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idkdudethisisntpermanent · 2 months ago

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Keep Your Eyes on Me - pt.ii

tara carpenter x female reader

part i | part ii

summary: Tara begins to question her own emotions, especially when the thought of losing Y/n's attention unexpectedly stirs something deeper.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: slight violence

————

"Is Y/n dying?" Mindy asks with genuine curiosity looking back at you and Tara. "What the fuck is wrong with her face?"

The five of you had just gotten off the subway and exited the station, but your mind was still stuck a few moments behind. Tara had wrapped her arm around yours and spoken the five words that made your heart skip a beat: Keep your eyes on me.

Since then, you hadn’t been able to function. Stiff as a board, your brain was in a daze, replaying those words over and over. Now, you were walking aimlessly, arm-in-arm with Tara, trailing behind Mindy, Chad, and Sam, who were a good distance ahead.

"I think it might have something to do with Tara," Chad chimes in, glancing back at you both.

That comment got Sam's attention and she finally turned to see what was happening. "Yikes she does look—hold on why would Tara be responsible for whatever is going on with Y/n's face?" She asks with a raised brow, looking at the twins genuinely confused.

"Look at her arm," Chad says, pointing at Tara. "It’s wrapped around Y/n’s."

"She's looking up at her like Y/n put the stars in the sky," Mindy laughs.

Sam squints her eyes still confused. "So? Tara's finally warming up to Y/n. I spoke to her a few weeks ago about how Y/n is good for her."

"Her arm is around Y/n's," Chad states again with more emphasis.

"I hold my friends by their arm all the time," Sam shrugs like it's no big deal.

"Oh honey... did you say friends?" Mindy says gently wrapping her arm around Sam's shoulders like she was trying to soften the blow. "You know Y/n has the hots for your sister right?"

Sam wasn't stupid. There was instances in the last six months where the thought had crossed her mind. The way you always glanced at Tara after one of Mindy’s outrageous jokes, just to see her reaction. The way you went silent every time Tara got too close. The way your cheeks flushed crimson whenever Tara did something particularly sweet or kind.

Sam sighs. Deep down, she knew. The way you were attentive to Tara wasn’t just friendly—it was something more.

When she’d encouraged Tara to give you a chance, it wasn’t about dating—it was about letting someone in, letting someone care for her. But now, watching you and Tara in this new light, the possibility of her little sister entering her first relationship suddenly felt real.

That’s what unnerved her. Not you, specifically. She liked you. And if anyone was going to date Tara, she was glad it would be you.

"Don’t worry, Sam," Chad says, trying to reassure her. "Y/n’s a total dork. She can’t even admit to herself that she likes Tara. She just genuinely cares about her, even if she only gets to do that as a friend."

"Dude," Mindy cuts in, laughing so hard she’s clutching her stomach, "you literally helped Y/n get into your sister’s pants!"

“You gave Y/n first class tickets to take your sister to Pound town!” she adds in between laughs.

Chad groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Why are you like this?"

Sam felt her blood run cold. She changed her mind—maybe she did have a problem with you.

————

Meanwhile, about twenty steps behind the group, the younger Carpenter sister was freaking out for a completely different reason.

Sure, she hadn’t expected to enjoy the feeling of her hand resting on your bicep this much. That was its own problem. But what was really throwing her off was the deafening silence. Why weren’t you saying anything?

She’d called your name a few times now, but you hadn’t so much as blinked in response. She considered taking her arm away. Maybe she’d overstepped. It had been a bold move—not just saying what she did but closing the space between you two like this.

It was a stark contrast from what's the usual between you two—her throwing violent insults your way, half the time just to see how you’d react.

Okay maybe it makes sense why you weren't responding. Still, was it too much to ask for a little reaction?

Fearing she’d made you uncomfortable, Tara began to pull her arm away.

"No! Wait—" you blurt out, snapping out of your daze at the loss of contact. The words hang in the air, and the realization of what you just said slaps you in the face. Your face flushes red. "I mean—wait, not no! You can keep your hands to yourself if you want!" you stammer, awkwardly backpedaling as you take a step closer to the road to create a distance between you two.

She just told you that you can keep your eyes on her and you told her she can keep her hands to herself.

In that moment, you’d honestly prefer to be hit by a car than embarrass yourself any further in front of Tara.

You brace yourself, expecting her to roll her eyes, to call you an imbecile, to tell you to get over yourself. Maybe she’d point out that she doesn’t need you to give her permission to keep her hands to herself—that she has full autonomy. Or worse, she’d say something cutting, like how she’d never touch you in a million years, even though she was the one who had grabbed your arm in the first place.

But instead, she laughs.

And it’s not a mean laugh. It’s soft, warm, and unexpectedly genuine, catching you completely off guard.

Not that you were complaining, but

What the fuck is she doing?

————

"What the fuck am I doing?" Tara mumbles to herself.

“That’s what I want to know,” Mindy fires back with a teasing smirk, leaning closer to Tara who was seated across her on the table.

Fortunately for you, soon after you heard the melodic sound of Tara’s laugh that made your brain short-circuit, the bar you were all heading to came into view giving you the perfect excuse not to dwell on it—or, more accurately, to avoid melting into a puddle of feelings. For the first time ever, Tara had laughed because of something you did, and the thought alone made your heart do a happy little somersault.

Upon entering the dive bar, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom while the rest of the group found a table to be seated at. Thankfully, the bathroom was empty, so you were able to think out loud.

��What even is my life right now?” you muttered to yourself as you leaned over the sink with a goofy smile. Catching your reflection in the mirror, your face was beet fucking red. Oh no. Did Tara notice how red you were? You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

How did things change so fast? How had it gone from her hating your guts, calling you Ghostface at every opportunity, and throwing insults your way—barely even sparing you a glance—to this?

Mindy had told you to stop chasing Tara, to ignore her, to let her come to you. You’d managed to stick to that advice for maybe an hour, and somehow, this was where it got you.

Not that you were complaining—oh, you definitely weren’t—but wow, this was a lot to handle. Your heart felt like it might burst from how warm and fluttery it was. Tara was kind of adorable… and terrifying. Mostly adorable. Okay, maybe all adorable.

"Fuck, this girl is going to be the death of me."

————

Outside, Mindy, Chad, and Tara stayed at the table while Sam headed to the bar to scope out the scene.

"Sooo… did I just see you holding Y/n’s arm?" Mindy asked, probing Tara for more answers.

Tara groaned dramatically before dropping her head onto the table with a quiet thud. "Yes," she mumbled, her voice muffled against the surface.

"What the hell happened in the two weeks we didn't hang?" Chad questions. "You couldn't stand her last time we hung out. And you're pulling the Carpenter rizz?"

"I don’t know!" Tara whined, her words still muffled by the table." Sam talked to me okay? And I guess I was being harsh to Y/n."

"Uh-huh, sure," Mindy replied, her grin widening. "But that still doesn’t explain why you were holding her arm. That’s a huge leap from ‘I hate Y/n, she’s totally Ghostface,’ to... this." Mindy explained, clearly enjoying the situation.

"Unless," Chad cut in, his grin matching Mindy’s as he wiggled his eyebrows, "there was always some hidden feelings under your 'supposed' hatred for her..."

Tara’s face shot up from the table, bright red as she glared at them. "There are no hidden feelings!"

Mindy gasped, clutching her chest like she’d uncovered a scandal. "Oh my God, there totally is! Admit it, Tara—you’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time!"

"Absolutely not!" Tara protested, her voice climbing an octave.

"You have," Chad teased, leaning closer with a conspiratorial whisper. "And you loved it."

Tara groaned again, hiding her face in her hands, as Mindy and Chad erupted into laughter.

"Shut up!" Tara muttered, but the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips betrayed her completely. She sighed, trying to compose herself. "I don't like her like that, okay? She was just ignoring me today, and... I guess it sucked not having her care about me like she usually does," she mumbled, hoping the explanation would get the twins off her back.

"Yeah, that makes sense," Mindy replied casually to Tara’s surprise. Well, that was easy.

But then Mindy smirked, leaning back in her chair. "So, it shouldn’t bother you that Y/n’s getting hit on at the bar right now, huh?"

Tara froze. "What?" she snapped, whipping her head around so fast it was a miracle she didn’t pull something. Her eyes darted frantically toward the bar. "Where is she?"

The brunette turned back around so Mindy could answer her, and that’s when she realized—she’d walked right into her trap.

Mindy burst into laughter, slapping the table. "Oh my God, you’re so obvious!"

Tara frowned and crossed her arms as Chad joined in on the laughter, both of them clearly enjoying how flustered she’d become.

————

You finally leave the bathroom once you feel like you can function like a normal human being again. It doesn’t take long to spot your friends at their table—sometimes, you swear you have a built-in Tara radar, always able to sense exactly where she is.

As you make your way over, your eyes are drawn to her, bathed in the soft red glow of the bar lights. She looks stunning, her features highlighted by the warm hue. She’s speaking animatedly to the twins, her hands flying up to cover her face in between bursts of conversation, a mix of shyness and excitement that makes her even more captivating.

Sometimes you wish you weren't the awkward human you were, and met Tara in better circumstances. A world where Ghostface didn't exist as well. Maybe then—maybe then you two could be something?

Your heart leapt at the thought. And you felt almost guilty for thinking the way you do. You never wanted it to seem like you only treated Tara with kindness because you had some sort of ulterior motive. It made you feel guilty. But it was getting difficult denying it any further. Maybe it was seeing her in this setting, so relaxed, so beautiful—maybe it was her touch and words earlier that sealed your fate.

But all you wanted right now was to slide into that booth beside her, feel her hand on your arm again, and be the person she could lean on.

You really liked Tara.

And you also really needed a drink.

————

"Okay, hold on—help me out here," Mindy says, holding her hands up. "If you do have some kind of interest in her, then why, and I say this with love, were you such a massive dick to her?"

Tara groans, letting her head drop back dramatically against the booth. "I wasn’t trying to be! It just... happened," she mumbles, rubbing her hands over her face, as if she could wipe away the embarrassment. "I don’t know, okay? She just gets under my skin. She’s so infuriatingly... nice. And smug. And—"

"Hot?" Chad offers with a teasing grin, earning a glare from Tara.

"I wasn’t going to say that!" Tara snaps defensively, though the red creeping up her neck betrays her.

Mindy snorts. "Oh, sure. That’s why you grabbed her arm like she was the last person on Earth. Real subtle Carpenter."

Tara exhales hard, crossing her arms and slouching down in her seat. "I didn’t plan that, okay? She was ignoring me. I didn’t like it. And I panicked."

Chad raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with that smug big-brother energy. "Sooo, you panicked and held her arm? You panic-flirted?"

"I did not panic-flirt!" Tara protests, sitting up straighter, her voice pitching higher with frustration.

"You so panic-flirted," Mindy grins, leaning closer. "Face it, T. You’ve got it bad. I mean, you did just admit you didn’t like her ignoring you. That’s classic 'please-pay-attention-to-me' behavior."

Tara opens her mouth to argue, but freezes. She can’t deny that part—because it’s true. Too true. She didn’t like the way you’d suddenly stopped caring, stopped looking her way like you always did. It left her feeling... off-balance.

"Fine," she mutters, looking away as her fingers trace patterns on the table. "Maybe I didn’t hate it when she cared."

Chad and Mindy exchange a glance before turning back to her with matching smirks.

"Uh-huh," Mindy drawls. "And maybe you didn’t hate holding her arm."

Tara groans again, sinking lower into the booth like she could disappear into the cushions. "I really need you both to shut up right now."

"Why am I getting interrogated? And more importantly, where are the drinks? Sam? Y/n?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

————

You weave your way through the crowd, finally making it to the bar, where you flag down the bartender and order a drink—something strong to calm the storm brewing inside of you. Taking a seat, you take a deep breath, letting the hum of the bar settle around you.

"Another round," a familiar voice says beside you, and you turn your head to find Sam, casually gesturing for the bartender to line up several drinks. You blink, surprised.

"Sam?" you ask, brow furrowing. "What are you doing?"

Sam doesn’t look at you as she responds, eyes focused ahead, her tone completely serious. “Mourning.”

You stare at her, processing. “Mourning?” you repeat, confused. “Who… who died?”

Sam finally turns to you, expression deadpan. “My baby sister.”

You freeze, mouth opening slightly as your brain short-circuits. “Tara? Tara died?” you ask, voice rising in disbelief as you whip your head toward the booth where Tara is very clearly alive and animated, still talking to the twins.

Sam sighs dramatically, shaking her head. “Not literally. Spiritually. She’s about to get into her first relationship.”

Your face contorts into the human equivalent of the surprised Pikachu meme. “Her what now?”

Sam gives you a look, like you should already know. “Oh, don’t play dumb. You’re the relationship.”

You nearly choke on your drink, sputtering. “Me?!”

“Yes, you,” Sam replies matter-of-factly, grabbing one of the drinks the bartender sets down but not leaving just yet. She leans against the bar, eyeing you like she’s assessing your soul. “And don’t make that face. You’re the one she’s been all smiley and weird about lately.”

You blink at her, utterly lost. “Smile-y? Weird? What—Tara doesn’t even like me like that.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really,” you insist, though your voice wavers slightly.

Sam just smirks, sipping one of the drinks slowly. “You’re even worse at lying than you are at hiding how red your face is right now.”

Your hand flies to your cheek like you can stop the blush burning there. “It’s the bar lights!” you blurt defensively. “They’re red. They make everything red.”

"But I'm not lying I swear! She hates me remember? I'm supposedly Ghostface?" You ramble, trying to jog Sam's memory, because what in the world is she talking about. Tara likes you?

Sam chuckles under her breath, shaking her head. “You’re a mess.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, sinking further into yourself before glancing up at her. “But seriously… what do you mean me? I thought you were mourning because of some jerk she’s into—”

“Oh, I still think you’re a jerk,” Sam interrupts, though there’s a teasing glint in her eye now. “But you’re a tolerable one.”

You blink again, confused. “I’m… tolerable?”

“For now,” Sam confirms, narrowing her eyes at you in a way that makes you feel like you’re back in high school, being questioned by a teacher. “But listen to me, Y/n—I don’t care how flustered you get or how much you like her, I’m watching you. If you so much as make her frown, I’ll know. You’ll regret it.”

The seriousness of her tone makes you sit up a little straighter, but there’s still something soft in the way she says it—like, beneath the overprotective big-sister act, Sam really does care.

“I wouldn’t do that,” you say quietly, surprising even yourself with how genuine you sound. “I’d never hurt her. Ever.”

Sam studies you for a long moment, like she’s trying to read the truth straight from your eyes. Finally, she gives a small nod, satisfied. “Good. Because she deserves someone who looks at her like she’s the best thing to ever happen to them.”

Your heart stutters at her words, and you look down at your drink, trying not to smile too obviously. “I already do,” you admit softly, almost to yourself.

Sam pauses, her expression softening ever so slightly. “Yeah. That’s what worries me,” she mutters, more to herself than to you, but before you can ask what she means, she straightens up. “Now come on. I’m not carrying all these drinks by myself.”

You blink up at her, still a little dazed by the conversation, but you quickly grab a couple of glasses and stand up to follow Sam back toward the table.

But as you rose, the sudden sound of shattering glass and the murmur of rising voices pull your attention toward the commotion. A crowd begins to form in the center of the bar, the tension thickening with every heated word exchanged. It’s only when the circle shifts slightly that you spot her—Tara, her small frame squared off against a guy who looks a little too angry for the situation, and a girl glaring daggers at her.

You and Sam exchange a glance before rushing over, the protective instinct in both of you kicking in instantly.

“Look, I said I’d buy you another drink,” Tara says, her tone calm but laced with frustration.

“Yeah, well, maybe watch where you’re going next time dumbass,” the guy snaps, his voice dripping with condescension.

“Okay then maybe don’t stand in the middle of the fucking bar like a human traffic cone,” Tara bites back, her words sharper than you’ve ever heard from her.

The guy’s girlfriend steps in, practically seething. “Who do you think you are? Bumping into him like a slut and then acting like it’s his fault? God, you’re so full of yourself!”

Tara rolls her eyes. “Trust me, I do not want your man. This isn’t that deep.”

The guy snickers, leaning closer to Tara. “Yeah, right. With that attitude? You’d be lucky if anyone wanted you.”

You feel your chest tighten with anger, but you force yourself to take a deep breath. You step forward, hands up in a gesture of peace, trying your best not to escalate things.

“Hey, let’s all just calm down,” you say, your voice cracking slightly under the pressure. “I’ll get you a drink, okay? On me. No big deal.”

The guy turns to you, sizing you up before sneering. “Who the hell are you? Her little lapdog?”

That stings more than you’d care to admit, but before you can respond, he takes a step closer to Tara, clearly trying to intimidate her. Tara doesn’t back down, her glare unwavering, but his shoulder roughly “brushes” against hers in what’s definitely not an accident.

The nudge sends Tara stumbling backward, but thankfully, she lands against Sam, who steadies her instantly.

And that’s when all hell breaks loose.

Something snaps inside you, and before you can think it through, your fist is already flying. It connects with the guy’s jaw, sending him reeling back a step. The bar erupts in gasps and shouts as the guy recovers, glaring at you with fire in his eyes.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he growls, lunging at you.

Chaos ensues. Tables scrape against the floor as people back away, forming a wide circle. You’re barely aware of Sam pulling Tara further back, her voice sharp as she tells her to stay put.

The guy swings at you, but you dodge, adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I was trying to be nice!” you shout, your voice somehow still awkward despite the situation. “But nooo, you had to go and—”

His next punch grazes your shoulder, and you retaliate, landing another hit square in his side.

“Y/n!” Tara’s voice cuts through the noise, and for a split second, you falter, glancing in her direction.

That’s all the guy needs to get a cheap shot in, his fist connecting with your stomach. You stumble back, the wind knocked out of you, but you manage to stay on your feet steadying yourself by having your palm planted on a nearby table.

Unfortunately luck wasn't on your side, and the table had a broken bottle on it, the jagged glass slices into your palm. You wince, but thankfully, the chaos around you masks the pain, and no one notices it.

Suddenly, Chad steps in between you and the guy, his broad frame blocking any further blows. “Alright, enough,” he says, his voice firm, but not without a hint of warning. “You don’t want to take this any further bro. Trust me.”

Before the guy can respond, Sam steps in too, her hand flashing a taser from her waistband, her expression icy cold. “I suggest you walk away,” she says, her voice steady and threatening. “Unless you want to leave here with more than just a bruised ego.”

The guy hesitates, clearly debating whether to push his luck. But the bartender steps in then, a burly man who looks like he’s seen his fair share of bar fights. “Alright, that’s enough!” he barks. “You—out. Now.”

The guy glares at you one last time before grabbing his girlfriend’s arm and storming out, muttering curses under his breath.

As the crowd disperses and the bar settles back into its usual hum of activity, you turn to Tara, who’s staring at you with wide eyes.

“You okay?” you ask, your voice hoarse.

She nods, her gaze softening as she takes a step closer to you. “Are you?”

You wince, clutching your stomach. “I’ll live. But, uh, maybe next time, don’t antagonize the guy holding the drink?”

Tara scoffs but smiles faintly. “Maybe next time, don’t throw punches for me.”

Sam snorts, crossing her arms. “No, by all means, keep throwing punches. Just learn to dodge better.”

You laugh weakly, glancing between the two Carpenter sisters. “Noted. So… anyone else need a drink, or is it just me?”

Tara shakes her head, her smile growing, her face red. “It’s just you. But… thanks. For standing up for me.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words, and despite the ache in your hand, you can’t help but smile back. “Anytime.”

You catch Tara glancing at you, her expression softer then ever, and for a moment, she seems to be looking at you like she’s seeing something more than the awkward dork you think you are.

And in that instant, she can’t help but think you're even more amazing than she already knew. But before she can fully process it, Chad suddenly approaches, glancing at your hand, his face faltering in concern.

“Hey, are you good?” he asks, his eyes scanning your hand. “You look like you're in pain.”

You wince, still trying to play it off as no big deal. But Chad catches sight of the blood trickling from the glass cut on your palm, and his eyes widen. "Holy shit, dude, we need to take you to a hospital."

You shake your head quickly, your voice still a little shaky. “It’s just a scratch, really. I’ll be fine.”

But Tara, her brows furrowing in concern, steps forward, and glances at your hand and gasps. “That’s not just a scratch,” she insists, her voice filled with worry. “You’re bleeding bad. Get up—Mindy call an Uber.”

You open your mouth to protest again, "No hospital, I'm fine I just need a first aid kit." Sam steps in with a calm, no-nonsense tone. “On it, I'll ask the bartender.”

Tara, who’s been silently observing the whole time, takes charge. Her voice is soft but firm as she grabs the first-aid kit from Sam’s hands once she rejoins the group. “I’ll do it,” she says, her gaze never leaving yours. “You’ve done enough tonight. Let me take care of you.”

Mindy, who’s been watching the exchange with a smirk, suddenly chimes in, a teasing edge to her voice. “Look at you, Y/n. Who knew you had this much of a protective streak? Tara’s got you all worried, huh?”

You feel your face flush, but before you can respond, Tara shakes her head at Mindy’s comment, her worry deepening. “She’s hurt, Mindy. It’s not funny.” Her voice softens as she turns back to you, “You’re really gonna be okay, right? I— I don’t want you to be hurt.”

You can see how much she cares, and it makes your chest tighten with emotions. Tara’s usually so tough, so guarded, but right now she’s nothing but concerned.

You try to reassure her, even though the tenderness in her gaze makes it hard to keep your cool. “I’m fine, really. You don’t have to worry so much.”

But Tara doesn’t seem convinced, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I can’t help it,” she admits softly, her voice almost a whisper. "I care."

The weight of her words lingers in the air, and for a moment, everything feels a little clearer between you two. Tara doesn’t just care for your safety—she cares about you.

She gently guides you to an empty booth, pulling you away from the noise and chaos of the bar. It’s just the two of you now, in your own little corner of the world. You slide into one side of the booth while she settles on the other, a table separating you, but it somehow feels closer than ever.

The silence stretches between you both, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. You hold your hand out toward her, palm facing up, your fingers trembling slightly from the sting. Tara’s gaze softens when she sees the injury, and with a quiet sigh, she reaches for the first-aid kit.

Her movements are slow, deliberate, as she opens the kit, pulling out antiseptic and gauze. You watch her, your heart pounding for reasons you can’t quite explain. She carefully dabs the cotton swab in the antiseptic, then presses it gently to the cut. You wince, a sharp sting jolting through your palm.

“Sorry,” Tara murmurs, her voice low and soothing. She frowns, her brows knitting together in concentration as she takes more care, dabbing at the wound more carefully this time. “I’m trying to be gentle. You’re not a fan of this whole ‘injured’ thing, huh?”

You chuckle softly, still feeling the burn of the antiseptic. “Nope. Not my favorite thing," your voice coming out a little more awkward than you intended.

"I can't believe a dork like you got in a fight."

You let out a small laugh, trying to hide the fact that her words have made your heart race. “I’m not a dork,” you protest weakly.

Tara raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eye. “Really? Because I could’ve sworn you were about to pass out the second I touched your hand.”

You blush even harder. Tara’s smile is warm, genuine, and it makes the sting of the antiseptic a little easier to bear.

“It’s not the touch,” you mumble, “it’s just... you’re too close.”

She laughs softly, a sound that makes your heart flutter. “Yeah? Guess I’ll just have to keep getting closer, then.”

Her words, teasing as they are, send a warmth rushing through you. You try to play it cool, but inside, you’re an absolute mess. The way she cares for you, even in such a simple moment, makes everything feel... different. It’s like a tiny shift in the air, making you want to stay in this little bubble of quiet with her forever.

Tara looks up at you, the gears turning in her head. Was she being unfair right now? Giving you mixed signals.

She continues cleaning the wound, but now with even more care. She choses her next words carefully not wanting to sour the mood, “I'm really sorry for how I treated you. I think with everything that happened last year, I was scared to let new people in, and so I was wary of you even though you’ve been nothing but amazing to me. I guess I just had my guard up and it was unfair and—"

"I know Tara, I forgive you don't worry," you smile at her. And its pure and genuine, and Tara knows that you mean that whole heartedly.

As Tara finishes bandaging the cut on your palm, she gently flips your hand over to check for any other injuries. Her fingers graze across the back of your hand, and she notices the bruised knuckles. For a split second, she pauses, her breath catching in her throat.

Her eyes linger on your hand—on the faded bruise, evidence of the fight you’d just gotten into—and for some reason, she can’t help but think it’s... hot. The way your hand looks, bruised but still strong, it makes something in her chest tighten. You got into a fight for her.

She quickly shakes her head, trying to push the thought away, but it lingers. What the hell is wrong with me? she thinks, her face flushing slightly. Tara quickly looks up at you, trying to mask her sudden embarrassment with a forced nonchalance. But you're just sat there beaming at her, telling her its okay for how she treated you in the past, that you forgive her.

Suddenly, Tara couldn’t just take it anymore. The way you were looking at her, so soft, so genuine, made her heart flutter in a way she couldn’t ignore. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and then, without warning, she leaned forward, her eyes locking with yours.

“You know,” she started, her voice low and teasing, “Mindy said you were incapable of acting first.”

You blinked, confusion flashing across your face. “What?” you asked, not sure where she was going with this.

Tara smirked, clearly amused. “And that if I wanted something to happen, I’d have to be the initiator.”

You furrowed your brow, still not understanding. “What are you talking about?”

Tara’s smile widened, and she leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping even lower. “I find that hard to believe, given how you just got in a fight for me. I know there’s a little boldness in you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, and before you could even process what she was saying, she added, “But I guess so do I.”

Without warning, Tara reached across the table, her hand grabbing the front of your shirt. You froze, your breath catching as she pulled you closer, her face just inches from yours. Your heart raced as she leaned in, and then—before you could even think—her lips were on yours.

It was soft, tentative at first, like she was testing the waters. But then it deepened, and everything around you seemed to fade away. The kiss was warm, gentle, but there was an undeniable intensity to it, as if she was pouring everything she felt into that moment. Your uninjured hand instinctively reached for hers, feeling the pulse of her heartbeat against your fingertips.

When the kiss finally broke, both of you pulled away, breathless. Tara’s eyes were wide, a soft blush coloring her cheeks as she looked at you, her lips still tingling from the kiss.

You blinked, your mind racing, and then you couldn’t help but grin, a nervous laugh escaping you. “Damn... I should’ve gotten into a fight a lot sooner.”

Tara rolled her eyes, but her smile was all warmth, and you could see in her eyes that there was something deeper. Something unspoken, but undeniable.

Something that was always there.

Taglist: @cobaltperun @machyishere @freakshow2501 @nwestra @mcchicken88 @101rizzlrr @snowdrop1026 @ilovesneezing069 @btay3115 @burntoutghost

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denwritesandcries · 4 months ago

Text

Fall(ing for You) – S.C

Pairing: sam carpenter x soft goth!reader

Summary: Sam is certain that Tara's new quiet friend may turn out to be Ghostface, unfortunately – or not –, that friend is you.

or, it takes the help of tara and a dog for sam to finally come to her senses.

Word count: 6,0k.

Content: scream 6 but without the killing, r's 23, cursing, wingman tara ft. yr dog, jokes abt r being ghostface, fluff, pining, sam falling first AND harder, silly movie references.

Note: hey guys, It's been a while since I've written for scream but I rewatched it recently and finally got some inspiration again! I describe the reader a little more in this but it won't really affect anything if you choose to ignore it.

English is not my first language.

Tara made a new friend.

Sam still isn't sure exactly, but the only plausible explanation for the way Tara has been acting lately is that her sister met someone interesting enough to keep her attention so that she gave everyone a break from her tantrums and reckless behavior since their new start outside of Woodsboro.

Now, that could be a good thing, it had been months since the kids started college and they were all doing relatively well. Mindy had Anika, Chad had Ethan and also there was Quinn, even though she wasn't very close to anyone. Tara should have someone too.

The problem is that Sam has no idea who this person is. Tara just won't tell her.

You see, Sam understands that she might have been a little too protective of her sister and that this made Tara's behavior become defensive towards her. Her new therapist – after she got rid of that quack – is helping her work through that, okay? But curiosity and worry were eating away at her insides. The curfews, the tasers and pepper sprays, and especially the ID checks were all important to keep them safe, dammit! Mindy and Chad had no problem with it, and it was only after all the appropriate measures were in place that Sam could breathe and let these new people be a part of their lives. Not knowing this so-called friend, let alone who they were, was driving her to the brink of a breakdown.

She was trying to give her some space, probing with subtle questions here and there and the most she got was an eye roll and ‘It’s just a sophomore I met at the film club, haven't you said I should try to be part of something that didn’t involve frat parties?’

Well, at least it wasn’t a boyfriend, given the lack of dreamy sighs, giggles into the phone and late-night escapades. That was good. They already had enough problems to deal with and a new relationship so quickly was the same as asking for a ghostface to go for them again and Sam hadn’t been back in Tara’s life long enough to know how to deal with this part of being a big sister yet.

Sam had understood that she wouldn’t meet this mysterious person for a while, at least until her sister’s tantrum had passed, and between two shitty jobs and trying to keep a structured life being responsible for a bunch of teenagers in the big city, she couldn’t find it in herself to insist on the subject any further and get the risk of causing a fight. She thought it would be forgotten.

Now just imagine Sam's surprise when she came home one night after a long, exhausting shift, expecting to eat the leftover pizza she had hidden in the fridge and fall into a deep sleep, only to be knocked over by an noisy and strange dog with a piece of pizza in its mouth as soon as she opened the apartment door. Her pizza.

“Koda!” Someone called. Someone unfamiliar. It wasn’t just the dog, there was a stranger in her house.

Sam’s hand instinctively moves to reach for the taser hidden in her jacket when a pair of black-clad legs show up in her vision. Does Ghostface work with dogs now? She wonders in confusion for a moment, and has given up on the voice changer?

The only thing stopping her from tasing this potential killer in front of her is the pure bewilderment and Tara’s laughter filling the room.

“Oh my god,” the figure bends down, picking up the dog who turns out to be a very excited puppy, the pizza falling from its mouth and onto her shirt, getting it all over her, “I’m so sorry.”

It’s a girl, a face she’s never seen before, looking completely mortified.

“Hey, Sam,” Tara stops beside her, a barely hidden tone of satisfaction in her voice, “This is my friend. I thought you’d like to meet her.”

