Tara Carpenter X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Falling (T.Carpenter x F!Reader)

Warnings: Suggestive smut, light angst

Notes: This has been sitting in my drafts for a while along with a bunch of other shit.

Word Count: 480

Beautiful. Lovely. Gorgeous. Stunning.

Those are all of the words that appear in Tara's brain every time she sees you. She wishes she could have you, all to herself, but that's just selfish, but she doesn't care. She wants you, needs you, craves you.

Every time you walk in a room her eyes always find their way to you. Almost like they're attached to you, like you're a magnet and always find a way to draw her in. Even if you're just standing still, not doing a thing, her eyes will be drawn to you.

The way your eyes look in the light, how they glow, how they soften when you look down at her, how they look like they have little stars in them. She loves how your face softens when you're sleeping, whenever she glances at your sleeping form on your desk, she can't help but stare and smile a little. You look so peaceful, like you wouldn't hurt a fly. She loves how you're just a little taller than her, tall enough to look down at her.

She can only imagine how you'd look on top of her, pining her to her bed and gazing down at her.

She's taken a liking to the way you walk, it isn't forced, more relaxed than most, and full of confidence that not a lot have. Oh! The way you talk just has her entire body racing and heating up. The way you say her name has her stomach doing flips and filling with butterflies. Whenever you call her name, she can't help but short circuit just a little.

She wants to hear you call her name when she pleases you. She wants to hear how you'd sound whining, begging and pleading to her.

You're doing something to her and you don't even know it. Especially when your hands are visible and you call her over using your index and ring finger. It makes her think and wonder, how would your fingers feel inside of her. Curling in her and just fucking her dumb with just your fingers. How it would feel to have your fingers down her throat, your hand around her neck, grabbing her jaw to make her look at you and your fingers gripping her hair. But she also likes how soft they are, how they feel grazing against her own.

She needs you, bad. The more she thinks about you, your eyes, face, hands, hair, everything. The more she falls and falls and falls until one day she'll land. Hopefully in your arms and not on the ground watching as you walk away with someone that isn't her.

She wants to tell you but she's scared, fearing the rejection and aftermath of it all. So, all Tara can do is watch and admire from afar. Hoping that one day, she'll be brave enough to tell you.

bad dreams ii

Summary: Tara was so used to you coming to save her from the nightmares and fear. Now it seemed it was time for her to return the favour.

Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, set after Scream VI (extremely vague spoilers) Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (bad dreams?)

Tara woke with a start. Her eyes flew open and air rushed back into her lungs like she had been drowning for a century. But she immediately squeezed her eyes shut again when the lights finally blinded her, shooting a pain through her brain.

"Fuck," she mumbled before rubbing her eyes, trying to ease the sleepiness and headache at the same time.

Once she eased her eyes open again, she pushed herself into a sitting position and took in her surroundings. Every single light and lamp in the room was turned on, including the nightlights that were plugged into each outlet. A safety bar was locked against the window in two separate places. The door to the room was open and she could see the hallway light was on as well.

"Baby?” She asked as she reached out to your side of the bed.

It was cold and empty.

“Baby?” She called again, a little louder. There was no sound of movement, no indication of where you had gone.

With a shaky exhale, she pushed the covers down her legs and planted her feet on the ground. She silently thanked you for buying the rug to keep her feet warm during the colder months. Not that it mattered much when she stepped onto the cold wooden floor a moment later, but it still made it a little more bearable.

With more hesitation than she was comfortable with, she peeked her head through the doorway and into the hall. Every light was on, which she had been aware of, but there was still no one to be seen. Sam was out with her boy toy so the only ones who should have been present were you and her.

Which meant you were missing.

She took in a few deep, slow breaths, trying to build up the courage to step out into the hall. It took too long, and her own hesitance brought tears of frustration to the brim of her eyes, but she finally forced herself to walk down the hall and into the living room.

Those tears spilled over when she saw you sitting against the far wall, eyes wide and watching every entrance and exit of the apartment.

You still had a few stitches above your eye and peeking out from the collar of your shirt. Thankfully the infection had eased, for the most part, but the wounds still looked agitated. It was clear you were in pain by the way you sat stiffly and grimaced with every other breath.

The wooden baseball bat you had brought all those weeks ago - now stained with blood - rested in your lap as your hands gripped the handle so tightly your bruised knuckles paled. Your eyes flickered back and forth between every window, door, and hallway; looking, but not seeing anything. And it broke Tara’s heart.

“Baby?” She said softly, hoping to not startle you out of your anxiety-driven vigilance. It didn’t really matter, you still flinched anyway.

“Doors are locked,” you said in a scratchy voice.

“I know,” she said as she took slow, deliberate steps over to you. “Thank you for locking them.”

“Phones are off,” you continued, not really looking at her. She finally got close enough to sit down beside you, being careful not to jostle you.

“That’s smart,” she said, keeping her eyes on your face. You looked utterly exhausted.

“Is this what you went through in Woodsboro?” You asked, finally turning to look at her even just for a moment.

She hated hearing the name Woodsboro. Hated all the feelings it evoked within her, all the aches it forced back into her skin and heart. Nothing good came from Woodsboro, and nothing good came from talking about it. So she wanted to tell you that no, it wasn’t, because Woodsboro didn’t matter.

But it did matter, and after the destruction and violence you had been thrust into, you deserved to know. You deserved to know that yes, it is what she went through in Woodsboro. Much like you, she had been stabbed and attacked and used as in Ghostface’s sadistic game. Now you both wore the scars like badges of survival in a game you had never wanted to be a part of.

“It is,” Tara finally said softly. You nodded subconsciously and looked back around the room.

“It sucks,” you said, causing both you and Tara to let out nervous chuckles.

“Yeah it does,” she agreed. “We probably need… so much therapy.”

Your nervous chuckle turned into a watery laugh that died off into slight hyperventilation before fading into nothing more than the occasional sniffle. The colour was slowly returning to your knuckles and, even though the colour was bruised, at least it meant you were easing up.

“Why are you awake?” You asked. Tara shifted a bit before leaning into your side; you quickly wrapped an arm around her shoulder to hold her close.

“I’m always awake at-” she looked at her watch; 2:36am “-2:30 in the morning.”

“It’s not 2:30,” you answered with a small smile.

“I had a bad dream,” she said with a shrug. Her fingers brushed lightly over the bandage still covering your hip. “Why are you awake?”

“I had a bad dream,” you said.

“Wanna talk about it?” Tara asked.

You stayed silent, which was about what she had expected. But you pulled her closer anyway, inhaling sharply when she pressed against another wound, but you didn’t let go. Your fingers ceaselessly rubbed patterns on her shoulder, so much so that she thought you were going to rub the skin off.

“My mom said she could teach us some self defense,” you said, changing the subject. Tara wasn’t going to argue. “Made sure to let me know we probably could’ve avoided getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, I’d like to see her take down Ghostface,” Tara grumbled, and you chuckled in return.

She liked your mom, she really did. The woman was an ex-marine and impressive as hell. But she was also cocky; not just confident, full on cocky. That in itself had its ups and downs, but in this situation? That was the last thing she wanted to hear.

“I told her yes,” you said after a moment’s silence. “It’s not like it would hurt anything.”

“Besides my pride,” Tara said. “Your mom has been looking for an excuse to kick my ass for months.”

“It’s with love,” you said, turning your head to look at Tara once again. There was the beginning of a sparkle that was starting to return. “She wouldn’t waste her time if she didn’t like you.”

“That explains so much about you,” she said with a shake of her head.

“You love it,” you said with your own smile.

“I do,” she whispered before leaning up to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

She didn’t want to push it with you, not now. After the attack in the theatre, you had been distant. It was understandable, of course, you had been brutalised by all accounts. But she had missed touching you, and kissing you, and having you near. If all she could get was one quick kiss, she would be happy.

When you leaned down again, chasing her for another kiss, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. You still tasted vaguely of copper and coffee, but it was you. The kiss was rushed, clumsy, almost like some teenagers finally getting a moment alone. But it was also filled with an urgency, a desperation that only came from living through a life-or-death situation.

“I love you, Tara,” you whispered against her lips.

“I love you too,” she answered. You pressed another quick kiss to her lips before pulling back and holding her close once again.

“Remember when I said you and Sam are danger magnets?” You asked. You were back to looking all around the room.

“Yeah?”

“I’m revising my statement,” you said with a nod.

“To what?” Tara asked, pulling back just enough to see the expressions on your face.

“You’re not danger magnets,” you said. “You are the danger.”

“Shut up,” Tara said as she pushed against your shoulder.

“Not sure I can sleep in the same bed as a murderer,” you continued even though she could see the smile on your face.

“You’re such a dick.”

“You love me,” you said quickly.

“Do I?” She asked.

“I got stabbed five times for you,” you said. “Plus a bullet, so you better love me.”

“I took over a dozen,” she said with a curl of her lip. “You might need to up your game.”

“We definitely need therapy,” you mumbled, but your smile stayed.

“Yeah we do,” Tara agreed, but wrapped her arms around your waist and held you closer anyway.

It would be a long, grueling journey to healing. But if you were going to be there with her through it all, it would be worth it. After all, you were both Survivors. And Survivors stuck together.

safety net

Tara Carpenter x F!Reader

masterlist | over (1) | love language (2)

Summary: Tara Carpenter loved playing games with you. (inspired by safety net by ariana grande ft. ty dolla sign)

Warnings/Tags: toxic!tara, clueless!tara, mature language, implied sexual themes, mentions of violence and trauma.

Note: as promised THE LAST PART (woohoo😮‍💨) this was seriously a lot of fun and became a bit of a writing exercise using songs as prompts and trying to piece them together into a storyline. Thanks for all the comments, reblogs and feedback. They are so appreciated! Let me know what you guys think! <3

Word Count: 3.4k+

“You’re staring, again.”

Tara snaps her gaze back to the book on the table, ignoring her friends’ smug smiles. “Why don’t you just go up to her and apologize?”

“She doesn’t want to talk to me, trust me, I’ve tried.” Tara rolls her eyes. 

It’s been two weeks since that night at the party and you have been ignoring Tara. You spent the rest of spring break working at your uncle’s shop, avoiding the friend group, sans Mindy because you couldn’t exactly avoid someone you lived with. Tara attempted to give you space the following days but reached out to you in hopes that you could talk and sort out the situation. Tara doesn’t want to lose you as a friend. 

“I’m not gonna apologize for something that wasn’t my fault, Mindy. Just because she caught feelings doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. But now she’s ignoring me?” Tara scoffs, “Well, some friend she is.” 

“God Chad’s right. You two are clueless.” Mindy’s nose wrinkled.

“She knows where to find me when she’s done being stubborn.” Crossing her arms, she glances back at you. You were sitting across the quad, on a bench surrounded by your other friends; laughing and talking, unfazed by Tara’s brazen staring. 

How were you not seeing her shameless looks?

She swallowed the pitiful lump in her throat as she continues to observe your carefree nature. 

“Weren’t you begging me to tell her to call you back like a week ago?” Mindy objected causing Anika and Quinn to snicker as they listen in, not bothering to pretend like they weren’t eavesdropping.

“Begging is a stretch,” She mutters weakly, picking at the corner of her book.

“Tara, why can’t you just admit that you want to be with her?” Quinn ponders, genuinely confused as to why you two are playing hopscotch around one another. Everyone could see how madly in love you two are.

It genuinely puzzled the friend group as to why it’s taking this long to get you guys to stop playing games.

They just wanted to see their friends together and happy, definitely not because of the growing bet pool. And not because it was getting increasingly expensive to wager in the bet the longer it ran because you two refused to acknowledge the clear feelings you have for each other. (It was starting to burn a sizeable hole in their wallets)

The brunette shakes her head defiantly, “We’re just hooking up.”

“You’re not acting like you guys are just hooking up.” Anika counters, “actually, you guys act more like a couple than me and Mindy sometimes.”

“No. We don’t,” She frowns.

“Yes you do and it’s gross,” The aforementioned girl interjects. “No one should be cuter than me and my girl.” She wraps an arm around Anika, leaning in to lovingly peck the girl’s cheek. 

“Y/N’s always bringing you coffee when you study with us at the library, even though her class is on the other side of campus.” Anika comments.

“She always loses on purpose when we play card games just so you can win,” Quinn adds.

“She laughs at all your lame jokes and obscure movie references – there’s no way you enjoy Suspiria as much as you say you do,” Mindy stated.

“Hey!” 

“Dude, she has a Spotify playlist titled with your name and heart beside it.” Mindy throws her hands up, feeling a bit fed up.

“Doesn’t mean anything, we share music all the time!”

“Tara, Y/N literally takes care of your plants when you complain about forgetting,” Quinn objects.

Tara’s still feeling persistent. “That’s not true.” 

Her dying plants have been on the mend these last few weeks and it’s definitely because she’s been paying more attention to them; placing the potted plants in a better area for sunlight and watering them more.

Quinn shoots her roommate a pointed look, “You were over-watering them, Tara. Y/N had to come over and change the soil. Did you even notice?”

No, Tara didn’t even notice. She was shocked at how much went over her head as her friends continue to list all the little things you do that, apparently, she’s been too blind to see. She glances back at you as you’re talking to a girl; smiling, unbothered. She recognizes her from her creative writing class – Tara didn’t know you two were close. Close enough for the girl to wrap a hand around your arm and lean into your ear something that the Carpenter can’t make out from the vast distance.

Tara’s eyes slither into tight fissures as she watches the random girl continue to make herself comfortable on you. Eventually, whatever she felt she had to whisper so close was over, but not before the girl planted a kiss on your cheek unsuspectingly. The Carpenter watches as you slightly jump from the contact, then eventually grant her a shy smile – the same smile you reserved for her. 

Tara feels an unpleasant drop in her chest because, for the first time since moving to New York, she allowed herself to finally feel everything she’s been burying.

It was suffocating, making her want to claw at her throat to get rid of the nasty sensation. Regardless of how much she swallowed in an attempt to get rid of the feeling, it only grew larger as it ached; begging to be acknowledged. Hastily, Tara stands up, gathering her things.

“Where are you going?” Her friends' questions were left unacknowledged as she footed it, not really sure where she was going; all Tara knows is that she had to get away before her friends see her break down. 

In her haste, Tara misses your concerned eyes tracking her disappearing figure.

●●●

Tara is choosing to ignore the world and her problems.

After that conversation with her friends, she ran home, plopped into her bed and hid under the covers for the remainder of the afternoon. She put on her favourite horror movies, hoping it would distract her from her thoughts of you. But her efforts proved to be fruitless. You tormented her thoughts regardless of how desperately she tried to drown them out. 

So, she sat there until bright blue skies turned navy and drove herself mad thinking about you.

Trust came sparsely for someone who was violently attacked by a deranged murderer. As much as Tara tried to push through the past and live as if nothing happened, it plagued her in her daily life. It revealed itself when a phone rang too loudly, near kitchen knives, or in dark areas – there were just certain experiences that were tainted by the memory of Ghostface. 

But then you showed up. She remembers opening the door to her apartment and there you were, standing behind Mindy with a $15 bottle of champagne and a poorly-wrapped throw blanket for the old couch to celebrate the Carpenter’s housewarming party (an attempt at some normalcy) with a shy smile and Tara was hooked. 

No matter how much she tried to distance herself, echoing sentiments that it’s a bad idea to get involved with someone so soon. But you lured her in, anyway.

It was in your tenderness that you had Tara wrapped around your finger.

Normally, the Carpenter would be annoyed with someone treating her like she was made of glass, but when it came to you; she knew it wasn’t out of pity. Your gentleness was welcomed with open arms because for once in her life, Tara finally felt like she didn’t have to be so brave all the time, at least, not when she was around you. 

She didn’t have to pretend her life was as put-together as she made it out to be. 

Because for once, someone had finally made her feel like she is worthy enough to stay for, to care for, and maybe to love. And that was terrifying because all anyone in her life had ever done is let her down and leave – Sam, her mom, her dad, Amber. So she kept you on a tight leash; taking control and leading. Never letting you close enough to see how she really feels about you. But there are cracks in the unsturdy walls she tries to put up, she’s not perfect. How can she resist you when you still willingly chased after her regardless of what she’s put you through – and how even through her harshness, you never lose your gentleness with her.

You create real balance and peace within her (not the fake one, she’s desperately fronting) and to someone who’s only known chaos and instability – that’s terrifying. So sue her, for being a little scared.

So, yes. 

Right now, Tara is ignoring everything around her because that realization is too big a burden to deal with.

She has her legs pulled up to her chest, the fuzzy blanket you gifted months ago, wrapped around her shoulders as she watches the TV from the couch; not really paying attention to the film. Her eyes begin to burn the longer she stares at the blue-lit screen causing a painful sting to her pupils. 

A terse knock on the front door startles her making her blink at the sound. 

Everyone was out for the night; Sam at therapy, Quinn at a hookup’s house and her other friends, all off doing their own thing. She wasn’t sure who could be at the door at this time. Cautiously, she stands to silently walk to the door – the pads of her naked feet connecting to the wooden floor litter goosebumps on her skin. Standing on the tips of her toes, Tara looks through the peephole.

She sees you shifting on your feet, glancing over your shoulder – looking unsure if you should even be there. 

Tara feels a pit forming in her stomach, but moves swiftly to unlock the door, opening it. 

“Hey.” She says softly, palm wrapped tight on the doorknob in an attempt to ground herself.

“Hi.” You rub a hand on the back of your neck.

“What–what are you doing here?” Tara sees you flinch, mistaking her tone for malice but you’re answering before she can correct herself.

“Mindy said you needed my help.” You drawl as if confused. 

Tara shares your confusion, brows drawing together. “I… don’t need help?”

You shake your head, clenching your jaw tight, “God dammit… I think she set us up.” 

“Oh.”

Rolling your eyes, “Yeah, oh. Look, that’s my bad, I’ll deal with her. You can go back to… doing whatever you were doing.” 

Tara sees you eye her attire glumly; an oversized shirt that covered her bare legs; assuming the worst. Her eyes immediately widened like saucers, grabbing your arm before you could leave. 

“No! That–that’s not–I’m home. Alone.” She clarifies. The word ‘alone’ taking a special raised and rushed tone. 

You scoff, pulling away from her, “good for you.”

“Can we talk?” Tara calls out, she can’t let you leave yet – despite her previous decision to ignore you and ignore her feelings. The longer you stood across from her, the more she realized just how much she’s missed you these last few weeks.

“No.” You continue to walk down the hall.

Tara grows desperate, running after you and grabbing your arm again to stop you from leaving. The concrete floors were rough on the soles of her feet. “Y/N, please.”

You turn, ready to yank your arm away from her grip but her watery eyes halt you; sympathy bubbling lowly in your chest and you curse inwardly at how easy it was for her to lure you back in. 

“Can y’all shut the fuck up? Some people are trying to get some sleep!” A voice interrupted, it was her neighbour, peeking his head a couple of doors down to yell at you two. He pops his whole body out when he sees Tara’s revealing figure, shooting her a lewd smile through his cigarette-tainted teeth,  “Oh hey, there.”

Tara feels you turn in her hold as your face drops – jaw clenching as you glare at her sleazy neighbour (who was at least in his late 40s judging by his greying hair) “Go back inside unless you wanna get fucked up and stop looking at her.” 

He stares back for a few seconds, debating if the challenge was worth his time. You move her behind you with a tug of an arm; blocking his view of her. Tara knows it's the wrong time but she couldn’t help but move closer; inhaling your familiar perfume. “Man, you’re not even worth my time.”

You wait until he shuts the door before facing her again, muttering under your breath. “Creepy motherfucker.” 

“Go back inside before anyone else comes out here begging for a show.” You tell her, lightly pushing her back to her door. But her hold on your arm tightens, “Not until you come inside and talk to me.”

You sigh, looking around the hallway in an attempt to buy yourself some time before you eventually gave in – tugging her inside the apartment.

Only once you were both inside did you pull away from her grip; Tara’s arm falling limply by her side. You look at her expectantly, “Well?”

Tara remains unmoving and silent, She curls into herself, leaning against the back of the couch just staring at you

You grow annoyed at her silence, running a hand on your face, “Tara you begged me to talk…” 

Still nothing from the Carpenter; she isn’t sure why she can’t say anything now that you’re standing in front of her. Maybe it was because she wasn’t ready to confront you and her feelings but as you stood there, about to leave, she knew she couldn’t let that happen. She wasn’t sure when she would see you again, this was the closest you’d been around her in the last few weeks. 

At this point, she was acting on pure impulse and heightened emotions.

“Unbelievable…” You mutter, grabbing the doorknob. She can feel practically feel the sharp snap in your patience as you try to leave, again.

“I don’t get you.” 

That stops you in your tracks, making you turn looking confused. 

“What?”

Tara begins to shake her head.

“I mean, I don’t get you… Like, why are you still here? Jesus, Y/N, you’ve been ignoring me but you still came here cause you thought I needed help. Even after all the petty shit I’ve been doing with those guys to fuck with you and after the party” She grabs at her hair; roughly tugging on it. “And even after all that, you still chase after me. Why!”

“Because I love you.” 

Tara inhales a sharp breath at your admission and how carelessly easily you said those words. Your brows furrowed like you looked genuinely confused by her question, it has Tara scoffing in disbelief. Unsure how you can still give her genuineness even after everything she’s done, she doesn’t deserve it.

“No, you don’t, you can’t. We’re just hooking up, it was just sex.” She denies, but a fog of tears is beginning to cloud her eyes. Even through the haze, she can see you approaching closer, holding a cautious hand out. 

“Maybe I am just a hook-up to you… but I didn’t just catch feelings for you. I’m not just falling in love with you, I already fell Tara. More like, I dove head-first without a life jacket,” You take the moment to chuckle dryly.

“And yeah, that wasn’t part of the plan but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself I didn’t tell you that there’s someone that wants to wake up and fall asleep beside you every day. Someone that wants to show you that maybe this time you don’t have to be so afraid to let someone in.” You shake your head, looking down for a brief moment of insecurity but you regain the passion in your eyes as you connect gazes.

“So, look me in the eyes and tell me that I’m just a hookup, and if you do. I’ll leave you alone – for good.” She desperately blinked away the tears as she attempts to meet your eyes to tell you that you are just a hookup, it is just sex, she doesn’t love you too. But when she meets your eyes, she sees tenderness again and suddenly her knees are buckling under her.

Her body doesn’t meet the ground like she expects it to. Instead, you grabbed her, wrapping a firm arm around her waist as you held her weight up. She can hear distant mutterings of comfort being whispered in her ear but nothing registers as she realizes that she’s starting to sob uncontrollably. 

“Baby…need you to breathe… ‘gonna make yourself sick.” 

She couldn't hear anything around her until her face is being pressed into soft fabric; clawing at it, in a desperate attempt to self-soothe. She’s having a panic attack. 

“Tara… Please, baby, you have to breathe–” You beg but Tara can’t hear you properly.

Nothing works until she feels you wrap her in a firm hug, still leaving her enough space so as to not feel suffocated. One arm around her waist, the other hand wrapped around her neck, as you rub soothing lines on her clammy skin. 

A few moments of silence pass until Tara feel the pressure in her chest ease as the ringing in her ears subsides. She gasps for air against your chest, coughing as a burning ache in her throat develops. The rubbing of lines on her neck turns into firm pats on the back as Tara continues to cough through her tears.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You shush her. Eventually, her coughs turn into occasional sniffles and deep breaths as you run fingers back up her hair comfortingly; giving her all patience she required.

“I’m sorry,” Tara says once she pulls her head off your chest, keeping a tight grip on your clothes.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Your eyes softened as you ran the pads of your thumbs to wipe away at her tear-stained cheeks.

She shakes her head in your grip, “Yes, I do. Even now, you’re still treating me so well. I don’t deserve it.” Her voice turns into a broken whisper as she finally allows herself to be vulnerable.

“Oh Tara,” You said so tenderly, “You deserve the world, baby. You’re amazing.”

“No, I’m not,” She shakes her head, beginning to pull away from you, not wanting to hear your words and how genuinely you believed it. 

You tightened your grip around her waist, preventing her from moving. “Yes, you are, if only you can see yourself the way I see you. Oh, Tara, you don’t even realize it. You amaze me, you make me want to be a better person, that’s what you do to me, that’s what you make me feel. Not the other stuff you’re saying.”

Shaking your head, passion raging in your eyes; eye contact with the smaller girl unwavering, “The way you care for everyone around you, and how you carry yourself despite everything you’ve gone through… Baby, it’s amazing to watch you be yourself. I know, I know… After Amber, it’s hard–” That makes Tara’s eyes widen, unaware you knew about her and her late friend. 

“–to trust people but, if you just gave me a chance and spared me an ounce of trust to let yourself fall… I promise I’ll be under there waiting with a safety net.” 

Tara examines your eyes, there was no ounce of dishonesty in them. But that’s to be expected, you’ve always been genuine with her, always up-front, and calling her out on her shit – with love. It was one of the things that made her fall for you. Where everyone around her treats her like she’s a porcelain doll, letting her get away with whatever she wanted – you stopped her, but always in a way that was more so loving and protective rather than overbearing and smothering.

The thudding in her chest begs for reprieve as her heart craves to be moulded with yours. Her heart wants to know what it was like to beat in tandem with you, to finally allow herself to be caught instead of trying (and failing) to hold herself up all the time. 

As Tara’s body caves in on herself, she pulls you down by the neck, unable to hide the content sigh that leaves her lips when your mouths meet in the middle. The kiss was sweet, passionate and firm; it poured out all love that words could never capture; where the tool of language proved to be invaluable in expressing her feelings. 

“I trust you…” Tara whispers when she pulls away, unable to school the smile breaking across her lips. You giggle, making her smile wider. For once the heaviness in Tara's chest feels bearable with you in her arms. 

No other words were exchanged as you two attempted to meet again for a kiss only to bump noses and miss because you two were beaming so wide.

●●●

happy reading!

:)

movie night pt ii

Summary: After your previous movie night was disrupted by Sam, you finally manage to get a real date with Tara. Or so you thought.

Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: swearing, mentions of stabbings, suggestive themes Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (movie night pt i)

"I demand a do over," you said as you sat directly opposite Tara in the little café.

"It's not my fault you got caught," she said without looking up from her textbook. "I agreed to one movie, nothing more."

"Okay, then no movie," you said.  "Go on a date with me."

"And they say romance is dead."

"Please go on a date with me," you corrected.

Tara sighed and looked up at you with bored, beautiful eyes. It wasn’t like you could blame her; you had been annoying her since you had been unceremoniously kicked out of the apartment by Sam. But the least she could do was humour you. It wasn’t your fault Sam had come home early and cockblocked you both.

You leaned forward on the table. “One date,” you said softly.

Tara leaned forward too until you could feel her breath on your lips. “You said that about the movie,” she replied just as softly before leaning back once again.

“Why won’t you go on a date with me?” You asked with a huff.

And just like that, Tara got silent. Not the “I’m ignoring you” type of silence she usually had around you, but a genuine silence. One that you weren’t entirely sure how to deal with. Your family was rather loud and rambunctious, and that was on purpose, so whenever someone was silent you were at a loss. Did you crack a joke? Ask what was wrong? Change the subject?

The longer the silence went on, the more your palms started to sweat. Through all the teasing and bickering between you both, did Tara genuinely not enjoy being around you? Sure, she played it off and still kept you around, but was it just because she was being polite? Did she share the same sentiments as her sister?

“I was just kidding,” you finally said with a humourless chuckle as you leaned back in the booth and picked up your coffee. “You don’t actually have to-”

“-I’ll go.”

“What?” You asked, nearly choking on your coffee.

Tara looked up at you. “I’ll go on a date with you.”

“Seriously?” You asked.

“Don’t make me say it again,” she said with a huff and the smallest crinkle at the corner of her eyes.

“You’re agreeing because you want to go, right?” You asked, your eyes still glued to her face even though she wasn’t sparing you a second glance. “Not because you-”

“-oh my god, do you want me to go or not?”

“Yes I do,” you said as quickly as you could manage.

“Good,” Tara said with an exasperated nod of her head before she started packing up her things. “We can go after our media class tomorrow.”

“Wait but I don’t-”

“-this is your one chance,” she said with a pointed look and a move toward the front door. “Don’t blow it.”

“Tara!”

“See you in class!”

And just like that, she was gone and you were stuck at the table with a cup of coffee you didn’t even want and your stomach twisted into knots. This whole situation was your fault, of course, but you would never admit it. Your determination ramped up instantly. You were going to make this the best first date. It was going to be so perfect that even Tara fucking Carpenter would have to admit it.

“Do you try to sound as stupid as possible?” Tara asked when you held the classroom door open for her to leave.

“You’re just mad because I refuted your theory about one of my favourite movies,” you argued back before stepping in line beside her.

It had been a good class and, though you wouldn’t admit it aloud, you had done your best to rile Tara up. You couldn’t help it, she just got so passionate and then she would wave her hands and her facial expressions gave her away. Everything about it was adorable, and you didn’t care if you had to sound like an idiot to make it happen.

Although you weren’t an idiot and you were right about your theory.

“You need to improve your movie tastes,” Tara said once you were both walking down the steps of the Liberal Arts building and out into the quad. It was a beautiful day.

“My movie taste is flawless, thank you very much,” you said. Her knuckles brushed against your thigh, sending a jolt across your skin. “You’re just an elitist snob when it comes to media.”

“Elitist snob, huh?” She asked with a nonchalant nod of her head. “That’s really how you want to start this date?”

Shit.

“So where to, your highness?” You asked, completely ignoring her question and keeping your head up. She could humiliate you, but you were at least going to try and keep your dignity intact.

“You’re the one who wanted the date,” Tara said; her knuckles brushed against your hand this time. You suspected she was doing it on purpose. “You lead the way.”

Fuck. She was insufferable. God you were obsessed with her.

Wait.

“Come on,” you said with a giddy smile as you reached out and grabbed her left hand. She flinched but quickly settled. “I know a place.”

“Sounds like something a creep would say,” she mumbled, but still let you pull her along with you. 

“You’re the one who entrusted me with the date,” you said as you started dodging between people and cars that honked at you both even though they were still in park. “So shut up and come on.”

“If you get us killed and prove Sam right, I’m never going to forgive you,” she said but still followed suit.

“Sam thinks I’ll get us killed?” You asked when you slowed down, finally only a block or so away from your final destination.

“Yes she does,” Tara said with pursed lips and a nod. “Even called you a liability.”

“Well now that’s just rude,” you grumbled, but otherwise kept silent.

You pushed open the door to the abandoned building and pulled Tara until she walked in. With only a glance outside, you let the door click shut behind you. Your hand placed itself on the small of her back until you could lead her further into the building, quickly making your way to the empty arena.

“What is this place?” Tara asked as she stepped away from your touch to look around.

“Some sort of indoor sports arena, I think,” you called out on your way to the wall where you kept a projector screen. “Don’t know for sure, but it’s been abandoned for ages.”

“You brought a Woodsboro survivor to an abandoned building?” Tara asked. You froze. “Maybe Sam was right.”

“I… did not think that through,” you said as you turned to look at her. “We can go if you want.”

“It’s okay,” Tara said before walking closer, stopping when she was directly in front of you. “It’s a thing of the past.”

Was it though? As much as Sam hated you, you knew she meant well. She was traumatised, understandably, by her sister getting attacked three times and having to kill hers and her sister’s partners. That was enough to make anyone paranoid, and even with Sam going to therapy, it was evident that it still haunted her.

You weren’t so sure it didn’t still haunt Tara too.

“I’ve got stuff in my bag,” you said with a gesture toward the small duffle you had left on the floor. “I’ll set up the movie if you set everything else up.”

“Deal,” she said with a small smile that had your stomach doing somersaults.

It only took a few minutes to finish getting everything set up. For the first time, you were genuinely thankful to your dad for getting you the small portable projector. Sure you had used it before, but now you were going to use it to hopefully make it the best date ever. Failure was not an option.

“Pick a movie,” you said when you sat back down beside Tara and handed over your phone. “I won’t change it this time.”

“That a promise?” She asked, but took your phone nonetheless and started scrolling through.

She barely even looked through the plethora of movies on your phone before picking one and starting it. You raised your brow at her when you heard the beginning notes of Titanic playing, but kept quiet. If she wanted to put on a cheesy romance movie then you weren’t going to judge.

Tara quickly laid back on the blankets and pillows she had gotten out of your duffle bag, and you followed suit almost immediately after she was settled. The small space between you both vanished after only a few moments when Tara rolled onto her side and rested her head on your chest. Your breath caught in your throat before you exhaled and got comfortable.

“You picked a cheesy movie,” you said eventually as the movie continued to play.

“I figured you would like the score,” she said without looking at you. Her hand was now resting underneath the hem of your shirt while her fingers scratched your hip. “Since you’re a nerd for that kind of thing.”

“Uh huh,” you said; your own hand was rubbing small circles on her back. “I think you just wanted an excuse to watch a romantic movie.”

“Oh please,” she huffed. “Romance? With you around? You wish.”

“I most certainly do not,” you retorted quickly. “If I wanted romance I would find someone else.”

“You don’t think I’m romantic?” Tara said, finally sitting up just enough to turn her head and look at you. Her hand still stayed pressed to the stretch of exposed skin on your hip.

“No I don’t,” you said, your eyes stuck on hers. She was staring into your very soul and you didn’t want her to stop. “I think you’re a brat who knows how to get what she wants.”

“And what do you think I want?” She asked, now resting her chin on your chest, right over your heart that you knew she could feel racing.

She was teasing you, you knew that much. It was in the well-concealed smile on her lips and the way her eyes stayed locked with yours. Her question gave you pause and you knew you couldn’t answer. Tara had a habit of leading you on and then pushing you away once you were close enough for something to actually happen. If you hadn’t both been drunk at the frat party all those weeks ago, nothing would have ever happened.

“I don’t know,” you said softly, quietly.

Her smile grew slightly as she moved, pushing herself up until she was straddling your waist and looking down at you. The movie continued in the background but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the feel of her small hands splayed across your chest and your hands on her hips as she leaned so close you were breathing the same air.

“Sam can’t interrupt this time,” Tara spoke slowly, her lips barely brushing against your own. “Does anyone else know where this place is?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words got caught in your throat when you felt the slightest roll of her hips. It was small, barely noticeable, but you certainly felt it. Had she done it on purpose? She probably had, Tara was cunning. With a singular huff, you closed your mouth and shook your head in the negative.

“Then I know what I want,” she said, and you didn’t have to guess what she meant before she pressed her lips to yours.

You felt more than heard her exhale softly through her nose, the warm air brushing against your cheek. Her lips were soft and tasted of strawberry cheesecake; a chapstick Mindy had admitted to giving her after your first movie night. Her fingers curled in against your chest, and her nails left the most delicious sting.

Both of your hands slid under her shirt, resting on the warm skin of her waist. Your thumb accidentally brushed against one of her scars, leaving her to shiver above you only for a moment before she leaned further into you, her kiss now feverish. You tried it again, brushing your thumb over the scar with a gentleness you usually kept reserved. In return, her nails dug deeper into your chest and she lightly bit your bottom lip until you let out a small groan.

She leaned in to kiss you again as her hands left your chest. With the warmth gone, you wanted to pull them back until she grabbed your own hands. Your breath caught in your throat again as she guided your hands up her sides, pushing her shirt up until you could feel the lace of her bra. She let go of your hands before grabbing her shirt and pulling it over her own head, tossing it onto the blanket beside you.

You wanted her to sit up so you could look at her, admire every inch of skin currently exposed to you. The frat party had been so crazy, and you had both been so drunk, you hadn’t been able to even look at her. Then Sam had interrupted before you had gotten the chance. Now was the perfect time. 

You tried to pull back, pushing her softly with your hands so you could see, but her hands quickly flew to your cheeks to hold you still. Her lips found yours again and refused to let you go. As much as you loved kissing her and feeling her hands on your skin, you just wanted to get the chance to see her every curve and freckle and scar.

“Let me see you,” you mumbled against her lips, but she was already shaking her head before you could finish.

“Just kiss me,” she said; she didn’t give you much of a choice before leaning in once again.

When her hands held your face a little tighter, you knew she wasn’t going to give in. And as much as you wanted to admire her, you would let her make the choices this time. Besides, there were other ways you could admire her. Your hands went around her back to find the clasp of her bra, and even though you were no professional, it only took you a little bit of fumbling before the straps fell down her shoulders.

Tara removed the useless bra as quickly as she had her shirt, and even though you tried to look at her for even a second, her hands found your face once again. It would have been comical how much she didn’t want you to see her if you hadn’t been so distracted with her soft skin against your fingertips.

With feather light touches, you dragged your fingers across her skin until you could brush your knuckles against the side of her breasts. She exhaled through her nose again, but you didn’t move. If she wouldn’t pull away long enough for you to look at her, then you weren’t going to make a move without her say so. You just wondered how long it would take her before she-

-a door slammed shut.

You sat up quickly, nearly knocking Tara off your lap in the process. With wide eyes, you looked around the empty room, scanning for the source of the noise. It had sounded like the outside door, but that didn’t make any sense. In all your years of visiting the abandoned building, no one had ever come in.

Titanic continued to play in the background.

“Should we-”

-you cut Tara off with a finger pressed to her lips. You did your best to tune out the movie, listening intently in the direction of the only open door of the building. Focus. It almost sounded like…

“Come on,” you whispered as you grabbed Tara’s hand and pulled her after you. You were still vaguely aware of the fact that she was topless, but as the footsteps came closer, you didn’t care. You could fix that after you pulled her into a closet with you.

The door clicked closed behind your back as you pushed Tara further into the empty equipment closet. You pulled your shirt over your head and handed it to her quickly before pressing your ear to the door, listening for any other sounds of an intruder. Once she had put your shirt on, you felt her body pressed up against yours, listening just as intently.

Through the door, you couldn’t hear footsteps, but you did hear the movie stop suddenly. Tara’s body shook slightly against yours, and you looked down to see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Her eyes were wide and she was holding her stomach. Where she got stabbed, your brain pieced together.

You continued to listen far after all sounds had vanished from the empty room. No footsteps, no movie, nothing moving around, nothing. Part of you was telling you to stay in the closet; there was no need for anyone to get killed. But you couldn’t stay in there forever…

“What are you doing?” Tara hissed when you grabbed the doorknob.

“I’m gonna make sure they’re gone,” you whispered back.

“Are you stupid?” She asked. “You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“I grew up in the closet, Tara, I’m not gonna die in one too,” you shot back.

“Please don’t go out there,” she said softly as she reached out to grab your arm. “I don’t want you to go out there.”

The quiver of her bottom lip was enough to break your heart. Try as she might, you knew Tara was still scarred from Woodsboro, both physically and mentally. And you understood, you did, but someone had to be brave for the both of you. There was no way in hell you were going to make her go check for a murderer.

“I’ll be right back,” you said before leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “Promise.”

You didn’t give her time to argue with you before easing the door open slowly, closing it just as quietly once you were on the other side. Even just the few seconds with your back to the room was enough to have your pulse rushing so fast you were dizzy. But when you turned around, the room was as empty as you had left it.

Each potential hiding spot you knew of was empty. Not the other closets, or the hallway, or behind the bleachers pushed up against the wall. There was no one there, and that both made you feel better and more terrified. But with no one around, you needed to hurry and get Tara and get the hell out of there.

“It’s me,” you said through the door before Tara opened it quickly, throwing her arms around your neck and pressing herself into you.

“Let’s just get out of here,” she said quickly, and you only nodded in agreement before you went over to the pallet and started packing everything up.

It only took a few moments, but Tara was on edge the entire time. She tried to act like she was fine, but you could see the shake of her hands and the glazed over look in her eyes. She wasn’t fine by any means, and that was more than okay, but guilt started to crawl its way up your throat. She kept your shirt on, and you weren’t going to bring it up. Lucky for you, you always kept a jacket in your bag, and you quickly threw it on.

“I’m sorry,” you said once you finally dragged Tara out of the building and back onto the streets. Thankfully the sun was still out, or you swore she would have had a panic attack. “No one has ever come by before.”

“It’s fine,” she said quickly.

“Can I walk you home?” You asked.

She didn’t say anything, but grabbed your hand and held it tight. You took that as a yes and started making your way down the streets of New York, knowing how to get to her apartment by heart. It was a silent trip, but quick, and before you knew it you were standing on the stoop of her apartment building.

“I’m sorry again,” you repeated. “Guess I blew my chance, huh?”

“You didn’t blow it,” Tara said with a quiet sigh. “How about a do over?”

“Seriously?” You asked incredulously.

“Yeah.” She smiled softly. “But no more abandoned buildings.”

“Deal,” you said with your own smile and a light chuckle. “I don’t even think I’m going back for my projector.”

“Get going before Sam sees you,” Tara said as she pushed lightly against your stomach. “I don’t think I can handle her scolding.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said while stepping backwards. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“If you’re lucky,” she said before turning around and walking into her apartment building without a second glance.

With a small smile to yourself, you turned around and started the long trek back to your own apartment. You would need to come up with something not quite so risky for the next date. There were only so many do overs she would grant you, and if you got cockblocked one more time, you were going to combust. 

But third time’s the charm, right?

movie night pt iii

Summary: Third time's a charm, and you finally get Tara. Well. You kind of get Tara.

Word Count: 4.8k Warnings: swearing, smut (cunnilingus, fingering), mention of scars, vague gun mention, violence Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (movie night pt.i) (movie night pt.ii)

“Come on, Danny, help me out,” you pleaded as you continued to peel potatoes as aggressively as you possibly could.

Danny sighed and placed the ladle down before leaning his hip against the counter. You knew he wasn’t in the mood to put up with your shit, but you didn’t care. He was supposed to be helping you! If he hadn’t wanted to help you for the rest of your lives then he wouldn’t have given you a place to stay when your last roommate got you both evicted.

“I can’t help you plan a date,” he said with another sigh. “That’s up to you.”

“I helped you with Sam,” you said, pointing the knife at him menacingly. Okay, maybe not so menacing, but you pointed it at him anyway. “The least you can do is help me with her sister.”

“I’m not having you ruin my chances with Samantha,” he said with a raised brow. “If you want to get laid, figure it out on your own.”

“Not once did I mention getting laid,” you grumbled as you quickly went back to peeling.

The kitchen went silent once again as you both continued your predetermined duties. Although you had the itching desire to toss a few potato peels at Danny for refusing to help you. You had helped him so many times in his attempts to win Sam over, and this was how he repaid you? By making you work for it?

It was downright rude and un-American.

“I’m inviting Sam over on Friday night,” Danny said when you finished dumping the pathetically diced potatoes in the pot.

“Stop rubbing it in,” you said.

“I’m not,” he said quickly. “I’m giving you a time you can do something with Tara.”

You looked at him with an expressionless face. What was that supposed to mean? He couldn’t just tell you things like this without giving you context beforehand. What did him inviting Sam over have to do with you doing something with Tara? Nothing, that’s what. Why couldn’t he just-

“-Without getting caught?” He said.

Ohhh.

“You’re a genius, you know,” you said with a smile.

“I know,” he said with a pat on your shoulder.

It didn’t take long after that night to get a hold of Tara and tell her of your fantastic, unstoppable, irresistible plan.

“Absolutely not,” Tara said with a shake of her head.

“I promise you Sam won’t even know,” you insisted. “I’ll be like a thief in the night.”

“That’s not as cool as you think it is,” she said with a single raised brow.

“I never said I was cool,” you said with a dismissive wave of your hand. “Just let me come over on Friday.”

“And what are you going to do if Sam catches you?” Tara asked as she came to a stop at the corner of the street. “I don’t think she’ll be so nice a second time.”

“She won’t catch me,” you said with a shrug. “And if she does then she can go all Loomis on me.”

Tara gave you the most unimpressed look you thought you had ever seen in your life.

“This is why she hates you,” she said.

“And she thinks I’ll get us killed,” you pointed out.

“You do know you’re not making your point, right?”

“Just say yes!” You practically whined, even going so far as to stomp your foot like a petulant child for good measure.

“Fine,” Tara huffed. “You can come over on Friday.”

“Yay,” you said in a surprisingly normal tone with a little smile. “It’s a date.”

“Not a date,” she defended before starting to walk away. “And stop being weird about it!”

“See you soon, bestie!” You called out, laughing to yourself when you saw Tara’s tiny hand raise just enough to flip you off over her shoulder.

Friday evening simultaneously came too soon, and not soon enough. You had gotten all the ingredients you would need, Quinn had agreed to stay out for the night, and you were more than prepared. Physically, at least. But mentally, you were a wreck. It was a guaranteed night alone with Tara, but what if she didn’t actually like you all that much? What if it was too much alone time and she realised just how incredibly annoying you were?

What if Sam was right about hating you?

Oh god, Sam was probably right.

No, you shook the thoughts out of your head when you approached the stairwell to Tara’s apartment. It was 15 minutes after Danny was supposed to gather Sam, so there was little chance of getting caught. All you had to do was get to the apartment, have the perfect date (again), and get the girl.

You got this in the bag.

“Why do you look so focused?”

Your smile fell when the door opened before you could knock. Tara was standing in the doorway in the shirt she had stolen from you just the other week. Just like that day, she looked stunning. The shirt hung just a little too low and was just a little too big and oh. Oh, maybe you just liked seeing her in your clothes.

Oh no.

“Are you gonna come in, or just stand there looking like an idiot?” Tara asked, drawing you out of the staring that you had inevitably been doing.

“Obviously I’m coming in,” you said as you rolled your shoulders back and pushed past her into the apartment. “You want dinner, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure I trust you to cook,” she said before you heard the door close behind you.

You dropped your bag on the kitchen floor. “I’m a phenomenal cook, just you wait and see.”

“As long as it’s better than your movie taste,” she said when she plopped herself into the chair at the table.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a brat?” You asked, turning around from your unpacking just long enough to meet her eyes. Her stunning, hypnotising eyes. Focus!

“You, actually,” she said with a shrug. A nonchalant shrug that would have been believed if you didn’t see the slightest crinkle at the corner of her eyes.

“Just for that, I’m poisoning your food,” you said as you very nearly pointed the knife at her. But the way her eyes darted to the knife then back at you had you reconsidering. You gave her a soft smile instead and turned back to the counter.

Conversation flowed easily while you prepped and cooked. Mostly about movies, occasionally about school, even more rarely about life outside both of those topics. At one point Tara even went and grabbed her laptop to put on one of her new favourites; something called Pearl. Just the start of it told you it wasn’t going to be your favourite but the excitement on her face as she watched it was more than enough for you.

“Here,” you said softly before placing a plate in front of Tara, who was very much still into the movie. She looked up at you and gave you a quiet “thank you” before looking back down at the movie.

It didn’t take much longer before the end credits started to roll and Tara sat back in her chair with a smug grin. She had barely picked at her food and looked like she was about to prove something. About the movie, about your cooking, about you. Though you didn’t really care because the absolute relaxation on her face was worth every moment of your life.

“What did you think?” She asked, finally looking at you with that half-smirk that she did when she was feeling a little too confident.

“It was good,” you bluffed. Effortlessly, you might add.

“Oh yeah?” You nodded. “Then what was your favourite part?” Fuck. “The part with the scarecrow, or the gunfight?”

Okay, maybe she was calling your bluff. Maybe you hadn’t paid attention to the movie even in the slightest. All you knew was it was a horror movie, and that was only because it was almost the only genre Tara watched. But you could be forgiven for not paying attention when she was right there looking like a complete snack. Fuck a snack, she looked like the whole damn meal!

Time to make a choice.

“Definitely the gunfight,” you said with a decisive nod.

“Really?” She asked with a tilt of her head.

“Y- uh, yeah,” you nodded again. Too many times, in fact. “It was hella dope.”

“Hella dope, huh?” Tara asked, now with raised brows.

She stared at you, searching through your very soul for what, you had no idea. And for a moment you thought you could see into hers. See through those dark brown eyes and into the trauma and love that she undoubtedly was desperate to show. But the longer she stared, the more your skin started to crawl, and you bit your bottom lip for a second before breaking eye contact.

“There was no gunfight, was there?”

“Oh absolutely not.”

“I can explain.”

“Lay it on me.”

You opened your mouth to tell her some bullshit excuse; why would you openly admit you were too busy staring at her instead of the movie? That she was the reason you hadn’t even cooked properly, because you were so entranced by everything about her. The way she leaned forward at the good parts, or the scrunch of her nose when there was excessive gore, or her eyes darting back and forth across the screen. It would be so much simpler just to tell her you didn’t care for the movie because it was subpar and the score was mediocre.

But then she lifted her hand to rest her chin on it, and you caught sight of the scar on her hand, and your mind started racing. She had been so hesitant to let you see any part of her because, and this was your assumption, of the scars she had. You knew she had them, she was painfully aware, but that didn’t mean she wanted you to see them. Insecurity, maybe, and yet you were still going to deprive her of something that not only did she probably need to hear, but that you were desperate to tell her?

“I-.” You cleared your throat. “I was thoroughly distracted by how stunning you look.” Tara’s face fell into one of disbelief. “And I liked watching your reactions far more than the movie itself.”

“You’re so full of shit,” she said with a shake of her head and a move to stand up. “If you didn’t like the movie you can just say so.”

“I’m serious,” you defended, quickly following suit and standing up from the table right alongside her. She was already making her way to the living room. “Tara, wait.”

“Tell me you didn’t like it,” she said without turning around, “but don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying- just stop moving.”

You reached out to grab her arm, as gently as you could yet still able to get her to stop moving. It broke your heart when you heard her breath caught in her throat at the move, but she still turned around nonetheless. There was something in the look she was giving you, something both terrified and hopeful.

“I’m not lying,” you said, lifting your hand slowly to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re beautiful, Tara.”

“You think so?” She asked, her gaze holding your own.

“Yeah,” you said with a small nod and your eyes falling to her slightly parted lips. “Yeah I do.”

“Then show me,” she said softly.

And oh how that look in her eyes could smother you under the weight of everything they were trying to say. But she didn't need to say anything, not when you leaned down and brushed your lips against hers. She wasted no time in pulling you the rest of the way with her arms around your neck; she half tasted of the cheap wine you had brought. The other half tasted of hope.

You let Tara take the lead, pulling you with her until the back of her knees hit the couch and she fell onto it, bringing you with her. The jolt caused your teeth to clack against hers and you both couldn't stop the small laughs from bubbling up. Her hushed laugh fanned across your face and for a moment you weren't on a third attempted date. You were in your own apartment with a movie in the background and half drunk beers on the table as your soul entangled itself with hers.

Tara's hands trailed down from your neck, across your chest and down your stomach until sliding under your shirt, nails lightly raking across your skin to cause a shiver. You could feel her smile against your lips as she did it again, only stopping when you nipped at her bottom lip before kissing her again.

"Take it off," she whispered as she tugged on the bottom of your shirt.

"There's no rush," you said with a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"My shirt always comes off first," she said a little more forcefully. "It's your turn."

"Impatient," you grumbled but still sat up on your knees, practically straddling Tara's small frame.

You could feel her eyes boring into you, watching you with bated breath as you grabbed the back of your shirt and pulled it over your head. It wasn't the sexiest way to undress, closer to the way a frat boy would do it, but it got the job done. Once the shirt was off and in your hands you looked around, at a complete loss of where to put it. It wasn't your apartment, you couldn't just toss it somewhere!

"Just get rid of it already," Tara said, her hands quickly finding their way to your waist.

"I don't want to make a mess," you said with a frown. "I'll fold it, one sec."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes I’m ser-"

"-oh my god."

Tara quickly took the shirt from your hand and threw it over the back of the couch. You tried to find where it had landed but felt those small hands on your waist pull you forward, making you lose your balance and fall forward until you were face to face with a smirking Tara once again. God she was irresistible- you meant irritating!

"That's better," she said, her eyes shamelessly trailing over your now exposed body.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," you said with a raised brow.

"The lights are on," she said, a little softer, almost even hesitant.

"Here," you said just as softly, "I'll show mine first."

"What do you-"

Her words fell off as you sat up and twisted enough to show her the scar between your shoulder blades. It wasn't as deep as hers had been, certainly no stab wound, but it was nice and visible. And just showing her at that moment was enough to make you realise that oh, oh that was how she felt about her own.

"What happened?" She asked. You felt her fingers brush lightly against the skin. Unlike hers, there was no feeling in the dead tissue.

"I was at a protest a few years ago and it got violent," you said with a shrug. "Some prick decided to use lethal rounds."

"Holy shit," you heard her whisper as she sat up, her hands still tracing the large area of scar tissue. You couldn't feel it, but just the thought had you shivering under her touch.

"So see?" You said, finally turning back around to look at her now that she was much closer again. "It ain't no thing."

You kept looking at her as you let yourself fall back to the couch, now sitting with your legs tangled with Tara's. She wasn't looking at you, more looking at the spot right beside you, and you started to wonder if you had done the wrong thing. You hadn't been trying to say her injuries and trauma weren't anything significant; they were and you respected it. Fuck, maybe you shouldn't have shown her, you didn't want her to-

-with the utmost hesitancy, her hands fiddled with the hem of her shirt for only a moment before she pulled it over her head, tossing it behind the couch much like she had yours. But instead of just letting you look, she crossed her arms over her stomach and refused to look at you.

“Hey,” you said softly as you reached out to brush your thumb against her bottom lip. Finally she looked at you with wide eyes. “Lay down and close your eyes.”

She opened her mouth to say something - probably to argue - but closed it and nodded once. Her eyes fell closed first before she let herself lean back on the couch, her arms still wrapped around your stomach. You waited until she got herself comfortable before making your move.

With the gentleness of someone holding glass, you lifted Tara’s hands and rested them on the couch. The muscles of her stomach twitched from the lack of warmth and you could see her eyes clench tighter, but she let you do it. You left one hand on hers, turning it around so you could hold it while you finally looked down on her.

She was no less beautiful than you had believed. If anything, she was even more so. Her tanned, lightly freckled skin was soft and unbearably warm under your touch. It was marred only by the myriad of scars littering her body, each one telling a different story. Some frenzied, some shallow, some deep, all of them holding a trauma that you couldn’t ever imagine.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered more to yourself than to her.

Your eyes were still studying the scars, leaving a mixture of feelings swirling in your gut. A sadness for the trauma inflicted, for the lingering effects that Tara would never be able to get rid of whether she wanted to or not. But also an anger that you knew if you allowed it, would set an inferno in your chest that would grow until you combusted.

Tara squeezed your hand lightly and you quickly looked back up to see her eyes open and focused on you. Her eyes were still wide, but they didn’t look quite so fearful anymore. No, they almost looked curious, maybe even happy if you were going to push it. Why would she look at you like that? Did she still not believe you?

But then her other hand grabbed you by the belt and pulled you forward until you were on top of her again. You barely had time to catch yourself before she pulled you down the last little bit, holding you in a kiss that was different from the others. It wasn’t as desperate or mindless; there was emotion behind it.

“Help me take these off,” Tara mumbled against your lips. You looked down briefly before quickly doing a double take when you saw her pushing her shorts down her hips.

“Wait wait, what about foreplay?” You asked as you locked eyes with her.

“Are you serious?” She asked, her hands stilling in their movements.

“Foreplay is no joking matter, Carpenter,” you said with a raised brow. “It has many uses-”

“-do you want me to get too in my head and stop?” She interrupted you. “Or do you want to fuck me?”

“You’re so bold,” you whispered without a care if she heard you or not.

