Chapter Text
Bridget Hearts was a woman on a mission—and that mission was called drag my daughter back from the edge.
She stormed through the lot like royalty on a warpath, silk blouse tucked into high-waisted pants, designer sunglasses perched on her head like a crown. Everyone in her path parted like the Red Sea. They knew better.
Her heels clicked up the trailer steps with practiced fury, one hand already raised to knock—or more likely, pound.
She didn’t get the chance.
Because at that exact moment, Red opened the door from the inside.
On time.
Fully dressed.
And somehow—by a miracle known only to makeup wipes and sheer audacity—she looked good.
Red stood in the doorway in black cargo pants, a fresh hoodie, her hair loose but brushed, sunglasses already in place. No smudged eyeliner, no smeared lipstick, no visible shame. Her bruised knuckles were bandaged, her jaw set with that perfect blend of don’t test me and watch me anyway.
Bridget blinked.
“You’re awake,” she said.
“Yup,” Red replied cheerfully, stepping past her mom like nothing had happened. “And on time. Weird, right?”
“You—” Bridget started.
Red didn’t stop walking. “Gotta go, Mom. Can’t keep the council candidate waiting.”
Bridget turned on her heel to follow, still fuming. “You broke a man’s nose. You trended worldwide. TMZ sent me a goddamn fruit basket.”
Red didn’t even flinch. “Tell them I’m allergic to pineapple.”
Across the lot, Chloe stood outside the makeup trailer, sipping her coffee and watching the whole thing unfold like it was a red carpet premiere.
Her eyes flicked over Red.
And yeah.
She looked annoyingly good.
“Is she glowing?” Jake muttered beside her.
“She should be hungover.”
“She looks smug.”
“She always looks smug.”
Red met Chloe’s eyes as she passed. No words. Just a smile—small. Knowing. Infuriating.
Chloe turned back to Jake, jaw tight.
“I’m going to kill her.”
Jake sipped his coffee. “Cool. Do it on camera. That way it’s canon.”
Red strolled into hair and makeup like she hadn’t trended on every gossip site in existence twelve hours ago. She had a bounce in her step, sunglasses perched perfectly on her nose, and the kind of smug little grin that screamed I know exactly what I’m doing and I’m going to keep doing it anyway.
Audrey looked up from cleaning brushes and froze.
Her jaw didn’t drop, but it was a near thing.
“I was expecting you late,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “And looking like my worst recurring nightmare.”
Red smirked, sliding into the chair like she owned the place. “Aw, Auds, you wound me.”
Audrey blinked. “How the fuck do you look like you’ve been up for six hours meditating when you were throwing punches in fishnets twelve hours ago?”
“I’m a professional,” Red replied innocently, kicking her legs up on the makeup counter. “Also, water, electrolytes, and a little witchcraft.”
“Is the witchcraft name-brand or street-grade?”
Red just smiled.
Audrey set her brush down and pointed. “I swear to God, if you upstage Chloe today, she’s going to poison your lip gloss.”
“Joke’s on her,” Red said. “I already kissed worse.”
From the doorway, Chloe’s voice cut through like a knife. “You’re loud this morning, Hearts.”
Red didn’t even flinch. “You’re just not used to hearing someone happy.”
Chloe stepped inside, arms crossed. Her makeup wasn’t started yet, but she already looked ethereal—icy, regal, and entirely over Red’s nonsense.
Audrey wisely slid the chair divider between them.
Chloe raised a brow. “You trended worldwide last night and decided to show up early. That’s either PR genius or psychosis.”
Red removed her sunglasses, revealing red-tinted contacts already in. Her grin widened. “Why not both?”
Chloe stared at her.
Red winked.
Audrey just sighed. “If I have to call security to break up a mascara wand duel, I’m charging extra.”
The trailer door creaked open again, and Maddox stepped in with the energy of someone who had fought death in the parking lot and barely made it out alive.
His hoodie was wrinkled, sunglasses crooked, and his expression could only be described as so done.
