as fast as they would carry you.

Eddie jogged out to his van, now covered in frosted rain drops. The short jaunt already had made his hair heavy with moisture and left a shiver in his spine. His engine lazily sputtered to life and he tore out of the school’s parking lot. He couldn’t wait to get home to pick up his guitar and write you forbidden love songs you would never hear. His headlights pelted through the thick, icy rain. God it was miserable. As he rounded the corner of yet another sleepy avenue, he slowed his van and pulled to the side of the road. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief as he stared at your hunched over figure fighting through the storm (and very obviously losing). He pulled his rusted van over to the sidewalk just ahead of where you were trudging. You stopped and squinted towards the rusty Chevrolet Astro and the curly haired driver that was looking at you with his beautiful, yet worried, eyes. You could see Eddie’s tongue poke out of his mouth as he reached over to the passenger side of his van to unlatch the door.

“Hey, Y/N! Are you okay?” The boy had to yell to be heard over the pelting rain and the rattle of his exhaust pipe. “Do you need a lift?”

Your heartbeat quickened and your cheeks grew warm. You smiled at him sweetly. “It’s okay, Eddie. It's only a few more blocks to my house.”

“Are you sure? It’s terrible outside. I really don’t mind!” You paused in contemplation. Did you know Eddie well enough to get into his van? Most of your friends would say no, but you felt like you’d known him for a long time. You felt safe around him. So you shrugged your shoulders and hopped into his van with a small ‘thank you’ leaving your lips. A sudden wave of bashfulness hit you after you gave Eddie approximate direction to your house.

“I-I usually just walk, you know? It was so nice this morning, but…” you ended in a curt giggle, and you couldn’t help but shake your head in embarrassment. It made Eddie’s dimples sprout on each of his cheeks, like you had seen for the first time this afternoon.

“Well a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be walking at all! Let alone in weather like this!” Fuck. His lips moved before his brain could catch up and stop him. His eyes grew double in size and it was his turn for his cheeks to turn a bold red. “Sorry I didn’t mean- I mean-”

“It's okay Eddie.” You turned your head away from him to stifle your grin. “I appreciate the ride”

It felt like no time before Eddie pulled up to your house.

“Thank you again, so much for the ride. That was so sweet of you.” That damned shoulder touch again. The warmth from the hand around his jean jacketed shoulder sent molten lava straight to his heart.

“Hey,” he choked. He ravaged his cluttered console for an old napkin and a sharpie. He hastily scribbled his digits on the napkin and shoved it towards you, eyes glued to his knees.

“Here, take this, just in case you get caught in this shit weather again.” He didn’t feel your fingers take the paper. He peered up at you, cheeks bright red and brown eyes bright with rejection already. “You know, I just-I don’t mind driving you, you know? It’s strictly just-” He was interrupted by your soft hand around his wrist.

“Eddie” you cooed as you took the wrinkled paper from his hand. “You are the sweetest. Of course I’ll take it. I really appreciate it.” Your eyes locked with him and you felt electricity surge from him to you. You released your grip with a blush and backed away from his van.

“Maybe I can call you about some home ec homework too?” Eddie thought his chest was going to burst out of his chest.

“Y-yeah, doll. That would be great.”

He watched to make sure you got into your house, and left only when you flashed him a smile and wave from your door. He drove home smitten, still smelling your perfume, feeling your warmth from the empty seat beside him. Blissful giggles escaped his lips.

The shrill ring of the telephone startled Eddie out of his daze and brushed through the cloud in his room to the hallway. He picked up the phone and answered with a lazy ‘hey’. His throat closed when he heard your voice peep on the other end of the line. \

“Hey, Eddie. I-is this a bad time?” Yes. Eddie thought. He was just starting to feel his buzz, now he felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

“No! No not at all! What’s up, Y/N?” His baritone voice went straight to the butterflies in your stomach. You took a deep breath to ground yourself. You could hardly believe what he was doing to you. Yesterday, Eddie was a stranger to you, someone that was interesting to look at, but you hadn’t dared interact with him - he was too cool for you.

“I-I’m so sorry to ask this… but I think I left my history textbook in your van from this afternoon. I am so sorry but is there any way I can come pick it up or you could-”

“Oh! Yeah I will bring it to you, no problem!” Eddie choked. Your stomach sank in excitement.

“Oh, great, thank you so much!”

“I’ll be there in 10” Eddie hung up the phone before you could let out another apologetic thank you. You bit at your nails in selfish excitement.