It's safe to say that Sam didn't like Tara's new friend at all.

“You didn’t think about telling me you were bringing someone?” Sam exclaimed, rubbing her temples wearily, “Especially that Lydia Deetz project right there? I almost shocked her in the middle of the hallway!”

Quinn shifted from where she was leaning against the counter in the small impromptu meeting and didn’t bother to hold back her laugh, “Nah, I think Tara would fit that role better.”

“Quinn,” Sam groaned exasperatedly.

“If I had told you you would have said no,” Tara shrugged.

“Yes! Because we don’t know her!”

It was quite awkward sitting on the couch in their living room less than five feet away from the kitchen and being able to hear every word spoken as if you weren't right there, with your messy dog happily chewing on the sock on your ankle.

This wasn't the turn you expected your night to take when you decided to accept Tara's sudden invitation for a movie night, visiting her off-campus for the first time since you became friends.

You met her at the start of the school year, the day she showed up for a film club meeting before anyone else arrived, well, anyone except you. She seemed completely lost and suspicious, even though she was clearly struggling not to show it, which made you like her right away.

Getting attention and starting conversations was never really your thing, this whole club thing wasn't either, honestly, but you ended up being one of the last older members to join with most of the others having recently graduated and the responsibility of looking after the new freshmans gradually fell on you. Most of the time you kept to yourself, preferring the behind-the-scenes side of things to participating in the long-winded debates of high school teens obsessed with slashers and making Stab parodies, but you noticed the way Tara seemed desperate for any sense of normalcy beneath her laid-back facade and the whispers of murder that haunted her.

You took what seemed like a rabid kitten under your wing and ended up cornered by the personification of a Doberman because of it. Talk about doing good deeds and stepping out of your comfort zone. What a joke.

Tara’s older sister, Sam, if you got it right, stared at you with narrowed, suspicious eyes – just like Tara when you first approached her – towering over your figure that tried to look smaller than it actually was on the couch, as if she was trying to learn every little hidden detail about you.

“So…” you began hesitantly, wanting to break the awkward silence that had ensued, “you have such a beautiful house.”

“Aren’t you too old to hangout with a freshmen?" Sam cut in coldly, one eyebrow perfectly arched in distrust.

You sighed, this conversation sure started off very well, “I’m 23,” you cleared your throat, “Tara’s in the same club as me, and I’ve just been helping her with some classes I used to take when I first started here.”

You hear Tara’s distinct chuckle, clearly amused by your frustration, which doesn’t help your situation much. What a wonderful friend, indeed.

Sam hummed with fake indifference and the other two housemates watched the exchange intently, eyes darting between you like they were at a tennis match, amused by the sight of Sam trying to intimidate the poor unsuspecting twit that you were.

A great friend, for sure. Ugh, this is why you don’t sponsor obviously troubled kids.

It’s not like Sam Carpenter is really intimidating or scaring you out the way she seems to want to, she has bags under her eyes and a greasy pizza stain on her shirt and you’re a grown woman, for God’s sake! It’s just that it was extremely embarrassing to cause a scene like that, especially with someone who you really wanted to make a good first impression.

Interacting so much socially lately was becoming relatively exhausting and you expected it wouldn't become a thing, as you were feeling a bit overwhelmed by everything. You hoped this would be the last big meeting you had for a while. Tara had told you a lot about her sister, mainly about how it was a pain in the ass to always have someone hovering over her, but it was something you never took seriously because of the way she sounded when she talked about it, too loving for someone who hated the situation so much. No, Sam was important and Tara had insisted that you meet her after doing the same with the twins just a few days ago. You had carefully planned how it would happen, what clothes you would wear and what you would say and now your chance to make things right was ruined, the words seeming to have escaped you in a flash. You were reserved, quiet, small in the midst of so much hustle and bustle, used to watching everything go by from the safety of the shadows. Being a mouse was easy.

“Is that all you have to say?”

Less easy when caged with a lion.

“Look,” you tried again, silently squirming as your pup start sniffing Sam’s combat boots furiously as you stood to pick him up, “I really didn’t want to cause any trouble or misunderstanding, Tara called me earlier while I was walking this little guy and insisted it would be okay if I came over for a movie. I can leave now if you want to, I’m really sorry for… well, all of this.”

You noticed Sam's expression became conflicted, as if she didn't know exactly what to make of you standing in the middle of her living room without showing any threat and wasn't used to people actually listening to her on sight. Still, she wasn't going to give up that easily.

“Great,” Sam nodded, her voice sounding less firm, “go then.” She pointed directly at your dog, now sitting at her feet with its fluffy head tilted to the side in a guiltily innocent manner, “And make sure to take that pizza thief with you.”

(You swear he looked personally offended.)

“What? No!” Tara seemed to realize that her little game could backfire and came out from behind the counter in your defense.

“Tara—”

“Come on, Sam, it's movie night!” She stomped her foot loudly, “I refused the invite to Jason's party for that, we were marathoning all the Texas Chainsaw Massacres!”

You don’t even have to be good at reading people to know that Sam had lost that fight the moment Tara looked at her with pleading eyes, knowing that there was no way to blame her for simply doing what she asked.

That didn’t stop Sam from rolling her eyes and huffing in irritation.

“Fine,” she practically growled, shifting her attention back to you, “But I’m gonna keep an eye on you, so you better not act all smart and keep that fleabag away from me.”

“His name’s Koda.” You pointed out, before softening, “And thank you, I promise I’m not gonna—”

“Shush.”

Sam was sure this was all part of an act of yours, just the first step to infiltrate their lives and pull the rug out like others have done before, because no one in their right mind would sit quietly next to someone who nearly shocked and threatened them in many ways just a few minutes ago.

Especially if that someone is burning holes in your head with their eyes, like she's doing now.

Sam watches shamelessly and intrigued, shooting daggers at your figure as you lean back with Tara babbling enthusiastically between you, your puppy completely knocked out on her lap, oblivious to the sounds of death and fake blood spurting from the TV. She notices the way you effectively ignore her, responding to Tara’s remarks with genuine interest, even if your voice doesn’t match her enthusiasm.

You remained quiet beyond those moments and the tiredness along with your lack of sudden movements made Sam feel secure enough to leave the room and finally take a shower – because along with everything she never saw much fun in these movies like Tara –, warning you that it was better for everyone to finish the night when the movie ended.

(She also forced Quinn to take her place on the couch and promise to scream if anything happened. You didn't comment on that either.)

Sam only falls asleep when she hears the sounds of goodbyes coming from the living room and the door house being closed, finally relaxing after all the interaction, deciding that it was enough. You could have been at her house, but that doesn't mean she would let you come over again.

You come back, because of course Tara doesn’t give a damn about Sam’s warnings about being careful around strangers – incessantly claiming that you’re not a stranger – and there you are at the next game night that Chad insisted on making a tradition.

At least there’s no sign of the shirt-destroying furball this time and there are pizzas smelling good on the kitchen counter.

“‘Sup, Sam!” Chad greeted loudly as she walked through the door, waving excitedly from the couch, “We’re playin’ uno!”

Her eyes landed on you, who waved at her with a small, tight smile, awkwardly sandwiched between Anika and Ethan, the way you stood out among them so comical that Sam suppressed a snort. She decided to join in without much protest, someone responsible still had to watch you, after all.

Sam wouldn’t admit to anyone, absolutely anyone, that she was enjoying the evening, listening to the heated exchanges as everyone got competitive. Strangely, she noticed that you didn’t try to engage much in the conversation, just like the other night, seeming happy to just be there. She thought you had been withdrawn then because of her behavior towards you, but maybe you were just shy.

That made her raise an eyebrow, Tara didn’t usually embrace introverts. Actually, she had always been pretty popular even before Sam left, if she remembered correctly, so this was new. She felt a small piece of curiosity spark inside her instead of more mistrust as she expected and it disconcerted her.

“The whole point of the 7 card is that you're not supposed to talk, man!” Mindy throwing chips at Ethan interrupted Sam's flow of thoughts.

“This rule is stupid! The manual doesn't even mention it, read it for yourself!” Ethan shuffled the cards wildly – everyone at the table had seen his hand – pointing, “And you’re talking too!”

“Whatever! Nobody reads the fuckin manual to play uno, Ethan!”

Tara groaned, “Guys, just shut up and everybody buys a card.”

“But that’s not how you play!”

She decided to abandon the game and all the fuss in favor of getting some air and a slice of pizza and was surprised to find that her favorite was still untouched, which was a miracle in such a crowded house.

“Tara said that you liked this flavor,” your voice coming from nearby startled her and Sam saw you gesture to the box in front of her, “My treat, for the other day.”

She cleared her throat hesitantly, “You didn’t have to.”

“I did,” you dismissed with a wider smile, “My dog left you without dinner.”

Sam didn’t respond, but you leaned against the counter next to her anyway, picking at the dark polish on your nails casually, listening to your friends arguing in the background.

“Get tired of the crowd?” Sam asked, deciding that ignoring you wasn’t an option since you clearly weren’t leaving.

“Yeah,” you agreed, shrugging with an odd laugh, “I guess I’ve had enough socializing for one day.”

Sam wasn’t sure why she didn’t just send you away then, seizing the perfect chance to dismiss you like she’d wanted all along and avail everyone's presence to remind that you weren’t welcome, but that strange spark flared in her and made her smile unconsciously, more sincere than the previous tense ones.

“Oh, I know what you mean,” she agreed slowly.

Your expression brightens in surprise, as if you expected a cold, blunt rejection or maybe a slap (probably both) and Sam feels a bit guilty by it. Sighing, she waves you towards the apartment’s tiny balcony, silently inviting you to join her, to which you respond with a firm nod as you watch her unwind the chain on the sliding door – they keep everything locked up tight now – and follow her.

Sam swears she’s not doing this to be nice or anything, all she wants is to repay you for your politeness, that’s all.

The night breeze is refreshing and sends pleasant shivers down your arms and shoulders as Sam leans against the railing and the two of you fall silent. It’s pleasant, actually.

Sam takes a moment to look at you, like, really look at you for the first time since you met and her breath hitches.

Your relaxed features look cheerful and are well-emphasized by the makeup you’re wearing – she tries to search her memory and gets frustrated when she can’t remember if it’s the same style as the night you met – your hair blows a little in the wind and your clothes just fit. Every single thing about you seems to have been specially made to be this way, charming, beautiful.

Your elbow brushes hers in the small space as you lean in to better contemplate the dreary, empty New York sky and Sam’s skin is burning and she doesn’t understand why.

Sam didn’t realize, through all the haze of anger and suspicion and tantrum, until she was touching a pretty girl, that you were, in fact, a pretty girl.

Shit.

“You’re trying so hard not to like her that I’m getting embarrassed for you.”

It’s late. Everyone has already left, including you, who went early claiming you had to work the next morning. Tara should be in bed by now, but she’d be upset if Sam told her to do that, so she doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam dismisses, packing up the last of the leftover pizza to put in the fridge.

“But you do,” Tara hums smugly, stifling a yawn, “Just admit that you were wrong and that I’ve made a friend who’s not a potential serial killer. And that you might have a crush on her. I saw you two on the balcony.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she grumbles, “And I wasn’t wrong for being worried that you brought home a stranger without telling me, even if she’s not dangerous.”

“Ha!” Tara points out, “So you admit she’s no danger.”

Sam sighs tiredly, bringing a hand up to massage her temple, “She can keep coming over for movie nights or whatever if that’s what you're asking me.”

Tara cheered, jumping up from where she was sitting on the counter to finally go to sleep. She stopped just before turning the corner to her room.

“Seriously though,” she caught Sam’s attention, “You guys have more in common then you might think, that’s why I like her. I think you could too, if you get to know her better.”

“That’s impossible, Tar,” Sam says weary, looking at her sister with the most done expression, “I don’t ‘get to know’ anyone, I already have all the people I need in my life.”

“Maybe you’ll be surprised,” she shrugged, “It would be good for you anyway.”

Sam's approval was all Tara needed to make you a regular fixture in their lives and make movie nights an official thing. Sam usually walks in when they're in full swing, with the two of you deep in conversation about the completely random movie you decided to watch that day, and now she greets you back instead of ignoring like she did before and you look happier every time she does it openly.

She finds excuses to wander around the living room and kitchen when she hears Tara pause the tv for whatever reason, just so she doesn't leave you unsupervised in their house – it was still too early to rule out all the care, after all. It ends up making her feel kind of ridiculous, because, hell, she shouldn't have to make excuses to wander around her own house! But you guys talk during these moments, sometimes.

Sam learns more about you as time goes on, and she tells herself that it's just gathering information, that you're not friends at all, but she finds herself soaking up every bit of detail. What are you majoring in, how long have you been in town, if you live close to campus like most students or if you have roommates like them.

(Actually, when she thinks about it now, Sam probably sounded more like a maniac trying to find out where you live, but at least you didn’t call her out on it.)

Then movie nights are joined by study sessions that Tara insists on having as her first week of finals approaches, and you manage to convince Sam to let you bring your puppy too so he won’t be alone for so many hours and she can act a little more normal around you and have a conversation that doesn’t sound like a job interview. You tell her about the movies you like – which consist of more than just an extensive list of slashers like she initially assumed – in a loud and excited tone instead of your usual repressed one, and it stirs something inside her, which leads to several other facts. Your favorite color, what kind of music you like, what you do when her sister isn't dragging you somewhere, and why you decided to adopt a dog so young when you already had so many other responsibilities.

“He helps me not feel alone,” you replied, looking deep into her eyes, “my roommate graduated last year and moved out. I guess I couldn’t stand coming home to empty houses, you know? And he’s my guard dog, he takes care of me and I take care of him. The little guy might be small but knows how to do damage.”

She could relate to that, in part.

And then you start asking too, suddenly and Sam finds herself with a dilemma after so long avoiding your attempts to get to know her. She’d rather remain closed off.

But a trade isn’t a fair trade unless she gives you something back, is it? And you’ve been quenching her thirst for knowledge for a long time now, you gave her a lot.

So, during one night when you insist on helping her make dinner, she confides in you – somewhat reluctantly – that she really enjoys cooking, especially healthier meals. She doesn't look at you, nor does she say it clearly but still, you listen and Sam is surprised when she finds herself speaking.

“You really should ask her out.”

And of course, Tara is always close enough to raise an eyebrow with a knowing look at her on practically every occasion.

“I've told you already, it's not like that.”

“You're cuddling her dog right now.”

“Just so he stays quiet and doesn't disturb you two! Shouldn't you be studying, by the way?”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.”

Sam can almost, almost admit that you're her friend too.

(Though she kinda wished it were a little more than that.)

Movie nights evolve into sleepovers, because Sam argues that it’s simply too late and dangerous for you to come back alone and she feels embarrassed – and guilty as much – when Quinn brings up that it has always been dangerous and she didn’t mind letting you go before, when she didn’t care about you.

Now there are some of your clothes in a drawer Tara set aside for you just like a colorful food bowl in the living room for your dog – Mindy jokes that it's theirs now – and there’s rarely a day that goes by where she doesn’t see you.

And when you don’t come over, Tara makes sure to remind her of how anxious she looks waiting for a knock on the door and how she lights up when you greet her first when you finally arrive.

“I swear that now she comes here more to see you than me.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Yeah, sure,” she huffs, “And when are you gonna make a move again?”

“Never, Tara.”

Sam hasn't heard a thing about you in days. Tara said yesterday that you ended up getting really busy with a college project, preparing a presentation that, her sister quotes, 'needs to be perfect because public speaking is horrible and there's a big chance I'll embarrass myself.'

It's not that Sam asked, it's just that she doesn't text you often and Tara thought it would be convenient to talk about it out loud when she was on the phone with Mindy.

Anyway, it doesn't really matter, it's not like you two are close. You are Tara's friend. If it weren't for her, you two wouldn't even have a reason to see each other. There's no reason to be so stressed.

But she misses you anyway. She's having a shitty day at her shitty job and everything seems to go by even slower because Sam knows that when she gets home at night you probably won't be on the couch waiting with the soft smile she's grown accustomed to looking forward and if she has to deal with another group of rude teenagers she'll freak out.

The sound of the bell ringing at the entrance draws Sam’s attention back to the counter and she ends up face to face with the person who has been on her mind all day.

“Sam!” you approached with a tired smile, your dog wagging his tail happily on a leash in one hand and a paper bag in the other, “I was looking for you.”

You'd never visited her at work before, she didn't even know you knew where it was, having only mentioned it in passing, but there you were, with the smile she wanted to see and bags under your eyes.

“Hi,” she cleared her throat, feeling her face heat up. Damn, she looked like a teen girl with a crush, “I didn't expect to see you here, what, uhm, what do you need?”

You snorted at her flustered attending voice. Seeing her show any kind of nervousness was very unusual.

“Tara called me today demanding I get out of the house for a bit and ‘touch some grass’, so I decided to bring this buddy along, he was begging me for a proper walk,” you shrugged, “And she asked me to bring your lunch.”

Sam paused at that, Tara definitely didn't make lunches for her, much less go to the trouble of delivering them like that.

“...Thank you,” she accepted the paper bag you held out delicately, eyeing the package suspiciously. You held back a giggle when she looked at you again, “Anything else?”

“Oh, um,” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, obviously nervous, “I’m taking Koda to the park nearby and I thought maybe you’d like to come with us. If you can, of course.”

Sam couldn’t really, it was still a few hours before her shift ended at the coffee shop, but she didn’t want you to leave without the promise of seeing you again.

“Of course,” she found herself replying instead, “I can meet you there in a few minutes.”

She knew she’d made the right decision when you gifted her with one of your warm smiles.

“Okay! Nice,” you nod, absently twirling your dog’s leash around your fingers, startled by the sudden, loud bark he lets out at the delay, breaking the oblivious bubble you were in, “Alright, I should go before he starts trying to jump over the counter.”

Sam barely hears the sound of the bell announcing your departure over how loudly her heart pounds in her ears.

It takes a lot of willpower and her last pack of good cigarettes to convince her insufferable coworker — who’d watched the whole thing with a bored expression and loudly chewing gum while cleaning the coffee machine — to cover the rest of her shift. He ended up ordering her lunch too, thinking it might be something special, only to complain when he was met with a sad peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a carton of warm apple juice. Tara really didn’t cook… but then why had she done that?

(She laughed at him anyway.)

“You owe me, Carpenter,” he grumbled, taping a note to her arm that had fallen out of the package.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

Sam was out the door before he could change his mind.

Taking a deep breath of the damp autumn air, she picked up the yellow post-it note curiously, recognizing her sister’s handwriting immediately.

‘u looked so depressed lately that I

decided to send u a gift

DO something this time

good luck!!’

She knew. She fucking knew that smartass had set her up. Sam should have guessed it before. Tara would never let her get away with this without doing something with her own hands. At least she hadn’t brought Mindy into the scheme this time.

The park you had mentioned was more like a small square and with the rainy cold weather of the last few days, it was pretty empty. Sam could spot you without difficulty, sitting on one of the few benches watching the scenery and she made her presence known when she got close enough.

“Can he even sit still sometimes?” Sam asked, hands in her bomber jacket pockets, pointing with her chin at the dog playing alone on the grass. You moved a little so she could sit next to you and subtly moved closer when she did.

“It rained last night and he's a big fan of puddles,” you chuckled, “I guess he's just excited, we haven't been out much lately.”

He wasn't the puppy he'd been when Sam had first seen him a few months ago and the sight of him running around the trees chasing flowers and stray twigs was actually quite funny.

“He's so covered in mud that it looks like a bear.”

“Well, his name's Koda,” you pointed out amusedly, “I would have called him Pongo but he always looked more like a small bear than a dalmatian anyway.”

She snorted, “If you say so.”

Sam couldn't remember a time when she felt so relaxed, with the weight of your shoulder resting against hers, enjoying the weather of the early season, the ground covered in orange and yellow leaves framing your surroundings.

She couldn't stop the restlessness she felt inside her chest, watching your profile. Feeling warm inside, but also shivering with a terrible fear of ruining everything. Do something, do something, do something echoing like a mantra in her head.

Sam took a deep breath. She'd faced murderers before, for God's sake! She could be braver than that.

"So..." She coughed, "Tara set this up, you know? The lunch stuff and everything."

You turned your attention to Sam, raising an eyebrow with a confused look.

"She did?" You asked, "Why would she do that?"

It's now or never, Carpenter. Focus.

“She did it so I could see you,” she looked away, “Because I missed you. Because I…” She felt your hand reach for hers and noticed a fallen leaf on your shoulder.

“Because you…?” your voice echoed anxious. She could do this. She's going to do this.

“I—”

A loud howl scared the two of you and you turned to see Koda behind a pile of leaves, pupils dilated and jumping up and down.

“Oh no.”

“What?” She stammered.

“He saw a pigeon.”

You see, Sam is not a pet person. She has only had one guinea pig her entire life and only before her father left and a 6-year-old Tara let it escape from its cage never to be seen again – poor Darwin would always be remembered – she does not know how to handle dogs, much less big, excitable ones like yours.

Yet she grabs the leash from your hands when you finally reach your dog who won't stop barking at a tree and ignores your warnings that he is heavy and strong, Sam, it will end up dragging you away and tries to gently pull him to convince him to let go so you can get out of there. Because she is big and strong and she wants to show you that she can handle a mere happy dog.

He acknowledges her like she wanted and also drags her like you said he would.

This manages to surprise her more than the first stab wound she took, how one minute she’s standing still, telling your silly dog to walk in a confident condescending tone, and the next she’s running at full speed through the trees and puddles of the park, your worried voice ringing behind her, as does your laughter.

“Sam!” you exclaimed from a distance, hands cupped around your mouth and dark red scarf falling from your neck, “You need to stop!”

She does stop, yes, but only after your dog has already circled her and Sam must be a ridiculous sight with a colorful leash wrapped around her legs and a dog panting with its tongue out next to her.

“Oh my god,” you lean in closer, unable to hide the amusement in your voice, “Are you okay?”

Sam huffed, feeling a strand of hair fall across her face: “A little help would be appreciated.”

“Sure,” you laughed, reaching out to carefully untangle it, “Maybe I should call him Pongo after all.”

She rolled her eyes: “Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not mocking you, it’s just cute.”

Sam opened her mouth to retort, only to realize how close you two were, with your hands resting on her shoulders to steady her and your faces just inches apart, your breath tickling her skin. You seemed to realize the same thing, tongue coming out to wet your lips, your gaze fixed on her mouth.

Do something. Do something. Do something.

She finally does something. She kisses you.

It's all a mix of sensations, she feels when you sigh, breathing through your nose in surprise and satisfaction, she feels where your hands tighten on the fabric of her jacket and tastes you, warm lips contrasting with the cold skin of your cheeks, with traces of coffee, lipstick and something else so undeniably you that Sam swears her heart might stop.

You pull apart hesitantly, breathing fast, noses touching, eyes shining, and she feels herself falling, literally. Your dog jumps on your waist, demanding to be petted, and you fall, taking Sam with you.

Landing in a pile of leaves is more uncomfortable than the movies make it out to be, but Sam can’t find it in herself to protest when you’re the one on top of her. She smiles and you laugh out loud. She didn’t mess up.

“You’re covered in leaves,” you say, running your fingers through her hair, “And your face is smeared with black lipstick.”

She scoffs, “I wonder who’s responsible for that.”

“He is,” you point innocently at the dog standing next to you.

Sam rolls her eyes, but cups your face with her cold hands to pull you close again, and the second kiss she gives you is just as magical as the first.

Tara doesn’t expect to find a dog taking up the entire couch for the first time in days when she comes back from Chad’s dorm after sending you off on a fake mission to find her sister. Yet, hours later, there it is, with one of the sneakers she forgot to put away when she got home from class stuck in his mouth and trails of mud and leaves across the room.

“C’mon, man, that’s not a toy!”

She hears a laugh and finds herself face to face with Sam, looking completely filthy despite the sound of the shower running in the hallway and Tara knows Quinn isn’t home yet. Oh.

“So, you finally did something?”

Sam nods solemnly, pointing to the dark kiss etched into her jaw.

“I did.”

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #scream x reader #scream vi #scream imagine #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter imagine #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #melissa barrera #denwrites #scream franchise #sam carpenter fluff

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celiastjamesoscar · 1 year ago

Text

Night Shift

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader. Sam x reporter!reader

Summary: Sam blamed you for the 2022 attacks, she blamed you for everything. But guilt drives people into blindness, and Sam eventually finds herself seeking your comfort.

AN: this is the longest fic I’ve ever written, so I apologize if at times it seems redundant. Based off of this request!

Warnings: angst, slight cursing, mentions of past drug addiction, small part of canon typical Scream violence, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of alcoholism, Tara is a little shit. Let me know if I missed anything!

My Masterlist

Word Count: 18.0K

Nothing. That’s all you could think about as you listened to the sound of Tara’s heartbeat monitor. This was your fault. You were the reason Tara was now in the hospital with multiple stab wounds and a broken leg. If only you had gotten to her house sooner, she wouldn’t be in this position. All your friends tried to tell you it wasn’t your fault, that you had no idea some dipshit in a mask was going to attack her, but you knew better.

You were only nine when it happened, but you could still feel the sharp pain of Jill Roberts’ knife plunging deep inside of your abdomen. Sometimes, you swore you could still hear her black combat boots sneaking around on the wooden floor, and the only thing that would play throughout your mind was the sweet release of not having to look over your shoulder at every sound.

The sound of Tara’s heartbeat monitor increasing in speed pulled you out of your thoughts. “Hey, Tara. It’s alright,” you whispered to the sleeping girl, but you got no response. Her heartbeat monitor began peeping so rapidly, that your own heartbeat began thumping in your ears, and it eventually blocked out Tara’s.

Your heartbeat echoed throughout your ears as it continued its rapid pace of 150 beats per minute. You had no idea why you were anxious, but then your surroundings suddenly changed. You were no longer in the monotone gray walls of a hospital, but you now found yourself in Tara’s kitchen. The smaller girl was no longer in her hospital gown; she now wore a pink long sleeve shirt and jeans, and you instantly knew where this was going.

You tried to scream, but no sound left your throat as you watched Tara answer that dreaded phone call. The pounding in your ears continued as you began to sweat and frantically tried to move, but your feet were glued to the floor; no matter how hard you tried to move, you simply could not compel your body to move. You watched as Tara fought against Ghostface, and just like every night, you watched as Ghostface plunged his knife deep into Tara’s stomach. Over and over again.

But unlike the real events that conspired, you couldn’t save Tara. In this version, you watched as Tara bled out onto the floor, her crimson red blood staining the nicely wooded flooring. Her screams were the only thing that drowned out your heartbeat, and you begged it to stop.

“Y/N! Y/N, help me!” Tara cried out in a broken voice as blood now began to seep from her mouth as she tried to crawl toward you, but Ghostface stopped her. In a single motion, he leaned down to Tara and pulled her up by her hair, and slit her throat. When he stood up, you were met with those haunting hollowed out eyes, and when you blinked, the mask was gone.

Jill Roberts stood before you with murderous eyes as she slowly started to advance toward you. You tried to walk backward, but your feet wouldn’t move. Jill was not an arms length away, and you noticed the beautiful glint of light that reflected off the blood as she brought it down in a single motion.

Before the knife could sink into your chest, you were being shaken away. “Y/N. Get up; you’re having a nightmare,” the rough voice of Sam Carpenter stated as she awoke you from your nightmare.

Your eyes instantly shot up as you leaned up from the couch, checking your surroundings. “Oh, thank you,” you weakly replied as Sam let go of your shoulders and walked away from you, not giving you a response. Sam noticed the sweat that lined your forehead and caused some of your hair to stick to your face, but she didn’t care. Why would she care about someone that ruined her life?

Technically, it wasn’t your fault, but it was easier for Sam to blame you for what happened and she liked having it that way. It was her own fucked up way of keeping you at arms length while also always keeping an eye on you.

You checked your surroundings again and you were grateful that you were in your home and not that dreaded house that Tara used to live in. You had fallen asleep at some point on the couch and you left the TV running while your homework was spread out on the coffee table in front of you. You had gained a terrible habit of staying up until ungodly hours while trying to cram in information for your exams.

You groaned while standing up from the couch and you checked the time, 11:30 pm. If Sam was still here, that meant the rest of the girls were here as well, and you dreaded the thought of being around them. That was the worst part about living with Anika; you were constantly around the people that despised you. ‘People’ as in just Sam, but you liked to make it plural for the dramatic effect.

With a sigh, you grudgingly left the living room and went into the backyard, where a fire was going with the group huddled around it while sitting on hay bales. “Good morning, Y/N,” Tara teased with a gentle smile while scooting over on her hay bale, inviting you to sit next to her. “Yeah right,” you mumbled as you sat down next to the girl, ignoring the glance Sam threw at you, “What are you guys doing out here? It’s starting to get cold.”

“We were talking shit about you, but now we can’t do that with you out here,” Mindy joked as she rested her head on Anika’s shoulder. You and Mindy had a special ‘situationship’ going on for a while, but you two ended on good terms and occasionally picked on each other. “I hope it was good then,” you replied with a smile and Mindy nodded her head.

The conversation around the fire was an ideal one as you caught up with the group about any gossip you might have missed while you were asleep. Nothing sparked your interest too much, not until Tara mentioned Sam having a boyfriend.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Sam dryly stated as she stared down her younger sister, “We’re just friends, that’s all.”

“You have been saying that for months, Sam! All you two do is check each other out but you never talk! You have to give this guy a chance!” Tara exclaimed and you felt an unwarranted feeling of jealousy shoot throughout your chest. “What guy are you guys talking about?” You asked, starting to get more involved with the current conversion.

“This guy that has been after Sam’s heart ever since we moved here,” Tara casually remarked as she grabbed a stick and poked around the fire; the little shit had a thing for a fire.

You could feel Sam’s eyes burning into the side of your head as you racked Tara’s words around in your head. Sure, Sam was old enough to make decisions for herself, but the thought of her actually being with someone other than you makes you sick to your stomach. And just like the masochist you were, you had to ask Sam about it. “So why don’t you talk to him?”

Sam huffed, clearly annoyed by the fact that you, of all people, would ask her about her love life. “Why? So you can go and tell Gale about it? No thanks,” she dryly stated with a roll of her eyes.

“Hey, you little shit, that wasn’t Y/N! I’ve told you that before,” Tara defended as she comfortably put a hand on your knee, “And even if she did, I support her wrongs.”

