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letorip · 2 days ago

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can u give us a summary of kiss with a fist 4 without spoiling?

lol... here's a spoiler

kiss with a fist [iv]

"you smashed a plate over my head, then I set fire to our bed"

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pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: just as things begin to complicate even more between you and tara, her life becomes even more complicated

warnings: blood, angst, curse words, kissing, borderline sexual content

word count: 4.2k

A/N: i contemplated doing this in so many ways and i ended up thinking it was just funnier if i answered with the literal story. so... it was at least funny to me. it's shorter than normal, just because i didn't want to split up an action scene that'll take place next time, so expect a much longer part next time.

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===+++===

You didn’t like police stations very much, and you weren’t exactly doing a good job of keeping it hidden. Your knee bounced against the dusty linoleum in a quiet tapping noise, and although you yourself couldn’t hear it with the endless amount of phones ringing and shouting down the hall, Tara clearly could.

Her head rested on your shoulder, where you had slumped, and she placed a hand right upon your knee, stopping it from bouncing anymore. Her dark eyes looked up at you. “You’re making me even more nervous.”

“Sorry,” you rushed, quick to pull your knee away from her hand.

Tara frowned, looking back down to the tiling. “Of course this had to happen.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What do you mean?” She shrugged, and you had to nudge her gently. “Tara?”

“Nothing,” she murmured. "Just Sam's license and her getting attacked at the bodega... I wasn't there, (Y/n)."

"You couldn't have known," you said, frowning at her. "Everyone thought all the 'Stab' shit was over."

"Yeah," Tara scoffed. "Mindy always says lightning doesn't strike twice, but I'm starting to wonder if that's really true."

"Or maybe it's just a crazed copycat. There's no way of knowing it's actually after you yet."

"That's not what Sam'll say." She had an uncharacteristic look of defeat in her eyes that you hadn't seen before. Tara was a spitfire, even to Sam. But she looked beside herself, wallowing against the soft fabric of your jumper. "Sam'll say that Ghostface is back. That we need to leave."

"Maybe she's right," you shrug.

"Maybe," Tara said. "But I don't want to go. I don't want to leave. I want to live, but... if it's not him, I can't just keep living my life on the run from whoever's chasing me. That means Amber won."

"Amber?"

"Yeah... Amber. Amber Freeman. She was my, uh, girlfriend."

"Oh," you frown. Tara's dark eyes looked up at you, nervously watching your reaction.

"Yeah... and she was Ghostface."

"Oh," you repeated. Tara never spoke about her much, and neither had the rest of the core four, really. It had never really dawned on you to ask, just because it seemed important to Tara, and for the longest time, what was important to her wasn't important to you. "Are you still nursing that wound?" you asked.

She smiled, but it did not reach the corners of her eyes. "Sometimes. It feels weird since she almost killed me, but there are times I really miss her. Grief demands to be felt, and all."

"Even if it's a murderous psychopath?" you asked with a smile.

"Yeah," she snorted, turning her head on your shoulder. "Even if it's a murderous psychopath." Then, she grew serious. "We should probably talk about last night, right?"

You froze, swallowing what felt like a lump in your throat. "Uh, now?"

"Well, it's just, I kind of felt something... I don't know. I know we said this was fake and all, and I don't know if you have your eye on anyone else right now," Tara began to ramble, "so if you do, don't feel pressured to agree to anything. I know I kind of made a messy situation out of this, and I don't even know where to go--"

But she was interrupted by the door down the hall opening. It was loud enough that your attention was pulled towards it, and through it came a woman with a stack of files in her arm. She smiled warmly at Tara, walking right over, and Tara seemed to recognise her, sitting up in her chair.

The warmth on your chest where her head had been was gone in an instant, and you would have been lying if you said you hadn't selfishly begun to miss it.

"Tara, right?" the woman asked with a smile, and Tara nodded, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and an underlying suspicion. But the woman just gave her a gentle smile.

"Kirby," she said, extending her arm out for a handshake. "Kirby Reed. I used to go to high school with Sam, and now I'm with the FBI."

Your eyes widened. If the FBI were now involved with the case, it was definitely not a good sign. You felt Tara's hand go to yours, squeezing it. If you were to ask her about it, she'd likely say it was to calm the nervousness you hadn't been able to hide on your face, but you knew that it was to steady herself, if anything.