“Well?”

“This feels like a trick question.”

“Y/N.”

“Okay okay,” you said with a roll of your eyes as you sat up and yanked her shorts past her hips and down her legs. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You talk way too much,” Tara said as you settled yourself and threw one of her legs over your shoulder. “Has anyone ever- fuck.”

Her eyes fell shut as you instantly licked a single broad strip, adding a bit more pressure once you reached her clit. The hand still holding yours squeezed when you left a few kitten licks on her clit, just testing the waters. If she was going to rush you, then you were going to find out what made her tick. No better time like the present, right?

The slow, broad licks made her let out light, breathy moans. Her body would sink further into the couch and she would almost seem to relax. But then the fast licks on her clit had her thighs shaking and her back arching and her breathing quicken. She wouldn’t moan, but she would tense up and you could almost hear a whine stuck in her throat.

And when you wrapped your lips around her clit and sucked lightly? Oh, now that was what pulled the most delicious sounds from her lips. You did it again, feeling her thighs press against your head and keep you still, when you finally put your free hand to good use. Slowly so as to give her time to push you away or tell you no, you teased a single finger against her entrance.

“Please,” Tara whined, and you looked up to see her eyes still clenched shut and her chest rising and falling with each rapid breath.

“Please what?” You asked. It took everything in you not to laugh when she groaned, a frown suddenly appearing on her face.

“Please just fuck me alre- christ,” she interrupted herself when you slid that single finger inside her.

There was no time to tease her about it, not when you were absolutely mesmerised by the sight of your finger sliding in and out of her, already completely coated in her arousal. Had you really gotten her so worked up? You supposed so, but that didn’t make it any less hypnotising, especially when you could feel just how tight and wet she was.

“Fuck, Tara,” you mumbled as you added a second finger.

“Don’t tease,” she said with a huff.

Well, how could you say no to such a request from such a pretty girl? You continued your movements as you leaned back down, now focusing all your attention on her clit. Those short, targeted licks mixed with the curling of your fingers had her gripping your hand like it was her lifeline. You could vaguely hear some sort of ringing in the background but chalked it down to Tara’s thighs squeezing around your ears.

She was well and thoroughly wound up when you wrapped your lips around her clit again, sucking lightly and flicking your tongue in just the right way to have her thighs shaking. All you had to do was add one more curl of your fingers and she came undone beneath you, a mix of moans, your name, and expletives leaving her mouth as you continued your ministrations, helping her ride out her orgasm for as long as possible.

You waited until her grip on your hand lightened before you stopped, slowly pulling your fingers out of her before licking them clean, doing your best to maintain composure at her taste, which you swore you could get drunk off of. Something rang again, but you still paid it no mind. After all, how could you when the girl of your dreams was underneath you with sweat-coated skin and a blissed out look in her droopy eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” you said, your eyes trailing over her once again.

“Just shut up and-” something rang again, “-Oh my god.” Tara practically pushed you off of her as she rolled over and grabbed her phone off the floor. “What do you want, Sam?”

Oh shit, you thought as you sat up quickly. Did she know you were there? No, she couldn’t, she was supposed to be with Danny and you knew they were fucking. They were both secret horndogs, there was no way they had stopped long enough for Sam to figure out that you were in her apartment.

“Sam, slow down,” Tara said, her brows now furrowed. “What’s going on?”

You looked out the living room window just in time to see Sam and Danny looking in. Fuck. With a sigh, you got up and went to the window, looking out at them and giving them an embarrassed smile. At least you were still covered; that had to count for something, right?

But Sam and Danny didn’t wave back. They were gesturing and shouting and they looked borderline frantic. What were they so worried about? Tara shuffled around and quickly stood beside you, now covered by your shirt that hung just low enough to hide that she wasn’t wearing pants.

“If this is about Y/N being here then I’m not-”

“-behind you!”

You turned around at Sam’s frantic screaming and let out your own yelp as a large, shiny knife sliced through the air. Adrenaline rushed through your body the same as it had that night at the protest, and everything slowed down. You pushed Tara aside, vaguely aware of her tripping over a table as you yourself stepped back, the intruder flailing forward.

He got up and turned around, looking this way and that to find his target. The moment his body turned to face Tara, your mind was only focused on one thing. One thought repeating itself over and over and over. His knife-wielding hand lifted.

You didn’t bother looking around for the best thing to use; you just grabbed the closest thing to you and lifted it above your head. He was taller than you, but that didn’t stop you from bringing it down on his head as hard as possible. The item shattered and he fell back to the ground in a comical fashion.

“Come on,” you said as you darted forward, grabbing Tara by the hand and pulling her along with you.

“Wait, we need to stop him-”

“-Get moving,” you interrupted, throwing her apartment door open and shoving her in front of you.

You didn’t give her the chance to stop as you practically pushed her down the stairs, acutely aware that you didn’t have her inhaler. Surely she would be okay until the police arrived and you could go grab it from her room. What was more important was keeping her alive, out of the apartment, and that lunatic away from her.

“Tara!”

Sam and Danny were already outside when you pushed Tara out of the apartment building, barely noticing her stumble down the stoop until she was safely secure in Sam’s arms. You spun around, tripping on your own feet as you looked at the front door, waiting for someone to come out. You hoped he would; you dared him to.

“Are you okay?” Danny asked, his hand on your shoulder and trying to turn you.

“Was he watching us?” Tara asked, a sob audibly caught in her throat.

“You didn’t answer my calls,” Sam said through her own tears.

He hadn’t come down the stairs yet. There was nowhere else for him to go. He wasn’t going to get away.

“Hey,” Danny said again.

The air tasted metallic.

“Y/N!”

Large hands grabbed you by the shoulders and forced you to turn away from the door, now facing Danny. There was a fear in his eyes that you didn’t think you had ever seen before. Why was he afraid? You had it handled, you were going to kill the fucking bastard and keep Tara safe and-

“-you’re bleeding,” Danny said.

You furrowed your brows at the same time Tara fell silent. No you weren’t, you hadn’t even gotten hurt. It must have been that lunatic’s blood, you had brained him pretty good. He hadn’t even touched you, that was impossible.

But you followed Danny’s eyes and saw a new wound on your bicep, leaking enough blood to signify a decent wound. When had that happened?

“The police and paramedics are on the way,” Sam said as Tara wormed her way out of her arms.

“Are you okay?” Tara asked as she lifted her hands to your arm, stopping just before she touched you.

You met her eyes and felt your heart drop as you saw every emotion known to man cross her eyes. Anger, fear, desperation, worry, a mix of everything. With a slow, deep exhale, you reached out and pulled her into a hug, ignoring the way your bicep screamed at the strain as the adrenaline started to fade and everything came back into focus.

Ghostface had attacked you and Tara in her own apartment.

He was supposed to be dead.

Ghostface had attacked you and Tara.

movie night drabble i

Summary: The ever elusive Tara Carpenter finally makes her appearance at your brother's frat party. Maybe you'll kiss. Okay, you'll definitely kiss.

Word Count: Warnings: swearing, smut 18+, underage drinking, slight violence Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader A/N: I got a little more goofy with R in this one because I wanted to try something a little different with my writing, so I hope y'all enjoy! movie night i | movie night ii | movie night iii

"Hey," your brother Alfie shouted over the music blaring throughout the frat house. "Carpenter's here."

You turned so quickly you spilled the vodka from your cup onto your shirt.

"Ah fuck," you mumbled, dropping the now-empty cup without a care in the world. Not like it was your frat house, why should you keep it clean?

You promptly bent down to pick it back up. Your Ma raised you better than that.

"Where is she?" You asked, once again searching for any sign of the younger Carpenter girl.

"You don't see her?" He was teasing you. It was evident by the stupid, smug look on his ugly mug.

"She's 5 foot nothin’, no I don't see her," you argued back.

“Over there,” Alfie pointed, and you followed his finger as best as you could.

“Where are you pointing your crooked ass finger?” You asked.

“See Frankie?” He asked in frustration. As if it was your fault he had crooked, broken fingers. “She’s talkin’ to him.”

“Ah shit,” you mumbled when you spotted Frankie and, finally, Tara. “Take my cup.”

You didn’t wait for him to agree before shoving the cup into his arms and making your way through the crowded frat house. As much as you wanted to see Tara, you didn’t want to see her with fucking Frankie. No one was worse than that prick. You and Alfie were pricks too, but at least you both stayed respectful. Frankie just wanted to get his rocks off with whatever girl gave him the chance.

Unfortunately, it looked like Tara might be that girl.

He was standing a little too close for comfort by the time you finally shoved your way past everyone. That annoying little voice in your head reminded you that Tara wasn’t yours and you had no right to her. And that voice was correct! But that didn’t mean you were going to stand aside and let fucking Frankie get his greasy hands on her.

“Hey Frankie,” you said with an obnoxious smile and a painfully hard clap on his shoulder. “How ya doin’?”

“Hey,” he said without even looking at you.

“Hi Tara,” you said far softer and with a much more genuine smile. At least you hoped it was, you were starting to feel a bit of that vodka settling in.

Tara opened her mouth to answer before being cut off by Frankie. “Need something?”

Think of something good.

“Yeah, actually,” you said with a shrug, “but we might wanna talk in private.”

“Just tell me now, Street Rat,” he said quickly. “I’m busy.”

Think of something good.

“It’s just,” you sighed, “I wanna make sure you get yourself checked out, man.”

“For what?”

“I was just talking with Skye earlier and she said she got the clap,” you said with a shrug. “I know you two are fuck buddies so you should probably watch out.”

“You serious?” He asked, suddenly standing up and looking far more furious as he crushed his beer in his hand.

“I’m doin’ you a solid, man-”

“-you gonna say this shit in front of Carpenter?” He asked, now standing toe-to-toe with you. Admittedly you may have underestimated his reaction to such a ploy. Should’ve come up with something less good.

“Dude chill, I told you we should talk in private-”

“-didn’t tell me it was about the fucking clap.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be tryin’ to fuck every girl that looks at you.”

You heard the crack below your eye before you felt it, a painful punch spiderwebbing across your cheekbone and eye. Nothing you hadn’t felt before, but Frankie could pack a punch when needed. Tears instantly pricked at your eyes as you recaught your balance and stood up, trying to blink away the pain. And tears. And humiliation.

“Say it again, Street Rat,” Frankie said.

“Hey, that’s enough,” Tara tried to say, doing her best to stand in between the both of you. Not that it mattered, she was too short. It was pretty cute, actually. “Y/N, let’s go.”

Don’t say it.

“You’re a man whore, dude,” you said anyway. He clenched his jaw tighter. “A man whore with the clap.”

You moved Tara out of the way and braced yourself when Frankie lifted his fist again. Thankfully he had dropped the beer can; you could already feel something warm trickling down the side of your face. If he was going to hit you then he needed to do it like a man, not with a weapon. Pop always said only cowards used weapons against unarmed men.

Maybe you should have been a coward.

The punch never came. When you re-opened your eyes, you saw Alfie standing there in between the both of you, creating the buffer Tara had tried and failed to become. His back was to you but you could tell by the square set of his shoulders that he was tense. And pissed. Oh god, he was pissed.

“Go home, Frankie,” Alfie said in his heavy Bronx accent. Like most everyone in the family, it came out more when he was tense. Or angry. Oh, he was angry.

“Not until I get an apology,” Frankie said as he pointed to you. “To my face.”

“Not my fault you’re collectin’ STDs like they’re fuckin’ Pokemon, man,” you said back. Shut up!

“Come here-”

“-enough!” Alfie shouted, pushing you both back. Not that you needed the encouragement, your cheek was still throbbing from the first punch. “Get the fuck out, Frankie.”

“I’ll be back for you, Street Rat,” Frankie said with a finger pointed at you. Like the mature adult you were, you stuck your tongue out at him before giving him your best New Yorker smile.

“Now,” Alfie insinuated with a push on Frankie’s chest, guiding him to the front door.

With one more look at you, Frankie finally made his way out of the frat house, pushing past whoever was unfortunate enough to be in his way. He was barely out of sight before you felt a hard slap against your stomach, forcing you to double over. You felt like you were going to puke. Maybe you would.

“Quit startin’ fights, you moron,” Alfie said as he grabbed your shoulders and stood you up straight again. “I’m gettin’ real tired of defending your sorry ass.”

“Pop always said I was a slow learner,” you said, your own accent coming out just enough to irritate you. With a slight scowl, you focused harder on your words. “I’m sorry.”

“Better be,” he said with a sigh. Finally, he turned his head to look at Tara. “You good, doll?”

“I’m fine,” she said with a shrug.

“Be careful with Frankie,” he continued. “He’s a real prick.”

“He’s a-”

“-not a word from you,” Alfie interrupted you with another slap to the shoulder. “You started this whole mess.”

“Coulda finished it too if you gave me the chance,” you said, rubbing your now sore shoulder and still trying not to puke from the blow to the stomach. Maybe those fireball shots weren’t necessary.

“Would you mind taking our little menace upstairs and cleaning the blood off?” Alfie asked Tara. “I’d appreciate it.”

Tara looked at you at the suggestion, really looked at you. Just that one look from her was enough to have your heart beating out of your chest like a Loony Toons character. Oh what you wouldn’t give to have her look at you all the time, whether in malice or admiration or love. Just to have her eyes on you would be enough to leave you happy and content until the day you died.

“Fine,” she said with a sigh, reaching forward to grab your hand. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t test her,” Alfie whispered to you as Tara pulled you away.

You just wiggled your brows suggestively at him, to which he promptly threw his hands up in defeat.

Tara led you throughout the frat house as if she had lived there her entire life. It was almost amusing to see someone so small moving through the crowd without any trouble, as if people knew there was a child among them and they needed to make sure not to step on it. Wait, maybe you shouldn’t be comparing her to a child. But, come on, she was small enough.

By the time you both managed to stumble up the two flights of stairs to the third floor, you were very much starting to feel the alcohol and the bruise that was blooming across your cheek. It was going to smart, that was for sure. Tara pushed you into Alfie’s room - by pure coincidence, surely - and shut the door behind her, locking it promptly.

“You’re a prick,” she said the moment she turned back around to look at you.

“I was protectin’ you,” you said, taking a deep breath in and exhaling slowly to ease the accent. “Frankie’s a prick and you know it.”

“I didn’t need protecting,” she groaned. “I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“You wanna get the clap, be my guest,” you said with a shrug.

“Does he really have it?” Tara asked doubtfully.

You closed your mouth and looked off at Alfie’s closet. If you didn’t look at her, maybe she wouldn’t force you to answer. Even with the music pounding through the walls, you heard her sigh. You shouldn’t have lied, that annoying little voice in your head said. Sometimes you hated your subconscious; it was usually right.

Tara’s hand gripping your jaw made you flinch, which then made the throbbing in your cheek resume once again. Say what you wanted about Frankie, but he could pack a punch. Probably would’ve been better to just leave him be. But then Tara pulled your chin to face her, and you were instantly reassured that no, you absolutely should’ve gotten him to leave.

“He cut your cheek,” she said as her eyes left yours to look at the wounds that adorned your face. “Have anything to clean it with?”

“Here,” you said, leaning back just enough to pull your shirt over your head. Tara’s eyes went wide before she did her best to look anywhere but at you.

“Please put your shirt back on,” she said, still not looking at you.

“It’s got vodka on it anyway,” you said as you shoved the shirt into her hands. “Nature’s disinfectant.”

“It-,” she turned to look at you incredulously. “Are you stupid?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” you said with a grin. “Just clean it already, I’m braced.”

Tara shook her head slowly, but grabbed your jaw once again to hold you still. Her hand was soft; incredibly soft, actually. Depending on how she held you, you could almost see that scar of hers. An angry pink that looked like it didn’t really want to finish healing. She probably needed to put some cream on it, maybe you could ask your Ma for a bit of advice.

You hissed when she dabbed the vodka drenched shirt on your cheek. Oh, now you remembered why it wasn’t a good idea. It got the job done, sure, but it hurt like a sonofabitch. But you squared your shoulders and stayed still until she was done dabbing it. Even though it seemed like she was cleaning it a little more forcefully than necessary.

“Does Frankie actually have the clap?” Tara asked again while she finished up.

“Have you slept with him?” You asked in return. She gave you a frown before looking back at your cheek.

“No.”

“Then yes he does,” you said with a nod. “Plus a few others, he’s like a breeding ground for ‘em.”

“You’re disgusting,” she sighed before straightening up.

“Listen, if you wanted to get laid tonight, you could’ve always asked me,” you said with a shrug. You hoped it came off as nonchalant, even though you were totally chalant about it. Was that even a word?

“What makes you think I would want to sleep with you?” Tara asked as she crossed her arms over her chest. It didn’t distract you from noticing the slightest flush to her cheeks.

“Because you think I’m sexy,” you said in a sing-songy voice, “and you wanna kiss me.”

“Anyone ever told you you’re annoying?” She asked.

She did not, however, stop you from reaching out to grab her by the hips and pull her until she was standing between your legs. Even when you were sitting she was barely taller than you. Her arms uncrossed so she could rest her hands on your bare shoulders, causing you to shiver lightly. You were going to blame it on the alcohol.

“You can call me whatever you want,” you said, your eyes darting down to look at her lips. “As long as you call me.”

“This is only because I’m drunk,” Tara said, her own eyes looking at your lips. Bingo.

“Of course,” you said as your thumbs slipped under her shirt and rubbed her hips lightly.

“And if you tell anyone, I’ll kill you,” she continued.

“Naturally," you agree.

The alcohol coursed through you, leaving a heat in its wake. But it was nothing compared to the inferno you felt in your core when Tara practically surged forward to kiss you. She wasted no time parting her lips for you, letting you taste every inch of her. She tasted of cheap beer and lemonade; surprisingly unsurprising.

"Were you smoking?" She asked as she pulled away; you chased her, leaving a trail of kisses across her jaw. "You smell like smoke."

"Which answer gets me laid?" You asked between kisses.

"You're insufferable," she groaned.

She pushed against your shoulders until you fell back against the bed. Almost instantly, she climbed on top of you, straddling your stomach and placing her hands on your ribs. Her nails were short, but still long enough to scratch your skin lightly, sending another shiver through your body. It was a nice feeling. Painfully nice.

“Don’t try to romance me,” Tara said as she looked down at you; her pupils were blown and she looked absolutely beautiful.

“Just a fuck?” You clarified.

“A quick one,” she said with a nod.

“Clothes off?” You asked.

“On,” she corrected.

“Yes ma’am,” you said quickly before letting your hands push under her shirt, nails lightly scratching across her skin until you felt the underwire of her bra.

You waited, watching her to make sure she consented. The alcohol may have been clouding your judgment ever so slightly, but you weren’t Frankie. When Tara looked at you and nodded, you wasted no time in pushing her bra above her breasts. The moment your knuckles brushed against her nipples, her head slowly fell back and she exhaled sharply through her nose.

That inferno in your core only grew hotter when you rolled her nipple between your thumb and forefinger and her hips stuttered against your stomach. Oh it was a beautiful sight, to see Tara lose even the slightest bit of her composure from such a small gesture. You did it again and had to bite your lip to keep yourself from groaning at the movement of her hips.

“Don’t tease,” she said breathlessly, her nails digging deeper into your ribs. A stunning sting that you hoped would leave marks.

“As you wish,” you said in reply.

One of your hands stayed right where it was, brushing lightly against her nipple just to see her shiver. Your other hand moved down, unbuttoning her jeans with surprising ease that you blamed on nothing more than the alcohol. With nothing else in your way, you effortlessly slipped your hand under the waistband of her underwear, letting out a humiliating moan when you felt just how wet she was.

“Jesus, Tara,” you said breathlessly as you ran your fingers through her folds before stopping on her clit.

“Just shut up,” she said between clenched teeth.

It was an uncomfortable position for your hand to be in, though you wouldn’t change it for the world. Your wrist was at an awkward angle, you couldn’t do much, and there wasn’t much room to move. But that didn’t mean much when Tara was doing most of the work for you, rutting her hips against your hand as if you were good for one thing and one thing only.

“Don’t move,” she gasped, confirming your suspicions. You didn’t really care.

“Fuck,” you groaned as you watched her move, her nails finally splitting your skin ever so slightly. It wouldn’t bleed, but there would be red marks for the next few days. 

Even though Tara wasn’t touching you, there was something satisfying about watching her get herself off on your fingers. Seeing her eyes squeeze shut and her mouth fall open when she hit just the right spot. Feeling how wet she was and how effortlessly she could rut against your fingers. No shame, no regrets, just the pleasure of the moment.

God it was hot.

You watched her as she came, her hips stuttering, giving you the opportunity to finally help out and rub tight circles on her clit. Just enough to sustain her orgasm for a few seconds more. She exhaled sharply and leaned forward on her hands, pushing deeper into your ribs. It made it a little harder to breathe, but when Tara Carpenter was the cause? Well, you would be happy to just suffocate under her touch.

“God you’re hot,” you said softly, not even sure if she would hear you or not. That was okay; it wasn’t the point.

Her eyes finally opened as she caught some semblance of control over her breathing again. The beautiful brown of her eyes was taken over by her dark pupils, and for a moment, she almost looked like she was smiling down at you. Maybe she was, you certainly wouldn’t bring it up to her. Not at that moment, anyway. But then she blinked a few times and shook her head before removing her weight from her hands, unburdening you from suffocation.

“I suppose you’re not entirely insufferable,” she said as she slowly pushed herself off of you, being a little extra careful as she buttoned her pants.

“You’re gonna leave me high and dry, aren’t you?” You asked when she tossed your shirt back in your face.

“You never clarified you wanted to get laid,” she said with a smirk before walking to the door and leaving the room.

You fell back onto the bed and sighed loudly. Your head was thumping with your pre-hangover migraine, your cheek was still sore, and you had a serious case of blue balls. But the mental image of Tara getting herself off on your hand… well, you supposed that would suffice.

For now.

movie nights iv

Summary: You gather the Woodsboro survivors to go over your suspect list. Maybe you're just trying to impress Tara. That's for you to know and no one else to find out.

Word Count: 6.1K Warnings: swearing, Scream levels of violence Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (movie night pt.i) (movie night pt.ii) (movie night pt.iii)

The door was open. It was wide open, all that rat bastard had to do was walk right through it so you could kill him yourself. No fire escape, no hideaway, only the door. Why hadn't he walked through the goddamn-

"-You're not listening to me."

You blinked once before looking back over to your Aunt Sherry. By some miracle - it was still unclear if it was a good miracle or not - she had been the paramedic on scene. She hadn't truly questioned you yet, but you knew it was bound to happen. Your family was nothing if not nosy.

"What did you say?" You asked, fighting against the natural slip of an accent that would mimic Aunt Sherry's perfectly.

She gave you a pity-filled look. "Did he get ya anywhere else?"

"No," you instantly replied with a shake of your head. "That's it."

"Then you're all set," she said as she went to pat your shoulder. Thankfully she caught herself in time and patted your back instead. "And you don't want to go to Mercy?"

"Absolutely not," you mumbled as you hopped out of the back of the ambulance. "And don't tell Ma or Pop!"

"It's already on the news, kiddo," she said with a shrug. "If they know, they know."

"You're good for nothing," you shouted as you backpedaled to where Tara and her bunch were still standing. "See ya at mass."

Aunt Sherry waved at you and shook her head, but otherwise let you go. You looked down at the stitches now keeping your bicep together. Only five; it could've been much worse. If that was the bastard you were up against, he wouldn't be much of a challenge. Couldn't even swing a knife properly. Talk about pathetic.

You mouthed a “hey” at Tara when you finally got closer. It was cold now that the adrenaline was wearing off and you were finally feeling the cold autumn air. Would have been nice to have some sort of jacket. Or your shirt that Tara was still wearing. Well, you supposed everyone could enjoy seeing you half-naked. You would just freeze to death, it was fine.

“You okay?” Tara asked quietly, her eyes darting to the stitched up wound.

“Course I am, sweetheart,” you said with a shrug. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was starting to sting like a sonofabitch.

“Are you hurt?” Sam asked, and both you and Tara turned to look at her. If you were cold before, you were frozen under her icy stare.

“I mean… I’ve been worse,” you said as you did your best to avoid her gaze.

“Good,” she said. You didn’t have time to brace yourself before she slapped your uninjured arm. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Ouch!” You complained. “The hell are you getting mad at me for?”

“I told you to stay away from my sister,” Sam continued. “You could have gotten her killed.”

“You think I called your stupid little serial killer?” You asked; you could feel the accent coming back in full force. All it did was make you more frustrated. “Isn’t he supposed to call me?”

“Guys-”

“-Nothing happened until you got Tara alone,” she interrupted Danny. “And that’s just a coincidence?”

You scrunched your face up and shrugged your shoulders. “Yes?” You said. “Why would I want anything to do with your psycho killer?”

“Hey, that’s enough,” Tara said, moving to hold Sam’s arm.

It didn’t stop her. “We were doing just fine until you came along.” Sam jabbed her finger into your chest.

“You really think the two ‘a youse were doin’ fine?” You asked. “You’re trust issues and repressed trauma in human form.”

“Hey,” Tara scolded, her eyes now on you.

“Listen, I’m sorry, but I’m right,” you said, holding your hands up in mock surrender. “And you can be suspicious all you want, but why the fuck would I interrupt myself finally gettin’ laid for the first time in months?”

“Oh my god,” Tara whispered to herself as she turned her back to you.

“I have priorities too,” you defended.

“Fine,” Sam said quickly. “If I say I believe you, will you please shut up?”

“Yes,” you said.

You all finally fell silent, Sam still giving you a look that meant she did not believe you, but at least she had stopped arguing. Danny was giving you that stupid “I’m not mad, just disappointed” look, and Tara still wouldn’t face you. What was going on in the world? You were just supposed to get laid, you weren’t supposed to be dealing with… whatever the fuck all of this was.

“So,” you finally said as police continued to mill around you. “What do you guys normally do now?”

“Seriously?” Tara asked, finally turning back to look at you.

“I’m no Ghostface expert,” you said defensively, again. “Do we just… go on as normal?” A chorus of groans followed your question. “Because I still need to go clean up the kitchen.”

“I do too,” Danny said, looking at Sam for a moment before turning back to you.

Unfortunately for him, Tara noticed and she stood up straighter.

“What was my sister doing in your apartment anyway?” She asked him. His mouth flopped open and closed like a fish out of water.

“Oh how the tables have turned,” you said as you crossed your arms over your chest and cocked your hip. “About damn time.”

“I was helping him carry up groceries,” Sam said with a slight shake of her head.

“Oh, so you can go into a stranger’s apartment and I can’t even have someone I know over?” Tara asked.

“Okay, hang on,” you said, somehow turning into the middle man. This whole night was turning into a disaster. You needed a drink. Or five.

“No, she doesn’t get to accuse you when she’s acting suspicious,” Tara said with a shake of her head before looking at Sam and Danny again. “So do you know him or not?”

“Tara-”

“-no, Sam,” she interrupted. “What is he to you?”

You locked eyes with Danny at the same time Tara and Sam locked eyes. Part of you wanted to just break the awkward tension and say Danny was with Sam. It would get Tara off his back and you could all go about the real problem; finally getting you back into a shirt so you wouldn’t freeze your tits off.

Sam sighed. “He and I are… a thing.”

“I knew it,” Tara said softly.

“Tara-”

“-I would’ve been happy for you,” she said. “If you hadn’t accused my partner of being Ghostface.”

“I’m your partner now?” You asked, perking up immediately.

“Shut up,” she said quickly.

“Yes ma’am,” you said, snapping your jaw shut. God you loved when she was mean.

“If I may-”

“-You may not,” Tara said, turning to face Danny. “I don’t want to hear from any of you right now.”

“How about from me?”

All four of you shut your mouths and looked around, finally seeing Detective Bailey walking toward your little group. You sighed and looked around. The last person you wanted to see at the moment was him. Well, okay, the last person you wanted to see was Ghostface, but Detective Bailey was a very close second.

“Why am I not surprised to see you here?” He asked, clapping you on the shoulder of your hurt arm. Oh fuck it hurt.

“Always a pleasure, Detective,” you said politely through a forced smile.

“You sound just like your old man,” he said.

“Bet I do,” you mumbled as you turned your head away.

“I’m going to need the two of you to come down for a talk,” Bailey said, pointing to you and Tara.

“Not us?” Danny asked.

“I’m coming too,” Sam said without waiting for Bailey to answer.

“You’ll be waiting in a separate room,” Bailey said. You didn’t blame him for not even arguing; if anyone knew Sam, they knew to just roll with the punches. “Come on.”

You followed him, Tara quick behind you. With a glance, you saw Danny and Sam talking for a moment before he backed away toward the apartment. She, on the other hand, caught up in only a few strides and forced herself in between you and Tara. If it hadn’t been for the whole just-nearly-getting-murdered thing, you would’ve teased her about her territorial tendencies.

“Don’t put me back there with her,” you said quietly when Bailey tried to put you in the back of the squad car. Right beside Sam. “She’s not my biggest fan.”

“Neither am I,” he said with a smile before pushing your head down and shoving you into the car. “Get in.”

You practically fell into the car, your knees banging against the front seat. It was still cold as hell and now your arm was strained. A quick glance down showed a few little spots of blood. Great. Now that was split again too. Why couldn’t anyone just let you grab some clothes?

The entire ride to the station you could feel Sam’s gaze on you. No, not a gaze, it was a full-blown glare. If you had died in that apartment, you didn’t think she would’ve been too upset about the fact. And Tara was being diplomatic and keeping her mouth shut, looking out the window as the city passed by. It was smart.

“So,” you started, “did you and Danny have a nice night?”

“Shut up,” Sam mumbled.

“Okay,” you said quickly.

Well, at least no one could say you didn’t try.

It was a short drive to the station, and you felt like you were going to combust under Sam’s eyes. The scrutiny didn’t stop when you pulled into the station, and it certainly didn’t stop when you walked in. If looks could kill? Yeah, it was a real thing. It might not kill, but it definitely made you want to die.

“Hey, Y/N,” Linda at reception said when you walked in.

“Hey, babe,” you said with a wink, walking over to lean on the desk. “How’re the little rascals?”

“They’re good,” she said, leaning forward on her arms. “Found you a girl yet?”

“Think so,” you said, fully putting on the charm. “Right over there,” you gestured your head behind you.

“I’m guessin’ it’s not the one givin’ you the “eat shit and die” look?”

You both turned your head to look at Sam, who had now crossed her arms over her chest. Tara wasn’t even trying to stop her; you didn’t blame her. Samantha Carpenter was a force of nature that no one wanted to fight against. Tara had probably learned that after the first Ghostface attack in Woodsboro.

“Good guess,” you mumbled.

“Keep moving,” Bailey said as he walked past you with Tara and Sam hot on his heels.

“We’ll catch up another time,” you said, sending Linda a wink and smile.

“Countin’ on it,” she replied before blowing a kiss in your direction.

Your brother was going to kill you for flirting with his wife.

It was a familiar walk back to Bailey’s interrogation room. While Sam was directed to a separate room, you walked in ahead of Tara and sat down in the seat that you had secretly designated as your own. At the rate you frequented, you might as well just carve your name into the wood. Just so Bailey would always have a reminder of you whether he wanted it or not.

“Here,” he said when he walked in and threw something at you. You flinched, but caught it. “Put that on.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled as you pulled the NYPD shirt over your head. You sneezed. “Sorry,” you said when you wiped your nose. “I’m allergic to pigs.”

“Stop,” Tara whispered to you.

“What can you tell me about tonight?” He asked, completely ignoring your comment.

“We were just having dinner and watching a movie,” you said with a shrug. “Bada bing, bada boom, little rat bastard interrupts.”

“Did you find him?” Tara asked. Why was everyone ignoring you? You were the one with the injuries, right? Shouldn’t you have more of a say than anyone else? Maybe you had a lot more to learn about this whole Ghostface thing than you had thought.

“We didn’t find anything,” Bailey said with a shrug. “Got anyone who has it out for you?”

They both turned to look at you after the question had been voiced. You looked between the both of them. Oh for fuck’s sake, now it was just getting insulting. There was no winning for you, was there? First you’re interrupted, then you’re attacked, then interrogated by not only Sam but now Bailey too? Well, fuck you, you guessed.

“Why are the two ‘a youse looking at me?” You asked. “I stay out of trouble.”

They both gave you exasperated looks.

“I mostly stay out of trouble,” you corrected.

“Was your sister accounted for?” Bailey asked.

“She was across the alley with a guy,” Tara answered with a shake of her head.

“Danny,” you filled in. “He didn’t do this.”

“And neither did Sam,” she said.

“Did he target one of you more than the other?” He asked.

“He turned to face Tara,” you said as you recalled the event. Most of it was a blur, but you could pick out one or two pieces. “But he didn’t have enough time to really target anyone.”

“Then you need to stay safe,” he said directly to Tara. “I would guess he’s going after your Woodsboro crew.”

“Typical,” Tara huffed, falling back against her chair.

“What do we do?” You asked, doing the opposite of her and leaning forward on the table. “Twiddle our thumbs until you maybe catch the guy?”

“Are you calling us incompetant?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod. “I am.”

“You’re going to go home and let us do our jobs,” he said.

“And if you don’t do your jobs?” You asked with a tilt of your head.

“You’re still going to stay out of it.” He wasn’t even looking at Tara anymore. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” you answered.

You kept your eyes locked on his. It wasn’t your first stare down with Bailey, and it certainly wouldn’t be your last. You knew you were on his permanent shit list, but quite frankly you didn’t care. His group of piss poor detectives had let you all down time and time again, you weren’t going to trust him with your life.

And you certainly weren’t going to trust him with Tara’s.

“You’re both free to go,” he finally said. “We’ll be in touch.”

“I bet you will,” you said, but stood up anyway.

Tara left the room before you, and you sent one more glare at Bailey before following suit. To no one’s surprise, Sam was already waiting. She checked on Tara and gave you a once-over before starting the walk out of the station. You gave Linda a smile and a little wave before walking outside.

Where the news stations were waiting.

It was absolute pandemonium. Too many voices, too many flashing lights, you were amazed the Carpenters weren’t fazed. Well, you were amazed but not surprised. You knew all the shit they had to deal with since Woodsboro. They were probably used to all the commotion that came with being survivors of a brutal series of killings.

“Don’t talk to them,” you said as you quickly got between them and the reporters. “Keep walking, I’ll take care of it.”

You turned around and held your arms behind you to keep a hold of Tara and did what you knew would work. As your godmother had taught you, you started swearing up a storm. Every word you could think of to form the most colourful string of curses you could come up with. The looks of pure agitation and frustration on the reporters’ faces was enough to make you smile.

“That doesn’t work on me, sweetheart.”

Your smile fell when Gale walked into your view.

“Now’s not the time,” you said with a pointed look. “We can talk later.”

“An exclusive?” She asked, following behind you as you pushed Sam and Tara down the sidewalk and away from the station. And the reporters.

“Without your cronie,” you said.

Gale gave you a look of pure exasperation, but only a moment later waved for her cameraman to leave. You waited for him to be out of earshot before you gestured for her to follow you, and she instantly fell into step with you as you both caught up to the Carpenters. They didn’t seem as impressed, but at least they knew her.

“Are you okay?” She asked you. “I heard you got hurt.”

“Just a scratch,” you said with a shrug. “Far less than you lot have gone through.”

“I had wanted to keep you out of all of this,” she said.

“Well,” you sighed. “Seems I’m in it now.”

“What are you doing here, Gale?” Sam asked, turning around quickly and stopping the four of you in your tracks. “I think you know we’re not too happy with you.”

“No one is ever happy with me, sweetheart,” Gale said with her News Smile. “I’m actually here to check up on Y/N.”

“With your cameraman?”

“How do you know Y/N?” Tara and Sam asked at the same time.

Everyone turned to look at you, who was in the process of biting your fingers off. You froze under the scrutiny, your hands slowly falling back down to your side where you shoved them in your pants pockets. It seemed like you were just going to be interrogated for the rest of your life.

“I’m their godmother,” Gale said when it was clear you were a little too frazzled to talk.

“Excuse me?” Tara asked.

“My Pop went to college with her,” you finally managed to say. “Suppose he liked her enough to make her part of the family.”

“And you just failed to mention that little fact?” Tara asked, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. Oops.

“Didn’t think it mattered,” you said with a shrug, “I’m not Woodsboro.”

“Can we focus?” Sam asked. “What do you want, Gale?”

“What happened?” Gale asked. “No recorder, no camera, just tell me.”

The three of you looked at each other and sighed. They might not trust Gale - which was understandable, she had written a book when she said she wouldn’t - but you did. She might not be blood, but she was family. You gave the Carpenters time to stop you before turning to face her and telling her what happened.

You ommitted the little detail that you were mid-lay.

“I’m going to go do some digging,” she said with a dazed nod of her head. “You do the same?”

“Yes ma’am,” you said with a shrug. “I’ve got a few things to go over.”

“Good,” she said before looking back at Sam and Tara. “Stay safe.” She looked at you. “All of you.”

All of you nodded and mumbled an agreement before bidding Gale goodbye. You watched and waited for her to be gone before turning back around to face the others. Now that everything had mostly calmed down, you were starting to focus on the real issue at hand again.

“What now?” Tara asked, her eyes flicking between you and Sam.

“We need to meet up with Chad and Mindy,” Sam said. “Fill them in.”

“I’ll head to my apartment,” you said. Tara opened her mouth to protest almost instantly. “I need to go over a few things.”

“We need to stick together,” she said.

“We can all meet up at my apartment tomorrow night,” you said with a gentle voice. “I’ve got some digging of my own to do.”

“No one even knows where you live,” Sam said. She looked at Tara and waited to see if she knew. Thankfully, she didn’t, and Sam let out a barely noticeable sigh of relief.

“I’ll call you from a burner and tell you the address,” you said. Both girls looked at you with raised brows. “Can’t trace a burner, and it guarantees it won’t be mirrored.”

“That’s some sketchy shit,” Tara said. “How do you know this stuff?”

“Got a few tricks up my sleeve,” you shrugged. “Still not Ghostface,” you defended when Sam gave you a judgmental look.

“Then we’ll see you tomorrow,” Sam said. “Come on.”

She turned around to leave, and you stood there watching her go. Tara hesitated, looking between you and Sam. As much as you wanted her to stick around, you knew she needed to be with her gang. No one could understand them the way they understood each other, and one little half-hearted attack didn’t make you one of them. You knew that.

“Go on,” you said softly with a gentle smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She looked at you for a little too long, long enough to have you shifting your weight from foot to foot. You inhaled deeply, trying your best to calm your racing thoughts and pulse. Tara stepped forward slowly and grabbed the front of your shirt, pulling you down just enough to plant a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“Stay safe,” she said. “I mean it.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said with another smile.

Tara took that as good enough and turned around, jogging to catch up with Sam. You could see the both of them talking, and Sam’s arm wrapped protectively around Tara’s shoulders. It was sweet. You couldn’t even imagine what all they went through on a regular basis. All the chaos was enough to make anyone insane. They were lucky to have each other.

You shook the thought out of your head and started the long walk back to your apartment. If they were all coming over tomorrow night, you would need to have all your ducks in a row. No way were you inviting veterans into your home only to look like a fool.

—---

By the time everyone showed up at your apartment, you were running on 43 hours of being awake, your seventh espresso, and your 13th RedBull. Were you going insane? Yes. Could you smell colours? Absolutely. In fact, red smelled like black pepper. Or maybe that was the disgusting takeout you had been munching on for the past nine hours.

Damn, you needed to clean. Thank god Garret wouldn’t be back from his parent’s house until next weekend.

The knock on your front door pulled you back to the current situation. Right. You were going to show everyone what you had discovered. Which, not to brag, but it was pretty impressive. You managed to sweep the majority of the trash into a trash bag and put it off to the side before tripping over papers on the way to the door.

“Hey,” you said with a frazzled smile when you threw the door open and saw the entire gang standing there.

“When was the last time you slept?” Anika asked.

“Or showered,” Chad chimed in.

“Just get in here,” you said as you stepped aside. “I’m definitely on to something.”

“Good, because I have my own theories,” Mindy said with a smile. She was the first to enter.

You said hi to every one of them as they came in. Anika gave you a chaste kiss on the cheek and Quinn patted your unhurt arm. When Tara finally walked in, at the very end of the line, she gave you a look that you… couldn’t quite describe. She didn’t look sad. You supposed “worried” was a much better descriptor.

“You didn’t even change out of the shirt,” she said, pulling lightly on the NYPD shirt that you were still sporting.

“Shit,” you mumbled, “you’re right.”

“Go change,” she said, and you nodded before shutting and locking the door behind her.

“Get settled,” you told everyone as you walked into your room. You left the door open as you dug for something to wear. “All ‘a youse stayed safe, right?” You called.

“Safe and sound,” Anika called back.

“Good,” you said, tossing the NYPD shirt onto the bed. You were still trying to orient the new shirt as you walked back into the living room. “I’ve got some information you’re all going to love.”

“Who is that guy staring at us from across the alley?” Chad asked.

“What?” You said as you finally pulled the shirt over your head. You walked over to the window to see who he was talking about. “Oh, that’s Tony.”

“Who?” Sam asked.

“My older brother,” you said, shooting a wave at him. He waved back and smiled. “After the other night, I asked him to keep watch. His bedroom window watches the fire escape outside my room.”

“How many brothers do you even have?” Quinn asked, mostly to herself.

“Five,” you answered anyway, “and two sisters.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Tara asked incredulously.

“What can I say,” you shrugged. “We’re Catholic.”

“And you trust Tony?” Mindy asked. “Like really trust him?”

“With my life,” you said. “Now, everyone sit down, I’ve got a few things to show you.” You looked around. “Where’s Ethan?”

“Econ,” Chad answered.

You looked around for a moment, collecting your thoughts. “Alright then,” you said. “Mindy, would you like to enthrall us with your theories while I get my stuff situated?”

“I would love to,” she said with a smile as she stood up in front of everyone.

You listened to Mindy’s talk about sequels and remakes and upping the budget and yada yada. It was all very flashy, very out there, but you could respect it. If anyone would know what was going on, it would be Mindy. And she managed to fill more than enough time while you finished pulling everything up on your laptop and hooking it up to the projector on the ceiling.

“Now we shall hear your theories,” Mindy said as she practically handed you the floor.

“Not necessarily theories,” you said, “but I dug up some dirt.”

“And how did you manage to do that?” Chad asked as he leaned back against your couch.

“Well, Chadwick,” you said, ignoring the glare he sent you, “I learned from a very reliable source.”

“Gale is their godmother,” Sam explained.

“And my sister Martha is a tech guru,” you said as you pulled up your powerpoint presentation, “so I learned from the best.”

“Did you turn this into a TED Talk?” Quinn asked with a tilt of her head.

“Why yes I did, Quinn, thank you for asking,” you said as you pulled up the first slide.

“How long is this presentation?” Tara asked.

“Long,” you said with a smile, “so buckle up.”

You went over everything you had managed to dig up for the past 18 hours. From all the Reddit conspiracies, to possible motives. You pointed out how all the theories of Sam being the killer had all managed to come from different sock puppet accounts, which all connected to two different real accounts, which shared IP addresses.

“And you learned how to find that out from your sister?” Anika asked as she leaned forward on her thighs.

“Yes I did,” you said, “and she’s never wrong.”

“Who do the two accounts belong to?” Tara asked.

“Now that I don’t know yet,” you sighed. “But we got our two potential Ghostfaces right there.”

“Two?” Sam asked.

“There’s almost always two,” you said. “Except for, uh, what’s his name,” you shuffled through some of the papers on your table. “Ah, that Roman guy.”

Everyone looked at you with a mix of shock, confusion, and amazement. And maybe a little bit of fear.

“I told you I did my research,” you defended. “Unlike you guys, I didn’t grow up with Ghostface as part of my school curriculum.”

“So you did all this just to tell us you still don’t know who it is?” Chad asked.

“I’m not a detective, I’m doing my best,” you huffed. “It’s more than that pig Bailey ever did.” You instantly looked at Quinn. “No offense, doll.”

“None taken,” she said with a shrug.

“But I do think this means he’s going after you, Sam,” you said. “He painted a bullseye on you with the Reddit bullshit. Must’ve pissed someone off.”

“Seems that’s all I ever do,” she said with a huff.

Everyone got to talking, going over what you had managed to find out. You continued shuffling through your papers, seeing if there was anything else you had left out. All the adrenaline and caffeine was starting to wear off and your eyes were fuzzy, but you could focus long enough to read. Mostly.

Your phone vibrated on the table, and you looked down. From the area code, the call was from the Bronx. If anything, one of your siblings got a new phone and was calling you to let you know. It had happened far too many times anyway, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Quit breakin’ your goddamn phone,” you said immediately after answering.

“Hello, Y/N.”

You froze.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. “Cat got your tongue?”

Everyone was still talking amongst themselves. You didn't know if you were supposed to tell them about the call or not. No one was looking at you, so you walked over to the window. When Tino looked over, you signed for him to watch.

"You and your buddy showin' up tonight?" You asked. "Or are you both a couple 'a pussies?"

"You're bold," he said. "Have you learned much from your research?"

"A bit," you said. You were eying the streets below. Surely he was somewhere close.

"Then I'll ask you the single most important question," he said. "What's your favourite scary movie?"

“Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure,” you said. “Large Marge will haunt me till I die.”

“You think you’re funny.”

“My Ma told me I’m a natural comedian.” He wasn’t in the alley. Where was he?

“You ever seen Stab?”

“Not really,” you said. You were vaguely aware of the fact that everyone had fallen silent. “I think they're insensitive."

"Insensitive?" He chuckled. "How chivalrous."

"You gonna play your game or not?" You asked, finally turning back around to see everyone staring at you.

Oh no.

"Did you check Garret’s room when you got home last night?"

Your eyes darted to Garret’s closed bedroom door. No. No you hadn’t checked it last night. The phone fell from your hand as you vaulted over the armchair in your way. Someone was calling to you, but you couldn’t hear what they were saying. Without any hesitation or sense of self preservation, you threw the door open.

No one was in there.

“Shit,” you mumbled to yourself.

“Don’t go in there!” Mindy shouted at you from the living room. “Have you never seen a horror movie?”

“Just shut up,” you called back. “Get out,” you said when you grabbed one of the baseball bats you kept in every room of the apartment. “Tony’s apartment number is 413, it’s a four floor walk-up.”

“I’m staying,” Tara said.

“Come on,” Chad said; you hoped he grabbed her and forced her to leave.

This is a stupid idea, you thought as you stalked your way to Garret’s closed closet door. Sure, you had a bat, but you had no idea what you were going to do if that fucker was in there. What, you were going to just bludgeon him to death? Yeah, that would look great on your rap sheet.

“Here goes nothin’,” you mumbled as you turned the doorknob and threw the door open, the bat primed and ready.

No one was in there either.

“What the-”

-screams came from the front door.

Shit. 

You tripped over Garret’s duffel bag that he had left and hit the floor with a hard *thud*. The stitches on your bicep pulled tight. You could hear your pulse racing in your ears as you pushed yourself back up to your feet and ran out of the room.

Just in time to see Ghostface pulling the knife out of Anika’s stomach.

You saw Mindy not too far away holding her bleeding arm, but you couldn’t find anyone else. That was probably a good thing.

Ghostface lifted the knife again.

The wood of the bat rubbed harshly against the skin of your palms as you swung. It hit his head with a hollow *thunk*, and he groaned and fell to the ground. You didn't recall crossing the living room.

“Go,” you shouted as you pushed Anika and Mindy into your room and slammed the door behind the three of you.

Mindy helped Anika onto your bed and pushed against the wound that you could now see went all the way from her sternum to her stomach. Your own stomach twisted at the sight. The muscles in your legs were frozen even as your mind ran rampant.

Something grabbed the doorknob.

You dropped the bat and lunged, slamming into the door right as it opened. Your hands wrapped around the doorknob as it twisted erratically. The metal started to heat up from the friction and you could feel it burning the skin on your palms.

"We're going to die," Anika cried.

"Try to stay positive," Mindy told her even as she was looking around the room for… you didn't know what.

The doorknob twisted again. The door opened slightly, and you slammed your shoulder into it again. Why didn't you fix the fucking lock when you had the chance last week?

"If we get out of this alive, I'm fucking strangling you-"

-The gleam of a knife took over everything in your sight.

You followed as it pulled out, leaving a hole in your door right beside your head along with a light smear of blood.

"Get out," you said, your eyes still glued to the blood smear on your door.

"What?" Mindy asked 

"Fire escape leads to Tony's room," you said.

"Tara will kill me if I leave you-"

-the knife drove through the door again. You jumped back but felt a sharp sting in your hip.

The door tried to fly open again. You yelped, but pushed against it harder. Your bare feet dug into the carpet and you could feel the strain in your thighs.

"Give me the chair," you ordered, waving your hand vaguely in the direction of a metal folding chair.

Someone shuffled around the room, and in seconds you felt the chair in your outstretched hand. You placed it underneath the doorknob.

The knife pierced the door again.

And again.

And again.

"Come on," you heard Mindy say to Anika. At least you assumed that was who she was talking to.

Anika groaned, but the sounds meant they were moving. Hopefully to your window. Your pulse was rushing in your ear.

The doorknob jiggled again.

"Grab my hand!" Okay, that was Sam, the window was open.

The knife came into your field of view.

Oh god this was so stupid!

"Y/N, come on!"

Tara?

The doorknob quit moving and the room was enveloped with a deafening silence.

You let go of the doorknob slowly and took a few hesitant steps back. The heel of your foot hit the bat, and you reached down to pick it up without taking your eyes off the door.

"Just get out here!"

The grain of the wood rubbed your palms raw as you tightened your grip on the handle. It hung in the air above your shoulder, ready to swing.

I dare you to try it.

"Tara wait!"

Someone stepped onto the fire escape before climbing into the window. You didn't dare turn from the door. A familiar hand touched your ear. It stung.

"You're bleeding," Tara said softly.

You didn't answer.

There was banging in the living room. You twisted your hands around the bat and planted your feet. So help you god, if Ghostface even so much as sneezed you would-

"-It's Bailey!"

Your heart skipped a beat. Maybe two.

"We have paramedics downstairs," he continued, "open the door."

Your eyes stayed on the door even as you toed the chair, pulling it until it fell to the ground with a *clang*.  Your grip on the bat tightened as you watched the doorknob twist.

Detective Bailey stepped into the room, hands held up in surrender.

You exhaled sharply and felt all the muscles in your body relax.

The bat fell to the ground as your vision went fuzzy. Tara's hand fell and rested on your hip.

You supposed you had just survived attack number two.

movie night pt.v

Summary: Sam doesn't distrust you quite as much and Tara scares you. Guess that means it's time for them to meet the family.

Word Count: 6.4k Warnings: Excessive swearing, suggestive themes, Scream levels of violence/mentions of violence Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (pt.i) (pt.ii) (pt.iii) (pt.iv) (pt.v)

“One more attack and I’m takin’ you to Mercy,” Aunt Sherry said as she finished cleaning the dried blood on your neck. “Conscious or not.”

“I understand,” you said quietly. You supposed after another 17 stitches, you couldn’t really argue with her.

“Your Ma never wanted this life for you,” she said, her hand resting on your shoulder.

You knew she meant well, but this conversation wasn’t helping. Clearly Ma never wanted this for you, she hadn’t even wanted it for herself and Pop. Trouble was always quick to follow your family, and you were more than adept at figuring out how to navigate it. This was a different obstacle, sure, but you were clever, you could make it work.

None of you had been taught how to keep others out of trouble, though.

“I’ll see you at Mass,” you said with a smile before hopping out of the ambulance for the second time in 24 hours.

Anika had already been rushed to the hospital. As far as you knew, they were confident she would pull through. Damn, she was one tough sonofabitch. You would need to make sure you sent flowers or chocolates or something. What would she even like? Maybe you should ask Mindy.

“Who knows where you live?” Sam asked once you shuffled your way to the group. All these Ghostface attacks were giving you major deja vu.

“No one,” you said when you stopped beside Tony. “Did you tell anyone?”

“Course not,” he scoffed, “I know the family rules.”

“Well he found out somehow,” Chad said.

“Well it wasn’t from us, smart guy,” Tony said defensively. “We don’t tell nobody where we live.”

“Only ones who know are Garret and the lot of you,” you said. “And I only called Tara.”

“And where is Garret?” Mindy asked as she held her now-bandaged arm.

“His dad’s house up in the Hamptons,” you said with a shrug. “Not gettin’ back till next weekend.”

“And you’re sure he’s up there?” Tara asked.

“Yes I’m sure, now quit with the interrogation,” you huffed. “Got enough of a headache as it is.”

Tara didn’t say anything but reached down and grabbed your hand, slotting her fingers between yours. You gave her hand a gentle squeeze. It was starting to become abundantly clear why she had kept her distance. Was this going to happen to anyone that got close to the Woodsboro gang? Because that was enough to have anyone on edge.

“So what now?” Tara asked.

“Chad and I are going to the hospital with Anika,” Mindy said softly, her eyes hazy.

“Quinn is already being escorted to the police station,” Sam said.

A phone rang.

Everyone’s eyes darted to Tony, who was already digging in his pocket for his phone. He pulled it out and showed you the screen, and you gulped. Oh god, this was so bad. You couldn’t do this again, you were barely holding it together as it was.

“Is it him?” Tara asked.

“Worse,” Tony said as he handed you the phone.

You watched it ring two more times before closing your eyes and answering it. The moment you held it up to your ear, you heard the static on the other end. It didn’t matter how tough you were, you weren’t prepared. Hell, nothing could have prepared you for it.

“Hey, Ma,” you said in the sweetest voice you could muster.

“If the two ‘a youse don’t get your sorry asses over here in the next 20 minutes, I’m chainin’ your ankles and throwin’ ya in the Hudson.”

“Just calm down-”

“-don’t you dare tell me to calm down, you don’t even call me to tell me about this bastard?”

You sighed. “No I don’t because you start actin’ like a wise guy!”

“Get your asses over here, Y/N.”

“Ma-”

“-Now.”

You exhaled through your nose and looked over at Tony. He mouthed a “sorry” before he shrugged. Lot of good he was. Sam and Tara were still looking at you with a mix of concern and… were they laughing?

“Can we bring two visitors?” You finally asked.

There was a bit of silence.

“Only if you follow the rules.”

“We will,” you said.

“Then yes.” A beat of silence. “And hurry.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said. “We’ll see you soon-”

-the call hung up and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Well, that went well. On the other hand, you had been on the receiving end of worse calls from your Ma. This honestly wasn’t all that bad, at least she didn’t curse your bloodline. Well, not that time.

“You threw me under the bus,” you mumbled as you handed the phone back to Tony.

“I ain’t puttin’ up with her rage,” he said even as he slid the phone back into his back pocket.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked.

“We’re goin’ somewhere safe,” you said. “Well. Safe for you.”

“She’s gonna kill ya,” Tony mumbled.

“Shut up, I know,” you mumbled back as you placed your hand on Tara’s lower back and started guiding her down the streets.

“Shouldn’t you make sure the police don’t need anything?” Tara asked, looking back at your crime-scene of an apartment building.

“Absolutely not,” you said, “they let this happen, they can do it on their own.”