“Tara, you’re not helping,” you whispered with a small, awkward laugh. A small groan left Sam’s lips as she stood up from the fire, “I’m going inside,” she said while walking toward the door to the house.

Once she was inside, Tara broke the tension, “I’m sorry she’s like that, Y/N. She doesn’t want to accept the truth.” The comfort from Tara was nice, it actually made you feel like someone at least cared for you that had the last name of Carpenter.

“It’s okay, no need to apologize on her behalf. I get it,” you said with a weak smile as you hid your pain. It was a stupid feeling: pain. You owed Sam nothing, but you still couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt run through your body every time you saw the woman.

“So, Y/N, what’s it like fumbling an amazing woman like me?” Mindy playfully asked, her own way of trying to lighten the tense mood that had settled around the fire, “I need Anika to know how special I am.”

It was a shitty attempt, but it still put a smile on your face. “Mindy once got in a revolving door,” you said with a laugh, “she was in it for a solid 5 minutes.”

“Blasphemy!” Mindy shouted as she quickly stood up from her hay bale, “It was one minute and you didn’t help at all! And you let Tara record it!”

“Oh my god, I need to find that video,” Tara butted in as she pulled out her phone, quickly trying to find the video while Mindy tried to steal the phone from her.

It was small moments like these that you enjoyed with the group; moments were everyone was happy and they could forgot about their fucked up pasts. Those moments were rare, but you cherished them like they were your life support.

As time dragged on and the night got colder, everyone outside called it quits. Well, at least on being outside.

“Hurry up, Gizmo, I’m freezing,” Mindy joked as she walked behind Tara, almost stepping on the girl’s shoes. “Don’t call me a gremlin,” the shorter girl shot back with a glare as she approached the back door to your house, “apologize and I’ll open it.”

“Fuck you,” Mindy retorted as she made a move for the door, bud Tara was quick to react as she kicked one of Mindy’s shins.

“Apologize.”

“No.”

Several beats of silence pass by as you and Anika watch a stare down between the two friends before Mindy inevitably sighs with defeat. “Alright fine, I’m sorry I called Gizmo. You aren’t a gremlin, more like a fun sized Lord Farquaad,” Mindy said, trailing off toward the end of her sentence.

“Hey, hey! Stop it!” You exclaimed, quickly catching Tara’s fist that was inches away from connecting Mindy’s face.

You were too busy trying to keep Tara from ripping into Mindy that you didn’t notice Sam opening up the door until she spoke. “What the hell are you doing to my sister?”

The position you found yourself in was an uncomfortable one, to say the least. You were holding Tara from behind, with your arms holding the smaller girl’s ones back.

“Mind your business, Sam,” Tara stated in a strained voice, trying to get hold out of your tight hold, “this is between me and Mindy.”

Her sister’s words didn’t seem to phase Sam at all, as the older sister couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of you. The way you had your hands on her sister made her blood boil. Deep down she knew that you would never hurt Tara, but that didn’t stop the over growing feeling of protectiveness come through.

In a single motion, Sam stopped out of the house and gripped your bicep with her right left hand. When you looked down, you could see her veins in her hands as her grip tightened, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say that was trying to flex as well.

“Let her go,” Sam demanded, leaving zero room for arguing. So, you shrugged your shoulders and let go, not caring to warn Sam about the can of whoopass her sister was about to unleash on Mindy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She was like a tiger! A short-legged one with asthma, but a Tiger!” Mindy cried into her phone, telling her brother about her vicious fight with Tara. Honestly, it was impressive how quickly Tara moved to latch onto Mindy, but even more impressive how surprisingly strong she was. The wounds that Mindy sustained weren’t anything terrible; a small cut on her cheek and a busted lip, but nothing was hurt more than her ego.

“You asked for it,” Anika commented, but then gave Mindy a quick kiss for the look she received. You chuckled at the small encounter as you excused yourself from Tara, who had a smug smile on her lips. She knew where you were going, and she didn’t think about warning you that Sam was also there; it was like her own way of playing matchmaker—a shitty matchmaker, but still one nonetheless.

The kitchen was a weird place you found solace in; nothing was special about it. It was where you went when you needed a step back from reality. Another odd thing: Sam also found the same comfort in the kitchen. Maybe it was the quiet nature, or the dim lights that brought comfort, or even perhaps the shitty decorations that littered the walls, but whatever it was, there was a soft comfort.

��Hey,” you said upon entering the kitchen. Sam was leaning against the countertop, arms crossed over her chest as her eyes refused to leave the floor. To anyone else, it would have gone unnoticed, but not with you, not with it involved Sam. You noticed her slightly heavy breathing and the barely visible sweat that glistened her forehead. And when her eyes finally left the floor, you could see nothing but black in her irises.

It took not even a second before Sam finally snapped out of whatever trance she had found herself in and returned to her usual self. Well, about as normal as Sam could be. She quickly wiped the sweat off her forehead and recrossed her arms as she looked at you. “What are you doing in here?” She all but demanded; her eyes seemed never to leave you as she stared you down.

The question was a weird one, as this was your home, but you just chalked it up to Sam's bizarre way of asking, ‘Why are you here with me and not my sister?’

“Hanging out in the kitchen; it’s where I belong,” you said with a smile, and to your surprise, you managed to pull a chuckle from the Latina. It was a quick laugh, but it sounded like angels were singing in your ears, and you would go through hell and back with nothing but the Hamilton soundtrack to keep you busy if it meant hearing that laugh again.

Sam smiled faintly as she spoke, “Yeah, well, I’ve tried your spaghetti before; you don’t belong anywhere near the kitchen. I’m sure they would have sent you into the army and made your husband stay at home.”

“Okay, wow, that one hurt!” You exclaimed with a joking smile as you placed a hand over your heart, pretending to be hurt, “That one dug deep, but bold of you to assume I would have a husband.”

“Bold of you to assume I would care.”

A tense silence filled the air after Sam spoke, but it was a silence you were starting to grow comfortable with. And for the first time in her life, Sam felt terrible for what she said to you. She wanted to apologize for saying she didn’t care about you, but she couldn’t muster up the pride to admit she was wrong. So all she did was look at you sadly and hope you would pick up on it.

“You know, I seriously thought we were having a moment,” you halfheartedly joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

It took several seconds before Sam replied, just as you walked out of the kitchen, “Yeah…I don’t really think the whole ‘husband’ thing would work out for me either.”

This comment certainly caught you off guard. “Why is that?” You asked while returning back to the kitchen, clearly interested in what Sam had to say, “Not much of a marriage person?”

Sam shuffled awkwardly on her feet as she uncrossed her arms, gripped the counter behind her, and looked down at the floor. “No, it’s not the marriage part. It’s the man part,” she admitted while slowly looking up at you with the most vulnerable eyes ever. The look she gave you said a thousand words: this was something not even Tara knew about.

Sure, the Carpenter sisters shared everything, but Sam wouldn’t share this. Her attraction toward women was something that further ruined the bond between her and her mother, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to let it ruin her relationship with her only family left. Of course, Sam knew about Tara’s relationship with women, especially once she found out about Tara and Amber, but she still couldn’t help the feeling of being afraid to disappoint Tara.

But before you could comfort Sam, before you could tell her that her fears meant nothing and that Tara would still love her, you got interrupted. “Sam! Y/N! Get your asses in here!” Mindy yelled from the living room, “We want to watch this movie with you two!”

Sam quickly got rid of the vulnerability on her face when she heard Mindy’s voice, not wanting to show that kind of weakness to anyone.

“Sam-” you started, but the woman quickly brushed past you, subtly wiping a tear from her eye as she walked into the living room.

Following behind her, you entered the living room and sat at the only open spot on the couch, which was conveniently next to Tara, who had Sam on her other side. “Thank god, I was starting to think you two were fucking in there or something,” Mindy remarked as she grabbed the tv remote, “Let me introduce you guys to the scariest movie on the planet: The Cat in The Hat Live Action!”

The rest of the night was filled with laughter and playful teasing as the hours slowly seeped into the early morning hours. The small banter between Mindy and Tara kept things interesting; Mindy compared Tara to the Things, as Anika tried to keep it peaceful. The stolen glances you shared with Sam had their conversations, and when you went to bed that night, you would consider this night a step in the right direction at changing your relationship with Sam.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One thing Sam hated about working a 9-5 was how inconsiderate most of society can be. It was already a busy day at the cafe, more alive than average, and her nerves were already shot for the next and a half. From people complaining about not getting orders in a short time to people demanding to have their drinks remade, it was a rough day for the older Carpenter.

She had half a mind to tell the next person who complained about their coffee not being proper that it was just coffee; if they wanted it right, they should buy a Keurig and make it themselves. Although that would be funny, it would also end in Sam getting fired, so she just bit her tongue and continued working.

As if her day couldn’t get any worse, you always had a habit of catching Sam at her worst. “Are you stalking me now?” Sam questioned once she saw you approach the front counter.

“Oh yeah. You know me, I can’t get enough of the Carpenter girls,” you said with a smirk as you quickly checked Sam up and down, frowning when you saw a faded coffee stain on her apron. It wasn’t hard to notice the looks Sam got in public, so you could imagine how customers would treat her. If the universe would allow it, you would put Sam in your back pocket and protect her from the rest of the world; God knows that the woman deserves some peace in her life for once.

“For whatever reason, Tara can’t seem to leave you alone,” Sam mumbled as she pulled out a pen and notepad, “What can I get you?”

“Just a small cappuccino, please,” you replied as Sam wrote down your order and took your payment. She liked writing things down, which helped her remember the important stuff. And maybe, in the distant future, she might want to buy you a coffee sometime.

Once you ordered, you went and sat down at a booth by yourself and took in the place: it had indeed calmed down from earlier; only a couple of people remained from the rush hour. You enjoyed the calmness, as it gave you time to observe people. Not in a weird or stalkerish way, but in a way to think about other people’s lives, how these weren’t just random people who had no life. These were people who had dreams, who had family and friends; you enjoyed watching the way the world works around you.

You watched as a man with stress lines on his forehead eagerly type away on his laptop, mouthing every word he typed. How sweat lined his hairline, he could have had a deadline for work that he pushed off until the last minute. You then turned your attention to the girl at the opposite end of the cafe, a book in hand as she wore black headphones over her ears, entranced into the world of fantasy without a care in the world while sporting a soft smile. The world amazed you in ways like that: two completely different people who somehow ended up at the same place at the same time, with different things going on in their lives. Maybe it was fate that brought these two strangers together, and you smiled when you saw them bump into each other before leaving, both wearing a smile and talking about the book she was reading. Maybe that’s what you wished had happened between you and Sam: an accidental meeting somewhere where a good relationship was possible and not this borderline hostile friendship.

A couple of minutes passed before Sam brought over your drink to you. “How late are you working?” You asked once she handed you your drink. The questioning look she gave you was a funny one, but not that it mattered.

“I’m here till 5. Why?”

“Damn, you got a 9 to 5? It looks like I’ll take the night shift,” you joked, but Sam didn’t laugh, only giving you a questioning glare, “Lucy Dacus? No? You’re boring.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not obsessed with three grown women who refer to themselves as ‘boys,’” Sam remarked. She had no desire to learn anything about Boygenius, especially after listening to her sister talk for an hour about all of the unholy things she would let Julien Baker do to her. If Sam was being honest, half of the stuff Tara said deserved at least a ten-year prison sentence.

“But you know who they are,” you said teasingly as you stood up from the booth, “Don’t worry, Sam. You’ll soon grow to appreciate Boygenius. I’ll have Tara fix that.”

“Mhmmm, I’m sure about that,” she mumbled as she returned to the counter, bidding you farewell with a slight nod, not caring to return your toothy smile or wave.

If Sam drove home after her long shift listening to Julien Baker, that was no one’s business but hers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Sam got home, she only wanted a nice, hot shower and go to bed. She didn’t even bother to eat dinner, as she didn’t have the energy or care to do so. As she opened the door to her apartment, which seemed heavier than usual, she kicked off her shoes with a sigh as she made her way into her bedroom, utterly oblivious to the voices in the living room.

“What’s wrong with her?” You asked Tara once the taller Carpenter had shut her bedroom door. “I don’t know; probably work stuff. Do you have five of spade?” Tara asked, more intrigued with the game she was playing than her sister.

“No, go fish,” you replied while looking at Sam’s door; something was telling you to go check on the girl to make sure she was alright, but you didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.

“Ohhhh my god, you hate me,” the younger Carpenter dramatically stated, dragging out the words as she threw herself backward onto the couch.

“If I hated you, I wouldn’t have done your entire English paper, would I?” You questioned while shooting a glance at the pouting girl, but when your comment earned you a middle finger, you placed your cards down as you stood up from the couch, “I'll be right back.”

Tara scoffed at you as she leaned up on her elbows. “Have you learned nothing from the Meeks family? I hope you don’t come back,” she mouthed off as she started looking at your cards, “you fucking asshole! You did have that card!”

“I never said I didn’t,” you replied with a smirk as you walked toward Sam’s door, ducking out of the way of a flying shoe courtesy of your best friend Tara.

A soft rasping of knuckles pulled Sam away from her almost meltdown. She had felt a constant pressure on her all day, and it started to lift briefly, but it suddenly came back by the end of her shift. Sam was used to the constant pressure and needed to be the best version of herself now that she was providing for her sister, but it all started to get too much for her.

“Sam, you okay?” Great, not only did she have this overwhelming feeling about to take over, but she was also about to have a high speed come apart in front of the person she didn’t want to see her weak.

“I’m good, Y/N. Go back to Tara,” she called out as she backed herself against a wall, slowly sliding down to sit on the floor.

“Are you sure? You didn’t seem too happy when you got home,” you replied, hoping to get somewhere with the older woman. “I’m fine. Please, leave me alone,” Sam pleaded, but the way her voice broke off toward the end of her sentence told you that she didn’t need to be left alone right now.

Several seconds passed, the sound of Sam’s bedroom clock ticking away, slowly counting down the seconds until Sam couldn’t bear the deafening silence. She felt like she had somehow found herself in her version of ‘The Tell-Tale Heart,’ at any moment, she would succumb to the voices that were guilting her. For what guilt, she did not know; guilty of her origins, guilty of neglecting her baby sister for five years, guilty of torturing her body for years on end, putting any substance into her body to help calm her mind? Sam didn’t know what was causing this constant guilt that followed her anxiety and pressure, but she would do anything to make it stop. And she did make it stop.

“Fuck it,” she mumbled as she pushed herself up from the floor and walked to her door, grabbing the handle but making no motion to open the door. If she opened that door, it would be an invitation to open herself up to you; she only opened up to one person in her life, and look what he did to her. This constant fear of having to look over her shoulder, as if the shadows were going to transform into physical beings and take her life, or even worse, take Tara’s life. Sam wears scars, both physical and mental, from him, and she would lay down her own life if it meant protecting her sister. But when she looked at you, with your innocent eyes that beamed when you looked at her, Sam knew you could never hurt anyone. But Sam was never one to make accurate judgments.

The creaking sound of Sam opening up her door pulled you from your thoughts. Thoughts that weren’t any special; who you would have in your ideal Hunger Games lineup. You knew for a fact that the president would be Cersei Lannister and the game maker would be Jigsaw. However, you still have yet to determine who the twenty-four tributes would be: the only tributes you had so far were Santa Barbara Ellie, Pioneer Kim Kardashian, Regina George, and Chanel Oberlin. It's not the best list, but it's a solid start.

“Hey,” you said quietly, eyes darting over Sam’s bloodshot eyes with dark bags underneath. Even at her worst, she always somehow managed to captivate you like she was a siren, slowly bringing you into your inevitable demise. Still, you could never seem to pull yourself away from the beauty that was Sam Carpenter.

Sam scoffed at your weak greeting while ignoring the feeling of her stomach turning at how you looked at her. She knew she looked like a hot mess, and she believed it was your way of silently making fun of her. But the way your lips were slightly parted and your eyes seemed a bit too dilated, refused to leave her own, told her that you weren’t judging or making fun of her. No, you were admiring her, which sent a slight shock of guilt throughout her; Guilt, that was Samantha Carpenter’s best friend.

Sam’s eyes drifted down to the floor, as she couldn’t handle the feeling of your eyes burning into her skull. “Who’s shoe is that?” She asked, motioning down to the floor, where Tara’s shoe landed.

“Well, if you look closely, you can see that it’s a size three for babies,” you remarked teasingly.

“Kill yourself!” Tara shouted from the living room, not caring enough to storm out into the hallway and show you how vicious she can be.

“Charming, isn’t she?” You stated as Sam looked back up and made eye contact with you. Her face told you that she didn’t want to talk, but her eyes were silently begging you to stay. It was a dilemma that you stumbled upon, but you were always someone who loved conflicts. “Is everything alright?”

Sam sighed as she leaned against her doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest. “Is that what you wanted? To ask me if things are okay?”

“Um, yes and no?” You trailed off, not wanting to make things more awkward than they were, “Hold on.” You quickly moved from Sam’s door into the living room, and Sam ignored the hushed threats being spoken; her sister was an angel, after all.

“Here ya go,” you said with an embarrassingly large smile once you returned to Sam’s door. In your hand, you held a small brown lunch bag. Sam had to fight off any instincts to punch you in the throat.

“I don’t like gifts,” she said instead of resorting to violence. Truth be told, Sam loved gifts; she just hated receiving them, as it made her feel like she was in someone’s debt.

“Well, good thing it’s not a gift,” you replied, smiling, pushing the gift bag toward Sam, who gave you a questioning look before accepting it. The bag itself was featherlight, almost as if nothing was in there. Sam gave you one last questioning look before opening the bag and looking inside.

In the bag were several containers, all hosting different kinds of cookies and brownies, and to Sam’s surprise, they were all her favorites. There was something much more prominent at the bottom, but she couldn’t tell what it was as the rest of the cookies sat atop. Sam gave you a small smile as she walked over to her chest of drawers and began taking out the items, ignoring how you were now peering into her room as you leaned against the door frame.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Sam genuinely said in a weak, almost fragile voice as she slowly got to the bottom of the bag, “I appreciate this. it has been-” The rest of her words died on the tip of her tongue as she stared into the bag, as silence filled the room. Those silent seconds dragged on into a quiet minute, neither of you saying anything. You knew it might have been too bold or maybe even wrong, but you wanted to let Sam know that you were proud of her.

“Goodnight, Sam,” you quietly whispered, gaining Sam’s attention. Your heart broke once her eyes met yours, tears glossing in her doe eyes as her lip quivered. She gave you a slight nod of recognition before turning her attention back to the bag as a single tear ran down her cheek, grateful that you had already left by the time it broke from her eye.

With a dry chuckle, Sam reached into the bag, pulled out a 10-inch cookie, and sat it down on her chest of drawers. She stared at it for several moments before her lips pulled into a smile as a new feeling shot throughout her heart, one that she hadn’t felt in a long time: hope. But that feeling of hope wasn’t for her; no, it was a hopeful feeling about you.

Sam smiled down at the cookie one last time before she went into the kitchen and grabbed a knife and plate, thankful that Tara had gone off to her room so she could enjoy her treat by herself.

Once she returned to her room, she pulled the lid off the container and cut a small piece out of the cookie. Making sure not to ruin the words that said, “Happy three years of sobriety.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The minutes seemed endless as you stared up at the ceiling of your bedroom. You didn’t know why you were waiting, but you just were. Your mind was telling you to get up, to do something productive, but your heart and soul were seemingly forcing you to stay put, like something important was going to happen anytime, and if you were just a fraction of a second too late, you would miss it.

It was a stupid feeling, but you couldn’t compel yourself to move; it was as if your mind was in a trance, stuck in some faraway land, and you could do nothing to pull yourself back into your body. You were on the verge of losing your mind when you knew exactly what you were waiting for, and when you finally accepted why, it happened.

Your phone dinged on your nightstand, and you immediately smiled; you didn’t have to look at it to know who it was. In a swift motion, you quickly got up from your bed and grabbed your phone as you read the text message. It wasn’t a long one, or even a special one, to be honest, but the smile on your face was almost comical, and your heart soared. The text read, “I don’t know how you found out about the date, nor do I even want to. But thank you, Y/N, I needed that today.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I will never understand the hype for ‘Hamilton,’” Mindy stated with a look of distaste as she flopped down onto the Carpenter’s couch. It wasn’t movie night but more of a girl’s night. Since it was Tara’s idea to have a girl’s night, she got to pick the movie. But it wasn’t for her, no, it was for Sam.

The older Carpenter sister would never admit to liking such things, but she did have a soft spot for musicals. She didn’t know where this love for them came from, but ever since she was young, she had loved the idea of singing.

Before Sam had discovered her mother’s journal, which had ultimately led to the destruction of her family, she used to sing in her church’s choir. It was the first thing her mother didn’t force her into doing, and she loved singing in front of people; it made her feel like nothing in the world could touch her.

Singing was the only thing Christina Carpenter told Sam she was good at and the last thing she ever took away from Sam.

Once Mr. Carpenter left, Christina stopped taking the kids to church, which caused Sam to be pulled from the choir. It still didn’t stop Sam; she saved up enough money to buy a guitar and write songs while practicing the guitar in her room. When Sam started to dabble around in drugs and alcohol, she slowly started to lose herself. She lost who she really was, but she never lost her voice.

Only when it was the day of Sam’s 18th birthday did Christina finally ruin the last good thing Sam liked about herself, “Your real father had the voice of an angel.”

Sam left that night, and she hadn’t sung since.

But now, five years later, Sam still loves everything to do with music. She was glad that Tara had taken one for the team and turned on Hamilton because Mindy would never let Sam hear the end of it.

“‘Hamilton’ is okay, but not Lin-Manuel Miranda’s best work,” you stated as you stood in the kitchen, making a bag of popcorn for yourself. Sam was also in the kitchen with you, which has become a common meeting place. She was making herself a sandwich as she quietly listened to the banter between you and Mindy.

“I don’t believe you. What is his best work?” Tara challenged as she shifted on the couch, throwing an arm over the side as she looked into the kitchen to glare at you.

“His best work is easily ‘In the Heights,’” you declared with too much emphasis on the movie title.

“No!” Tara yelled, “You only say that because the lead actress looks like Sam, and you said she was hot!”

“I did not say that!” You lied as heat rushed up your neck and flooded your cheeks. It wasn’t embarrassing because Tara called you out; you were embarrassed because you were in the kitchen with Sam. It didn’t help that you could hear Sam snickering as you were defending yourself.

“Yes, you did. Do you want me to pull up the screenshots from the long chain of text messages you sent me?” Tara asked, even though it wasn’t a question, as she pulled out her phone. “Example one: ‘Oh my god, Tara. I’m watching this movie, and this woman looks just like Sam.’”

You quickly threw your bag of popcorn down onto the counter as you sprinted into the living room. You simply couldn’t live with the idea that Sam knows just how you yearned for her.

“Example two: ‘This is Sam, just in another universe.’ Example three, in all caps: ‘Oh my god, Tara! I am not joking when I say that-’” You quickly snatched the phone from the younger Carpenter sister before she could say possibly the horniest text message you had ever sent.

“You are no fun,” Tara whined as you deleted the messages from her phone. “You’re evil,” you retorted before handing Tara back her phone, who was quick to grab it. You walked back into the kitchen to grab your popcorn and became embarrassed when you saw Sam.

She was wearing one of her light-colored long-sleeve muscle shirts again with a pair of gray sweatpants. In simple words, she looked amazing. Usually, when Sam wore some variation of the muscle shirt combo, you could act ‘normal.’ But now that Tara had practically outed your attraction to Sam, you just wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Thankfully, she just gave you a small smile as she watched you grab your bag before heading back into the living room, no doubt about to be the subject of constant teasing from Tara and Mindy.

“So,” Mindy started once you sat down on the couch next to her, “Are we going to talk about those thirst messages-” “Start the damn movie, Tara.”

By the time the movie started, Sam had entered the living room, but not without earning a cat call whistle from Mindy, no doubt a jab at you. She opted to sit by herself in the loveseat as she kicked her feet up on the opposite end. She sent you a smile when no one was looking, and you could have sworn both hearts started beating as one.

Throughout the movie, you had to deal with Tara rapping and Mindy ranting about the musical, but overall, it was a fun night. Sam was slowly starting to warm up to the idea of having you around more often, and you slowly felt yourself catching feelings for her.

Of course, there was this natural attraction to Sam, she was simply beautiful, but her protective personality mixed with her stand-off, almost bitchy, personality was merely perfect. But with her bitchiness, she was the sweetest, most caring person you had ever met. Her laugh was so angelic, and the way her eyes crinkled when she did laugh was so heartwarming. Sam Carpenter was perfect in your eyes.

To say that this attraction was one-sided wouldn’t be fair. After you had dropped off her cookie, Sam started to act differently around you. She would smile more, and only at you most of the time. It seemed like she had begun to reserve that confident smile just for you. She started to see you more as an individual with feelings and plans for the future rather than a simple 2-dimensional person who was only in her life to make it hell. Sam had actually started to care for you even though she still tried her best to despise you.

So when the movie finished and Mindy went home, you grabbed your coat to follow suit soon.

“Thank you for coming, Y/N,” Tara said as she hugged you while you were standing next to the front door, “You know I love you, right?”

You quickly reciprocated the hug, pulling the girl into a warm, soft embrace. “I know you do, and I also love you too. Even though you can be a shit sometimes.”

“Yeah, but you love it!” She happily exclaimed while pulling back from the hug to pinch your left cheek, “Drive safe, okay?”

“I will, Ms. Carpenter, I will,” you replied, smiling as you opened the door, and Tara disappeared into her room. You had gone halfway out of the door when someone spoke.

“You’re just going to leave without saying goodbye?” You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was; you could pick that soft voice from anywhere. Granted, she was the only one left in the apartment, but you still have yourself the credit for knowing it was her.

“I didn’t think you would want to say goodbye,” you replied as you entered the apartment and shut the door, “I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries with you.”

That was the thing about you: you were so damn respectful. Sometimes, Sam wanted to slam you against a wall to beat the hell out of you. Other times, she wanted to slam you against a wall with her tongue down your throat. Sam had a weird way of showing her attraction to you.

“You didn’t think you were overstepping boundaries when you brought me that cookie?” Sam questioned with a faint smile on her lips. She would never tell you this, but she loved teasing you, as it was the only way she could see the more embarrassed side of you.

“I figured I was, but I thought the gesture of it would be nice enough,” you replied in a weak voice as you rubbed the back of your neck with your hand and shuffled from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry if it was rude of me to do that without asking first. I just wanted it to be a surprise.”

The older woman laughed a bit as she walked closer to you and opened the door, “At least let me walk you out,” she offered. You gave her a smile with a nod as you followed her out of the apartment, making sure to close the door behind you.

“So, what do you think of musicals?” You asked as you walked down the stairs with her. “Why? You wanna ask me out on a date?” Sam joked with the slightest hint of flirtation in her voice, and you almost felt your knees give out.

“Ha, you wish,” you replied as you matched her tone of voice, which earned you a playful smirk to get sent your way. If you figured your one way to win Sam’s trust was to flirt with her occasionally, you would go out giving it your all.

You two reached the floor level of the apartment building, and you held the door open for Sam as you walked outside. “But seriously, though, what do you think of them?” You asked as Sam followed you to your car.

“I enjoy them well enough. Why?” Sam responded as she eyed you suspiciously.

“Because the ‘Aladdin’ musical is going to be here soon,” you stated before you continued with your proposal, “And I was wondering if you would want to go with me?”

The offer was a genuine one from you; you wanted to spend more quality time with Sam, but you also have been dying to see the musical. It was a win-win situation all around.

“Y/n,” Sam started with a beaming smile that matched her chocolate eyes, “I would love to go with you. When and how much do I owe you?”

You quickly picked up Sam’s hand and held it between yours, “You don’t owe me anything. Consider it payment for letting me terrorize your sister.”

Sam glanced down at your hands before looking back up at you. Her beautiful eyes held so much darkness in them that they couldn’t help but draw you in. When you looked into Sam’s eyes at just the right moments, you didn’t see the gorgeous woman; no, you would see her father. And it made you yearn for her even more. Sam had never experienced actual love, but when you looked into her eyes, it made you wonder why thieves bothered to steal pieces of art; you knew you were in love with her.

In a swift moment, before Sam had time to think about her actions, she leaned in. She had meant to kiss your cheek, but in a sudden and indescribable moment, Sam slightly turned her head to kiss the corner of your lips, millimeters away from your lips.

“Thank you, Y/N,” she whispered with a small smile as she said goodbye. You were too busy hoping she left a lipstick mark to respond.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The seconds seemed to drag on endlessly as you tapped your foot against the floor. Your stomach was wrapped up in knots you could barely remember to breathe; the only thing you could think about was the constant nervousness that was rattling you to your core. You were early, half an hour earlier, to be exact, but you would rather be early and have to wait rather than be late.

You were sitting on the bottom stairs of Sam’s apartment building, impatiently waiting until it would be an acceptable time to go to the Carpenter’s apartment. It was the night of the musical, and you were wearing a simple yet elegant suit as you pulled at the collar of your shirt as if it was slightly choking you.

‘Nervous’ wasn’t the correct word to describe your feelings. Petrified would be a better word for it. You were terrified that you would somehow mess up this night, had somehow overdone it, or that Sam wouldn’t have fun. Self-doubt was your greatest friend, after all.

You picked up the bouquet of roses from beside you and stared at them. “Maybe it's too much,” you thought out loud as you turned them over in your hand. Neither of you had explicitly said it was a date, but the way Sam kissed your cheek was something you would never forget. Even though you wanted to consider an actual kiss, since it was so close to your lips, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Samatha Carpenter is a strong woman who takes what she wants in this world, and if she wanted to kiss your lips, she would have done so.

Your phone vibrated with a text message, pulling you away from self-doubt. It was from Sam, telling you that you can come up whenever you would like.

Like an idiot, you wanted to run up the stairs as fast as you could to get to Sam quicker, but you forced yourself to play it cool, to not look like a loser. So, ever so slowly, you began your journey up the six flights of stairs.