"FBI?" Tara asked. "So it's really him?"

Kirby frowned. "I'm hoping it's some copycat, but from what I've seen so far, I'm not too sure. Is Sam still back there being questioned?"

Tara nodded, grimacing. "Apparently, both of us are people of interest. Our roommate's dad is on the case."

"Well," Kirby said, "I'll see if I can help him." She turned to you. "And who's this?" she asked.

"Uh--" you started, but Tara shook her head, interrupting.

"--(Y/n) isn't involved," she glared, defending you with a ferocity in her voice.

Kirby gave you a look over. "Are you sure? I don't mean to disrespect either of you, but are you sure you can trust them, Tara? It's never who you expect."

Tara nods. "I know they're not Ghostface. (Y/n) wouldn't lie."

(Y/n) wouldn't lie. The sentence made you sick to your stomach. You could see Calvin in your mind, laughing at how you got yourself into this situation. Alisha would've found it funny, too. You swallowed, standing up from the chair. You smiled weakly at Tara. "It's okay, Tar. I'll go home... just let me know if you need to leave... for the... uh, arrangement, or whatever."

She nodded, mouth drawn into a line. "Yeah... see you later... Duck," she said, trying equally as hard to smile. You turned around, walking out.

===+++===

You had pretty much collapsed into bed, the moment you got home. It had been an exhausting few hours, what with finishing your model and then rushing with Tara to the police station. Your final class of the semester was later in the day, so you would take any sort of sleep you could get.

And the sleep you took, waking up a few hours later with mussed-up hair and a final to get over and done with. You grabbed the model and your backpack, heading for the train station, and finally checking your phone for the first time in a little while.

Little Shit (do not pick up): mindy wants everyone at the park later, after your final

Little Shit (do not pick up): good luck with that, btw

Little Shit (do not pick up): also we should still probably talk about last night i didn't get to finish earlier

You gave a thumbs-up to the first message, and quickly typed back a thanks, before tucking it into your pocket. The critique was boring, but you couldn't help but feel yourself swell with pride when your professor complimented the small amount of green space you had put within the actual walls of the building. It had been Tara's idea, and you reminded yourself to thank her later. Now all you had to do was go to Mindy's weird meeting, and you could begin your break.

The group was sitting on a group of benches near the green, with Mindy hovering over them, her arms crossed. When she saw you coming, she raised her eyebrow at you in suspicion. You rolled your eyes, coming to sit down next to where Tara had saved you a seat.

She sent you a small smile when you did, weaving your fingers together. You knew that to the group she was just doing it because you and Tara were allegedly a couple, but just to you it felt like so much more than that.

And it made you feel a little bit sick, again.

"How'd your final go?" she asked, and it made your heart stop for a moment, the way her warm brown eyes looked in the soft sunlight. You shrugged, but could not stop the smile spreading itself on your face.

"The professor liked your idea."

"Really?!" she asked, sounding super excited, and you nodded. "Well now who's silly, for telling me it was a bad idea?"

"Well because it is a silly idea, genuinely who would think of that."

"I would. It isn't silly, it's cool."

"I'm afraid cool doesn't always work, Tara."

"It did this time," she said smugly, sticking her tongue out at you. You rolled your eyes, knowing but not hating that she'd be gloating about it for weeks.

"Lovebirds, cut the chit-chat," Mindy shot, glaring in your direction, and Tara huffed in annoyance but begrudgingly turned towards her. "Now, as terrifying as it all is, I’m actually glad I get a chance to redeem myself for not calling the killers last time."

"Mindy," Sam chided, arms crossed over her chest.

"Right, sorry," she said. "The way I see it, someone’s out to make a sequel to the requel."

"What’s a requel?" Anika asked, leaning forward as if trying to understand her girlfriend's antics. You didn't know either.

"You’re beautiful, sweetie, but let’s hold questions to the end," Mindy teased.

From next to you, Tara looked more worried. "Stab 1 took place in Woodsboro, but Stab 2 took place in college…"

Sam tensed. "So you think the killer’s copying the second movie?"

"Like a homage!" Chad suggested, looking proud of himself. The rest of the group shot him a look. "What? You all I know took French, it should not be a surprise that I know that word."

"Just a little bit," Tara teased. He sent her a small smile, one that you knew came from his massive crush on her. It only made you feel a bit worse about the both of you.