Eddie raced through the darkening streets of Hawkins. He remembered where you lived like the back of his hand: past the school three blocks, to the left, then take a right and you were almost at the end of the street. Luckily the storm His headlights pulled up to the sidewalk in front of your house, like he did earlier that afternoon. To his surprise, he saw the upstairs window on the second floor illuminated with your excited figure. You sheepishly slid the window open and crawled through it and shimmied down the ivied siding. You trotted up to Eddie’s unrolled passenger window.

“Hey, Eddie. Thank you so much!”

“No problem. Front door broken?” Eddie chuckled.

“Nah, strict parents make for sneaky kids.” You wagged your eyebrows at him. You boldly opened his passenger door and snaked into the seat. Eddie’s cheeks grew warm with yours as your bodies were now closer (but not as close as you both craved). He sheepishly handed you your textbook, which you pulled to your chest.

“Thanks, Eddie.” you peeped. A sudden burst of courage hit you, and although your hands felt numb, you took a breath and let the words escape your mouth. “I need to tell you, I don’t think that you’re crazy and weird like people say.” You dared to look into his soft, dark eyes. “I think you’re really sweet, and funny. And it really sucks that Hawkins is too small minded to see how great you are.” You leaned over and gave him a sweet peck on the cheek before hopping out of the passenger seat. Eddie wanted to pull you back to him, to grab your face and press his lips to yours; but he was frozen in shock. He would have never imagined you ever wanting to talk to him again, let alone thinking he was a good guy AND pressing your perfect pout to his cheek?

“Thank you again, Eddie, for driving all the way over here. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He mustered up the strength to break out of his daze. “Yeah, doll. I’ll see you then”

With silent smiles, Eddie watched you retreat back up the siding of your house back through your window, pausing to look back at him.

Eddie drove home with a smile plastered to his face.

The second week of February was filled with stolen glances in the busy hallways of Hawkins High. Your home economics classes flew by, papers being graffitied with notes and doodles passed between the two of you. Your dreams were filled with Eddie. Every second or third comment to your regular grouping of lunch buddies was something that the metalhead said or did or comments that reminded you of him; But you didn’t dare disturb him and his gaggle of Hellfire-clad freshmen; just like he knew he would warrant a death wish by coming to speak to you and your friends. So, you kept your little slice of heaven to blushing smiles, secret notes, and your home ec class.

When the two of you both found yourselves at school late (which both of you were finding more excuses, Eddie would offer to drive you home. You would sheepishly follow him through the parking lot and take (what Eddie will now permanently hope is) your spot in his rusty van. You were scared to admit it to Eddie, but it was easy for your own revelation: Eddie was very quickly becoming your comfort person.

February 14th was usually a day that reaffirmed that Eddie was destined for a life of loneliness in Hawkins, Indiana. Until, he pried open his overfull locker and was greeted with a small green note with his name neatly printed on it.

“Eddie. Thank you for being such a great person to be around. I hope you have a great day - just like the rest. You deserve them.”

Under the message, your name sat with a small heart scribbled next to it. Eddie’s cheeks burnt a furious red. His big brown eyes scanned the hallway desperately, hoping to spot your bouncy curls, or hear your infectious laugh; but to no avail. He trudged through the halls. He strode up to Chrissy Cunningham and her gaggle of cheerleaders - your normal crowd.

“Hey Chrissy.”

“Oh- uh, Eddie?” The metalhead could tell that he had caught the girl off guard.

“Sorry, don’t mean to bother you in your natural habitat” the girls shifted uneasily. “But do you know where Y/N is? I need to talk to her… about home ec homework.” He wavered over his lie, and Chrissy caught the note grasped tightly in his hand.

“I haven’t seen her yet today.” The girl gave a polite but curt answer. The group dissipated, but Chrissy offered a light touch on his shoulder. “When I see her, I’ll let her know you need to talk to her.” With her words ringing in his ear, and the shrill warning of the morning bell, Eddie was alone in the hallway with his lovestruck mind. He decided to do what he did every time he was in crisis: go to the bleachers and make himself forget about all the shit that was worrying him. He spent the morning outside, but by the end of the day Eddie had spent his time either thinking about you, or tracing every inch of the school looking for you.

You had stayed home, school feeling less than ideal today. You had stuffed the note in Eddie’s locker at the end of the day - opting to stay even later than he did and walked yourself home. You didn’t sleep all night, and could barely get any food down today. Would he understand? You were only bold enough to make a move in subtleties. Would he care?