Within a few minutes, you were standing outside Sam’s door. You had arrived quicker than you wanted, but the excitement was too much. Then, your mind slowly started to get the better of you as you stared down at your fancy dress-up shoes. You hoped you weren’t overdressed, but if you were, you could easily change into the clothes you kept in Tara’s room. But then what if you were underdressed? How would you fix that? You wouldn’t have enough time to go home and change into something more congenial, and you certainly weren’t going to make Sam change. What if Sam wasn’t even dressing up at all? What if this was just a friendly outing, and you completely fucked it up? What if-

Before you dive further into the scenarios that could play out, the door opened, and all of the air within your lungs left.

“What the fuck are wearing?” You asked with slight irritation in your voice, bewilderment written all over your face.

“What? You don’t like it?” Tara questioned as she spun around in a circle for you. The younger Carpenter sister was wearing a yellow shirt with a pineapple that had on a thong; underneath the fruit was the word ‘slut.’ She was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants, and when she turned around for you, you saw ‘baby girl’ embroidered on the butt.

“Clearly It’s referring to the pineapple, not you,” you said with a smile before it fully registered what was on the girl’s pants, “Hey, turn back around!” Tara did as you demanded, “If I would have known you were wanting to check on my ass, I would have done some squats first,” she teased with a smirk.

When you reread the word ‘baby girl,’ you scoffed at the more petite girl, “Why are you wearing those?”

“Because it's funny! It’s called having a sense of humor!” Tara shot back before an evil smirk appeared, “Why? Do you want me to take them off? I don’t think Sam would like that too much; she gets territorial over you.”

The comment certainly surprised you, and Tara quickly noticed her mistake. “I didn’t mean that,” she tried to explain, but it was too late.

“What do you mean she ‘gets territorial’ over me?” You questioned, completely forgetting about why you were talking to Tara in the first place as the thought of Sam ran rapidly throughout your mind.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tara replied with a nervous laugh as her eyes darted around the room. She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone this, and Sam made her swear not to tell anyone. Now, she has broken that promise to the one person who wasn’t supposed to know.

Now, it was a simple mistake that led to Tara finding out about the flirtatious relationship between you and Sam. It was the night Sam kissed your cheek; Tara saw that bright smile on Sam’s lips and how her eyes held so much admiration. She had never seen that look on her sister’s face, and she knew something had happened.

So, like any good sister, she interrogated and terrorized Sam until she finally caved.

Sam only told Tara the bare minimum; you two were going out later in the week to watch a musical together and that you had gotten her a gift a week ago. She didn’t plan on telling Tara that the gift in question was her sobriety treat basket, but when Tara went to grab a water bottle from Sam’s mini fridge, she saw a small box of brownies with your handwriting on a sticky note. “I believe in you :)” was written on it, so Tara asked Sam about it.

Sam told her sister about the gift, but Tara didn’t seem bothered by it. “Oh, yeah. I figured something fruity was going on between you and the biggest homo of the century. But why the fuck did you keep this from me?!” Tara shouted, moving the box around in the air.

“I didn’t think you would want any,” Sam defended with a weak sigh, but she knew it wouldn’t help.

“I would give a strip show to the old people’s home just for a brownie from this place, and you didn’t think I would want any?” She questioned in a slightly more demanding voice before huffing and leaving Sam’s room with the box in hand.

But now, in the current moment, Tara wished she hadn’t opened Sam’s fridge. That annoyingly hopeful smile on your lips drove her insane, not to mention that lovesick look in your eye.

“Stop it, you’re freaking me out,” Tara stated as she made a disgusted face at you. “No. Tell me why you said that,” you pressed on, hoping to get an answer from the younger sister.

“Y/N, what are you hounding her about?” A soft, angelic voice questioned, and your attention immediately shot to Sam. She was wearing a black dress that clutched her curves and somehow made her look even more beautiful if that was even possible. The dress had a plunging neckline, and you had to force your eyes away from her cleavage, earning you a smile of approval from Sam, but an elbow followed by a look of distaste from Tara.

“You look amazing,” you stated breathlessly as your eyes wandered down Sam’s body, admiring the leg slit that showed off her left leg. You prayed for nights when that leg would be wrapped around your head.

“Thank you. You look not so bad either,” Sam replied with a soft smile as she picked up her black clutch bag and walked toward you.

“Have fun on your date,” Tara sneered as she entered her room. Truth be told, she couldn’t have been happier for her sister, but she would rather die than let you know that.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumbled under your breath as your eyes followed Tara before they shot back to the goddess before you. “Are you ready?” You asked, and she gave a curt nod before walking to the door. When you got to the car, you opened the passenger door for Sam, and she thanked you with a soft smile that made your heart explode and your knees weak.

The car ride to the theater was a peaceful one filled with pleasant conversation as you asked Sam about her day and her about yours. Sometimes, you would catch her looking over her shoulder with those soft doe eyes, and you had to fight off any urges to kiss her soft lips.

“Here we are,” you stated as you pulled into the back parking lot of the theater. As you parked the car, Sam observed people leaving their cars, dressed in all kinds of formal clothing, as they made their way into the theater. It took several seconds for it to click in her mind; this was a date.

Of course, she had assumed it might be considered one whenever you asked her, but as she watched the couples get out of their cars and link hands while they all wore fancy clothing, she knew that this was a date. Sam also knew that if she asked you if this was officially a date, she knew that you would deny it. So when you both stepped out of the car and started walking toward the entrance together, she reached out to interlace your fingers with hers.

It was a simple gesture, but the warmth of her hand in yours was enough to warm your cheeks and set your heart afire. You looked at her, only to find that Sam had already been staring at you.

“What?” You asked with a slight smile and a hint of nervousness in your voice. Sam bumped her shoulder into yours, “Nothing, it's just you look beautiful tonight.”

As if your face couldn’t get any redder, you laughed nervously as you looked down at the ground. The compliment threw you off, but you still accepted it nonetheless. “Thank you. And you look beautiful as well, Sam,” you stated.

“I know; you said that earlier,” she teased as she squeezed your hand, “Come on,” she continued as you two walked into the building.

You held open the door for her as you two entered, and then she patiently waited while you got the tickets.

“My lady,” you said as you returned to Sam, sticking out your elbow. “You are such a dork,” she replied, smiling as she locked her elbow around yours and followed your lead. Sam kept quiet as you led her past row after row, but her surprise never stopped until you led her to the third row up front. “Come on,” you stated as you led her down the row toward the middle, “these are our seats.”

“Y/N. How much did these cost?’ Sam questioned as she hesitatingly sat down next to you. “Don’t worry about the price. Money doesn’t mean anything when it comes to memories,” you eagerly replied, which was the truth. You didn’t care about the ticket price; the only thing you cared about was making Sam happy. Sam was someone who found happiness hard to come by, so you devoted your time to try and make her life better, even if that meant putting a massive dent in your credit score.

“I will stab you in the neck with a knife if you don’t tell me how much you spent on these seats,” Sam demanded with a soulless look in her eyes. It was meant to be threatening, maybe it was, but the only thing you could feel toward those dark eyes was a sense of attraction.

“Shhh, it's getting ready to start,” you silenced her, and soon enough, the lights began to dim as the crowd quickly stopped their chatter and turned their focus to the stage. Sam scoffed at you and turned her attention away from you. She wanted to be angry with you for not telling her how much you spent, but she knew that doing that would only ruin this night, which was something she knew you had been looking forward to for longer than you had been leading on.

So, when the curtains opened, she quickly glanced at you. She noticed how your eyes seemed entirely dedicated to the actors on stage and how your lips were curved up in the slightest of a smile. Sam thought you looked the most beautiful woman in the entire world.

Sam moved her hand from her lap to place it in your lap. She turned her hand so that her palm was facing up, and you didn’t have to ask what she wanted; you interlaced your fingers with hers and pulled them further into your lap.

If Sam noticed the way your hands started to sweat, she didn’t say anything. She was too busy focusing on how your thumb was featherlight stroking her hand to concentrate on anything. No one had ever touched her with such softness; she wanted to cry.

When the play finished, and you took her back to her apartment, she couldn’t help but give you a goodnight kiss as a thank you.

Maybe one day you could bask in the sweet taste of her lips on yours. But for now, you would live with her lipstick stain on your cheek, and you would wear it with honor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things had changed between the two of you. They were highly subtle at first: Sam’s eyes looking for you in a crowded room, her fingertips lingering on your hand whenever she handed you your coffee, and she even gave you another rare kiss on the cheek when you brought a very drunk Tara home late one night. Then things started to pick up; she would text you and ask you to pick something up for her and Tara, and when you would drop them off, Sam would ask you to stay for a while. She would always say Tara asked you to stay, but you knew better, even though you never questioned her.

It was one of those nights at the Carpenter’s apartment, movie night with just the three of you. Of course, typical movie nights with the core four plus Anika and you were on Fridays, but the sisters liked having you over just by yourself, as you weren’t nearly as much trouble as the twins. Tara wanted to refer to you as a plant; check in occasionally to make sure you weren’t dead and give you some stuff to keep you from dying.

“Tara, I am not watching ‘The Babadook,’” you stated as you sat on the couch alone. Tara was doing her dad's stance while flipping through movies to watch while Sam was in the kitchen making popcorn.

“Who?” She asked, not even caring to look back at you. “What-” you started to say before the shorter Carpenter cut you off, “Asked?”

“Why do I even hang out with you? All you do is insult me,” you joked as Tara moved to sit beside you. Well, on you. She threw an arm around your shoulder as she got comfortable on your lap. “Because you love me, obviously,” she remarked, still looking for the perfect movie.

Sam knew it was spiritual love, but she couldn’t help the feeling of jealousy grow throughout her chest. Especially over her sister! With a slight shake, Sam tried to fight off that feeling as she grabbed the popcorn bags, along with some bowls, and made her way into the living room.

“Just two bags?” Tara questioned once Sam entered the living room. “Yeah, I figured you and Y/n would share. Why; is there a problem?” The older sister questioned with a raised eyebrow as she set the bowls on the coffee table.

“No, it's fine. But I am getting an entire bag for myself,” Tara stated as she left your lap to grab a bag from Sam before moving to the opposite end of the couch. “Looks like you two will have to share,” she added with a sly smile.

You shared a look with Sam, who had slight irritation on her face. She handed you the bag as she spoke, “I’ll go make more.” When Sam moved to head into the kitchen, you quickly grabbed her wrist, stopping her from getting further.

“No, I’m alright with sharing. Only if you are, though,” you said quietly, ignoring the snickering coming from the end of the couch. Sam gave you a small smile as she nodded, sitting beside you on the sofa.

A small laugh left your lips as you looked at Sam’s outfit. “What?” She questioned.

“We are matching,” you responded with a smile as you looked up at Sam, who was already looking at you before she looked at your outfit. It was true; both of you were accidentally wearing practically the same outfit: blue plaid pajama pants with solid black shirts.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” Sam said with a smile as her eyes met yours. It was a small moment between the two of you, but it was quickly ruined when the sound of gagging pulled you two from it.

“Please, no homosexual activities in front of my popcorn. I don’t want it forced down my throat,” Tara complained as if she wasn’t someone who also suffered from those homosexual tendencies as well.

Sam cleared her throat as she grabbed one of the bowls and opened the bag of popcorn, pulling all of it into the bowl. “What movie did you pick?” You asked as you kicked your feet onto the coffee table, earning yourself a slight glare from Sam. She wouldn’t classify herself as a neat freak, but she hated it when people put their feet on furniture not used for sitting.

“‘It puts the lotion on its skin, or it gets the hose again,’” Tara quoted while throwing a piece of popcorn into the air and catching it with her mouth.

“I love that movie so much,” you commented while grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch, covering up your legs as you got comfortable.

“What movie?” Sam questioned as Tara hit play. “‘The Silence of the Lambs.’ It's one of my favorite movies,” you replied with a smile, leaning over to give Tara a quick fist bump for the choice.

“Is this the one with Jodie Foster?”

“Yep,” you and Tara replied simultaneously, earning a small groan from Sam, but she didn’t protest.

Once the movie began, Sam pulled at your blanket and placed some over her lap. You thought nothing of it until you felt Sam’s thigh brush against yours. You guessed it was an accident, but she didn’t move her leg; you relaxed your body and pushed your thigh against hers. You felt your chest flutter at the slight smile on Sam’s face at the contact.

As the movie progressed, the distance between you and Sam slowly became nonexistent. Your shoulders were now touching each other as you shared one blanket. In a moment of braveness, with a little bit of stupidity, you moved your hand underneath the blanket, which was where Sam had been keeping her own. Slowly, your hand inched toward Sam’s, hoping to reach the desired location without Sam pulling her hand away.

When your hand gently grazed Sam’s, the Latina made no effort to pull away, so you took it as a sign to continue. You linked your pinkie with hers and waited. I waited for her to finally realize what you were doing and pull away or glare at you and then ridicule you for such actions. So when Sam did pull her pinkie out of the lock with yours, you tried not to show your disappointment on your face.

But before you could get too comfortable with your sadness, Sam interlaced her fingers with yours, giving your hand a gentle yet firm squeeze. It was a small gesture. Some people might even call it friendly, but how your heartbeat quickened at the contact was embarrassing. You only hoped that your fast heart rate and nervousness would cause your palms to sweat. If they did sweat, though, Sam didn’t say anything about it, which you were grateful for.

As the end credits rolled, you let go of Sam’s hand, much to the older woman’s disappointment. You helped Sam clean up the mess made during the movie while you two let Tara sleep peacefully on the couch.

“I can clean those,” you said while walking into the kitchen. Sam was at the sink washing the bowl that you two had used.

“No, it’s okay. I got it,” she replied as she looked over her shoulder at you. “Thank you for staying tonight. I know Tara can be a little shit sometimes.”

You laughed at Sam’s words as you walked over to her, leaning against the counter. “It’s no problem; I love hanging out with you guys,” you genuinely replied, smiling, “Thank you for letting me stay over. I know we haven’t always had the best past.”

At the mention of the one-sided distaste that was formerly between you two, Sam stopped cleaning the bowl. A frown appeared on her lips as she looked down, refusing to meet your piercing gaze.

She took a deep breath before she spoke, “I’ve been an asshole to you, I know. I thought you were only getting close to us so you could tell Gale, but I know better than that now. I’ve been so…closed off to people that my judgment blinded me. I’m sorry, is what I’m trying to say.”

To say that Sam’s apology took you aback would be an understatement. You had just assumed that Sam would never own up to how she treated you in the past, opting just to pretend nothing ever happened. But you could tell that she had been working on this apology for a long time, so you appreciated it while you could.

“Thank you, Sam, for apologizing. I won't try to play it down, but it does mean a lot to me,” you said with a soft smile as you looked at the vulnerable woman before you, “but I have to ask. What changed?”

A sigh left Sam’s lips as she turned on the sink, washing out all the soap. She then began drying it off to think about her response. It wasn’t a difficult thing to explain. Well, the logical reasoning for her change of mind about you. But what she was trying to avoid was telling you that she also had a change of heart. Sam had started to enjoy your presence and hated being without you; she yearned for your soft, gentle touches that followed your caring words. She wanted to tell you that she still hates you but cares deeply for you.

Sam dried her hands off as she leaned against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “I honestly don’t know entirely,” she began, “I know my opinion started to change after you brought me that cookie. But I feel like things changed before that, you know?”

“No, I don’t,” you said with a soft laugh, “I think I’ve just gotten so used to you being a dickhead to me that I kind of don’t associate anything else with the way you treat me.”

Sam had to pretend your words didn’t split her heart down the middle; she had to pretend your words didn’t pierce her heart like an ice-cold dagger. She knew she had no business to be hurt by your honesty, but still, she hated being reminded of how things were.

“I am sorry about that. You were there to protect Tara when I wasn’t, and for that, you will always have my gratitude,” Sam stated as she took several moments to decide on what to say next, “Tara told me that while I was gone for those five years, that you took care of her. Is that true?”

“Yeah,” was all you said in a quiet voice, almost as if you were preparing yourself for when Sam started to ask more questions but silently prayed she wouldn’t.

“How bad was it?” The older Carpenter asked with a voice filled with regret. You didn’t have to ask to clarify what she was asking about; you could tell by how her left fist started to clench as she brought her right arm to rub over the median cubital vein in her left arm. She wasn’t asking about how bad the attack was. No, she was asking about how bad Tara’s home life was when she was too high to do anything about it.

“I made sure she wasn’t left home alone,” you admitted. It was the half-truth, and you hoped Sam would accept it, but you knew better. “What was it like when Christina was there?” Sam pressed on.

“Things were okay; nothing was too bad,” you replied, trying your best to sugarcoat the truth.

An awkward, dry chuckle came from Sam as she shook her head, “Don’t lie to me; tell me the truth.”

You debated whether you should spare Sam the details or try to lie to her about how ugly it got sometimes. But fuck it, Sam had been making your life hell for almost a year now, so it's time she found out what you dealt with for five years.

“Christina’s a drunk; everyone knows that. But it got ugly once you left, especially once you left. It was like, maybe three weeks since you had left, and Christina had drank herself into a coma. The only problem was that it was in some European country, and no one back home knew about it. Christina was only supposed to be gone for the weekend and return home by late Sunday. Only, that weekend turned into a week, which then turned into a month.”

You gave Sam several moments to digest everything you told her, waiting for her to object. But when all she did was nod, you continued. “Tara didn’t tell anyone about her mom not coming back, and she only just told me why she didn’t tell anyone about it: she didn’t want people to view her as some monster because her entire family had left her.”

A soft sob came from Sam, and that was when you noticed she had been silently crying. When you moved to comfort her, Sam smacked your hand away from her body. “Keep talking,” she demanded. And you followed your orders.

“I didn’t notice anything different until I heard her stomach growl during lunch. She had been rationing her lunch for weeks, trying to make every piece last as long as possible. School food isn’t the best, but you would have thought Gordon Ramsey had made it how she cherished every bite. By the end of the school day, I finally got Tara to tell me what had happened, and I forced her to stay at my house. I told my mom that she would stay with us for a while, and she didn’t bat an eye; it was like she already knew what had happened but didn’t want to find out. That night, my mom had cooked lasagna; Tara had three full plates of it.”

“She hates lasagna,” Sam said in a choked-up voice. “I know,” you responded with a small laugh, “After that night, I made sure Tara always had something to eat and that she was never alone. But the one time I wasn’t there,” you had trailed off, not being able to finish your sentence without a tear forming in your eye.

Sam knew what you were talking about: the first Ghostface attack. Instead of pushing you away, she reached her arms and grabbed you, pulling you into a hug. It was the first hug you two had ever shared, but it was still the best. The grief you two shared could be felt by each other in that warm embrace, and you both found comfort in each other’s arms, which was something no one had ever made Sam feel.

You two hold on to one another as you both quietly cry over the past, hoping to be free of it with every tear that falls down your face. It was a bonding moment, but it was something you both needed; you two needed to be vulnerable together and for the other one to pick the other up.

After a few minutes, Sam pulled back from. She wiped the remaining tears off your face as she tucked your hair behind your ear and did something unexpected but not unwelcome. Sam leaned forward and placed a small, lingering kiss on your forehead as she quietly muttered, “Thank you.”

Once Sam pulled back, she gently squeezed your shoulders as she left the kitchen. You followed after her, only stopping to watch as Sam picked up a still-sleeping Tara from the couch and returned the gremlin to her bed. While Sam dealt with Tara, you grabbed the blanket you shared with Sam and some pillows to make your ‘bed’ for the night. The couch was comfortable, and you preferred it over sleeping with Tara. As small as she was, she always took up the entire bed.

After you deemed your sleeping quarters right, you went into the bathroom to brush your teeth. Props to being over so much; you had your toothbrush. It was a small gesture from Tara, but it gave you unlimited bragging rights. As you brushed your teeth, you could hear Sam talking to someone. With your curiosity getting the better of you, you peeked into the hallway to see the woman talking to someone on the phone.

“Thank you for inviting me. I had fun going out with you, but I don’t want this to go any further than friendship,” she quietly said into the phone as she paced back and forth. Deciding to give her some space, you stepped back into the bathroom and closed the door before spitting out the toothpaste and then rinsing your mouth with water. You wiped your mouth off with a towel before opening the door and leaving, finding Sam still talking on the phone with a mysterious love interest.

As she continued to talk to the person, you got situated on the couch, but before you could get too comfortable, Sam started to snap her fingers at you.

“What?” You hissed out, staring at the woman growing slightly more agitated as her phone call continued. You noted that Sam had already changed into her pajamas for the night: a loose band t-shirt with a pair of shorts.

“Have a good night; I'll talk to you later,” she abruptly said as she ended the phone call, “Are you seriously sleeping on the couch?”

“Um, yeah? Where else would I sleep? And besides, the couch is comfortable,” you replied as you gave Sam a questioning look. If she was insinuating that you sleep with her in her bed, well, that warranted some questions. But not that you would reject her offer.

“Are you alright with that? I know you usually sleep with Tara, but she might try to fight you if you go in there while she’s already asleep,” Sam said, trying to hide that she wanted to ask you to sleep with her. She found comfort in holding your hand earlier, and she surprisingly enjoyed the depressing conversation you two shared in the kitchen. Sam hated to admit it, but she found herself seeking you out for comfort. Not only the comfort but the fact that you warmed her heart as well; she had started to fall for you most unexpectedly.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. And besides, she usually ends up taking up the whole bed anyway. I’ll have more space out here than I will with her,” you responded, and Sam couldn’t help but nod at your words. “Yeah, she’s small, but don’t doubt how much space she can take up,” she said in agreement, “But would you like my bed?”

Now, that offer caught you off guard. You hadn’t even considered that Sam might provide you with her entire bed so she could sleep on the couch. As considerate as it might be, you were either sleeping on the sofa or in Sam’s bed with her, no in-betweens.

“No, I can’t take that from you and leave you on the couch. I’m honestly fine on it; don’t even worry about it,” you stated honestly, but Sam only shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t be a good host if I let you sleep out here.”

Neither of you wanted to be the one to offer it up, but you refused even to suggest the idea of sharing a bed. Nope, that was going to have to be something that Sam does, and you would happily wallow around in her swollen pride.

Just as you predicted, Sam swallowed her pride and offered the best solution if it did come with a backhanded offer. “Since you enjoy being difficult and making me feel like a horrible person, would you want to share my bed with me? Just this once?”

When she said the sentence, it didn’t sound as rude as the first one; it sounded a lot nicer, like she was hopeful that it wouldn’t be just this once, that this night would turn into another night, and maybe even the rest of the nights you could share.

“Only if that’s alright with you,” you said in a calm, normal tone as you tried to convince Sam that you weren’t mentally bouncing off the walls. “Sounds good to me. Come on,” she replied as she pulled you up from the couch and led you to her room. Sam dared not let go of your arm the entire walk there.

Once you entered her room, she only dropped your hand as she walked over to her side of the bed. She pulled back the covers as she got in bed, stopping to stare at you. You stood uncomfortably in the middle of the doorway as you looked around Sam’s room.

You felt like you saw a new side of Sam as you admired her room; the walls had old types of vinyl, and a single guitar was hanging from the wall. Along with the guitar, there were some framed movie posters, one being ‘Kill Bill’ that was signed. There was a singular bookshelf that didn’t have a single open spot. A record player was also sitting atop her desk in the corner of her room. How you missed all of these small details when you dropped off the cookies, you had no idea.

“What are you doing?” Sam questioned, pulling you out of your mind. “Sorry; I was just looking at your stuff,” you admitted with embarrassment as you walked over to the bed. You halted before getting in as if you were waiting for Sam to change her mind and kick you out suddenly.

“Is something wrong?” Sam asks as she leans up in bed, her doe eyes shimmering under the dimly lit light. “No, no. It’s just…,” you faltered on an excuse. You didn’t want to admit that you were nervous about sharing a bed with that goddess of a woman, but you also didn’t want her to think you were disgusted by the thought of sharing a bed with her. “Do you want me to sleep in my street clothes? I have New York on me, and I doubt you want that in your bed.”

With a sigh, Sam exits her warm, comfortable bed to grab you a pair of fresh clothes. She didn’t even bother to ask if you happened to have a spare set here-which you did; she started rifling through her closet.

“Here,” she stated as she handed you a faded shirt before walking to her chest of drawers. Sam opened her top drawer and grabbed a pair of shorts for you.

“Thank you,” you said softly while grabbing the shorts from her, “I’ll change in your bathroom real quick.”

Sam hummed in response as she quickly got back into bed, missing the warmth of it.

After you had changed out of your dirty clothes, you decided to put them in Sam’s hamper—a subtle move at her being able to keep your clothes without offering them.

As you left the bathroom, you were still slightly pulling down your shirt, only showing off the lower portion of your stomach. The skin was only visible briefly, but it caught Sam’s full attention.

The scars that littered your abdomen were scattered, but she could recognize a stab wound from anywhere. The story about Jill Roberts haunted you night and day, so you never told Sam about that nightmare. The only one who had some faint idea about it was Mindy, as she had seen you naked on a few occasions. She never asked about the scars; she felt that asking would have been more intimate and personal than the sex was.

But things were different with Sam; you wanted that intimacy with her. And she liked that intimacy with you. Sam wanted to be able to share every nasty, dark part of her past with you, just as much as she wanted you to tell her your dark past. It was opening up with your pasts that allowed you two to share a possible bright future.

So, she asked you about it. “What happened?”

It was a stupid question, but Sam wanted to know your side. Of course, she was aware of the fact you were involved with the 2011 Ghostface killings, but she wanted to know why you were targeted.

You softly sighed as you climbed into bed next to Sam, who was fully sitting up with her legs crossed as she stared at you, silently encouraging you to trust her. If there was going to be anyone to judge you for your past, it certainly wasn’t going to be Samantha Carpenter.

“Well, I was nine when it happened,” you began, “and I suppose it all boils down to being at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

You waited several seconds, debating whether you wanted to share this information. It wasn’t a secret; it was out there for the entire world to read about, courtesy of Gale Weathers, an author who turned a tragic story into a multi-million dollar yearly profit.

“Jill was my babysitter. It was after the first few attacks, and she was still babysitting me. She was always nice to me, well, about as nice as she could be. I had been messing around in her room, and I found this camera, so of course, I started to watch what was on it. On it were videos of all of the recent attacks, ruthless shit. Instead of telling her I found it, I hid it in my backpack, and I had planned to bring it to Judy Hicks. Well, Jill finds out that it’s missing and goes ape shit.”

You shifted around in bed as you got more comfortable, opting to fully lay down on your back as Sam propped herself up onto her elbow to engage herself in your traumatizing story fully.

“Anyways, she starts ripping the house apart, turning it inside out and upside down. Of course, she eventually finds it in my backpack, and I don’t even defend myself. I just stood there like a deer caught in headlights. The scariest part about it was that she didn’t even hesitate. One moment, she had my backpack in hand, then the next, she had a knife,” you finished, not wanting to recall the gruesome experience.

Sam was silent momentarily as she thought over what to say to you. She wanted to comfort you, but she didn’t know how. In a way, she felt like your attack had been her fault. Logically, it couldn’t have been, but she felt guilty about it, guilty about her father.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, especially at such a young age,” Sam stated. She truly did feel heartbroken for you, but she couldn’t seem to express her sorrow adequately. The only emotion she was good at convening was her anger, a trait she inherited from both her mother and father.

“It is what it is,” you replied with a soft sigh, “Who were you talking to earlier?”

The older Carpenter sister let out a small groan as she fell onto her back, running her hands down her face to add dramatic effect. “It was Danny,” she replied as she interlaced her fingers and placed them on her stomach.

“Oh yeah?” You asked with a teasing tone. Now it was your turn to prop up onto your elbow. “What did he want?”

“He just wanted to go on another date,” Sam responded, to which you huffed. This slight noise got her attention; she turned her head to the side to look at you as if she were studying your facial expressions to try and guess what you were thinking. “Why do you ask?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Just curious. You seemed annoyed, and you hung up pretty quickly. Just thought you were having a sneaky link I didn’t know about.”

“Oh, please. If I wanted a sneaky link, I certainly wouldn’t let my family know about it,” she joked softly, and your heart erupted. Sam’s smile was rare, even more rare around you. It was as if the angles had parted the sky, and you could catch a glimpse into heaven. It was the most beautiful sight you had ever seen, but the most teasing one.

“Okay, but be honest: what happened?” You pressed on while clarifying that you respected Sam’s boundaries if she didn’t want to tell you.

“We went on a date. Danny kissed me because he felt something; I didn’t feel anything. He called to ask me on another date; I said no. Simple as that,” she replied with a monotone voice, but you knew there was more to the story.

“Sam,” you said with a soft voice.

“Mhm?”

“I will throw myself out of your window if you don’t tell me the truth.”

“Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with you?” Sam questioned with a voice full of laughter as she smiled from ear to ear.

“Tell me, or I’ll paint the sidewalk red,” you joked with a smile that matched hers.

“I told him no because I don’t want to be with him,” she replied honestly as she stared at you with those dark, doe eyes. You swore you could get lost in that void. “Now, will you leave me alone so I can sleep?”

You scoffed at her but entirely laid down nonetheless. “I guess so,” you grumbled as you rolled onto your side, facing away from Sam.

Sam only laughed at your shitty attempt to pout as she got out of bed to turn off the overhead light. Once she was back in bed, she rolled onto her side to face your back.

Slowly and very hesitantly, she wiggled closer to you, wrapping a loving arm around your waist. Sam didn’t have to wait long before she felt your hand atop hers, pulling her closer to you. Soon enough, her entire front was pressed against your back, and you couldn’t have been happy. Your heart seemed to only beat for Sam, as your entire body started to feel like it was catching on fire.

“You know,” Sam whispered into the dark room, “I listened to Julien Baker the other day.”

“That’s not the one I was talking about,” you responded, not missing a beat.

She scoffed at your weak response, “There’s too many.”

“Girl, there are only three!”

“Whatever,” she mumbled while she pulled you closer into her body as if she couldn’t get enough of you. Sam placed a chaste kiss on your head before slowly drifting off to sleep, with you in her arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The picture frames hung on the walls rattled as the loud, booming sound of music filled the air. Against your will, the twins plus Tara dragged you to a frat party. Drunken college students mixed with obnoxious music was not your cup of tea, but you did enjoy the theme: early 2000s club. From Lady Gaga to Timbaland, even to Beyoncé, it was the first time a party had gotten the music right! There’s nothing wrong with today’s music; they don’t make them like they used to.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Tara offered. Even though she forced you to go out tonight, she still wanted you to have fun without pressuring you to do too much. She could be a little asshole sometimes, but she had her soft moments.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you replied softly. The two of you were sitting together on the only couch that didn't have people either passed out or making out, even though Tara suggested doing either with you.