"That’s one possibility," Mindy said, nodding at the suggestion. "Heroes now in college? Check. Suspicious new characters brought in to round out the suspect list and/or body count?" she looked at you, Ethan, Quinn, and Anika. "Check, check, check, and check."

"I really don't like this," Ethan said.

"But it can’t only be about Stab 2," Mindy continued. Tara's eyebrows furrowed.

"Why not?" she asked.

Mindy had a glint in her eye. "It would make sense if this were just a sequel. But we’re not in a sequel, because nobody just makes sequels anymore."

"So what is it?" you asked, deciding to bite on her theory.

"We’re in a franchise. And there are certain rules to a continuing franchise," she replied.

Sam sighed. "I had a feeling."

But Mindy wasn't deterred. "Now, rule one: everything is bigger than last time. Bigger budget, bigger cast, bigger body count; longer chases, shoot-outs, beheadings- you gotta top what came before to keep people coming back."

"Beheadings?" Chad asked, taking notes.

Next to him, Ethan looked rather lost. Quinn and Anika looked just as confused. You were glad you weren't the only one lacking a real understanding of how the core four operated. They had earned a right to be a little nuts after surviving Woodsboro, that you knew. But the whole thing seemed a bit conspiratorial.

"Rule Two, whatever happened before, expect the opposite. Franchises only survive by subverting expectations; if the killers last time were whiny snowflake film nerds with Letterboxd accounts instead of personalities, you can bet the opposite will be true here." It was hard to absorb these things laid out as facts, and you struggled to follow Mindy's train of thought, sending Anika a wary glance. She just shrugged.

Tara noticed your confusion, sending a small squeeze to your hand and mouthing the word 'later.' You nodded, turning your attention back to Mindy, attempting to do your best to listen.

"And Rule Three, no one is safe. Legacy characters are cannon fodder at this point, usually brought back only to be killed off in some cheap bid for nostalgia. Sidney’s smart to sit this one out, but it’s not looking too good for Gale and Kirby. And that’s not even the worst part."

"There's a worst part?" You asked. Mindy nodded, smirking.

"The worst part is franchises are just continuing episodic instalments designed to boost an IP, which means the main characters are completely expendable now too. Laurie Strode, Nancy Thompson, Ellen Ripley, Jigsaw, Tony Stark, James Bond, even Luke Skywalker all died so their franchises could live on. That means it’s not just the friend group, any of us could go at any time, especially Sam and Tara."

You sent Tara a wary look at the suggestion, leaning harder against her. She tried to send you a small smile to comfort you, but it did little to stop the thought coming to your mind. You were cursed, that much was true from the sheer amount of grief that seemed to permeate around your family. It was a bad idea, to get so close to Tara, and that you knew. But it didn't stop the fact that you had a near electric desire to do so whenever she was nearby.

"Wait, any of us? Am I in the friend group?" Ethan asked, beginning to panic. "Am I one of the targets? Am I gonna die a virgin?"

"Um," Mindy started, blinking. "Weird overshare, but at least that brings us to our current suspects." Her gaze steeled over.

"Ethan. The shy dorky guy who no one suspects, because he’s so shy and dorky." Next to him, Chad shot him a more assessing glance.

"Why am I on the list? Because I’m randomly Chad’s roommate?!" Ethan asked, raising his voice.

"Roommate lotteries can be juked, you could have fixed it to get next to us," Mindy shot back, crossing her arms in increased suspicion. She turned to Quinn. "Quinn. The slutty roommate. A horror movie classic."

"Sex positive," Quinn corrected, "but thank you."

"And how did you come to live with Sam and Tara?" Mindy asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I answered their ad online--" Quinn started, and Mindy scoffed, raising her hand up.

"Say no more, you’ve already implicated yourself enough. 'Ad online,' good lord."

"Mindy, it was an anonymous ad, and you know we vetted her, plus her Dad’s a cop," Tara interjected.

"Tara, Tara, Tara," Mindy said, shaking her head. "Cop Dad? That's a great cover. Don't you get that's how these movies would work? Speaking of, while we're on Tara," she continued, turning to you.

"Hi," you said.

"Hi (Y/n)," she replied, smiling. It dropped to a frown. Tara's grip on your hand tightened. "(Y/n). The enemies-to-lovers, quippy 'annoyance' one of our main characters has incredible sexual tension with."