He squinted at Red, who was now halfway through getting her eyeliner done and chatting with Audrey like she hadn’t shattered the internet less than a day ago.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Maddox muttered.
Red turned in the chair, her grin spreading wide. “Well good morning to you too, sunshine.”
Maddox dropped into the chair across from her and pointed at her like she was a cursed object.
“Whatever you had? I want it too. Because how the hell are you in a better state than me?”
Red beamed, unbothered. “Magic smoothie.”
“Bullshit.”
“Tomato juice,” she added. “With lemon. And a pinch of chili powder.”
Maddox narrowed his eyes. “You’re sober, right?”
Red held his gaze and nodded. “Yes.”
A pause.
He kept looking at her, longer than he needed to. Reading. Listening. Quietly worrying like he always did.
Finally, he sighed and leaned back. “Tomato juice,” he muttered. “This bitch.”
Audrey snorted. “I’m putting that on a t-shirt.”
Red wiggled her fingers at Maddox. “You’re welcome.”
“Next time you spiral, drag me to the smoothie bar first,” he said. “Instead of the bar bar.”
Red shrugged. “You’re the one who let me talk you into shots.”
“You said, and I quote, ‘let’s create a core memory.’”
“It was memorable.”
Maddox groaned and pulled his hood over his head.
Chloe, from the makeup divider, muttered, “Some of us are trying to maintain a professional image.”
Red grinned. “That sounds exhausting.”
Audrey smirked behind her brush. “Ladies. You’re about to go pretend to fall in love. Try not to kill each other before lunch.”
The door swung open again, and Dizzy burst into the trailer like she had sprinted the whole way from wardrobe.
She looked directly at Red—who was now getting her hair sectioned and curled like it was just another Tuesday—and froze.
Her mouth opened.
Then closed.
Then opened again.
She stared. Pointed. Blinked.
“Okay,” Dizzy said finally, voice rising an octave. “Did the tabloids lie? Did you send a decoy out last night? Or did I slip into a parallel universe? Because there is no way you’re real.”
Red didn’t even blink.
“Magic smoothie,” she said simply.
Audrey snorted. “She’s sticking to that.”
Dizzy dropped her bag on the counter and crossed her arms. “Girl, you trended four different hashtags, made someone bleed, possibly seduced half the club, and now you’re in my trailer looking like a perfume ad.”
Red raised a brow. “Thank you?”
“No. I’m mad,” Dizzy said, stepping closer and narrowing her eyes. “Like scientifically offended. You’re supposed to be puffy and sweaty and begging for sunglasses. Instead, you’re glowing like you did a damn moon ritual.”
Red shrugged, too smug to care. “Maybe I did.”
Maddox, still half-dead in his chair, muttered, “I was there. It was not a moon ritual. It was tequila and poor life choices.”
Chloe, voice flat from the other side of the makeup divider: “And apparently a smoothie.”
Dizzy looked between all of them, defeated.
“You know what? Fine. Whatever. But if I come in tomorrow looking like roadkill and you’re still walking around like a Pinterest board, I’m going to scream.”
Red leaned back in her chair, grinning. “Make it a high note. We’ll sample it for the album.”
Dizzy chuckled, shaking her head, already regretting stepping into this room.
Red grinned like she’d just won something. “So what I hear, Dizzy,” she said, voice full of trouble, “is that tonight, we go out, I make you regret every decision you’ve ever made, and tomorrow morning, I introduce you to my magic smoothie.”
Dizzy blinked. “That’s what you got from this conversation?”
Red nodded, dead serious. “Yup.”
“You broke a man’s nose last night.”
“And still showed up looking like a cursed Dior ad. Imagine what we could do together.”
Maddox groaned from the corner. “No. Absolutely not. Dizzy, don’t fall for it. That way lies tequila and questionable tattoos.”
“One questionable tattoo,” Red corrected, holding up her hand with a little smirk. “And it’s cute. It’s a gremlin.”
Dizzy laughed, but her eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Okay but, hypothetically… what’s in this magic smoothie?”
Red leaned in, conspiratorial. “Tomato juice, lemon, chili powder, one ice cube, and pure spite.”