“Tara, I think you are wonderful and completely captivating, but I do not want your tongue down my throat,” you joked with a soft laugh. The younger Carpenter whined in response as she kicked her feet up into your lap.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. It’s the other Carpenter’s tongue you want,” she teased with a wink as she made a V with her middle and pointer finger, bringing it to her lips while sticking out her tongue.

“What is wrong with you?” You questioned while politely shoving the more petite girl, forcing her to stop. “Oh yeah, how come I found you two wrapped up in each other’s arms then? Mmm?” She pressed.

It was a simple question but an entirely challenging one as well. You needed a place to sleep, so Sam offered to share her bed with you, as it was better than the couch. That part you could explain, but you couldn’t explain why or how you woke to Sam’s face pressed against your chest. It was the first time you had ever felt so loved, so seen. It wasn’t just you who had found so much comfort that night. Sam loved falling asleep to your heartbeat; the drumming sound soon became a lullaby.

“She tried to kill me and forced me to share her bed for warmth,” you stated, but Tara didn’t believe you for a second. “You know, if you would have told me that four months ago, I would have believed you. But now that you have stolen my sister from me and somehow tricked her into falling for you, I don’t believe you.”

Your ears perked up at the mention of Sam falling for you, and your cheeks started to get warm at the thought of Sam recouping your feelings. “She likes me?” You asked with a love-sick smile on your lips.

Tara rolled her eyes at your question and pushed herself off your lap. “I don’t know how you did it, but Sam cares about you. I think she started to go soft on you when you took her to that musical,” she stated as she stuck out her right arm to you. You grabbed onto her hand and allowed the more petite girl to pull you off of the couch, then you followed her into the kitchen.

“I didn’t even know that Sam likes musicals,” you commented as you grabbed a Seagram from the bucket full of ice on the kitchen island. “She loves them more than me. I fully believe Sam would sell me for some ‘Six’ tickets,” Tara remarked as she grabbed a beer.

You laughed at the younger Carpenter comment. Sadly, she wasn’t being dramatic; you now knew the extent of Sam’s love for musicals, and you hated that you agreed with Tara.

“Yeah, I hate that you believe you on that one,” you replied as you followed Tara into the backyard. The two of you sat down together on a swing, drinking in silence as you two silently judged the drunks amongst you.

All in all, it was a nice night to socialize; exams were finished up for the week, and you two needed a break from all of it. It was nice to get out occasionally with friends, even though you preferred drinking the safety net of your own home. It wasn’t because you didn’t trust people. It was that you hated being around drunk people, and you were a homebody. But just when you started relaxing at the party, the universe had to ruin it for you.

It wasn’t anything terrible at first; Tara had left to grab some more beers for the two of you. She was back within a minute, and as she walked toward you, a man grabbed her arm and pulled her into him.

You couldn’t hear what was being said, but you could tell from the anger in Tara’s eyes that it wasn’t anything good. Sometimes, you wondered if the Loomis genes were airborne, due to how quickly Tara got angry and violent.

Before you had any time to react, Tara had taken the beer bottle in her right hand and smashed it against the man’s head, causing him to fall to the ground. You quickly sprang up from your comfortable seat as you rushed over to Tara, now held back by two of your friends from college. You checked over her hands to ensure no glass had gotten in them, and when you deemed her safe, you took her from friends, who then went to check on the man, who was still on the ground.

“Come on,” you mumbled as you dragged Tara from the backyard and into the front yard.

When you two entered the front yard, she shook herself from your grasp and dramatically flung herself onto the ground, sighing in defeat. The air was full of tension as you stared down at the more petite girl, who held her head in shame.

“What happened?” You questioned as you sat down next to her. With a sigh, she wrapped her arm around yours and rested her head on your shoulder. “He’s from my theoretical film studies class. The other day, we had argued about the Harry Potter movies. And-do not fucking laugh at that!” She exclaimed as she playfully smacked your arm once you started to laugh at her.

“I’m sorry, but you two argued over Harry Potter?” You asked with laughter in your voice, “That’s insane!”

“Shut up, no, it's not. Anyways, before I was so rudely interrupted,” she replied with attitude, “the argument was over who was the real bad guy: Dumbledore or Snape. We disagreed, but we didn’t have enough time to discuss it before class ended. Tonight, he stopped me to tell me I was wrong and that he was right, and I kinda got a little angry.”

“‘A little angry?’ You smashed a bottle against his head,” you exclaimed with a look of bewilderment.

“I’m little; my anger fills up my entire body, and sometimes it gets the best of me,” she shrugged as she stood up and held out a hand, “Come on, let's go home.”

You accepted her hand as you followed her home. You didn’t need to ask what she meant by home; you both knew it was the Carpenter’s apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You did what?!” Sam shouted as she stared down you and Tara. The two of you were sitting down on the couch together, sharing shame as you listened to Sam ridicule you. “I let you go out for one night and I promised not to text you the entire time, and you do this? And you,” she then turned her attention toward you, “I can’t believe you let this happen.”

“Sam, I'm so sorry. It happened so quick and I-” you tried to defend but she interrupted you. “You had one job, Y/n. One!”

Sam paced back and forth as she rubbed her temples. This was supposed to be a night of relaxing; she had already had two glasses of wine and ate a little bit too much pasta that was acceptable. Sam even had plans to ask you to stay the night again, that’s why she had the wine; she needed that liquid courage to taste your lips for the first time.

But now, as she went over the possible outcomes of her sister assaulting one of her classmates, all she wanted to do was go to sleep. With a sigh, she dropped her hands and stopped pacing. “Alright,” Sam said in a defeated voice, “I will let it slide, but just this once. Go take your shower, but then you are going to bed.”

Tara was out of the room as soon as Sam said it was okay, not wanting to waste a second as she feared that her sister might change her mind. Tara also wanted to give her sister some alone time with you; she noticed the wine glass on the living room table and she was praying that tonight would be the night the two of you stopped pussyfooting around.

“Sam?” Your voice pulled her out of her thoughts and her eyes automatically snapped to you. “What’s up?” She asked.

You stood up from the couch as you approached her. “I’m sorry about tonight. If I would have known that was going to happen, I would have stopped her,” you apologized but Sam was already shaking her head.

“No, it's okay,” she replied as she grabbed her wine glass and finished it off as she walked into the kitchen, with you a few paces behind her.

“Are you sure?” You quietly asked as you awkwardly looked around. “Yeah. Why do you ask?” She questioned as she placed her glass on the counter and looked at you. You could feel her eyes burning into your skin, and you couldn’t help the words that soon poured out of your mouth.

“I don’t know, I’m just worried that you are actually really upset with me but you don’t want to tell me that because you don’t want to upset me. I’m worried that things are different between us now, and I don’t know why I feel that. I’m just terrified I fucked up somehow, and I really really like you, Sam. I’ve worked so hard to gain your trust and now I’m scared I lost it. So, I am so sorry-” she cut off your rambling by cupping your cheeks and pressing her lips against yours.

Your heart automatically started beating quicker as your hands found home on her hips, pulling her closer into you. When you kissed her back, you could have sworn she let out the slightest moan, and it drove your mind insane.

You couldn’t recall her walking toward you, but the only thing that was running through your mind was how soft her lips were; how sweet they tasted mixed with the wine.

The wine.

You quickly pulled away from Sam’s lips. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to do anything while you’ve been drinking,” you apologized, but your eyes darted between Sam’s own eyes and her lips.

With a soft laugh, Sam leaned forward and kissed your cheek, something she had found out she loved doing. “It’s okay, Y/N. I really really like you too, and I hope that we could possibly go on another date again soon?” Sam asked with a look of hopefulness, and you had to fight the urge to lean back in.

“You’re also considering the musical a date too?” You questioned with red cheeks. Sam nodded her head with a smile that matched hers, and oh how your heart beat for the woman in front of you. You swore you were love drunk off those lips that you’ve only tasted once, but now that you’ve tasted them, you’re sure that nothing was as sweet.

“Y/N, would you like to stay the night?” Sam asked, “With me?”

“Are you trying to get in my pants?” You teased as you playfully pushed her shoulders, to which she grabbed your hand and pulled you into her.

Sam reached up with her right hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, then ran her fingers down the side of your jaw as she admired your features. “I’ve been an asshole to you, I know that,” she admitted as her thumb stroked your jawline, “But I hope over time I can make it up to you fully. I’ve blamed you for things that weren’t your fault and I’m sorry I was that dense. I know you are just following Gale’s writing as a way to forge your own career, and I shouldn’t have blamed you for the book she wrote.”

Sam took a deep breath as she tried to collect her thoughts. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry for how much of a dick I’ve been to you, and I would like to make it up to you,” her voice got quieter as her eyes refused to meet yours, “By hopefully being your girlfriend?”

Your heart skipped a beat as you tried to wrap your mind around what Sam just asked. When her eyes did meet yours, they were holding so much love and hope that you felt your heart explode. Tears welded in your eyes as you cupped her cheeks and pulled her into a loving kiss, forgetting about the alcohol in her system.

“I would love to be your girlfriend,” you mumbled against her lips as you quickly pecked them, “But how much have you had to drink tonight?”

The older Carpenter sister laughed at your comment as she grabbed your hand, pulling you toward her room. “I’m fine, Y/N. I’m sure you and the demon child have had more than me. Besides, I only needed a few drinks to actually make a move on you,” Sam admitted as she opened her bedroom door and dropped your hand, to your disappointment, “But how much have you had?”

You shrugged your shoulders as you walked over to the vinyl set in Sam’s room and began flipping through them. “I’m fine; a little buzzed but nothing too bad,” you replied.

“Mhm, yeah, you’re not as awkward as you usually are. I don’t like it,” Sam stated as she handed you a clean pair of clothes to change into you. You noticed they were her clothes, and an embarrassing large smile over took your lips as you finally realized that Sam Carpenter was your girlfriend.

You leaned to kiss her, but Sam placed her hands on your shoulders, preventing you from doing so. You gave her a little pout, so to make you feel just a little bit better, she sighed and gave your cheek a kiss. “Go change and get ready for bed,” she quietly commanded you and you did as told.

The clothes fit you perfectly, as if Sam had bought them just for you. There was a toothbrush laying on the sink, still in its packaging, and you knew that Sam had gone out shopping for you tonight.

Walking into the bedroom, you climbed into bed with the older Carpenter, who was sitting upright with her back against the headboard of her bed, reading a book. “Did you buy me a toothbrush today?” You asked as you laid down and scooted closer to Sam, wrapping your arm around her waist.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied as placed her bookmark in the book and set it down on the nightstand, “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because there was a toothbrush that hadn’t been opened yet, and these clothes fit a little bit too nice,” you commented as you watched Sam turn off the bedside lamp and lay down next to you.

“Yeah, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she denied as she pulled you into her body. Sam brought her hand up to the back of your neck and brought your head close to her chest. You sighed in comfort as you nozzled your head, hoping to get as close as you can to her breasts without making Sam uncomfortable.

Sam placed a kiss on your head as she tightly hugged you, “Goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight, my lovely girlfriend who used to hate me,” you cheekily replied, earning a laugh from Sam.

“When will you ever let that go?” Sam asked with a slight annoyance in her voice, but you knew she was joking.

“I don’t know, until I’ve deemed that enough time has passed for me to be able to move on,” you replied, “But a goodnight kiss would help.”

The Latina chuckled at your words as the hand that was your head was now cupping your cheeks, pulling you into a loving kiss. Her lips were soft and warm, and you knew that you could never leave them. So when Sam pulled away, you chased after her lips, hoping to taste them for just a second longer.

But she stopped you, much to your disappointment. “In the morning you will give you all of the special treatment you want. But for now, let’s go to bed,” Sam stated in a loving voice, and all you did was nod your agreement. You placed your head back on your chest as you two allowed sleep to overtake you.

When the morning came, you awoke before Sam, greeting her with kisses all over her face and sweet nothings about how much you cherished her as your girlfriend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @elduster @silentwolfsstuff @maskthedwarf @canvascoloredin

#sam carpenter #scream #melissa barrera #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x fem reader #sam carpenter x reader #Tara carpenter #wlw

1K notes · View notes

ajortga · 6 months ago

Text

clothes

pairing: sam carpenter x fem reader

word count: 973 (drabble!)

summary: sam loves showering you with affection, even if it means lending you her whole closet.

To say that the weather in New York City is cold is an understatement. It was sunny in the afternoon when you went to browse around your favorite book store.

You had tossed on a jacket beforehand when you got into Sam’s car so she could help drop you off before running a few errands. It was off by the time you arrived. It was pretty warm, you thought your sweater might have been enough.

So you had given it to her and told her she could drop it off at home if she went.

But now, with a hand holding a bag full of new books that were on your booklist, mother nature had certainly had a change of heart. By the time you started checking out and asked Sam if she could pick you up, it was cloudy and freezing cold.

“Pfft, gentle breeze,” you murmur to no one in particular as you walk out. Sam had told you you should’ve brought it just in case, but what’s the point? The aesthetic of you, the “mysterious girl” just looking at books and a Gracie Abrams tote bag hung over your shoulders wouldn’t be so aesthetic with a huge jacket tied over your waist.

Now that you think about it, you could’ve just put it in your tote. Too late cause your sweater was probably at home now. You didn’t want to have Sam say, “I told you so, baby.” You were too stubborn to go back into the store where it was warm.

After a couple of minutes, the familiar black car that belonged to Sam drove by and parked at the nearest open spot. Before you could follow it, she messaged you:

sammy<3: Do NOT even think about walking. I’m not making my baby girl walk in the cold. Change of weather, huh?

You roll your eyes, sigh as you sink back into the bench you were on and start looking through your books.

After a few minutes, you hear someone whistle at you as you turn and see your girlfriend. She put on a leather jacket as she approached. “Hey, cutie. Successful book shopping?”

You bite back a shiver while you nod. “Mm… O-oh yeah!”

She eyes you skeptically, knowing you too well.

“I told you to wear thicker clothes,” she sighs, pulling you into her chest and wrapping her arms around you. “Aye-yai-yai-yai-yai. Here,” she takes off her leather jacket and holds it out to you.

“No, put that back on, I’m not letting you freeze.”

“Bitch, you’ve been freezing. I’m fine, baby, I promise. I’m fine with the cold and walking around the shops for another thirty minutes. But you.. You have the shivers as soon as you get into a room a degree lower than the one you were in. You’re crazy to think I’d let you freeze.”

Okay, now she was just telling you you had a low temperature tolerance.

“No way! I’m not letting you die out here!” You exclaim, you didn’t want her to freeze to death.

She was still holding the jacket in front of you, her eyes showing she wanted you to open your arms so she could drape it against you. “Says the one whose nose is literally tomato red and sniffling. Baby, I swear I’m fine. Come on.”

“No, I can do it!” You exclaim, exaggeratedly stomping around up and down the walkway. Sam just sees a little tiny person dramatically walking up and down as you put out your arms to make it seem like you were some buff guy.

Another gentle, but freezing breeze blows against you, like it was on Sam’s side. It’s not long before you’re holding back shivers and shudders. Your girlfriend raises her eyebrows.

You stomp a few moments more before you come to a stop, slowly turning to Sam with a pout. “Jacket?” You ask, voice small, so innocent and completely defeated.

Sam can’t help but laugh, “I knew it.” She helps you thread your arms through her leather jacket. It was a little oversized on you, she grins because of it.

You didn’t want to tell her that you probably wouldn’t give it back to her. She’d probably come around and search your apartment while you acted clueless, like it wasn’t hiding in your closet with all the other clothes you’ve stolen from her. Sam would never tell you that she found you asleep one night wearing her hoodie and clinging onto a giant teddy bear that she won for you at the fair.

She found it cute, until she realized the teddy bear was wearing another shirt you stole from her. She practically jumped to cuddle you, feeling bad you had to pretend that Sam was with you on nights she worked late.

As the jacket swallows you whole, you hug it tighter against yourself. It smells sweet and leathery with a hint of cinnamon.

It smells like Sam.

It makes you jump up and down happily. A grin plasters on your face as you turn to your girlfriend, opening your arms. You feel very warm now. It’s even warmer when Sam steps closer and envelopes you in her embrace, resting her chin on your head. She runs her hands through your hair and inhales the scent of your shampoo. If anyone can make your stubbornness fade away in a blink of an eye, it was Sam.

“C’mon, cutie. I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate when we get home, that sound okay?”

You nod as she scoops you up into her arms and begins walking you back to where she parked.

To say the least, you were smothered with affection when you got home. The best part was, Sam didn’t question when her leather jacket was gone from the place it was usually hung up the next day.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x you #samantha carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #melissa barrera x reader #melissa barrera #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega imagines #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader

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the-oblivious-writer · 24 days ago

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A Hard Day's Night

Sam Carpenter x Reader

One-Shot

Summary: After a hard day's night, only you know what to do to make Sam feel okay.

Warning(s): References to past trauma, brief mentions to workplace harassment, no pronouns, and they kiss and bathe together but it's not explicit.

Notes: More one-shot angst coming your way. Here's a soft blow in the mean time!

You hear Sam before you see her - the jangle of keys, the tired thud of her bag hitting the floor, and an exhausted sigh that seems to come from somewhere deep in her soul. Working at a coffee shop might not be as intense as some of her past experiences, but you know how draining customer service can be, especially for someone carrying as much weight on their shoulders as Sam does.

"I'm home," she calls out, her voice carrying a slight rasp of fatigue. You peek around the corner from the kitchen, where you've been preparing a surprise dinner, and catch sight of her slumped against the doorframe. Her dark hair is coming loose from its ponytail, and there's a coffee stain on the sleeve of her work shirt.

"Rough day?" you ask softly, already knowing the answer from the way she's holding herself - shoulders tight, jaw clenched just a bit too hard. Some habits die hard, even now that things have settled down.

Sam lets out a hollow laugh, running a hand through her hair. "You could say that. Some guy spent fifteen minutes arguing with me about the difference between a macchiato and a latte. Then had the nerve to tell me I should 'smile more.'" She rolls her eyes, but you can see the tension radiating through her frame.

"Come here," you say, opening your arms. She hesitates for just a moment - another old habit, that instinct to stay guarded - before crossing the room and melting into your embrace. You can feel some of the rigidity leave her body as she presses her face into your shoulder.

"You smell like garlic bread," she mumbles against your shirt, and you can feel her smile.

"That's because I'm making your favorite - my grandmother's lasagna recipe." You press a kiss to her temple. "I had a feeling you might need some comfort food tonight."

She pulls back slightly, looking up at you with those expressive eyes that first drew you in. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to," you say simply, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Besides, you've been working so hard lately. You deserve to be taken care of sometimes."

The vulnerability that flashes across her face makes your heart ache. Sometimes you forget how new this still is for her - having someone who wants to take care of her, no strings attached, no hidden agendas. Just love, pure and simple.

"The lasagna needs another twenty minutes," you continue, letting your hands slide down to her shoulders, feeling the knots of tension there. "How about you go change into something comfortable, and I'll run you a bath?"

"With the lavender bath salts?" she asks, a hint of playfulness creeping into her voice.

"Of course. Only the best for my overworked barista."

She laughs - a real laugh this time, not the hollow sound from before - and stretches up to press a soft kiss to your lips. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"Existed," you reply simply, earning another kiss.

While Sam changes out fo her cloths, you busy yourself running the bath, adding her favorite lavender bath salts and lighting a few candles. The bathroom fills with soft, warm light and soothing scents. You can hear her humming quietly in the bedroom - a habit she's picked up from you, though she'd never admit it.

When she emerges in her favorite towel, her face freshly washed and hair loose around her shoulders, your breath catches a little. Even after all this time, moments like these still get to you - seeing her soft and unguarded, trusting you with these vulnerable moments.

"Bath's ready whenever you are," you say, pulling her close again. "Want me to wash your hair?"

She practically purrs at the suggestion. "Yes, please." Then, after a pause: "Join me?"

You raise an eyebrow. "What about the lasagna?"

"We can reheat it," she says, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. "Right now, I just want to be close to you."

How can you resist when she looks at you like that? You set a timer on your phone for the lasagna, then follow her into the bathroom. The steam has made everything slightly hazy, the candlelight creating dancing shadows on the walls. Sam strips off her clothes without ceremony - she's never been shy around you - and sinks into the hot water with a contented sigh.

You take your time undressing, watching as she tilts her head back against the edge of the tub, eyes closed, tension visibly melting from her frame. When you slide in behind her, she immediately leans back against your chest, fitting perfectly in the space between your legs.

"Better?" you murmur, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

"Mmm," she hums in agreement. "Much better."

You reach for the shampoo, working it through her dark strands with gentle fingers. Sam practically melts under your touch as you massage her scalp, working out the tension from the day. It's these quiet moments you treasure most - when all the walls come down, when she lets herself be completely vulnerable with you.

"Want to talk about it?" you ask softly, knowing sometimes she needs to process things out loud.

She's quiet for a moment, letting you work the conditioner through her hair. "It's not just the annoying customers," she finally says. "It's… everything. Sometimes I still catch myself looking over my shoulder, expecting… you know." She doesn't have to finish the thought. You know all too well what ghosts she's carrying.

"That's normal," you remind her gently, running your fingers through her hair to work out any tangles. "After everything you've been through? It would be weird if you didn't have those moments."

She turns slightly in your arms, water lapping at the edges of the tub. "How do you always know exactly what to say?"

"Because I know you," you reply simply. "And I love you. All of you - even the parts that are still healing."

The vulnerability in her eyes takes your breath away. She leans in, kissing you slow and deep, her wet hands coming up to cup your face. You can taste the trust on her lips, the gratitude, the love that sometimes still overwhelms her with its intensity.

When you break apart, she rests her forehead against yours. "I love you too," she whispers. "So much it scares me sometimes."

"Good thing you're the bravest person I know then," you say with a soft smile, earning a quiet laugh.

You stay in the bath until the water starts to cool and your timer goes off, reminding you about dinner. Sam protests when you insist on getting out, but the promise of food - and more cuddles - eventually convinces her. You wrap her in your fluffiest towel, pressing kisses to her shoulders as you help her dry off.

The lasagna is perfect when you pull it out of the oven, the cheese golden and bubbling. Sam inhales deeply, closing her eyes in appreciation. "God, that smells amazing."

You serve up generous portions, adding garlic bread on the side, and settle onto the couch rather than at the table. Sam curls into your side immediately, balancing her plate on her lap. The first bite draws a moan of appreciation that makes you grin.

"Good?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

"Perfect," she sighs contentedly. "You're perfect."

You kiss her temple. "Far from it. But I try my best for you."

The evening settles into a comfortable rhythm after that. You put on one of her favorite movies - something light and funny, nothing with too much violence or suspense - and she gradually relaxes completely against you, her head in your lap as you run your fingers through her damp hair.

"Thank you," she says softly during a quiet moment in the film. "For taking care of me tonight. For always taking care of me."

"Always," you promise, meaning it with every fiber of your being. "You've carried enough weight on your own. Let me help shoulder some of it."

She turns her face into your stomach, hiding the emotion you know is written across it. You don't push, just keep stroking her hair, letting her process in her own time. When she looks back up at you, her eyes are slightly wet but there's a smile on her face.

"Move in with me," she says suddenly, pushing herself up to look at you properly.

You blink, caught off guard. "What?"

"Move in with me," she repeats, more confident now. "You're here most nights anyway. And… I sleep better when you're here. Everything's better when you're here."

Your heart feels like it might burst. "Are you sure? I know how important having your own space is to you…"

"You are my safe space," she says simply, and oh, how those words make your chest ache with love for her. "Please? Say yes?"

As if there was ever any doubt. "Yes," you breathe, pulling her into a kiss that says everything words can't quite capture. She laughs against your lips, bright and happy, and you can feel her smile.

"We can start moving your stuff this weekend," she says excitedly, already making plans. "The closet in the spare room can be your office space - I know you need somewhere quiet to write. And-"

You cut her off with another kiss, amused and charmed by her enthusiasm. "Slow down, love. We've got all the time in the world to figure it out."

She settles back against you, practically glowing with happiness. "All the time in the world," she repeats softly, like she's testing out how the words feel. "I like the sound of that."

Later, when you're both in bed, Sam curled around you like she's afraid you might disappear, you think about how far she's come. How far you both have come. From those first tentative conversations over coffee, to helping her work through her trauma, to building this life together - every step has been worth it.

"I can hear you thinking," she mumbles sleepily against your neck.

You smile into the darkness. "Just thinking about how lucky I am."

She makes a noise of disagreement. "I'm the lucky one."

"How about we're both lucky?" you compromise, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Mm, deal," she agrees, already drifting off. "Love you."

"Love you too," you whisper, holding her close as her breathing evens out into sleep. "Sweet dreams, my brave girl."

And as you follow her into sleep, you think about tomorrow, and all the tomorrows after that. About building a life together, one day at a time, helping each other heal and grow and love. It won't always be easy - you both know that better than most - but nights like this remind you that it will always, always be worth it.

Because at the end of a hard day's work, this is what matters: coming home to each other, finding peace in each other's arms, and knowing that whatever comes next, you'll face it together.

-----------

A/N: "He can talk, then, can he?" - "Of course, he can talk. He's a human being, isn't he?" - "Well if he's your grandfather, who knows? Ha ha ha ha!"

#sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x gn!reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter #melissa barrera x you #melissa barrera x reader #melissa barrera

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jazzsonly · 3 months ago

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ꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱɪᴅᴇ ֹ⠀⠀✶ ⠀. tara carpenter, scream.

warning(s): fem!reader, use of she/her, fluff(?), smut (only implied. not detailed.), amber is alive and sane, anika is alive, no gf au, talks of the readers body being fit and toned, reader is a gym rat, talks of protein intake and meal prep, talks of the gym, friends with benefits, etc.

HC summary: the one where tara is fucking her gym rat neighbor…

ֹ⠀⠀✶ ⠀. masterslist. ֹ⠀⠀✶ ⠀. ֹ⠀⠀✶ ⠀. ֹ⠀⠀✶ ⠀. ֹ⠀⠀✶ ⠀. ֹ⠀⠀✶

it started off as an innocent crush, really. it really did.

see, when tara and sam first moved into the apartment, tara would see you jogging around the complex.

“woah, she’s hot.”

sam, peaks, humoring her sisters comment. she hated to admit it, and she never would aloud but you were indeed ‘hot’

tara figured you must live in the complex as she’d seen you on your morning jog twice but it wasn’t until the third day she had found out you lived right across from her, she were coming home from her afternoon class and caught a glimpse of you, clad in your black alo sports bra with matching, grey alo sweats, entering your apartment

you had shot her a quick smile as you unlocked your door to step in

tara’s little high schoolish crush grew, in fact so much core four made it a running joke

“there’s your neighbor!” mindy perked up, looking out the apartment window

“where?!” tara immediately jumped up from her macbook that sat on the kitchen table, she searched through the window, met with an empty complex

“i’m just teasing you!”

mindy’s obnoxious laugh turned to a harsh “ow!” being met with a tara’s punch in the arm

“i was just joking!”

“why don’t you just ask the girl out already? i mean, she goes to blackmore too and you live right next door to each other—”

tara cuts off chad, who were laid out on the couch scrolling through instagram, “she goes to blackmore?!”

“yeah we sit next to each other in math. she’s really smart, lets me cheat off her.”

“you have to introduce me to her!”

and that chad did.

it wasn’t odd but it wasn’t particularly normal either that out of the blue chad had asked to hang outside of math—i mean, besides him copying your answer you two discussed gym related things and sometimes video games

you were a simple person and chad was a cool guy. why not?

“here comes chad with your dick drop off”

“you mean pussy drop off?” amber counters mindy.

“hey, you don’t know what she has in her pants.”

“will you two shut up?” tara seethes, as she fixes her hair and straightens her posture.

“everyone, this is y/n. y/n this is core four.”

fuck. you looked so good. tara couldn’t even understand how you could look so good in an oversized beat up t-shirt and black sweats. you just always managed to look so sporty and it really turned her on.

“hey! you’re my neighbor aren’t you? apartment 216.” you instantly recognized tara.

little did the carpenter know, you had been watching her too. developing your own little crush. seeing her come home from classes. her skinny jeans and crop top combos never failed to catch your eye. you liked the fact that she seem studious, yet looked like one of those hot popular bitchy girls in the movies.

“yeah, yeah. i’m tara.” you exchange a hand shake.

“y/n here is really into horror games…i told her that’s perfect because we love horror movies. especially, tara, i bet you could talk her right out of her panties about horror movies.”

both mindy and amber, on either side of chad punch either of his arms at the same time.

“excuse, my brother…he lacks social skills, part of his lumped up brain.”

“it’s fine, i deal with him all day in math.” you joke.

“so, horror movies, huh? what’s your poison? slasher, thriller…”

“physiological. like, the babadook.”

“no way! my brother loves that movie. it used to scare me to death when i was a kid.”

you get close to not only, tara but core four rather quickly.

tara eager to get to know you and get in your pants, invited you to movie night immediately.

of course, leave it to mindy and amber to tease her about the way she would hog you.

“ok y/n’s on her way, said she’s in the shower.” tara reads off the text you had sent her.

“she’s gonna be all over her again.” mindy snickers, wrapping her arm around anika’s shoulder.

“shut up, you literally worship the ground anika walks on.”

“duh, she’s my girlfriend.”

it wasn’t long before movie nights with core four turned into just you and tara hanging. first you started to get coffee together,

“i can’t believe you like your coffee black.”

“it feeds my soul. plus, it’s an appetite curver and i’m on a cut.”

“i’ll never understand your gym talk.”

“and that’s what i love about you.” you joke.

then it turned into walks at the park,

“ya’ know, we could be running right now.”

“not a chance.”

then it turned into tara hanging around at your apartment,

“so remind me what a ‘winter arc’ is?”

you continue you cut of the banana that was set to be put in the blender along with other cut fruit and your protein mix.

“it’s basically, like when you workout and diet all winter so when summer comes you’re all ‘hot’ and shit.”

“huh…maybe i need a winter arc.”

“no you don’t. trust me.”

tara pauses, were you flirting with her?

“that’s a compliment.” you read the expression on her face.

“well, if i don’t need one, neither do you.”