You all bid goodbye to Chad and Mindy before everyone went silent as you and Tony led them through the streets of New York. It was late, the lights were blinding, and the grating sounds of sirens faded into the usual chaos. There was something comforting about it; you didn’t think you’d ever be able to live somewhere that was quiet. How Tara had managed to live in Woodsboro forever was beyond you.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t keeping an eye out for suspicious characters. Namely a certain motherfucker who had quickly moved to the top of your shit list. Oh if he just gave you the chance, you were going to make him pay. No way on God’s green earth were you going to let him get away with any of this bullshit.

“Where exactly are we going?” Sam asked when you took them into an unassuming bakery in the Bronx.

“Can’t tell you,” Tony said.

You made sure to wave at Chris when you walked by the counter and guided everyone through a back door. It was a bit suspicious, you wouldn’t lie. Come to think of it, you didn’t think your family had invited anyone over since… well, since Dicky had brought Carol over a few years ago, actually. Oh man, maybe you all needed to reconsider your rules.

“It’s not as sketchy as it seems,” you said when you turned to look at them. “But I need you both to close your eyes.”

“Excuse me?” Tara asked.

“I said it’s not as sketchy as it seems,” you huffed.

“I’m not letting you lead us into some back room,” Sam said with crossed arms.

“If you don’t close your eyes, I can’t take you in,” you said. “It’s family rules.”

“Really?” Tara asked.

“Yes,” you said with a nod. They both looked at you in silence. “I know how it sounds.”

“If we close our eyes will you quit floundering?” Tara asked. “You’re going to catch flies.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled. “Please just follow the rules, I’m tired of just standing here like a psycho.”

Sam and Tara shared a look, opposite of the one you shared with Tony. You both knew it was a bit sketchy, you knew. But when Ma and Pop made the rules, they made the rules. How were you supposed to argue? You weren’t, that’s how. Besides, if Ma and Pop found out you were breaking the rules they would have your heads.

“Fine,” Sam said with a sigh before closing her eyes. Tara quickly followed suit.

Both you and Tony shared a sigh before guiding the two girls through the back door. You each held on to them to make sure they didn’t trip over something as you took them down through a cellar and into one of the underground tunnels. Most people didn’t know about the tunnels under New York City, but your family had memorised them as if your lives depended on it.

Which, sometimes they did.

You took them through a dizzying amount of turns until you got to the door that led up to your house. If the family was smart, they would’ve locked it. And unfortunately for you, it was locked. Damn, you had hoped they would’ve lost their mind for a few seconds, you weren’t in the mood to dig around for the new location of the spare key.

The tip of your ear started to throb when you bent down to look for the key under the crate of bootleg whiskey.

“Found you,” you mumbled to yourself when your fingers brushed against the ridiculously oversized skeleton key.

“Can we open our eyes now?” Tara asked.

“No,” you said without hesitation. “We gotta get you inside first.”

“This is how people die in horror movies,” she continued while you shoved the skeleton key into the similarly oversized keyhole. “You know that, right?”

“Yes, Tara, I know that,” you bit back, finally pushing the door open. “Now come on.”

You held Tara’s hand tightly as you helped her up the stairs to your house. Well, it was your parents’ house, but that didn’t really matter. Only once you and Tony had brought both girls up to the living room did you finally pull them to a stop. The blood rushed in your ears. You hadn’t ever brought anyone home.

“Okay, you can open ‘em,” Tony said before you found your voice again.

Both girls opened their eyes slowly; you almost wanted to laugh at how wide they got when they looked around. Sure, maybe the brownstone was a bit extravagant. All the exploits of the past were on display; trophies, if you would. From the old paintings, to old newspaper clippings of heists, to the Tommy gun your great grandfather had owned before he passed down the mantle. You supposed it was a bit of a shock to the average person.

“Are you…” Sam trailed off before looking back at you. “Are you-”

“-yeah,” you said with a nod. “We’re Italian.”

“Y/N Vitale, you be nice to those girls.”

“Oh shit,” Tony said as the four of you turned around quickly.

Your eyes went wide - much like Sam’s and Tara’s - when you saw your Ma walking towards you with violence in her step. Oh, you were in trouble. You were in deep shit and no one was going to be able to save you. Maybe you should’ve just taken your chances with Ghostface; he scared you less than your mother.

“Hey Ma-”

-you were cut off by her harshly gripping your jaw and pulling you down until you were eye level with her. She twisted your head and looked at the injured ear you were sporting. Everyone flinched when your neck popped. What was one more injury in the long list of injuries you were starting to get?

She turned your head again until you could look her in the eyes. As much as you feared your Ma - respectfully, of course - you knew concern when you saw it. It never came off the way normal people did, but you knew it. It was in the crinkles around her eyes as they checked every inch of your skin.

“Are you ladies hurt?” Ma asked as she let go of your face. You rubbed your jaw as you straightened back up.

“No- um, no ma’am,” Sam stammered.

“We’re okay,” Tara followed.

“Good,” Ma said, turning to look at them and putting on her motherly smile that you certainly never got to see. “Then welcome home.”

“How come they get a welcome and I get a once-over?” You asked.

“Because they stayed safe and responsible and you didn’t,” Ma shot back. Tara snickered while Sam turned her head to hide a smile.

“As if that’s my fault,” you grumbled.

“And what did I say about tracking blood into my house?” Ma asked, raising her brows at you.

“I didn’t!” You argued. “But I’m sorry, they don’t let you grab clean clothes out of an active crime scene, Ma.”

“I’m talkin’ about your feet,” she said with a gesture down.

All five of you looked down at your feet, and you flinched when you saw the tracks you had left in the house. Adrenaline was one hell of a drug, you hadn’t even noticed you hadn’t grabbed shoes. But as you lifted one of your feet and checked the bottom, all the pain you had ignored came rushing to the surface.

Glass, dirt, and who knew what else was embedded in the skin. When you looked back, it seemed you had been leaving bloody footprints for who knew how long. Part of you figured you hadn’t tracked them through the Bronx, but you had most definitely tracked them through the tunnel. Damn. Pop was going to make you clean it all up.

“I put some spare clothes in the bathroom,” Ma said. “So get your raggedy ass upstairs and clean up before dinner.”

“Yes ma’am,” you muttered as your shoulders fell.

You ignored Tara’s barely-concealed laughter as you pushed past her to head upstairs to your bathroom. Well, you supposed technically it wasn’t your bathroom anymore, it was Ma’s, but she could suck your dick. The nerve of that woman, to call you raggedy. You were the perfect gentleman, it wasn’t your fault some psycho had decided to target you.

Just as Ma had said, she had left a folded set of clothes on the bathroom counter for you. It looked a little too formal if you were being honest, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. And you certainly couldn’t afford to be a chooser. Ma would have your head if she found out you had even thought about different clothes.

The stitches of your ever increasing wounds pulled tight, leaving a throbbing sensation around the jagged skin. Aunt Sherry had done a wonderful job, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. In the end, you grabbed a pair of hair scissors and just cut your shirt off. It was old, torn, and blood soaked; you could get a new one.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the shirt as you managed to wriggle out of your sweats. Not all of that blood had been yours. Some of it had been Mindy’s, and a lot of it had been Anika’s.  Your friends’ blood was soaked into your shirt. Each breath you took felt laboured as you wallowed in the thought that the very thing that kept your friends alive was staining your shirt.

With a shake of your head, you put the thoughts aside. This wasn’t new, you had seen blood before, you were fine. One step at a time. Finish getting out of your clothes, start the shower, wash your feet. And the rest of the dried blood that was becoming itchy. Oh, Ma was gonna kill you for dirtying up her shower.

The water was steaming by the time you finally stepped in. You let out a hiss when it hit your skin, creating more than just a throb in your wounds. It stung, bad. But surely it would clean you right up, right? Sanitisation, yeah, that’s what it would be. You get clean and fight infection; two birds, one stone.

By the time you were down to your feet, you were sitting on the edge of the tub while the water fell on your back. Your hair dripped into your eyes and you were constantly trying to push it back so you could see. The pair of tweezers in your hands was slick from water and you just needed to get a few more pieces of glass out so you could finish up.

You weren’t looking at the door when you heard it open.

“I told your sorry ass I’d be out in a minute, this is delicate work,” you called out.

A small hand appeared in front of your face and, without lifting your head, you looked up to see Tara standing in front of you. She, too, had been given a spare set of clothing that looked a little too big. Whose shirt was she wearing anyway? Her hand never moved until you sighed and placed the tweezers on her palm.

“You’re shit at this,” she said as she knelt down and started looking for the few remaining pieces of glass.

“Don’t have to be good, just have to be effici- ouch.” She swatted your hand away when you went to stop her from hurting you again. “You’re so rough,” you grumbled.

“Don’t have to be gentle,” she said as she looked up at you, “just have to be efficient.”

“You’re so mean,” you whispered even as you shifted your position to ease a certain… uncomfortable feeling.

Maybe you liked when she was mean. Maybe you liked it a little too much. Oh god, your family was going to see how whipped you were for a girl you hadn’t even properly been on a date with. Bringing Tara to the house maybe wasn’t such a smart idea on your part.

“Do you have gauze?” She asked, setting the tweezers down in the sink so more blood than necessary wouldn’t get on the floor.

“Underneath the sink,” you said with a gesture of your head. “Got a whole first aid kit.”

You watched her as she got up and checked under the sink. It only took a moment, it was a giant metal kit, no one could miss it. In fact, when she brought it out it was almost bigger than she was. You bit the inside of your cheek so you wouldn’t laugh at her. If your body wasn’t at her mercy, you wouldn’t have been so polite.

She quickly dug around and got to work finding everything she needed before getting started. Her hands moved expertly as she started cleaning and bandaging your feet. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve guessed she had been a nurse in a past life. Unfortunately you did know better, and the scar on her hand just reminded you of how she knew so much.

“I never said thank you,” she said after she finished wrapping your left foot.

“For what?” You asked as you leaned back to turn the water off; you weren’t going to need it anymore.

“For saving Mindy and Anika,” she continued.

She wasn’t looking up at you. Quite the contrary, it was almost like she was avoiding your eyes. Why would she thank you for such a thing? It wasn’t like you were going to leave them behind to die. You weren’t always the sharpest tool in the shed - Ma made sure to remind you of that every now and then - but you weren’t that selfish.

“You don’t gotta thank me for that,” you said softly.

“I just did,” she said as she finished wrapping your right foot. “You’re done.”

You placed your feet on the ground and stood up slowly, easing your feet back into holding your weight. It hurt, ached even, but at least they were clean. How you hadn’t noticed the injuries before Ma, you had no idea. But quite frankly, Tara did a phenomenal job of wrapping them securely. 

“Hurry up and get dressed,” Tara ordered, and you looked up just in time to catch the towel she had thrown in your direction. “Your mom is torturing Sam by giving her a lecture on street safety.”

“You should’ve listened to it too,” you said, but you quickly started drying off. “You hippies can’t handle these streets.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you said through gritted teeth as you pulled your pants up. It hurt your feet to be moving on them so much. “Notice your bunch weren’t even here for a few months before getting attacked.”

“And you know so much about street safety?” Tara asked. “The one who got shot at a protest?”

You hesitated. “Yeah, I do.”

You were facing the mirror as you started buttoning up your shirt, and you could see Tara staring at you with furrowed brows. Maybe you should’ve just kept your big trap shut. It wasn’t exactly the greatest time to be getting into backstory now, was it? No, it most certainly wasn’t.

“You didn’t get shot at a protest,” she said slowly. “Did you?”

You turned around as you finished tucking your shirt into your pants. “Sorry, doll,” you said with a smile, “only girlfriends get to know that information.” With a wink, you gently pushed past her and exited the bathroom.

“Oh you dick,” you heard her say even as she followed after you.

You waited at the bottom of the stairs before placing your hand on her lower back and guiding her through the brownstone to the dining room. Everyone’s obscenely loud voices reverberated off the brick walls. Seemed the whole family was invited for dinner. A little unusual considering it was a Thursday night, but given the circumstances it could be forgiven.

A wide variety of “hello”s deafened you when you and Tara walked into the dining room. Everyone was dressed well - the same dress shirt and pants as you, which was typical - and they had pulled out a few extra seats for Sam and Tara. Gale was sitting beside your Pop; she gave you a smile and a small wave, which you returned.

“Oy, Street Rat,” Mitch called, “be a good pup and show your girl to her seat.”

“Shut up,” you shot back, but nonetheless led Tara to one of the two empty seats next to each other.

Out of pure mercy, you let her sit between you and Sam so she wasn’t having to deal with any of the other family members. The others heckled you when you helped push her seat in. You could feel your cheeks heating up while you grumbled and plopped down in your own seat, refusing to look up at any of them.

“Quiet,” Pop said, and the room immediately fell silent. “Who’s gonna say grace?”

“Can’t be me,” Joel said with a shrug. “He clearly don’t listen cause Y/N is still here.”

“You really wanna be a wise guy tonight?” You asked. “Cause I still got a lot of pent up anger.”

“Enough,” Ma said quietly, but you all listened. “I’ll say grace.”

"Yes, Ma," everyone said in unison.

"Bow your heads," she said, and everyone slowly did as instructed.

You cheated a little bit. While Ma was saying grace, blessing the food and yours and the Carpenters' lives, you looked at Tara out of the corner of your eye. If you looked a little harder you almost thought you could see a flush on her cheeks. For what, you had no idea, but you made the split decision to reach over and take her hand.

She linked her fingers with yours right before Ma finished.

"Amen," each person said before all normal talk resumed.

You helped Tara and Sam get their food, making sure everyone behaved. They did, they all knew the family rules, but the Carpenters didn't and you knew the lot of you could be… a little chaotic. Eight kids, two parents, sometimes the spouses and nieces and nephews. Lucky for the girls, it was only the immediate family.

"Oy, show me the ear," Dicky said right as you tried to start eating.

"So you can point and laugh?" You asked. "No way."

"I just wanna see," he said.

"I got it," Alfie said around a mouthful of food.

The look on Tara's and Sam's faces was comical when Alfie reached across the table, gripped your jaw, and turned your head. You did your best to smile at the two of them to let them know it was normal, but they didn't seem to believe you. If anything, it almost made Tara look a little frustrated. Maybe even angry.

"That's it?" Dicky asked when you snapped at Alfie and he let you go. "All that hubbub for that?"

"What do you mean?" You asked. "I got a notch outta my ear, I was gonna get that part pierced."

"All he's sayin' is you took on Ghostface twice, and that's what you walk away with?" Joel butted in. "Pass the salt, wouldya?"

"It's more than you ever walked away with," Martha defended you. "Don't listen to a word he says."

"The two 'a youse walk away with any cool scars?" Mitch asked, turning to look at Sam and Tara.

You could see them squirm in their seats.

"Watch it-"

"-fuck off-"

"-none of your business." Martha, you, and Mercy all said at the same time.

You felt Tara squeeze your hand once.

“Hey Street Rat, you down to make a run for me?” Dicky asked.

You didn’t bother swallowing before you answered. “I’m kinda in the middle of somethin’ this week.”

“I didn’t mean this second, jackass.”

You glared at him and swiped your tongue over your bottom teeth. “Sure,” you finally said with a shrug, “just give me a week and I’ll be back in action.”

"So," Sam started, wiping her mouth off on the napkin before looking around the table. “What do you all do for a living?”

“Accounting,” every single one of you said at the same time. Pop squeezed the bridge of his eyes as you all looked at each other sheepishly.

“All of you?” Sam asked.

“Mercy’s a doctor,” Tony chimed in.

“Accounting’s a family business,” Dicky said with a gentle nod.

“Right,” Sam said with her own nod and a polite smile. Something told you she didn’t exactly believe him.

Conversation continued as normal, with everyone talking over each other. Thankfully, they all started asking Sam and Tara normal questions, and you could visibly see them start to relax. You wondered when the last time was that they had a family dinner. Not including Chad and Mindy; they were family, but they weren’t family. There was a bit of a difference.

“Ladies,” Pop said once Ma had brought out the cannoli. Everyone froze, only their eyes moving between him and the Carpenters. “It’s been a pleasure to have you, but there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

The girls stiffened in their seats, and Tara squeezed your hand again. You tried to give Pop a look that said to calm down, but he wasn’t even looking at you. His eyes were trained on Sam and Tara, and you couldn’t blame him. Hell, you didn’t know when non-family had been over last. Hopefully he was going to behave.

“You might not understand the gravity of this statement, but Vitale blood has been spilled for you two,” he said as he leaned back in his chair, his hands folded in front of him on the table.

“Oh brother,” you whispered.

Tara looked at you and you shook your head lightly and rolled your eyes. This was going to be ridiculous.

“One of us,” everyone looked at you, “felt you were worth dyin’ for.” You sighed. “We don’t take that lightly.”

“We greatly appreciate it-”

“-we have a family rule,” he interrupted Sam. “If one of us voluntarily spills blood for someone, we all follow suit.” He leaned forward on the table and waited until both Sam and Tara were looking him in the eye. “We’ll put that Ghostface character at the bottom of the Hudson.”

“Tone it down a smidge,” you whispered and gestured down with your hand.

Pop opened his mouth and closed it once. “We’ll, uh, protect you with our lives.” You gestured again. “Welcome… to the family?”

“Better,” you whispered with a scrunch of your nose that was followed by a gentle smile.

“We really do appreciate it,” Tara said.

“It’s nice to know we have, um,” Sam inhaled deeply and looked around, “Italians on our side.”

“Atta girl,” Mercy said.

“You catch on quick,” Martha agreed.

Dinner finished soon after, and everyone went about collecting the dishes and cleaning. Martha, in all her pregnant glory, kept Sam and Tara at the table, talking their ears off. At one point, you took the still-full coffee cups from in front of them and heard her talking about… something. You weren’t entirely sure, you just knew the word “family” was being thrown around a lot.

Tara looked at you and mouthed “help me.” You just smiled, shook your head, and mouthed “no” in return. The glare she gave you… it was no question she and Sam were related, they both had killer eyes. Tara’s were particularly beautiful at that moment though, did she know that? They almost reminded you of a warm hazelnut-

“-You’d best keep movin’,” Martha said. She was watching you with a ridiculous smirk. “She’s got a look that could kill.”

“Would you like some tiramisu?” You asked. Tara’s eyes softened, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Yes please,” she said.

“I’ll go get it.”

“You’re whipped!” Dicky called from the kitchen before you could even stand up straight.

“Give it a few days, Dick,” Joel said as he leaned on the doorframe. “Tara’ll have ‘em on a leash.”

“Shut up,” you shot back as you pushed past them to get into the kitchen. “It’s called bein’ polite.” You carefully plated the tiramisu. “Somethin’ you clearly know nothin’ about.”

“Seems our little Street Rat’s turnin’ into a Guard Dog,” Mitch chimed in, seemingly coming out of nowhere. Your family really came out of the woodworks, they did.

“Next time Ghostface calls, I’m givin’ him your address,” you said as you walked back into the dining room and placed the plate down in front of Tara. And Sam, you had made her a plate too.

Maybe you were whipped.

“Do it,” Dicky said. “Matter ‘a fact, give him my phone number too, he and I need to have a talk.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t tolerate that shit on my turf.”

“That’s enough,” Pop said, and everyone quickly shut up. “Go home, the lot of ya.” He looked down at Sam and Tara. “We’ve got beds made up for the both of you.”

“Thank you,” they both said with polite smiles.

“Gale stayin’ tonight too?” You asked.

And just like that, she came in at the mention of her name. Speak of the devil.

“Yes I am,” she said with a smile. “I have something I want to show you three tomorrow when it’s day time.”

“What did you find?” Tara asked quickly.

“We’ll have more time tomorrow,” Gale answered. You watched as Tara slumped back in her seat in defeat.

Everyone finished cleaning up their stuff and started leaving the brownstone. You could see the gears turning in Tara’s head when they all left through the front door, but you shook your head at her. It wasn’t something she needed to know at the moment. It was late, dark, and everyone just needed to get some sleep. If she really wanted to know more later, you would tell her.

Probably.

“She gonna have you in a muzzle next time I see you?” Joel asked as he blocked the doorway.

“Keep movin’,” Tony said as he pushed Joel out. “Call me if ya need somethin’,” he said to you with a smile.

“You got it,” you answered. “Now get out, I’m exhausted.”

Mercy gave you a kiss on the cheek and Martha gave Sam and Tara hugs, but then everyone was gone. You were left with the Carpenters, Gale, and your parents. It was… disturbingly quiet, if you were being honest. You almost missed the chaos of having everyone over. Well, you would see them all at Mass, it would be fine.

“All of you get upstairs and get to bed,” Ma said with a gentle nod of her head. “It’s late and I know you all must be tired.”

“Come on, Sam,” Gale said with a gesture, “I’ll show you to your room.”

“Good night,” Sam said with a polite smile and wave. A chorus of “good nights” followed her as she similarly followed Gale upstairs.

“Tara sweetie, you can sleep in Y/N’s bed,” Ma said before looking at you. “I made you a pallet on your floor.”

“Thanks, Ma,” you said, leaning in to leave a kiss on her cheek. “Good night, you two.” You leaned over to give Pop a kiss on the cheek as well.

“Good night,” Tara said with her own small wave.

You placed your hand on Tara’s lower back as you gently pushed her in front of you up the stairs. Unfortunately for you, your room was right beside the two guest rooms that everyone else was staying in. Not that you necessarily had anything planned, but even if you did, you wouldn’t dare risk Sam or Gale hearing you.

Sometimes life was rather cruel.

“She left you some pyjamas on the bed,” you said once you showed Tara into your room. “Bathroom is down the hall, we’ve got spare toothbrushes in the top left drawer.”

“Thanks,” Tara said softly.

You watched as she grabbed the pyjamas and promptly exited the room, leaving you alone for the first time since your shower. And now that you were alone, you could feel all the wear and tear of the past two days weighing heavy on you. Anika was still in the hospital. Was she even alive? Surely she was, someone would have let you know, right? Or they at least would have let Sam or Tara know.

And what about Quinn? She would be safe at the police station, you knew that much. They didn’t care for anyone else in the city, but they did care for their own. There was no way in hell they would let anything happen to a Detective’s daughter, especially when that daughter was Quinn. No, Quinn was safe.

Chad and Mindy were safe at the hospital with Anika. There was no doubt about it. Your family had people up there, and Pop had already said he told them to stay close and keep their eyes out. They would die before they let anything happen to those three, so they were actually safer than any of you.

When Tara came back into the room, looking mighty adorable in the oversized t-shirt and sleep pants, you gave her a smile and made your own way to the bathroom. You needed to get out of those clothes pronto before you lost your goddamn mind. The clothes were comfortable, but you were starting to feel constricted.

You left your toothbrush hanging out of the side of your mouth as you unbuttoned the shirt. Each inch lower revealed still-forming bruises and the few bouts of stitches. With a grimace, you finally let the shirt fall to the floor. You didn’t mind scars, really you didn’t, but you hadn’t wanted to get them this way.

Maybe that’s how Tara feels too, you thought with a frown as you finished brushing your teeth and cleaning up. You hadn’t entirely planned for it, but you had known it was a possibility. But Tara? She hadn’t had any idea. And it had all been done by her girlfriend’s hand. What kind of havoc did that wreak on a person’s mind?

You were still thinking about Tara and Amber when you walked back into your room. Tara was already on the bed, her back to you. The door closed with a soft *click* and you turned the light off before plodding over to the pallet. There was an art to pallet making, and your family had perfected it. But as you laid down on the floor and tried to pull the blanket up to your chin, your injuries started to throb and sting.

It wasn’t going to be the floor that kept you awake all night.

There was no way you could lay on your right side, you had that cut on your hip and your right ear was missing a piece. But you couldn’t lay on your left side either because you had that cut on your bicep. Maybe if you tried to lay on your front- nope, not that either. If you had to sleep sitting up, so help you god, you were going to snap-

-something shuffled on your bed, and you quickly stilled yourself. Shit, you hadn’t meant to wake Tara. You were practically holding your breath as the shuffling continued, but then you heard the creak of the bed and someone walking across the room. It was dark, but you didn’t have to use anything more than common sense to know it was Tara who was lifting your blanket and crawling into the pallet with you.

“Not a word,” she said softly as she carefully wrapped an arm around your waist and rested her head on your shoulder.

It hurt. You would rather die than tell her that. Instead, you just pulled her closer and tried not to shift when her fingers rubbed the skin on your hip. It was obsessive, incessant, and it was almost becoming uncomfortable. But you weren’t going to tell her to stop, not when something was clearly on her mind.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into all of this,” Tara said softly.

“I’ve been dragged into worse situations,” you said flippantly. “And never by a pretty girl.”

“Don’t get yourself killed,” she said, almost as if she hadn’t heard what you had just said.

“I don’t plan on it, sweetheart,” you chuckled.

Her hand left your hip and you felt her grab your chin and turn your head. You couldn’t really see her, not properly at least, but you knew she was looking at you. Studying you for something; you wouldn’t pretend to know what. It strained your neck, but you kept your mouth shut.

You felt her pull your face down until her lips were on yours. Soft but firm. It wasn’t a kiss that was going to lead anywhere, she wasn’t trying to move any further. But judging by the way her bottom lip quivered, you knew it was important. You held her tighter to you until she pulled back and let go of your jaw, resting her head back on your shoulder.

“That didn’t mean anything,” Tara said softly.

“I know,” you said with a nod of your head that no one could see.

You both knew she was lying; you still fell asleep easily.

Tardy, part 7

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 6

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: You guys devise a plan to stop Ghostface once and for all, but some shocking news stops you in your tracks.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mentions of violence, fluff, a little angst, my attempt at humor

A/N: Never mind y’all I just got motivation out of no where last night and apparently I can still write! This one’s kinda short…but I hope u like <3

You don't get to planning the demise of a certain wimpy pea faced masked killer as fast as you'd like.

You'd expected Sam to call the rest of the group and discuss details immediately; but that hasn't happened yet.

It's really starting to annoy you, but you can't even move far enough to grab your phone without help; so you relent and figure you'll kill the fucker when you can actually stand.

The only bright side, it seems; is Tara. She hasn't left your side for even a minute during the whole debacle.

She's gotten more comfortable, you can tell. Even gotten so brave as to come sit on the armchair beside yours.

Your anger has simmered down into a calm sea of peace; and you're starting to feel a bit bad for the indifferent way you've been treating her.

It's impossible to say you don't still care for Tara, in fact; you care a lot more than you probably should. The feeling is so overwhelming you can sense it's tendrils wrapping around you; threatening to engulf you whole.

Stupid, stupid feelings.

You tilt your head and look at her now, wonder if she feels the same.

Almost like she can feel your gaze, she turns and cranes her neck at you.

"Do you need anything?" She asks, flipping over the page of the book she was currently reading.

You don't trust your voice to come out as anything but a strangled whimper, so you nod.

She sits up immediately, practically jumping off the piece of furniture.

"Oh thank god! This book is so boring." She huffs, eyes brightening up as she gets closer.

She walks up to you and folds your shirt up, enough to show your wound. She examines it slowly, lips pursed.

"You know...maybe we should take you to a hospital? It doesn't really look any better." She states, staring intently.

You suddenly feel small underneath her intense gaze; and you wiggle a bit.

You weren't exactly at your best, since you'd been practically glued to the couch for days; apart from the occasional shower and a brush of the teeth.

"Tara?" You rasp, making her look at you; worry in her eyes.

"Yeah? You okay?"

You shake your head no, motion for her to come over. She looks downright stressed.

"Why? What's wrong?" She asks, reaching out to touch your face but stopping short, hesitance clear in her expression.

You muster the strength to bring your arm up to grab her hand, lay it down on your chest; intertwined.

"I'm sorry for being such a dick lately." You say, breathe in heavily.

"It was uncool of me. And I was wondering if you...would maybe want to be my girlfriend again?" It comes out as a soft whisper, and you watch as Tara's face changes from worried to unreadable.

Oh god.

"I mean- uh it's just that I think we might be better off as like girlfriends and I didn't really mean what I said before, I was mad you know? But it’s totally fine if you don’t-" She cuts you off with a kiss to your lips, soft and tender.

You melt into it immediately. Her hands fly to cup your cheeks, and yours press against her neck; pulling her closer.

You guys stay like that for a bit until Tara pulls away, breathlessly.

"I'm sorry too. I was being a bitch, and I should've listened to you. I promise I'll be better this time." She says, chewing on her bottom lip.

You pull her down, taking her by surprise and making her stumble and land right on you.

You let out a groan at the contact and peer down at your wound.

She retracts immediately, mumbling a million sorry's.

"It's okay Tar, come on. Come here." You wave with your hands, let her rest her head on your chest.

She doesn't press herself into you in fears that it'll hurt you, and it's the most straining and uncomfortable position she's ever been in; but she doesn't pull away.

"This is like doing a plank." She says, eyes sparkling with amusement.

You shake your head and smirk. Tilt her face up to yours again and kiss her.

"Shut up."

And she does.

-

The sound of your phone ringing is what wakes both you and Tara up. She stirs, then immediately tightens up; like she has a flight or fight response to the sound of it.

Oh wait, she does. You realize dumbly.

"It's okay. Everything's fine, could you just grab me the phone sweetheart?" You murmur, rubbing the top of her head in small circles.

She wearily gets up on her knees and reaches for the phone from the couch. It's too far; and she doesn't want to leave your body for at least 3-5 more business days.

"Woah!" She squeaks, loosing her balance and falling with a loud smack onto the rug.

You can't control the giggle that stumbles from your lips; almost on reflex. You quickly realize your error and shut up.

It's too late; because Tara turns to you, quirking an eyebrow. Then she lets out a giggle too, smiling so wide you can see her dimples.

It's a small moment, but it means everything.

It almost feels like the past few days have never happened and Tara's still freshly your girlfriend. Floating in nothing but love-filled teasing bliss.

She opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by your phone ringing again.

"Jesus christ they won't stop calling." Tara says, slightly annoyed at the intrusion on your moment.

She hands it over to you without looking at the contact, and you scrunch your eyebrows at the unknown number.

"Hello?" You muse as you bring your phone to your ear, still staring at Tara with a playful smirk.

It falls immediately when you hear the distorted deep voice.

"Hello YN."

Your breath hitches, but you don't want to alarm Tara; so you smile at her reassuringly.

"Hey bro, what up?" You say, with all the nonchalance of talking to a close friend.

"Bro? What the hell are you talking abou-" Ghostface starts, but you cut him off immediately.

"Oh yeah yeah, I'm still in uni. I hope you're not getting into any trouble like you always do?" You continue; pursing your lips.

Maybe you'll just pretend for the rest of the conversation and not tell Tara.

"Oh Yn, you don't even know what kind of trouble I'm about to get you into." He says, tone teasing and taunting.

Your chest tightens up a bit. What does he have on you? He's bluffing, he has to be…right?

"That is so fun, but I kinda have to get back to my amazing girlfriend now; you don't mind if I hang up do you?" You smile, eyes flitting up and down Tara's small frame.

She's sitting, quite adorably, on the floor. Looking up at you with curious but shining eyes.

"Don't you dare hang up or I'm going to split you from groin to ster-" You pull the phone from your ear and press the red button.

"Well that was a little rude." She tuts, scooting closer.

You chuckle.

"Can I help it that my girlfriend is the best-est person in the world and I wanna spend every minute with her?" You ask, nudging her nose with yours.

"Best-est, huh?" She smirks, leaning in impossibly closer.

You're about to lean down and kiss Tara but it twists your wound the wrong way and you hiss.

She brings her hand up to your face and caresses the skin of your cheek.

"You okay?" She asks, brows furrowed.

You're not, and you think it might even be getting worse like she suspected; but you don't tell Tara. Instead you nod your head and give her a tight lipped smile.

She grins, and closes the distance between the two of you. She gets up off the floor and climbs on top of you so you don't have to strain your neck. She does all of this with your lips connected, and you silently marvel at her skill.

"I know you guys just got back together, but can you stop eating each other's faces right now?" Sam interrupts, quite rudely you might add.

Tara pulls away reluctantly and wipes at her mouth. She looks flushed.

"We weren't even doing anything."She mumbles underneath her breath.

"Let them be Sam, I don't think I can take another day of Tara whining about how she's not with YN anymore." Mindy says, waltzing into the room after Sam.

You cock an eyebrow at Tara, but she avoids your eye; blush creeping up her neck.

"Nice job, by the way T." Mindy adds, clicking her tongue and shooting a finger gun at the girl.

You notice the rest of the group behind them, Chad, Ethan, Anika, and some other strange man at the back.

He must see your lingering stare on him because he's moving forward and offering a hand to you.

"Danny." He rasps, mouth turned in a crooked smile.

Okay, kind of hot. You think.

"I'm Sam's..." He trails off, sending a questioning look at the older Carpenter sister.

"Danny's my boyfriend." Sam answers, and out the corner of your eye you see Danny smile a little wider.

That's cute.

"Nice to meet you Danny." You say, shaking his hand eagerly.

"So, we're all here because we need to devise a plan. To catch ghostface, once and for all." Sam says, walking to the front of the living room.

"And what exactly is your plan?" Tara asks, moving beside you and taking your hand in hers.

You notice Sam biting the inside of her cheek as she thinks.

"I'm not sure yet, that's why I all asked you here." She says.

There's a moment of silence as anyone thinks of something to say. You try to think back to your interactions with him.

"We could make a suspect list? I'm sure Mindy has a lot of theories on her mind." You suggest, glancing over at the twin.

"Yes! Thank you for bringing that up YN. Sam, move it's my time to shine." She walks up to Sam, gently nudging the Carpenter to sit on the couch.

"So we all know Ghostface has some sort of beef with all of us, but from the attacks we can assume he hates Tara and YN the most." She starts, hands on her hips.

"We know Ghostface isn't really that strong. Either that or YN is just one hell of a fighter." Mindy says, gesturing to you.

You smile shyly a little at that as heads turn toward you.

"Can I add something? Back on the balcony, where I got attacked; Ghostface seemed kind of...small." You say, pursing your lips in deep remembrance.

"Like, way shorter than the one that attacked me and Tara on that roof. So I think there might be two." You finish.

Mindy nods, like she was already expecting you to say this.

"It's always been two killers, except for Roman Bridger; kudos to him for ambition."

Chad raises his hand, waiting for Mindy's approval before he speaks.

"Could we assume the first ghostface was a guy? Because we all saw him, and he looked pretty damn big."

You nod your head in agreement, trying to think back on the night up on the roof. It's sort of hard because all you can remember is Tara kissing you for the first time.

Even after what had happened, you still considered that to be one of the best nights of your life.

What a simp.

"Now! Let's move on to our suspects..." Mindy says faintly, but you're not really focused now. You'd rather daydream about the girl sitting beside you.

The group ends up picking your apartment as the spot for Ghostface's Demise.

You'd actually been the one to suggest it yourself, it's relatively big; and didn't have one too many hiding places for him to surprise y'all in.

Tara moves to sit on your lap as you continue to plan. Papers are strewn everywhere, multiple empty coffee cups on the table. You've drawn out a map of the layout, and Sam's made it her personal mission to storyboard the whole attack.

Despite the reason for for your gathering, you can't help but smile a little at everyone huddled together. They look like a real family.

Quiet laughs are occasionally let out, teasing and poking fun about how Ghostface is gonna attack. You sort of enjoy it.

The doorbell rings and catches only yours and Tara's attention. The rest of them are still in heated discussion about whether Ghostface or Voldemort would win in a battle.

It's Voldemort, obviously.

"I'll go get it." Tara whispers, planting a firm peck to your lips and standing up. You nod, let her untangle herself from you.

It's been five minutes since Tara went and it's starting to make you feel a little antsy.

Has she been kidnapped by Ghostface or something?

She steps into the room now, and you smile at her; breathe out in relief.

You see a tiny envelope in her hands. It's ripped; and she's reading the inside.

"Any mail for me honey?" You ask teasingly, pushing yourself up on the couch slightly.

You don't notice the serious expression on her face till she tilts it up, eyes dark.

She doesn't answer as she strides to you, shoving the paper in your hands; arms crossed. She looks hurt.

"Care to explain?"

You frown, look down at the piece of crumpled paper. It's a DNA test.

At the top of the page it says:

DNA REPORT TEST

(For Personal Knowledge Only)

There's two boxes that fill up the whole paper. You stare at it, mouth agape.

It says:

CHILD (YN)

Alleged Father (Stu Macher)

Tardy, part 8

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: An unexpected family member reveal sends you spiraling, will anyone trust you now?

Warnings: Angst that turns into fluff, mention of violence, mention of sex

Word Count 2.6k

A/N: I was dying writing this chapter (both physically and mentally) but I think the writers block is gone! Thank you for 600 followers!! As always, love u guys, and tell me what you think <33

“Mom, who’s my dad?” You asked absentmindedly, legs swinging from your living room couch.

“All the other kids at school know who their dad is, who’s mine?” You continued, blissfully unaware of the tension you had just created.

Your mom turned sharply, cigarette between her lips as she spoke.

“Oh, sweetie. Your dad’s gone. It’s just you and me now.” She said as she brought the lighter up and ignited the cigarette.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” You’d asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Your mom lets out a frustrated huff before she answers again.

“I don’t know, he’s just gone. Okay? He left town. Would you leave this topic alone now?” She sounded annoyed, and you don’t want to upset her any further, so you nodded quickly and turned your attention back to the TV screen.

“Okay, Ma.”

-

You flash back into another memory, this time you’re older; freshly graduated from high school, ready to move across the country to start university.

You’ve bid your farewells to friends and relatives, promising you’ll come visit every year.

Your mom’s pulling you aside looking at you weirdly. She’s getting old, you can tell by the increasing wrinkles on her face every day.

She smiles softly, and you think she looks like the sweetest grandma ever.

“Honey, I want you to know something. About your dad.”

You raise an eyebrow, mouth dropping slightly.

Your dad has always been a touchy subject for your mom, she’s never really allowed herself to tell you the full story.

Sure, as you’ve gotten older, you’ve learned bits and pieces. He was a dirtbag, leaving your mom right after she gave birth. You’d also learned that you were born in a small town called Woodsboro but had been whisked away almost immediately.

Your mom sighs now, and everything suddenly feels very heavy.

“I just tried so hard to be both parents for you, I know it wasn’t fair to keep this from you for so long. But if you’re ready to learn who your dad is, I’m ready to tell.” She says, voice cracking only the tiniest bit. You can see how strong she’s trying to be.

You suddenly see your whole childhood flash before your eyes. Your mom sending you off and picking you up every day after school. Making meals for the two of you every night, working overtime to support the family.

“No Ma. It’s okay. I already have a dad, and his name is you.” You say, pointing to her heart.

She opens her mouth but you cut in before she can say anything.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t need a dad when I have you.” You say, and you mean it wholeheartedly.

Your mother swells with happiness and takes you in a big hug. Wraps her arms around your shoulders.

“Be safe, honey.” She whispers into your ear.

-

You splutter, staring at the page in front of you with a jumble of letters that don’t look like coherent words anymore.

No…it couldn’t be?

There’s no way your dad was Stu Fucking Macher.

It doesn’t feel like you expected it would, finding out who your real father is. Years and years of endless crying; wondering why and why and why.

Every moment has led up to this.

This light, breakable paper in your palms. It’s telling you all you’ve ever wanted to hear, and yet somehow it’s also the thing you need to hear the least.

There’s quick flashes of déjà vu as you stare at the name.

Blood; lots of it. Splattered on the ceiling, all over your body. Screams, loud and clear as day, piercing through your eardrums and starting a ringing sound.

You snap back into reality as Sam steps up to you.

You brace yourself for the worse, you wouldn’t be mad if Sam kicked you out bare into the street right then and there, hell, she could hurt you and you wouldn’t even be mad.

She raises her hand but the impact never comes. Instead, she kneels down to you and holds your shoulders tight.

“It’s okay. I know it’s hard.” She says, soft. Her lips are pulled into a frown but her eyes are sorrowful.

“It’s- it’s okay?” Tara splutters, staring between you and her sister. Flabbergasted would be a minuet way to describe her expression.

“Yes. It’s okay. Can everyone leave the room for a minute? I want to talk to YN.” Sam says, and everyone heeds her orders; shuffling down through the living room hallway.

You stare at Sam, eyebrows knit tight together. She’s hated you since you the day you met, and now she’s the one protecting you?

“Why?” You ask, curiosity seeping through your voice.

“Everyone here has been through something.” She says, biting her lip. “And believe me, if anyone knows about being framed as the bad guy, it’s me.”

She hesitates a little before she opens her mouth again.

“Let’s not pretend that everyone here doesn’t have immensely traumatic things happen to them. Me and Tara…well we know about that. But Mindy and Anika and Chad? You wouldn’t believe the stories I’ve heard from them.” She says, twiddling with her thumbs.

“What if I’m actually the killer?” You press, gauging Sam’s reaction.

She tuts and answers sharply.

“I don’t believe for a second that you are.”

It takes you aback, her being so sure about it. You stay quiet, try to think of anything to say.

You can’t, it’s all too much information to get.

“How can you know that?” You say finally, tilting your head up to make eye contact with Sam.

She pats your back lightly. “You’re a good person YN. We can all tell.”

“We’re a family. One fucked up family, but family all the same. Including you.” She says, voice sure.

You hold eye contact for a while, a silent conversation being spoken. Setting aside all your differences, Sam was actually a really cool person. And you can tell she feels the same way.

Before you know it she’s out down the same hallway the group left in.

You’re sat on the couch, mouth open and eyes glazed.

Huh.

“YN? Mind if I come in?” Tara’s voice sounds from in front of you. You can’t decipher what the tone is.

“Yeah…yeah of course.” You answer, watching as Tara enters and stands before you.

You can’t handle her intense stare, and you drop your head immediately. Anxiety floods you, heart picking up speed.

You don’t notice her until she’s right in front of you, taking your cheeks in her hands. Stroking, softly.

10 minutes ago she was mad, and now she’s comforting you? This girl and her mixed signals.

“I believe you.” She murmurs, leaning down to press her lips on your cheek. She’s so short that even when you’re sitting down you’re almost the same height.

You don’t want to think about any of this now, you don’t want to think about it ever. You want to tell Tara this, but you can’t bring yourself to speak.

Your throat feels dry, eyes slightly teary.

“So what do we do now?” You whisper.

She continues stroking your face fondly, cradles you in her arms.

“We continue with the plan.” She says, and there’s a sense of finality in it that makes you shiver.

-

They’ve pushed back the date on their plan to capture Ghostface a little bit. Tara won’t admit it, but you know she’s the one who suggested it. She must think you need time to process the sudden father reveal, no doubt.

It’s sweet, but she’s wrong. In fact, right now all you need is a distraction. Something to take your mind off all the racing thoughts through your head, the sense of betrayal you feel.

Maybe I should call my mom.

“Hey. Whatcha thinking bout?” A voice sounds from behind you. It’s Anika, and you send her a soft smile; feeling weirdly glad to be in her company.

“Oh nothing much. Just about how my dad was one of the original Ghostfaces and that we’re literally running straight into danger in a few days.” You say, trying to make your voice sound light and teasing.

Anika seems to pick up on the underlying message, and you hear her sigh a little before speaking.

She rounds the couch to come sit down beside you, a pack of medical supplies in her arms. She splays it across the table and turns back to face you.

“If it makes you feel any better, I know what it’s like to have a rough family. My parents were…dipshits to say the least.” She says, casually.

Oh.

You try and think of something appropriate to say in response, but your brain seizes up and it goes blank.

“But you don’t have to feel bad for me. I have a new family now.” She continues, smiling at you; genuine crinkles at the tips of her eyes. She pats your back lightly.

“Just so you know, I don’t think you’re the killer. Who cares if your dad is Ghostface? It’s not like this is the first time it’s happened in our friend group. I trust you, really.”

It’s enough to make you teary-eyed again. You look away, hoping she can’t see them.

“Thank you.” You mumble. “That means a lot to me.”

She chuckles warmly before taking you in a hug. You guys don’t say anything the rest of the time she fixes up your wound.

-

“Are you blushing?” Tara asks immediately when Anika leaves the room, footsteps light.

“What? No, I’m not.” You say, running a hand through your hair.

“Did she make you blush?” She’s asking, a teasing smile on her lips.

You frown.

“She just said some very nice things to me, okay?” You huff, cross your arms like a child.

“Aw, baby. You look adorable.” She murmurs, giving you a peck on the lips.

“Are you not jealous?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow at her.

She brings a finger to her lips and feigns thoughtfulness. Then she smiles wide and takes your lips in a searing kiss.

“No.” She mumbles against them. “Because I know you’re mine. And I can definitely make you do a lot more than blush.”

It’s enough to make you flush completely red. You let out a little whine at her words.

“See?” She’s asking as she leans back, a smirk on her lips. You try and wipe it off by wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her in for another kiss.

She’s not wrong. But you’re not going to admit that. It’s a fatal flaw, really. How easily you relent when it comes to Tara. You’d die for her, you’d kill for her, and she knows it.

“Come on,” She’s whispering. “Let’s go to my room.”

You pull back, amused.

“I don’t think I can even stand and you’re asking me to do what?” You ask pointedly.

She tugs on your shirt, obviously not in the mood to play one of your games right now.

“Then maybe I’ll just take you right here.” She whispers into your ear, laughing as you shiver beneath her.

You gulp, stare at her with big eyes. She crawls forward, leaning her elbows into your sides on instinct.

You can’t help but wince.

It seems to break Tara out of her lustful haze, because now she’s looking at you with worried eyes.

She’s getting up kind of panicky, fiddling with her hands.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I should let you sleep.” She says, sort of fast, words tumbling out of her.

You smile at her, grip her hands tight.

“It’s okay, Tara. Although, I do want to hit the hay for a while. Care to join me?” You invite, tugging her closer slightly to make sure she doesn’t leave.

She grins shyly and nods.

“Okay.” She says, biting the inside of her cheek. She’s the cutest with the excitement that radiates off her.

-

When you wake, Tara’s not in your arms anymore. You stir, rubbing your eyes aggressively.

“Tara?” You groan, trying to look around the weirdly dim room for any sign of your girlfriend.

You notice the candles immediately, more than a dozen of them lining the table and making a little pathway to the fireplace.

Your girlfriend appears in front of you now, wearing a little white sundress; one you’d specifically bought for her weeks ago.

She looks so good, you almost start drooling. Like an angel, the way she’s standing and staring at you, playful, excited gaze.

“I was wondering when you were going to wake up.” She grins, bending down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“What is all this?” You question, looking around the room in further inspection.

There are two plates set up quite nicely on the dining table, along with a bottle of champagne and a single flower in the middle.

It’s all so, romantic.

Tara twirls, and gives you a little show of her dress. Then she takes your hand and gently helps you up, leading you to the dining room with her.

“I never got to take you on a date. I think it’s time I return the favor.” She says, nodding along to her sentence; like a reassurance.

“You’re adorable.“ You say, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. She blushes a little.

“Thank you.” She mumbles.

The smell as you enter the dining room is mouth-watering. You recognize it immediately. It’s your favorite pasta, ravioli with white wine and tomatoes.

Tara’s an amazing cook, you know this already. But the flavors that explode in your mouth when you take a bite out of it are otherworldly.

“This is the best thing you’ve ever cooked.” You speak through stuffed cheeks, eyes wide and happy.

Tara picks up a piece of her own and eats it.

“I didn’t know what to make you, so I called your mom. She said this was your favorite, so I went on youtube and tried to replicate the recipe.” She says, somewhat shyly.

You beam.

“You called my mom?” You ask, teasingly. Boop her on the nose. You celebrate internally when you see her flush red.

“Yeah, it was no biggie. Just a phone call.” She disregards, biting her bottom lip to try and stop the color that’s overtaking her whole face.

She reaches forward to grab another piece of ravioli before she stops short and gasps.

“Oh! I almost forgot to give you these.” Tara says, reaching behind her chair for something. She pulls out a huge bouquet of flowers, filled with your favorites.

You don’t try and hide the surprise in your face, mouth open and gaping.

She slaps your arm lightly at your reaction.

“Hey! I can be romantic too you know.”

You nod sarcastically.

“Oh yeah no doubt no doubt.” You say, taking the bouquet from her hands in favor of bending over the table and kissing her.

“Thank you, baby.” You say against her lips. She smiles wide, scrunching her nose as she pulls back.

“You taste like pasta!” She’s giggling, pushing you back into your chair.

You finish the dinner in record time, and that’s due entirely to how good the meal was. You and Tara sit and talk for a little while before moving to the floor to watch a movie.

Tara’s annoyingly secretive about it, not letting you see whatever she’s setting up. You huff and go grab snacks from the fridge instead.

When you get back it’s to the TV covered, and there’s a small projector at the side shining light on a random bed sheet she’s hung vertically.

“Impressive speed.” You praise.

Tara’s sitting smugly, arms open and inviting you to come sit.

It’s playing 10 Things I Hate About You, one of your all-time favorite movies. You settle down into the spot next to her and sneak a glance over, but she’s already staring at you; hard.

You let out a breath of happiness and pull her closer by the waist. Kiss her on the forehead, murmur against her skin.

“Thank you for this. I needed it.”

She nods into you and pulls you impossibly closer.

“Of course.” She says.

You decide Ghostface can wait, your dad can wait. All that matters right now is Tara. Her and this movie and you.

The only three things that exist in the world.

movie night vi

Summary: A theatre full of paraphernalia and a date night with your godmother. What could possibly go wrong?

Word Count: 6.5k Warnings: swearing, Scream-typical violence, grief mention, scar mention, mentions of past Ghostfaces/attacks Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (pt.i) (pt.ii) (pt.iii) (pt.iv) (pt.v) (pt.vi)

“Where are we going again?” You asked as you jogged awkwardly to catch up with Gale.

“Just come on,” she said before continuing to speed walk down the streets of New York.

The day had been chaotic before you had even woken up. You had vaguely been aware of Tara laying completely on top of you, almost like a weighted blanket, and it had been nice. But then you heard yelling, and shouting, and heavy footsteps, and the loud crack of your door being thrown open and slamming into the wall. Both you and Tara flinched, with her pressing down on one (all) of your wounds, and she stood up quickly while you rolled onto your side and tried not to show how badly it hurt.

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!” Dicky said with an annoying smile that quickly turned into a frown. “The hell is wrong with you?”

“Didn’t Ma ever teach you to knock?” You asked, doing your best not to groan when you pushed yourself up to your feet.

“Time for coffee,” he said. “Made a cup special for you, Tara,” he said with a smile before backing out of the door. “Don’t keep her waitin’!”

It was a quick rush through coffee, a berating from Ma about how you “made” Tara sleep on the floor, and then a moment to say your goodbyes before Gale ushered the four of you out of the front door of the brownstone. You pretended not to notice Tara and Sam looking around and trying to figure out where they were.

You all followed Gale through the streets until ending up in an alley that Sam and Tara had been hesitant to enter. Not that you blamed them, they didn’t exactly have the best luck with sketchy situations. It wasn’t an unwarranted fear; you had been jumped in alleys plenty of times, and that didn’t even hold a candle to their trauma.

“How did you even find any of this?” Sam asked when Gale searched at the end of the alley.

“It’s called investigative journalism,” Gale answered with a smile. “Now come on in,” she said, “you’re going to want to see this.”

“Well now you’re sketchin’ me out,” you grumbled when you passed her, forcing open the door she was struggling with. It was heavy and a bit rusted, but you managed just fine.

And if you hoped Tara saw your muscles there for a second, well, that was nobody’s business.

You stood aside as all three women walked into the building that you presumed was abandoned. Honestly, it reminded you of the building you had taken Tara to all those weeks ago. Except hopefully no one barged in unannounced this time. Last thing you needed was three trauma survivors losing their shit.

Again, it was warranted, but you could only do so much to help.

The door slammed shut behind you, leaving the sound to echo in the empty hallway. If you had been alone, you would have gone exploring. There was nothing more exciting than an abandoned building in the middle of New York, especially one you hadn’t been in before. God, think of the possibilities of what could be in there? There were definitely some treasures to be discovered, no doubt about it.

“Hey Tara,” you said as you finally caught up with the group, “this kinda reminds me of our movie redo.”

“What?” She asked, her voice a little quieter than usual.

“You know, when you put on Titanic and we thought we were gonna get disappeared?”

“What?” Sam asked, and you all froze.

“Nice going,” Tara whisper-shouted at you.

“Uh-” you looked around frantically, “-what’s that up ahead?”

You smiled bashfully at Sam as you pushed past her, doing your best not to let her glare kill you. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought up the date, that was a bad decision on your part. Sometimes silence was your best friend. And unfortunately, you continuously pushed that best friend aside until you got in trouble because… well… sometimes you were a little stupid.

Gale walked in tandem with you as you led the way through the rest of the hall until you reached the open theatre. Sam and Tara stopped in their tracks once they caught up. The quiet gasp from your left side was devastating. The deafening thump in your chest nearly drowned it out; you wish it had.

“What the fuck,” Sam said softly before hesitantly moving forward to check out one of the many glass cases in the abandoned theatre.

“Are these props?” Tara asked with a shaky voice.

“They’re real,” Gale said as she, too, moved toward one of the cases.

Tara left your side to go to Sam, the both of them studying each case. You watched her carefully. Watched the way she hovered her scarred hand over her midsection, almost protectively. Watched the way her eyes darted all around the room, almost as if looking for the ghosts that haunted her even though she tried to push them out.

Your heart waged a war with your head as Tara continued to walk around, her hand lightly running over the glass, or almost-but-not-quite touching one of the items. Did you go over and reminisce with her? Or did you let her process everything on her own, without fear of your judgment or pity? If it were you, you weren’t entirely sure which you would prefer either.

In the end, you decided to let her process everything with Sam. They had both gone through the same thing and had already survived two Ghostfaces together, they could be there for each other. You watched her for just a few more moments before shaking your head slowly and walking over to where Gale was still standing in front of a specific glass case.

“That’s Dewey,” she said softly, her eyes glued to a notebook with drawings in it. Beside it was a knife.

Your jaw clenched.

“He had wanted to meet you,” she said, looking up at you with teary eyes and a sad smile. “Before everything.”

You nodded slowly. “I hear he was a good man.”

“The best,” she confirmed.

“Is that the knife?” You asked as you uncrossed your arms from your chest.

“Yeah,” she said with her own nod. “They used it on Tara too.”

You both turned slowly until you were looking at the stage, where both Sam and Tara were standing and looking at the Ghostface costumes. The blood in your veins boiled, leaving behind a deep ache that you couldn’t quite explain. With a forced huff through your nose, you turned back to look at the knife.

Amber had used it. She had used it on Tara. How could she do that? How could she try to kill her own girlfriend for, what, clout? To be known as the one who took down a Legacy? It made you furious and left your whole body shaking. Your family had done many things, but killing someone you loved had never been one of them. It took a real monster to do such a thing.

You had no sympathy for monsters.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Gale said. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see her staring at you. The hair on the back of your neck stood up.

“I don’t want her to see it,” you said slowly.

There was a second of hesitation. “Be quiet about it.”

Gale walked away to go stand beside the girls, and you waited until their backs were to you before you dug around in your pocket. It was a simple tool, one Joel had gotten for your birthday way back in the day. With the practiced ease of a professional, you picked the lock to the glass case and opened the lid. You looked back at the stage to make sure they weren’t watching before you reached in and grabbed the knife.

It felt heavy in your hand. You weren’t entirely sure if it was from the actual weight, or the knowledge of who’s blood it had spilled. Whatever the case, you carefully slid it into your boot, being careful not to knick your ankle. It wouldn’t do you any good to hurt yourself while trying to be sneaky.