"Ew," Sam shuddered.

"Ew indeed," Mindy agreed. "Never trust the love interest." She looked over to Anika, who was smiling at her girlfriend. "Ever." Anika's face fell.

"Okay. So we’ve got our rules, and we’ve got our suspects," Sam huffed.

"Wait- what about the rest of you?" Ethan interrupted.

"I mean, I think it’s safe to rule out the four of us who went through this last year in Woodsboro," Mindy shrugged.

"Agreed," Chad nods.

"Um, not agreed. Maybe the trauma of what you went through caused one or more of you to snap," Quinn suggested, playing with the nail polish on her fingers.

"Or the fame you got from the killings made you thirsty for more! Ethan jumped in again. "And, let’s be honest, some of those theories online about Sam are--"

Tara sends him a death glare. "Don'y you fucking dare finish that sentence."

"He’s right, though. Face facts. If we’re all suspects? You’re all suspects," Anika shrugs.

You sent a wary look around at everyone and then another look back down to Tara, wondering which one would hurt her, and just how you'd be able to stop it.

===+++===

That night was the first night in a while nothing was expected of you, but you couldn't find it in yourself to actually relax. Mindy's monologue about how royally bloody fucked everything was now that Ghostface was officially back had set you a bit on edge, and part of you couldn't help but blame yourself.

You had thought the curse would get left behind in Nebraska, when you left, but it seemed maybe you had taken it with you, packed with your belongings. Maybe it was now affecting the person you had wished to protect from any harm. It still felt miraculous, just how Tara had wormed her way from your shit list to deep within your heart. Maybe that was the curse. Someone who could make you so annoyed could also make you feel like your heart was skipping beats.

You coped with the extreme worrying through a cooked meal and TV binge, flopping down on the couch and turning your ringer on, in case you were needed. You knew that Sam and Tara were likely preparing for the worst, and you also knew that you had been included on the list of suspects.

Maybe none of them rightfully believed you had it in you, but you also knew that even being a possibility meant that the core four had to keep you at arm's length for a while.

Or, at least, that's what you figured they'd do.

Right as the episode you were watching began to roll credits, you heard a hard knock on the door, freezing. Mindy had said something in a text, telling you to be cautious of opening doors when no one was scheduled to come over. You shot a wary look to your magnetic strip of knives, hanging over the hotplate. If you were just fast enough, maybe you could grab a knife or two, if Ghostface busted the door in. There was usually a phone call, wasn't there? Then why--

"(Y/n)?" Tara called, giving a hard knock. You felt your cheeks flush. Oh. You dashed to the door, not wanting to leave her on the step for too long.

When you opened it, you could see that Tara's own cheeks were flushed, and her chest was rising and falling rapidly.

"Did you run here???" you asked, raising your eyebrows.

"Uh...maybe," Tara said, suddenly finding the hallway outside of your flat much more interesting.

"I thought Sam would have you under lock and key," you teased.

"I snuck out..." Tara said, cheeks flushing again, but this time not from the run.

"Oh, so I'm harbouring a criminal?" you joked. Tara rolled her eyes, groaning.

"Can I just come in?"

"Do you trust me to do that?" you asked, curious. "I understand if you say no, believe me I get it. If I had been attacked or anything, especially by my girlfriend, I wouldn't trust anyone for a long time..."

Tara watched you ramble speak, eyes wide and dark and beautiful in the dim hall light. "I trust you... and I, uh, want some small amount of normalcy, like it was at the lab. Before everything got so weird, you know?"

You nodded, stepping aside for her to enter and then freezing. "Wait, Tara, what happened to your hand?"

You hadn't noticed until now, but her knuckles on the other hand had been bruising a dusty purple colour, still red at the edges. You let the door shut behind you, turning to her hand and holding it up in the lamplight of your hall. "What happened?" you asked, eyebrows furrowing in worry.

Tara's cheeks flushed again. "I punched a bitch," she said flatly. Your eyes widened even more, and Tara was quick to shake her head. "Just Gale Weathers. She wrote, uh, a whole book on Woodsboro. Called Sam a bunch of bad stuff. She actually was outside the station with the news and stuff when Sam was questioned earlier today... so I punched her."

You snorted. "Judging by your hand you definitely got her."