“oh, i’m not on a winter arc, hon. this is a lifestyle.” you tease, before turning the blender on.

it wasn’t until a month after nonstop flirting and banter, you and tara had kissed.

you were both sharing a movie night alone in your apartment, you sat side by side under your comforter on your reclined couch.

tara being comfortable enough with you that her head was on your shoulder, mindlessly ignoring the movie as she admired the feel of your body.

“dude, your arms look so slim but are like rock hard.” she reaches up, feeling your bicep.

“why, i do workout you know.” you tease, letting out a snicker.

tara ignores it, letting her hands childish roaming your body.

“you have got to tell me your secret, you stomach feels amazing.” over your fitted black under-armor shirt, tara runs her fingers and nails over your ab’d stomach.

“handsy much.”

“oh shit, sorry.” fuck. did she just fuck things up? come on too strong?

“no, no…” you grab her hand, placing it back onto your stomach.

“i didn’t say i didn’t like it.”

tara looks up at you like a deer caught in headlights, she swallows the lump that’s in your throat, her bottom lip caught in between her teeth as you lick your own lips and eye her face down.

she doesn’t know why she’s so nervous that she hesitates. this is all she’s wanted for the past two months.

she’s in a trance and it takes you finally leaning in to break her out of it.

she becomes hungry and irresistible to you all at once.

this time, she seriously does let her hands wander. she can’t get a enough of your body, you feel hot and cold all at the same time.

her body feels all hot with your hands on her waist.

you firmly pull her into your lap.

for a second you break the kiss, “tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

tara pants, “god, why would i ever want you to stop?”

eagerly, she goes back in for more.

her hands slid up her waist, pushing your shirt up, indicating that she wanted to get it off and you take the hint. breaking the kiss, you reach for the front neck hem of your shirt and pull it over your head. you are left in a white gymshark sports bra.

hastily tara does the same, sliding over her blue crop top , leaving her in a black bra.

“you have a tattoo?” tara runs her fingers over your mid-torso tat that’s just says ‘love’ in cursive. how didn’t she notice this before?

“yeah, matching family thing.” you brush off, softly grabbing the back of her neck to pull her back into the kiss.

that night tara woke up in your bed, and months worth of nights after that.

it almost became a routine, you’d even given her a spare key to your apartment. tara would wait for you while you finished up at the gym. you’d cooked a little dinner, you two would talk, and then fuck.

you weren’t really sure what to call you two and neither was tara. but to be honest it didn’t really matter, all you knew was that you enjoyed the time you spent together and you were only seeing each other.

when anyone asked sometimes tara would slip and call you her girlfriend but you didn’t mind.

you went along with it.

“you make a sexy gladiator.”

“and you make a sexy pirate.” you lean down, kissing tara.

“you and your girlfriend are gross.” amber fake gags in her raven (teen titans) costume.

“at least i have a girlfriend.” tara teases as she pulls you into the obnoxiously loud and crowed house that held a halloween party.

“girlfriend, huh?”

“i mean—”

“i’m just teasing.” you smirk.

the pirate rolls her eyes, “well tease me in another way, you look really hot in that costume.”

━━━👩🏽‍💻 im back…sorta…kinda. anyways finally out of my depression #backtogetherwiththeloml #winterarc #manifesting this was definitely supposed to be a fic but i was too lazy and turned it into a headcon. yes this is named after side to side by ari.

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jazzyoranges · 8 months ago

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Sam carpenter x reader with the song birds of a feather by Billie eilish maybe friends to lovers

Birds of a Feather

Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: you and Sam are best friends. until you aren’t

Words: 8k

A/n: ok we kinda went off script with this one but i’d describe this as friends to lovers with a few bumps. is friends to not friends to lovers a trope?

A/n 2: i have something to confess. i’ve never seen scream 5. that might be very evident in this

Warnings: intoxication, usage of drugs, Richie Kirsch, Sam deals with some hard shit, crying, ghostface aftermath, not a warning but Tara is a cutie, mention of a dead parent, maybe ooc sam cause i’ve never written for her and probably should’ve made a less lengthy fic so i could get a feel for her character but wtv 🤷‍♀️

“Hey- What the heck! What was that for, Sam!?” The young boy yells when Sam pushes him off the swing

“You jerk broke my friend’s crayons. She really liked them!” Sam points a finger at the boy, who’s now dusting himself off

“Yeah? What’re you going to do about it?” He smiles a wicked grin. At least, what would be considered wicked in kindergarten

“I’ll never let you on the swings again!”

“I don’t see your name written on it!”

“That’s cause you’re stupid and can’t read!”

Tears well up in the young boys eyes. He blinks them away, running to tell on the teacher him and Sam share. Sam didn’t care, he deserved the insults anyways

“Sammy? What did you do to Carlos?” You run up to Sam, who’s glaring at the back of Carlos’ head from her seat on the swing

“I pushed him. He broke the crayons your dad gave you!” The Carpenter pulls you into a hug, not wanting to let go

“I know he did Sammy, but it’s not nice to push people” You reciprocate the hug, pulling back a bit to see Sam’s face and how her forehead was wrinkled with her eyebrows furrowed. You thought she was cute like one of your stuffed animals

“It’s not nice to break something that doesn’t belong to you! I did it because he was mean to you”

“You’re going to get in trouble! Mrs. Poppy doesn’t know you were trying to protect me”

“Then I’ll tell her, and Carlos will get in trouble too”

“Samantha Carpenter.” Your teacher’s voice was stern. Nothing like the sweet teacher you were used to. You backed away from Sam’s hug but you don’t go far. You hold her tiny hand with your own and make sure to stay close, rubbing her hand in hopes of comfort

“Is it true you pushed Carlos off the swings and said some mean things?”

“Yeah, but he was being mean to (Y/n) first! He broke her new crayons her dad got her! Mrs. Poppy, (Y/n) was really sad” Your dad couldn’t get you many new things due to being a single father. Especially new school supplies. Usually you’d reuse the crayons you didn’t lose or break from previous years or borrow some of Sam’s

On most days you took the bus home with Sam while your dad was off working his ass off to get you dinner every night. Your dad and Sam’s dad were good friends so Mr and Mrs. Carpenter didn’t mind taking care of you until your dad was able to pick you up from their house. Luckily you two lived in the same neighborhood. Some days you thought all of the stars aligned for you and Sam to be friends

“Is this true?” Your teacher shoots a look at the boy next to her. While your teacher was the nicest woman you ever met, she had a deadly glare. You were happy you weren’t on the receiving end of that stare

“N-No…”

“Carlos if I find out you’re lying, you’re going to be sharing the same punishment as Sam.” Mrs. Poppy seems to calm down a bit, entering her nice teacher mode once again

“F-Fine! I did break her crayons” Carlos pouts, crossing his arms

“Thank you for telling the truth, but what you did was wrong. You also did something wrong, Sam. Instead of pushing Carlos off the swing, you could’ve told me and I would have taken care of it” Your teacher bends down to look at the two kids in the eyes

“Sorry, Mrs. Poppy” Sam and Carlos say in unison

“Thank you, you two. I know you two are good kids and know what’s right”

Your teacher leaves with Carlos next to her and you can hear her faintly ask why the boy broke your crayons in the first place

“I like having you as a friend, Sammy” You hug the girl, who’s long since stopped swinging

“I like having you as a friend too, (Y/n)!” Sam beams. Her smile was one of your favorite things ever

“Can we play house?”

“Yeah! I’ll bring my bear next time so she can be our baby!”

//-//

“I can’t believe you can name your sister!” You were over at Sam’s house a few months after her baby sister was born. You didn’t know what to call Sam’s little sister considering… she didn’t really have a name. It was up to Sam to pick a name but of course she was a Carpenter, wanting the best name for her sister. As a result, her baby sister had no name

Until today, that is. Sam was finally making a decision today

“I don’t know what her name is going to be yet” Sam reaches out a finger to her baby sister who happily grabs onto it with curiosity

“She likes you a lot, huh?”

“She knows I’m her sister”

“Maybe I could help you come up with a name! What’s your favorite letter?”

“I like the first letter of your name but I don’t want it to be that! I need to think of something different”

“I know you’ll think of a wonderful name, darling.” Sam’s mom strokes her on the head as she rocks the small baby in her arms

“Do you have another favorite letter?” You ask

“Uh… I like T?”

“What about Triceratops!” You giggle

“Her name can’t be Triceratops, silly!” Sam smiles

“Tennis?”

“(Y/n), those aren’t names” The now older Carpenter giggles along with you

“What about Taylor? Oh! There’s a girl in our class named Thalia?”

“I want it to be different, though! I like those names but Tara needs to be special.” Sam’s eyes go wide in surprise. Maybe her brain just knew her baby sister was supposed to be named Tara

“Tara?” You repeat. “That’s a pretty name! Hi little Tara!” You wave at the baby in her mom’s arms

“Is this official? Is Tara your choice, Sam?”

“Yeah! Tara is a nice name. She looks like her name would be Tara”

“She does, doesn’t she? Such a pretty name you chose, Sam. Honey, come here! We have our daughter’s name!” Mrs. Carpenter yells for her husband

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Sam smile so wide before

//-//

“Hey, Sam?”

“What’s up?”

“Aren’t you scared of middle school?“

“No, why would I be? Middle school should be scared of me” That was your Sam alright. The most fearless person you knew. As far as you knew, she was scared of absolutely nothing. Not even the dark. Which is why you were reluctant to stay outside on your trampoline after sunset. Which is also why you were curled next to Sam as she pointed out all the different stars

“What if we stop being friends?”

“Don’t be stupid, (Y/n)” The Carpenter pinches your cheek and you yelp while giggling, shoving her hand away

“If we stop being friends, which we won’t, I promise I’ll let you have all of my stuffed animals”

“Woah, really?”

“Yes, really

“Every single one of them?”

“Yes, every single one of them” Sam rolls her eyes

“Even Ghostie?” Ghostie was the panda stuffed animal you got Sam for her eighth birthday. Technically your dad bought it for her but you picked it out

“What! You’re not supposed to take a gift back, I like Ghostie”

“Well, you can give me all of your stuffed animals and I’ll just give Ghostie back to you”

“That makes no sense, why wouldn’t you just let me keep it?”

“Cause then you wouldn’t have given me all of your stuffed animals and kept your promise”

“You’re weird, (Y/n)”

“Hey, so are you! That’s why we’re friends”

“Yeah, I guess so” Sam giggles

The sliding door to your house opens and both you and Sam turn to look who’s there. It’s your dad

“Hey, girls! Sam, your parents are leaving now. Best you go with them, eh?”

“Okay! Thank you, Mr. (Y/l/n)” The Carpenter waves to your dad

“Wait, let me go with you inside! It’s scary out here”

//-//

“Sam! What if we get caught out here?” Your words held concern but you couldn’t stop laughing as Sam dragged you under the bleachers

“Shhh! They’re gonna catch us!” The Carpenter put a hand over your mouth and put one over hers so she’d also stop laughing when both of you sat down on the underside of the bleachers where the grass was

Both you and Sam were currently in seventh grade but there was an eighth grade couple that was constantly terrorizing the younger kids. Sam being Sam, she wanted to end their reign.

How did she want to end their reign? By breaking the two up. Sam slipped a note in both of their lockers about meeting to break up during one of their classes, causing both of them to skip. Your job was to lead a teacher to their meetup and if everything went right, then they would be successfully broken up and in detention.

Both of you hear footsteps and see the couple at the meetup spot. The teacher wasn’t far away, all you had to do was rile him up a little and run away. Did you feel a little bad? Maybe. But in your defense the couple was always making out in the hallways and made everyone passing by uncomfortable. For gods sake, it was middle school! Not high school

You and Sam were far enough away you couldn’t hear them but their body language was enough for the both of you to understand. Your plan was going perfectly. You and Sam were more the vigilante type, not the heroes or the villains

The couple exchanged pointed looks and flailing arms, hopefully arguing about the note. You and Sam wrote… not the nicest things in there

The teacher eventually arrives out of breath but the couple is too busy yelling each other to notice how he’s standing over them. He looks to clear his throat and to their horror, they stop fighting. Success!

“Yes! We did it!” Sam says a little too loudly from the position you two were in. Their heads turn in your direction and you know you’re caught when the teacher stars walking towards you two

“Hey! What’re you two doing there under the bleachers?” His ragged voice yells

Shit.

//-//

“Sam? What’s wrong?” You run to the Carpenter, who’s outside under a tree eating her lunch. Usually she’d wait for you but today seemed different

“Get away from me, (Y/n).”

“Sam, don’t be like that. You know me, you can tell me what’s wrong.” You and Sam didn’t share too many classes in eighth grade. Even then, your friendship still didn’t seem to falter. You’d still hang out after school and help each other study. Sam lashing out at you was never really a problem you two had

“No! You don’t know anything.” Sam shoves you away when you try to put your hand on her shoulder. “You’re useless.”

“Sam, you don’t mean that. Please just tell me what’s wrong?”

“You wouldn’t understand. You don’t understand anything.”

“Yes I do! We always talk to each other, Sammy. Even if I’m not going to understand, I can still listen”

“Don’t say that stupid name.”

“I thought you liked Sammy?”

“See, that’s the thing with you! You’re always so stuck in the past. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“You’re not being very nice right now”

“Yeah? Well you can deal with it.” The last thing you expect Sam to do is push you onto the ground into a patch of dirt.

“We’re done. I’m not your friend anymore.”

“Sam- we can talk about this” Tears pool in your eyes. You try to get up but all that happens is a crawl

“We can’t. You’re weak and pathetic and can’t do anything without me.”

Sam doesn’t look back when you say her name through tears. Sam doesn’t look back when she hears a few laughs and whispers directed at you. Sam doesn’t look back.

//-//

“Heyyyyy (Y/n)!” Sam’s voice slurs over the phone. It was almost one in the morning, what the hell was this girl doing? Not to mention this is the first time she’s even talked to you since middle school. And yet, you still answered without hesitation. Damn you really needed to grow a backbone

“Sam? What’s going on?”

“Nothingggggg whut’re y’doin?”

“I was trying to go to sleep then you called me. Where are you?”

“Why’d y’wanna know? You’re not my momma!”

“Are you drunk? Sam, you’re underage!”

“No fun… I’m wif my friends! We at a partayyy!”

“Whose house are you at?” Grabbing your keys, you race to the door. Your dad was asleep and you only had your learners permit but you couldn’t just hang up on your Sam like that.

“Uh… Tristan? He’s in our uh… what class is he in?”

“Math. Tristan from math, got it” You knew where he lived. You tutored the guy as requested by his parents but he paid you more money to stop coming to his house than his parents did for your tutoring business. How could you say no to free money?

Thankfully he wasn’t far. Thank god for that, you weren’t one to drive at night

You go faster than you hope but luckily you don’t get pulled over. You really didn’t want to go to overnight jail and face your dad the next morning but surely he would understand the circumstances you were in. He knew you, he knew Sam, he knew the devotion.

At least that’s what you told yourself on the way to Tristan’s house

You could hear the house blasting bad music from about four blocks away. It was a wonder how the police hadn’t shown up yet. Unless he paid off them too. You wouldn’t put it past the guy

Were you invited? No. But in all the movies you’ve watched - said movies being Mean Girls - random people just showed up and nobody cared enough to kick them out. So you walked up to the door like you were invited and instantly started looking for Sam

The music was so loud you could feel it in your lungs and couldn’t hear your thoughts. You couldn’t imagine this was the scene Sam was willing to put herself in but then again you hadn’t talked to her in years. Maybe under all those layers she was a party animal at heart

You internally laugh at the thought. Like hell Sam’s actually a party animal

After a bit you find Sam snorting some drug that probably shared the name with a sexually transmitted disease. Grabbing the sleeve of her shirt, you drag her out of the house while her friends groan and call you a party pooper.

“Hey! Wh- what’s wrong wif you!?”

“We’re going home, Sam. I’m taking you home”

“No! T-Tara can’t see me. Wanna go somewhere else…” Sam struggles against your grip. She’s always been stronger than you but in her intoxicated state you could probably carry her like a sack of potatoes if you tried hard enough

“Fine, I’ll take you to my house. You can spend the night”

“Noooo, wanna party…”

“We’re going home, Sam.”

In all of your years of friendship with Sam, she’s never seen you so stern before. The Carpenter keeps her mouth shut for the rest of the car ride.

After lots of trial and error, you eventually get Sam out of your car and into your bedroom with much difficulty. Thankfully your dad was the heaviest sleeper you knew. You search for a shirt and shorts that fit Sam, ignoring her protests of not wanting to sleep

Against your better judgment, you now have your intoxicated ex-best friend in your bed as her sobriety was nowhere to be found

“Why did you call me, Sam? Even in your state I know you couldn’t do that on accident”

“Ugh, friends made me. Wan’ me t’call my first crush”

“What?” You’re taken aback. Did you hear her correctly?

“Tired… m’sleepy”

You sigh, bringing your hand to Sam’s face to stroke her cheek. Your heart breaks when the older Carpenter leans into your hand like a touch starved cat. You wished things would go back to normal but Sam was stubborn. She wouldn’t let you in no matter how many times you tried.

“Go to sleep, Sam. I hope I’ll see you in the morning” You’re only met with small snores

You wanted to hate Sam. You wanted to hate Sam with all your heart for pushing you away and not even looking at her sister anymore

You wanted to hate Samantha Carpenter so badly but you couldn’t

//-//

It’s nine thirty in the morning when you hear a knock at your door. It was a Saturday. Who the hell was up this early? Rubbing the sleep from your eyes and attempting to smooth out your hair with your hands, you begrudgingly walk downstairs to the door. Your dad was at work already and usually you weren’t up at this hour

Looking through the peephole, you don’t expect to see Tara Carpenter in tears at your door.

“Hey what happened, sweetheart?” You bend down to meet Tara’s eyes. They were red and puffy, evidently showing she was crying a lot. And a lot before she got to you

“S-Sam, she-“ Your heart broke when Tara couldn’t let out even a few words without hiccuping and sniffling

“You can tell me later, darling. How about we drink some juice and you can tell me what’s happening, yeah?”

“No! S-Sam’s…” There seemed to be a never ending amount of tears flowing. “She’s gone, (Y/n). She’s gone and she’s gone for good.” Tara runs into your arms, staining your shirt with her tears.

“What do you mean, baby?”

“M-Mom said Sam left a-and isn’t coming back…” Your heart breaks when Tara’s breathing gets quicker and isn’t able to catch her breath

You pick up the younger Carpenter, taking her to your couch. Tara’s on your lap and you’re holding her just like her mom probably did when she was born. It was something your dad always did, even when you got older. Sometimes people just needed to be babied no matter how old they were.

So you start rocking Tara. She’s holding onto you like you’re the only thing keeping her alive and you move her ear to your heart. Placing her head under your chin, you hum a tune that was familiar to you. A lullaby your mom always sung to you before she died

You kiss Tara’s forehead with tears in your eyes. You saw how Sam changed and you couldn’t help her. You knew this day was going to come and you couldn’t stop it. But how could you?

When Sam looked at you with such hatred and anger, you’d wonder if she was still the same Sam that pushed Carlos because he broke your new crayons. When you saw her high out of her mind with people that didn’t care about her, you’d wonder if she was the same Sam that watched the stars with you on your trampoline. When you looked at Sam all you could see was what you two were. Was your Sam even still in there there?

You felt disgusted with yourself. You could’ve done something and yet you did nothing.

You’d never see best friend again and Tara would only remember her sister as hateful and unloving. Memories of Sam would go sour until you only had Tara and Tara only had you as a reminder of who Sam used to be.

When the younger Carpenter sees you also crying, she somehow manages to hug you tighter than she already has. What a lovely girl Tara was.

“A-Are you okay, (Y/n)?” The brunette says in a small voice

“Can I be honest with you, Tara?” You earn a nod from the small girl

“No. I’m not okay. But you know what? I’ve got you and you got me. Thank you for telling me.”

“(Y/n)?”

“Yeah?”

“Mom says she isn’t coming back. Sam didn’t talk to me a lot but I miss her.”

“You’ve got such a big heart, Tara. Did you know that? Please don’t ever lose it for me.”

“Will Sam come back?”

Your breath hitches and for a second you’re left without words in your throat and without knowledge about the future.

“Yes… she’ll come back. Sam just doesn’t know it yet.”

Tara’s mom comes storming in a second later with an out of breath angry expression that slowly softens when she sees how her daughter is nestled in your arms

“Tara, you can’t just run away like that. You made me so scared, you know I can’t run as fast as you” Her mom presses a kiss to her forehead

“I had to tell (Y/n), Mom! She’s Sam’s best friend and she deserved to know”

Her mom brought a hand to Tara’s face to wipe a few stray tears. With her other, she placed on your shoulder with a small nod. Sam was gone. She was gone for good.

//-//

Sam spends her first night away from home in her car in a neighborhood she didn’t recognize. The first night Sam leaves, she holds Ghostie in her arms and hopes it’s enough to keep her safe.

//-//

“You’re hiding something”

“What?” You and Tara always hung out ever since Sam left. Her mom hasn’t been the same since her husband walked out. You offered to be one of Tara’s caretakers to help her mom with the load of being a single mother without Sam or her husband’s support

Your dad wasn’t home very often but every now and again he’d give you random tips on how to raise a teenager. At least, tips he used when he raised you. At first he was skeptical of you taking on the role of caretaker at such a young age but when you employed Tara to use her puppy eyes, it was a losing battle for him.

So Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, Tara was all yours. You’ve been doing this since you turned eighteen and could confidently drive without being nervous at all. Also mostly because you couldn’t be her guardian in the eyes of the law under eighteen

There was a void in Tara’s heart and while you couldn’t fully replace her sister, the least you could do was be there. Which is how you knew something was up when she started picking at one of the things she loved so dearly. Your cooking.

“I know you’re hiding something, squirt”

“You’re crazy, I’m not hiding anything” Tara scoffs

“Hey, I’m not decades older than you. I know when you’re lying” You hated pulling the ‘I used to be your age’ card but now you’re realizing how effective it is when you’re only six or seven years older than Tara

Tara throws her head back, groaning in what seems to be frustration and covering her face. You can’t hold back your snicker. The younger Carpenter was always one for theatrics

“You don’t have to tell me but I could really help you, you know? With how super knowledgeable I am, as you know”

“Knowledgeable my ass, you didn’t know your microwave had a popcorn button until I told you”

“In my defense, I heard you’re not even supposed to use the popcorn button for popcorn”

“Then why is it called a popcorn button?”

“I dunno. Maybe the same reason why Greenland is called Greenland”

“What?”

“Deception. The guy who found Greenland named it that cause he wanted more people to come over. I bet he was lonely”

“Why do you know that?” Tara says in between laughs

“No clue, but we’re getting off topic!” You smile. “The point is, you shouldn’t feel like you have to keep secrets from me.” You reach over to pinch Tara’s cheek and she tries to swat your hand away, ultimately failing. “Well, big secrets. If you cheated on a test or something I don’t care that much”

“Thanks, (Y/n)”

“No problemo, squirt”

So now you were back to silently eating dinner except for your TV playing some sitcom Tara liked. You could handle the quietness. Even if Tara didn’t want to tell you, at least she knew you were there to listen. That’s all that mattered

“(Y/n), I think I like a girl.”

//-//

“What was Sam like?” Tara says out of the blue. “I was thirteen when she left but she didn’t really talk to me. What was she like… before that?”

It was another weekend night that consisted of spending time with Tara. The question catches you off guard

“I don’t think you’d believe me, squirt”

“Well I wanna know anyways. Even if i believe it or not”

“Did you know Sam named you?”

“She did?”

“Yeah, Sam named you Tara. You were unnamed for a while before she came up with anything.”

“Mom said she was mean. Is that true?”

“I mean yeah, but not entirely. When you’re friends with Sam, she’d be the nicest person you’ve ever met. Hell, she’d probably kill for anyone she loved. But when someone messed with a person she loved, nothing could stop her from making her loved one feel better”

“I wish I could’ve experienced it.”

“Trust me, you did. You just don’t remember it. One time when you were little, a kid that was around Sam’s age at time pushed you into the mud at the playground and Sam was furious” You laugh

“You cried and Sam could hear you from where we were playing soccer. She found him and kicked his ass so hard he crawled back to his mommy so we took you and booked it out of there”

“She did that?” Tara covers her mouth laughing, failing to cover it up

“I remember it like it was yesterday, squirt. Sam gave you a piggy back ride and you were giggling the entire time we ran home.”

//-//

“Fuck, Tara! Shit, I came as fast as I could. Are you okay? Oh my god, of course you’re not okay.” You barged into Tara’s hospital room without any concern of who else was in there. You took her face in your hands and scanned for anything wrong until you brought her into a bone crushing hug. “Sorry, stupid question. Holy shit I’m so happy you’re alive, squirt. I am never letting you out of my sight again. Okay maybe in the future I will, but the future is not now! Right now I’m never leaving you again.”

“You’re such a fighter, you know that? Holy shit you must’ve been so scared. Tara you’re the strongest person I know, did you know that?” There are tears in your eyes threatening to spill. You don’t even notice there are other people in the room.

“Deep breaths, (Y/n). I’m okay. Look, I’m right here” Tara takes one of your hands and puts it against her heart. Your eyes can’t hold in your tears any longer. When you cried, you rambled. Tara was ready for the storm.

“Fuck you’re such a sweet girl, Tara. Even when you’re lying in a hospital bed you care about me. I don’t know what monster would do this to you! He obviously doesn’t know what a blessing to this world you are. Please promise you’ll never let anyone stop you from being the beautiful sweet girl you are.”

There it was.

You felt a hand rub your back and your arm. You assumed it was Tara. Until you heard a hum that wasn’t Tara’s. Until you realized this person had rough hands. And oddly smelt like…

“Sam?” Your head whips around

“Hey, (Y/n). I… I missed you.”

“Sam?” You let go for a second and bring your hand to her face. Not in a cute or romantic holding-her-cheek-way, no, you pinch at her cheeks and nose with a questioning look. You poke at Sam’s forehead and nose, still probably in disbelief. Yeah, you were still her (Y/n).

“Please don’t tell me both of you are dead and I’m actually in a psych ward and this is all a dream” You whisper and you can hear Tara laugh behind you

“No, this is all very real.” Sam smiles, taking your hand off her face and gently putting it back by your side. Your eyes go wide and you whip around to look back at the younger Carpenter

“Tara, can I take my attention off you for a second? Will you be okay?” You whisper, knowing damn well Sam could hear you

“Yeah I’ll be okay, (Y/n). Go hug Sam.”

You press a kiss against Tara’s hairline and immediately after, launch into Sam’s arms. Tara could feel it again, you were going to start crying and rambling.

“Sam, I can’t believe you’re here! Well of course you’re here. I always knew you’d come back! I knew you wanted to come back. I don’t know why you left, but I hope you achieved your goal and came back because you missed us. Also I’m really mad at you but for the sake of time we can discuss that at a later time.”

There it was.

“You two are close, huh?” You don’t notice there’s a man with curly hair in the room and you raise an eyebrow at Sam

“Yeah, very close” You say

“Sorry, I should introduce you two. (Y/n), this is my boyfriend Richie. Richie, this is (Y/n). My…” Fuck. Sam couldn’t just say you were her best friend after all these years. After she made your life shit, was she even allowed to call you her friend? What if-

“Best friend. Happy to meet you, Richie”

“Likewise” He smiles. There’s a pang of a certain emotion in your chest you can’t quite place

“Well, I’ll be going now. Feel better soon, Tara” Richie waves at the younger Carpenter and gives Sam a kiss before he leaves Tara’s hospital room

“Do you know if my friends are visiting soon?” Tara asks you. Sam doesn’t know how to feel when she sees Tara treating you more like a sister than her. She knew it was wrong. Sam had no right to be treated like a sister after she just up and left all those years ago

“Amber told me she was getting some of your things from her house. The twins are coming over right now, okay? I think you’ll feel better when you see them”

Sam felt like an alien watching you and Tara talk. Watching you two was like watching everything she’s missed. Sam missed almost all of Tara’s high school experience. Arguably one of the most important times to have an older sister. She shouldn’t have been jealous. She wasn’t allowed to be jealous after all she did to you and Tara

“How’re you feeling right now? Anything I need to tell the doctors?”

“No, I’m feeling okay”

“Hey, can I talk to you outside, (Y/n)?” Sam says almost above a whisper

“Yeah, of course.” You turn to face Tara as you walk out her room. “See you in a second, squirt. Don’t run away” The brunette rolls her eyes at your words

“Guess I owe you all my stuffed animals, huh?”

“You still remember that?” You raise an eyebrow at the girl

“I do. I owe you an explanation, don’t I?”

“An explanation would be appreciated” You weren’t mad at Sam per se, just very very very disappointed. Mostly at yourself for letting her leave

“You remember when I yelled at you that day in middle school? I said I didn’t want to talk to you or be your friend anymore? It’s not an excuse, but I have an explanation.”

You nod along to Sam’s story, listening close

“The night before I yelled at you, I found out my dad wasn’t really my dad. I was going through my mom’s diaries I found in the attic and it was the worst thing I’ve ever done. I.. I found out I was-“ Sam doesn’t realize she’s crying until she chokes on her words and your expression falters. Sam remembers you were always good at comforting people

She’d always get bruises and scrapes when she was younger but you were always there to make her feel better. Fuck, she can’t remember why she would ever leave you. You were the perfect best friend. Always an inviting smile and open arms that were ready for hugs. The only one that stuck with Sam through whatever happened.

Sam was at her lowest of lows when you picked her up that night during the party. She remembers wondering why she’d put you so much pain and worry. She smoothed out the wrinkles on your forehead while you were asleep and felt guilty she was probably the cause of them. That night when you picked up Sam from that party and you had your arms wrapped around her, Sam asked herself why she would ever push you away. She loved everything about you. She loved you.

In her drunken state she remembers wanting to fade away into your memory. At least then you’d remember the Sam that played tag with you and not the one that snorted or drank away her pain. It was the same night she decided to leave everything behind. She decided to leave you behind

But Sam was selfish. She wanted you to tell her not to go. To come back into your arms and for you to tell her everything would be okay. That it didn’t matter she was the bastard child of a serial killer. It wasn’t her fault her dad left. Reassuring her you and Tara would love Sam the same. In a perfect world Sam would’ve still been Tara’s sister and you would’ve been her-

“Hey, look at me. You don’t have to tell me. If this is hurting you so much then I understand why you wanted to run away. What matters is that you came back. You’re strong for that” You pull Sam into your arms, letting her cry into the side of your neck.