The cold steel of the blade was jarring as you finally started making your way up to the stage. All three women were still standing there, looking at all the different costumes stuck in their displays. It was haunting, like they were all staring down at you. How could the three of them be perfectly fine just standing in the middle of them? The feeling made your head spin.

“They’re creepier without anyone in them,” you mumbled. You hadn’t intended for anyone to hear, but everyone turned to look at you.

“That’s because you haven’t seen them kill your friends yet,” Sam said with a roll of her eyes before she stalked away.

“I didn’t-”

“-I’ll go talk to her,” Gale said. She patted your unhurt shoulder before walking off to join Sam on the other side of the theatre.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you immediately said once you were left alone with Tara. She turned to face you with softened eyes.

“I know,” she said before walking over to sit on the edge of the stage. Her legs hung off the side and you noticed her shoulders slump.

You quickly moved to sit on her left, being careful not to jostle your stitches a little too much. It happened anyway, but you tried to keep your pained huffs to yourself. Fortunately, Tara didn’t seem to notice; she was far too lost in her own thoughts.

The score from one of the Stab movies quietly echoed throughout the enormous room. It wasn’t loud enough to truly draw one’s attention, but you heard it. Whatever psycho had created the shrines must have kept a running loop of the movies. What kind of sicko would keep shrines to a murderer? No, scratch that, to multiple murderers?

No one understood murder paraphernalia quite like your family; you knew what kind of money you could get off selling them. Whoever had created the shrine must have dropped massive money on all of the items. Or, which could be likely for all you knew, they knew the owner of most of the items. Which would mean they were a suspect for this next Ghostface crew.

Wait. That might be right on the money, actually.

“You need to go home,” Tara said quietly, drawing you out of your thoughts. You turned to look at her, but she wasn’t looking at you.

“What?” You asked.

She turned her head slightly. “You need to go home.”

“Why would I do that?” You furrowed your brows. That statement didn't make any sense, what did she think you were, a coward?

“They’re after Woodsboro,” she said. “You’re not Woodsboro.”

“So?” You asked with a shake of your head. “Out of this current predicament, I’ve got more stitches than all of you combined, save dear Anika.”

“Which is why you should leave,” she continued. “No sense dying over something that isn’t your fight.”

“What makes you think I’m gonna die?” You asked.

Tara went silent and finally looked at you full-on. There was almost a resignation in her eyes. What could possibly be going on in her head that would have her saying such ridiculous things? You weren’t a coward and you certainly weren’t going to die. Vitales didn’t die, they got their revenge. And you were just one Ghostface call away from losing your shit.

“The love interest always dies,” she finally said with a shrug. It wasn’t very convincing.

“So I’m the love interest now?” You asked. If she didn’t lighten up soon, you were going to lose it.

“I’m not playing this game with you,” she huffed.

“Tara.” You reached out to grab her left hand, but she quickly recoiled as if you had shocked her. Her scarred hand quickly found a new home in her lap. You did your best not to show how badly that simple move had hurt you.

“I don’t want to get hurt again,” she said softly. “So leave before I make you.”

“Then make me leave,” you said. Her head turned sharply. “Because I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.”

She wanted to argue. You could see it on her face that she wanted to refute your statement. Maybe she would have said something hurtful, something to make you regret associating with her. Or she would go low, insulting you and pushing you away until you wanted to leave. She was more than welcome to try; it wouldn’t change your mind.

You heard her swallow harshly. She looked at you for a few more moments, holding your gaze. Her eyes darted back and forth between yours, and you did your best to keep your features soft. Her insistence on you leaving was still raising your blood pressure, but you weren’t going to let her know that. She had enough on her plate anyway.

A soft, almost silent sigh fell from her slightly parted lips. It was a sigh you often heard from your Pop when he was going over reports for the week; a sigh of resignation and acceptance. Extremely heavy underneath the silence of it all. You wished you could take it all away from her, take all the weight off her shoulders.

Tara let her body fall to the side until her head was resting on your shoulder, and you both just looked out at the Ghostface paraphernalia. What did she feel when she saw those things? Was it a fear that she would be attacked again, that maybe she wouldn’t make it to the end again? Or was it anger at the whole situation, at whoever was trying to attack her this time? Or maybe it was just a mix of everything, you weren’t sure and quite frankly, you knew better than to ask.

You were simply angry. Pure and simple.

“You’re really not leaving?” Tara asked, her voice fragile.

“I mean,” you shrugged with one shoulder to avoid disturbing her, “I’ll have to leave to pee at some point.”

“You’re such a dick,” she huffed as she sat up.

“But aside from that you’re stuck with me,” you said with a smile.

“I hate you,” she shook her head and looked at you.

“Sure you do,” you said. Her eyes flickered to your lips, and you leaned down to-

“-ahem.”

You both sat up quickly, separating yourselves as much as possible. Sam and Gale were standing in front of you. Sam very much didn’t look happy and, quite frankly, almost looked like she would rip your head off if given the chance. Which she probably would. Gale, on the other hand, was barely even trying to hide her little smirk.

“Done reminiscing over your daddy issues?” You asked Sam.

“Just shut up,” Tara whispered.

“Done harassing my sister?” Sam asked back.

“Not harassment if she likes it,” you shot back.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Tara said loudly. “What’s our next move?”

“You and I stick together,” Sam said. “We need to go check up on Anika and the twins.”

“Productive,” you said with a nod. “While you go socialise, Gale and I will solve this case.”

“It’s not some murder mystery game,” Sam said with a pointed look at you. “These guys are lethal.”

“So am I,” you said slowly, drawing out each word. “And I’m gonna figure this shit out before someone else gets hurt.”

“You’re already hurt,” Tara said quietly with a frown.

“Before someone gets more hurt,” you corrected. “I’ll find your guy in 24 hours or your money back, guaranteed.”

“Can you ever take anything seriously?” Sam asked with a tilt of her head.

“Not at all,” you answered with a smile.

“We’re really separating?” Tara asked. “Do you really think that’s the smartest thing to do?”

“You’ll be with the trio,” you said. “And Gale has survived, what, 11 Ghostfaces?” She nodded in the affirmative. “So I think we’re okay.”

“Then let’s get going,” Sam said as she crossed her arms over her chest. “This place is starting to give me the creeps.”

Both you and Tara slid off the stage until you were standing with the other two, all looking at each other and waiting for someone to make the first move. When no one did, you decided it would have to be you. Pop had taught you to be a leader, you supposed. If they needed someone to keep them safe and lead the way, you would take that responsibility upon yourself.

The sun was still blindingly bright when you all walked out of the abandoned building. Everyone blinked rapidly, trying to ease their eyes back to the amount of light. It was almost like when you walked out of a movie theatre in the middle of the day; logically you knew it was still daytime, but you weren’t expecting the sun. If everyone hadn’t been so grumpy and serious, you would’ve laughed at them.

“Keep your phones on,” Sam said once you all made it back to the street. “And call if you hear anything.”

“Yes, mom,” you huffed. “God, I almost preferred it when you hated me.”

“I still do,” she said quickly. But you could see the slightest softening of her eyes.

“Seriously,” Tara chimed in, looking directly into your eyes. It was almost uncomfortable. “Call.”

“We got it, damn,” you said, “chill out.”

“That’s not something you say to people trying to keep you safe,” Gale mumbled into your ear.

“Anyway,” you said pointedly, “go check on everyone. We’ll call if we need something.”

“Or if something happens,” Tara emphasises.

“Or if something happens,” you repeat back to her. 

She wasn’t very happy with you, it was more than obvious. Not that you could exactly blame her, again, you understood her situation. Well, you mostly understood her situation. If someone had been going after your loved ones - aside from the obvious situation at hand - you would have been paranoid and extra worried too. She had every right to be concerned.

But you knew your shit.

“Okay,” Tara finally said softly with a single nod. “Yeah, okay.” It was as if she was trying to convince herself that you would be fine.

You had this.

“Get goin’,” you teased Tara when Sam and Gale started to go their separate ways. “Sam might go all Ghostface on me.”

“I’m serious about being careful,” she said as her fingers absentmindedly brushed against one of the bruises on  your arm.

“I got this,” you said. “I’m Italian, remember?”

“You’re insufferable,” she said even as she gave you a little smirk.

“You like it,” you said with your own smile.

You looked around for a second, just to make sure Sam wasn’t watching, before leaning down and kissing Tara. Her lips were soft, just like they always were. It wasn’t a long kiss; there were too many things going on and, quite frankly, you were both rather distracted. But it was comforting, and you wanted to remind her that you weren’t going anywhere unless the devil himself came and dragged you down to hell.

“Be safe,” Tara mumbled against your lips when she pulled away.

“Yes ma’am,” you answered.

You pressed one more chaste kiss to her lips before standing up. She walked backwards for a bit, keeping her eyes locked with yours. When she finally spun back around to catch up with Sam, your stomach dropped. It didn’t feel right for her to be walking away. That foreboding feeling settled deep in your stomach and you frowned.

“You coming, Romeo?” Gale called out, and you spun quickly to see her standing a lot closer than you had thought.

“Can you be a normal person for just five minutes?” You asked as you both started walking off to her apartment.

“You like her,” she said, the both of you falling into step with each other. A power team for sure, you had no doubt.

“A lot,” you said quickly. “I’m not throwing the L word out just yet, but you know.” You shrugged.

“But it’s likely,” Gale teased. You refused to look at her, but you could hear the smile in her voice.

You paused. “It’s likely.”

The rest of the walk to the apartment was nice. It was just turning into spring and the weather was starting to warm up, and the streets didn’t smell so much like rotting garbage. Hell, the air was practically crystal clear! You had never breathed so clearly in your life! The world was looking up, that was for sure.

You both waved hello to Michael the Doorman when you walked into the apartment complex. He smiled back and waved, bidding you both a good afternoon. You had always liked Michael; he was sweet. And in a fight? There was no doubt he was lethal, you didn’t have that many muscles purely for aesthetic, not in New York. You trusted him with Gale’s life.

That was a hard trust to earn.

“You should tell her,” Gale said when the elevator doors closed and started heading up to the apartment. “Once this is over.”

“Tell her what?” You asked even though you had an idea.

“That you “likely” feel the L word for her.” Her words were teasing, but her tone said something different.

You didn’t say anything in reply. The elevator doors opened and you both quickly made your way to her apartment, and you listened to her lock all the locks while you walked over to the kitchen and threw open the fridge door. If Gale had asked you what was in it, you couldn’t have told her; you might have been looking but you weren’t seeing.

The thought of telling Tara how you felt had you cottonmouthed. Sure, you were fighting against a serial killer together, but that wasn’t near as terrifying as talking about your feelings! How were you going to explain any of that to her? She barely even tolerated you at this point (at least she pretended to). You were catching on that it was a defense mechanism, but still. It was enough to give you pause.

“What do we have for dinner later?” Gale asked, popping up beside you once again. You didn’t even flinch.

“I don’t even know,” you admitted before closing the fridge door. “Wanna just order takeout?”

“That Korean place on the corner?”

“Absolutely,” you nodded, already salivating at the thought of that stunningly beautiful seafood hot pot. Oh, now you definitely couldn’t wait until dinner.

You and Gale separated for an hour, using the time to refresh yourselves and rest. It was a wonderful routine you had both come up with back in the day when you would sneak into her apartment after nearly getting into some deep shit. You had only needed to surprise her the first time before she learned, and she made sure to keep spare things for you.

And thankfully, you had stashed away some of your things too.

You finished tightening the bulletproof vest before heading back to the living room. It was old, a little worn, but it was still good. There was no expectation for gunshots, but you knew it could keep you at least mostly safe from a knife. If those fuckers were going to come for you, you were going to be prepared. The painful stretch of stitches reminded you how important that was.

“I’m going to go ahead and order dinner,” Gale said when you plopped onto the couch and started setting up your laptop. “The usual?”

“Yes please,” you called out. Your fingers flew across the keys, desperately searching for something that you weren’t prepared to see.

Wait.

“Did you just order three meals?” You asked, turning around and throwing your arm over the back of the couch.

Gale froze. “Yes I did.”

“Don’t you dare bring your boy toy in here tonight,” you said with a pointed finger. “I’m not in the mood to play nice.”

“We all need our stress relief,” she shot back, walking around the room until she sat next to you on the couch. “You should try it, you know.”

“There’s a killer targeting us and you’re bringing him?” You groaned. “He’s going to get us killed.”

“There’s strength in numbers, Y/N,” Gale said softly. You sighed and leaned back.

“I’m not afraid to push him in between you and Ghostface,” you finally said.

“I know,” she said with her own small smile. “What are you looking for?”

“My motive,” you said as you turned back to the laptop.

“Is that security footage?” She asked, leaning closer to look at your screen.

“Of Tara’s house from last year,” you explained.

She jolted back as if shocked. “You’re going to watch the attack?”

“I have to, Gale,” you sighed. “I have to see it.”

“You won’t ever get those images or sounds out of your head,” she said.

“I’ve seen attacks before,” you said with a shrug. It didn’t ease the shake in your hands.

“Not on someone you love,” she said far too softly. It was cutting.

“I have to watch this and the hospital,” you said. “I have to.”

“Why?” Gale asked. “Why do you have to put those things in your head?”

“Because,” you said, finally turning to look her in the eyes. You didn’t think you had ever seen her look so sad. “I need to guarantee I’m pissed enough to kill the fucker.”

The sadness on Gale’s face slowly morphed into something else. Her eyes trailed away until she was staring at your laptop screen once again. You wouldn’t dare watch the hospital if she was in the room, not when you knew Dewey had been killed there. But hopefully she would understand.

You knew the images and sounds would haunt you until the day you died. There was no way you would ever be able to get it out of your head. Yes, you were no stranger to death, but to watch someone you… appreciated getting tortured and used for nothing but sadistic joy? It set off something primal, an anger you didn’t think you had ever felt yet.

Those fuckers would have it coming.

“Come get me when you’re done,” Gale said with an absentminded nod. “And stop if you need to.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said just as softly.

She barely let you finish before she got up and left. You didn’t blame her. But when she was finally gone, you weren’t so sure you wanted to watch the footage anymore. Could you handle such a thing? Could you genuinely handle watching Tara get hurt? You weren’t so sure.

But you needed to be sure you could kill if needed.

You didn’t give yourself time to change your mind before pressing play on the footage. The vest dug into the tops of your thighs as you leaned forward to get a better look. Her house was nice; why she was alone, though, you had no idea. You would need to ask her about it. Shouldn’t she have been out having fun with her friends?

Just like Pop had taught you, you ceaselessly searched every inch of the screen for some sort of warning. Tara wouldn’t have known that, of course, but you wanted to see where she had missed Ghostface. If you could find where the fucker usually came from, you could prevent it from happening again. Yeah, they were different people, but they seemed to follow some ridiculous movie pattern anyway.

They needed to be more original.

The moment you saw the fear on Tara’s face and heard it in her voice, you knew the footage had done its job. You saw red before Ghostface even appeared. To watch the struggle, hear her screams, see her blood smeared around the house… it was more than enough. Your stomach twisted in knots and you felt sick.

And yet, you clicked on the next clip to watch the hospital.

That one almost made you even more furious, which you hadn’t expected. Tara was already injured and weak, and yet the bastard came back for more? For what, an added little “fuck you?” You quickly understood why Tara had that almost unnoticeable limp.

You turned the footage off before Dewey was killed. There had already been enough destruction, you couldn’t watch the love of Gale’s life get murdered in cold blood. It was all too much, you couldn’t handle another one. And besides, Gale was right. The sounds of Tara’s desperate cries and screams were already bouncing around the inside of your skull.

Your phone rang on the table beside your laptop, and you subconsciously picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Sick to your stomach yet?”

Fuck.

You slammed your laptop closed and stood up, practically sprinting to Gale’s room. She was sitting on her bed reading a book, and for a moment you just looked at her. She looked so peaceful. There was no stress of a news story, nothing about a new book, she was just… your godmother Gale again. You missed seeing her like that.

“Cat got your tongue?” 

You paused. He had used that exact phrase before. Maybe the same suspect was the caller each time.

“Gale,” you whisper-shouted. She looked up at you with a smile before seeing the phone in your hand.

“Is it him?” She asked.

You just nodded.

“I’m not afraid of a little blood,” you said into the phone, waiting until Gale was right beside you before heading back to the living room.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Not at all,” you said. You quickly reached down to pull the Ghostface knife from your boot. “You’re just a coward in a mask.”

“How did you like the film?”

The knife was heavy in your palm as you stood back-to-back with Gale. “Last movie I watched was Titanic,” you answered. “It was okay.”

“That’s a lie.” A creak had you turning your head to face the balcony. Empty. “You watched Pearl on your date night with Tara.”

How did he know that?

“I was watching Tara, not the movie,” you said. Where was he? “It doesn’t count.”

“I mean the one where dear Tara was the star.” A shiver went down your spine. “She might be the next Scream Queen.”

You saw red.

“The villain was below par,” you said. Another phone rang, and you felt Gale move behind you. “Let the Opening Kill turn into a Final Girl.”

You turned your body slightly to see Gale put the phone on speaker and wait. It was agonising. The static coming through the speaker was like mosquitos near your ear; constant and irritating with no way to stop it. As much as you despised them, you would hand it to them; they knew how to make things hurt.

“Hello, Gale.” The blood drained from her face. “You both look lovely this evening.”

Keep him talking, you mouthed to Gale, who nodded.

“I was wondering if you would ever call me,” she said as you turned back around to look out at the room. “I was starting to feel left out.”

“I figured you were.” You hung up your own phone and texted Tara. “After all, I’ve called your little godchild twice already.”

“Want to ask your question?” She asked. You slid your phone into your back pocket; you didn’t need an answer. “Or are you just going to shoot the breeze?”

“I don’t have any questions for you.” You reached your free hand back until you could touch Gale; you needed to keep track of where she was at all times. “I have one for your little guest, though.”

“Ask away,” you said without taking your eyes off the room. “I’m an open book.”

“How much would you sacrifice for your dear, sweet godmother?”

Behind you, Gale stiffened.

“I’d sacrifice my left nut,” you chuckled. “Maybe my right tit too.”

“How about your life?”

Your blood ran cold. Gale’s hand reached back and grabbed your forearm, squeezing it tight enough to bruise. Her nails dug into your skin when she turned around and stood beside you, looking out at the room. The air was heavy, suffocating.

The sound of boots hitting the wooden floor was deafening.

Your stomach dropped when two cloaked figures stepped into the room, walking in tandem until they stood in front of you.

Sam was right. They were more terrifying with people underneath the masks.

“Let’s play a game.”

“This isn’t Saw,” you said quickly. 

Neither of the Ghostfaces in front of you had a phone to their ear. The call was too clear for a bluetooth headset.

There was a third killer.

“Drop the knife and step forward.” Gale’s grip on your arm tightened. “Or I’ll pay your dear Tara a visit.”

The phone vibrated in Gale’s hand, and you both looked at the screen. It was an image. An image of Tara sitting in the hospital room with everyone else, including an awake Anika, laughing at something. Her phone was upside down on the table beside her.

She hadn’t seen your text.

You looked at Gale. She was already shaking her head, but you couldn’t just let that creep get Tara. The whole gang was there, but two of them were injured and it was a hospital. Honestly, the last time Tara had been in a hospital, it hadn’t ended well. And with two of them, you weren’t going to keep Gale safe on your own.

It was a zero-sum game.

“Still have that birthday present I got you?” You asked when you handed her the knife. She nodded once. “Don’t forget it.”

You leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before turning around and heading to stand in front of the two Ghostfaces.

“Turn around.”

“You’re a bossy motherfucker, you know that?” You called out, but did as instructed.

A sharp pain went through your leg when one of them kicked the back of your knee. Another shot went up your spine when you fell into a kneeling position.

“Let’s play a game.” Gale locked eyes with you. “I’ll ask you a few questions. Every wrong answer leads to a stabbing.”

“And every right answer?” She asked.

“No stabbing.”

You exhaled shakily and your jaw tightened.

“Simple enough,” she said. “First question?”

“I’ll start easy.” You nervously licked your lips. “Which movie is Jack Torrence in?”

“The Shining,” Gale answered quickly.

“Very good.” One of the boots behind you started tapping against the floor. “Who was the very first kill of the Stab franchise?”

“Before the film plot? Or during?” Gale asked. You hid your smirk. She was far too smart for her own good sometimes.

“During.”

“Casey Brecker,” she answered quickly.

“Ooh, not quite, Gale.” Your stomach dropped. “It was actually-”

“-Casey’s boyfriend!” She shouted quickly, snapping her fingers near her temple. “Steven. Steven, uh, Orth!”

There was silence on the other end of the phone. You both locked eyes with each other. Was he going to accept it? She had corrected it before he had, it counted, right? Jesus fuck, is this what he put Tara through??

“I’ll accept it this once.” You both sighed. “But with a small price.”

You hissed when a sudden pain radiated from your thigh. Looking down quickly you saw blood already starting to soak through your jeans.

“Next question.” You looked back up at Gale quickly. She better get the next one right; these fuckers weren’t playing around. “How many kills has Ghostface gotten?”

“I don’t know,” Gale whispered. “I don’t know.”

“Tick-tock, Gale.” Boots thumped on the floor behind you. “Or we’ll add another one to the count.”

“Just give me a second,” she rushed. Her lips were moving as she counted, doing the mental calculations.

You could feel someone standing directly behind you. Not to the side, but so close you could feel their body heat against your back. Could he see the bulletproof vest? Oh god, you hoped not. Oh please don’t see the vest, please don’t see the-

“-time’s up.”

Gale’s eyes went wide before you felt something hit your back with enough force to send you forward onto your hands. Something hurt, but you couldn’t tell if it was the knife or the sheer force of the stab. The room was silent.

You froze.

“It seems you’ve cheated.” You looked up at Gale; you didn’t think you had ever seen so much sheer terror in her eyes before. “You’re not a very good sport.”

A hand grabbed you by the shoulder and yanked you back up to your feet. You bit down harshly on your tongue when of the fingers dug into some stitches. The taste of metal was nauseating. A second hand grabbed you by the jaw.

“We don’t play well with cheaters.”

“Don’t,” Gale said. She wasn’t even talking into the phone anymore. “Please don’t.”

“Birthday gift,” you said through clenched teeth. “Go.”

“Say good night, Gale.”

“Gale just-”

-Gale screamed-

-your hammering heart stopped when the cold steel slid through your flesh. It didn’t hurt.

The blade was cold against your tongue.

Why was Gale crying?

The blade ripped forward, tearing through your cheeks.

Your head jerked to the side as your body fell forward. By some miracle, you caught yourself with your hands, keeping you bent over. Something wet fell down your cheeks.

A red puddle started to form underneath you.

“You should run, Gale.”

You heard something drop to the floor. Light footsteps were quickly followed by heavy boots. It felt like you were trying to breathe through water. The liquid was thick in your mouth but you couldn’t swallow.

Three gunshots echoed through the apartment.

Gale. You needed to go help Gale.

Your head swam as you tried to push yourself up to your feet. There was a slight throb in your entire face. Something felt sticky. You lifted a hand to your mouth to wipe it off as you finally got to your feet.

When you pulled it away, it was dripping red.

Something vibrated in your back pocket. You continued to stumble your way down the hallway.

The vibrating continued.

Gale had to be somewhere close. Birthday gift. She kept it in her closet. In a safe. Ghostface didn’t carry guns. It would keep her safe and she would be okay-

-another gunshot-

-something slammed into your chest. You stumbled back, hitting the wall. Everything in front of you started twisting and turning.

Something wet dripped down your fingertips.

You let your shaky knees give out underneath you as you slid to the floor. The thump of your heart was felt in your mouth.

"Oh my god, Y/N."

Something clashed to the floor.

"Look at me, baby, open your eyes."

But they felt so heavy. You forced them open anyway. Why was Gale crying?

Something solid thumped on the floor.

And again.

And again.

"Take another step and I'll gut you like a fish."

She sounded so angry.

Your eyes started to fall shut.

"No, Y/N, don't close your eyes."

Your fingers were cold.

"Wake up, goddammit!"

Just a few minutes.

Your eyes closed.

the shakespeare exhibit - part 8

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which you and tara both have things to talk about

warnings: mentions of stabbing, talks of substance abuse and verbal abuse

word count: 2700+

previous part | next part

Finals season was in full swing at Blackmore University, sending its students into poor sleep schedules and even worse diets as they attempted to cram a semester’s worth of information into their brains.

You and Tara, unfortunately, were no exception. For the past week, the two of you had holed yourselves up in either the library or one of your apartments, your noses stuck in your books and your hands fumbling around for an energy drink whenever you needed a pick-me-up.

The only time you had taken a break was to celebrate Tara’s 20th birthday, but even then it was hardly a celebration. You had gathered all of her friends at her apartment, had a small party consisting of drinks and movies, and then went right back to studying, Tara in tow.

Safe to say, the stress levels were at an all-time-high, especially for Tara, who was experiencing her first round of finals in university. You had offered her a few studying tips, since you had already gone through the struggles of freshman-year exams the year prior, before immersing yourself in your own revision.

You were in the midst of reviewing for your Romantic Literature course--the last final that you had for the semester--when your mother called you, leading you to slip out of Tara’s bedroom and into the hallway to speak to her.

Tara sat at her desk, grumbling as she tried to study for her Introduction to Literature course. This is just as stupid as it was when I was studying for the midterm, she thought, eyes scanning her notes about Emily Dickinson. Maybe it’s even more stupid now.

Your voice broke her concentration as you walked back into her room, and she twisted her chair around to face you. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll ask her, alright?” You rolled your eyes and pointed at your phone, mouthing, she talks so much. Tara giggled softly, extending her arms for you to stand between, and you sighed as you slid into place, her fingers rubbing over your hips. “Okay. Yup. Yeah, okay. Yeah. Right. Okay, bye, mom.”

“What was that all about?” Tara asked when you hung up, throwing your phone onto her desk. “Did Eddie pull another prank on the Dylan Thomas statue again?”

You chuckled, thinking about the photo that your brother had sent you the week before—he had put a wig, makeup, and a shaving-cream beard on the statue of your grandfather’s late friend. “No, no. The statue garden has gone untouched this week.”

She shook her head, a grin on her face. “I still can’t believe you guys have a statue garden,” she said. But of course her family does. Because why wouldn’t they?

“Well, my dad’s always been big into statues. Like, when he was younger, he--” You cut yourself off. “That’s not important. Anyway, my mom invited us to spend Christmas at the house.” Tara’s eyes lit up, a type of joy that she didn’t know existed rushing through her. Us? she thought. I’ve been invited to family Christmas? “Do you want to go--”

“Yes!” she exclaimed immediately, nodding her head fervently. “Please, yes.” Shit, I’ll need to buy presents. What the hell do you get for kids who could buy anything they’ve ever wanted?

You giggled at her enthusiasm and tilted your head. “Are you sure you and Sam aren’t going back to California for the holidays?” you asked.

Back to California? Back to…Woodsboro? She furrowed her eyebrows, biting her bottom lip. “Why would we go to Cali?”

You squirmed a little where you stood. What’s she so nervous about? she wondered. “I just thought you might want to see your mom?” Your voice pitched on the last word, and Tara tensed, her arms falling to her sides. You frowned and reached out, but she pulled back, swallowing.

“No, there’s--we’re not--no,” she stammered out, her voice short. She shook her head. “I’ll be here.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

Tara wanted the conversation to be over, but your lips were pursed like you still had something you wanted to say. “What?” she asked.

You shook your head. “Nothing!”

She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes at you. “No, you look like you have something to say. What?”

“I just…you’ve never spoken about her. Maybe we could--”

That’s because there’s nothing to say.” She’s good for nothing, she thought. “I don’t like to talk about her.” I’d rather read Shakespeare, which is really saying something.

“But--”

“No.” Her voice was stern, clear-cut, and she watched as you deflated a little, your eyes flitting around the room. She sighed, running a hand down her face. “I’m not doing this right now, okay? I’m not talking about her.”

“Tar…” The nickname came out as a coo, soft and careful and meant to be comforting, but it ignited a strange irritation beneath Tara’s skin, and something in her snapped.

“Listen, we can’t all have a perfect-fucking-family, okay?” she shouted, and you flinched, taking a step back, your eyes widening at her sudden outburst. “Just because you have parents who are there and who care doesn’t mean everyone does! I mean, Jesus, my mom didn’t even come to see me last year after--” After Amber stabbed me half-to-death, she finished in her head.

The air was tense, quiet. You stood in front of her, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, and Tara cursed herself when she noticed that your hands were trembling slightly.

“Baby…” She reached out for you, but her fingers met open air as you shook your head and crossed the room to grab your things from her bed.

“It’s fine. I--I shouldn’t have pushed,” you rushed out, your voice shaking. You threw your notebook and laptop into your backpack hastily before hurrying to the door. Tara stood, desperate to do something to stop you from leaving, but she didn’t get the chance as you said, “I’m sorry.” Of course she’d apologize when I snapped at her. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

The door shutting behind you pulled all the air from Tara’s lungs, and she fell back into her chair, holding her face in her hands.

“God fucking damnit,” she groaned. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

* * *

Hours later--during which Tara had sat in her bed and moped--there was a knock on her bedroom door. For a brief second, she thought it was you. But there would be no reason for her to come back after I got mad at her, she reminded herself, and any hope she had disappeared when Sam walked into the room, a frown on her face.

“I thought Y/N was staying for dinner so you two could study through it,” Sam said, bringing Tara’s attention right back to the fact that you had left. She stepped into the room, her arms crossed over her chest, and asked “What happened?” You’re all”--she gestured at Tara--“sad.”

Tara huffed, glaring at her sister. “Nothing,” she grumbled.

Sam scoffed. “Oh, please. You and Y/N have been attached at the hip since the start of finals.” She shook her head. “Scratch that--since you two began dating. So, what happened, Tara?”

Stupid Sam, being a good older sister. Tara sighed and relented. “She asked about mom.”

“Oh.” Sam frowned. “And what did you say?”

“I--” Was a bad girlfriend and got mad at her for no reason, Tara thought, shame seeping into her veins. “I snapped at her. I didn’t mean to. It’s just…mom’s a tough topic, and it’s even harder because Y/N’s family-life is so perfect.” She clenched her jaw and glanced away, ignoring the spark of jealous lighting in her chest. “She’s got two parents who are there, and they have money, and she’s just…” Perfect.

Sam tilted her head, walking over and sitting beside Tara. “You know, it wasn’t easy for me to tell Danny about mom, either. He’s in the same boat as Y/N--well, not the super rich family part, but his parents are together and there.” She shrugged. “It’s hard not to envy that, but she’s your girlfriend, so you’ll need to talk to her about mom at some point. She deserves to know.”

Tara nodded, hanging her head. “I know. I feel horrible for getting upset with her.” She gestured lamely at her phone. “I tried texting and calling her, but…” She pointed across the room, where your phone still sat on her desk. “Obviously that didn’t work.”

Sam hummed. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Tara. Maybe she just needed a minute.” She rested her hand on Tara’s shoulder. “Plus, she’ll need her phone.”

“What if she comes back and breaks up with me?” Tara asked, looking up at Sam with wide eyes. What if she never speaks to me again? she thought. What if this is it? What if--

“Every couple has arguments, Tara.” Sam smiled softly at her. “She’s not going to break up with you over this. That girl’s head over heels for you, even more than you are for her. It’s gonna be okay, okay?”

Tara bit the inside of her cheek. “Yeah, okay,” she said, not missing the sorrow in her own voice. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Sam stood, her hands on her hips and her head tilted. “Now, should we get Chinese food or pizza?”

* * *

Sam was right: you did just need a minute.

It was as Tara was getting ready for bed that she heard a knock on the front door. Sam’ll deal with it, she decided as she climbed beneath her sheets, ready to lay in the darkness and wallow for a while. Just as she was reaching over to turn off her bedside lamp, a certain name caught her attention.

“Oh, hi, Y/N!” Sam said loudly from the living room, and Tara knew she had raised her voice so that she would know who was at the door. She sat up immediately. Y/N is here? What? There was some mumbling before Sam’s voice came again. “Yeah, she’s in her room. Go ahead.”

Moments later, there were soft knocks against her bedroom door, and Tara scrambled out of her bed, rushing across the room to open the door for you. There you stood, your lips pulled in a downturned smile and your eyes wide with worry.

“Hey, pretty girl,” you muttered. You were still wearing the same clothes from the day, and your backpack was still hanging off your shoulders. Did she not go home? she wondered, furrowing her eyebrows. You pulled your arm out from behind you, revealing a small bouquet of flowers. “Got you these.”

Tara blinked. She bought me flowers?!  “I--Thanks?” She took them from your outstretched hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I said I’d see you later, didn’t I?” you tried to joke, but your voice was strained, like you were trying to be careful, and Tara felt guilt prick at her knowing that she was the cause. “Could I come in?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. Always,” she rushed out, moving to her bed to sit. She placed the flowers on her bedside table and watched as you sat in front of her, fingers playing with her blanket. “So, what’s up?” ‘What’s up?’ Really? That’s the best I can do?

You sighed, a shaky breath falling from your lips. “I want to apologize,” you said. “I didn’t mean to push you into talking about your mom earlier. I know she’s a touchy subject.”

Tara frowned. “Why are you apologizing? I’m sorry for shouting at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You shook your head, glancing up and finally making eye-contact with her. “No, it’s okay. You didn’t want to talk about her. And, that’s okay.” You shrugged and offered her a comforting smile. “You don’t have to tell me about her…ever, if you don’t want to.”

“I should, though. I mean, we should talk about her.”

“Tara, you really don’t have to--”

“No, I--I want to.” Want’s a strong word, she thought. But I should.

“Okay,” you said, nodding and giving her your full attention. “You have the floor.”

She sighed heavily. “Well, my dad left when I was 8. My mom started working more so that she could afford Sam and I, but it turned more into an obsession for her, I think. Next thing I knew, she was never there. Sam left home when I was 13, and it was just me.” She shrugged, glancing down and fiddling with her fingers. “Then, Sam came back after I was attacked, and my mom wouldn’t talk to her, so we made the choice to cut her off. I haven’t spoken to her since we moved.”

Tara clicked her tongue, looking back up at you. To her surprise, your face wasn’t full of the pity she was used to seeing after telling people about her past; you were watching her carefully, looking close to tears.

“So, that’s that,” she said awkwardly.

You inhaled sharply, blinking your glassy eyes away. “You didn’t deserve any of that, Tar, and I’m sorry that you had to deal with it.” You reached out, your hand cupping her cheek, and she leaned into your touch. “I’m so happy that you’ve found your family.”

Her heart fluttered at your words, her mind flashing to Sam and Mindy and Chad. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I am, too. I really love those guys.” And I’ve found you, too, she thought. You make it all complete.

You grinned, and she practically melted into her mattress. “Good. They’re good--all of them.”

She giggled. “C’mere.” She wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pulled you to lay down with her, your face nuzzled into her neck. She laughed at the feeling of your nose against her skin, and said, “I love you. Like, a lot.”

Your arms wrapped around her waist, and you squeezed lightly. “I love you, like, a lot, too.” You sighed into her. “And I’m sorry for leaving like that earlier. I just…I don’t do well with raised voices.”

Huh? Suddenly, she was on high alert. Why not? What happened? “Any particular reason?”

You twisted in her hold so that you could lay beside her, your gaze trained on the ceiling. She scooted down so that her head was level with yours and looked at you, tracing your side profile with her eyes. So pretty, she thought. Wait, stay on topic, Tara.

You clenched your jaw. “We’ve never talked about it, but, um, my dad…” You closed your eyes. “When I was younger, my dad had a big drinking problem.” Her eyebrows furrowed. Her dad? That man? Really? “He was never physical,” you said, shaking your head lightly. “But he had a temper when he was drunk, and everything I did was always wrong.”

“Oh, Y/N,” she sighed, intertwining her fingers with yours. Your grip was tight, like she would float away if you didn’t hold on.

“He’d yell a lot, at me, at my mom.” Oh, baby. Your thumb rubbed over the skin of her hand. “But he’s good now. He got better after the boys were born--got sober. He hasn’t had a drink since.” You turned your head, looking back at her.

“He’s not, like, obsessed with apples, or anything,” you said. What does that have to do with the conversation? she wondered. “But, he eats them a lot when we have parties. That was his thing--eat an apple when he wanted a drink. It stuck, so we keep the fridge stocked, and any time someone sees him even look in the direction of alcohol, we get him an apple.” You smiled. “He eats them begrudgingly, but he’ll never have an apple out of his own volition now.”

Tara chuckled softly. “I’m happy he’s better now, but I’m sorry you dealt with that. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

You shrugged, leaning closer so that your forehead rested against her cheek. “It’s okay now. I’m alright,” you promised. “Just…never buy that man an apple, alright?” you joked, easing the tension in the air.

“Deal,” she agreed, nudging your head up. She leaned in, kissed you, and said, “I guess no family’s perfect after all, huh?” when she pulled away.

“I guess not.” You grinned, leaning up on your elbow to hover over her. “But, maybe ours could be the first.”

Her heart practically stopped, and she couldn’t help the smile that took over her face. Ours? she thought. She felt like she wanted to burst from the amount of joy that came with that thought. Yeah. Ours.

“Okay.” She pushed herself up and kissed you again. “Ours will be the first.”

the shakespeare exhibit - part 9

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which it's time to celebrate the holidays

warnings: implied smut

word count: 2900+

author's note: long awaited but finally here

previous part | next part

"Seriously?" Tara asked as she stepped into the living room, a mug of hot chocolate in each hand. Her eyes were trained on the television, which was displaying the Elf title screen in all its fluorescent-glory. "We watch this every Christmas Eve!"

"Exactly!" Chad said, twisting around to grab one of the mugs from her hand. His face was alight with joy, his eyes wide and sparkling. "It's a tradition now!"

Tara glanced at Mindy, who shrugged. "Don't look at me. I wanted to watch Krampus," the girl said.

Chad huffed. "And I told you I'm done with horror movies. We already lived through one." He took a sip from his drink, and his eyebrows raised the moment the hot chocolate touched his tongue. "Tara! This is actually pretty good."

Tara frowned. "'Actually'?"

The boy glanced away sheepishly. "Well, you know, you have the tendency to--"

"Burn things," Sam deadpanned from behind as she exited the kitchen, mugs in her own hands. She handed one to Mindy, who immediately started gulping it down, and then turned to Tara. "The last three times you tried to make anything, our fire alarm went off."

Well maybe we shouldn't have such a sensitive alarm, Tara thought, furrowing her eyebrows. "Whatever," she scoffed, rounding the couch to sit between the twins. She pulled the blanket off Chad and covered herself, ignoring his whines. "Let's just watch Elf."

Mindy reached for the remote, and just as she was about to hit play, there was a knock on the front door. Every tensed slightly--an involuntary reaction none of them seemed to be able to shake--and Sam stood, edging toward the door slowly. She looked out through the peephole, and Tara watched as she sighed with relief, her shoulders relaxing. She undid the locks, opened the door, and Danny popped his head into the living room.

"Am I late?" the man asked as he shuffled inside.

"Perfect timing, man," Chad answered, holding his hand out. Danny dapped him up quickly before settling on the armchair, leaving room for Sam to squeeze beside him. "Okay," Chad started, lifting his legs to put his feet on the coffee table, "Elf time."

Almost as soon as Mindy pressed the play button, there was a thud against the front door. Again, everyone sat up a little straighter. Tara swallowed, her eyes trained on the doorknob as it twisted slightly.

This is it, she thought. Ghostface is going to attack us on Christmas Eve, because why the fuck not?

There was another thud, softer this time, and Danny glanced around the room, resolving to open the door. Everyone's attention was on him as he crept up, looked through the peephole, and then chuckled.

"You've got a present outside, Tara," he said, undoing the locks that Sam had redone and opening the door.

A present? she wondered. It's too late for UPS to be here.

There, in the hallway, beneath the flickering yellow light, stood you, your arms weighed down by bags and a small red spot forming on your forehead. You grinned at the group sitting inside.

"Hi!" you greeted, lifting your hands to show off what you had brought. "I have presents!"

Tara scrambled to stand, hastily placing her hot chocolate on the coffee table, and launched herself into you. You stumbled back a few steps before setting the bags on the floor and wrapping your arms around her waist.

"Hey, pretty girl," you muttered into her hair.

She pulled back, staring up at you with a gleaming smile. "What're you doing here? I thought you were stuck in Zoom calls with overseas family members." She had invited you to the Christmas Eve excursions, but you had declined for the aforementioned reason.

You giggled. "I was, but we ended a bit earlier than normal, so I thought I'd come over." You glanced over the top of your head at the others in the living room. "I hope I'm not intruding."

"The more the merrier, buddy!" Chad exclaimed, holding his hand out as Tara twisted around to stand beside you. You simply stared at him for a moment before taking his hand in your own and shaking it.

Tara couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. Stupid, she thought. Chad seemed to be thinking the same thing as he tilted his head yet accepted the handshake.

As you pulled away from Chad, Tara glanced up at you. "Why did you knock so menacingly?" she asked, and then she looked up a little higher at the red mark on your forehead. "Did you use your head?"

You smiled shyly and nodded. "My hands were too full," you admitted. You perked up, whipping around and grabbing the bags you had left by the door. "That reminds me: I have gifts for you guys."

Tara watched you, sighing dreamily. She's so perfect. She'd be such a good mom. She shook her head. No baby thoughts, Tara. Now's not the time.

"This one's for you, Mindy," you said as you handed the girl one of the paper bags. "This is for you, Chad." He greedily accepted the package you held out to him. "Sam, for you." The bag was small and thin, and Tara didn't have to watch to know that it was another bottle of wine. "Uh, Danny, I didn't know you'd be here."

The man shook his head and waved you off. "Don't worry about it."

"Oh!" You reached for your wallet and drew out a few hundred-dollar bills. Tara's eyes widened. Who the hell carries that much cash on them? she thought, before shrugging and thinking, I guess when your parents have as much money as hers do, it doesn't even matter. You held them out to him. "Here! Merry Christmas!"

He simply stared at you, unblinking, for so long that it started to unnerve Tara. Hesitantly, like you would lean down and bite him if he moved too fast, he reached out and took the money from your hands.

"...Thanks," he said. Sam rolled her eyes and leaned toward him, whispering something in his ear. Tara heard the tail-end of the statement: "....family's rich." Danny nodded his head and smiled. "Yeah, thanks. Merry Christmas, kid."

You grinned happily and then turned back to the twins, waiting for them to open their presents. Mindy glanced at Chad, who shrugged and started ripping into the package you had handed him. He pulled out a pristine, red football jersey that had 'Bosa' on the back. Beneath the numbers was a large scribble.

"Holy shit," Chad said, his eyes practically bulging out of his head as he stared at the jersey. "You got this signed by Bosa?! The Bosa?!"

You nodded, giggling. "Yup. Or, well, my dad got him to sign it, but same thing."

Chad leaned back and sighed happily. "Man, you are such a great addition to his family."

Your smile widened at his words, and Tara thought you might start bouncing up and down as she looked at you, a soft smile on her own face. God, I agree with Chad for once, she thought. It's a fucking Christmas miracle.

"Okay," Mindy began, hesitantly opening her own bag. "I don't think you can top that, but let's see what's in here." With careful hands, she pulled out a framed poster, and her jaw dropped so wide that Tara briefly thought it had broken. "No fucking way! Absolutely no fucking way!" She spun it around so that everyone else could see, and even Tara was shocked to see a Stab poster signed by all of the original cast members.

"It was a little difficult tracking everyone down, but we got there eventually," you said, beaming. "I hope you like it."

"Like it? Y/N, this is the best gift I've ever gotten in my entire life!" Mindy practically shouted. Her face fell quickly. "No one tell Anika that. I promised her that the necklace she bought was the best thing ever."

A chorus of laughter erupted throughout the room, and while everyone was distracted, you turned to Tara. "I have something for you," you said, tilting your head in the direction of her bedroom. "Can we...?"

She caught on quickly, nodding fervently, and grabbed your hand, shouting out a, "Watch the movie without me!" to which Sam responded, "Door open, Tara!" Yeah, right, she thought.

Tara pulled you inside and, much to the muttering complaints of her sister, shut the door behind you. She led you to her bed, where you sat on the edge of it and pulled something from your pocket.

"It's just something small," you started, glancing away shyly, "because your real gift is coming tomorrow, but I just...I wanted to give it to you today." She smiled at your nerves, thinking, She's just too cute. Too fucking cute.

She sat beside you. "Okay," she said. "But, just so you know, I only got you one gift."

You giggled and held the gift out. It was a small envelope, tiny enough to have fit in the pocket of your sweatpants, with your scrawl on the front. Tara furrowed her eyebrows as she looked at it and then took it from your hand. With slow and steady fingers, she opened the envelope, shivers running up her back as she realized what it was.

"It's your museum ticket," you said, watching her carefully, "from the day we met. Or, well, it's a copy of your ticket, since, you know, you have--or, had--the original." You shrugged and bit your lip. "I thought it would be a cute memento, but if it's dumb, you can just--"

She leaned in and shut you up with a soft kiss, trying to put all of the love she felt for you into it. When she pulled away, you were a blushing mess, and your words had died on your tongue.

"How did you get this?" she asked, looking back at the ticket.

You scratched at the back of your neck. "After I realized this was something"--you gestured between the two of you--"I scoured through the computer one day after work looking for your last name. There aren't very many Carpenters, so it wasn't too difficult."

That does it. Official. She's the very best thing that's ever happened to me.

"I love you, you know that?" Tara murmured softly.

You grinned. "Yeah, I do." You kissed her. "And I love you, too."

She grinned at you. "Since my door's shut, let me give you part of your Christmas gift," she said, and you blushed at the implication. She kissed you again and pushed you onto your back, easily hovering over you. "Merry Christmas, baby."

* * *

The sun shining in Tara's eyes woke her up. She turned over groggily, pressing her head into your neck, and you grumbled a little, shifting as you were woken up by her movements. Before even saying a word, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Morning, pretty," you said, your voice low and scratchy and filled with sleep. Tara melted at the sound, just like she did every time the two of you had a sleepover.

"Merry Christmas, baby," she offered, and your eyes shot open.

"Holy fuck." You sat up quickly, leaving Tara scrambling and confused as you reached for your phone. "Fuck, Tara!" You slipped out of her bed and immediately started getting dressed, stumbling around her room.

She sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist. "What?"

"We're gonna be late!" You pulled your shirt over your head. "Shit, the boys are gonna be so mad that they have to wait to open their presents."

Tara fell onto her back, groaning. This is gonna be a long day, she thought.

* * *

You bursted through the front door of your house, gifts nearly falling from your arms, and were immediately greeted by your brothers.

"Merry Christmas!" you shouted, and the boys swerved around you and headed straight for Tara.

"Tara! Tara!" Eddie cheered. "What'd you get me?"

"Please tell me you didn't get him any cologne. He's been spraying that stuff like mad recently," Nate said, elbowing his brother.

How did I forget how...energetic...they are? Tara wondered. "I'm not telling you," she said to Eddie, and then turned to Nate and said, "But no, it's not cologne."

Eddie frowned. "Darn."

"Oh, thank goodness!" Nate cheered. "Come. Mom and Dad are waiting by the tree. We've been up for hours waiting for you two."

"Hours and hours and hours," Eddie added, grabbing Tara's wrist and tugging her toward the family room.

Hours and hours and hours, she mocked in her head, and then she felt a little bad for mocking a child.

"Why've you guys been up for so long?" you asked as you followed close behind, the gifts blocking your sight slightly. Tara had offered to take some from you, but you had refused.

"Lia woke up early," Nate started.

"So we all woke up early," Eddie finished.

"Plus, grandpa was making pancakes," Nate said.

"And you know how his pancakes are," Eddie added.

When the four of you finally reached the living room, your parents stood.

"The prodigal daughter returns!" your father exclaimed, just as he had when he saw you at Lia's birthday party.

You set the presents down and rushed forward, pulling both of them into a hug. "Hi, guys!" You pulled back and they stepped up, taking Tara into their arms one by one. Even your grandmother offered Tara a hug. "So, presents?"

"Yes!" Nate shouted.

"Finally!" Eddie cheered.

Needless to say, the process of opening presents was chaotic—so much so that, just for a split second, Tara regretted saying yes to coming. You and the adults were calm, carefully unwrapping your presents and ooh-ing and ahh-ing at each one. The boys, on the other hand, left a trail of little pieces of wrapping paper and gift bags and bows, and Lia ended up spitting up everywhere at one point.

This is it, Tara thought at one point as she watched your family. This is every Christmas for the rest of my life. And when the boys opened their presents from her--an edition of an Emily Dickinson book for Nate and a game of COD for Eddie--and basically tackled her as their thank-you's, she thought, Maybe it's not so bad. Yeah, she decided as they cheered and yelled and started bursting out into random Christmas songs, this isn't so bad.

Finally, after everything had finally finished, and there were just two more presents left to give, the rest of the family excused themselves to make lunch in the kitchen. It was you and Tara sitting by the tree alone, neither of you having exchanged your own gifts yet.

"Do you want to go first?" you asked, shifting where you sat, your eyes flickering around.

She's nervous, Tara realized quickly. Awe, she's nervous!

To try to quell your worries, she nodded. "Sure." She grabbed her gift for you, which was neatly wrapped with a little bow on top. Unfortunately for her, she had Chad to thank for the wrapping, but she'd never admit it as you complimented her on how crisp the paper was.

With careful hands, you unwrapped your present, revealing a small ring box. You furrowed your eyebrows as you opened it, and Tara gulped as she watched your eyes widen and your jaw drop.

"Oh my god," you muttered. "Oh. My. God." You pulled the ring from its box. "It's a signet ring! It's Shakspeare's signet ring! I've been looking for one of these for forever!" You slipped it onto your pinky, and Tara sighed with relief when it fit. You brought your hand closer to your face, inspecting the ring. "It even has the heart loop!"

"So, you like it?" Tara asked.

You looked up, a huge grin pulling at your lips and your eyes sparkling with pure joy. "I don't even have the words to describe how much I love it, Tar. Thank you."

She smiled. "Merry Christmas."

You glanced back down at the ring. "Where did you find this?" you asked.

Oh, shit. Should I be honest? God, I should. Damn it. "Uh, I drove up here a few days ago and your brothers and I went shopping. Nate saw it in that antique shop downtown."

You chuckled. "You asked my brothers to help you?" Your voice was light, teasing, and Tara blushed up to her ears.

"...Yes."

You cooed, reaching out to run your thumb along her cheek. 'That's adorable, baby."

"Shut up," she mumbled. "Your turn."

"Okay. Right. My turn." You picked up the little box left beneath the tree and handed it to Tara, breathing out shakily as you did. "I hope you like it."

She was a lot less gentle than you were, eager to know what you had gifted her. She tore through the wrapping paper and tilted her head as a tiny cardboard box revealed itself. When she opened it, she found a gold necklace inside, an emerald pendant dangling from its chain.

"This is beautiful," she said, looking up at you. "Like, seriously beautiful. I don't even know what to say." She lifted it from the box carefully, letting the pendant dangle in the air.

"It was my great grandmother's," you rushed out, and Tara's eyes shot toward you. "It's passed down to each first born in the family on my mom's side, and we're meant to give it to...to the person we want to spend forever with."

Forever. Tara grinned. I like the sound of that.

"I know it's still early in our relationship," you continued, glancing away, "but I'm confident in this." You looked at her, a soft smile playing on your lips. "I'm confident in you."

She shot forward, wrapping her arms around your neck and engulfing you in the tightest hug she could manage. "I'm confident in this, too," she admitted. She pulled back, holding the necklace out to you. "Help me put it on?"

With ease you clasped it around her neck, and when she turned back around, she swore your eyes were sparkling.

"It looks perfect," you said breathlessly. "It's perfect."

You're perfect, she thought. This is perfect. Everything's perfect.

"Hey," she said, calling your attention. "I love you."

You smiled. "I love you, too, Tara. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Y/N."

movie night vii

Summary: Ghostface got you, and Tara isn't going to let him go without a fight. No one hurts someone she loves. It's time to end this.

Word Count: 11.4k Warnings: Swearing, Scream typical violence, wound descriptions, murder, grief, mention of Scream V events Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (pt.i) (pt.ii) (pt.iii) (pt.iv) (pt.v) (pt.vi) (pt.vii)

You weren’t answering your phone.

Tara had been calling you nonstop from the hospital to Gale’s apartment, and you weren’t answering.

“It’s probably fine,” Chad said as he struggled to catch up.

As much as she wanted to believe him, he was wrong. He was so very wrong and Tara couldn’t even string her thoughts into a coherent sentence for long enough to tell him why. Why her heart had tried to jump out of her throat when she saw the text from you that simply said “gf here.” She couldn’t explain the icy fear that froze in her veins.

Why couldn’t she run faster?

Tara’s heart dropped to her stomach the moment she saw those red and blue flashing lights. No no no. She was vaguely aware of someone calling her name, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn around or answer. Her eyes were glued to Gale. Only Gale. Why was she alone? Where were you?

Gale’s tears and hyperventilating did nothing to ease the lump in her throat as she got closer.

Her eyes surveyed the entire scene before her. There was no ambulance sitting in the street, waiting to take an injured person to the hospital. An injured you. Police were just milling around, twiddling their thumbs until someone told them what to do. The only one who was attempting to help was Detective Bailey, but even he wasn’t doing much.

“Where are they?” Tara asked, finally turning to look at Gale.

She blinked a few times and let out a shaky inhale and exhale.

“Gale,” Tara said again, more forceful, “where are they?”

Her inability to focus or meet Tara’s eyes forced the air out of her lungs. Why couldn’t she look at her? What had happened to you that she didn’t want to admit? That she couldn’t admit? Gale needed to say something and she needed to say something now before Tara lost her mind.

“Gale.”

Everyone turned to face the voice. Alfie was doing an awkward jog over to where they were all standing. Tara studied his face, looking for any indication of what had happened to you. If someone didn’t fill her in soon she was going to combust. Where were you?

“Alfie what-”

“-They’re headed to the hospital,” Alfie interrupted her with his hand held up in a pitiful attempt to keep her calm.

You were headed to the hospital? That meant you were alive, right? Surely they wouldn’t have bothered taking you if you weren’t alive, that wouldn’t make any sense. Oh god, Tara’s mind was running rampant. How bad had it been? Would you be able to recover quickly? What if it was worse than they thought and they couldn’t save you?

“How bad is it?” Sam asked.

Everyone slowly turned to face Gale.

“It’s-” she swallowed harshly, “-it’s bad.”

It was only then that Tara noticed the blood soaking Gale’s clothes. Her shirt, her pants, her hands. Oh god, was it yours? It had to be, Gale seemed untouched. Tara’s hands shook even as she did her best to clench them into fists. That wasn’t enough to stop the unbearable ache of the muscles in her forearms.

He had made you bleed.

She was going to kill him.

“Sam.” Danny was next to appear, instantly going to Sam’s side and checking her over. “Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?” Chad asked. Tara had almost forgotten he had come along.

“I’m Y/N’s emergency contact,” he said. “Came as soon as I got the call, but are you okay?”

“We’re fine,” Sam said quickly, “we were at the hospital.”