"Oh absolutely," Tara scoffed, as if she was offended by a possibility that she hadn't.

"You should probably ice it," you said with a wince, looking at the bruised skin. She scoffed again.

"What're you, a doctor?"

You shrugged, leading her into your kitchen. "I was going to be."

"Oh," Tara hummed.

"Yeah... took one introductory class and realised I hated it. It sucks too, because I gave my parents this whole speech about how I wanted to be a doctor because of our family, and I dropped the profession about a month or two later afterwards."

"Is that why you and your dad don't talk much?" she asked. "Is he a doctor?"

"No," you said, shaking your head. It was an amusing suggestion. "About as far as you could get from it, actually. But no, it isn't why we don't really talk." You didn't say any more on the subject, even though you could tell that Tara was curious. "We should really get you iced up, your hand is swollen, I can't believe you didn't show me this earlier."

She rolled her eyes. "You're acting like my parent again."

"I'm just worried about you, Tara," you said, shooting her a meaningful look. She was staring up at you with those damn eyes again like you held her heart in your hands. "I mean, come on, let's just put a bag of ice on it or something, or--"

But before you could finish what you were suggesting, Tara interrupted you, throwing her arms around your neck and standing up on her toes. "Is this okay?" she whispered, voice low. It flooded your ears and squeezed the air from your lungs, just how close her lips were from yours.

You can't help the small nod, or the way you're probably dumbly staring at her mouth right now, but her eyes are warm and inviting, and your hands find their way to her waist, palming at the exposed skin of her cropped shirt with your thumbs. "I've, uh, kind of wanted to do this for weeks," Tara admits with a small grin. The words spin around and around in your mind like you're on some carousel of thought.

If you could have formed words, you would have told her the truth: you had wanted to kiss her since she walked in the room and you saw her for the first time. But you can't. So instead, you crash your lips onto hers.

Tara doesn't hesitate even a little bit, wrapping her arms around your neck and falling off her toes as she kisses you back with fervour. You follow her down, working your lips against hers as her hands give up on your neck and instead move to spread themselves out on the warm apples of your cheeks.

You're taken over by some other, hungry entity entirely, and you lift Tara up onto the kitchen counter, into the exact same place she was sitting when she asked you for help with this stupid scheme. It doesn't matter now, you're too lost in her lips. You feel her tongue push past and into your mouth, and her hands travel up your back to spread out against the back of your shirt and pull you against her.

You can't help the groan that escapes your mouth, and you feel Tara's teasing smile against your lips as she breathes in your smell. Your hands are still on her waist, sliding up so that your thumbs gently brush against the bottom of her bra. She shudders at the sensation, opening her mouth wider, and you can taste the lingering cherry of her chapstick on her lips.

Neither of you is especially sure how long you stay there, but when you finally have to pull away, you're scrambling for air. You lazily let your forehead rest against hers, catching your breath and struggling to stay on your feet. Tara lets her hands wander from your back into your hair, exploring the planes of your body for the first time, and you can't stop the small comment that worms its way from your mouth after.

"Exploring the merchandise?" you ask with a teasing, breathless laugh. Tara shakes her head, finally opening her eyes and looking up at you with that same damn beautiful look.

"You should come stay with me and the others. It's safer that way," she says, becoming worried again. Her hands rest on your cheeks and she kisses you again, softer, but just as meaningful.

You painfully have to shake your head. "I can't, you know that."

"I won't be mad if you leave town," she says. "I won't hold it against you."

You smile. "I'm not leaving. I'm not going anywhere, Tara."

She nods, processing it, before crashing her lips back onto yours and tugging at the bottom of your shirt, but you catch her hands before she can tug it over your head. "No, Tara- Tara wait."

"I want you," she says.

"I know, but we should wait," you say, hands on the side of her thighs. "Wait until it's over. Right now, Ghostface is more important."

"He gets everything, (Y/n). I just want this. I want you. I know we did this whole thing about fake dating, and I know it wasn't real, but I realise that I want it to be. I just want you."

There's a burning in your stomach, burning for her, and you pull her in for another kiss. Only to be stopped by the sound of your door creaking open.

You freeze and so does Tara at the noise. "(Y/n)?" she asks, trembling. "Did you lock your front door?"

===+++===

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN catch you all next time for a big ole action sequence and a whole bunch of drama

#letorip #answered #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter

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