Eddie gripped his steering wheel with white knuckles. It was a drive that he wished was both over already and would never end. It was a short drive to your house from Forest Hills Trailer Park. Eddie had called Hellfire off and beelined out of the school when he found out you hadn’t shown up at all. He felt he had paced a trench in his bedroom floor debating whether or not he should go to your house. What if the letter was a mistake? Or if you were only reaffirming you only liked him as a friend? When the clock hit 9:30pm, he couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed his keys from the hook by the door and trotted down the concrete steps. When the van rumbled to a start, he turned the radio fully off, too tempted to be absorbed in his own thoughts. The streetlights of your neighborhood illuminated the small red heart box and the humble bouquet of roses that sat where you normally did. Eddie chewed on his lip so hard he thought he tasted blood. His brakes squealed to a halt on the sidewalk outside of your tidy little house. He had hoped that the light in your bedroom would be off, so he could wimp out and go home and hide in his bed forever. But his heart skipped an excited beat when he saw the light in the window you had crawled out of a week ago was on, and it illuminated your figure moving through your room.His breath caught in his throat as he turned the key in his ignition and grabbed his wares to begin his journey up the ivy siding to your window.

You had hid yourself away in your room - cassettes, VCRs and books being your welcome distraction from your anxious heart. A tap on your window pulled you from Madonna’s breathy whines about living in a material world. Your heart dropped to your knees when you saw a mop of dark ringlets framing an alabaster face. Eddie’s eyes were wider than you have ever seen them, but filled with an unreadable haze. You rushed to the window and let the boy fall into your room. He straightened himself up with a nervous smile, you returned the sentiment. His hands stayed fixed behind his long body. He shifted his weight, but couldn’t help but inch closer to you as well.

“Hey” he peeped

“Hi, Eddie. What are you-”

“I-uh. I got your note.”

Your breath hitched and it was your turn to shift your weight. The spot on your carpet was suddenly too tempting to look at than Eddie’s face. His hands obscured his vision. In them you saw a small red box, and flowers. You looked up at Eddie with confused excitement; his face was warm, cheeks blushing.

“I looked for you all day at school today because I wanted to ask you if you’d be my-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you threw yourself into his arms. Your cheek could feel the pounding in his chest and he stood in shock.

“Of course I will, Eddie.” You breathed into him. You pulled yourself away from him and took the flowers from his hand. You placed them on your desk with a giggle. You turned to see the open box that Eddie had in his hand. In it laid a small chain with a pink and purple guitar pick. You gasped in awe and your eyes filled with tears.

“I thought, since I have one-” he pulled a red and black pick on a chain out of his Dio tee. “We could kind of match.” Eddie’s voice shook. His cheeks matched the red on his own necklace. You pulled him to you and pecked your plumped lips against his cheek. Eddie chuckled as he spun you to put your new favorite piece of jewelry on you. Eddie clasped the metal and ran his hands down your arms.

“Let me take you on a date, please?” He whispered. His hands sent shivers throughout your body. His lips pursed on the top of your head and you wished you could stay in this moment forever. You turned in his arms and draped yourself around his neck. His arms migrated from your arms to your cheeks. His doe eyes were dark with admiration, he wanted to devour you whole, but he waited, silently asking for permission to press his lips to yours. You silently obliged him and tilted your chin up to him. His soft lips met yours and the world slowed. His thumb traced small grounding circles on your jaw. Your insides filled with molten, a desperation for the moment to never stop. Eddie’s soft lips probed yours, lightly asking for permission to deepen your kiss. You permitted him with a content sigh and let Eddie show you just how much he really cared about you. All of the words he was too afraid to say to you, all of the times he wished that he could sweep you off your feet and kiss you in front of everyone. For the thank you he couldn’t give you for the note you left him. For the times he wanted to ask you out in his van, or the time he desperately wanted to tuck your wet hair behind your ear the first day he drove you home. He poured all his heart out to you and you felt it. You pulled away softly with wet eyes.

“Eddie, I would be honored.”

Taglist: @eddies-acousticguitar @mmunson86 @sadbitchfangirl @hideoutside @anxiousobserver @ali-r3n @brinleighsstuff @filth-fiction-archive @vintagehellfire @kirstinjayjay @darknesseddiem @poofyloofy @sluggzillaa @aol19 @dark-angel-is-back @keikoraven @emxxblog @adrenalineeerevolver @crybabyddl @lovemegood @cherry-pop3547 @cozmiccass @leelei1980 @trixyvixx @skylar-ish-meh @harrysgothicbitch @emsgoodthinkin @micheledawn1975 @thehuntresswolf @girlwiththerubyslippers @blueberry-lemon

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson ff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson edit #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson brainrot #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fic #eddie munson ficlet #carly writes

145 notes · View notes