“...Spite?”
“Exactly two shots of it,” Maddox said dryly. “She bottles it fresh.”
Red winked. “I’m an artist.”
Dizzy groaned but smiled. “Fine. You win. One drink tonight. One. And if I’m dead tomorrow, you’re paying for my cremation.”
“Deal,” Red said immediately.
“You didn’t even hesitate.”
“I’ve already picked the urn.”
Audrey pointed a brush between them. “If either of you show up looking like roadkill, I’m gluing rhinestones to your foreheads and making you work through it.”
Red raised her hand. “I will rhinestone through pain.”
Maddox sighed. “This is my life.”
Red leaned back in her chair, the smirk already forming before the words even left her mouth.
“What about you, Audrey?” she asked sweetly, spinning her makeup brush between her fingers like a dagger. “Wanna let go for once? Make some stupid life decisions? Maybe… drunk text Chloe’s brother again?”
Dizzy choked.
Maddox sat bolt upright like someone had just dropped ice down his back.
Chloe’s chair went dead silent behind the divider.
Audrey’s hand froze mid-stroke over Red’s cheekbone.
Then, very slowly, she turned and looked at Red with a perfectly blank face. “Say that again.”
Red just grinned wider. “I said, let’s go out. You, me, Dizzy. Get a little feral. Look like a magazine cover in the morning and, who knows, maybe text someone we shouldn’t.”
Dizzy was cackling now, half hiding behind a costume bag.
“Oh my god,” she wheezed. “You did not just bring up the brother.”
Audrey set her brush down with exaggerated calm. “First of all,” she said, pointing at Red, “I was very tipsy. Second of all, it was one message. And third—”
“—he texted back,” Red cut in, smug as hell.
Audrey glared. “Do you want your eyebrows to match Elora’s contour?”
Red gasped. “That’s a threat.”
Chloe’s voice finally drifted from the other side of the divider, cool and crisp like a snowflake cutting through flame.
“If anyone texts my brother, drunk or otherwise, I will call security.”
Red leaned around the divider, eyes sparkling. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Maddox buried his face in his hands.
Audrey pinched the bridge of her nose. “I swear to god, if we all go out tonight, this movie will never recover.”
Red grinned. “So that’s a yes?”
Audrey didn’t answer.
But she didn’t say no.
Red leaned a little closer in the makeup chair, her grin downright dangerous now.
“But come on, Audrey,” she purred. “What about you and Chad Charming, by the way?”
Audrey froze mid-blush application.
“Are you two dating again? Still on a break? Or is it, like, one of those romcom cycles—you break up this month just to start dating again next month?”
Dizzy gasped, hand over her mouth.
Maddox slowly slid a bottle of water toward Audrey like it might help contain the impending firestorm.
“Or—” Red added, chin resting in her hand, expression far too innocent, “—has the Ice Princess finally scared you away from her brother? Because honestly? I’d get it.”
Audrey blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then she set her blush brush down, slowly and with surgical precision. “Do you want me to glue your lashes on backward?”
Red wiggled her fingers. “Oooooh, touchy.”
“You have some nerve,” Audrey said, but her tone was all mock outrage now, the twitch of a smile tugging at her mouth. “Especially coming from someone who can’t spend five minutes near Chloe without passive-aggressively flirting like it’s a competitive sport.”
“Who’s flirting?” Chloe’s voice came sharp and cold from the other side of the divider.
“Oh no,” Dizzy whispered, delighted. “She heard that.”
Red beamed. “I hope she heard that.”
Audrey turned back to the mirror, applying highlighter like it was war paint. “For the record, Chad and I are on a healthy break.”
Dizzy stage-whispered, “That means she’s mad but still using his Netflix.”
Red snorted.
Audrey pointed her brush at her. “Say one more word, Hearts, and you’re getting ‘accidental’ glitter brows.”
Maddox, still recovering from his hangover, just groaned. “Can we all agree to never date Charming family members again? Ever?”
Red lifted her brow. “What, even Jake?”