His hands were all over Sam, and Tara wanted nothing more than for him to leave. She didn’t care about Sam’s little boy toy, and he certainly wasn’t doing them any favours. He needed to leave so they could focus on the real issue at hand. He was nothing more than a liability at that point.

“Good,” your Pop said as he approached; he seemed to be far more relaxed about the situation. At least outwardly. “You’re all here.”

“Don, I didn’t-”

“-It’s okay,” he interrupted Gale quickly, “I know.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before looking at Tara. “You all need to follow Tony to the safe house.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I kill that motherfucker,” she said.

“You’re going to a safe house,” he insisted. Actually, it sounded more like an order, just spoken with a more gentle tone. “No one else is getting hurt, you understand?”

No. No she didn’t understand. How could he be so calm when you were probably dying in the back of an ambulance? You were his child, how could he be so reserved? Surely he had a plan, he had to. She certainly did. She was going to find that bastard and kill him. Nothing drawn out, no, quick and efficient and gruesome.

“Aren’t you going after him?” Tara asked. Your Pop just gave her a sad look. “He tried to kill Y/N.”

“I know what he tried to do,” he said quickly. “I’m making sure it doesn’t happen to any of you.”

“But what about-”

“-you might not understand this just yet, little lady,” your Pop said, quickly shutting Tara up, “but Vitales do not charge in without a plan.”

“So you have a plan?” Tara asked eagerly. Someone’s hand fell onto her shoulder and squeezed gently. Judging by the size, it was Chad.

“I do,” Pop said with a simple nod. He let his finished cigarette fall from his lips before pulling out another one and lifting his lighter. “That plan involves you going to the safe house and waiting.”

Tara groaned and turned away. How could he expect her to just walk away? To hide away while you were dying and the one who tried to kill you was still running free? No, no that wasn’t going to happen. There was no way in hell she was just going to stay in someone else’s safe house. Carpenters didn’t hide.

“Do you understand me, Tara?” Pop asked, his brow raised and that cigarette hanging haphazardly from his lips.

“Yes sir,” she said even as her mind continued to run rampant.

Pop stepped forward and lightly placed a big, callused hand on her cheek. “I promise you, we’ll take care of it.”

His kindness was almost unsettling. How on earth did your family manage to be so kind when she could assume what they did for a living? She wasn’t stupid, she knew you weren’t accountants. It was a horrible lie, and none too convincing either. So how could your father - and your family - be so kind and gentle? 

And how could he tell her that she couldn’t go after Ghostface? If anything, she was the professional Ghostface killer. She and Sam were the ones who had killed Richie and Amber. When had your family ever dealt with Ghostface? Sure, you had held your own twice, but clearly the third time was not the charm. They had some nerve to keep her hidden while they took their sweet time.

“Go with Tony,” Pop said, giving the most reassuring pat to Tara’s cheek. “We’ll take it from here.”

With that, Pop leaned forward and gave Gale a kiss on the cheek before guiding her away. She was walking on shaky legs, and if his arm hadn’t been around her waist Tara had no doubt she would have collapsed. What had happened to you that had caused so much mental anguish to her? Tara assumed it was close to how she had been when she discovered Dewey had been killed.

“I want to see Y/N,” Tara said, turning around to finally look at everyone. “I’m not going anywhere until I see them.”

“I know which hospital they’re at,” Danny said quickly.

“I can have Tony meet us there,” Alfie chimed in. “We can go to the safe house when we know they’re okay.”

“Let’s go,” Sam said before Tara had a chance to answer. “It’s too dark to stay outside.”

Everyone mumbled their agreements before starting the walk. Thankfully the hospital wasn’t too many blocks away. Danny had his arm around Sam’s waist, seemingly holding her up, and whispering in her ear nonstop. It would have been cute in any other situation. Not that Tara was sold on him yet, but Sam seemed comfortable and that was the important part.

But she was too busy plotting her revenge to focus on how cute her older sister was being. Tara needed to see you, that was before anything else and it wasn't up for debate. After she was sure you would pull through? Oh it was on, Ghostface had better start praying that she didn't find them. If given half the chance, she would make him regret every moment of his life that led up to the moment he had attacked you.

"They'll be okay," Chad said, pulling Tara out of her bloody and violent imagination. "They're too stubborn to die."

"I thought you hated them," Tara mumbled as she shoved her hands into her pockets. "Why would you care if they were okay?"

"I don't hate them," Chad said quickly, "I just didn't trust them."

"And now?" She asked.

"I mean," he exhaled softly, "they saved Anika and Mindy." He stepped sideways to avoid running into a stranger that refused to move. "And they kept Gale safe."

Yeah you did. You did all of that even though you knew Sam and Chad weren’t your biggest fans. There was nothing any of them could say or do to change the fact that you had put yourself in danger for them not once, not twice, but three times. On your date at her apartment, in your apartment, and just now in Gale’s apartment.

Maybe you just shouldn’t be trusted in apartments, that always seemed to be the location where you got most hurt.

The hospital was cold; it wasn’t the same as when she had initially been there to visit Anika. There had been tension, of course, but everyone had been happy and laughing and having a good time. A feeling of comfort and safety surrounded them and almost made them feel like they could recover from anything.

This was different. Each sound and smell assaulted Tara's senses until her hands started to shake and her palms grew sweaty. Did they have you in a room yet, waiting anxiously for someone you knew to appear? Or were you still unconscious, unaware of anything that had transpired since the attack? Truthfully, Tara didn’t think she liked either answer.

“The hell are you all doin’ here?”

Your sister Mercy looked furious as she practically stormed over to where everyone was standing. Not that Tara could blame her, the entire situation probably had her on edge. And if she was one of the staff having to take care of you? Oh, there would be no need for explanation.

“Listen-”

“-I’m not listenin’ to shit,” she interrupted Alfie. “Pop said you were going to the safe house.”

“Tara wanted to see Y/N,” Sam said quickly. “And then we were heading over.”

“Well you can’t,” Mercy said with a rushed exhale and a shake of her head. The momentary silence settled in Tara’s bones. “They’re still in surgery.”

“Still?” Tara blurted out.

“They only got here about 15 minutes ago, T,” Mercy said, “of course they’re still in there.”

“How bad is it?” Chad asked. His hand fell to Tara’s shoulder again. She knew he was trying his best to comfort her, but it really wasn’t working. If anything, she wanted him to get away; she didn’t want anyone touching her.

Mercy sighed before shifting her weight to her other hip. “Lacerations to the face, and bullet fragments to the shoulder.”

The hospital started to tilt under Tara’s feet while they all continued talking, but she couldn’t hear them. It was like they were speaking underwater. You had been shot? They had gotten your face? How bad was it? Her mouth went dry at the thoughts that ran rampant in her mind.

“Tara.” A familiar hand cupped her jaw. Sam. “You okay?”

No. No she wasn’t okay. How could she be? It was hard enough to deal with Ghostface on his own. It brought back memory after memory of Amber. All those dates, all those spilled secrets, shared kisses. And she had turned out to be nothing more than a fake, a murderer, someone who would’ve traded Tara in for her 5 minutes of fame.

Add onto that the fact that you were laying on some cold operating table, all alone? Because of her?

“Tara?”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly. Sam’s thumb brushed gently across her cheekbone before she pulled away. “Is there anywhere we can sit and wait?”

“I’ll take you somewhere quiet,” Mercy said softly. Still shocking, coming from someone of your family.

The little room wasn’t too far away from where they had come into the hospital. It seemed private, at least compared to the usual waiting room that was wide open for the rest of the hospital to see. At least there was a door in this one, and a small coffee pot and a basket of snacks over on a table in the corner. Simple, but Tara could appreciate it. It was the most homey space in the unsettling environment.

“I’ll come get you when I know more,” Mercy said before leaving, closing the door with a gentleness that made Tara’s skin crawl.

It felt like hours before Tony came in, slipping through the door like a shadow, clinging to the walls like he wasn’t supposed to be there. He sat down dutifully beside Tara, not too close to encroach on her space but still far too close for comfort. She knew he was only there to make sure she actually went back to the safe house afterwards.

Your family was a bunch of bastards.

“Tara?”

Her eyes flew open, the world seeming hazy before she could blink the sleep away. She didn’t know what time it was, or how long she had been there, but she had been waiting for something. You. She had been waiting for you. Tara pushed herself up from the chair, standing on shaky legs for only a moment before walking mindlessly to the door where Mercy was waiting.

“How are they?” Tara asked before Mercy could even finish shutting the door behind them.

“Restin’,” she said with a subconscious nod.

“But alive?”

“Alive,” she reiterated with a small smile. “But there’s a lot of rehab in their future.”

“Better than the alternative,” Tara sighed, chewing her bottom lip in an attempt to feel something other than immense guilt.

It wasn’t working.

“Tara.” She tried not to flinch when Mercy’s hand landed on her shoulder. “Y/N would want you to be in the safe house.”

“They nearly got killed because of me,” Tara said quietly. “I can’t just let that go.”

“They nearly got killed because of that rat bastard,” Mercy said with a surprising amount of calm in her voice. “Not because of you.”

“But-”

“-do you think they would want you gettin’ yourself killed for this?” She asked. Tara froze. “Because they wouldn’t.”

“I can’t sit by and do nothing,” Tara said.

“You’re not,” Mercy shrugged. “You’re sittin’ safe.” She smiled and tilted her head slightly. “Isn’t that the best kind of revenge? Sittin’ nice and comfy while they get hunted down like the rat they are?”

Well. When she put it that way, maybe it didn’t sound quite so bad. And Tara wouldn’t lie, she was tired. She wanted to feel safe for once, not looking over her shoulder every second of the day because there might be someone following her. It was a miserable existence and she didn’t know how much longer she could do it.

“Okay,” Tara mumbled to herself. When Mercy didn’t answer, she looked up and spoke a bit louder, “Okay.”

“Atta girl,” Mercy said with a toothy grin that was almost a perfect duplicate of yours. “Let’s get you guys somewhere safe.”

Everyone seemed to already have some sort of idea of what was going on when Tara and Mercy got back into the waiting room. Sam was quick to rush over to Tara’s side, checking her over even though they both knew Mercy wouldn’t dare lay a hand on her. It was a habit. It was something Tara was getting tired of being a habit.

“Who all is comin’ with me?” Tony asked.

“I’ll go back to Mindy’s and Anika’s room,” Chad said. “It’s plenty safe up there.”

“You should stay,” Sam told Danny.

“Sam-”

“-Y/N would like a familiar face when they wake up,” she continued. “And you’re not Woodsboro.”

“Neither are they,” Danny said instantly, gesturing with his head to where all of your siblings were huddled up.

Tara and Sam turned their heads slowly to look at them. They were all talking with each other, worry etched onto each of their faces. She knew exactly how they felt; she had felt the same just knowing Sam was in danger back in Woodsboro. But to know that you had actually been hospitalised for it? Was it how Sam had felt when she was attacked last year?

“They’ve been through enough,” Sam said before turning back to face Danny.

“And I haven’t?” Danny asked.

“Never trust the love interest,” she said with a shrug.

Tara could see how much it hurt Sam to say such a thing. But it was the smart move; after all, both of their previous love interests had turned into Ghostface. They didn’t exactly have the best track record. And with you being unconscious and hospitalised, you were out for the count. That just left Danny.

“Sorry, pretty boy,” Tara chimed in. She desperately wanted to take the heat off of Sam, at least as much as she could. “Better luck next time.”

“Tara,” Sam whispered, but didn’t really do anything to actually silence her. She looked back at Danny. “I’ll see you when this is over.”

“Okay,” he said with a soft sigh. “Okay, then I’ll see you soon.”

Tara turned her head when he leaned closer to Sam. She didn’t want to see it, but she could hear them kiss. Sure, she loved Sam, but she didn’t need to hear what all went on with her boy toy. Although she supposed Sam did have to see you half-naked in her living room a few nights ago, so maybe this was the least of her worries.

When Danny walked past her, patting her forcefully on the shoulder, she finally looked back at Sam. There was a resignation on her face that Tara hated to see, even though she would bet she mirrored the look. They were both tired. They were both just far too tired. It was time for a much needed vacation. Maybe somewhere warm.

“You two ready?” Tony asked, finally coming over after confirming he wouldn’t be interrupting something.

“Let’s go,” Sam said with a definitive nod.

“We’ll call when Y/N wakes up,” Alfie said when they passed by, but no one else had anything else to add.

It was practically a silent trip to wherever the safe house was. Almost as soon as Tony led them out of the hospital, he guided them into what looked like an abandoned alley before ushering them into a hidden nook that led to a tunnel. Tara hadn’t explored much of New York, but she knew it wasn’t common knowledge that there were these tunnels all over the city. Right? If it were, everyone would be using them.

There was something utterly fascinating about the instinctual way Tony navigated through the tunnels. If it had been up to Tara, she would’ve gotten lost within 5 minutes tops. But Tony? He seemed to know every turn like the back of his hand. Was that how you had navigated them through when you took them to your family’s house the other day? 

Had it really only been a day or so ago? It was hard to believe, given the amount of things that had happened since then. Even harder to believe that it hadn’t been all that long ago since your date at her apartment. Maybe there was something to be said about the fact she was so worried about you after what was, technically, only one date.

You must have hypnotised her or something. It was the only logical explanation.

“Right through here,” Tony said as he stopped in front of what looked like the most useless, broken down door Tara had ever seen.

“You guys are so sketchy,” she mumbled to herself, but she still didn’t waste any time in opening the door and stepping through.

“I know,” he said softly as he closed the door behind the three of them.

It was a rather nice looking room, Tara wouldn’t hesitate to admit. It was only a singular room, but it was rather spacious for the circumstances. There was a set of bunk beds against the far wall, a small living room with a couch and TV, and even a tiny kitchenette in the corner. A bit nicer than most studio apartments in the above ground, Tara noted.

“The kitchen is stocked,” Tony said as he walked over to the kitchen, opening the fridge and cabinet doors to show the excessive amounts of food. “And thousands of movies downloaded and ready to watch.”

“Legally downloaded?” Sam asked.

“Sure,” he shrugged. “Anyway, you’ve got everything you need to last a few days.”

“How long do you think this will take?” Tara asked. “I don’t like just sitting here.”

“Pop has a plan,” he said. “Shouldn’t take more than two, maybe three days.”

“That’s too long,” Tara said with a shake of her head. “Something else could happen in that time.”

“We’ve never failed a plan yet, Tara,” he said with a kind smile that was almost disturbing. “Don’t plan on starting now.”

“Just let them do it,” Sam whispered even as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“We’re professionals,” Tony said, now his smile turning a little too eager. A little too sadistic.

“And someone is watching Y/N?” Tara asked.

There was no doubt in her mind that you would still be a target. Even though Ghostface had attacked everyone in your apartment, you were the one coming out with nearly all the injuries. She wouldn’t dismiss Anika and Mindy’s injuries, but you seemed to be the one that was targeted. If you were left alone in that hospital, he could get to you in an instant.

Oh god.

“Mercy and Joel are up there,” Tony said quickly. “They won’t even be able to think without someone watching.”

It wasn’t enough. Tara trusted your family, sure, but two people? It wasn’t enough, even if it was your family. You were all more than trained for the situation, she knew it, but it wasn’t enough. Ghostface was smart; too smart. He could probably outsmart your entire family with barely a second thought.

But she supposed it was good enough, so she nodded at Tony once before looking around. She needed a distraction.

“Ma will be down first thing in the morning with some breakfast,” he said before backing away to the singular door that didn’t look quite so broken from this side. “If there’s any news, she’ll let you know.”

“Thank you,” Sam said. Thankfully. Because Tara couldn’t get herself to say anything in return.

Tony bid his goodbye before leaving, and Tara was finally left alone with her thoughts. She knew Sam wanted to talk with her; they were rarely alone anymore and she was far too nosey to just let Tara think without interruption. But she didn’t have the energy anymore. Not for that night.

“Want one of the beds?” Sam asked when Tara still hadn’t moved. “Or the couch?”

“Couch works,” Tara said softly with a subconscious nod of her head.

“Come on,” Sam said just as softly as she reached over to grab Tara’s hand and lead her to the couch.

Tara let herself fall back while Sam moved around the makeshift living room, looking for… something. She didn’t really know and, quite frankly, didn’t really care. After all, what was there to care about? Someone else had gotten hurt, and someone else was taking care of it. All she had to do was sit there, behave, and wait for the situation to resolve itself.

It left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She wondered if you were okay. Maybe you had woken up already and were laying there with your family. They would surely take care of you, right? Of course they would, they were your family and they loved you. She wondered if you would text her, let her know you were okay. Maybe say something ridiculous just to ease the tension.

The TV flickered on and Sam nudged Tara aside with her knee before also falling to the couch. Without even an ounce of hesitation, Tara leaned over until she could lay her head in Sam’s lap. It didn’t take long before she felt Sam’s fingers running through her hair, scratching her scalp as she flipped through movies.

“You care about them,” Sam said slowly. Softly. Gently. 

Yes I do.

“I just don’t like people getting hurt because of me,” Tara answered with a shrug.

“We both know that’s not all it is,” Sam continued. Her fingers never stopped scratching Tara’s head even as she finally decided on a movie.

The Godfather. How appropriate.

“I just…”

Tara let her voice trail off into nothing. She just what? Even she didn’t know how she felt about you. Annoyance was certainly one of those feelings, but there was something more. It was so difficult to tell if it was just a fascination, maybe even an infatuation. But she didn’t trust herself to “like” anyone again. Not after Amber. You were a distraction from the pain and nothing else.

All those repressed feelings started to bubble up at just the mere thought of Amber again. Feelings of guilt because she had no idea of Amber’s double life. No idea that she would have even thought about prolonging the effects of Stab on Woodsboro. Then there was the overwhelming anger. Anger because how dare she try to use her and Sam as pawns in her game? How dare she use Tara and throw her away like she was nothing?

“They’re not Amber,” Sam said, almost as if she could read Tara’s mind. And maybe she could. Or maybe she could see all the reactions on her face that she wasn’t bothering to hide. “I can tell that much.”

“How?” Tara asked. “I knew Amber for ages and still couldn’t tell.”

“I’ve seen how they look at you,” Sam said with a shrug and quickly looked back up at the TV. “And unlike Amber, they let themselves get attacked three separate times for you.”

“Don’t put it that way,” Tara groaned. She brought her hands up to cover her face.. “It makes me feel bad.”

“All I’m saying,” Sam said quickly, “is they’re different.” Tara finished dragging her hands down her face until she could look at Sam. “And if you like them, then I can tolerate them too.”

“How generous of you,” Tara said.

“I still think they’re stupid enough to get you both killed though,” Sam continued. “And not even in a nefarious way.”

“Think they’d get a piano dropped on them?” Tara asked; she didn’t even bother hiding her little smile.

“Like Wile E. Coyote,” Sam instantly replied. “It wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”

“You’re a dick,” Tara said, finally letting a small laugh slip past her lips.

“It’s late,” Sam said after the laughter died down and the movie was barely audible in the background. “Get some sleep, I’ll keep watch.”

“Wake me if anything happens?” Tara asked.

“Of course,” Sam said with a smile that reminded Tara of her mother back when she was still capable of being a mother. A comforting smile that warmed her from the inside out and instilled a certain safety that no one else could really give her.

No one except you.

“Good night, Sam,” Tara mumbled, turning to lay on her side as she kept her head in Sam’s lap.

“Good night, Tara,” Sam said quietly right before Tara finally let the day settle on her and put her to sleep.

It felt like only moments before Tara felt Sam flinch underneath her. She sat up quickly, turning her head every which way even as her eyes refused to blink away the sleep. What had happened? Sam had flinched, had someone come in? She could hear someone walking around and setting things down, had someone snuck up on them?

“Good afternoon, ladies.” Ma’s voice cut through the haze of sleep. Just Ma. “I hope you don’t mind, I let you sleep in.” Ma is safe. “You both looked so exhausted.”

She finally managed to get the sleep out of her eyes and take in her surroundings once again. Sam was trying to act like she hadn’t been sleeping, even though it was more than clear that she had been. Not that anyone could blame her, it had been a long few days. There was nothing wrong with her getting some sleep.

Ma was still standing in the kitchenette, rummaging around and setting things out. If Tara looked a little closer, she noticed the entire array of food she was warming up and perfecting. Had she brought an entire family’s worth of food just for lunch? Actually, that probably wasn’t too far from the truth. Tara may have only met your Ma once, but she knew a homemaker when she saw one.

“Come over here and eat while it’s hot,” Ma said, “and I’ll fill you in.”

Tara and Sam gave each other a single look before standing up and making their way to the little two-person table. Ma had already made them their plates and set them down before quickly following with coffee and orange juice. It would have been enough to make Tara feel a little guilty if her stomach hadn’t decided at that moment to air its grievances at the lack of food lately.

“Y/N woke up a few hours ago,” Ma said once they had both started eating. Her hip rested against the counter. “Still a bit groggy, but otherwise okay.”

Tara nearly choked on her coffee. You were awake? That was a good sign, right? It meant you were going to make it, at least for now. That was a positive. But how else were you feeling? Mercy had mentioned lacerations to the face. How bad were they? Would you still look the same? Were you going to be okay?

“Any news on Ghostface?” Sam asked, acting as if Tara hadn’t nearly drowned in her own coffee.

“Not yet,” Ma said with a shrug. “But the boys said they’re close.”

“How do they know?” Tara asked, her voice croaky and weak. It was pathetic. Stupid coffee.

“They know,” Ma said without a hint of doubt. “Trust ‘em.”

She didn’t. Not really, at least. It wasn’t personal, but she could be forgiven for not entirely trusting people that she had no proof for. Not that she thought your family were liars, or incapable, or anything else. But she had proven time and time again that she could handle Ghostface and your family hadn’t. It was just the principle of the thing.

Ma didn’t take much longer to fill them in and tell them goodbye. She had mentioned someone else would stop by later that evening to fill them in and bring dinner, but otherwise they had the house - room? - to themselves. And as much as Tara didn’t want to be left alone, she was almost thankful for the peace and quiet.

The rest of the day and evening went off without a hitch. Tara and Sam watched far too many movies that were… not good, and played some of the board games that were left. Monopoly hadn’t gone well and had nearly ended in a brawl before they quickly called it a truce and put it away. No more Monopoly, that was the final decision of the night.

Mitch came by later that night with homemade pizza and little news of the outside world. Mindy and Anika were doing well, nothing new to report aside from the fact Mindy was starting to get stir crazy. Which was pretty accurate for her, the Carpenters wouldn’t deny it. You were also going stir crazy, apparently, and were on the verge of either fighting or flirting with every nurse that came into your room.

Tara wasn’t even upset. She had seen how you flirted with your brothers’ girls; this was on par for you.

Even though Mitch tried to prolong his stay and find something to do, Tara and Sam told him to go home and get some rest. He was sweet, probably one of the outwardly nicest ones of your bunch, but even they could see the exhaustion plain on his face. There was barely enough energy for him to argue once before he conceded and bid them goodnight.

There was no effort to stay up late and watch movies or delay the inevitable. They were tired, they were full, they finally felt like they could slow down and rest. At least Tara did, and she assumed Sam was on the same page considering she could also barely keep her eyes open. The bunk bed stayed unused as they made a small pallet on the floor in front of the still-playing TV and fell asleep.

When Tara awoke the next morning, it was to hushed whispers. She knew Sam’s voice like the back of her hand, but the other voice was still new. Although when Tara sat up and looked into the kitchen, she wasn’t entirely surprised to see Danny sitting across from Sam, his hands over hers like he was trying to comfort her.

“Morning,” Tara said just loud enough to make them both jump. Good. She hoped they felt a little guilty for waking her from the first peaceful night’s sleep in weeks.

“Danny brought breakfast,” Sam said.

“Thought we told you to stay away,” Tara said as she pushed herself to her feet. She was a little unsteady, but quickly recovered and made her way into the kitchen; she supposed he could be forgiven, considering he had brought donuts.

“I was worried,” he said with a shrug. “And if Y/N tries to sneak out one more time, someone is going to strap them to the bed.”

“So they’re doing okay?” Tara asked as she took a donut from the box. Blueberry; your favourite.

Nothing more than a coincidence.

“A little too okay,” he said. “Mercy is on the verge of keeping them sedated until they’re more than, you know, two days healed.”

Tara nodded to herself while she continued to munch on her donut. It was a little too sweet and a little too thick. But she supposed that was probably what you enjoyed so much about them. Did you like sweet things? If so, it didn’t explain why you liked her. She was anything but sweet.

She grabbed the nearest glass of orange juice - probably Sam’s - and walked back over to the couch to sit down while she continued to think. It wasn’t smart for her to let you invade all of her thoughts, not when there was still a killer on the loose. A killer that you hadn’t managed to stop and that most likely had an accomplice. She didn’t have time to sit there and think about your smile or your preferences for donuts.

Wait. Your smile?

Oh god, she hated you.

The longer Danny sat at the table with Sam, the more the atmosphere felt… wrong. Tara couldn’t quite put her finger to it. Nothing was going on, it was actually the most relaxed situation she had been in in months. A year, if she really thought about it. The TV was going, Sam and Danny were acting like lovesick puppies, she had a belly full of food.

She couldn’t put her finger on it.

A creak came from the door, and Tara didn’t even bother looking behind her. After all, why should she? The only ones who could find this place were your family. There was no doubt that no one else would have any idea even of just the tunnels underneath the streets, let alone finding the safe room that, surely, couldn’t have been the only one.

Wait. That wasn’t entirely true. It wasn’t just your family…

“Hello Sam.”

Every cell in Tara’s body froze. Now that. That was what was wrong. She knew that voice. It haunted her every dream, every thought, every waking moment. A voice that reminded her of Amber, of Richie, of being alone and knowing that he was going to win because of course he was, he was a cult classic icon.

Tara looked at the doorway before she could convince her body to stand up. Two Ghostfaces stood in front of the door as it swung shut, far too gently for the situation. Her eyes stayed locked to the two while she maneuvered herself around the couch, using it as a buffer on her way to where Sam and Danny were now standing.

“Lovely to see you here, Tara,” one of the Ghostfaces said. It was almost more terrifying to not know which one was talking.

“How did you get here?” Sam asked. Tara wasn’t looking at her, but felt her arm reach out and grab Tara’s forearm.

It hurt.

“Just like you,” Ghostface said. “We had a guide.”

Flashbacks of Amber ran through Tara’s mind. The room started to look like it was on a boat, rocking back and forth without giving her any chance of staying still. Someone had betrayed her again. How could this keep happening, why couldn’t anyone just let her live?

“The last Ghostface that cornered us didn’t have such a good time,” Sam said. “You might want to reconsider.”

“Do you want to tell her?” Ghostface said. “Or should we?”

What? Who were they talking to? Tell Sam what? Tara’s face pulled into a frown as she looked back and forth between everybody. Two Ghostfaces, one Sam, one Danny. What the hell were they even going on about? Maybe these two weren’t as smart as the other ones. Which Tara could’ve picked up on her own, but she had given them the benefit of the doubt.

Everyone remained silent, staring at each other. It almost felt like the entire room was daring someone to speak up, either to explain or to taunt. If it were up to Sam or Tara, she knew they would have taunted the Ghostfaces into making a stupid decision. All of them tended to have a bit of an ego problem, so it should have been easy enough.

“Fine,” Ghostface said. “We’ll make the first move.”

Tara’s entire body tensed to the point of pain. Her knees locked in place and she knew even if she wanted to, she couldn’t have moved. If they were going to come at her, she wouldn’t be able to get away fast enough. That old ache in her thigh came back as the image of Amber snapping her leg flashed behind her eyes.

Both Ghostfaces lifted their hands and Tara only thought of you. Of you laying in that hospital bed, completely unaware of the fact that you wouldn’t be getting a second date. There was nothing in the room to keep Tara safe, and she knew she couldn’t overpower the both of them. Not at once. She couldn’t even let you know.

But they didn’t reach for weapons like Tara had thought they would. No, they just reached up and grabbed their masks, pushing them back over their head until the hoods fell off and she could see their faces. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Hey Tara,” Ethan said with a smile and a friendly wiggle of his fingers.

“You’re Tara?” The other guy asked in a posh accent that reminded Tara of someone with money. She didn’t recognise him at all. “Y/N never shut up about you.”

He knew you?

“Ethan?” Sam asked. Tara still couldn’t bring herself to look away from the Ghostfaces.

“It’s not really what it looks like,” he said, his smile never leaving.

“It’s not?” Tara asked. “Because it looks like you’re the one who’s been hunting us.”

“Not you,” the other guy said before Ethan even had a chance to open his mouth. “Notice you never got hurt?”

“I don’t even know you,” Sam said with a shake of her head.

“Oh, right,” he said. He rubbed his gloved palms against his thighs before stepping forward and extending his hand. “I’m Garret.”

“I’m not shaking your hand,” Sam said with a shake of her head.

Tara knew that name…

“Garret as in Y/N’s roommate?” Tara finally asked, looking back at the guy.

“The very same,” he said with his own cheeky grin.

Your roommate. The one you had lived with for years, if your account was anything to go by. He was Ghostface? Surely he had to have known he was going after you, no one was that stupid. It didn’t make any sense. He looked far too happy and…

He had a giant bruise on the right side of his head.

“You’re the one who broke into Y/N’s apartment,” Tara mumbled. “You tried to kill Anika.”

“I didn’t mean to get her that good,” Garret said with a shrug. “She just got in the way.”

“I don’t understand,” Sam said with a shake of her head.

“Then have your boyfriend explain,” Garret said. Ethan quickly hit his arm, but he didn’t even flinch. “It was his idea.”

Tara swallowed harshly. The room started to get fuzzy, and she blinked her eyes rapidly to clear the haze. With the smallest move of her head, she looked at Sam and Danny out of the corner of her eyes. His jaw was clenched tight and he wasn’t even looking at Sam.

But Sam. Oh Sam. She probably had the same look Tara had when they found out Amber was Ghostface.

“What?” Sam asked softly.

“Now, just listen-”

“-Better explain faster than that,” Tara interrupted Danny. “Before I pull a Ghostface.”

“No one is after you,” Danny said in a soft voice that was enough to make Tara cringe.

“Then who?” Sam asked. She stepped back, holding her arm out so she could feel where Tara was and stopped when she was directly in front. Tara reached out to hold her hand, and Sam instantly squeezed it. “What’s going on?”

“Some idiots started the rumour that you were the killer,” Danny said. “After I met you, I knew they were wrong.”

Tara huffed. Was he really going to play Romeo? He better not be, she knew he wasn’t entirely stupid. At least he didn’t seem to be. On the other side of the room, Ethan and Garret stepped closer. If they took one more step, she was going to start swinging.

“If I could take the suspicion off of you, then you could be free again,” he continued. “Ghostface wouldn’t follow you anymore.”

“Did you tell them to hurt Anika?” Tara asked. “Or Mindy?”

“Of course not,” he said with a shake of his head.

“How about Y/N?” Tara asked.

Danny exhaled through his nose and looked over at Ethan and Garret. It’s not a no, she thought to herself. None of them were so much as making a noise, just standing there and communicating silently. About what, she couldn’t even begin to imagine.

But it didn’t matter. It was confirmation enough. He had either ordered it, or allowed them to try and kill you. Someone that he was supposed to be close with, someone that trusted him. Amber’s soft smile flashed in Tara’s mind’s eye; she quickly shook her head to rid herself of the memory.

“They’re at the most risk so,” Danny sighed, “they got to choose the target.”

Ethan twirled the knife between his fingers. “Think of it as payback for all the shit they gave me over the past year.”

“Bullying excuses murder?” Sam asked. “That makes sense.” She shrugged, but the roll of her eyes gave away her real opinion.

“And it frees you up, Tara,” he continued with a dreamy sigh and a boyish smile. “Wanna go on a date after this?”

“I’ll cut your dick off,” Tara said without an ounce of hesitation or remorse.

His smile slowly fell back into a thin line. There was no way he genuinely thought she would agree to go on a date after he tried to kill you. It didn’t matter if she had admitted how much she liked you, there was no way he was that stupid. Right?

"I told you," Garret said as he turned his head to look at Ethan. The side of his head looked like it needed stitches. "You have to finish Y/N off before asking her out."

"And what's your bullshit excuse?" Tara asked when it was clear Sam was too busy looking at Danny and zoning out. "You blaming it on some sick infatuation too?"

"Of course not," Garret said with his pretty rich-boy smile. "I simply thought it sounded fun."

That. That right there was almost more terrifying than any other motive Tara had heard. He had decided on killing his roommate for fun? She could hear the blood rushing through her ears, steadily increasing until it was practically deafening.

"Sam," Danny said softly, "everything is already in play." Tara turned to frown at him even as Sam stepped closer to her. "Once the boys finish taking care of Y/N, the police will arrest a decoy and you'll both be free."

Tara squeezed Sam's hand. They were going after you again? She had to warn you. She had to text you, or call your Ma, or Tony, or something, anyone that could get to you and keep you safe. Too many people had died because of her already, she refused to let you join the list.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tara saw something drop to the floor behind Ethan and Garret. Something heavy that continued to move even after landing. No one else seemed to notice it, as Sam and Danny were still talking to each other. 

The thing stood up behind Ethan and Garret, and Tara could finally get a decent look. It was a person, in an oversized jacket with the hood pulled over their head. Some kind of half-mask covered their face almost completely, save for the eyes that were shadowed by the hood. Their left arm hung dead at their side as they slowly walked closer.

Surely it wasn't another Ghostface, right? There were already three, technically. Why the hell would there be four? Were they not smart enough to follow the script? There were supposed to be two Ghostfaces, with the exception of Roman. And so far, no one had hunted Ghostface before. Although if Tara was being honest with herself, she would take up that mantle if ever given the chance.

She opened her mouth to say something, ask who their fourth party member was. But the person quickly lifted a gloved hand to their face, holding their finger over where she assumed their mouth was. Hush. Tara knew that one. And when she saw the knife gleaming in their hand, she quickly shut her mouth and nodded once.

The figure twirled the knife once. Tara barely even had time to breathe before the tip of the blade sliced its way through the back of Garret's head, extruding from his open mouth that was now no longer smiling. Someone screamed, but Tara just watched, frozen, as blood poured from the knife.

“Holy shit,” Ethan said.

He was soon interrupted by the sound of Garret choking on his own blood.

There was a wet, sickening sound as the knife pulled back. His eyes rolled back in his head before he fell to his knees, soon slumping over to the ground. He gagged and choked for a few more seconds, with everyone watching, motionless, before he fell silent. Only the occasional wet gasp broke the silence.

Tara lifted her eyes slowly, and her heart nearly beat out of her chest when she noticed the figure hold her gaze. She couldn’t see their eyes well, but she knew they were looking at her. There were almost no emotions in their eyes at all, nothing to show that they had just killed someone and was still standing in the ever growing pool of their blood.

“That one yours too?” Sam asked. She pulled Tara back into a corner, away from everyone else in the room.

“No,” Danny said. “It’s not.”

He tried to move closer to Sam, but one look from her kept him still. If it weren’t for the situation, Tara would’ve laughed at him. But she was a bit too worried about the new player of this sadistic game. If they weren’t one of Danny’s goons, then who were they? How had they gotten into the room so effortlessly? Did your family have any idea how many people knew the location of their supposedly safe room?

Ethan stepped back, tripping over his own feet on his way to stand next to Danny. Cute, Tara thought with a sneer before looking back at the figure who was still just standing there. What the hell was going on?

“What do we do?” Ethan asked.

Little bitch.

The figure blinked a few times before their eyes widened again. They wiped the knife on their pants leg before then pushing the hood back and away from their face. It was a Ghostface move, except for the shaking of hair that had Tara looking just a little closer-

-she knew that hair.

“I knew they couldn’t keep you down,” Danny said.

You just held his gaze. The half-mask stayed put, covering your face from the bridge of your nose down. There were bruises around your eyes that really made them pop. Not that Tara wanted to see it; she would rather you be safe and healed. Your arm still hung limply at your side. Bullet fragments, she remembered Mercy saying.

“How?” Tara asked quietly. You turned to look at her, and your eyes scrunched up.

“They’re high,” Danny said. “Aren’t you?” The scrunch of your eyes disappeared when you looked at him. “Mercy gave you the Vitale special.”

You still didn’t say anything.

“It’s fine with me,” Ethan said with a shrug and another twirl of his knife. “Means I get to kill you myself.”

You stepped backward until you were near the door while Ethan stalked forward. Tara knew how it was going to go; he was going to attack, you would either live or not, and then they were going to come after her and Sam. Even though they had said they wouldn’t, Tara wasn’t so naive as to believe them. Ghostface always targeted someone who went back to the original.

Amber’s face popped up in Tara’s mind again. She wanted her gone. She didn’t get to come back at the worst time possible while you were about to have to fight off Ethan. Why couldn’t she just leave her alone and let her move on? Tara wasn’t an original, she was just some kid from Woodsboro, she didn’t fit into this movie scheme that just wouldn’t quit.

Tara squeezed Sam’s hand when Ethan stepped closer, lifting the knife above his head. He was going to kill you, and you weren’t even trying to stop him. Why weren’t you trying to stop him? You had fought so hard, why was this any different? She needed you to put up a fight, she couldn’t live if you died-

-you turned the handle on the door and pushed it open before stepping to the side.

Gunshots rang through the small room, and Tara and Sam grabbed each other and fell to the floor. She could feel Sam’s hands covering her ears, and she quickly did the same. The shots were so loud, echoing throughout the room, leaving Tara’s ears ringing. Even when the shots stopped, she could hear them.

She flinched when a hand brushed against her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Sam’s hands were still covering her ears, but she opened her eyes and looked up and met Pop’s eyes. He had the same eye scrunch that you did when he smiled. It was an adorable similarity.

“Come on, sweethearts,” Pop said far too gently. Or maybe it was the fact everything was muffled by Sam’s hands.

Pop grabbed her by both shoulders and helped her up to shaky feet. Directly across from her, Tony was helping Sam stand as well. Pop’s hands didn’t let her go even as she started to look around at the room. Blood was dripping down the walls and spreading under the now three dead bodies laying on the floor.

Sam gasped.

Tara’s head quickly turned to face her, following her line of sight to Danny’s body laying on the floor near the table. It was riddled with holes that Tara assumed came from all of your brothers that were still standing around with guns hanging from their hands.

She put her hand on Sam’s bicep as gently as possible, even though she still flinched in response. But she quickly recovered and covered Tara’s hand with her own, giving her a sad smile before looking at Danny’s body one last time. Tara couldn’t imagine how devastated she must have been.

Two boyfriends, two Ghostfaces.

Sam would definitely need more therapy.

She looked down at the bodies again and grimaced.

Maybe she would need therapy too.

“Are either of you hurt?” Dicky asked from his spot beside you. You were leaning further into his side, your injured arm held close to your body.

“No,” Sam said as she pulled Tara into her own side. As much as she wanted to protest, Tara eagerly allowed it.

“Then let’s get everyone out of here,” Joel said. “We can talk back at the hospital.”

Pop and Tony led both Carpenters out of the room. Tara looked back to see Dicky wrap his arm around your waist, and Alfie was right behind you. You looked utterly exhausted and leaned heavily into Dicky’s side. She hoped you were okay. You were still wounded, obviously, but she hoped you were okay.

Tara’s mind was running rampant the entire trip back to the hospital. What had Danny meant, you were high? What was the Vitale special? She didn’t know very much about your family’s business, but that indicated drugs. There was no way you had managed to hide drug use from her. Right? No, there was no way. You were a bit eccentric, but clearly so was the rest of your family. It wasn’t possible.

That led to Tara’s next thought; how was Sam going to feel about everything? About you, the possibility of drugs, the fact that you had gotten your family to kill her boyfriend? Sure, Sam had killed her first one, but this one? This one truthfully hadn’t even tried to kill her. It was some bullshit Romeo excuse, but at least it was different. Was Sam going to hate you for everything?

Her mind wouldn’t shut up the entire walk, and even when they all got settled back in your room and Mercy started hooking you up again, she couldn’t silence the thoughts. She did her best to listen to what Mercy was berating everyone for, but nothing was making sense. It was like listening to the parents from all those Peanuts cartoons back in the day.

She did her best not to gasp when Mercy removed the mask to show the bloody bandages covering the bottom half of your face. When she was finally done, and you were hooked up to whatever you were supposed to be hooked up to, everyone finally sat down.

“We can explain,” Mitch said after a few seconds of awkward silence.

“Go ahead,” Tara said with a shrug. “I’ll accept anything at this point.”

“Danny wasn’t Y/N’s emergency contact,” Martha said from her spot at the long table in the room. “And none of us called him.” She shrugged. “I bugged his phone when he was in here.”

Tara had forgotten Martha was your tech guru. She looked over at you to see your reaction to the whole thing. Your eyes were open, but you were just staring at the spot right above the door. From what little you had told Danny, he had been your friend. Someone you had trusted. How did it feel to know he had been more than happy to sacrifice you for the chance at keeping his girl?

"He didn't even hide it in his texts," Alfie said with a shrug.

"Amateur," Martha scoffed.

"They won't be hurting anybody anymore," Pop said quickly before the conversation could take a different turn.

Everyone mumbled their agreements before going silent. It was more uncomfortable than nearly anything else Tara had ever experienced, which was saying a lot. She had been abandoned by both parents, left by her sister, nearly murdered by her girlfriend, killed her own girlfriend, and now had just seen three men get brutally killed. And yet, the silence of your family still trumped everything else.

Thankfully it wasn’t too much longer before everyone started talking again, laughing and joking and acting like a family again. But Tara couldn't help but notice that you were still unmoving, not even looking at whoever was talking. At one point, Ma moved until she was sitting directly beside you, talking with you until you finally nodded your head. She smiled, pressed a kiss to your head, and moved back to her original spot.

It wasn't until you finally fell asleep that everyone quieted down. Most bid their goodbyes, saying they would be back later. The kids should come, your Pop had insisted, and everyone mumbled agreements on their way out. Ma and Pop left the room to bring back some food, and Tara was left alone with Sam.

What was she supposed to talk about now? Did she apologise to Sam for her boyfriend getting killed? She hadn’t exactly done that with Richie, and this was the second time. Tara was no professional, but she knew for a fact there wasn’t some script for how to handle two of your boyfriends being Ghostface.

You shifted on the bed, and both Tara and Sam looked at you quickly. But you settled almost instantly and fell back asleep. She exhaled slowly and looked down at her hands. You were okay. Just sleeping. Yeah, just sleeping.

“We need a vacation,” Sam said, pulling Tara’s thoughts back to the situation at hand.

“Before or after therapy?” Tara asked. From her seat directly beside her, Sam gave her a tired smile.

“Definitely before,” she said with a nod. “Cancun?”

“I can work with that,” Tara said. “Just the two of us?”

“Yup,” Sam answered. She was still looking around the room, not focusing on any one thing. “10 days in Cancun, you and me, no distractions.”

“We can get everybody a t-shirt,” Tara continued.

They both laughed lightly, letting the conversation die down. Maybe talking things over with Sam wouldn’t be too awful. They would still very much need therapy but maybe they could get through it together again. Tara reached over and grabbed Sam’s hand, locking their fingers together.

“You know what I was thinking?” Sam asked once their tired laughter had died down.

Tara hummed in response.

“The next few weeks are going to be so nice,” Sam continued, squeezing Tara’s hand lightly.

“Why?”

“Y/N can’t talk.”

“Sam,” Tara scolded. But even she couldn’t deny that maybe it wouldn’t be such an awful thing.

“Should make it easy though,” Sam continued. “Now you can tell them how you feel without interruption.”

Tara sighed. Seemed Sam wasn’t going to let it go. Didn’t she know there were other things to worry about? Like the three guys they had just seen get shot to hell? Or the fact that they were now apparently part of some crime family with no known weaknesses? There was no way Tara’s admission to you was her top priority at the moment.

“This could have been a lot worse, T,” Sam said, finally turning to look at Tara. “Don’t wait.”

“Thought you hated them,” she said slowly. It was beyond clear that wasn’t the case anymore, but she wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t going to do something reckless until she knew all the facts.

“I do,” Sam said. “They’re the most insufferable person I know.” She smiled. “But I trust them.” Her smile turned into a smirk. “And I know you don’t sleep with just anyone.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Tara groaned.

“Don’t think I haven’t forgotten,” Sam said even as Tara pulled her hand away and back into her lap. “I may not have seen much, but I’ll never get that out of my head.”

“I’m not having a sex talk with you,” Tara said.

“Were you at least safe?” Sam continued. “Condoms, dental dams, have they been checked?”

“Sam?” Tara said. Sam looked over at her. “Get out.”

“Okay,” Sam said as she held her hands up in surrender. “But you better tell them.”

Tara watched Sam carefully as she stood up and left the room. They both knew they weren’t being serious; at least Tara hoped Sam knew. But she instantly started to regret her decision to kick Sam out when she realised now she was alone with you for the first time since… well, since she had stayed at your family’s house.

And now your eyes were open and you were looking at the ceiling again, seemingly in a daze.

“Hey,” Tara said softly. You blinked slowly before turning your head in her direction.

Obviously, you didn’t say anything.

Tara stood up and stretched as she looked around the room. Danny had said you were annoying everyone, so clearly you were talking to them somehow. Couldn’t be a phone, yours was nowhere to be seen. She looked over every inch of space, seeing nothing that would suffice. Well, seeing nothing until she finally found the small whiteboard at the foot of the bed. With shaky hands, she grabbed it and brought it back to the bed, setting it down on your lap.

“How are you feeling?” She asked. She waited as you slowly grabbed the marker and started writing on the board with messy handwriting.

Better than Ghostface.

Yeah, you were fine.

“Did you hear what Sam and I were talking about?” She asked.

You nodded, and that little crinkle under your eyes came back. She huffed; of course you did. It shouldn’t have been any surprise, you were apparently good at hearing things you weren’t supposed to. Maybe it was just something you were particularly adept at.

You started writing on the board again.

Gale told me the same thing.

Tara’s heartbeat was loud in her ears.

“You first,” she said quickly. Your crinkled eyes disappeared, transforming into a frown. “You’re oldest, you first.”

She heard you exhale harshly through your nose. Please do it, she thought when you still hadn’t moved. If you said it first, then she would know how to go about everything. Because what if you didn’t actually feel the same way? Sure, you had fought Ghostface, but that could be chalked down to survival. What if she was being delusional and you didn’t really like her like that, you only wanted to get laid?

You looked back down at the whiteboard and used the hospital blanket to clear it. With a shaky hand, you started writing again. She tried to follow what you were writing, but when you noticed, you moved the board sideways so she couldn’t see it.

Never mind. She didn’t feel bad for you anymore, you could suffer for all she cared.

When you put the whiteboard back down, it took a moment for her eyes to refocus before she could actually read what you had written. Her heart was so loud in her ears she almost couldn’t read. But when she could, she almost laughed.

I like like you.

She looked up at you. Your eyes sparkled for a second before you looked back down at the board, hastily scribbling something else down.

Not just for sex.

Now at that she did laugh, although it was more of a nervous laugh than anything else. She wouldn’t ever admit it to you, but you had just eased one of her biggest worries. Tara was more than aware that she had used you at that frat party all those months ago, but she had hoped you weren’t just doing the same thing.

Now she knew better.

“We’re not in middle school,” Tara said as she pointed her finger at the first sentence you had written. You rolled your eyes. Her hands felt clammy. “But I like like you too.”

Your head turned so quickly Tara almost thought she heard a pop from your neck. The eye contact was borderline unbearable; it was like you were searching her soul. That clamminess in her hands only got worse, and she pulled them back and rubbed them on her pants. She knew you couldn’t talk, but the silence was drowning her in her own thoughts.

You erased the whiteboard and wrote on it again.

Does this mean I have to be nice to Sam?

“Yes it does,” Tara said without hesitation, all worry from only a second ago now gone. “Chad too.”

You groaned, the first noise she had heard from you since she had seen you again. It was scratchy and almost a little funny sounding.

An idea popped into Tara’s head, and before she could talk herself out of it, she nudged your side gently. You frowned at her for a second before moving over, an almost inaudible groan leaving your lips. Her palms got sweaty again as she climbed into the bed and sat down next to you. It was like you were nothing more than a puppet as she grabbed your free hand and brought it into her lap.

She felt you move and heard the marker against the whiteboard.

You won’t leave?

“I mean,” Tara smiled to herself as she recalled what you had told her in the theatre. “I’ll have to leave to pee at some point.”

You groaned again and threw your head back against the pillow while Tara couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling past her lips. Seemed you could dish it out, but you couldn’t take it so well. But then you squeezed her fingers and turned your head to look at her again.

“Get some sleep,” Tara said softly. “I’ll be here.”

You held her eyes for a moment before you nodded once. Your eyes crinkled, and it left a warmth in Tara’s chest. She held still as you shifted around, scooting down on the bed until you could lean your head against her arm. You left your hand in her lap and it only took a few seconds before you were out again.

Only after she was sure you were asleep did Tara lean down and press a lingering kiss to the top of your head. All the anxiety and fear from the past few days disappeared with each calm, steady breath you took. Ghostface was gone, no one would even know they were gone, and maybe this whole fad could fade away.

With the comforting thought of finally getting some peace, Tara leaned back against the bed and closed her own eyes. Sleep had never come so easily.

Let The Light In |4|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter 4: Leave That For The Adults

Summary: Tara has been driving herself crazy trying to figure out what she's feeling and you're not making it any better. And you get stuck having dinner with a certain teeth edging family member

Warning(s): Some angst, swearing, mentions of underage drinking, intoxication, dry heaving, gagging & throwing up

Notes: We get to see a little more of R's past in this one and I think you're gonna like one specific scene I wrote 🤭

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

Tara, Mindy, Chad and Ethan were once again over at your and Anika’s apartment to hang out with her. She tried to convince you to hang out with them but you weren’t interested. Your answer was always the same whenever she asked. 

They just weren’t your crowd. They weren’t in high school and they aren't now. You were fine with that. Anika on the other hand wanted you to get to know them. They were friends with her girlfriend and became her own. She wanted all of you to get along.

She was fully aware of your rocky relationship with Tara but that wasn’t going to stop her from trying. Anika only knew a few things; you and tara have hated each other since high school and according to Mindy it started out of the blue.

“Chad I swear to god if you don’t stop throwing that blue shell at me,” Tara said as she swerved along with her kart on the screen. “It’s not my fault your reflexes on Mario Kart suck–” Tara threw a pillow at him “–hey! No pillow throwing.”

“Aaaand victory is mine!” Mindy raised her arms victoriously. “Take that losers,” she smirked while the rest of them groaned. 

“Winner gets to choose where we eat for dinner and I say that diner around the corner.” After a few minutes they start to get ready to leave. “Oh hold on one second,” Anika said before approaching your bedroom door and knocking.

“Yeah?” She heard you ask from the other side. “We’re going to that diner around the corner. You wanna come?” Shit. Anika knew damn well it was your favorite place to eat. The only flaw is that it doesn’t deliver. 

Your roommate heard groaning and shuffling before the door swung open. “Sure I’m in.” You were wearing jeans and a Batman shirt that looked a little too thin for the chill fall weather. “Aren’t you going to be a bit cold?” She asked before you rolled your head back and grabbed your older brother’s letterman jacket. 

“I’ll take this. Happy mom?” She rolled her eyes before replying. “Very, now come on.”

The walk over was short but you still trailed behind them the entire time. When you all sat in a booth you chose to hide with a menu by holding it up in front of your face. You stared at the menu as if you weren’t going to order your usual. Anika and Mindy sit beside you as Ethan, Chad and Tara sit in front of you. 

They have multiple conversations that you choose to stay out of until you hear your name. “So, Y/N, you like Batman?” You put down the menu and tilt your head slightly, looking at the curly haired boy who had spoken.

“It’s just I noticed your Batman shirt,” Ethan continued as he briefly pointed to the shirt you were wearing. “Oh yeah. He’s cool. You?” He smiled and nodded. 

A conversation between the two of you – that was Ethan asking you questions and you responding with a short answer or hum – eventually picked up. During all this you couldn’t help but feel like you were being stared at but chose to ignore it. Your conversation with Ethan was put on pause when the food came. You quietly munched on your fries until Tara spoke up.

“So, Y/N–” here we go “–you only come out of your room for food and the occasional bathroom breaks…you’re kind of like a deer.” She took a bite of one of her onion rings. “A deer? What– well you’re five foot nothin’ so I don’t know why you’re talkin'.” You shot back. It wasn’t the first time somebody’s compared your habits to a deer. 

“I’m five foot one!” She defended with a scoff before you responded. “But who’s keeping track, right? And speaking of which–” everybody at the table were now staring at the both of you “–why are you keeping track of my routine anyways?” 

“Oh you are so full of it,” Tara said with her arms now crossed. “Full of what? I haven’t accused you of anything yet my little stalker. Simply just asking,” you shrugged while wearing a smug look that Tara wanted to ki- smack right off your face.

“Don’t you still sleep with a Spider-Man plushie?” Tara retorted before sipping her milkshake, her eyes never leaving you. “Technically I don’t sleep with him, he sits on my nightstand. Wait– how do you know about him?” You asked with tilt in your head.

Tara suddenly avoided your stare as she twirled her straw in her milkshake. “You mentioned it at some point,” she finally murmured.

“You remembered that?” She remembered that?  Even you couldn’t remember mentioning that to her until now. 

“It’s not a big deal. Not like it’s a hard thing to remember.” It suddenly got quiet between the two of you. All of them eventually drifted off into their own conversation as you silently nibbled on another one of your fries.

Suddenly you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. The message you read causes you to freeze and your eyes to widen.

Dad (8:56 pm) I’m coming over this weekend. 

“Shit,” you mutter and Anika turns over to you. “What’s wrong?” she asks but then her eyes catch the message you’re still staring at. Before she could say anything else you were already typing away.

Y/N (8:58 pm) Tomorrow?

You started to push down on your thumb’s cuticles with your index finger while waiting for a response. 

Dad (9:01 pm) Yes

Tomorrow was Saturday and you were originally going to help Tara with one of her assignments and then play video games at Henry’s place but not anymore. Now you’re going to get stuck with your father. It wasn’t an ideal situation. You and him never got along. 

You were never his favorite and that was alright with you cause he was never yours. All he did was bring problems. If he wasn’t busy cheating on your mom then he was nit picking at you and every little thing you did. No matter what you did you just couldn’t be enough for him.

A foot gently tapping your own from under the table pulled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see Tara with her eyebrows furrowed. You simply cleared your throat and shook her head a bit, trying to show you were fine. She looked you up and down – not believing you one bit – before turning back to her conversation with Chad.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and you turned your head to find Anika. “Are you gonna need the apartment this weekend? It’s not a problem if you do,” she asked and reassured you. 

“No, I think I’m just gonna take him out for dinner. Besides, he only knows where I’m attending college. He doesn’t know where I live and I’d like to keep it that way,” you murmured back before sipping your milkshake. You saw her nod from the corner of your eye before she turned back to Mindy.

When you all left the diner you and Tara went back to your bickering. Chad rubbed his stomach before letting out a tiny groan. “Shit, I shouldn’t have drank the milkshake and soda.” Mindy rolled her eyes and replied, “I told you not to drink both.” 