Sam didn’t have the heart or the voice to tell you it wasn’t the story making her cry. She feared her voice would fail her and drive you away again. Sam would tell you why she left later

But right now, Sam was happy to be able to bask in your arms once again.

//-//

“Hey, (Y/n)?”

“Mhm?” You and Sam were back at your house getting some things Tara wanted

She requested the teddy bear Amber got her for her birthday, a blanket from her bed, and something better than hospital food. You decided to whip up something quick and simple you knew Tara liked. Frozen orange chicken from the store and fried rice

“I think I can tell you about why I left now.”

“Are you sure? I’m not gonna force you to tell me if it hurts so much to say, Sam”

“No, you of all people deserve to know. Sometimes I can’t believe I’m the same person that said all those horrible things to you and just never talked to you again without explanation.”

“Hey, don’t worry about all that. It’s in the past now and I know you’ve changed. I forgive you-“

“No, (Y/n). You can’t forgive me. You can’t make excuses for me and talk to me like we’re best friends again when I ignored you because I was mad at myself and- and-“ Sam chokes on her words and can’t hide it when you glance at her.

“Oh, Sam…”

“No, you can’t forgive me yet. I betrayed your trust. You can’t forgive me.”

“Sam, I accepted your apology when I saw you in Tara’s hospital room. Whatever you were going to say, I already knew I’d forgive you all the same.”

“Stop saying that, (Y/n). You don’t always have to be nice, you can be mad too.”

“But it’s true, Sam. If I’m mad at someone, I’m mad at myself for not fighting for you harder”

“How can you still look at me even when I left you. Years of friendship, all down the drain because I couldn’t handle being the bastard child of a serial killer that broke her family apart.” You turn off the heat to your stove, walking over to where Sam was curled into herself and sitting near the bottom of the staircase

Taking a seat next to her, you drape your arm around her shoulders and attempt to get her to rest her head on your shoulder. Sam doesn’t let you and fights back.

“Samantha Carpenter, you have been gone for five years. One-thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days, not including leap day. You aren’t allowed to push me away again. If you really want to say sorry, you can start by letting me in.” You take on a faux-mad tone and it seems to work

Slowly, the older Carpenter leans into your shoulder with a sigh. She makes herself comfortable and looks at you through her eyelids. It was weird. Five years out of Woodsboro and four years away from you, yet you still opened up your arms like nothings changed. It was odd. You were odd.

“What’re you thinking about?” You’ve always had a knack for reading Sam’s mind. Whenever she got quiet and her heart looked like it slowed, she was probably thinking

“You.”

“What about me?”

“How I don’t get you”

“What don’t you get about me?”

“I haven’t talked to you in nine years, I show up unannounced, and you’re still acting like we’re best friends even after all this time. I can’t tell if you’re the nicest or weirdest person ever.”

“Can’t I be both?” You smile, trying to lighten the mood. You realize it doesn’t work when Sam shies away from your gaze

“Well, I can be honest. I think it’s because I’m selfish.” That makes Sam look at you again so you decide to keep going

“Of course I’m… disappointed you broke up our friendship and you left without telling me and left your sister and I to believe you were never coming back,” The older Carpenter winces at your words but you don’t let her stop looking at you. Even as you avoid eye contact and place your gaze somewhere else.

“But there’s a part of me that wants everything to go back to normal. I know we’re going to have to talk about it. About us and about why, but right now I think what we need to do is be there for Tara. She’s in the hospital after being attacked by a serial killer and the last thing she needs is her older sister and her best friend fighting. We can do all the yelling and crying and screaming later.”

Taking a breath in, you look back at Sam who’s already looking at you. I’m makes your heart flutter in a way you don’t understand.

“And maybe that’s my excuse. Maybe I never want to cry or yell or scream at you. Maybe I’m putting off the inevitable because I don’t want you to leave again. Maybe Tara is my excuse for not being mad at you. Maybe I’m holding out hope for someone that doesn’t exist anymore. We’re different people than when we were in middle school. I don’t want to cling to a person that doesn’t exist anymore yet here I am, clinging to someone that doesn’t exist like she’s my lifeline. But in all honesty, I don’t think I could stay mad at you for too long. Even if I tried.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” There’s a silence that passes between you two. You can’t tell if it’s awkward or comfortable silence. You hope it’s the latter

“Do you get me a little more?”

“Well, not entirely. But I think it’s a step.”

“Yeah. Steps are good, aren’t they? Keep you healthy.” Sam smiles at your stupid joke.

You don’t miss how Sam still reminds you of looking like one of your old stuffed animals.

“What was Tara like?”

“What do you mean?” The question catches you off guard. The Carpenter sisters seemed to have that in common

“I missed a lot of her life. What was she like?”

“I don’t think she’s changed a lot. Tara is a sweet girl, she’s got a good head on her shoulders and a good heart in her body.”

“But that’s probably not what you’re asking. Tara was… distraught when you left.” You pick your words carefully. “She ran away from her mom just to tell me you left. She said I deserved to know since I was your best friend. It took a while for her to want to let go of me me. It’s when I knew I just couldn’t let her stay like that forever”

You shakily sigh before continuing. You’d have to acknowledge the elephant in the room eventually and you decided it was going to be now. “I know I’m not her real sister. I hope you’ll forgive me for taking a role that was supposed to-“

“Are you kidding?” Sam quickly cuts you off when she registers what you’re saying. “If anything, I’m happy it was you.” The Carpenter lifts her head up from your shoulder to look at you. To really look at you. “I know she has a good person to look up to. I’m happy you two are close.”

You’re about to respond when your ringtone goes off. The same ringtone you had in high school. Some Evanescence song you remember religiously listening to in school blasts from your phone. Usually it was Tara who found it embarrassing when you had to answer it in public but this time it was you with the reddened cheeks. Scrambling to find your phone in your pocket, you pull it out to see it’s Tara calling you

“Hey squirt. What’s up?”

“Are you guys going to hurry up anytime soon? I’m starving”

“Yeah we’re leaving just now don’t worry about it”

“Okay but my stomach is currently eating itself”

“You’ll live. I’ll see you soon, yeah? Don’t go running anywhere”

“At least I don’t run jokes into the ground until they’re dead… pun not intended”

“Hah! Proof you’re taking after me whether you like it or not”

“Whatever, I’ll see you soon. Run red lights if you have to”

“You got it, boss. See you soon” You pocket your phone, getting up from where you’re sitting. Offering Sam your hand, she takes it and you help her up too

“C’mon, our little girl’s hungry. That’s something you should know, she’s got an appetite the size of an elephant and a metabolism as fast as a cheetah” You smile, putting Tara’s food in a lunchbox you had in a random cabinet somewhere

Sam doesn’t trust her voice to do anything but break so she laughs at your comment and you both leave your house

Sam thinks our little girl has a good ring to it.

//-//

“Oh my god. Tara? Sam?” You narrowly avoided the police yelling at you to get away and the caution tape that prevented you from coming any closer. What used to be a house that held fond memories had been replaced with one that only caused you worry. You couldn’t lose both Tara and Sam. You couldn’t lose your favorite girls.

Sam texted you to come over to Amber’s house. That it was a Ghostface emergency and the speed in which you jumped in your car rivaled The Flash himself

“(Y/n)!” Sam’s voice. You run to the sound, dodging and weaving through the paramedics and police officers telling you to leave

Sam finds you with bags under your eyes and your hair a mess. It looked like you were in your sleepwear. Even though you were just in a band tee and plaid pajama pants, Sam feels the need to wipe the blood off her face and clothes to look a little presentable. You always had that effect for some reason

“Sam.” You breathe a sigh of relief, running into her arms. Your choked sobs reach her ears and it’s the saddest sound she’s ever heard. Sam squeezes you tighter. Maybe if she did she’d never want to leave again

“You’re back and you almost left me again. Don’t you know how mad I would be if you died?” Pulling back, you put both of your hands on Sam’s cheeks like you did so many years ago. “You- you-“

“Hey, shh… I’m here. I’m here, sweetie. See? I’m here and I’m never leaving again.” Sam leans her forehead against yours, putting your hands around her waist so she could wipe the tears away from your face.

“I’m here, yeah? We won. They’re gone now, (Y/n).”

“How’re you sure?”

“They’re dead. Both of the Ghostfaces are dead.”

Sam leans in, awfully close for someone who’s just your best friend. Your mind instantly goes to her boyfriend. You know what’s about to happen so you back away, a little weary. The Carpenter furrows her eyebrows looking a little sad, oddly resembling a kicked puppy.

“What about Ric-?”

“Don’t say his name, it’ll ruin your perfect mouth” Sam cups your cheek, running her face over your bottom lip

You have to fight your body to not get hot at her words and actions. “Yeah but- he’s kind of your boyfriend. Where is he?”

“Ex-boyfriend actually. He’s dead, I killed him.”

“Oh. Am I right for assuming that’s a god thing?”

“Very good. He was one of the Ghostfaces”

“One of? Who’s the other?”

“I think Tara should be the one to tell you”

“Well, I didn’t like Richie to begin with. He gave me an odd feeling”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Sam leans in closer to you, a ghost of a kiss hanging in the air waiting to be taken. Sam smiles against your breath and for a fraction of a second you think your heart has stopped beating.

“He got to kiss you before I did.” Something snaps in Sam when you kiss her. A craving she’s always had, a certain desire finally being filled, or maybe even her dreams coming true.

You hold Sam like she’s about to leave again, pulling her impossibly close. You’re never letting her go again. It’s Sam who pulls away first. She’s out of breath but you lean in to steal more kisses before she smiles against your lips and it’s an image you never want to forget.

“Please, you two have to stop doing this.” You whisper, your eyes going wide. “Where’s Tara?” You pull away from Sam, whipping your head around like it’s going to help you find her quicker

“C’mon, she’s over here. Be careful, don’t squeeze her too hard”

“I’m going to squeeze that girl until she knows how much I love her.”

“You might break one of her ribs, darling”

“Squirt, you’re alive!” You run to Tara as her head whips in your direction. You can feel tears pool in your eyes once again and you’re okay with letting them go.

“(Y/n), I was so scared. A-Amber she- she tried to kill me.”

“What? Amber? Amber as in, your girlfriend?” You say shocked, taking Tara’s face in your hands to look at her

“A-Amber and Richie, they-“

“How about we tell (Y/n) what happened later? We need to make sure everyone is okay, including ourselves. (Y/n) can wait, right?”

“Oh I can wait alright. I’m the best at waiting. You can tell me about it when you’re feeling better”

One of the paramedics call over the Carpenter sisters and by proximity, you tag along. A man is ushering them in an ambulance and you’re also about to hop in before he stops you

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but we can’t let you into the ambulance. We don’t have enough space.”

“That is my little girl and that is my girlfriend. I will either be running every single red light, hang on the top of this ambulance, or so forgive me god for what I’m going to do.”

“O-Of course, Ma’am. You can ride in the ambulance.”

“Thank you, sir. You made a good decision today” You pat his shoulder, taking your seat near Sam. You sling an arm around Sam’s shoulders and reach out to hold Tara’s hand.

“Girlfriend, huh?” Tara weakly smiles, looking between you and her sister.

#sam carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter #sam carpenter #scream 5 #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #amber freeman #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #richie kirsch #melissa barrera #melissa barrera x reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x you

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cece693 · 4 months ago

Note

Olá, você está aberto a pedidos? Se sim, posso solicitar uma história de Ethan Landry (Scream VI) com um leitor masculino.

Poderia ter algo com Ethan Landry obcecado pelo leitor tipo Joe de you aí o leitor descobre e o Ethan sequestra ele igual o Joe faz com back

You Belong To Me (Ethan Landry x M! Reader)

Thanks for the request. As I've stated before, I haven't watched any of the new Scream movies, so some of the information might not be accurate. I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Ethan is obsessed with you. So when you manage to discover he's the masked killer, Ethan sees no other choice than to kidnap you.

You didn't consider Ethan Landry a friend. More like an acquaintance. He wasn’t the kind of guy to stand out in a crowd—shy, awkward, the kind of person who stayed at the edge of conversations, almost too easy to overlook. You’d barely exchanged a word with him beyond the occasional nod in class. To you, he was just another face in the sea of college students.

But to Ethan, you were everything.

It started as a creeping suspicion that something wasn’t right. The killings had started months ago—violent, gruesome, and seemingly random. Students whispered about the Ghostface killer, the terror gripping the campus. Some people thought the attacks were personal, while others believed it was all just chaos without purpose.

You didn’t give it much thought at first. That was until weird things started happening around you. Little things, things that felt off. Your stuff went missing—a hoodie here, a notebook there. You’d see someone out of the corner of your eye, just a shadow, but every time you turned around, no one was there. You’d get the feeling that someone was watching, even when you were alone.

And then you found the messages.

A dozen missed calls from an unknown number, voicemails that were just the sound of breathing. Texts that said strange things: “You’re so handsome when you think no one’s watching.” Another: “They don’t deserve you, but I do.” It made your skin crawl. You thought it was some kind of prank—until the bodies started piling up.

People you knew. A guy from your dorm. A girl you’d once gone on a date with. And it hit you—every person who’d been killed had some connection to you. Not close connections, but they were enough to put you on edge. Someone was targeting people around you. Someone was getting closer.

You started paying attention to the people in your life, trying to figure out who could be behind it. That’s when you noticed Ethan—awkward, clumsy Ethan—showing up a little too often. Sitting just a little too close in class. Staring just a little too long from across the cafeteria.

One night, unable to shake the gnawing feeling in your gut, you decided to follow him.

You never expected it to be so easy. Ethan had no idea you were tailing him, walking a few steps behind as he slipped into the old theater building. You ducked behind pillars and crept through hallways, your heart racing. Why would Ethan be here this late?

Then you saw him. Ethan, standing in the center of the empty backstage area, staring down at the iconic white mask in his hands—Ghostface. Your stomach dropped.

Ethan exhaled slowly, like holding the mask was some kind of religious experience. His fingers traced the edges reverently, like it was a piece of art he adored. “It was you…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. But it was loud enough.

Ethan’s head snapped toward you, his eyes widening in shock. For a moment, the mask slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor. “Y/N…” he whispered your name like a prayer. His surprise melted into something far more dangerous—excitement. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

You turned to run, but you didn’t get far. Ethan was fast—faster than you ever thought possible. He tackled you from behind, his arms wrapping around you in a vice grip. You hit the ground hard, the air forced from your lungs. “Shhh,” Ethan whispered in your ear, pressing you down. "Don't fight. You don’t understand. This is a good thing. It’s what’s meant to be.”

You struggled, clawing at the floor, but Ethan was relentless. He pressed something cold and sharp against your throat—a knife.

“Don’t make me hurt you, Y/N.” he whispered, his breath hot on your neck. “I don’t want to hurt you. I love you.” Those words froze you in place, every muscle in your body locking up. This wasn’t love. This was madness. Feeling blood trailing down the left side of your face, you felt Ethan's hand going to your head before darkness consumed you.

When you woke, your wrists were bound with rope, and the rough bite of duct tape was pressed over your mouth. The dim light above buzzed faintly, casting shadows across the basement. It reeked of dust, old wood, and something metallic—blood.

Ethan sat across from you on an old couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he was waiting for you to wake up. When your eyes met his, his face split into a smile—a wide, boyish grin, as if the two of you were old friends and stood up. “You’re awake!” he said brightly. “I was getting worried. You hit your head pretty hard.”

You tried to scream against the tape, thrashing against the ropes. “You're scared,” he said, almost as if he were hurt by it. He crouched down beside you, his eyes searching your face. “But you don’t have to be. I’d never hurt you, Y/N.” He reached out to touch your cheek, and you flinched, your skin recoiling from the feel of his hand. “Everything I’ve done…I did for us,” he whispered, his voice carrying a note of desperation. “Can’t you see that?”

You glared at him, fury rising despite the terror that coursed through you. The tape over your mouth prevented you from speaking, but your eyes screamed the truth—This isn’t love.

He seemed to sense your defiance because the calm in his expression cracked, and for a moment, you saw the darkness beneath the mask of his boyish charm. “You don’t believe me,” he said, almost accusingly, his eyes narrowing as if you were the one who had wronged him.

“You don’t understand,” Ethan hissed, beginning to pace. “Nobody understands.” His voice grew sharper, each word edged with frustration. “You’ve been surrounded by people who don’t even see you—people who don’t deserve you.” He stopped and smiled at you. “But I do. I see you, Y/N. I know who you really are.”

You shook your head, fighting against the tears that threatened to spill. You had to get through to him—had to find a way to reason with him, no matter how deranged he was. You made a muffled sound behind the tape, pleading with your eyes for him to remove it.

Ethan hesitated, his gaze flickering over your face. He approached cautiously, like someone might approach a wounded animal. “You’re not going to scream, are you?” he asked, tilting his head. When you didn’t move, he reached for the tape and slowly peeled it off, the adhesive burning as it pulled away from your skin.

You drew in a shuddering breath. “This isn’t love, Ethan,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “It’s obsession.”

He flinched as if you had struck him. “No…” His voice wavered, but the intensity in his eyes remained. “It’s not an obsession. I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. You were different.” He spoke as though he was trying to convince himself as much as you. “I had to protect you. I had to make sure no one got in the way.”

“And what about all those people you killed?” you asked, your voice rising with desperation. “Were they just in the way?”

His expression hardened, his jaw clenching. “They weren’t important.” His tone was cold now, detached, as though he were speaking about objects instead of people. “Not like you.” He moved closer, his hand gripping your shoulder with an alarming intensity. “You’re special, Y/N. Don’t you see?”

“No, Ethan!” you snapped, your voice shaking. “I’m not special, and this isn’t some romantic story. You’re sick. You need help.”

The words seemed to hit him like a physical blow. His grip on your shoulder tightened painfully before he yanked his hand away, his face twisting with a mix of anger and hurt.

Ethan's eyes darted toward the clock, and his frown deepened, as if he was weighing his options or calculating something in his head. His gaze shifted back to you, and for a moment, there was an almost regretful look in his eyes—like he wished things could be different, as if he genuinely believed this was all for the best.

“Maybe you don’t understand now,” he said quietly, his voice softening into something that almost sounded like pity. “But you will…you’ll see.” He took a step closer, his hand reaching up to brush your hair out of your face. “I have some things I need to take care of,” he continued, his tone unsettlingly calm. “But I promise, I’ll be back soon.”

Before you could say another word, he grabbed the roll of duct tape from the table and ripped off a piece, pressing it back over your mouth, smoothing it down with the same gentle care as if he were tucking you in for bed. His gaze lingered on yours, dark eyes gleaming with devotion. Then, without warning, he tilted his head and leaned in—his lips brushing against the tape covering your mouth in a lingering kiss. It was soft and disturbingly intimate, like a lover’s farewell.

“There,” he whispered against the tape, his lips still inches from yours. “Perfect.” He pulled back slowly, savoring the moment as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I’ll be back soon, Y/N," Ethan promised, a twisted kind of love in his voice. "I’ll make sure no one comes between us ever again."

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czalzver · 1 year ago

Text

lipstick stain

a/n: short little drabble for u cuties

warnings:none

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!reader

summary: in which u leave ur lipstick stain on her bottle.

word count: 500+

You're in history class, your teacher is out of the classroom saying 'it was an emergency' but when others gave that excuse she wouldn't let them go. Your leg bouncing up and down you can feel your mouth begin to dry up; you left your water bottle at home. You don’t know why or how your like this. On Monday it was your school ID, Tuesday it was your glasses, Wednesday it was your binder, and now it’s your water bottle.

“I really think I’m gonna die of thirst.” You say to your friend, as the teacher walks back in to the classroom.

You raise your hand, whilst the teacher ignores you.

“Yes, Ms. L/n.”

“Can I go get a drink of water?”

“No you guys are gonna leave soon.”

You looked at the clock.

5 minutes left. I can survive this, you thought to yourself.

Turns out, 5 minutes felt like an eternity. You rested your head as the pain grew more and more, you looked at the clock once more til it showed 12:59. Quickly people around you gathered their things shoving them into their backpacks. You grabbed your stuff, the bell rang, you just decided to hold onto your stuff. Getting up from your seat, clinging your bag to your shoulder, side by side with your friend.

“Hey, You’ll be fine I’m sure your next teacher will let you get water.”

“I have Wednesday next period, I can get some of her water.”

You didn’t know it yet, but surely your other friend did, you definitely felt someone more than friends toward Wednesday.

“Hey, can I borrow your mirror really quick?” You ask you friend, taking a darkish red lipstick from your bag. She hands the mirror to you, with a big goofy grin on her face.

“Why are you laughing..” You ask with a smile and a confused face all together. You open the mirror looking through it, before touching up the red in your lips.

“Isn’t it obvious?” She tells you. You shake your head, handing her mirror back, walking off before she can say anything else.

You hide behind the door, fixing your hair. As you go inside, you see Wednesday seated in the middle right side. You go over to her, playing your bag down, swiftly taking a seat before anyone else could.

“Hi, Wednesday.” You smile at her, the presence of her just making you warm, which normally to others is humanly, physically impossible due to her cold personality. But you always saw more to her than that.

“Hello.” She said with a monotone voice.

“You think I can get some water?”

“Did you forget your water bottle,” Wednesday turns her gaze at you, your face softening up with her black filled siren eyes. You nodded slowly, “Not surprised, L/n.” She grabbed her water from her bag, sliding it over to you. You internally smiled, grabbing it from the desk opening it.

You took a sip, your shoulders fall in relief, your mouth no longer dry anymore, everything just filled with relief. You close the lid, "Let me get some." Wednesday tells you. You take the top off, sliding it over to her. Wednesday goes to drink it, before seeing what was on the side. Wednesday turned a bright pink, her body radiating with heat.

Your lipstick stain was left.

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idkdudethisisntpermanent · 3 months ago

Text

Keep Your Eyes on Me

tara carpenter x female reader

part i | part ii

summary: You’ve quickly become close with all of Tara’s friends, but her trust issues keep her at a distance from you. But maybe you're able to chip away at her defenses...

word count: 2.2k

————

"I don't get why no one else is suspicious of her!" Tara exclaims looking around at everyone with a frustrated expression. "Mindy? You're literally suspicious of every living thing. And Sam what the fuck, you don't let me leave the house unless I'm carrying a cross bow or something," she exaggerates rolling her eyes.

"Why are we speaking about me like I'm not here?" You whisper to Chad next to you while ripping your string cheese into strands. He laughs but so does everyone else, seems like your whisper wasn't as quiet as you thought.

Tara groans frustrated and heads up the stairs, leaving her friends and you in the living room in an awkward silence.

Sam was the first to break it, "She'll come around, it's just been hard on her you know? Trusting new people and all that fun stuff."

You give her a nod completely understanding the root of Tara's issues with you, it wasn't personal but that didn't mean her distrust in you didn't sting. Especially considering it's been four months since you met the group.

"I am curious though," you speak, "She's not wrong Mindy, you're sus of everyone. And Sam why do you trust me too?"

"Well you met my brother playing pickle ball," the twin speaks. "Pickle ball doesn't really strike me as a psychopathic killer activity," she laughs.

"Neither does string cheese. Can you imagine Ghostface stringing their cheese and eating it?" Sam adds with a laugh.

You don't know whether to be relieved or offended that your habits don't indicate you to be a killer. But you're grateful that the rest of the group clicked with you quickly after Chad introduced you to them.

The core four minus Tara sometimes wanted to smack the girl across the head for being so oblivious and blind to you. Before you met the group Chad being the yapper that he is, explained all that happened in the past year and a half, so you were fairly well equipped with knowledge on how to navigate a friendship with everyone.

Everyone also noticed how attentive you were to Tara especially. You didn't know what it was but you immediately developed a soft spot for the girl when Chad told you all she went through. Meeting her for the first time you instinctively felt the need to protect her but that's been quite hard with her negative feelings towards you, but that doesn't mean you don't try.

————

Sam eventually goes up to Tara's room once everyone leaves and decides to put an end to this. The younger Carpenter looks at her sister from her bed when the door is opened at a speed where its hinges could fly off.

"Jesus Sam, why are we trying to break my door."

"What the hell are you doing Tara?" Sam gets to the point ignoring the question.

"What are you talking about?"

"Y/n."

"Ughhhhhh!" She turns around face planting into her pillow with a groan, hating the topic of you.

"It's been four months and you haven't once given the poor girl the benefit of the doubt." The sister says softly. "I don't know why you're so keen on hating her, it's like you want her to be Ghostface just so you can prove a point."

Tara turns around to respond, clearly annoyed. "Because it's so clear she doesn't have good intentions! I don't get you either sis, you want me to be cautious of people, but it's a problem when its Y/n?"

Sam sighs moving to sit on the foot of the bed, "Tara, do you not see how much that girl cares about you?"

Tara is silent and looks down at her fiddling hands not knowing what to say. She does know how much you care and she hates it.

All those times you would come over to her place with the excuse of "Mindy sent me to grab something" but you always stayed until Sam got home from work, just so she wouldn't have to be alone.

"Clearly you do realize how much she cares for you," Sam says taking notice of her sister's silence and demeanor.

Tara turns red recalling how you would always be attentive to the leg that Ghostface broke a year ago. You would always position yourself so she'd have access to the railing of a staircase. Offer to drive her places that may have seemed like too lengthy of a walk. Straggle behind the group when you realized she couldn't walk as fast as the others. And even deprive yourself of any physical activities that the group was participating in, so Tara wouldn't feel alone when she sat out.

"The damn girl literally sits in the kitchen whenever your hungry ass wants to cook something so you'd feel safer!" Sam suddenly says. "Even I hadn't thought about how being in the kitchen may give you PTSD."

Tara hadn't either. But now that she knew the reason why you'd sit with her in the kitchen, she realized that she did feel much more comfortable with you in there then the times you weren't. After all she did have her attack take place in the kitchen. The brown eyed girl shrunk into her sweater in shame as she recalled how poorly she treated you that day.

You leave the group who were playing an intense round of charades in the living room and decide to join Tara who was alone in the kitchen.

"Hey what are you making?" You smile.

She ignores you and continues to get the seasoning out for the mac and cheese she was making herself.

"Why aren't you playing with everyone else?" Tara suddenly spoke.

"Just wanted to see what you were up to."

"Well you can leave now," she rolls her eyes.

"I'm good, I'll stay here."

"You do know that you aren't winning any points with me by trying to talk to me and forcing proximity right?" Tara says with attitude. "I still don't trust you and if your goal isn't to kill me, but just to get in my pants, then I'm so sorry if I ever made you believe that you had a chance with me." she finishes sarcastically feigning a genuine apology.

"Not my goal," you reply keeping it short. You knew the girl would not receive anything you say, so you got up from the seat you initially took at the island in the kitchen and went to the dining table which was a little further away. Tara thought that you left since she didn't hear any comments from you anymore and her pride was too high for her to turn around and check if you were still there. She couldn't control the frown that was making its way onto her face. That was until she heard you scrolling through TikToks at the table and suddenly felt a sense of relief that couldn't be explained.

She would continue to finish her mac and cheese and tried to hide her laugh from any funny TikTok sounds she heard from your phone. And tried her hardest to shutdown her curiosity whenever she heard your laugh. As soon as she finished making her bowl, she walked out of the kitchen not even glancing at you. She was too stubborn to realize that she hadn't once thought about her attack due to your presence in the kitchen.

Until now.

"That's why I trust her Tara," Sam reveals. "She notices things that I don't. I can't always be watching out for you. You need to have a bunch who have your back, and for that to happen you need to take a chance on people here and there."

"Just think about it. Just separate your idea of Y/n being Ghostface and the possibility that she can betray you. And ask yourself what kind of person is left standing in front you. And is that the type of person you want to take a chance on."

————

Two weeks have gone by since the group last saw each other, and since then you and Tara were able to do a lot of individual thinking. Today the group decided that they went too long without seeing each other and they all decided to go to bar in downtown Manhattan.

Everyone decided to meet at the Carpenter residence, and Tara hated to admit it, but she was excited to see you, but she also felt nervous at the thought of being around you.

You were the last to arrive, and you greeted all your friends with a smile. Tara was waiting with a smile for you to greet her like you always do, but it never happened.

You ignored her.

"Is everyone ready to go?" You say looking at everyone except Tara.

The shorter girl had to compose herself before anyone realized that she was bothered by your lack of acknowledgement. She didn't know how to feel, what in the world were you doing?

The group made their way to the subway in one piece, and the two Carpenter sisters were walking side by side while everyone else was a little ahead.

"What the fuck is Y/n doing?" Tara whisper yells to her sister.

"What do you mean?" Sam replies playing stupid.

"She's not even looking at me?" Tara admits, not caring at how childish she sounds. "Why isn't she paying attention to me?"

Sam laughs at what two weeks of not seeing you and some deep reflection has done to her sister. "I mean what do you expect, it's not fair for her to keep trying for someone who doesn't make the same effort. She's probably done trying." Despite her words, Sam didn't believe a thing she was saying, she wondered what the intentions behind your actions were, but the Carpenter knew it was nothing ill.

Tara makes a hmpf sound, and tries to act unbothered by her sister's words. But the idea of you not having your gaze on her worries her more than she would like to admit.

Meanwhile 20 paces in front the sisters you and the twins are having a interesting conversation of your own.

"I can't do this anymore!" You whine looking at Mindy.

"Girl, stand the fuck up, it's been 20 minutes since we left the house, can't you see that it's already working?"

Chad chimes in, "Honestly I agree with my sister for once, she'll be yours by the end of today."

"W-whoa I don't want her to be mine or anything," you blush. "She's gone through a lot, I just need her to tolerate me, you know?"

Mindy rolls her eyes but smiles, happy that Tara has someone patient like you in her life. "Yeah yeah Y/l/n, now walk faster, it's not like she can run and catch up."

Your jaw drops while Chad drops dead in laughter.

Everyone manages to get onto the same subway cart in one piece, and you realized how much harder it was going to be acting like you can't notice Tara in here. The subway was packed from one end to the other. And you just so happened to be standing next to the only available seat.

You glance at Tara only to see her already looking at you and you immediately look away. Trying to get Mindy's attention you some how try your best to mime to her that you want Tara to sit in the free seat. Though of course Mindy's horrible charade skills translate into real life and she ends up sitting in the seat herself.

You face palm at your friend, and gave up on trying to look out for Tara. But in that very moment you notice a man getting far too close to the girl than you would like. It was a crowded cart so proximity was a given, but this seemed deliberate on the stranger's part.