Audrey narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you dare—”
“I wouldn’t!” Red laughed. “I respect Chloe’s boundaries.”
“You don’t respect anything,” Chloe said flatly.
Red leaned back, still grinning. “Except the chaos. And Dizzy’s stitching.”
Dizzy gave her a proud fist bump.
From the other side of the divider, Chloe sighed loud enough to cut through the laughter.
“Also,” she said, cool and composed, “Jake isn’t a Charming. He’s just… often at my place.”
Audrey froze with her lipstick brush mid-air.
Dizzy covered her mouth with both hands.
Red?
Oh, Red grinned.
“No worries, Princess,” she purred. “We know he’s not a Charming… yet.”
A beat.
Then she leaned in toward the mirror, eyes dancing with mischief.
“But I have seen last month’s tabloids. People are starting to notice how close you two are.”
Maddox choked on his water.
Audrey dropped her brush and backed away like she wanted no part in the incoming storm.
From the other side of the divider, Chloe’s voice dropped half an octave. Icy. Lethal. Dangerously even.
“That is not funny, Hearts.”
“Oh, come on,” Red said, spinning in her chair just enough to speak around the divider, her tone bright and wicked. “It’s a little funny. Chloe Charming and her not-Charming constant companion? It’s practically fanfiction bait.”
“I will end you.”
“Will you?” Red grinned. “Or will you keep calling me by my last name like it’s foreplay and pretending your best friend isn’t your emotional support boy?”
A sharp gasp from Dizzy.
Audrey walked to the far side of the trailer, muttering, “Nope. I’m not getting involved in this murder-suicide arc.”
There was a long pause.
Long enough to feel.
Then Chloe replied, voice low, dangerous, and smooth as silk:
“Careful, Hearts. You’re not the only one who can make headlines.”
Red’s grin didn't fade—but something behind her eyes shifted. Just slightly.
A challenge.
Accepted.
Maddox groaned into his hoodie. “I miss when you two hated each other quietly.”
Dizzy whispered, “This is quiet. You should hear them when no one’s watching.”
Red sat back in her chair, eyes glinting, that little smirk refusing to fade.
She tapped her fingers against the armrest, voice light but loaded.
“She didn’t deny it though,” she said, just loud enough.
The room stilled again.
Then Red turned toward Maddox with mock seriousness, hand to her chest like she was delivering terrible news.
“You hear that, Maddie?” she said. “You’ve got competition for Jakey-boy’s attention.”
Maddox didn’t even look up. “I will throw this coffee at you.”
Dizzy was wheezing now, half behind the wardrobe rack, whispering, “She’s gonna kill you. She’s literally going to kill you.”
Red grinned wider, absolutely unbothered. “Let her. I’ll go out as I lived—loud, petty, and in flawless eyeliner.”
Chloe, still behind the divider, exhaled slow and sharp. “You are delusional.”
Red leaned around the divider again, resting her chin on her hand.
“Maybe,” she said, voice soft and smug. “But I’m not wrong.”
Audrey threw her brush down like it was a grenade and walked toward the door. “Okay, I’m calling for early lunch before one of you ends up trending again.”
Maddox got up too. “Can’t believe I came back from the dead for this.”
As the others filed out, Dizzy shot Red a look—a mix of why are you like this and also please never stop.
Chloe was the last to rise from her chair, back perfectly straight, gaze fixed ahead.
But just before stepping out the door, she turned her head—just enough to let her eyes meet Red’s for half a second.
Not cold.
Not angry.
Charged.
“I don’t need to deny anything,” she said quietly. “Because unlike you, I don’t perform for an audience.”
Then she walked out.
And for once, Red didn’t have a comeback.
Just a heartbeat too long of silence.
Then she smiled to herself.
Because damn.
That was a good line.
Red flopped back onto the trailer couch, boots still on, hair still half-pinned from makeup, and zero interest in boundaries or peace.
Her phone buzzed with a dozen unread notifications.
She opened Twitter.
Smirked.
And typed.
@RedHeartsOfficial
hey guys. let’s start a shipping war.
princess & jakey boy
or
maddie & jakey boy
discuss.