You and Tara were slightly ahead of the group. “Yeah bu– are those ghost socks?” You asked, cutting yourself off. Tara looked down at her socks for a second before looking back at you. “Yeah, and?” You put out your bottom lip as you shook your head. “Nothing. I think you look cute in them. Anyways back to the point I was making–” Tara didn’t hear much after the word “cute.”

Why are you acting as if you didn’t just call her cute? Were you doing this on purpose? Making her feel like this? Like butterflies were flying around in her stomach? Surely you knew. This had to be another one of your tactics. Another way for you to get inside her hea–

“Watch out for dog shit,” you said as you pulled her by the waist and away from the crap she was about to step on. When you removed your hand from her waist she almost missed it. Almost.

“You okay?” She turned her head to look up at you. “Yeah, fine.” Tara responded before looking back ahead. 

Mindy and Anika watched the whole interaction. They gave each other a silent look before continuing their own conversation. 

“You seem out of it.” Tara gave you a raised eyebrow before you elaborated. “I just mean, usually you would’ve had a rebuttal for me by now. You doin’ okay?” You were now fully looking at her and she hated the concern in your eyes.

She turned her head, no longer able to handle your stare. “I said I was fine, didn't I?” Tara crossed her arms. You gave her a tight lipped look before sighing, “Okay then…”

When you all got back to your apartment you placed your leftovers on the counter. Just as you were about to go to your room your phone started ringing. 

You tense up before saying, “I’m gonna take this,” and going to your bedroom. Leaving Anika and the rest of them in the living room. 

You silently sighed in relief as you heard your mom’s voice. The call itself didn’t take too long. It was just her checking in, making sure your father told you about him being in Manhattan this weekend – as vague as he was – and that her and your younger brother, Stephen, would be joining you and him for dinner.  You had zero complaints to this as you did not want to be left alone with your father.

When you stepped out of your room you completely forgot people were over. You stopped in your tracks as their heads turned to you for a brief moment, Tara was biting on her nails but dropped them from her mouth as soon as she saw you and looked back at the TV. 

“Great, you’re all still here,” you said sarcastically before sitting down in the loveseat. Anika kicked your feet due to your blatant comment. 

“Be nice,” she mouthed. You lifted your legs to rest on the loveseat’s armrest. You had no idea why you were sitting out here anyway. Originally you had come out of your room thinking they had left. You definitely weren’t in the mood for company. 

But when are you ever?

“Oh um, Tara I’m not gonna make it tomorrow,” you told her after a few minutes of silence. “Why?” Tara sinked further into the couch when she realized she sounded more disappointed than she intended. 

“I’m getting dragged off to this dinner thing tomorrow but I’ll make it up to you,” you simply answered before standing up and walking over to the kitchen. Mindy looked at you as you walked then to Tara with raised eyebrows.

“What?” Tara asked with a bored tone. “I’ll make it up to you~” Mindy mocked while dramatically fluttering her eyelashes. 

“Shut up.” 

—

You haven’t seen your father since you moved to Woodsboro your sophomore year. You didn’t even see him after were attacked by ghostface. Not that you expected any less from him, this was just the type of man he was. When you get to the restaurant the first people you see are your younger brother and mom. 

She greets you with a kiss to the cheek and you and your brother settle for a simple nod. Once you’re all seated you ask the question that’s been on the tip of your tongue since you walked in. “So, where’s dad?” Your mom sighed before answering. A sigh you knew all too well. “He’s on his way. There was just a little traffic. Stop worrying honey, leave that for the adults.” She looked at you with a gentle smile to ease her words.

You exhale through your nose, lightly moving your index finger against the glass cup set in front of you. I am an adult, you wanted to say but this wasn’t the place for that. Not now.

“What’s college like?” Stephen asked, pulling you from your thoughts. You continued to stare at the glass as you answered him. “Still there.” You could hear your mom clear her throat. You moved your eyes to look at her before moving them back to the glass. “Some of the classes are actually worth looking forward to so I guess that’s something.”

“Well that’s good. You’ve been keeping up with your studies?” You nodded. Before she could get another word out you felt a familiar grip on your shoulder. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic.” 

“Dad,” you heard your brother say. “Hey, buddy. How was the train?” Your father asked as he took the vacant space beside your mom. “It was okay,” Stephen answered. 

“Y/N.” You finally looked over to him. “Dad,” you responded less enthusiastically than your brother.  Stephen and your mom shared a look before you heard her speak. “Do you two know what you want?” She asked you and your brother.

Stephen nodded and you hummed.

“So, did Stephen tell you yet?” Your father asked. You looked at him then to Stephen, saying, “Tell me what?”

Your father wore a proud grin as he spoke, “He’s going to be a cop. Just like his old man and I couldn’t be prouder.” Your mom let out a silent sigh, knowing where the night was headed. “That’s great,” you took a sip of your water.

“Isn’t it? He’s going to be great.” Stephen nervously chuckled before finally saying something. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just thinking about it.” Your father shook his head, “It’s a calling, bud and you’re going to do amazing.” He sounded nothing but proud. 

You gave a small smile to your brother before turning back to your glass. You expected no less from tonight. You knew your father couldn’t be here five minutes without being ‘Officer Y/L/N.’ That was your relationship with him growing up. It seemed like he knew more about being a cop than how to be your dad. 

The waitress came with the food and left and the interrogation began. “So,” your father started, “you’ve been staying out of trouble?” You rolled your eyes.

“Course’ I have.” He grunted at your answer and responded, “There’s no need for an attitude. I have plenty of reasons to ask you that or did you forget about the shit you did in Brooklyn?” 

You roll your eyes again. “That was years ago. I don’t do that stuff anymore.” He eyed you before picking up his fork and knife, cutting through his chicken. “Mhm, kay,” you heard him mutter with doubt laced in his tone and you clenched your jaw.

“And stop rolling your eyes. It’s a bad habit,” he added before taking a bite of his food. You subconsciously closed your eyes for a second as you felt yourself about to roll your eyes again. He always found something to nitpick at. 

The rest of the night continued to go on like that. Your father continued to bring up your track record to get a rise out of you and you responded back with quips as you picked at your own skin under the table. 

Not much has changed since you were fifteen. 

The best news you got all night was that your father would be heading home the same night. You felt relief wash over you as you heard him say that. And as much as you love your mom and brother, you were glad they had their own ride home because you were simply too exhausted to be behind a wheel tonight. 

You were walking to your apartment when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. You took it out to find a text from Anika.

Nik (10:53 pm) Hey! I went to carvel today, there’s a chocolate and vanilla twist waiting for you in the freezer

You slightly smiled, now off to the side and leaning against a shutter. You replied to the message, giving a quick thanks, before only putting in the right side of your headphones in and continuing your walk to your apartment. 

A hotdog stand caught your attention. The smell was alluring and you felt your stomach grumble. Damn it. You just came back from dinner but of course you were still hungry. It was dinner with your father. You never got much eating done, choosing to use your mouth for arguing rather than chewing and swallowing. 

You knew how unreliable street food was but at the moment you truly didn’t care. You chose to stick with a simple order, a hotdog with ketchup drizzled top. You got a Dr Pepper from a store nearby before sitting down on a bench and eating. This was the most at peace you felt all night. Sitting on a bench, listening to music, eating a hotdog and washing it down with Dr Pepper.

If only that peace lasted.

When you got home you went to turn on the light, not expecting them to be on since Anika was supposed to be out with Mindy, but you realized they were already on. You furrowed eyebrows. Anika usually doesn’t forget something like that.

“Anika?” You called out, reaching for the bat you hid under your couch when you first moved in. After a few seconds you heard her reply, “Y/N? Yeah in here!” It sounded like she was in the bathroom. You reluctantly put the bat back before going over to the bathroom.

“Hey what’s wro–” You cut yourself off when you see an ill looking Tara hunched over your toilet. Mindy was holding her hair back as Anika turned to you. “Hey um, sorry to just drop this on you. I know you probably had a long night but could you help us with something?” 

You gave Tara one more glance before answering, “Yeah of course. What do you need?” You could hear Tara gagging. “Can you keep an eye on her while we get her some supplies from the pharmacy?” You nodded and murmured, “Course.’ ”

You switched places with Mindy, lifting Tara’s hair and even pushing a few extra strands from her face. She was clearly drunk and you couldn’t help but admit you hated seeing her like this. You didn’t go to as many parties as she did but from what you’ve heard most of her free nights end with her being drunk.

“You're never gonna let me forget this, are you?” Tara said in between gags. You subconsciously moved one of your hands to her lower back, softly rubbing in circles.

“What? You think I like seeing you like this?” You asked genuinely. Surely she knew you didn’t…right? Seeing her in such an unhealthy state only brought a feeling of– well you couldn’t find the right word for what you felt. But you knew it wasn’t anything positive.

“Don’t you?” She slurred, clearly she hadn’t puked up all the alcohol just yet. You exhale through your nose, taking your hand off her lower back to reach into your pocket to grab a hair tie. Tara missed the contact but refused to say anything. Only pouting at yourself for even thinking such a thing.

You run your hands through her hair, brushing it back and tying it in a loose but secure ponytail. You push a single loose strand behind her ear causing your knuckles to brush against her cheek. Tara’s breath hitches and she blushes, due to your touch. 

Goodness, what were you doing to her?

“No. I don’t,” you finally answered. She went to say something but was cut off by dry heaving and your hand immediately went back to her lower back, continuing to rub gentle circles.  

You could hear the faint sound of your front door opening and a few seconds later the bathroom door slowly opened. 

“Hey, we got everything,” Anika told you. You turned your head to see her with a pharmacy bag. You and Anika got Tara to the couch in one piece while Mindy was in the kitchen setting up everything Tara would need. “Oh Y/N, before I forget. Tara’s staying the night because Sam will freak out if she comes home like this,” Anika told you as you wiped the remnants of drool and throw up off Tara’s face. You thought for a second before responding,“Okay, she can take my bed.” Tara was now passed out cold on the couch, hugging a pillow close to her chest. 

“Are you sure?” Your roommate asked and you hummed. “Listen, we may hate each other but my mom raised me right. I’m not leaving her on the couch. Besides, I’m assuming Mindy’s also staying to keep an eye on her and you two shouldn’t have to get stuck cuddling on a couch all night.” 

After Anika hesitantly agreed, you set up your bed and then went back to the couch to find Tara still fast asleep. You lifted her bridal style and started the walk to your room. Tara mumbled something incoherent before her eyes fluttered open. She seemed confused as she looked around then up at you. “It’s okay, go to sleep,” you said in a soft voice that made Tara’s cheeks warm.

Once you placed her in your bed you put the covers over and gently lifted her head to put a pillow under her. Her eyes were once again shut, you assumed she fell asleep again and looked at her for a moment before leaving the room but not without leaving the door open by a sliver. Just in case anything happened and she needed you– or anyone.

When Tara woke up she instantly noticed the pounding headache she had and groaned. She rubbed her temples and after a minute she took a look around. This was not her room. Has she been kidnapped? But it was then when all the memories from last night came rushing to her. 

All the embarrassing memories. She could remember starting off with a shot…then two…then three…then she woke up to Anika and Mindy helping her up and walking her out of the party. She had complained about not wanting to go back to her own place because Sam would kill her so Anika and Mindy brought her to Anika’s apartment instead and Mindy messaged Sam that they were staying the night at her house.

After that she felt like throwing up…and she did. Then she didn’t stop for a while. And then– oh this is when the embarrassment comes in. That’s when you came home and Anika asked you to help while they went out for supplies. 

Oh, you were so gentle with her. She almost let out a dreamy sigh while looking back until she caught herself. Snap out of it, Carpenter, she scolded herself. But then another memory of you carrying her bridal style to your bed and tucking her in appeared. 

No. Mindy wasn’t right and Tara still despised you. You were still the same asshole from high school. 

She heard two soft knocks on the door and looked over to see you carrying a plate of scrambled eggs. “Didn’t know if you were awake,” you murmured. You walked over and placed them beside the water bottle and aspirin you left for her the night before. 

“Anika made some scrambled eggs and eggs are good for hangovers, so…” You awkwardly shifted back and forth on your feet with your arms behind your back, your hands holding onto each other. “I’m gonna go.” And with that you left the room, not waiting for a response from Tara. 

After five minutes, Tara finally leaves your bedroom. “There she is,” Mindy smiled at her before putting a grape in her mouth. “So loud,” Tara mumbled while lifting a hand to her head.

She lifted herself onto the stool beside Anika and Mindy and put her head down. But she lifted her head slightly and shifted her eyes, noticing a certain her nuisance wasn’t there to bother her or call her princess.

“Where’s Y/N?” She asked in her morning voice. “Your lover girl had a morning shift at the cafe,” Mindy answered. Tara didn’t have the energy to make a retort or argue back saying, “She’s not my lover girl.” She settled with putting her head back down with heavy eyes.

“What time is Sam expecting us?” Anika asked her girlfriend who answered, “Eleven so we should probably get ready soon.”

After a few minutes Tara went back to your bedroom to gather her stuff when suddenly she realized she didn’t recognize the hoodie she was wearing. She looked down and saw Spider-Man at the center of the hoodie, putting up his hands to form a heart. She could recall seeing you wearing this around campus before and noted that it smelled like you. She could never admit that she actually appreciated the gesture considering the tank top you put it over wasn’t doing anything to keep her warm.

It wouldn’t hurt to keep the hoodie, right?

She looked over at the scrambled eggs you had brought in for her before sitting down on the edge of the bed, swinging her feet as she thought to herself. Guess it wouldn’t hurt to eat the eggs. It was Anika who made it after all. She ate a few bites over your nightstand before taking a sip of water and took an aspirin.

When she got back home she greeted Sam before laying down on her bed and replaying last night over and over again and how she had to face you in class the next day.

—

When Tara got to class you greeted her as if nothing happened. “Hey, you look like you just got run over by a truck,” you said, causing her to roll her eyes at you. “Oh do I?” She asked rhetorically and took out her laptop. 

Throughout class her mind kept trailing back to your gentleness towards her that night. All Anika told you to do was watch her. She didn’t tell you to wipe the drool and throw up off her face, put her hair in a ponytail or rub her back as she gagged. 

The fact that you had somehow found your way into her head was pissing Tara off. So pissed in fact that instead of going about her usual routine with you she just chose to ignore you.

You weren’t sure why Tara was ignoring you. Obviously something seemed off with her but you had no idea what. Was she mad at you? She didn’t seem her usual mad, this was different. She’s never taken her aggression out by ignoring you. By using colorful words? Yeah. But never with silence. 

Oh.

You must've done something terrible. But what?

As you walked to your next class you tried to look back at what you could’ve possibly done. You hadn’t done anything you haven’t done before. Just your usual banter with Tara, nothing out of the norm. By the time you got to your apartment later that day you were still trying to figure out what you could’ve done. This shouldn’t be stressing you out as much as it was. It was just Tara after all. 

Anika noticed your distressed state and walked to the kitchen, a minute later coming back with your chocolate and vanilla twist and handing it to you. “Thanks,” you said as you took the ice cream from your roommate.

“Wanna talk about what’s got you like this?” She asked you, moving to sit in the love seat. You moved the spoon around a bit in your ice cream before answering. “I just…I don’t know what I did but T– this person is giving me the silent treatment and I just don’t know why. I’ve been trying to come up with something I could’ve done to get that treatment but nothing’s coming to me,” you finally said as Anika nodded along and listened. 

“Well, you can be kind of an asshole sometimes. Seems like you've thought pretty hard on this. You care a lot for this person?” She suddenly asked. You almost wanted to laugh. Would Anika be asking this if she knew you were talking about Tara?

“Oh, goodness no. She’s just an– acquaintance? I guess you can say. If you even wanna call her anything,” you answered her. “You seem pretty sure of that,” she stated with a tone of doubt.

“Cause’ I am.” You responded trying to sound certain. “Then why care so much if she’s ignoring you? If you don’t care about her then you shouldn't care if she’s giving you the silent treatment,” Anika continued as you sat there and took in every word.

“I could easily move past this whole thing and forget about it entirely if I wanted to,” you defended not so convincingly. “Okay. Then move past it,” she challenged. 

“Alright, I will then,” you said. “You’re gonna lose sleep over this,” Anika confidently said as she walked away to her room. You huffed as you ate your ice cream. I won’t lose sleep over Tara freakin’ Carpenter. 

Later that night you were sprawled on your bed…and thinking about Tara.

-----------

A/N: wonder what's gonna happen next 🤔

Taglist: @t-wylia @lesbianpepsi @jennasfav @alyciaddict @justafoolinlove @steffido1993 @niqmandu @severelyuniquereview @darklron @ravenousinferno @smut-religiously777 @beautifulmongerbanditsalad @vanatalye

-Save Me From Her pt. 3

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: The past comes back to haunt, and it doesn't like the present.

a/n: Hai everybody! Sorry that this took this long to come out, but life has been lifing, and I needed to get a hold of my mental health and stuff like that. Anyways, enjoy!

warnings: amature writing, wounds, stabbing, Canon-typical violance, multiple POV's, mixed POV's, mass homocide, blood, blood, and more blood (also; not proofread. I will, but not yet. When I did, I will remove this. I just wanted to push this out as quick as possible.

“Lolly!”

Her voice was venomous as it echoed through the small room, shivering, and agitated.

“Come ‘ere…”

The voice disintegrated, everything in it becoming shadowy dust, blown away by the wind. Her voice faded as well, as it was taken over by a sound that cut through the very fabric of nature. A scream, loud, horrid, and filled with emotion. Filled with anger, with hate and rancor.

“She was screaming, shouting, and begging for it to end.” The voice sounded from the depths of darkness. “Yet you did nothing!”

Her face emerged from the dredge, emotionless. Her eyes like glass, her mouth ripped open, deep bruises across her features. Dead. Then her voice sounded again, the former emotions snuff from the words she spoke, replaced with sadness. She sounded bitter, heartbroken. Disappointed.

“We could have been happy Y/N. We could have been…”

----------------------------

Tara was worried about you. Ever since you saw the note, you haven’t been the same. You acted like nothing happened, talked to the cops about the attack whilst soothing her quivering body. They asked about the dead body as well, which you gave the full truth about; that he attacked you two yesterday and that in his drunk state, you could fend him off. With her help you went through about what happened inside the building today, skipping over the personal parts of course.

Even though you kept a straight, composed face, even when you talked calmly, not a hint of trembling present in your voice, she could see through your façade. You were shaken to your core. She saw the slight flinch of your eyes when the name ‘Lolly’ came up, she felt the almost unnoticeable tightening of your grip around her whenever they asked about your wounds. The little motions your lips, your body, they all gave you away. She has never seen you like this. Scared. You weren’t whilst talking back to someone twice your size, not when you defended her yesterday from the drunk, not when you two fled for your lives today. Not when the knife was inches away from your face. Never

Yet now, you were. The reappearance of Ghostface by itself made Tara too, your state had only worsened hers. She was afraid for you. The worry she felt for you overwhelmed every other emotion that would rise in her. She felt like she needed to stay strong, for the both of you. Falling apart was not an option.

After the ambulance patched you up, the cops approached you once more.

“You’ll have to come with us so that we may pick up your statements at the precinct.”

Tara raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t we just tell you what happened?”

“Yes, but to officially record it, we need you to be at the station.”

“But-“ Tara started but your soft, gentle hand on her shoulder made her stop.

“Let’s follow the officers Tara” you said, looking at the young woman. You were composed and confident.

She huffed but gave in to you. “Can I call Sam from your phone please? I left mine in your apartment.”

“Here” you mumbled as you absentmindedly handed her yours from your back pocket.

As Tara started to dial in her sister’s number, she saw it was already saved. At the name she raised her brow again. “Who is ‘Geralt’?

“Oh, it’s her” you say, blushing a little. "It's from Witcher.

“I know, but why is this her name?” she asks, turning the screen towards you.

You shy away from her unwavering gaze, then press the call button and push her hand back towards her face. “Oh, no you won’t escape this-“ she starts but Sam is faster, as she immediately picks up the ringing phone. She hears her voice calling out for her from the other end of the line.

"Tara! I just saw the news. Are you okay? Are you hurt? I'm on my way and be there as fast as possib-" her unrelenting assault of words is cut off by Tara.

"Sam, calm down and take a breath. I'm uninjured, but Y/N got a nasty cut on her neck. The police want us to go down to the precinct to pick up our statements. Meet us there?"

"Yeah, sounds good! Be careful!"

"Off what? I'll be surrounded by cops for god's sake!"

"We both now that won't stop him" Sam said, voice low and mournful. Flashing memories of the hospital ran through Tara's mind for a second and sent a shiver down her spine. The dead cop, laying limp on the floor with an open throat, the pain and the fear coming back to her all of a sudden. Her senses numbed, not hearing Sam's voice on the other end of the line, the lights becoming blindingly bright, yet she couldn't close or avert her eyes. She was frozen in place, helpless just like when she was crawling away from her. From the one that said she would be always by her side. The one that said whatever the case, she would keep her safe. The one that said she loved her.

She flinched when she felt something touch her and snapped her head backwards. At your sight she calmed, only now noticing, and taking in her surroundings once again. "Okay Sam, I will. Bye" Tara managed to say, then hung up.

"She knew?" your voice was soft, so soft. Why were you this thoughtful with her always? It made her heartbeat faster, making her able to believe she could be normal again. But life always had a way to prove her wrong, doesn't it?

"By now all of the world could now" she gestured behind you, towards the police line where an army of reporters were lined up. You sighed as you noticed them. "We are gonna meet her at the station."

"Then let's get moving." Tara felt your hand on her back, nudging her gently to get to the police car.

You opened the door for her, then scrambled to the other side to do the same for yourself. When you got in and closed the car, the sounds of the outside vanished, a comfortable silence filling the space. The vehicle soundlessly rolled out to the road, the lights of the city blaring by the window that Tara's head was leaned against. The cops in front were chattering quietly, trying not to disturb you two.

The Carpenter felt odd. Out of place. Everything was calm. Nothing should be calm. Ghostface was back. He was here to bring her and her loved one’s pain, suffering, and death. Why her? Then she thought of the note. This wasn't about her. No, you knew what the name meant, it scared you. This wasn't about her she realized. This was about you. She rethought the attack, every little detail she could think of. She was the first one to get called, but that didn't mean much. All the time, he was staring at you with his dead eyes, always attacking you. She remembered the occasions where he could have wounded her, yet he was focused solely on you.

Tara looked over to your side of the backseats, taking in your features again. You were just as disturbed as her, deep in thought and uncomfortable. You would have looked cute if one didn't know about what had happened. Tara saw your pained gaze, could feel that your thoughts were eating you up inside and hated every moment of it. Your usual smile wasn't there to light her up. She missed your crinkling eyes that could melt the coldest frozen hearts, your witty jokes, that you would throw in the worst time possible. So, she tried to distract you.

"I want an answer" she demanded, looking at you with furrowed eyes. She surprised you with speaking up, that she could see. You looked at her, confused and unfocused. "I want an answer" she repeated. You clearly didn't know what she was talking about, but she needed you to get speaking so you wouldn't shut off again.

"What answer?" your voice full of confusion.

"The answer to my question" Tara said matter-of-factly.

You rolled your eyes at her statement. "Which one Tara?"

"Why the hell is my sister saved in your phone as Geralt of Rivia?"

You reddened instantly, looking everywhere but her. "It was mainly meant to be a joke…"

"But?"

You gulped and glanced over to her a few times. She knew her unwavering gaze would brake your resistance, and it did. "Anika pointed out that he resembles some of his attributes." You say, still not looking at her.

"Like what?" Tara asked playfully. You looked like a child caught in the act of stealing cookies from the fridge. You swallowed again, clearly rethinking your life choices since the date of your birth. "Y/N, don't think that I'll let you off the hook this easily."

"She is strong, layered and protective besides being misunderstood and mistreated!" you blurted out, looking straight at her. Once you did, your eyes widened and went pale as a ghost. Tara could feel her smile widening to unimaginable lengths before bursting out in laughter. "I'm only telling the truth here! Don't laugh at me" you pouted. You looked so kissable.

"N- no it's not you it's just" she tried to say in between laughs. "It's just that it's so accurate. She would be fuming if she heard about this."

"And that's why she will never know!" So kissable.

"Oh, I don't know about that" she smirked. "My tongue is in a slippy mood these days…"

"No, Tara I'm serious!" you pleaded, face contorting in fear. "She would kill me! I have barely made it on her list of tolerated people! I don't want to end up-" she cut you off with her lips on yours. Your eyes widened for a moment, taking in what was happening, but she didn't give you enough time to fully comprehend it. She leaned back and watched your gaping face. After you finally shook off the surprise, you smirked at her. "Well, if I end up like this, I don't mind her knowing."

Tara rolled her eyes at you but the butterflies in her stomach rendered her silent. What exactly was this? You kissed her back, that surely meant you liked her too, right? She didn’t have much time to think because you leaned in to kiss her again, this time deepening it. You cupped her cheek with your right hand, whilst the left on found hold on her waist, gently rubbing circles under the fabric. When you had to separate for air, she pressed her forehead against yours, eyes locking with each other.

“I-“ Tara started, but stopped herself. The words she was about to speak didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel enough. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to think up something that would be better.

“I know” you said simply, caressing her face with your fingers. She opened her eyes again, and your heart started beating faster at the sight of them, full of hope and concern. “Me too.”

Your words made the swarm of butterflies in Tara’s stomach grow into a horde. “Since when?”

“Anika told me what you told Mindy” you said with a smirk. “That’s when I really started to hope for it to be true. I never fully believed it until know though.”

“You mean the time when they got together?” At your nod her face reddened. She then narrowed her eyes and leaned back. “Mindy is dead to me.”

“Oh, come on, they share everything between each other, and Anika could never stand my stare.”

“It was meant to be a secret!”

“If you want to blame someone, blame me for being a too good sister, from which the other can’t keep anything from!”

“Yeah, if anything you’re an idiot” she said, smiling.

“I might be” you leaned back too and smirked at her. “But I’m your idiot now.” Tara’s stomach churned in the most pleasurable way after hearing your words.

------------------

The rest of the route went by in a blink of an eye. Tara and you had talked most of it through, and you were thankful of her for distracting you from your own thoughts. The note rocked you to your core. There were only a few people who could have known that nickname, but you didn’t see any of them capable of killing someone, let alone mutilate them afterwards. The only one died a year ago. She died a year ago.

When your thoughts would start to eat you up again the car stopped. The cops got out and helped you two leave the vehicle as well. You entered the building and were met with the familiar sight of the white walls and crowded office. You couldn’t remember how many days you spent here nagging and annoying your uncle. Yet he wasn’t here anymore, and the thought made you feel alone. Scared. Overwhelmed. Screaming, shouting, begging for it to end…

As if she read your mind, Tara grabbed your hand and interlocked her fingers with you. You looked down at her and smiled, reassuringly squeezing her hand. The cops started leading you two to what you liked to call; ‘interrogation chamber’ in your youth. Whenever you saw the cops bringing in perps in handcuffs, you would imagine how scary it must be for them. You would chase yourself into a corner of your mind where everything was scary and dark. Where she was still free. Still alive. Your only lifebelt being your uncle, who never failed to help you out of there. Now, the room you were closing in on didn’t seem so bad. It felt safe. Funny how time changes perspectives.

“Y/N?” you heard a familiar voice behind you. Not believing your ears your span around, searching for the source. “Y/N! Hey! How are you? What the hell are you doing here?” The source turned out to be a young man, with red hair and sparkling green eyes. Just like your uncle.

“I could ask you the same thing V.”

“Not even a greeting for your most humble cousin? I must say you’ve cha-“ he got cut off when you hugged him so tightly Tara was worried you might brake some bones. “There she is…” he said, wrapping his own hand around you.

“What happened? I thought you are stationed in Washington!”

“I got transferred here upon my request. Being a legacy of pa helped.”

“Kayoko, you two know each other?” one of the officers asked that were escorting you.

“Not intentionally” Vasco smirked and pushed your shoulder a little. You flinched from the pain. His eyes narrowed and without asking pushed the fabric of your shirt to the side, revealing the bloody bandage that was wrapped around the stitched wound. “What happened?” his voice got serious in an instant.

You took a deep breath before answering. “Me and Tara had been attacked in my apartment.” His eyes widened, suddenly gripping your bicep. “It was Ghostface. Now I’m involved in the homicide of a homeless drunk that also attacked us a day before and gave me this” you held up your arm. The wound narrowed since yesterday, yet it still itched and hurt. “Speaking truly, I was the aggressor that time, but that’s unimportant now.” You almost whispered the last sentence. He huffed and shook his head slightly.

“Just my luck” he shook his head. “The first serious case I get, and my family’s involved.”

“You lead the case?”

“No, Wayne does. You know, father’s old partner.” You nodded, as you did, in fact remember the graying man. “I’m in his team and for once, he didn’t put me in the backline.”

“Wayne as in Wayne Bailey?” Tara interrupted.

“How do you know him?” Vasco asked back.

“He’s the father of her roommate.”

“Quinn or E… Oh wait, no. His son is studying at Princton. So, you are Quinn’s roommate huh?”

“I thought her brother died…” Tara said.

“He did. Sorry, he had two siblings. I thought you would know this.”

“No, she never mentioned two” you said as well.

“Sorry to interrupt Kayoko, but we all have our jobs to do” a officer said. “After picking up their statements, you can have them back.”

“Of course, Stan. Apologies” he said and held his hands up.

Before you were lead away, you hugged him again and decided to throw the big ball into the game. “There was a note for me, pinned to the corpse” you whispered in his ear.

“How do you know it was for you?”

“It was meant for Lolly.”

When you pulled away, you saw his struck state. It looked like he froze down, his eyes full of sorrow as he looked at you “I’ll get to work then” he said, threw you a weak smile, and squeezed your shoulder again, before turning around and walking towards his place.

-------------

You needed to wait a little for Bailey to arrive. He was at the scene and missed you there.

“Stan and Mitch are awfully efficient when they don’t need to be” he huffed as he greeted you warmly. He was just as bright and straight as he always used to, even if time had worn him out a little. With you, at least. Tara was a different world. You remembered how he first acted around you and found resemblance. They just needed to warm up to each other, you thought.

They didn’t. From the point he started picking up your statement, he gave her his coldest self. Sam got there in the middle of interrogation, and her being around didn’t help much either. She looked even more dishevelled than last time as she barged into the room, even though half the police force tried to deny her that. When Tara reassured them that she was with you two, they reluctantly let her stay.

You didn’t know whether Tara wanted to hide what you had from her, so you tried to keep the usual distance, but the young Carpenter was having none of it. Once she got a hold of your hand under the table, she wasn’t letting go. Sam clearly saw but didn’t say anything. The only reaction you saw from her, was the small, almost unnoticeable smile on her concerned face, which you took as a good sign.

You explained everything again to Bailey, this time a bit more calmly and provided more information. You described the attack, the phone call, leaving out some information about you and Tara again. Then came the nickname. The grey man tried to go into the depths, but you dodged every question as your father and uncle had thought you to. Noone besides our loved ones will know about this. The vow you made to them resounded in your head, and you never took yourself for a liar. Noone else needs to know. It just wasn’t necessary.

“Who could want to see you two dead?” he asked with a resigning voice, eyeing you and Tara.

“Cmon’ Bailey, you know me! I’m the most charming person in the world” you teased and leaned back, smirking.

“So, half the city. You?” she asked Tara.

Before answering she shook her head slightly. “Can’t think of anyone who’s still alive.”

“Yikes.” you and Bailey said in unison.

The door opened and Stan showed his head in the door. “FBI’s here, claiming jurisdiction.”

Bailey’s face contorted from confusion. “Where are they?”

He stood and left the room, you quickly following behind. No matter how much time you spent here, it could still surprise you. You have seen federal agents once or twice, but never when they claimed a case for themselves. You were interested, the Carpenter sisters following close behind you. Tara wouldn’t let go of your hand, gently squeezing it, so you couldn’t release it, which you wouldn’t, not even if the world was ending. Especially not if the world was ending.

Three doors later Stan opened a door, motioned inside. A woman stood from one of the chairs, blonde, painted shoulder length hair, combat boots and a black outfit with a black leather jacket. You couldn’t make out what they were talking about, but the woman showed her badge and Bailey clearly didn’t like her. A case was laid open on the table, your and Tara’s picture on top of it. The sisters were talking about something, but you didn’t listen, your eyes focusing on the photograph that was taken of the corpse. It looked weird. Not how it looked when you were there.

Your train of thoughts was disrupted by Sam, who just noticed who was inside. “Kirby?”

“Hey Sam” the blonde woman greeted her and squeezed herself past you and Bailey to hug her. “Tara, and you must be Y/N, right?”

“Your detective skills are impressive” you nodded.

“You are the FBI?” Sam asked.

“You guys know each other?” the graying man asked, after Kirby nodded.

“Yeah. We went to Woodsboro high together” the older Carpenter said. “She was a senior when I was a freshman.          “

“We share a certain history, yeah” Kirby agreed. “Look, I’m not trying to get into a jurisdictional pissing contest here, I just want to help” she had a sly smile plastered on her face. “I’ll show you mine” she said, still smiling. “Et cetera.”

You huffed at her words. This was one of the weakest jokes, you have heard today, yet it still made you smile. Kirby had this look of pure confidence and kindness, that made you calm. You looked down at Tara from the corner of your eye and saw her also hiding her grin with her left hand, the other one still holding onto yours.

Bailey scrunched his eyes, but gave in, sharing some information about your statement and about the attack. The woman nodded along, and once he was finished, spoke up. “I already knew about the circumstances of the attack. If we are to catch this maniac, we will have to work together.”

“Yeah, good luck with that!” Sam said, as her patience ran out. “We are getting out of town” to exercise her point, she grabbed Tara’s hand and started leaving the police station. Your heart clenched in a familiar uncomfortable way.

“No!” Tara pulled her hand back and stayed close by your side. “I’m not leaving her behind!” The pain eased a little at her words, yet your mind was screaming for her to leave.

“Also, I can’t let you do that” Bailey cut in. “I’m sorry, but your sister is a person of interest in a homicide. She can’t leave town until the matter is resolved.”

Sam looked at both in disbelief. At Tara because she wanted to stay in a place where a psycho was on the loose, hell bent on hurting her, and at Bailey because of how ridiculous his words have made her feel. There was a maniac on the loose, and they couldn’t leave. They couldn’t leave because of the people that should try to do everything in their might to keep them safe. It was laughable really. When she wanted to word the thoughts that were circling in her head, the lights shut out.

The whole building went dead silent. The only source of light, being the streetlamps outdoors. You felt Tara leaning into you, her heartbeat fastening against your chest. You tightened your grip on her hand, and blinked, so your eyes would adjust to the darkness quicker. There was a hint of smoke in the air, but there was no logical explanation for it. It also smelled like smoke.

A pained scream echoed through the room. The scream of man. After a moment it turned into a growl, becoming ever more silent as something blocked the way of the sound. You heard Bailey and Kirby take out their guns, cocking them, just as all the other cops in the building. You snapped your head in every direction, but you still couldn’t see clearly, only the figures of people. The smoke in the room only got thicker.

A way too familiar voice resounded across the place, filling you with fear. His voice. “Did you miss me, Lolly?”

Another fading scream filled the room, but this time two shots followed it right after. The sound was deafening, and your ears started ringing. You could hear distant orders being barked out even though it came from right next to you, the figures of the two law enforcers disappearing from before you. A million thoughts were blaring through your mind, only some of them useful. Before you could do anything, you felt someone grab your hand and pull you with. After a moment you realised it was Sam, and stopped struggling against her, following her lead. But then she stopped in her tracks.

“No escape for you here, dear.” Ghostface spoke again, from right before you. You looked over Sam and saw him already stabbing towards her. You tried to pull her backwards, but it was too late. The knife sliced into her flesh, a pained groan leaving her mouth as she stumbled back. As you were still pulling her, a cop got between you and him, raising his gun. Three shots were fired, two of them clearly hitting him, but it was as if he didn’t even notice. He lunged forward at his shooter, opening his throat and chest with two precise and fast attacks.

You span around and ran the other way, the Carpenters by your side. The smoke had now filled the entire place, vision impaired. It helped that you had the building memorised by heart, as you took turn after turn. Shots were being fired and the smell of blood mixed with the smell of smoke and gunpowder, creating a metallic, hardly breathable atmosphere.

Then you tripped in something. As you fell, you let go of Tara’s hand and when you looked up, you couldn’t see her no more. You could hear her screaming your name, but you couldn’t answer, the smoke filling your lungs. Then you looked down at what you tripped in. Or as it turned out, who. It was a uniformed cop’s body, struggling for air. He had a stabbed wound in his gorge. Your hands were dripping of his blood, half your clothes soaking in it too. You didn’t know a human could have so much blood in their body, but when you looked around, you saw one more, with also as precise cuts as all the other victims you witnessed. All of them were stabbed at vital organs, or from where they would die in a few seconds or minutes. Not a second wasted.

“Oh, poor Y/N” he said in a condescending voice. “This must be pretty traumatic for you. I almost feel bad.” A hand grabbed your hair and pulled you back by it. “Almost” he whispered in your ear. There was a voice behind the modulator, that was familiar. Your heart skipped a beat after realisation hit you. But that couldn’t be possible. It just couldn’t!

You slumped back to the ground when she suddenly let go of your hair. You looked back behind you, seeing her figure falling onto her back. Another woman stood above you, and you could take out Sam’s boots. She grabbed you, pulled you up and started running, not even waiting for you to be able to catch your balance, just pulled you after her. She barged through a door, that led you to the Northern stairs, where Tara was waiting, tears running down her cheek. She was coughing hard, trying to swallow air desperately, yet she couldn’t. You looked at Sam for a moment, and after you saw one of her hands was occupied with a gun, you picked up Tara in your hands and started running down the stairs, three steps a time.

The ground floor looked similar in its form, but there was no smoke here. Bodies were scattered around the place, some of them civilians, some of them cops. All of them dead. You traced over the room, searching for a specific table, and once you found it ran towards it, leaning Tara against it.

“Y/N what the hell are you doing?!” Sam was trying her best not to snap at you.

“Tara’s going to suffocate if we don’t do something” you answered, opening drawer after drawer to find the item you were looking for. “To our “luck”, Private Alice always holds an inhaler at her desk in case her asthma ever comes back.” Sam accepted this, and turned towards the places Ghostface could come after you.

You found it in the fourth drawer and immediately turned towards the younger Carpenter. You aided her to take it in her mouth and pressed down a few times, just to be sure. She looked at you gratefully after. Her coughing died down slowly, and you helped her up. That’s when you noticed that everything was quiet. No shooting, no footsteps above you, nothing. Was everybody dead?

As to answer that question, the door of the staircase opened, and a very dishevelled looking Kirby stumbled into the room, followed by Bailey and two other cops. You sighed in relief when you saw Vasco in their group. The greying man barked out some orders, and Vasco and two others walked over to you, surrounding the three of you, whilst he and the rest of the cops marched out. Kirby joined him, her gun also raised, eyeing every corner before she disappeared behind a wall.

“Vasco, what the hell is going on?” you asked, suddenly feeling very weak.

“He jumped out a window, after we surrounded him” he said, very quiet. Why was he so quiet?

Then he threw you a glance. The glance, turned into a full-blown stare, his face horrified. You saw his mouth opening, but no notes hit your ear. Your side throbbed of pain, and you looked over to see, why. When you saw the opening that had been carved into you, you did nothing. Nothing else than stare at it, whilst feeling your vision darkening, and getting weaker and weaker. The floor came quicker than you could realise, why it was even getting closer. Suddenly you felt the floor hit you with all it’s might before everything became dark.

Let The Light In |5|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter 5: Shit-faced

Summary: It's been weeks and Tara was still avoiding you, but that doesn't stop you from looking out for her

Warning(s): Swearing, smoking, mentions of underage drinking, intoxication & panic attack

Notes: I reaaally hope this suffices. I tried my best, I swear. I think this is the longest chap I've done for this series so far (5,162 words, usually it's right under 5k words) Shoutout to @iamnodens for giving me some inspiration. Sparked an idea for a plot-line I wanna pursue

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

Anika saw you check your phone for the millionth time that night. “Come on, this is supposed to be a movie night. Not ‘check your phone a million times’ night,” Anika spoke up. You faced your phone back down. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled. Anika looked over at you then back at the TV before speaking again. “Who has you so anxious?” She asked and you rolled your eyes. 

“No one,” you say in a dry tone before grabbing the popcorn bowl and shoving a handful in your mouth. Your roommate let out a doubtful hum before turning her attention back to the TV.

Your right leg began to bounce as your thoughts once again led you to an overthinking spiral. It didn’t take long for you to think of the worst. You didn’t want Tara to never talk to you again. As much as you hated to admit it; along the way you started to enjoy Tara’s company. 

There were times where she could brighten your mood when no one else could. Tara may not have known, but the weekend you were in Brooklyn you were having a panic attack when she messaged you.

Texting back and forth with Tara seemed to eventually calm you down. You would never forget that moment, and although the younger Carpenter had no idea how much she had helped you, you knew. 

“If you bounce your leg any harder you’ll put a hole through the floor,” Anika remarked, pulling you from your memories. “Sorry,” you muttered back.

“Don’t be…what’s got you like this huh?” You start to play with your fingers. You sighed, debating whether or not you wanted to open up to Anika. 

“It’s just that– girl from before still hasn’t talked to me and I guess you were right; it’s a hundred percent getting to me.” 

Anika raised her eyebrows at you before responding,“She really must be if you’re admitting you were wrong. Have you tried confronting her about it?” 

You let out a frustrated huff. “She always swerves away from me. I sent a text but I don’t wanna seem desperate.” You looked at Anika to see her giving you a deadpan look. “What?” You asked, feeling clueless.

She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose before answering. “Okay, listen up. I know you have never been a bright communicator, but come on. Only sending one text? At this point you might as well just corner her if you refuse to send her no more than that,” she chuckled dryly.

You sat there, genuinely considering that as an option. Anika watched as you thought about it and started to shake her head at you. “Y/N…no. I didn’t mean to literally corner her.”

“Fine.”

—

You patted your hands dry in the restaurant’s restroom. You looked in the mirror—making sure you were put together before walking out—but then suddenly saw a familiar face in your reflection. It was only for a moment but in that single moment you felt your breathing grow ragged, heart racing and stood frozen. You tightly gripped the counter, closing your eyes and murmuring to yourself. 

“He’s not here. He’s not here. He’s not here. It’s all in your head. It’s all in your hea—”

“Y/N?” You heard. You exhaled and turned to face the voice.

No, no, no, no…Why is she here?

“Tara.” You replied, you were on the brink of tears as you tried to control your breathing. She quickly noticed the state you were in and carefully walked up to you. You took one step back, moving away from her. She looked at you again before gently placing a hand on your bicep.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Tara asked you in a gentle voice.

“Fine.” You murmured before quickly walking out of the bathroom. You ignored the worried glances you received from Henry and Anika, walking outside and leaning against a pillar. 

You tried everything; you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, you counted, and even tried the three three three rule. But nothing was working. You felt your right hand creep up your chest as it subconsciously gripped it. Your knees felt weak, as if they would buckle from under you. 

You fumbled in your pocket for a cigarette and lighter. You held the smoked cigarette to your lips, breathing it in and out. Your free hand’s fingers anxiously tapped on your thigh as you smoked. You felt like the world would collapse from beneath you, nothing to catch or save you. You started going down another spiral when suddenly you heard someone. 

“Hey…” You looked to your left to see Tara once again. 

“I swear I didn’t know you were gonna be here. Sam and I just decided to eat out since it’s not everyday she gets off from both jobs.” Tara said, moving to lean beside you.

“That’s nice,” you replied, putting out your cigarette and throwing it.

“Yeah…it is.” Tara smiled to herself as she said that. “Are you doing a little better now?” She asked you with a light nudge to your shoulder as she looked up at you.

“I guess.” Was all you answered with. Tara slightly nodded, before looking back ahead. 

After a couple minutes of silence, you finally spoke up. “Why’ve you been ignoring me?” You asked without looking at her, your voice quiet. You looked down at your shoes, both hands in your pockets.

“I haven’t been…” Tara trailed off. She knew she was. She was fully aware of it. But, she wasn’t ready to tell you why.

“Yeah…okay,” you sighed, lifting yourself up from the pillar.

“See you around, Carpenter.” You made your way back into the restaurant. Tara stayed outside a little longer before going back to her own table.

You both glanced at each other from across the room while the other wasn’t looking. 

—

You sat on the random couch while wearing a grumpy expression. Henry had, once again, dragged you to another party. The place was too crowded, sweat was everywhere, the burning smell of the alcohol was stronger than usual—to you at least—and Henry had gone off to God knows where. You just wanted out of this frat house.

The only thing keeping you sane was the company of Anika and Mindy. You didn’t talk to Mindy much in high school but she seemed cool. Anika and her were discussing couples costumes for halloween when suddenly you heard your name.

“What do you think, Y/N?” Your roommate asked as she sat in her girlfriend's lap on the love seat beside you.  

“What do I think about what?”

“You think we could rock a zombie bride and groom for a couples costume this year?” Mindy asked for Anika.

“Yeah, you’d guys be awesome for that,” you answered in a monotone voice. You didn’t look at them as you spoke, staring off at a random spot in the room. Suddenly your eyes caught something that made your breath catch in your throat.

“Y/N? What’s the matter?” Anika asked. Mindy also furrowed her eyebrows at you, but then all their answers were answered when they followed your eye line.

There Chad was with his tongue down Tara’s throat.

There was no reason to have cared as much as you did. There was no reason the pain in your chest should be growing. There’s no reason for this to hit you as hard as it did. You and Tara weren’t dating, you didn’t like her—no, you didn’t. You couldn’t. You were just caught off guard. Yeah, that’s it. You never thought about Chad and Tara together so you’re just in some form of shock.

What about the chest pain? The feeling of your heart being ripped out–

Heartburn. 

It was just heartburn, that was all it was. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Suddenly you felt a hand touch your arm. You lightly flinch before looking to your left, seeing it was Anika. Why did they both look at you with such pity?

“Hey, how about we call it a night, yeah?” You nodded.

After Mindy and Anika kissed each other goodbye, you two started to make your way out before a thought told you to reach into your pocket. Empty.

“I think my phone slipped out of my pocket while I was sitting on the couch,” You told Anika and she waited in the car as you went inside to get it.

By the time you got back to the couch somebody was already sitting, and of course it had to be Tara. “Looking for this?” she smugly asked, pulling out your phone and showing it to you.

You let out a sigh of relief before trying to reach for your phone, but the minute you almost grab it, Tara pulls it back behind her back.

“Tara, not right now.” You really weren’t in the mood for this. 

You sighed as you saw multiple stains on her shirt. “Someone’s in a mood,” she remarked, still looking up at you with a smile you couldn’t quite read.

“I’m not—” you sighed again, “—you have stains all over your shirt by the way. You’re a complete mess right now,” you murmured the last part, sitting down next to her trying to reach for your phone behind her but she’s quick. She pulls away again without thinking before responding.

“You know you pronounce your R’s in a funny way? Like, you say stuff like shirts and shorts but when you say them they sound the exact same. And then it’s, like, which one is it?” Tara rambled on. 

You sat there, silently listening to every single word. You couldn’t help the slight smile that grazed your face. It was nice hearing her voice again after so long. 

“Then I remembered you’re from Brooklyn, and you know what that means?”

“No, tell me,” you said, wanting to hear her ramble for a little longer.

“Brooklyn accent. So, that’s why you do that cute thing with your R’s!” You suddenly felt heat rush to your cheeks. Cute? Tara had used you and cute in the same sentence. She is completely plastered. 

“Tara! Ethan and I are gonna play beer pong!” You both looked over to see Chad calling from the other side of the room. 

You looked back at Tara, “I should go. See you, princess.” You got up, but suddenly felt a hand gently grasp your wrist. You looked down at her as you stood. She opened her mouth for a couple seconds before shutting it.

“You probably need this,” Tara pulled out your phone and placed it in your hand for you. The amount of contact she was giving you caused a flutter in your chest. 

“I’m probably gonna head home,” she slurred. You bit the inside of your cheek as you grew concerned about her going home on her own in the state she was in.

“Mindy said you drove with Chad?” 

“Mm, yeah. He doesn’t mind me driving myself home though. He said he’d—” she hiccupped, “—get a ride with Ethan.”

“Well I do mind. You’re too drunk to drive Tara.” She just stared up at you as you spoke. “You can stay over,” you lightly sighed as you offered your hand to her.

Tara bit her lip as she continued to stare up at you, but after a beat of silence she took your hand—not without tripping, causing her to fall into your arms.

“You okay?” You asked in a soft voice, and she simply nodded her head as she continued to look at you.

Tara had so much to tell you, but she stopped herself before she could.

You both walked out to your car—Tara clinging on to your arm as she walked like she had two left feet. You never thought Tara Carpenter could be any more clumsy than she already was, but here you were. 

You opened the car door, “Sorry that it took so long.” 

“I see you didn’t just bring back your phone,” Anika remarked, not hiding her knowing look. You strapped Tara in the backseat, making sure she was comfortable, before going to the driver’s seat.

“She’s too drunk to be her own ride, so I offered,” you responded. You gave Tara one last glance from the rear view mirror—which didn’t go unnoticed by Anika—to see that Tara was already passed out. You started to pull out and made your way to your apartment. There wasn’t much talking on the ride over. The only sound coming from the car was the music, but even that was put at a low volume. You tried your best to avoid the holes so Tara could sleep fine. You cursed your government for not using your taxes to fill holes with more cement. 

By the time you got to your apartment Tara was still sound asleep. You told Anika she could get a head start and that you would catch up with her. After she left you got out of our seat and walked around your car to open the door to Tara’s seat. You placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Tara…we’re here,” you whispered in a soft tone. Tara only shuffled slightly but never opened her eyes. You lightly squeezed her shoulder, “Come on. We’re here…”

You slightly shook your head.

“...You’re so lucky I live on the second floor.” You scooped her up and she subconsciously nuzzled her head in the nook of your neck. You carried her up the apartment stairs, and once you got to the door you knocked with your head—since your hands were obviously full at the moment.

That night, you didn’t mind sleeping on the couch.

—

Tara woke up with a pounding headache, causing her to groan as she slowly sat up. She rubbed her eyes, yawning. Suddenly everything came crashing down on her like a tidal wave.

“Shit shit shit,” she looked around for her phone. She couldn’t believe how stupid she was. Sam was going to kill her for sure—if she was actually home? Yeah…she’s going to kill her for sure. 

It didn’t take long for her to realize where she was. “Fuck, not again,” she groaned into her hands. 

If Tara had a nickel for everytime she woke up in your bed she would have two nickels—which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice. Before she could retrace her steps there were two knocks on the door. 

“Come in,” She said and you opened the door slightly, peaking your head before fully coming inside. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I see you’ve, uh, woken up.” You awkwardly stood with your arms crossed.

“Yeah…”

Tara turned her head, closing her eyes and letting out an inaudible sigh before turning back to look at you. “Listen, I’m sorry this is, like, the second time. You shouldn’t have to take care of me while I’m shitfaced.”

You slightly pouted out your bottom lip, faintly shaking your head and waving her off. 

“No problem.”

After a moment you finally break the awkward silence, “Why do you do this?”

“What?”

“This? Go out to parties so often, and have drink after drink?” Tara furrowed her eyebrows at you, not understanding where you were going with this. 

“What do you mean by that?” She asked, feeling offended by the question. 

“I just mean, don’t you get tired of it?”

Tara let out a faint scoff, “I like my life, thank you very much.” She now sat up a little straighter as she looked at you from where you stood. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. Come on, Tara—you know that.” 

“No, I don’t actually,” Tara got up from your bed, making her way to the door. She reached for the handle but you blocked it.

“Stop it, Y/N.”

“No, you stop it. What’s your problem, Carpenter? You really think I wouldn’t notice you ignoring me?” 

Tara opened her mouth to speak but you quickly cut her off. “You even changed your seat in history. How is that nothing?” You hated how vulnerable you felt right now. The hurt was noticeable in your voice.

“I– I just need space…” Tara sighed, running her hands down her space.

“What—why? ...Did I do something?” You asked, feeling yourself grow smaller as she looked back at you. 

Tara saw you staring down at her like a lost puppy. She hated what that was doing to her. She hated how you were able to make her feel things so easily. 

“No! No, I just need space, okay? Not everything’s about you!” Her raised voice caused you to flinch and take a step back; Tara hated herself at that moment. 

“Okay,” you replied in a quiet voice. 

“Y/N I didn’t—”

“If you need anything, Anika’s up.” 

Before Tara could say anything, you were gone. 

—

You knew very little about the person who now sat where Tara previously did. Tara either paid her to switch or the woman really just didn’t mind. You haven’t introduced yourself to her yet.

You heard her name being called once; Charlotte. You were too stubborn to actually ask her for her name. It didn’t take long for Charlotte to pick up on your silence. Truth be told she noticed you in class before. So when Tara approached her about a seat change, she asked no further questions and agreed.

“Hey,” Charlotte finally spoke up one class. “I’m Charlotte, by the way.” You turned your head slightly to look at her. There was no denying her beauty. 

“Y/N,” you simply responded before turning back to your notes. Charlotte turned back to her own work while she mustered her next words. 

“So, you’re not much of a talker huh,” she nervously chuckled. You looked at her from the corner of your eye before averting your stare back to your notes. “I guess,” you murmured.

Throughout class you resisted looking back at Tara, and occasionally Charlotte would miss something so she would politely ask you for your notes, which you then would silently turn your papers for her to see.

You kept your head down and didn’t meet her gaze as you did this, but if you did you would have seen her warm smile; in a way you felt it.

After class you heard footsteps running up to you. You turned around to see Charlotte. “I just wanted to thank you for the notes,” she told you. 

You spared a faint smile before responding, “No problem.” You watched as she took out a little piece of paper and handed it to you. When you took it you could see numbers written on it. 

“I’d love to thank you over a cup of coffee or even dinner or something. That’s my number, so you can call or text whenever you want.” You lightly nodded at her as you looked at the paper.

“See you around, Y/N,” she smiled at you again before taking off. 

“What do we have here?” The voice causes you to jump a bit, before rolling your eyes when you see the culprit. 

“Geez, Anika. Quit sneakin’ up on my like that,” you sighed as you two started walking.

“Maybe if you were more self aware, you would notice your friend being right next to you,” Anika commented. 

“Whatever.”

“Anyways, who was that?”

“Just some chick from my history class,” you said in a nonchalant manner. 

“Does she happen to have your…interest?” She asked you with a quirked up eyebrow. 

You thought for a second before answering. “I guess.”

“ ‘I guess’? Gee. How descriptive.” Anika remarked sarcastically. You rolled your eyes at her, adjusting the strap of your bag.

“I don’t know, okay? I’m still figuring some shit out, but maybe I do.” You shrugged, you and Anika taking a turn.

“By ‘figuring shit out’ do you mean, Tara?” She asked knowingly. That made you do a double take at your roommate. 

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed dramatically. 

“You know I overheard that argument you two had, right?” 

“I don’t know exactly what you heard but it’s not what you think,” you sighed, eyes looking everywhere but Anika. You hated when she was right.

“Really? Cause’ it seems like she’s the girl that has you so worked up.”

“Stop it.” You said with annoyance in your tone, growing slightly flustered from being called out.

—

You sat at the seat across from Charlotte . You both eventually had decided to go out on Friday night for dinner. You figured it wouldn’t hurt to take up her offer. So, that’s where you were; sitting in a diner with her across from you. 

Your hands rested on your lap as you listened to her speak. She had cinnamon skin, gorgeous hair and dark brown eyes. You couldn’t help but admire dark brown eyes; they were so easy to drown in. 

“So, enough about me. What about you?” She suddenly asked.

“What about me?” You echoed, taking a sip of your milkshake.

“I want to get to know you. Right now you’re just the quiet girl who I sit next to in history, and cute at that,” she winked at you. 

You lightly blushed at the compliment before replying. “I don’t really know what to say. Mind giving me some starter questions?”

“Okay, you got any siblings?”

“Yup. Two brothers, Stephen and Oliver.”

“You like them?”

“Tolerate’ em.”

She let out a giggle before continuing. “Are you the oldest or youngest?”

“I’m in the middle, actually. Oliver’s the oldest and Stephen’s the youngest.” 

You soon found out she had two sisters and two brothers, both her parents were doctors, and her favorite color’s purple. As the night went on you two found out a little more about one another. It was nice just talking. You weren’t sure if this was a date but the thought hung around in your head.

Would it be so bad if it was?

You walked the city’s streets with Charlotte, your jacket hung from your arm as she hugged her own closely. 

“This was really nice, I’d love to do it again sometime,” She spoke up.

You looked at her then back at the ground, a small smile starting to graze your face. 

“Yeah…that’d be nice,” You said genuinely, before she stopped at an apartment building. 

“Well, this is me.”

“I’ll see you around?”

“Of course,” she smiled at you, placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” she said before leaving. 

You stood there, slightly stunned from the kiss. It was no secret that it had been a while since you’ve been in a genuine relationship. 

Maybe—just maybe, Charlotte could be the one to change that. 

—

The next day you went to work your shift. You passed the time like you usually did; if you weren’t serving customers you had music in your ears and cleaning counters that you’ve already wiped down a hundred times before that same day.

The bell above the door rings, but you don’t look up as you say, “Welcome to The Coffee Club.” Your voice was monotone. 

The person stopped in their tracks as soon as they saw you. It wasn’t until they were shoved to the counter by someone beside them that you looked up. 

You opened your mouth as you lifted your head, but quickly shut it as soon you saw the person.

“Oh. It’s you.” Your voice wasn’t laced with bitterness or rudeness, just a slight shock from seeing her here. If your voice was not a give away of that then your expression definitely was. Your eyes were widened a bit, your eyebrows were raised and you almost looked…flushed? 

“Uh, what can I get you?” You asked, clearing your throat and trying to sound unfazed by her presence.

“Um, just a…” Tara trailed off as she suddenly forgot what she came here for. Mindy looked between you two.

“Hot chocolate?” You finished for Tara. All Tara could do was nod at you. 

“And I’ll have a hot coffee; milk and sugar please,” Mindy spoke up, breaking whatever staring contest you and Tara had going on.

“I’ll, uh, get on that right now.” You put your pen behind your ear. Tara and Mindy sat at a table nearby as you prepared their orders. 

“What was that?” 

Tara groaned at her friend, holding her face with her hands. “I don’t know. I had completely forgotten she works here most days,” she answered, her voice coming out slightly muffled due to her hand still covering her face. 

“You’re still giving her the silent treatment, aren’t you?” Mindy asked even though she already knew the answer.

“Well, I uh…kind of made it worse…”

“How?” Mindy asked, slightly dragging out the H while furrowing her eyebrows.

“We had a bit of an argument last week,” Tara answered, the memories of that morning painfully flashing through her mind.

“About what?”

“I snapped at her over something really stupid, and—God I can’t stop thinking about her face when I did that.” Tara let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding in. 

“By snapped, what do you mean, like, you yelled at her or something?” Tara sighed and nodded, looking away—feeling ashamed of herself.

“I think you two just need to talk, for real this time.” 

“I don’t want to—” She inhaled, looking down at her hands. 

“Don’t want to what?”

“Hurt her again…” Tara answered in a quiet voice. 

“Tar, listen to me, you’re one of the best people I know, and you can be gentle when you want to be. Just be you,” Mindy told her honestly.

“Maybe when you two finally make up you can make that dream you had a reality and make out already—”

“Mindy!”

Before Tara could say anything else, you walked up to the table with their drinks.

“One hot coffee with milk and sugar, and a hot chocolate,” you repeated their order. Mindy said thank you, and so did Tara—not without Mindy kicking her under the table to do so—before taking a sip of the steaming hot drink.

The mug covered her eye line, so she didn’t see you sneak a Strawberry donut with sprinkles—or as she likes to call it, a Homer Simpson donut—in front of her. By the time she did notice you were already gone.

You had a habit of disappearing without saying goodbye. 

When Mindy and Tara finished, they made their way back to the apartment. They walked into the apartment to find Chad and Ethan playing Resident Evil four. 

“You’re still playing this game?” Tara inquired, pulling off her jacket and throwing it somewhere. Mindy let out a slight chuckle before making her way to the kitchen.

“All. Fucking. Day.” Sam replied, coming into the living room. 

“I don’t blame them. Have you seen Ada?”

“They haven’t gotten up in seven hours.”

“I got it,” was all Tara said, before walking away.

Five seconds later she came back with a spray bottle.

—

The doorbell rings, interrupting you mid sentence as you were on the phone with Anika. 

“Hey, I gotta go. Talk to ya later?” You said your goodbyes to each other before walking up to the door. You weren’t sure who could be visiting but whoever it was was growing impatient. 

“Alright, alright! I’m coming,” you called out, walking up to the door. 

You finally unlocked and opened it to—unexpectedly—Tara. This took you by surprise which was evident from your expression. There wasn’t much to go off from but Tara’s known you long enough to read even your littlest details. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.” There was a beat of awkward silence before Tara finally spoke up again.

“Can I come in? I need to talk to you,” she told you. You responded by opening the door wider, letting her inside the apartment. 

Her eyes wandered around the room before landing them back on you. You quickly averted your gaze, realizing you have been staring at the younger Carpenter a little too long. 

“Been a while since I’ve been here,” Tara said, sitting down on the couch.

You let out a dry chuckle before responding. “You’re telling me…” 

Tara noticed you were still standing, choosing to lean against the wall rather than sit near her. Just then, she remembered why she came here.

“So, what do you want?” You asked unkindly. 

Tara took a second to muster what she wanted to say. She didn’t want to mess this up. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing this time. 

She didn’t want to hurt you again.

“I’m sorry.” 

“What?” You raised an eyebrow, not expecting an apology. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you, and I’m sorry for blatantly avoiding you for the past few weeks,” she said in one breath. 

“Wait—I wasn’t expecting an apology. I thought you were gonna yell at me again or something,” you poorly joked with a dry chuckle. 

“That wasn’t my best moment,” she said with shame in her voice. She could never forget your face that morning or how you backed away from her as if she would hurt you. 

You looked down at your shoes, considering Tara’s words. You should get your revenge—make her pay for the past few weeks. But instead you decided against it, for whatever reason, you decided against it. Maybe it was her voice as she spoke, maybe it was the bags under her eyes, or maybe it was just simply her. Whatever it was, it caused you to let her off easy.

“I’ll accept your apology on one condition.”

“Anything,” Tara replied, a little too quickly. 

“Stop avoiding me,” you said in a softer voice, and you slowly began to take the seat beside her. 

“Deal,” Tara promised, looking at you.

“Pinky swear?” You held up your pinky, for her take.

Tara couldn’t help the smile that grew as she took your pink in hers. 

“Pinky swear.” 

“Now that you’re not avoiding me anymore, you wanna go over last class’s notes?” Already moving on as if she hadn’t been giving her the silent treatment for the past for weeks, and you weren’t still curious as to why.

Your pinkies unlocked, Tara missing the contact.

“Well, you know how much I looove doing that,” Tara sarcastically answered. 

“Ha. Ha.” You got up from the couch, “I’m gonna go get my binder. Give me like two seconds.” You said before rushing away to your room like a child who was having a playdate, rushing off to grab a toy for you and your friend to play with. 

Tara couldn’t stop smiling to herself at the sight of you. It had been far too long since she’s seen you one on one like this. She hated to admit it but she missed you more than she realized. Now that she was thinking about it, she missed a lot of things about you; your smile, your voice, your humor, how you lit up a room with just your presence, even that fuzzy feeling you gave her.

Oh.

Oh, Mindy was right. Tara had somehow found herself crushing on you.

“Fuck.”

-----------

A/N: Platonic!Chara>>> (dw gonna do that justice later)

I wonder who R saw in the mirror...

Taglist: @t-wylia @lesbianpepsi @jennasfav @alyciaddict @justafoolinlove @steffido1993 @niqmandu @severelyuniquereview @darklron @ravenousinferno @smut-religiously777 @beautifulmongerbanditsalad @vanatalye @alexkolax @andsoigotabutterfly

movie night viii

Summary: Tara finally starts to believe that it's possible to heal and move on.

Word Count: 6k Warnings: swearing, injury mention, Scream typical violence, scars, trauma Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (pt.i) (pt.ii) (pt.iii) (pt.iv) (pt.v) (pt.vi) (pt.vii) (pt.viii)

It had become apparent to Tara over the past two months that you were impossible to deal with.

She knew she couldn’t be too frustrated with you. After all, your nonstop talking had been put to a halt by whatever injuries had been inflicted upon you. The frustration was evident in your eyes when you would try to write down a response to something before the topic changed. More often than not, you never got a word in.

And, Tara would admit, she felt for you. Not only had your regular life been turned upside down because you couldn’t bicker back and forth with your family, but now? Now you had to deal with the fallout of Ghostface. A fallout that not even she and Sam had gotten over, and their initial attack was over a year ago. She distinctly remembered her own feelings immediately after, and now you had to deal with those feelings without even being able to tell anyone about it.

You tried. God, Tara knew you tried. You would do your best to write how you felt, or even draw a picture, little kid style. But it never worked, and you got more frustrated than she did about the whole thing. You would get irritated and storm off, locking yourself in the bathroom for hours at a time on bad days.

There were days Tara tried to help you act like everything was normal. Yes, you still had wounds you were recovering from, but she tried to act like nothing had happened. Putting on your favourite movies, playing your favourite scores when cooking, whatever she could think of. During late nights of studying or working, she would make sure to leave plenty of kisses on your cheek, the top of your head, your hands, everywhere she could reach.

She didn’t know what you two were exactly, but she tried.

It didn’t stop you from hiding away from her. Mercy had told her to help you change your bandages, especially before you had the stitches taken out. Yet every time she offered, you quickly shut yourself away and didn’t come back until everything had already been cleaned and changed. It made her feel like you didn’t want her around, like you didn’t want her help. Tara knew that wasn’t the case, but it very much felt like it.

The only thing you let her help with was cleaning all the damage from the gunshot. The gunshot that Gale still couldn’t talk about, and that you pretended didn’t exist. Hell, if Tara and Sam didn’t practically force you to let them take care of it, you would’ve let it fester. All in all, Tara felt utterly and completely useless.

“Give ‘em time,” Martha had said one night while you were all at your parents’ house for dinner. “They’re a bit too proud to accept help.”

And she was right. You didn’t ask for help. Not even when you started dragging Tara with you to your last appointment with Mercy. She knew it was about time for you to remove the bandages once and for all, but after how you had hidden from her? Well, even Sam agreed it was fair to assume you wouldn’t be bringing company. But then you had practically refused to let go of her hand the entire trip, and Tara was more than happy to stay.

“You sure you want Pipsqueak here?” Mercy asked. The wink eased the slight annoyance bubbling in Tara’s chest.

Your eyes darted to the side before you nodded slowly.

“Then here we go,” Mercy said.

Tara tried not to stare, she really did. After all this time, she knew it would be a sensitive topic for a while. But she hadn’t seen your smile in weeks. She hadn’t been able to see your crooked, toothy grin after a battle of wits with your family. There had been no closed-mouth smile when your favourite movie score surged through the speakers.

You hadn’t even been able to kiss her.

Okay, that last reason was a little selfish, but Tara didn’t really care. She had been through hell and back not once, but twice. Her first real girlfriend had tried to kill her before then attempting to kill her sister and Sidney fucking Prescott. If anyone deserved to be a little selfish, it was her.

At least that’s what she told herself as she tried to keep her eyes off of the slightest glimpse of scar tissue. Don’t humiliate them, she thought to herself as she waited patiently - or not so patiently - for you to turn around. The small smile on Mercy’s face when she tossed the bandages was comforting.

“See?” Mercy said. “Still as fetching as ever.”

Tara didn’t have to see your face to know the exact look you were giving Mercy. Judging by the set of your shoulders, you were giving her your best, most unimpressed look that you could muster. Complete with a downturn of your mouth and a single raised brow that was convincing enough to get even Sam to hush at least once.

“Don’t give me that look,” Mercy said, confirming what Tara already knew, “I’m sure your little girlfriend would agree too.”

Now that. That had your entire body stiffening almost painfully. There was an instant, immediate tension in your back. Tara knew if she simply walked forward and touched you, there would be nothing but the hard surface of muscles that wouldn’t, or couldn’t, react.

Would you ever be okay with her seeing you again? She hoped this was temporary but… what if it wasn’t? What if you realised all of this was too much and she wasn’t worth it? Tara had only truly had you for a short time, she couldn’t lose you to Ghostface. He had taken too much from her already.

“I’ll leave you two for a bit while I finish your paperwork,” Mercy said with a smile that was directed at Tara.

She left the room swiftly, leaving you and Tara alone. It wasn’t the first time she had been left alone with you since the incident. But it was the first time she had been left alone with you without the bandages as a barrier. She wanted to see you, to see what carnage you had endured for the simple sake of keeping people safe. Did you know that just the fact you had done all of this for everyone else made her feel so uncomfortably warm that she wanted to scream just to feel something different?

“Do they hurt?” Tara asked after a little too much awkward silence. Her footsteps were the only thing echoing through the room as she stepped closer. Hopefully not too close to make you uncomfortable.

She heard your squeaky attempt at speaking. In any other situation, she would have laughed first. Teased you, “just now going through puberty?” Part of her wished she could tease you about it; at least that would mean you were okay and back to normal. You cleared your throat.

“Not much.” 

The first words Tara had heard you say since she had bid you goodbye outside the abandoned movie theatre. Your voice was weak, croaky, almost even painful sounding. But it was you, and the fluttering in Tara’s chest had her trying to catch her breath.

Just her luck, she had left her inhaler at your apartment.

“What are you thinking?” Tara asked when you stayed silent and still didn’t turn around.

“I think,” she heard you exhale. “I think I’m nervous.”

Nervous. A feeling Tara knew all too well even if she managed to hide it. It wasn’t something one could just look past, not when the underlying cause was Ghostface. What would other people think? Would they look at you and see nothing more than scars and trauma? It sat in the pit of your stomach, festering until you wanted nothing more than to crawl into a ball as the world passed you by.

But it was also a feeling that she had managed to keep under control when you were around. Even before Ghostface. She would never have admitted it, of course, but you always made her forget, even momentarily, about all the scars, and trauma, and insecurities left behind. You had made her feel like just a normal kid again.

Wait. That gave her an idea.

“Remember that first date in my apartment?” She asked, stepping a little closer. Not in front of you, not yet, but behind you so she could brush her fingers against the back of your arm.

You shivered.

“When Sam walked in on us?” You asked. It almost sounded like you were smiling.

“No,” Tara said with a huff, “when you cooked and pretended to watch Pearl with me.”

“Oh.” You nodded your head slowly. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Remember what you said to me?” She asked. She inched closer and slid her hand up, resting both on your neck as gently as she could. “On the couch?”

You sighed heavily. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“Do you trust me?” 

There was a moment of hesitation, and Tara’s mind started running through every possible way to backtrack and act like this hadn’t even happened. But then you nodded slowly, once. It was like all the pressure around her heart lessened and she could breathe, at least for the moment.

“Then close your eyes.”

Tara couldn’t see your face from her current position, but she gave you more than enough time to close your eyes. Only when your shoulders relaxed under her hands did she try to shake the thoughts out of her head and maneuver herself until she was standing in front of you.

She didn’t know what she had been expecting. Maybe some deep, horrific, dark scarring that covered your entire face. For all she knew, maybe you didn’t even have a bottom jaw anymore. Each thought that crossed her mind was worse than the last. What she saw, the fresh scars stretching from the corners of your mouth to the middle of your cheeks? It wasn’t as gruesome as she was expecting.

That didn’t mean her heart didn’t break inside her chest at the sight of the still-irritated skin. Underneath her fingers, your pulse raced; she understood that too. Slowly, gently, she let her hands move up your neck, feeling every inch of skin she could. If she really focused, she could almost feel your trembling. Her hands stopped their short journey when they cupped your jaws, holding you carefully even though she was still worried you would break.

How could she possibly convince you that the scars changed nothing about how she felt? You were still hers. Someone she would trust with her life. That she had trusted with her life. How she admired you for staying with her even through the literal threat of death? That she was in- that she admired you so?

There was only one thing that she could think of that would possibly convey everything she was feeling. Tara exhaled slowly before she leaned forward and ghosted her lips over yours. You stiffened under her hands, but she didn’t move. She wanted so desperately to kiss you until you couldn’t think, but you had to make the final move.

You exhaled sharply through your nose. It tickled her cheek. But then you relaxed, and your hands grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer until you could return the kiss. Genuine, almost hungry, like you were letting out all the pent up emotions from the past six weeks. Like you were trying to convey everything you hadn’t been able to say.

“Don’t fuck in my office,” Mercy said, appearing almost out of nowhere.

Tara jumped, but your grip on her waist stayed firm. She quickly hid her head in the crook of your neck when you turned to face Mercy to do… well, honestly, you probably flipped her off. If Tara knew anything about you, it was that you would jump at any opportunity to harass your siblings, and now? Oh, now you had free reign again.

“Told you she’d still like you,” she heard Mercy said.

You simply pulled Tara closer.

—---

“What happened to your back?” Tara asked.

You froze with your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth. There was a single speck of toothpaste on the corner of your mouth, and she wanted to reach forward and brush it away, but she knew the scars were still sensitive. Thankfully, you did it yourself and licked it off. Which then left more toothpaste, but she wasn’t going to mention it.

“You said only girlfriends got to know that information,” she continued, “and I’m very much a girlfriend now.”

“Are you?” You asked. That stupid smile gave you away, but she made sure to elbow you in the side for extra measure.

“Your side bitches don’t count,” Tara said. “They’re not girlfriends.”

“I can barely keep up with you,” you chuckled, “how am I supposed to keep up with multiple?”

“We’re getting nowhere,” she mumbled before continuing to brush her teeth.

Your body shook with silent laughter, but you otherwise stayed silent. It was a peaceful evening routine that you both knew not to interrupt. Tara did everything she needed to, you almost did more than her, and it was nice. Comforting, even. You both moved around the small bathroom in sync, never getting in the other’s way. Something that, surprisingly, hadn’t taken long to achieve.

But the question kept nagging her.

“Tell me what happened to your back,” Tara demanded again even as she crawled into bed beside you.

You lifted your book just high enough for her to wrap an arm around your waist, being careful not to jostle you too much. As much as you claimed the mostly-healed injuries didn’t hurt, she knew better. Especially when you flinched when she got too close to the scars.

“You really wanna know?” You asked without taking your eyes off the page.

“No, I’m asking because it’s funny,” Tara said with a huff. “Yes I want to know.”

“You’re so aggressive,” you said. Tara wasn’t looking up at you either, but she heard you putting the book down. “It’s not even that exciting.”

“I don’t care,” she said, shaking her head. “I just want to know now.”

“It was just a meet-up gone bad,” you said. Your hand rested on top of hers; it was warm. “I followed Martha to meet a client who turned out to be a narc.”

“And you got shot,” Tara mumbled to herself.

“I’ll admit,” you continued, “I don’t think he meant to actually hit me.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’d be committing career suicide,” you chuckled. “No one survives shooting a 10 year old.”

Tara didn’t find it as funny. In fact, she didn’t find it funny at all. You were a child; hadn’t even hit puberty yet. And you had already been making runs with your family? She knew your family, there was no way in hell they had known you were following. They weren’t stupid, they took everyone’s safety seriously. If Martha had known you were following, she wouldn’t have continued.

You were young, you could have died. Did you ever stop to think about that on those nights when you were uncharacteristically quiet? Did it ever haunt you that just one wrong decision, one case of curiosity had nearly gotten you killed? Because it would haunt her. It would haunt her until the day she died that she could have missed out on having you around, simply because you had been curious.

“It doesn’t hurt,” you said as you pulled her closer into your side.

It didn’t matter. The scar hurting now didn’t matter because it had happened anyway. You had gotten hurt anyway. She could feel you moving with each breath, but you almost hadn’t had that. You were alive now but what if?

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” you said softly. She felt you kiss her forehead and closed her eyes. “I promise.”

That was a rather bold promise to make. Especially because she wouldn’t let you go anywhere even if you wanted to. You were hers, and she was yours, and nothing was ever going to take that away from her. Not again.

—---

“They got blood on my new shirt,” you whined for what was probably the 10th time since you had started the walk from your apartment to Sam’s.

“I told you not to wear it to work,” Tara said even as she smiled at your ridiculousness.

She knew you had known better, because she had gotten you the shirt. A fresh, pastel pink button up that looked rather stunning on you. But you had decided to wear it to work because “I don’t want to come home and change,” and what happened? Dicky got you into a scrap and now you had blood on the cuffs.

“It was Dicky’s fault,” you mumbled. “I had it handled before he butted in.”

“I’m sure you did,” Tara said, reaching over to grab your hand in a half-hearted attempt to stop you from fidgeting with the cuff of your left sleeve.

The rest of the walk was spent in a comfortable silence. You kept squeezing her hand, pulling her this way and that to keep her out of the way of most pedestrians. Granted, it helped that everyone gave you both a wide berth; your scary dog privileges had increased tenfold thanks to the scars. At least it gave you a bit more confidence in them.

“So,” you said as you knocked on Sam’s door three times. Always three. “Who is this new boo?”

“Someone from back home,” Tara said with a shrug. “I think they went to school together?”

“Sounds suspicious,” you said with a frown and your arms crossed over your chest. “Sure they can be trusted?”

“Without a doubt,” Tara said.

You hummed in reply before the door opened. Sam gave you the most polite smile she could muster before pulling Tara into a hug. If she heard your grumbling complaint, she didn’t say anything. But that was okay, because Tara got a little tighter squeeze before she backed away.

“Give us one second,” Sam said.

“We’re gonna be late,” you called through the door that Sam had left open. “If Ma interrogates us, I’m throwing you under the-,” you froze when they both came back. “-hey!”

You pointed directly at Kirby, brows furrowed and your mouth practically hanging open. Tara couldn’t tell if you were surprised, angry, excited, anything. She just knew you were feeling something. At least until Kirby smirked at you as she pulled her jacket on, and your expression turned into a pure frown.

“The hell are you doin’ here?” You asked, your accent coming out in earnest. “You can’t come.”

“Yes she can,” Sam said as she ushered everyone out of the apartment and locked the door. “You already said we’re late.”

“How you doin’, Vitale?” Kirby asked.

“You better put that badge away, Reed,” you said. Tara felt your hand grab hers and give it three squeezes. “This is a family dinner.”

“This is pleasure, not business,” Kirby said as she similarly took hold of Sam’s hand. “If you ignore the badge, I’ll ignore the blood on your sleeve.”

“I really liked this shirt…”

Tara tried not to laugh as you looked down at your sleeve, that frustration instantly transforming into upset. You chewed on your bottom lip until you were all back on the street. But you regained your composure quickly and pulled Tara forward until you could lead the way.

Everyone was, quite frankly, glad that you were leading the way. Sure, Tara and Sam had been to your family’s house a few times, but that didn’t mean they could tell anyone how to get there. Which was probably due to the fact that you took them in a different direction every. Single. Time.

“You are a guest,” you said when you finally marched up the steps of an indiscriminate brownstone. “Everything said in this house is sacred.”

“I’m not here to learn your sketchy family secrets,” Kirby huffed. “It’s a safe zone.”

“Damn right it is,” you said definitively.

But you continued to stand there, scuffing your shoes against the ground. There was something else you wanted to say, Tara could feel it in the slight trembling of your hand in hers. You were turning clammy and your tongue impulsively licked out to the corners of your mouth. A habit you had picked up on once the bandages were off for good.

“Thank you,” you said softly, “for coming with Sam.”

Tara’s head tilted slightly. That was rather big of you. Not that you hated Sam, quite the opposite actually. But you both had this predestined sibling feud going on that neither one of you was willing to budge on. And now you were being nice? To Sam’s girlfriend, of all people?

“Thank you for having me,” Kirby said with a kind smile that you made a point to reciprocate.

“If any of you mention that again, I’m killing someone,” you said quickly before turning around to open the door.

That was much more like it.

The house was pandemonium, as it always was. Kirby seemed hesitant, but everyone else acted like they practically owned the place. Thankfully, Sam was wise enough to keep hold of Kirby’s hand and guide her around the house to find Ma and Pop. You, on the other hand, pulled Tara with you to the kitchen where Martha and Mercy were cooking.

“Thought you’d never get here,” Mercy called out. “Hey, T.” A smile in Tara’s direction.

“Did you know Sam’s dating a fed?” You asked immediately, letting go of Tara’s hand to start helping. “She could do so much better.”

“You know, Sam said the same thing when I brought you home,” Tara teased.

"Us too,” Martha said. She looked so much happier now that she was no longer pregnant. Tara couldn’t really blame her.

“You love me,” you said with a smile before planting a quick kiss on Martha’s cheek.

“More and more each day,” Mercy said.

Tara enjoyed spending time with your family. She loved the chaos that came with it, even as she listened to the children screaming and running around upstairs. You all gave each other hell for every little thing, digging into the little wounds that you all left open for the intent of digging. Your brothers were the worst offenders, and you gave it just as ruthlessly.

But she couldn’t deny, it was nice to hear them remind you that you were important. Their tones had changed quickly after the whole Ghostface incident last year. They had tried to tease, to keep up the image. All it took was one poorly timed joke for you to practically explode, practically devolving into tears.

Now, they made sure to remind you how much they cared for you. They would still tease, sure, and they still took it a bit too far at times. Tara couldn’t complain, you started it just as often as they did. But no one could deny that you just seemed all the happier when you were occasionally reminded of the fact that yes, they loved you. Yes, they had played it off well, but they had nearly lost their minds when you had been hospitalised.

“You two go set the table,” Martha said, pulling Tara out of her thoughts and back to the present.

"Come on," you said softly. You handed her half the plates before walking past her. And of course, as usual, you kissed the top of her head on the way.

Tara would be the first to admit she hadn't given you a proper chance in the beginning. Yes she had her reasons, and no she wouldn't go back on them. Even now, the aftermath of Amber would have her waking in a cold sweat, pushing you away in case it happened again. She couldn't be hurt like that if she kept you at arm's length. It was something she was working on with her therapist.

But now? Now that she had given you a proper chance to show her that you were both more than just each other's drunken hookup? You were extremely physical. Not inappropriately so, but always holding her hand, or touching her back, or sitting so close your thigh pressed against hers. You talked a lot of shit, but you showed your affection through touch.

And Tara? Oh, how she lo- adored you for it. Every time she was stuck in her darkest thoughts, with her biggest fears, all it took was your touch to bring her back to the surface. To know that she wasn't alone, and you weren't going to leave. All her fears and worries and insecurities were nothing you weren't willing to help with. You showed her what Amber never could.

You truly cared for her.

“Hey T, I think your chair’s over there,” Joel said with a pointed finger. Tara followed until she saw exactly where he was pointing.

“You’re a dick,” she said as she did her best to shove him aside.

“The kid’s table is perfect!” He called out. “It’s your size!”

“Yeah, come on, Auntie Tara!” More than one kid cheered. 

Tara would be honest, she didn’t even know which one it was, she was still learning everyone’s names. All she knew was that there were five kids, one of which was too young to talk. Three spouses that she was friendly with, but didn’t talk to. Except for Linda, who always kept her updated on if you had been into the police station again or not. You always let her know, of course, but it was nice to hear someone else say you were safe.

Slowly, and with no one stopping their conversations, everyone sat down at either of the two tables. She made sure to smile and wave at Chad, Anika, and Mindy, who were thankfully being watched after by Gale. You frowned when Gale sat as far away from you as possible. Gently, Tara placed her hand on your thigh and gave it a comforting squeeze.

She didn’t even try to keep track of all the conversations going on around her. The kids were, thankfully, too busy eating, but everyone else continued. You managed to hit up a conversation with everyone at the table, sometimes even yelling to the other table to include them too. Hell, at one point, you even struck up conversation with Kirby, who was sitting directly across from you.

Even though you had made it a point to harass Kirby, Tara could still see the slightest upward tilt of the corner of your mouth. Most had admitted - without you around, of course - that they couldn’t detect your teasing as accurately anymore thanks to the scars. They gave you a perpetual smirk or smile that was hard to look past. But she could tell.

And you were finding clear joy in teasing Kirby.

Tara had to look away to stop herself from laughing with you. She looked down at her plate and pushed a few things aside; as delicious as it was, she wasn’t exactly in the mood. Something warm brushed against her knee, but she settled quickly when she realised it was just your hand. Oh, the embarrassing comfort you could give her with a simple touch.

“Anyone ever call you Joker?” Kirby asked.

Oh no.

“Not twice,” you said with a raised brow as you took another bite of your dinner.

“Only to scare the kids,” Dicky chimed in with a full mouth.

“Or threats,” Alfie mumbled with a nod without looking up.

“How’d you get them?” Kirby continued. “Deal gone bad?”

The few of you at the table slowed down, heads turning slowly to look at Pop. He was sitting in his usual spot, with the usual cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth. The look he gave Kirby was scrutinising and, even though it wasn’t directed at her, even Tara felt herself shrink under his gaze. You squeezed her knee again, and she quickly reached down to grab your hand.

“Are you asking as a fed?” Pop asked slowly. “Or family?”

“You’re Sam’s family,” Kirby answered without hesitation. “Which makes you my family.”

“That’s so gay,” you mumbled. That stupid, endearing smile was back and you didn’t even try to hide it. Tara did her best to kick you under the table, but you just smiled even bigger.

Pop nodded slowly before raising his brows at you and gesturing toward Kirby with his head. You cleared your throat and sat a little straighter in your chair. With a roll of your shoulders, you looked back at Kirby.

“It was Ghostface,” you said with a shrug that tried a little too hard to be casual.

“What?” Kirby asked, her head quickly turning to look at Sam.

“Last year?” You continued. “Surely you knew.”

“You kept that from me?” Kirby asked.

“Oops,” Dicky said before trying to choke down his laughter. Which he failed miserably at.

“I wanted to leave it behind,” Sam tried to explain.

“You are in so much trouble,” you mumbled.

“I’m guessing you caught him?” Kirby asked, slowly turning to look back at you.

“Caught him?” You asked. Underneath her fingers, Tara felt your thigh tense up.

“We don’t catch criminals,” Alfie said.

“Plata o plomo,” Dicky said.

“Okay, Escobar, calm down.” If there was one thing Tara appreciated, it was your insistence on turning things into jokes even after the incident. “We killed the sons of bitches.”

“You shot them really quickly,” Sam said.

A question popped into Tara’s head as the entire scene replayed through her mind. She had done her best to act like it hadn’t happened - outside of therapy, at least - but Sam brought up a good point. You all had shot them almost immediately. That wasn’t how it usually went.

“Why did you shoot them so fast?” Tara asked.

You inhaled as if you were going to answer, but quickly shut your mouth and looked back down at your plate. She squeezed your knee lightly before your leg started to bounce. It was a nervous habit that you rarely displayed, at least out in public. Usually you kept it reserved for the apartment where no one could see the internal turmoil you so desperately wished to hide.

“Your little “movie algorithm” says to hear ‘em out, scuffle, and win, right?” Alfie asked.

Sam, Tara, and Kirby nodded slowly in response.

“This ain’t a movie,” Dicky said.

“Because the movies don’t matter,” you said.

Kirby pointed in your direction. “No they don’t.”

Your leg slowed its bouncing before coming to a restful stop as conversation turned back to normal. The frown that had attempted to make an appearance turned back into a hesitant smile as everyone started to laugh and talk and scream once again. And the entire time, Tara could do nothing but look at you with only a single thought in her mind.

—---

The sounds of your movie came through the shitty little speakers you had hooked up to your TV. Martha had brought the kids over so she could do some work, and you had agreed in an instant. Without consulting Tara, who had planned on having a wonderfully exciting evening in.

She shouldn’t have even been surprised, being interrupted was basically foreplay for you both at that point.

“Why is Auntie Tara so grumpy?” The oldest asked. Which in turn made Tara even more grumpy. She was starting to hate these kids.

“Because she didn’t get what she wanted,” you said with a poorly concealed smile. “So now she’s upset.”

“Do you need a hug?” The middle one asked.

She knew she had to be nice to the kids, she knew she did. But she very kindly wanted to tell those kids to fuck off. What she needed was to resume your previous activities and to have your hands on her skin. She needed a kiss and a genuine fuck.

But no, that wasn’t allowed, she had to babysit a bunch of kids that weren’t even hers. Meanwhile, Sam and Kirby had forever been excused from babysitting duty because they were… well, they were honestly shit at babysitting. Which was rather ironic considering Sam used to babysit as an actual job back in school.

Clearly she had played the system better than Tara had.

“I would love a hug,” is what she ended up saying.

She was glad she did, because that kid? Gave amazing hugs. Clearly he had learned from you, because he hugged the exact same way. Arms over the shoulders and chin resting on the top of her head. She couldn’t help but smile into the kid’s chest when he squeezed her a little tighter before letting go.

“Better?” He asked.

“Much,” she said.

The movie continued to play on, and the kids moved from the couch to the floor. You had both decided to play it smart and make a pallet in front of the TV. It wasn’t anything big or special, but some blankets and pillows? Oh man, the kids ate that shit up, they almost didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Which left plenty of space for you to lay down on the couch and pull Tara down with you. Your chest pressed against her back while your arm snaked around her waist. It left her with a comfort that she couldn’t quite place. She felt safe when you held her like that, like nothing could get to her because you were there with her.

The whole situation was entirely too domestic. You were holding her, the kids were nearly asleep on the floor, and she felt safe. It made her feel like she was home. A warmth spread through her chest and she could practically feel her heart beat in rhythm with yours. Was that what it felt like? Was that what it really was?

Should she say it?

“You’re thinking really loud,” you whispered into her ear. The kids were completely passed out. “What’s in that pretty head of yours?”

She shouldn’t say it.

Maybe she should.

It could backfire.

But what if it didn’t?

“I love you.”

She thought she would have to wait for a response. That you would stiffen, back off, try to play it off like you either hadn’t heard her or you wanted to change the topic. But you giggled - practically giggled - and shifted behind her. You pulled her just enough so she could look at you and that stunning smile of yours.

“Oh thank god,” you said. “I thought I was going to have to say it first.”

“What?” She asked.

“I was gonna tell you ages ago and got cold feet,” you continued.

“And you just didn’t tell me?” She asked. You both fell silent when the kids shifted, but they quickly settled once again. “What is wrong with you?”

“I can’t let you win,” you answered quickly. “I need you to chase me back.”

“I-” she closed her mouth quickly. She supposed you were right; she had let you make the first move time and time again. But no way in hell was she going to admit that to your face. “You’re a dick.”

“I love you too,” you said, your smile impossibly bigger.

Tara rolled her eyes. Of course you would turn this whole love thing into a competition. Maybe it was one of those things she loved about you. Instead of letting you know, she just grabbed you by the face and pulled you down into a kiss that tasted of the capri-sun you had stolen from the kids.

She was glad you were the one she loved.

Let The Light In |6|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Six: Knight In Shining Armor

Summary: Tension rises between you & Tara when you, once again, find yourself protecting her—old habits showing themselves

Warning(s): Swearing, angst, Fr*nkie, grief (if you squint), intoxication, mentions of social anxiety & underage drinking

Notes: Took a while but it's finally here! Also throwing it out there that my face claim for Charlotte is Sofia Wylie<3

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Tara was walking down the streets of Manhattan, finally done with her classes for the day. It had been a long week and Tara was just thankful it was finally the weekend. She walked with one earbud in while her other hand subconsciously clenched her keys in her right pocket. It was a habit she had picked up not too long after what happened back in Woodsboro; that plus the pepper spray, taser, whistle, and expandable baton Sam always made her take before leaving the house, meant she was more than ready to defend herself if needed.

As she continued to walk, she felt something fury brush up against her. She looked down to find a gray cat, brushing itself against her. Tara smiled to herself before crouching down to get a better look at the cat. “Hey, there…do you have a name?” She looked for a collar but didn’t find one. 

Just then, the sky let out a loud grumble. She looked up at the gray skies then back at the cat, thinking. “I can’t just leave you out here to get drenched. Come on, let me take you home,” she gently picked up the cat, who didn’t protest.

By the time she got home, she was soaked. Her mascara was running and her hair was damp. She was freezing cold; she had wrapped her jacket around the cat so he wouldn’t get wet.

Sam began to walk out from the kitchen as she spoke, “Hey Tar– you’re soaked.”

“Yeah no shit, Sam.”

“Is… Is that a cat?”

“...Yes…” Tara said with a sheepish smile; she had completely forgotten about the ‘needing to convince Sam to keep him’ part.

“Tara, no.”

“Sam, yes.” 

Sam sighed as she made a quick trip to the bathroom, coming back with a towel and wrapping it around Tara. “You can barely take care of yourself–”

“Not true!”

“–How do you expect to take care of a whole ass cat?” 

Tara rolled her eyes, still holding the cat protectively in her arms. “Come on, I’m not a kid. I can take care of a cat. I’ll buy his food, change his litter box—all that stuff!” 

“I don’t know…”

“Please, Sammy,” Tara begged, pouting out her bottom lip. She gave Sam the same look she’d give her whenever she wanted more cookies when they were younger.

“Alright—alright, fine, you win,” Sam huffed and an excited smile broke out on Tara’s face.

“Yes!” Tara looked down at the cat victoriously.

“But Tara, I swear, I better not step in cat shit.”

“No cat shit. Got it.”

—

Dook.

That’s what Tara named her new found cat—named after the Babadook. It had been only a few days since she found him and he’s earned the title of, “my little menace,” from Tara. In the few days Dook has been here he has scratched Chad five times, ripped up Mindy’s sweater in five different spots, and constantly hisses at Sam during the most random times. Why? Sam has no idea, but Tara made the theory it was, “just to mess with her.”

So far, the only person Dook has been even remotely soft to was Tara. She didn’t mind that at all; she enjoyed coming home to Dook’s company—her room feeling less empty than it usually feels.

It was the following Tuesday; she sat not too far from the door as she re-watched Fear Street 1994 while waiting for you. Just as she was about to check her phone for the time, she heard a couple knocks on the door. Before Sam could call out for Tara to answer it, Tara jumped up and made her way to the door. Sam only raised an eyebrow before going back to what she was doing.

Tara counted five seconds in her head before opening the door.

“Took you long enough,” she said with a slight eye roll. 

“Afternoon to you too, Carpenter. So, you're gonna let me in or…”

“Well you’re as patient as ever,” Tara remarked sarcastically as she opened the door wider, letting you inside. You placed your bag down, sitting on the couch and taking out your notes as Tara sat a couple cushions over.

“So, I was thinking we could start with Friday’s notes and work our way to today since I couldn’t make Friday—” You suddenly heard Tara let out a dry chuckle, causing you to raise your eyebrows as you looked at her.

“Is there something you’d like to share with the class, Ms. Carpenter?” You quipped, looking up from your papers and at her. 

“Oh nothing…just that you’ve been missing a lot of study sessions lately and–”

“I wouldn’t call two a lot–”

“–and I don’t know why I have to suffer through extra work all because you wanna swap spit.”

You let out a dry laugh, looking at the younger Carpenter before realizing she was dead serious. 

“Oh—Oh you’re serious? Well, how about those two whole weeks you missed over some petty reason—I don't know what the reasoning was, but I know for a fact it was a hundred percent petty.”

“You know what, screw these notes,” Tara said before grabbing your binder from you.

“Hey—Hey! Wait just a minute there—what are you–?”

“We’re watching a movie,” she informed—not asking—after shutting your binder, putting it somewhere you couldn’t reach unless you stood up and walked to it. 

“We're a week and a half behind on study sessions.”

“Not my problem.”

“It’s literally your problem—our problem, actually.”

“Gosh, could you just not stress out for, like, two seconds? You’ll be fine. Now, a little birdy told me you like The Nightmare Before Christmas?” Tara told you, reaching for the remote.

“Yeah… I do.”

“Great. We’ll watch that.”

You didn’t need to know how boring she found the movie; she wasn’t looking at the screen much anyways.

—

Sam sat in her room, reading her book as she enjoyed the silence—wait. It’s silent. Why is it so quiet? It’s never so quiet when you’re over. The most she’s heard in the last thirty minutes were hushed voices, but nothing loud enough she could make out. She suddenly started to think about what could possibly be going on in the other—unsupervised—room. She could no longer concentrate on her book as her protective side took over.

You slightly leaned forward as you watched the screen with all your attention. Tara couldn’t help but wear a small smile when she noticed your intense focus. She pulled out of her gaze when she noticed you make a double take at your foot; just then, she saw a certain furry haired animal brushing up against your leg. 

To her surprise, Dook didn’t claw at you. As a matter of fact, he seemed…fond of you? 

“Hello, there…” You greeted Dook before gently picking him up. If anybody else had picked him up, they would’ve been clawed at in seconds. Tara furrowed her eyebrows as she watched you interact with her cat; the same cat who’s been an absolute ass to anybody who wasn’t her—well, before now.

You scratched him behind his left ear, causing him to let out a satisfied purr. It was then when you finally said something to Tara. “Since when did you have a cat?”

“Got him pretty recently, actually. He was just roaming the streets of Manhattan and had no collar so that’s how he ended up here.”

“Well, does this adorable face have a name?” You asked, looking at the cat as you complimented him.

Tara failed to fight another smile, showing off her dimples as she answered, “His name’s Dook.”

“Like, Babadook?”

“Yeah…” She watched as you continued to be sweet with Dook; he sat comfortably in your lap, looking a lot less grumpy than he usually is.

Suddenly, Sam abruptly enters the living room, causing Dook to hiss at her before moving back into his original position on your lap. 

“Sam, hey. Something wrong?” Tara asked her older sister.

“Uh, I just wanted to check up on you guys; it’s been pretty quiet.”

“Oh, yeah, we decided to watch a movie instead.”

Sam looked at the scene, recognizing the movie—her curiosity increased.

“Nightmare Before Christmas? But I thought you–”

“Have no harsh judgment regarding the movie? Yeah. I know.”

“No, I mean, don’t you find it really bor–”

“Entertaining? Yes, Sam. We know this.” Tara let out a dry cough, hoping Sam would just drop the topic all together.

“Okay…well I’m going to order some pizza. Are you staying over for dinner, Y/N?” Sam inquired, moving on, much to Tara’s relief. 

You looked at the time, thinking as you did, before looking at Sam from where you sat. “If it’s no trouble.”

“Of course not. I’ll order it right now,” she said before walking away, pulling out her phone as she did so.

“What was that about?” You asked Tara with a raised eyebrow, referring to what her and Sam were going back and forth about. 

Tara opened her mouth, not even sure what she was about to say, when she heard someone knocking. “Oh, I should probably get that,” Tara quickly got up to make her way to the door, relieved at being excused from answering.

“What are you guys doing here?” She immediately asked after opening the door to find Chad, Mindy, Anika and Ethan on the other side of the door.

“Good to see you too, T,” Mindy quipped.

Tara rolled her eyes, “I just mean, I wasn’t expecting you guys today.”

“We made plans last week for movie night.”

“And since it’s my turn to choose, we’re watching 10 Things I Hate About You,” Anika added in a cheery tone. 

“Um,” Tara looked over her shoulder to you, before looking back at her friends, “One second.” 

“Wait, who were you loo–” Before Chad could finish his question, Tara shut the door, making her way towards you.

“So, uh–”

“Heard the whole thing.”

Tara lightly nodded, holding her wrist in her other hand behind her back as she continued. “Does this mean… you’re going to go?” 

You were about to say yes but the words caught in your throat when you finally looked at the expression Tara wore.

You thought for a moment, putting down the bag you were just packing.

“Do you want me to?”

“Well…want’s a strong word–”

“Yes or no, Tara,” you said, looking at her.

Tara mumbled something incoherent, looking away from your gaze. 

“You’re gonna have to speak up, mumbles,” you teased the younger Carpenter.

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “I wan—I want you to stay. Happy?” She huffed, not even sure why she puts up with you.

You smile smugly at her, “Fine. ‘Guess I’m staying.” 

—

It was awkward—at least, for you, it was. Tara and her friends seemed to get each other, which is great for them, but you felt almost like a chaperone the entire time you were there. You tried to distance yourself as much as possible and when you did find yourself surrounded by the group of friends, you stuck by Anika. 

You always found yourself gravitating toward a familiar presence whenever you got caught in social situations like this. You spent most of your own fourteenth birthday party—that you didn’t even want—attached to Henry’s side, following him around like a puppy. You often stuck by people who you found comfort in. You’ve known Henry since daycare years and Anika has been there since she’s entered your life. 

You look at the time to see only an hour has passed as you sigh to yourself. Why were you here again?

“Hey,” you heard Tara say, opening her bedroom door to find you on her bed.

Oh, that’s why. 

“Hey.”

“You’re not enjoying yourself,” she said as a matter of fact, feeling a little defeated for some reason.

“Hm? Oh no—no this is, uh, great. Yeah, I just love hearing about the same football story over and over again while your curly haired friend continues to make passes at me…so fun,” your voice couldn’t be any more sarcastic. It started out as you wanting to lie, telling her it was going alright—truly! But you can’t help but be your usual sarcastic self, especially around Tara. 

“You’re having the worst time ever, aren’t you?”

You looked at her apologetic expression, exhaling as you adjusted your posture a bit. Tara walks over to sit across from you. 

“Look…Tar, it’s nothing personal. I’m just—I’m just not good with this stuff.”

“What do you mean?” Tara inquired genuinely.

You sighed, pressing down on your thumbnail with your index finger as you spoke. “I’m not good with…unfamiliarity I guess, or whatever. And—and socializing and all that shit just doesn’t come naturally to me—at least not like it does for people like Anika, and Chad—or you.”

Tara continued to listen to your words, giving you her full attention as you opened up to her. You blinked back at Tara, feeling like you just overshared far too much.

“This was stupid. Forget it.” You got up to leave but just as you reached for the door handle, you felt slender fingers wrap themselves around your wrist.

“It’s not stupid,” you heard Tara speak. You turned your head to look at her. “If you ever want to talk about it more… I’m here. That won’t change.” 

You swallowed, taking in Tara’s words as you processed what she was saying. You didn’t trust your voice, only settling for a light nod before leaving Tara’s bedroom.

By the time Tara also left—waiting a couple minutes, wanting to give you some time—you had already made your escape. 

When you got home that night, the feeling of dread took over you. It felt like there was barbed wire wrapped around your throat as you tried your hardest not to cry, because you knew if you did there was a chance you’d never stop. Memories of him flashed through your mind as you tried to shake them away, but it was no use. No matter how much you tried to escape it, Dewey's voice continued to ring in your head.

Dewey placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, looking at you with  genuine eyes as he spoke, “I’m here. That won’t change.”

—

Tara looked around with furrowed eyebrows, looking at the sea of people. She was currently at a Halloween frat party; she chose to go with a pirate costume this year. 

Tara was feeling indecisive about her costume this Halloween but then she got the idea when she remembered something you told her; for your first seven Halloweens, your mom had you dressed up as a pirate. Tara could tell you would not be wearing a pirate costume again any time soon.

Because of your high-sea past, Tara thought dressing up as a pirate would be a fun way to mess with you—well, if you were actually here. You were nowhere in sight. Tara squinted her eyes as she tried looking through the crowd—still no sign of you. 

Mindy noticed her friend looking around the room from her seat, which was odd. By this time Tara would be drinking, dancing, or even playing beer pong with Chad—but not sitting down.

Before Mindy could ask anything, Tara turned to Anika, asking her something that answered Mindy’s unspoken question.

“Hey, where’s Y/N?” Tara asked, her voice was slightly raised due to the blaring music. 

“At home. She couldn't—or rather refused to make it,” Anika answered the younger Carpenter.

“Oh,” Tara let out, turning to look ahead. 

Mindy and Anika glanced at each other, already being on the same page. “Why? Missed her?” Mindy inquired, smirking behind her beer bottle right before taking a sip.

Tara lightly scoffed, “Pfft no.” Tara dramatically rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

“Y/N?” Tara heard Anika say; she immediately sat up, uncrossing her arms and fixing her demeanor. Her expression instantly dropped when she saw who you were with. 

She did not know much about Charlotte. She seemed nice though. Nice enough. Tara heard from Anika that you’ve been “hanging out” with Charlotte for a few weeks now but haven’t exactly assigned labels yet. That made sense; you were never one for labels. 

She suddenly snapped out of her gaze when she realized you and Charlotte were walking towards them. 

“Hey, guys,” you said in an anything but enthusiastic tone.

“Hey, Y/N. Thought you weren’t coming,” Anika pointed out, not unkindly.

“Me too but this one,” you pointed with your thumb to Charlotte, “is quite the debater.”

“I was captain of the debate team back in high school,” Charlotte smirked. 

“Of course you were,” there was a slight teasing tone in your voice as you and Charlotte shared a look. Tara didn’t like that. She didn’t like that at all. You teased her. You gave her looks nobody else knew the meaning behind except you two.

Tara cleared her throat, causing you and Charlotte to look away from each other and at her. “So, you're gonna actually act like you’re here as a college student or a chaperone?” Tara joked and a small but soft smile grazed your face. 

“The night’s still young, Carpenter,” you replied, the smile she had been missing never faltering.

“Oh! Daisy’s here, I’m going to say hi. Catch you later?” You heard Charlotte speak from beside you. 

You looked over at her and lightly nodded, “Okay.” She placed a quick kiss on your cheek, catching you off guard, before going to her friend. 

You sat down in the seat between Tara and Anika—who was sitting in Mindy’s lap—and exhaled, already exhausted from being here.

“You’ve got,” Anika said, pointing to your cheek where there was a lipstick stain. You raised your left hand to your right cheek as your roommate shook her head.

“No the other—” You, once again, completely dodged the spot she was pointing at and Tara groaned.

“Dude, you’re helpless,” she said with an eye roll before reaching over and wiping the spot for you. She softly rubbed your left cheek as you looked at her. It didn’t take long for you to notice how close her face was to yours.

“There…” Tara trailed off, suddenly growing shy when she too realized how close her face was to yours.

Mindy and Anika look at each other before getting up. “We’re gonna dance. You kids behave,” Mindy said before walking away with her arm wrapped around Anika. 

“Let me guess… you’re a homicidal maniac?” She looked at your casual attire.

You smiled at her, tilting your head back and turning it to look at her, “You know me too well.”

You both shared a short laugh before it went silent again. Suddenly, you two realized this is the first you’ve both spoken to each other since that night at Tara’s place.

“Hey, so, uh, you didn’t say goodbye…” Tara said sheepishly, refusing to meet your gaze as she played with the hem of her costume. She didn’t have to specify what she was talking about, you just knew.

“Oh yeah, I was just tired so I decided to call it a night.”

Tara nodded understandingly as you looked down at her hands that toyed with the fabric of her costume. 

“So…was this,” you gestured to her costume, “planned or…? You both laughed again before she answered you.

“Course’ not. I just…happened to have decided on being a pirate a couple days after you told me your ‘first seven years of dread’ story.” Another laugh was shared between you two.

“Well, you look good,” you complimented. Tara couldn’t fight the heat that rushed to her cheeks as the compliment hit her ears. She was about to respond when suddenly you felt your phone vibrate.

You pulled out your phone, reading the text to yourself before putting it back in your pocket.

“It’s Charlotte, she wants me to meet her by the pool.”

“Oh. Yeah, totally.”

“Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone, princess.” You smiled at her as you sat up from your seat, Tara’s head tracked your movement. 

“Me? I would never.”

—

One thing. 

You asked her for one, very simple, thing. And now? Now, Mindy and Anika were calling you back inside because apparently Tara had the luck of being near Frankie of all people tonight. 

By the time you made your way inside—as quickly as you possibly could—you could see Chad also trying to stop the situation. You made your way over to the staircase, appearing from behind Chad.

“Let’s stay down here,” you said—not asking. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” Frankie said, causing you to let out a humorless chuckle.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, you did,” you remarked, feeling your hands start to ball up into tight fists. Before you could say anything else, Tara walks down a couple steps and is now standing in front of you as Chad keeps a careful eye on Frankie. “No, Y/N it’s fine. I want you,” you heard her say in a drunken voice. Far too drunk to consent. 

Frankie walks down, getting close to your face as he wears a disgusting grin. “Yeah, see Y/N? It’s fine. She wants to.” He turned around, roughly grabbing Tara’s arm. His grip causes Tara to let out a sound of pain, tripping on the stairs.

Without a second thought you pull him by the collar of his shirt, pushing him roughly against the wall; picture frames come crashing down but don’t give them a second look as hear glass shatter. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” You pushed your right arm harder against his throat, pinning him against the wall as your free hand tightly gripped his shirt. “Serousily, where the fuck do you get off!” 

Chad checked on Tara as you had Frankie pinned to the wall. You wanted to hurt him. You wanted to hurt him so bad. What was stopping you? You could do it. You look down at the shards of glass, itching to grab a piece. Suddenly, you saw that sinister smile. His sinister smile. That’s why you couldn’t.

But when you looked back at Frankie, you quickly forgot about everything that was stopping you. All you had to do was press into his throat a little harder and–

“I got it from here, Y/N.” You turned around to see Sam holding a taser. You immediately got the hint, getting off of Frankie.

“Hi! Sorry to interrupt, I'm just going to tase you really quick,” Sam said before tasing Frankie right in the crotch.

“Fuck!” He dropped to his knees, holding onto his stomach as he groaned in pain.

“You bitch!” He yelled, earning a swift kick between his legs—making the pain worse—from you.

“Watch your mouth,” you said before making your way towards Tara. “You okay?”

“It’s that psycho girl from reddit!” Someone shouted from the crowd that surrounded you. 

“Hey, don’t you have something better to do rather than stand around here all day?” Anika shouted at the crowd as Mindy shooed them away.

—

Tara walks ahead of the group as she feels her frustration take over. Sam tries to catch up to her as she calls for her, “Tara, will you stop!” Tara rolls her eyes, refusing to stop as she responds. “I cannot believe you did that, you embarrassed me!” 

“I was trying to help you!” 

Tara suddenly turns around, “And look what happened!” Her voice raises as it runs hot with anger. “You're out of my life for five years then you can't even leave me alone for five seconds,” Tara shouts with a throw of her arms. 

“Because you're not dealing with what happened to us. Have you ever gone to see the counselor at least once?”

You looked at Tara, studying every expression she wore on her face. You wanted her to be okay. You knew it wasn’t that simple, but you still couldn’t help but want it. You hated seeing her like this. You never liked seeing her like this.