She hit send.
Tossed the phone on the cushion beside her.
And waited.
She didn’t have to wait long.
@gremlinupdates: OH SHE’S DOING THIS ON PURPOSE
@elora4queen: NOT RED SHIPPING CHLOE WITH JAKE—girl you’re gonna die
@maddieXjake_truthers: WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT
@spicygremlin88: this is a distraction. she’s deflecting. SHE’S INTO CHLOE
@gremlinqueen69: Red really said: 'if I'm going down, I’m taking you all with me'
Somewhere across set, Chloe’s phone buzzed.
She checked the screen.
Read the tweet.
And immediately called Jake.
“You need to stop letting her tweet.”
Jake, already halfway through a sandwich, just laughed. “You’re trending again. Congrats.”
“This isn’t funny!”
“Oh, it is,” Jake replied. “And also, you didn’t say which ship you’re voting for.”
“Goodbye, Jake.”
Click.
Back in her trailer, Red smiled to herself.
Because chaos was a language.
And she was fluent.
The "Go Live" button had barely finished loading before Red’s face filled the screen—red hair slightly windblown, eyes glowing from her signature contacts, that mischievous grin already locked and loaded.
She flipped the camera, showing the set lot behind her.
“Alright, gremlins,” she said, walking backwards with alarming confidence. “We’ve started something very important this morning—possibly the most important debate of our time.”
The live chat exploded instantly.
@red4chaos: SHE’S BACK. SOUND THE ALARM.
@dramaelf: DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH CHLOE AGAIN
@jakeinleather: don’t drag Jake into this pls he’s just trying to live
Red spun around a corner, eyes locking on her target.
“JAKEY BOY!”
Jake, sitting quietly on a bench with a drink and a granola bar, looked up like a man who’d just sensed the incoming storm.
He blinked. “No.”
Red cackled and marched straight up to him, flipping the camera so both of their faces were in frame.
“I need your help settling a very serious debate in the comments.”
Jake groaned. “Red, I swear—”
“Who do you think would make a better couple,” she said, grinning from ear to ear, “you and Princess, or you and Maddie?”
The live exploded.
@shipwars2025: RED. STOP.
@maddiejake4life: SHE SAID IT. SHE REALLY SAID IT.
@chloewatching: CHLOE IS ABSOLUTELY GOING TO MURDER HER.
@whosjakey: why does Jake look like he wants to be anywhere else
Jake took a long sip of his drink.
Paused.
Looked dead into the camera.
“I think I’d rather date the smoothie.”
Red lost it—doubling over laughing while Jake calmly returned to his snack like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb.
“Oh my god,” she wheezed. “You’re getting better at this.”
Jake smiled faintly. “I’ve been around you too long.”
From somewhere off-screen, Maddox yelled, “LEAVE ME OUT OF IT!”
Red flipped the camera back to herself. “He says that now, gremlins. But you saw the eye contact.”
Jake sighed. “Please log off.”
“I will not.”
Red was still laughing when it happened.
She had the camera tilted just right, Jake’s unimpressed face still visible in the corner, her chat blowing up in real time with ships, emojis, and chaotic fan theories.
And then—
“HEARTS. GET YOUR ASS READY FOR THE SCENE.”
Uma’s voice rang out across the lot like thunder—commanding, sharp, and very, very done with Red’s nonsense.
Red froze.
Dead still.
Eyes wide.
Jake slowly turned his head toward her, smirking. “That sounded personal.”
Red blinked at the camera, suddenly very aware she was still live. “Well,” she said with a grin, “that’s my cue, gremlins.”
She did a quick peace sign. “See you all later—if I survive.”
And with that, she ended the stream.
There was a moment of silence.
Then she looked at Jake. “How bad do you think it is?”
“You’re trending again and Uma sounds like she’s considering a murder charge,” Jake replied. “So… somewhere between ‘lecture’ and ‘exile.’”
Red nodded solemnly. “Worth it.”
And then she turned and ran.
Because the scene was waiting.
And so was Elora.