You checked up on her when she was at the hospital, relieved she was asleep when you got there. You didn’t want her to think it meant anything. You were just making sure she still had a pulse. Who else would you get into fights with?  That’s what you told yourself, 'cause it’s true! You weren't overly concerned or anything. But it was the bare minimum amount of concern to have when you found out somebody you knew was recently used as somebody else's pin cushion. 

She’s Tara Carpenter, she’ll bounce back in no time, you told yourself. You can still remember the shock on all her friends' faces when they saw you sitting by her hospital bedside. They entered the room and when you saw them, you immediately stood up.

“Sorry, I just found out about what happened and wanted to check on her.” You put your hands in your pocket, feeling uncomfortable with the eyes on you. You couldn’t tell what was going through their heads. “But she’s breathing, so I’ll get going now.” When you’re about to walk out the door, Chad puts his hand on your shoulder which causes you to stop. Was he about to punch you? “You’re welcome to stay, dude.” Oh. 

You were welcome to stay. Did you want to? 

You shook your head,“No, it’s okay. You guys should spend your time with her—unbothered.” You said before walking out of the hospital, not waiting for a response.

Maybe you cared little more than you’d ever admit.

You snap out of your thoughts as you hear Tara’s voice again.

“Because I know what mine is—I’m going to get my degree, become a lawyer, and live my life, my life,” Tara’s voice was firm. Certain. 

—

Two soft knocks could be heard from the other side of the door. Tara was about to tell whoever it was to go away, but then she realized who those knocks belonged to.

“Come in.”

“Hey,” you greeted, carrying a bottle of ibuprofen and a cup of water.  

“Hey,” she replied, head tracking your movement as you put the items down and got closer to where she sat at the edge of her bed. 

“Mind if I…” You gestured to the open spot next to her and she patted it. You sat down, knees touching hers as you looked down at your hands that rested in your lap. Tara’s gaze from you only broke when she felt the feeling of embarrassment all over again.

You noticed a change in her demeanor, causing you to finally glance at her. “I don’t think she meant for to…make you feel embarrassed or anything,” you tried to comfort. You were never good at this kind of stuff. 

“I know… I just—I just completely embarrassed myself out there. You guys probably think a lot less of me now…”

You lightly nudge her shoulder, getting her to look at you again. “Hey, no, okay? We just wanna make sure you're safe,” your facial expression matched your honest tone as you spoke. 

Tara turned her head away, a smirk slowly growing on her face. She turned back to look at you, ignoring how close your faces were. “We?” 

You rolled your eyes as Tara kept hers on you, smirk never falling. “Don’t let it get to that big ass ego of yours.”

“Aww, you caree about me,” Tara teased. You felt your cheeks warm up as you grew flustered.

“I care about you the—bare minimum amount,” you said unconvincingly. 

Tara shoved you a bit, “Liar.”

You shoved her back, “Most honest person you’ll ever meet.” 

Tara shoved you back again. “Liar.”

“Oh, you really wanna play this game?” You inquired, turning your head to her. 

Tara still smirked as she responded, “I could do this all night.”

Your faces were, once again, inches apart. Tara’s eye line meets your lips as tension builds in the room. Then suddenly the door opens, causing you and Tara to pull apart.

“Oops, sorry I didn’t mean to cock block you,” Quinn said as you and Tara silently cringed.

“Please...don't say cock," Tara said while slightly grimacing.

Quinn shrugged then looked at you. “Don’t believe we’ve officially met. I’m Quinn,” she held out her hand. You glanced at Tara before accepting the red head’s hand. 

“I’m–”

“Y/N? Yeah, I’ve heard lots about you.” You couldn’t tell what that could’ve meant, not noticing the shared look between Quinn and Tara.

“Don’t you have, like, a guy to see or something?” Tara asked, trying to get Quinn out of here as soon as possible.

“Well, Tara’s right, I should get going,” Quinn said, immediately getting the hint. “See you around, Y/N,” she winked at you.

“That was…” You trailed off, not able to meet Tara’s gaze.

“Embarrassing? Oh, extremely.” 

—

“Is Tara okay?” Charlotte asked over the phone. You held your phone to your ear as you grabbed a box of leftover pizza from the fridge with one arm.

“She will be…” You thought about the younger Carpenter as you spoke.

“I’m glad.” There was a beat of silence before she spoke again. “I uh… didn’t know you could fight like that.”

“What do you mean?” You placed the box on the table, sitting down.

“You had Frankie pinned. A man with his frame and build was completely defenseless under your hands. It was impressive,” her last words came with a flirty tone. 

“Oh, yeah?” You decided to match her tone.

“Yeah… Do you want to come over tomorrow? My roommate's visiting his boyfriend so I’ll be pretty lonely—some company would be nice."

You bit your bottom lip, thinking as you looked at your calendar. “Yeah—yeah, that works. What time should I stop by?”

“Six good?”

You looked at your calendar again.

“Can’t do six…” You said, looking at Tara’s name on your calendar. “How about eight?”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then, super soldier.” 

You let out a light laugh, “Yeah, yeah. See you then.”

—

Tara was on the phone with Mindy, intensely debating over American Psycho, when she heard a couple knocks on the door. 

She got up from the couch as she said goodbye to Mindy, hanging up. She opened the door to see you standing there with your bag on your shoulder. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Tara realized it had been a full ten seconds since she opened the door. She moved to let you inside, and you sat in your usual spot. 

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Tara inquired as she sat, hugging her knees.

“He didn’t really give us much to work with on Friday so, uh, just whatever we missed last time,” you said, not even looking at her as you looked around your stuff.

“Looking for something?”

“Yeah my pen. It was here five seconds ago–”

“This pen?” Tara said, pulling something from behind your ear. You looked at her and realized she was holding your pen. She hands it to you as you let out a timid chuckle, embarrassed at your lack of attention.

“Are you…alright?” She asked, looking at your features as you spoke.

“It’s just exams and stuff. I’ve kind of been all over the place trying to prepare—but that’s why I’m here. To study. So let’s begin,” you pull out your binder, flipping to the right folder.

Tara hesitantly followed along, keeping an eye on you. 

After an hour and a half, you looked at the time and silently cursed as you got up and gathered your things.

“Leaving already?”

“Yeah, I’m meeting Charlotte around eight. So, I gotta get going,” you packed everything, racking your brain for anything else you could be forgetting. 

“Oh..okay…”

You turned to look at Tara, “What is it?”

She cleared her throat, slightly shaking her head. “Nothing, have fun—oh, and don’t forget your pen,” she dismissed as she held up said pen to you. 

You wear an embarrassed tight lipped smile, slowly taking the pen from her. “Thanks,” you put the pen in your bag before zippering it up.

“Uh, hey,” you heard Tara call out.

You stopped your movement, turning back to Tara. “See you later?” 

You lightly nodded, a small smile on your face. “Of course.”

—

Tara found herself blasting Lana Del Rey as she wore a pout. Why was she wearing a pout? She had no idea. It was just there, and for some reason she was in a sour mood. She also knew she despised you. Possibly more than she did before; she was just starting to adjust then you had to go and make things even more confusing for her. 

Tara Looked at her seeing as she laid in her bed, petting Dook who rested beside her. She suddenly remembered the beer in the fridge. 

Sam was in therapy, Quinn was seeing another one of her hookups—what’s the harm?

Five beer cans later and she was more than buzzed. The urge to call you was getting harder and harder to resist with each can. She knew she shouldn’t, but she just couldn’t stop herself from opening your contact. 

“Tara?” You asked, confused as to why she’s calling you so randomly.

“Y/NN,” she slurred into the phone. “Have I ever told you you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts?”

“I—uh, where are you right now?”

“Hommee. Where else?” She said, followed by a hiccup.

“I’m coming over.”

—

You knocked two times; you could hear Tara struggling with the door knob from the other side before finally opening it.

“What are you doing here?” Tara inquired with a raised eyebrow. It seemed she forgot about your call from just ten minutes ago.

“Goodness, you’re drunk.”

“I am not drunk.”

“Oh, yeah? Then tell the time,” you crossed your arms as you looked at her. She turned to the nearby clock, “I am not drunk!” She literally told it.

“Jesus,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Come on, let’s get you to bed,” you walked over to her but then unexpectedly felt a shove to your chest.

“I don’t—I don’t need your help.” 

You exhaled, knowing all too well about the venomous look she wore. “You don’t mean that, come on.”

“I do! I don’t even want you here,” she slurred as she shoved your chest again.

“Too bad then. Cause’ I’m not leaving you like this.”

Tara had used up all the energy she had left to shove you, so she couldn’t even fight you off as you tried to walk her to her bedroom.

“Fuck you,” she gritted. 

“I know.” 

“No. You don’t know!” Tara yelled. “I don’t need a knight in shining armor,” she continued as you looked down at her. “I’m not a princess who has to be saved all the time.”

“Come on, I know you’re no–”

“This is what you do,” she pulled her arm away from you, “you just swoop in when everything’s fine and completely ruin shit. You think you’re pleasant to be around? Just when I think I have my life figured out, you have to come in and ruin it,” Tara spoke with pure conviction, no slurring in her voice.

“I—I don’t know what to say.”

She let out a dry laugh before saying, “When do you ever.” 

“You’re drunk, Tara… Please just let me get you to bed so you don't say anything else you’ll regret in the morning.”

“I don’t regret anything—and I’ll bring my own ass to bed.”

“Okay,” you softly said. You watched as she walked down the hall and to her bedroom. You waited a few minutes, getting the ibuprofen and water ready, before entering her bedroom carefully. Just as suspected, she was already asleep. You silently place the medicine and water on her nightstand before looking at her resting demeanor. 

Oh Tara, what am I gonna do with you?

-----------

A/N: I 100% know you guys aren't expecting the family member reveal I'm gonna do for R at some point (clues are scattered...)

Taglist: @t-wylia @lesbianpepsi @jennasfav @alyciaddict @justafoolinlove @steffido1993 @niqmandu @severelyuniquereview @darklron @ravenousinferno @smut-religiously777 @beautifulmongerbanditsalad @vanatalye @alexkolax @andsoigotabutterfly

The Quiet One Pt V

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem!reader

Summary:With Ghostface closing in on them, Act 3 finally begins as everyone teams up to hopefully once and for all take them down. ~ Word Count: 9.8k ~ Warnings: descriptions of gory injuries, blood, and anything that comes with Scream, Scream VI spoliers!!, hella swearing

A/N: OMG HEY!!!! IM BACK!!! It has been such a ridiculously long time since I have written, and I'M SO SORRY. Life really got in the way for a while, but I am back. This fic is so damn long it took me ages, but I hope it's everything you guys wanted. I love you all! COME ON MOTHERF*CKER!!

Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 ~ Pt5

Stepping onto the brisk streets of New York, a cool breeze brushed against your skin, painting a rosy hue on your nose and cheeks. The gentle breeze caressed your scar, providing needed relief to its subtle throbbing as you walked hand-in-hand with Tara, who was engrossed in conversation with her sister, while the rest of the group led the way to the station. Eyes scanning your surroundings hastily, your brain attempted to adjust to your new vision as you watched people walk past, utterly oblivious to the psycho that was tormenting their city.

You had never been more jealous.

While meeting Tara was undoubtedly the best part of your life, walking nonchalantly down a busy street at night without checking your shoulder regularly sounded pretty nice. Was it worth throwing your love for Tara away for? Absolutely not, yet you would be lying if you said there wasn't a little voice in the back of your mind that liked to remind you how every day your life could've been - especially after everything you've suffered, as if Woodsboro wasn't enough.

As if sensing your discomfort, Tara paused her conversation with her sister to glance at you worriedly, her eyes scanning your rigid posture and distant eyes moving too fast for her to track. She squeezes your hand to grab your attention as your eyes finally meet hers, your lone e/c eye standing out against its pale white counterpart. "You okay?" she whispers softly, her eyebrows creasing slightly. "Yeah," you sighed dejectedly, "just kinda wishing I had a normal life... you know, without all this Ghostface shit".

You watched as Tara's face fell slightly at your words, causing you to panic, "It's not your fault! I love you and everyone here. I just hate worrying about who will be alive in the morning." Her expression was slightly lifted as a small smile formed on her lips, but guilt continued to gnaw at her eyes. You could hear her whisper, "Yeah, I get it", as she briefly looked away to look at others a few metres ahead of you. She lets go of your hand with a comforting squeeze as she quickens with each step. "I'll be right back."

Watching as she walked off, a gentle hand on your shoulder pulled your attention from the small girl now talking to Mindy. "Did I say something?" you ask, knowing it was Sam standing next to you. "No, she just likes to run off sometimes," she jokes lightheartedly, a slight chuckle falling from your lips. "Tell me about it.". Mindy glances back at you as Tara approaches Chad and Danny. "She's a difficult girl to understand, but if there's one thing I know for sure, it's that she loves you. It's a little obsessive, honestly." Your cheeks flush as you look at Sam questionably, "Sam being sentimental? Never thought I'd live to see that." "Oh shut up" she shoves your shoulder playfully as a comfortable silence falls between the two of you.

Curious, you gaze at Tara as she returns to her position beside you, intertwining your hands without hesitation. You enquire softly, "What was that all about?" while she keeps her gaze fixed on the approaching station stairs. "Nothing. I just needed to talk to them about something.". Despite feeling it was about you, as said friends kept looking over their shoulders at you, you stopped yourself from pushing it.

As soon as you stepped foot in the station, you were greeted by an overwhelming influx of people, many of whom were dressed in Halloween costumes. Mindy steps back from the group in front to stand by your side as you take in your surroundings for the first time. Like you, she looks through the crowds, her expression more serious than you're used to on her. You excused her unusual behaviour until you both walked into someone who stared at you wide-eyed, horrified by your scar.

"What the fuck are you looking at?! Fuck off! Jeez... some people."

Now, you were the one who had to look at Mindy with wide eyes. This type of aggression was uncommon for the typically gentle and humorous girl, so the fact that she even displayed it, especially to defend you, it shocked you, to say the least. "Damn, Mindy… thanks," you muttered under your breath as Mindy returned your timid smile, "They deserved it."

Walking further onto the platform, the group waited momentarily whilst the train came to a stop and the doors opened. With tons of people trying to squeeze through the small doors to fit in the tiny space left on the packed train, it became a free-for-all. It happened in a blur; your hand separated from Tara's as Danny dragged her onto the train, leaving you and Mindy amongst the wave of people.

Amidst the chaos of people jostling your shoulders, your attention shifted away from Mindy's presence and focused solely on reaching a concerned Tara. Mindy's frustration became evident through the curse words she hurled at those around you. As you pushed your way towards your girlfriend, an obnoxious person dressed as Ghostface forcefully pushed you from behind, causing you to stumble onto the train and into Tara's embrace, the girl grunting softly at the impact. The echo of Mindy's furious tirade filled the air as you finally turned to witness her forcefully pulling off their mask.

Tucked in Tara's embrace, a soft chuckle escaped your lips at the scene before you. That was until the doors of the train started to close. "Shit… Mindy!" you exclaim, feeling a surge of guilt wash over you as you desperately try to reach the door, only to be held back by Tara. You watch Mindy's sudden realisation of the closing doors, a loud 'fuck' escapes her lips as she tries to navigate through the remaining crowd in her path.

The doors shut just as she's about to reach them.

You pound your fist against the door in frustration, mirroring the same exasperated look on Mindy's face. Grabbing your phone, you motioned for her to do the same through the glass as you texted her. The whine of the train starting to move fills your ears as Tara pulls you closer, her body wrapped around your free arm.

In the midst of all the chaos, it escaped your attention that Ethan had also managed to miss the train, although you couldn't quite fathom how. Your phone dings with a text from Mindy. "She's taking the train right after us with Ethan," you inform the group, slipping your phone into your back pocket and releasing a quiet sigh.

"She'll be okay. She's Mindy." Tara comforts you softly, gently stroking your arm as you gaze down at her, nodding in response. You embraced your girlfriend in a tender and heartfelt hug. You were burdened with guilt. You're not sure where this sudden protective nature had come from, and although your heart felt some relief knowing that she cared, you couldn't help but feel responsible for it.

She was protecting you, and look where that got her.

Letting go of Tara, you gently kissed her forehead and intertwined your hand with hers. Until now, you were completely absorbed in your thoughts, oblivious to the tension brewing within the group. Taking your gaze off your girlfriend, the source of said discomfort became obvious.

Ghostface.

Everywhere.

"Oh, what the fuck" you cursed as Tara's grip on your hand tightened. Everywhere you looked, there were individuals wearing the costume that perpetually plagued your nightmares, and their unwavering gazes seemed to be fixated on you. "Why are there so many of them?" Chad asked, his frustration evident in his voice as he, too, grew tired of encountering the same pale mask wherever he went.

Everyone's faces are ridden with anxiety. "How many stops do we have?" Tara inquired with a heightened sense of urgency, eager to get off the train just like the rest of you. Sam gazes at the map, undoubtedly internally pleading that it's not too many. Looking back at the group, she hesitates slightly, revealing the news couldn't be good. "Ten", she speaks solemnly. Tara's eyes are filled with concern as you exchange worried glances, causing your heart to race at an abnormal speed.

The subway lights start flickering, intensifying the eerie atmosphere inside the train. Your vision, already impaired, struggled to follow every Ghostface amidst the flickering lights. It became nearly impossible for you to keep track of them, adding to the waves of anxiety that were rushing over you.

As the train came to a halt, the lights flickered into a steady glow, and a voice over the intercom announced your arrival at 79th Street. In a matter of seconds, as you glanced down the carriage, your gaze met that of one of the masked individuals. Your face fell. A sense of fear filled the air, your breath catching in your throat as both of you remained motionless, captivated by the piercing gaze of those intense black eyes.

As if they had never been there, your intense gaze was interrupted when they vanished behind someone getting on the train. You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach as you scanned the area, desperately searching for any sign of them, but your efforts proved futile. The others remained clueless about what you just saw as the train started to move again, the lights resuming their irritating flickering.

You pulled Tara closer to you as the carriage grew dim, the silhouettes of your friends becoming the only discernible shapes in the darkness. With a tender embrace, she places her hand on your back, tracing soothing circles that bring you a sense of calm. You locked your gaze on the floor as the cabin continued to flicker around you.

"This is 72nd Street", the announcer speaks monotonously, the train coming to a stop as you look up from the floor, noticing your girlfriend's concerned gaze directed towards you. Attempting to avoid her gaze, your sight lands back on the Ghostface from before, again staring daggers at you. You try to maintain an equally stern gaze, which you manage until they start moving towards you at pace.

"Guys", you quickly inform the others about the imminent danger. The atmosphere instantly tense up as all eyes fixate on the approaching figure. Tara and Chad both step forward to protect you. The Ghostface suddenly stops right in front of you, causing your friends to freeze in an effort to avoid giving away any reaction, just in case it's not the real killer.

Attacking a perfectly innocent person on a New York subway was the last thing you needed, especially with the rumours surrounding Sam.

With a sudden and effortless motion, the person in front of you removes their mask, making Chad flinch. Instead of those frightening black eyes, a teenage girl's soft brown eyes fixated on you, brimming with a curious intensity that seemed almost unhinged.

"Holy shit, your makeup is so good! I saw it from across the train, but, oh my god, it looks so much better up close. How did you do it?" she chirps out in excitement. You freeze, immediately recognising she is talking about your scar.

Your perfectly real scar.

You find yourself speechless, unable to form a response as the unexpected question catches you off guard. Without hesitation, the girl extends her hand towards your face, her fingers inching closer to your scarred face. Taken aback, you witness Chad's hand swiftly grasping the girl's wrist with a firm grip. The expression on the girl's face is filled with surprise, whilst Chad displays determination.

"Get away from her before I make you." Your eyebrows raise slightly at his words, your lips quirked into a small smile as you revelled in your friends' newfound sense of protectiveness.

It made you feel human again.

You softly thank Chad, who gives you a curt nod and a smile as your face lights up with a smile that hadn't adorned your lips for many days. Since Ghostface's return, your life has been completely turned upside down. Your friends began to turn against you as the blame game singled you out as its victim, tearing apart the very essence of your being.

However, at this moment, as you bear the marks of your past and the lasting impact it has had on you, a newfound determination surges through your veins as you observe the individuals surrounding you.

These were your people. Your family.

You were determined to go to any lengths to protect them, even if it meant sacrificing yourself for their sake.

With your hands still interlocked, you finally emerge from the sweaty train and lead the way up the stairs, closely followed by Tara and the others. You quicken your pace up the weathered stairs, your gaze searching for a blonde who had agreed to meet you here. A voice you recognise calls to you as you reach the peak of the staircase. "Hey," you hear her say, your eyes meeting Kirby's as you shift your gaze towards the woman.

As she approaches, she effortlessly inserts herself into the group, seamlessly blending in as you all make your way towards the theatre. "I've talked to Bailey. I've got everything set up," she explains before noticing the lack of numbers in the group. "Where are Mindy and Ethan?" she asks, her voice tinged with a mixture of worry and suspicion. Clenching your jaw slightly at the reminder of the people you left behind, Tara jumps in to respond, "They're five minutes behind us."

"Let's get you all inside.", Kirby speaks, nodding in response before she redirects her attention to the theatre, which is now just a few steps in front of you. As the dilapidated structure looms before you, its imposing presence casts a shadow over the group. Everyone's steps come to a halt as Sam directs her attention towards Danny. "Not you."

Turning towards them, you watch as shock comes over Danny's face, "What?" he says, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Don't trust anyone, remember?" Sam speaks softly yet assertively. "We don't know you. Not really.". His face contorted with hurt as he leaned towards Sam. "You know me," he said, trying to convince her to let him protect her.

"You're not Woodsboro. I'm sorry." Whilst you felt bad for Danny, despite knowing that Sam would never willingly let anyone protect her, the revelation that being part of Woodsboro meant you were trusted filled a small part in your heart that you weren't aware was missing.

Releasing Tara's hand, you gently wrap your arm around her shoulder, pulling her close as you watch the interaction. Unbeknownst to you, a small smile graces Tara's lips, a sign that she's starting to see the return of the girl she loves after the emotional and physical turmoil you've both endured over the past few days.

"It's okay. It's okay, I get it." Danny finally speaks up. "Be safe, okay?" he pleads Sam, leaning in and kissing her cheek tenderly while delicately caressing her arms. Sam's face reveals a hint of guilt as she replies, "You too." before swiftly turning around and continuing walking. The rest of you cast sympathetic glances at Danny before joining the girl on the way to the theatre.

"Good call."

As Kirby unlocks the doors with a reverberating clank, a surge of nervousness courses through you as the doors swing open, revealing the dimly lit theatre. With Tara clinging tightly to your side, a sense of unease washes over you as you cautiously enter the room, fully aware of the gravity of the situation. "I cleared the whole place before you got here. This is the only way in or out." Despite your best efforts to pay attention, Kirby's words seemed to go unnoticed as you surveyed the familiar surroundings, a sense of unease growing within you.

"So, this is the only way in or out. He steps in through the first door, both doors lock automatically, trapping him inside. We turn it into a kill box." Kirby continues to explain enthusiastically, clearly entertained by the fact that this is finally her chance to bring one of these psychos to justice. "Weapons?" Sam questions. "One gun and I hold onto it." Sam gives Kirby a disapproving look, but before she can say anything, Kirby interrupts her, "I'm the only one with a badge here. That's the way it's going to be. We're safe here."

As much as you want to believe what she says, this was Ghostface you were dealing with. Despite the lingering uncertainty, you made an honest attempt to maintain trust in the plan's success, not only for your own sake but also for the sake of the others, particularly Tara.

"I'm gonna check in with Mindy. See if they're close." Sam interrupts, breaking the suspenseful silence that had fallen amongst the group. As Sam walks away and Chad follows, Tara squeezes your hand for your attention. "Come with me?" "Of course", you reply softly. She guided you to the old confectionary stand, a room that had unexpectedly become an escape for the two of you, as it felt like the only safe spot in the entire building.

Besides, it was Tara. You would follow her wherever she went.

"When was the last time anybody used this place? It's so old," Tara comments as you walk through the door. Although not well-maintained, the room decor still manages to evoke a strange sense of comfort as you softly chuckle at her words. "Yeah," you respond softly as you both make your way to the counter, gently letting go of Tara's hand and resting your elbows on it.

As you spot an old box of Milk Duds across the counter, your hand instinctively reaches out to grab them, only for your hands to collide with the girls next to you. A faint blush tinges on your cheeks as her hand pulls back, causing a soft chuckle to escape your lips, "I-I'm sorry, you can have them". You apologise, holding the box towards her, a hint of nervousness evident as you gently bite your lower lip. She pushes your hand back towards you with a slight smirk. "Take them."

"No, I mean…" you stuttered, her touch sending a shiver down your spine as you savoured the rare moment alone you'd shared with her for a while. "If you want them, you have them," you eventually finish. "You think I want these?" she chuckles, prompting a shared embarrassed laughter between the two of you. Your eyes lock, smiles forming on your faces, entirely captivated by each other. "Kind of", you joke, raising your eyebrows at her. "They're like a hundred years old. Maybe that's your thing."

Your soft laughter trails off into a comfortable silence as you look down at your hands, your heart racing, but this time from a much more pleasant catalyst. "I really missed you. I don't know why I told you to back off." You smiled gently at her, tears starting to well in your eyes. "I was so stupid. This whole time, all I really needed was you."

The more she spoke, the more flustered you got. Instead of enjoying the sentiment, you couldn't help but let your mind destroy it.

You're different from the person she is talking about.

She fell in love with the girl whose face wasn't mutilated and would probably scare off young kids. Whilst Tara and your friends could look past it, understanding the trauma you had gone through, you would never be able to walk down the Street without being met with horrified gazes from every direction. And even though Tara would undoubtedly try to protect you from it, you were convinced that her efforts would be futile.

"I'm not the same anymore," you said dimly. Tara frowned at you, gently taking hold of your trembling hand. "What do you mean?" "I just... someone mistook me for a Halloween costume for fucks sake... I'm not the same, and I never will be." You speak, deliberately avoiding eye contact with your girlfriend, as if her reaction would confirm the truth behind your words.

She could never see you the same.

Instead, her delicate touch caressed your cheeks, mindful of your scar, as she tenderly lifted your gaze towards her. Your teary eyes met hers as she looked at you with a tender smile. "Y/n... scar or no scar, you are still the same girl I fell in love with. Nothing will ever take you away from me, especially a scar that makes you look pretty badass if you ask me." you chuckle at her words, a few stray tears escaping, which she gently wipes away.

"I love you," she says, her gaze locked with yours, ensuring her words reach you. "I love you too," you speak with a chuckle, leaning closer to her as she wraps her hands around your neck and draws you in. The moment your lips connect, it feels like heaven. The taste of her lips is a sweet revelation, and you plan to savour every moment. The room seems to blur as the outside world dissolves, leaving only the two of you. The warmth between you intensifies, and a current of desire courses through your veins. Sinking deeper into the kiss, you wrap your arms around her waist, squeezing her tightly as your lips begin to move.

As you tried to deepen the kiss, a sudden jolt of pain shot through your scar, causing you to pull back. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath to suppress the pain, you eventually look towards your girlfriend apologetically as she looks at you worried. "Sorry," you chuckle lightly, "It's... still a little tender." You offer the girl a gentle smile as her hands glide down to your hips. "Don't say sorry. We'll just take it slow." Her seductive gaze locks with yours, setting your senses ablaze and causing a familiar blush to creep onto your cheeks. Briefly taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you lean in again. Nothing else mattered at this moment.

Or so you thought.

As your lips are seconds away from colliding, Tara's body is slammed into you as a scream erupts from her throat. Your eyes go wide in panic as you scream her name, only to see Ghostface standing behind her with a knife in her back. She is ripped from your grip as she is thrown to the ground. Although your instincts told you to help her, the masked individual who was now staring straight at you told you otherwise.

Without warning, their knife comes swinging towards you. Taking a swift step back, you barely dodge the blade as they go to swing again, their arm colliding with you. With a grunt, you harshly grip their arm before pulling them around you and throwing them into the wall. The shattering of glass from the poster frame intensifies the chilling encounter as another swing of the knife inches dangerously close to your face. Dodging the swing, you swiftly regained your footing and delivered a powerful punch to the psycho's face. As your fist made contact with their chin, they crumpled to the ground. As the cries of Tara echo in your ear, in a fit of anger, you direct your attention towards their fallen form and deliver a forceful kick to their stomach.

Frantically realising that there was little time they would be on the ground, you swiftly pivoted and rushed to your girlfriend's side, urgently helping her to her feet and guiding her towards the door. With a sudden burst, the door swings open, startling you as Sam and Chad's faces, filled with terror, appear on the other side, their expressions clearly reflecting the echoes of Tara's bone-chilling scream. They quickly notice your dire situation and urgently drag you from the room.

"Come on, go, go, go!" Sam screams as you run out of the room, and Chad slams the door behind you. "It's Kirby! She's the killer!" Sam yells at you, "No shit!" you scream back, desperate to get out of this place. Running towards the caged exit, you grip its rusted bars and pull at it desperately. "That's locked. Come on". Your face falls further, "Are we trapped?" you yell in disbelief. "She made the whole theatre the kill box. For us."

"Hey, what about that? There's an exit door." Tara directs everyone's attention to an opening on the roof, positioned just above a set of scaffolding. "Maybe it leads to the roof or something," you suggest, looking at your girlfriend, who nods in agreement. "There's only one way to find out. Let's go." Chad quickly takes the lead, leading the group towards your potential escape route.

"Bailey's on the way, but-" Sam's words are abruptly interrupted as Ghostface unexpectedly pounces on you from the shadows of the stage. Tara frantically tries to evade the swinging knife, ending up on the floor in an attempt to do so. Unfortunately, you are unable to do the same as the blade slices the side of your arm. You firmly grasp the wound on your arm as you clench your jaw in pain. You watch as the Ghostface continues to swing at Chad and Sam before Chad manages to tackle them onto the floor.

"Y/n! Come on." you hear your girlfriend exclaim, her voice filled with urgency, as you catch sight of her and Sam moving towards the stage. You swiftly move as Chad forcefully slams an old movie camera into their masked face, causing their head to snap back and hit the ground with a resounding thud.

Chad follows you with the camera in hand as you join the girls backstage, both of them looking around frantically for an exit. "This way! Come on!" Tara's voice echoes through the air as she swiftly dashes towards a small tunnel backstage. You eagerly trail behind her along the narrow path, acutely aware of the ominous footsteps of Ghostface closing in from behind. Until now, your lack of vision in one eye hadn't posed much of a problem. Yet, as you sprinted through the narrow pathway, you kept crashing into the walls while Chad struggled to guide you in the right direction.

As you cast a quick glance over your shoulder, a chilling realisation washes over you - Ghostface is steadily closing in. "Fuck, they're fast," you exclaimed, as Chad also realised their proximity. "Get fucked", he shouted as he made the quick decision to hurl the bulky camera at them, immediately slowing them down.

With the additional advantage, you all made it back into the confectionary area as Chad threw the popcorn machine behind you. They quickly push it out of the way as you all turn around to face them. With a slight tilt of their head, they launch a series of aggressive swings towards you and Chad.

The knife narrowly misses both of you as you attempt to position yourselves for some kind of counterattack. Swinging down at Chad, he manages to grab their arm as you grab their shoulders, throwing them back onto the counter. Sam and Tara swiftly seize their arms, desperately trying to subdue them, while you deliver a decisive blow to their face, sending them crashing to the ground once more. As they fall to the ground, Tara quickly runs up to them and boots them in the face.

You couldn't help but think how hot it was.

"Go! Go!" Chad exclaims, swiftly grabbing the old bubblegum dispenser from the counter. With a determined gaze, he raises it above his head, preparing to deliver a decisive blow to Ghostface. Tara and Sam guide you away from him, leading you towards the door, expecting him to join you momentarily.

His piercing screams quickly disrupt the plan, causing everyone to turn their heads in disbelief. Your jaws hang open in shock as you see another Ghostface standing beside him, clutching a knife pierced in his side. "No! Chad!" Tara screams, sending a shiver down your spine. With Sam holding her back, you watch in suspense as the two masked figures surround Chad and lift him up to his knees.

They absolutely butchered him.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you witnessed the relentless onslaught. You watched him get stabbed over and over and over again as if it was never going to end. You were frozen to your spot. He somehow mustered up the strength to tell you to run, but no one could move. "Go," he sputters out, his determination to save the rest of you clear. In a swift and chilling motion, the Ghostfaces allow his lifeless form to crumple to the ground. With synchronised precision, they wipe their blades clean, sending a shiver down your spine.

Finally getting over your shock, you immediately grabbed the two sisters and dragged them out of the door. "This way. Up here. Come on." Sam directs your pointless running as she tries to get you both backstage. Before you can make it, one of the Ghostfaces pounces from behind the screen. Instinctively turning around, you are stopped immediately as the second Ghostface traps you, waving their knife mockingly.

You're surrounded. Whipping your head back and forth, you watch as they both close in on you, the tension in the air palpable. Thinking quickly, Sam assesses the situation with a determined glint in her eyes. Without hesitation, she swiftly grabs some bricks from the debris-laden floor, handing one to you and another to Tara. In that instant, a silent understanding passes between you - do anything to survive.

As Sam moves the two of you so that you find yourselves back to back, forming an impromptu defensive triangle, the weight of the brick in your hand provides an unexpected but reassuring comfort. The cold surface of the brick grounds you, grounding your resolve as you prepare to face whatever unfolds.

"Ready?" Sam asks, and you swiftly reply, although Tara's distressed cries hinder her ability to respond, overwhelmed by panic and fear. "I need you to be ready. Ready?" With your free hand, you firmly grasp Tara's, offering a comforting squeeze while she inhales deeply. Her hesitation overwhelms Sam, prompting her to urge Tara to look at her. As Tara meets her gaze, a newfound determination fills her voice as she declares, "I'm ready."

"Come on motherfucker!"

Just as the fight was about to begin, the deafening echoes of gunshots reverberated through the vast theatre, prompting an instinctive duck for cover. The ominous figures of the two Ghostfaces hastily retreat into the shadows, leaving an unsettling silence shattered only by your heavy breathing. In the dimly lit ambience, a figure emerges from the stage, and a collective gasp escapes the group as the familiar face of Kirby comes into focus, blood streaming down from a fresh wound on her temple.

"It's okay!" Kirby's voice rings out, a desperate attempt to reassure, though her pained expression reveals the gravity of the situation. The vivid red streams on her face contrast with her pale complexion, creating a chilling scene that leaves everyone motionless.

"Stay the fuck back!" Sam's voice pierces the tension, laced with a mix of fear and anger, earning a confused glance from Kirby, disoriented yet resolute. "We know it's you, Kirby," Tara adds, her tone unwavering as Kirby hesitantly approaches the group. "One of them knocked me out," Kirby pleads, her expression changing to one of desperation. Her eyes are genuine, making you want to trust her more, but your trust issues weren't easy to overcome.

"Kirby, stop!" A deep voice slices through the air, redirecting attention to Bailey, who strides into the theatre with a drawn gun, his gaze fixed on Kirby. "Get away from the girls!". The urgency in Bailey's command prompts an instinctive protective response as you push Tara behind you, eyes fixed on the unfolding standoff.

"What are you doing?" Kirby pleads desperately, the air thick with accusation and uncertainty. "Did you kill Quinn!? Did you kill my daughter!?" Bailey's vengeful glare intensifies, scaring the shit out of you.

He clearly wasn't afraid to kill for his kids.

"Jesus Christ!" Kirby exclaims, her eyes darting between you and the detective in disbelief. With her focus back on you, she pleads again, "Whatever he's been saying to you, don't listen to him." The desperation in her gaze transforms into one of resolve as she turns back to the man threatening her. "He's probably the killer," she speaks assertively.

Your gaze remains fixed on Bailey, his expression unwavering even as the damning accusation hangs in the air. Suddenly, the figure of Ghostface appears behind Bailey, and Kirby's frantic scream fills the space, warning him of the imminent threat, "Behind you!" she screams. Disregarding her desperate plea, Bailey swiftly pivots and unleashes three deafening gunshots that pierce through the air, each shot finding its mark, striking Kirby in the chest, and causing her to crumple to the ground.

The aftermath is a haunting symphony of laboured breaths and the lingering echoes of her cries. As your focus shifts back to the killers, you watch in horror as two Ghostfaces stand alongside Bailey, their presence casting a sinister pall over the unfolding chaos. The dim lighting accentuates their ominous figures, while Bailey, wearing a sadistic smirk, reveals himself as an orchestrator of this grim spectacle.

"Great job. Both of you."

"You?"

A palpable tension filled the air in the dimly lit theatre, engulfing you as the truth unravelled right before your eyes. "Yeah, of course me." Bailey teases with a smirk growing on his lips, "Frankly, I expected more from you two after what you did to us."

"What do you mean 'us'?" Tara questioned hesitantly. Bailey's smirk grew into an insufferable smile as he looked to his left, where one of his accomplices was moving to remove the mask. Your heart pounds inside your chest as the white face and black fabric are torn away, revealing your friend's face.

Ethan.

The seemingly unassuming roommate revealed himself with a sinister grin. "Ta-da!" Bailey laughs, finding the shock on all of your faces amusing. The sick look on Ethan's face made you want to puke, the revelation that someone you considered a friend had been out to kill you all along.

The feeling made Woodsboro feel like nothing. The two killers were Sam's boyfriend, whom you had hardly met and someone who you hated from the beginning.

It was nothing compared to seeing the real side of your friend.

With a smirk plastered on his lips, he begins to taunt you about how unsafe you were the whole time, "Mindy was right; it was easy to juke the roommate lottery. All I had to do to meet you was room with a conceited, condescending alpha, literally named Chad. Fuck it felt good to kill him.". You felt a surge of anger coursing through you as he spoke, causing your jaw to clench and your grip to tighten around the brick in your hand.

The idea of Ethan pretending to be his friend for months, only to have been plotting his demise the whole time without any hint of remorse, ignited an unbearable anger inside you.

"This one was your grandmother's Sam. Nancy Loomis?" Ethan smiles at Sam, pointing to his mask with his bloodied knife. "Really runs in your fucking family, doesn't it? And speaking of family, my name isn't Ethan Landry, is it, Dad?"

"Dad?" Tara speaks for the rest of you, your faces growing more shocked. As the shock washes over you, your focus shifts to the second masked figure who still stands menacingly staring directly at you.

"But, if you're Ethan, that just leaves… Mindy?" Sam breathes out in disbelief. Your expression twisted in confusion as you looked back at the memories of how much Mindy had loved Anika. It seemed impossible, yet who else could it be?

Shock filled the room as Quinn removed her mask, leaving you all in stunned silence. "Hey, Roomies. Didn't see that one coming, did you?"

"But you died?" Tara spoke, a hint of anger behind her voice. "Yeah, kinda didn't, though." Quinn quipped mockingly, "It was a good way to get off the suspect list, stab Gale Weathers, stab Mindy on the train, that sort of thing."

Bailey's proud smile made you feel sick as his proud eyes bore into yours, "I made sure I was first on the scene so I could switch her body out with a fresh one. You'd be surprised with what a grieving father can get away with."

Your anger was starting to burst at your seams, being played for fools and having someone come back from the dead to kill your friends, pulling very tight on your last nerve.

"I got Stu Macher's mask. He was my favourite.". You rolled your eyes at her giddy proclamation. Of course, he was.

Bailey, clearly the leader of this psychotic trio, took slow and calculated steps towards Sam. "Number three and number two. Which just leaves…" Pulling out the most weathered mask from his jacket, he holds it out towards Sam, his eyes menacing. "I'm gonna need you to put it on."

Sam stands tall and looks back at the man with a matching expression, slapping the mask out of his hand as you watch his jaw clench in anger. Ethan is quick to react and slashes his knife towards the girl, slicing through her upper arm with a hiss.

You are quick to catch Sam as she falls back into you. She quickly recovers as she grasps her arm, now dripping with a familiar crimson liquid. Bailey's two minions begin to move around you, circling you as your anger finally comes spewing out of you; you step in front of Sam with rage filling your eyes. "You did all this as a family?" you yell at them incredulously. "Hell yeah, bitch! Sam should know why better than anyone!"

You immediately knew they were talking about Billy, yet the true origin of their motive still escaped you. What family had Sam ever hurt for them to hate her so much to go on a murderous rampage?

"They still haven't figured it out. Maybe we overestimated them." Ethan mocked as the confusion was clearly evident on your faces. Sam was the most confused of all, knowing that she had never done anything wrong. "I don't know what you believe, but I didn't commit the murders in Woodsboro…"

Bailey's laugh fills the theatre, slightly offended that Sam would think that they would believe some stupid internet rumour. Instead, he reveals that it was, in fact, Quinn who had started the malicious rumours, making life in New York for Sam absolute hell.

Each time you think the betrayal couldn't run any deeper, they manage to beat themselves yet again.

"You're a killer, just like your father was.". "I'm not…". "Yes, you are, you motherfucker! You killed our brother!". The gears could finally tick inside your heads as you looked between each other in an attempt to connect the dots. As far as you were aware, the only person Sam had ever 'killed' was… Richie.

Oh shit.

"You're Richie's family?" The realisation also struck Sam as her face sank. "Ding-ding-ding, now she's finally getting it." You shook your head in disbelief. A family seeking revenge for their dead son, okay, sure. Seeking revenge for a murderous psycho by killing his victims who had killed him out of self-defence? Too far.

Yet clearly, nothing was too far for this family, as Ethan revealed the sickening detail that they had killed their own mother because she had refused to avenge Richie. You knew all Ghostfaces were, on some level, psychotic, but this was getting insane.

"Great job with the parenting…" Tara quipped at Bailey, her words bringing the tiniest of smiles to your lips, her sarcasm never failing to entertain you, even if it's whilst you are surrounded by killers.

"You shut your whore mouth!" Quinn screamed at the girl, your jaw clenching at the insult as you looked at her, infuriated. The temptation to throw the brick in your hand at her face almost overcame you until you felt a gentle hand on your wrist.

"I loved my son. So I helped him build this collection." You shifted your gaze towards the older man as he looked amongst the exhibitions with a reminiscent smile. "All of this is Richies?"

The more you seemingly find out about Richie, the more Sam's expression seems to fall. The guilt she had felt after Woodsboro was reborn as her ignorance about her then-boyfriend increased tenfold.

Knowing that this was all Richie's made the space somehow more bone-chilling than before. As your eyes scanned the numerous exhibits, filled with items that belonged in an evidence box somewhere, a part of you pangs with guilt for the other siblings who were clearly the least favourite.

"This is where you have to die." Your attention is brought back to him as he redraws his gun and points it directly at Sam. Instinctively grabbing for Tara's hand, you spare Sam a quick glance, noticing her expression shift as she tilted her head at the man.

Oh, he was fucked.

"He was pathetic, you know?". You watched the deadpan expression on Bailey's face break. "That's not true…" he shook his head. "He was a man-baby who made his girlfriend do almost all the killing." You had to hold back your smile as you watched his facade breakdown. "He was a strong, virile young man!" "He was a weak little bitch who cried before I cut his fucking throat."

As the words leave Sam's mouth, Quinn lunges towards the three of you with a bloodcurdling scream. She is quickly and effortlessly stopped as Tara clocks her in the face with her brick. With teeth and blood flying out of her mouth, she falls to the floor.

A sign that their moment is finally over, your senses are heightened as Act 3 appears to finally kick off. Before you can make any moves, gunshots ring out from behind you as you turn to see Kirby apparently coming back from the dead.

Her resurgence doesn't last long as Ethan quickly rushes towards her with his knife ready in his hand. You're quick to follow the boy as he reaches Kirby and stabs her in the stomach. Finally reaching them as Kirby falls to the ground in pain, you run straight into Ethan, throwing him into the ground. He quickly gets back up and runs away with a maniacal laugh as you shift your focus back to Kirby.

Noticing the knife still sticking out of her stomach, you look at her with a grimace as you realise it's the only way you're gonna get a weapon anytime soon. "Sorry, but I need this." She gives you a small nod as she squeezes her eyes shut.

Gripping onto the handle, you pull the knife out swiftly in an attempt to minimise her pain. She howls in pain, and her hand grips on your arm, her nails digging into your skin as the wave of pain washes over her. Finally relaxing, she opens her eyes back up and looks at you with a tiny smile.

"Fuck 'em up."

As you stand up, you see Ethan reappear from behind a wall, his eyes set on you. Turning towards him, he begins to charge towards you with a sick grin still plastered on his face. "What are you gonna do, scar-face…" he calls out mockingly as he closes in.

That made you snap.

With a new vigour burning inside of you, you lunge towards him as you pull the knife above your head. With a loud grunt, you drive the knife down into his chest. His smile finally washes over his face as he looks at you surprised. Ignoring it, you continue to pump your knife in and out of his chest as if he were a piece of meat, his blood splattering all over you, but you couldn't care less.

Out of breath, you push his limp body off of you as he keels down with blood sputtering out of his mouth. Standing still, you look at his blood-covered body with laboured breathing. Noticing he is still alive, you move to stab him again until you hear your girlfriend's voice from behind you.

"Y/n!" she calls, your head instantly turning in her direction as you notice her beginning to climb the scaffolding behind her sister. Taking your chance, you quickly run towards them, weaving in and out of the display cases before you reach the base of the scaffolding.

Looking for a place to hold your knife, you settle on wiping it off on your shirt, adding to the mural of crimson colours, before placing the knife between your teeth.

As you begin climbing, the gash in your arm aches as new blood begins to flow from the wound. Biting painfully onto the knife, you continue your ascent as you see Tara at the top, reaching her hand down to you. Hearing noise behind you, you turn your head as you watch Bailey and Ethan begin to circle you like sharks, smelling your blood.

With a final grunt, you reach the top and grab Tara's hand as she helps pull you towards the balcony. Watching the two sisters scale across it in front of you, you take the time to try and settle your breathing, which is easier said than done when you're clutching a knife between your teeth.

Moving to follow them, you take the knife out of your mouth and carefully hand it to Tara. Climbing carefully along the railing, you are seconds from making it to safety with the others before another shot rings through the air.

A burning sensation instantly erupts in your leg as you lose your balance and fall backwards. Screaming your name, Sam and Tara barely manage to catch you as your hands barely grip the slippery railing.

Peering over your shoulder, you watch as Bailey moves towards a set of stairs and Ethan moves to stand directly underneath you. "Shit. Not good," you whisper to yourself as your gaze returns to the sisters' terrified looks.

With your injured arm weakening by the second, a noise from the balcony catches your attention as Quinn appears behind Sam, brandishing a bloodied knife in her hand. As Quinn moves towards her, she is forced to let go of your arm, and she turns to face her.

With Ethan taunting you from below and Quinn and Bailey closing in on the girls, you overcome your panic and realise it's your life or theirs.

"Tara, let me go". Your words cause the girl to look at you in shock. “No, I-” “Tara! Let me go.”. Your grip continues to slip as she looks at you as if you have lost your mind.

"Tara… Please." you give her a small smile as she looks at you with tears in her eyes. You watch as her lips begin to quiver, and you feel her grip loosen. Giving her a nod, she finally lets go of your wrists, causing you to plummet down from the balcony.

Turning your attention to the killer below you, you land with a loud bang, and your injured leg collapses beneath you. In an instant, Ethan is plunging his knife into your stomach, a meek whine escaping your lips as you bend over his arm. Twisting his knife inside of you, your loud cru echoes through the theatre as tears threaten your eyes.

Finally, bringing your head up to look at the boy, his smile sent a shiver down your spine as your breathing became more and more laboured. Just as you thought your time was coming to an end, another figure comes falling down from above you.

It was Tara.

Before you can say anything, she lands on her feet with a knife in her hand. Catching Ethan off-guard, she grips his hair and rips his head back. Looking at her with his mouth open, she lifts up her knife and plunges it into the back of his throat. You can hear him gargling on his own blood as she twists the knife, blood splattering on her face.

"Now die a fucking virgin."

Pushing him so that he falls to the ground with a thud, Tara quickly averts her attention back to you, who, to her surprise, was wearing a smirk on her lips. "That was really hot." you chuckled in pain as she kneeled down next to you, noticing the knife was still in your abdomen.

"Shut up," she said before moving to lie you down. Knowing she was about to pull it out, you exhaled shakily before nodding at her, and just like you did Kirby, she pulled the knife out quickly, earning a pained groan from you, before immediately applying pressure to your wound.

Gently removing her hand from your stomach, you move to sit up and attempt to ignore how her hand is now stained with your blood. Making into an upright position, you look at Tara, who is scanning you for any other wounds, whilst you watch her face with a tender gaze.

The bang of a gunshot, followed by the thud of a body that vibrated the creaky floors above your head, brought you both back to the situation you were in. "Help me up," you say quickly, urgently trying to get up and help Sam, presuming it wasn't her body that you heard fall.

As Tara wrapped her arm around your waist gently, she pulled you to your feet; the faint sound of Sam's voice talking to someone calms your nerves. The throbbing from your bullet and stab wound was a rude awakening as to the shape you were in, not to mention the blood that covered almost every inch of your body.

Before the two of you could move towards the stairs, the sound of screaming rang through the theatre as you both looked up. Your jaw dropped. Bailey and Sam came flying over the railing before plummeting into the displays beneath them. As the glass shattered beneath them, you were quick to notice their lack of movement.

Pulling Tara off of you, you pushed her towards her sister. Running to her side, you hobbled as fast as you could towards them. Thankfully, Tara had managed to shake her awake by the time you got there. As she helped Sam to her feet, you sighed in relief as you looked over at a still motionless Bailey.

As the sisters check over each other, your sights remain on the unconscious killer in front of you. "What are we gonna do about him?" you ask, nodding your head in his direction.

You watch as the gears turn in Sam's head, weighing the options between ending it now and letting him die somewhat peacefully or giving him a taste of his own medicine.

She chose the latter.

Hidden behind the curtains on the side of the stage, you watched Bailey through a small slit, waiting for him to move in order to signal Sam that your plan was in action.

It was simple, really. Make him go crazy, and then you kill him.

After a few minutes, Bailey finally began to stir as he moved to sit up. You quickly poked your head around the corner into the hidden hallway, where Sam was standing in her father's costume; you gave her a nod before she pulled a phone out of her pocket and pulled it to her ear.

The sound of Bailey's phone ringing echoed through the now disturbingly quiet theatre. Repositioning yourself so that you can see him, you watch as he rapidly looks around him before standing and bringing his phone to his ear.

You can't hear what Sam is saying to him, but you watch him make his way to the stage as planned. "Oh yeah, what's that?" his voice grows louder as he finally appears on the stage.

Now, the fun part.

As planned, from your place on the ground, you reached your uninjured leg out and kicked a floorboard. Before you could even retract your leg, Bailey snapped towards the noise and fired two precise shots into the heads of the mannequins that lined the stage.

"You put on your true face, huh? Your birthright. Poetic that you're going to die in it…" Exhaling quietly as he spoke, you moved to a spot against a wall where you could relax your weakening body for a minute as Tara played her part.

A noise sounded from the other side of the stage. Closing your eyes as you leaned your head back onto the wall, you listened as Bailey once again flinched and fired his gun, this time the sound of shattering glass filling the stage.

"You know the truth now. Murder's in your blood."

It was your turn again. As quietly as you could in your state, you reached your arm over to the brick that Sam had given you. Picking it up, with the strength left in your arms, you threw it into the back corner of the stage, away from you.

The sound of Bailey's gun firing once again filled the air as he screamed frustratedly, "Stop fucking around and show yourself!". Knowing that it was Sam's turn, you quietly crawled towards the curtain, pulling it aside slightly so that you could peer through.

"I'm a fucking police officer! What are you gonna do, huh? Who do you think they're gonna believe?" he screams once again. A faint smile lands on your lips as you watch Sam appears behind him, wearing the mask and all. Before he even notices her presence, she quickly spins him around before, as you would put it, stabbing the shit out of him.

As crazy as it sounded to say, the sound of his screams was like music to your ears. His family had singlehandedly taken everything from you, so watching him suffer was like heaven to you.

Spotting Tara appear from behind her hiding spot and walking towards Sam, you decided to do the same. With a groan and the help of a wall, you pulled yourself to your feet before weakly hobbling out from your place behind the curtains.

As Sam finally stops stabbing him, and he pleads for his life, you watch with a mixture of admiration and concern, confused as to why she is giving him any chance to live.

She didn't entertain it for long.

"But you did fuck with my family, so…". You watch with wide eyes as Sam gruesomely stabs him straight in his eye, the blade clearly reaching his brain as he falls to the ground, twitching.

"Aw, now we're matching." you joke, earning a laugh from the girls as you look at the mutilated body of the once detective who now also had only one functional eye - had he been alive, that is.

"Let's get out of here," Tara says softly as she grasps your hand with hers. Her touch never fails to make you giddy, but something was off this time. As she tried to pull you towards the stairs off the stage, your head began to spin uncontrollably as a wave of nausea hit you like a truck.

Your legs collapse underneath you as Tara catches you, her face ridden with worry. "Y/n?!? Hey, you're okay, just breathe.". Your vision was fading in and out of a blur as the feeling of your limbs began to escape you. Sam kneels down on the other side of you, matching Tara's expression, as you try to nod to Tara's words.

"Yeah… I just… need a little break." Your eyes begin to flutter shut as you try your best to keep them open. "Keep your eyes open for me, okay," Tara speaks as calmly as she can as she notices the blood beginning to spill from your wounds again.

“Yeah… of course…”

Opening your eyes slowly, you groan softly as the bright light hanging above you stings your eyes. Carefully rubbing your eyes, still careful of your scar, you move to sit up slightly, noticing you are in an empty hospital room. Confusion washes over you, as last you remember, you were on a bloodied stage, and yet here you were.

Doing your best with your aching limbs, you move a pillow behind your back in order to give you a better view of your new environment, admittedly much nicer than your previous one.

Scanning the room, you notice the small TV in the corner of the room is playing The Babadook. You know you didn't put it on, so someone must be here, and it's not particularly hard to figure out who it must be.

With your attention focused on the screen, you fail to notice when Tara walks in the door with a bag of chips in her hand. As she notices your moving figure, a loud gasp escapes her lips. She drops everything in her hands to cover her mouth, her eyes immediately watering.

The sound makes you immediately turn to her, a smile growing on your lips as your eyes meet hers. As the fact that you are awake and alive sinks in, she runs over to the side of your bed and brings her hands up to your face.

Gently cupping your cheeks, her teary eyes look into yours as your hands gently grip her wrists. "Hi," you chuckle softly, the wave of relief finally hitting you. "Hi," she chuckles back even softer, her eyes scanning every detail of your face.

"Is everyone okay?" you ask with furrowed brows as she nods enthusiastically in response. "Yeah, yeah, we're all fine.". The sigh that escapes your lips rids your mending body stress, all of it melting away as soon as you know you have all made it.

Your eyes return to Tara's as she whispers softly, "I can't believe you're alive.". You smile sincerely at her words. "I'm not going anywhere." At your words, she lets go of your face and climbs onto your bed. Your eyes were filled with curiosity. You watch as she wraps her arms around your neck and buries her head in your shoulder.

Instantly reciprocating, you wrap your arms around her waist and hug her with all the strength you can muster. You can feel her tears falling onto your bare shoulder, entangling one of your hands in her hair as you gently play with her hair.

"We made it, Tara. We made it."

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