Acting without thinking, you shove the guy as casually as you can to the side, not realizing that it meant you are now face to face with Tara. Just as you were about to break and speak to her, the subway doors open at your stop.

Tara hated that the doors interrupted the words you were going to say to her, but was grateful that it got her attention off of you before you could notice the blush on her cheeks.

As everyone got off the subway, you find yourself straggling behind the group out of habit. Just as you attempt to quicken your pace, you feel a tug on your sleeve.

Tara looks up at you with her big eyes, and you don't know what to do. This is the first time the girl has looked at you without rolling her eyes or looking away immediately.

"I'm sorry," she mutters.

You didn't know what to say, and continue walking with her by your side, so you don't fall too far behind from your friends. "It's okay," you mutter back looking straight ahead.

You don't blame the girl for her behaviours. Her traumas manifested into something difficult and she was making an attempt to be better. That's all that mattered to you. And maybe you were just too weak for the girl that you would let anything slide, but you were fine with that too.

Tara smiles at you, happy that you weren't giving her a hard time. Happy that you understood what those two words she just told you encapsulates.

Suddenly she grabs you by your arm and holds it as you walk side by side.

Startled by her touch you look at her.

She smiles up at you, "It's easier for you to keep your eyes on me this way. No need for secret glances."

next chapter

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wandagcre · 1 year ago

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drive you mad (part 1) | sam carpenter 🔞

(Mob Boss!Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader)

You’re reunited with your old friend, Samantha Loomis, and she couldn't be any more of a puzzle to you. It doesn't take long to become entangled with her once again – replacing the previously wholesome hangouts; this time you find yourself being in her sheets way more often.

WARNING: dom!mob boss! sam, sub!reader, public sex, voyeurism, mirror sex, praise, degradation, fingering, poor communication, mentions of violence, hints of stalking, sam referring to you in spanish endearments (bc why not), not proofread +18 / men & minors dni. Words: 10k+

[ PART ONE of TWO | Next ]

[ series masterlist ] | [ masterlist ]

You liked the universe and its ways of diverting you into paths you never thought to cross paths once again.

Weeks ago, attending another lousy gala was against your whole will. It didn’t seem necessary to you, finding no difference whether your presence was something that would be amiss to the buffoons dressed in suits of your multimillion dollar company. Sure, you completely detested the idea, yet you gave it a chance, as your good colleague turned into a friend – was nagging you for days before the event. She insisted it was an opportunity (a scenario eerily familiar to your college days as if it was a mere frat party) you thought that might as well maximize these so-called connections, right? So, you caved in and went dressed to kill, anyway.

Funnily enough, the said colleague was nowhere to be seen even if she was the sole reason of your presence here tonight. She claims that she had the flu and so you were forced to take in the hors-d’œuvre by yourself.

Here you were, in a fitted beige-colored pantsuit. You didn’t know whether it was your fake it ‘till you make it mantra during work, but you managed to survive (so far). Sipping in your flute of champagne and socializing with people. Your feet were starting to ache and so were your cheeks due to the endless polite smiling you have done for the night. It was draining, so to say.

Just as you were on your way to the bathroom to do some touch up, a recognizable voice made its way to you.

“Please do tell me that you went here without a date, (y/n/n).” a sultry voice uttered directly on your ears and you turned to them too fast, almost getting a whiplash.

You haven’t heard of that for a while. It was a nickname that your closest friends and family called you by.

Lo and behold – it was Samantha Loomis.

Your eyes fluttered as she left you flabbergasted for multiple reasons. Sam had you putting your hand on your chest, beating madly as if you’ve seen a ghost.

“Shit. Sam, you scared me, Jesus. Can’t you say hello like a normal person?”

She bodied the suit better than every man in the room. Sam stood with hands in her pocket, an aura that can easily rival anyone else’s confidence in the room, her jet black hair was fixed in a neat ponytail. She was donned in a well put navy blue suit – truly tailored to her perfect figure, emphasizing her good attributes. Damn this woman. Sam was still taller than you and insanely oozing with attractiveness.

Another thing? This woman was the one you were silently pining over during your teenage years. You were also heartbroken when she left town abruptly, leaving no trace behind.

“Finished checking me out?” she says, cocky. “Not one hi for me? you’re still easily frightened, (y/n/n).” a smile ghosts on her face as if Sam knew a secret. “So, how are you? If you’ve got a mystery date for tonight, I’d say they are doing a bad job of keeping you entertained.”

“Hi. Happy now?” You immediately blush at her blatant flood of compliments. “And I’m fine. Really, I’m just here to enjoy the drinks and all, maybe a bit of expanding in the work field too. So, it’s definitely just me – a last minute decision.”

Sam nods, eyes trailing on you.

“I’m more than happy to hear that. ‘Cause that also means I can do this–?” she reached for your hand and pressed her lips at the back of it, making you flustered more than ever.

You weren’t used to Sam being this direct. She was affectionate, but not to this extent. She was more laid-back as you recall, not as forward and not this flirty. Women had always been your achilles’ heel but to experience this with Sam in the present time – it was a no-brainer that your old feelings were being tested.

“You always do this to the women you encounter?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Just you, (y/n/n).”

The way she kept saying your nickname felt too intimate as it was the one you were previously called back in one of the towns you used to stay in. One that Sam was a part of until she moved again – a common occurrence in her life that she mentioned in passing – albeit you were somewhat expecting it, you didn’t actually think it would hurt that much still.

You were by each other’s side all night. She blossomed into a refined and sophisticated woman, answering questions from other gentlemen and business people in the room with unshakable confidence. It was apparent too, with how they looked at her with respect. Sam even introduced you to others too, by your respective job and all, definitely buttering up your good qualities too that you haven’t even realized that this was benefiting you in your long forgotten plans of exposure.

“I don’t think I should be with you Sam,” you whisper close to Sam who had her eyebrows furrowed at your words. “Whatever your business is, it’s definitely beyond what I do. Wouldn’t it be sketchy? Or like using you? Because that’s not–”

“Now slow down, honey. It’s no problem with me. Honestly, I was just thrilled to have you by my side tonight and you deserve the good word and all. It’s still me, (y/n/n).” she assured you as she held you softly by your shoulder.

Exhaling the distress away, your stomach soon fluttered at Sam’s intentions.

“I’m having fun too, just so you know.” You truthfully admit, stopping a stupid smile to spread on your face. Sam gleamed at your words, evidently content as you are.

Soon you were catching up a little with life. Sam asked you how long you have been away from your hometown and what brought you to a new one. You sheepishly say that a new start was long overdue for you and interestingly, Sam returns the same sentiment, albeit there was longing in her tone but it disappeared quickly as it went. Before you could attempt to pry for more, a new set of people were catching up to the two of you, making you sigh.

Sam murmured to you after the man had left. “That man is definitely a no. He’s got a good history of attempting to shag his secretaries. Bound to be kicked from their board soon. I assumed a terrible workload and possibly environment, too.”

“Noted. Crossing that one out immediately.” You snorted at her unfiltered yet helpful tip. “He was rather creepy with how he was staring.. It’s like his first time seeing a pair of boobs during Victorian times.” you quip and laughter filled your chest.

“Did he now?” Sam squinted her eyes. “Well… you’re absolutely a sight for sore eyes, alright.” You see her eyes now surely over the valley of your chest.

Was she really checking you out?

Another new information for you is that Sam had apparently grown playful. You were astounded to receive her gaze, you elbowed her side. “I’m just saying! But him? oh he’s not worth your time, is all.” Sam reasoned, petulant.

“And you’re no better.”

“Excuse me, I am. I was simply admiring you.” she quipped at you very quickly and sipped her drink.

“If you say so. And hey, what about her?” you subtly point at the tall, middle-aged woman you met earlier.

“Uh-uh, also a pass. Better CEO than him and the others, for sure, but you could do better. A bit of the same as the old man, just a woman version of him on a somewhat low profile.”

You look with much interest now. For two different reasons – one, because you didn’t expect that and two, how exactly of a big shot was Sam to know all of this insider information?

“Doesn’t sound bad to me.”

Not for me. Sam murmured as she sipped on her drink. You look at her quizzically, obviously not catching her words.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I said, what about that one…” Sam subtly points out another person across from you.

She listed out the company’s stand point, what they were looking for, and you momentarily tuned out – savoring her voice that melted in your ear.

“How do you know all of this?” You blurt out.

Sam was sporting a distant tight-lipped smile. “I own a few businesses from here and there. Can’t spill them all to you in one night. I have to remain mysterious so I can be interesting for you, don’t I, honey?” she tilted her head.

For the hundredth time that night, your heart pounded and cheeks were crimson once again, all by Samantha Loomis.

This morning as you flipped through the channels, it reported the death of a wealthy CEO, stabbed in most inhumane ways and his eyes were reportedly gouged out.

Momentarily, you felt sick to your stomach until you realized that it was the same man who was a creep from the gala. You vividly recall Sam's words; with this man's business fluctuating badly and his poor work ethics, your thoughts gradually eased and snapped yourself out of it. He did see that one coming, you suppose.

You couldn’t be any more grateful that you’re far from that circle.

While you were terrified, it didn't stop you from going outside by yourself. Normally, this routine of yours is done during day time. However, resting got the best of your time this weekend and so with a resigned sigh, you came prepared with a pepper spray that you blatantly held as your free hand pushed the cart. Your stock of groceries wouldn't be done by itself, after all. Were you paranoid? (The answer is yes, rightfully so).

The mundane chore was going well.

Until you were on one aisle, on your tip-toes, barely reaching the chips that were now placed a tier higher than normal. It’s like a trick and you were being played, as coincidentally, it was the last one on the rack. You irrationally listed this as a bad sign - change wasn't to be welcomed for you in times of horror.

The lighting grew dark and it shadowed you. it triggered your fight or flight mode as this person towered you from behind, the scent strongly engulfed your senses and so did their body frame, making you gasp as their front was almost pressed against you.

They picked up the item for you and as you turned around, it was Sam.

She hasn’t preoccupied your mind for a while and you take in her presence as a fresh breath of air.

"Hey, pretty girl, I don't want you getting hurt." She joked and dropped the chips herself on your cart.

"Fancy seeing you here," you retort with equal amusement to the woman in front of you. You thought it was unfair that she always stunned you as you saw her casual get up.

Sam wore a bomber jacket and a navy baseball cap. She handheld her own cart and interestingly filled it with junk food, just like yours, and a couple of cleaning disinfectants.

"Do you usually shop this late?” Sam quips gently, hearing the concern in her tone.

You sheepishly smiled, "I know. But in my defense, work kept me late unfortunately. Or maybe it was me over napping..." admitting it out loud felt silly. "I don't have much of a choice. I ran out of stash in my pantry and while it's not really a good time.. wait, I don’t mean that with you, but what I meant is that, given the circumstances happening right now - it’s horrifying to be out and about."

Sam raised an eyebrow at your rambling. She found it endearing that you had to clarify each time how you liked her company.

"And what circumstances are we talking about?"

"You know, the whole killing thing," you hushed down low and kept walking with Sam who hummed right behind you. "Haven’t you heard it yet? It honestly had me worried. I don't want to be put in that position."

You both come across the isle of candies, you picked up a couple of them. Embarrassment soon crept in the more you confided your fear out in the open and how you revealed your unhealthy fix of snacks in the presence of Sam, the woman you're swooning about.

"I see. That explains your trusty pepper spray," Sam nodded along in understanding. "Say, do you mind if I accompany you? Sticking together could be better, after all." she lightly nudged your side with her arm and swiftly took over to push your cart by her own.

An easy smile crossed your features. You can't say no to spending more time with her.

"I'd like that very much."

The simple scare and business exchange was the start of your reconnection with Sam.

It seemed that Sam was sticking for good - or near you. At least, that’s what you thought so. Her place couldn’t be that far as you happened to come across her for a few times already.

A few days later she surprised you, sent a rather straightforward message and opened up how she misses you (you almost fainted on that message). Come the weekend, Sam called you to say that she’s sending a driver to pick you up around 6 PM. After you gave her your address, Sam notes to dress in nothing strict and formal as the gala, and you quote Sam who said in her own words: just bring your pretty self.

It was rather bossy and forward, if you were being honest. Though your senses dulled it out of bias, being Sam’s friend in the past she hasn’t done anything to put you in harm.

Another thing that brought you to a conundrum was how it sounded like a date but you didn’t want to be that hopeful – even with her endless flirting. You simply note it as another Sam evolution; a part of her confident self. The driver who picked you up was dressed in casual business attire, no older than late 20s, gave you a polite smile. He introduced himself as Martin and referred to Sam as Ms. Loomis and as you were in a phone call with her, she immediately confirmed to you that it was indeed your ride.

Relief washed over you, feeling secured enough with the whole get up. Especially with the case of brutal murder as of recently.

Arriving at the place, the door was opened for you and he mentions that he’ll be parked at the same place. The restaurant itself was one of the places you haven’t had a chance to visit yet, mostly because you didn’t feel zealous to spend a lot of money on a glorified casual meal. The ambience striked your interest immediately, the interior was cozy, and welcoming – especially for whatever they served, the aroma made your stomach rumble.

Looking around, it was opposed to what you expected – there was no single sight of business suits hovering in the place. They were stuffy people in casual attire, maybe.

“You made it.” Sam stood up from her seat and your eyes fluttered at her beauty once again. Her floral scent was hypnotizing and covered your senses as she went for a hug. “How was your ride?”

“It was nice. I like your car,” you timidly say as Sam pulled a chair for you.

“And I like your outfit. You look so beautiful, (y/n/n.)” Sam’s words were earnest and crimson quickly spread on your cheeks and rose up to your ears.

The stark contrast of her in formal attire with slick ponytail was apparent, yet equally so attractive. Sam stood in plain tight polo, baggy pants and some sneakers with her hair loose. She gave you a warm smile and her eyes also did a once over to your figure; you were dressed simply in a knitted zip top that hugged your torso, some trousers, and decent platform shoes.

“Says you. You’re absolutely charming, it’s unfair.”

“Don’t start that with me, honey. We’ll be here all night arguing about that.”

Sam grinned at how you affectionately rolled your eyes at her quip. As you settled in and looked at the menu, you noticed the familiarity. It was on par with your tastebuds. She definitely remembered your type of crowd. You hid a smile with this information.

However, your joy was temporarily cut off as you noticed the server giving Sam the heart eyes as she took note of the order, although the latter paid no mind, swiftly reiterating your orders with her polite smile, it didn’t stop you from getting irrationally bothered on the inside.

You should have seen this coming. Surely, other people were bound to find Sam attractive as much as you do.

“Have you ever been here?” Sam eagerly questioned, her doe-eyes all on you. “I was nervous to pick a decent place, to be honest. I didn’t want it to be stuffy and stiff, but not too casual – only because I wasn’t so sure with your taste now, so I relied on my (y/n) senses.”

You were quick to nod off, “No. I was interested but I never had the chance.” a slow appreciative smile spread on your lips. “Your senses were right - don’t worry, Sam. They definitely serve the type of food I like. I hope you didn’t compromise that much for me." While you liked the thoughtfulness, you wanted Sam to have a good time as well.

“Well, that’s great! It means you can enjoy it with me that way. Don’t worry, based on their menu it seems appetizing for me, too.” her eyes lit up assuring you, and it was an adorable sight. She showed you another side of her again, reminiscent of how you remember her relaxed state and wasn’t as constricted from the gala held days earlier. “I have to ask.. is this setup okay with you? In case you’re… seeing someone.”

You’re surprised at her interest at your love life. Her attention remained fixated on you and it made you blink couple of times.

“Definitely not seeing any woman right now. Nothing recently.” you hint your preference, in case Sam hasn’t picked up on it yet even before. You haven’t come out back then.

Sam smiled at your response. “That’s a relief. Means I won’t be breaking any faces any time soon.” your eyes widen at her words. “I’m kidding, (y/n/n). Or not.”

You nod along at Sam’s words with an unsure smile, not knowing what she exactly meant by that. You shrug it off as her odd humor.

“What about you, any lucky person yet?” you asked, it was your chance to know more about her too.

A playful smirk was written on Sam’s features.

“Funny thing is that it's the same case for me, I haven't gotten around it for uh, for some reason.” she ended sheepishly and shuffled a bit on her seat. “I could be eyeing on someone, who knows. But I have to be mysterious to you.” Sam’s voice dropped an octave lower. If you didn’t know any better, your delusions would think that she’s implying suggestively to you.

While her vague answer didn’t provide you what her type was, it was a relief for you to know that Sam is not off the market yet.

Both of your smiles barely wore off since then. Soon you were finally eating your go-to food and Sam with her chosen pasta. You debate whether you should finally ask Sam of her sudden disappearance, but you really didn’t want to spoil the mood either.

“Are you okay? Something wrong with your meal?” Sam leaned in to you and you quickly motioned no.

“No, no. It’s just– I want to know, why did you have to leave?” you can’t help it but the hurt dripped on your tone. “It was so sudden and I haven’t heard from you since then… and now, you’re here again.”

You felt silly because it was a long time ago. Seeing Sam in flesh again gave you a whiplash, you valued her presence as she was your confidant during your hard times. If it weren’t for the gala, maybe you’d be left wondering until now, you’ll never know.

Warmth covered your hands, surprised that Sam has taken them to intertwine with hers.

“I can’t say the full details yet. But.. I’m here to stay. Believe me, honey. What happened then - it has something to do with my father. You knew how unstable things were at home, right? And I was expected to… step up into things at a faster pace than I can ever imagine,”

You only had a slight idea – if Sam before wasn’t very talkative and open – it was a thing that definitely remained until now. Sometimes their house was rowdy, full of men that wore notable sparkly ostentatious accessories. You only knew that his father’s job was demanding and that he was uptight, didn't want Sam to be out late, she had to sneak to parties, and was harsh with his words - even in front of you. It reflected the fear that glinted in Sam’s eyes when you were caught at their house, at the same beat, Sam also seemed to respect him. It was odd and the similarity of her tone was not lost on you but you didn’t push further.

You also wondered how Sam's sister, Tara, is doing and most likely all grown up now.

“Is it enough for you right now?” Sam meekly asked you, hopeful glint in her eyes.

You mimic her playful smirk from earlier.

“Only if we get mint ice cream right after this and I’m paying.”

Sam let out a relieved sigh, leaning back to her seat and an easy going grin gracing her features once again.

“Alright, whatever your heart desires, (y/n/n).”

After a wholesome reunion (or date?) the two of you were on a weird loop. At least for you. She was bearing gifts that weren’t so little at all – packages were being sent to your house, always coming with a handwritten note that said ‘reminded me of you’ with a scribbled wink, sometimes a heart, and seeing Sam became a part of your routine. It was all you looked forward to every week – seeing Sam – that your friends even asked whether you were dating someone as you appeared more occupied than ever.

At this point, you have visited restaurants and stores you could only imagine. Sam mentioned that having to try delicacies with you was a terrific experience, she liked your honesty and fun quips of critique. Although it shifted to something you’d say – a bit odd. While she was warm and welcoming, she never stopped by at your house.

Although you weren’t going to lie, it made you curious. Disappointed, too. Was she embarrassed enough to avoid being seen dropping by in the eyes of the public, in an intimate way? Granted, there wasn’t anything intimate going on.

Other than that, it dawned to you how tactile Sam was with conversations. It was always knowing something new and familiar, never delving into something deeper.

For her sweet quips, you remain confused whether it was flirty and intentional, after all, you didn’t think that Sam was to take interest in you romantically speaking. So, it was a challenge for yourself to not get any less flustered. Especially when you’re crushing over her.

"Hey, pretty girl. Wanna eat out tonight?" Sam smoothly asks you from the other line and you snorted at her forwardness.

You peer over your window at the kitchen before shutting the blinds. You didn’t know whether it was still the lingering paranoia you felt over the gruesome murders and the irrational fear that you could be next.

What if they were watching you?

"Dunno Sam," you scratch your nape, debating your answer as you remembered the events happening outside. "Is it safe? A brutal death happened recently. And you know, honestly, Sam – it rattled me a little more than I thought it did."

"Is this about the CEO? Honey, I've told you that he was already in deep shit. his decisions have probably caused him to dig himself into a bigger mess unimaginable."

The lack of care in Sam’s tone surprised you a little. But your mind weighed in the facts; these were billionaires who fucked up, didn’t do anything good for the others, and put themselves in the wrong crowd. You give Sam credit for that similar thought as you assume.

"Okay, but still…"

You hear Sam cooing in sympathy. "If it helps, I have my men around. We’ll be safe. You’ll be safe with me, don't worry." she promises with conviction enough for you to believe her.

You hummed as you rethink your answer. You wanted to hang out with the woman you've been crushing over (again) and having an idea of how her bodyguard's in question are built, you feel yourself leaning more to saying yes.

"I guess that helps yeah- you just had to be so damn convincing, didn't you?" Even if this was a call, you can already see the stupid grin that Sam has now. "Alright, I'm sold with that. I'll see you later, Loomis." you playfully sing-songed to which Sam giggled as you dropped the call.

“Let’s try something new today.” Sam said in her low voice and to your surprise she held the car door open for you in the passenger seat and you weren’t in the backseat this time.

“Don’t we always?” you refer to your eating escapades with her.

To your shock, Sam went to the driver’s seat.

She was the one driving for today?

“Nuh-uh. We’re going to my house.”

“What?”

You turn your head fast to face Sam with your expectant eyes; filled with surprise and excitement. After all, your brain was racking itself with much curiosity of what is going on with your friend slash crush’s personal life. When Sam caught the glee in your expression, her own eyes crinkled at the corners and muttered something about how adorable you are.

As you parked outside, you noticed familiar vehicles that tailed the one you and Sam were in. You only saw a few of them before, the men only looked at you out of politeness – as if their eyes weren’t around to linger – and they were more pliant with Sam. It instilled an idea that your friend was this much of a respected person.

“Don’t worry, they’re with us.” Sam informs you and you were shy of how evident you were glancing at the side and at the back.

You took tentative steps inside her home, surprisingly it was bursting with colors. It was apparent that Sam liked the idea of experimenting when it comes to style, as her interior and decorations felt straight out of magazine.

In her living space, she offered for you to sit first. She looked messy this time – not as neat after work, her hair down again instead of the usual ponytail, which seemed unnatural for someone so polished for her professional state.

“This was all of a sudden, sorry. I can’t… I’m a shit host for tonight. I’m honestly not feeling well today. I can get someone to fetch our food, whatever you like, it’s on me mi quierida.”

“You could’ve postponed this thing that we have. I mean, I don’t mind.” Okay maybe that was a complete lie – but you didn’t want Sam to feel forced.

Sam tilted her head. “And risk depriving myself of not seeing you? I do mind that. More than you can imagine. I guess you could say that I selfishly wanted you all by myself tonight, regardless.”

You feel somersaults in your stomach – making you squirm at your seat. Before you can process her words further, your attention panned to Sam’s hands and grew alarmed as you saw a faint view of her knuckles were red, you figure it'll be bruising the next day. She tried to hide it a lot as soon as decent lighting was present. Sam discarded her silver watch and then removed the champagne from the bucket near her to submerged her closed fist as it contained ice. It clinked against the metal, and as seeing her face, her chestnut eyes kept fleeting over you – observing.

"What exactly were you doing anyway?" Amusement was in your tone, although concern crept in quickly. You didn't want Sam to be hurt in some fight club. Or any way, for that matter.

Sam beckons you, "Come here." she softly uttered. as you did, her free hand rested on your lower back. "I ran into a small inconvenience. I guess you can say that I handled it well."

You snorted at her poor joke. A boyish smile spread on her pretty face.

"If you're joking with that shitty pun… I'll take your word for it, Loomis." You slid an arm around her neck, patting her shoulder affectionately.

It was truly a gesture meant to be playful but it appeared that it became a cause to shift things between you two. The proximity made you hyper aware with your heartbeat pounding loudly by the minute. You can’t even look Sam in the eye, remaining frozen.

"Uh-huh. You should trust me with it, mi quierida. You know I always mean well.”

Sam smirked, as though she knew something you didn't. She was difficult to decipher at most times but you shrug it off, noting it as a part of her charm. It was her thing thenand apparently, until now.

Case in point: her sneakily trailing her hand lower as they were, now resting on the slope of your ass. She grabbed you by its underside, feeling her fingers digging into the flesh. Knees growing weak at the contact, you barely stifle a gasp. It was surprising yet very welcomed and better than you imagined.

She rubbed her calloused hand back and forth on your back soothingly. "Stay... stay the night with me.'' Sam whispered as she nosed the crook of your neck, her breath against your skin spreading goosebumps.

It was an all-too familiar scene, however, Sam was bolder.

“Let me give you your present for tonight,” Sam husked out, her face moved to bite on your earlobe – her hands needy all over your body. “or… just say the word and I’ll stop,”

You were pulled in, moaning as you finally cracked through the tension. Both of you no longer teetering in friendly boundaries. It was hard not to – not when it was Sam you adored for a great chunk of your life and how her siren eyes were pierced onto yours. As Sam was nervous, you were simply stunned and returned the same feeling as you did.

"Okay,” you responded shakily yet you moved with an ounce of bravery, finally affirming your answer by grabbing Sam by the nape and lips crashing with much need, electrifying you.

Sam devoured you in her satin sheets until you were swollen, frazzled, and dripping.

The next day, you discover that another case of murder has happened in your town. This was an odd occurrence, as while death is inevitable, it was surprising to hear more of them happening in a short period. More so, it was unusual to hear of a brutal case in your normally nonchaotic town.

Fear began to creep into you as your colleague mentioned it was another CEO yet, this time it was the woman whom you've also met from the gala – being there, meeting these people and hearing them as nothing but reported deaths now felt like a bad omen. It created quite the buzz in your workplace, after all it was one of your company's competitors, too.

Shiver ran down your spine; you couldn't be next, right?

If you were to follow the pattern, it only suggests isolated killings of wealthy figures and you couldn't be any farther from that. You were another normal person who’s only trying to get by.

Then you remember Sam and the extra security she provides to you. All this time she had kept you safe and away from harm. You found solace over the thought, so you exhale and tried your best to let go of your worries.

In all honesty you were only expecting to pull connections that can land you higher positions that promised bits of grandiose escapades in between – all tied to your work during that gala – and you’re surprised that you landed in Sam instead, though in a much more compromising position that ignited your whole body for days. Sometimes you can’t even move due to soreness. More often, you burned and yearned for Sam’s touch.

It’s like the woman imprinted on you.

Sam finally brought you to her actual place which was a good breaking point. As soon as you saw past the soaring entrance and the modern architecture that greeted your wide eyes. So far, it appeared that she was indeed the only one based on your frequent stays – only men in between casual and formal attires, some being her bodyguards and maids as well were around the area.

You were surrounded by a lavish wardrobe that you can only dream of. You were amused that you share similar skin-care products as her when you first used her personal bathroom. It was a good coincidence, it made your stay-ins much more comfortable and efficient.

The spacious place felt intimidating to your bones as you walked around halls and doors after one another, although you’ve handled much more terrifying things that were specifically this she-devil.

It was a surprise to you how she can swoon you with her gentleness and barely any of that remains in the bedroom activities. She was absolutely rough and domineering.

She continues to take you to different places you’ve never been to before. Though, now they were private and more high-end properties. Today, Sam took you today to where you wouldn't normally get your sexy undergarments.

It was sultry and inviting to the ladies. The assisting ladies were polite, kept a minimal distance, and didn’t blatantly stare unless their attention was called to. You and Sam came by fairly early, hence the lack of people, you assume. You were fascinated with the quality of the garters and fabrics that felt different on your fingertips.

One of her men, Martin, stood by inside the store. Sam assured you that everything was fine, it’s only a precaution and more of a just-in-case business thing. She kissed you before you could ask anything else, effectively distracting you.

Finally having both of your picks, you were welcomed by another part of the area where the sconce's recessed light only added to the thrill that was covering the lavender hall of the boutique. It certainly made the atmosphere downright sinful and erotic. For a minute, you thought that maybe you can handle being Sam’s dirty secret. You felt so dizzy. Feverish. Needy.

Sam placed a final kiss to the side of your neck before she was gently ushering you to go, seeing the familiar look of hunger in her eyes as if she was controlling herself - it made you shiver with the same desire - then you went in to fit.

You nervously stood in front of the mirror, doing final touches on the laces. Sam insisted that she prefers seeing you fit the lingeries instead of her dropping them on your face out of nowhere – something you appreciated.

Slipping yourself into the intricate laces of the lingerie, you were unable to stop nitpicking on the blemishes and stretch marks that were on your skin and how apparent they were beyond this flimsy material that attempted to cover your intimate parts.

“Don’t forget to show them to me, alright?” Sam hollered from the other end.

You try to suck it up, being snapped out of your insecurities. “Wanna come in here?”

“No, come out here.”

In disbelief, you shook your head no even if Sam couldn’t see it. What did she mean by that?

“Are you crazy? There’s… there could be people out. Just come here,” you whisper-yell to Sam.

“There’s no one. We arrived early and just – trust me. It’s only me out here, seated, completely alone.”

You hesitantly move the curtain in the fitting room and step out. Indeed it was silent and no one was there just as Sam reassured. It helped that the room was actually just for the two of you. As you stood there, you felt so naked and raunchy, being were dressed in nothing but lingerie.

“What’s the verdict for this?”

Sam was manspreading on the emerald upholstered chair and you stood in between her legs, inquisitive.

“Oh, baby.”

“How is it…?” you fiddle with the laces, not meeting her eyes.

Sam looks at you with her mouth agape. She didn't say much but surprise was written on her face. You cannot help but overthink still, as your skin wasn’t flawless nor ridiculously skinny like any other models that Sam surely had been entwined with at one point… or even now.

“Hey, are you feeling okay, (y/n/n)?” Sam questions and taps on her thigh. “You aren’t comfortable with this one, are you?” she worriedly asks, her hands on your side, rubbing to soothe you. “Because you look so stunning to me, god,”

You refuse to meet Sam’s eyes, “I- I don’t think I look flattering at these. I’m no model, Sam. Surely you had better.” the distaste on your tone didn’t go unnoticed by the woman who frowned at your words.

Your insecurities began to gnaw in rapidly; what if Sam had other women on days you weren’t available? It made you sick to your stomach.

“What makes you think that? Oh, baby this is the best I’ve ever had.” Sam tugs you by your forearm and while you are teary eyed, she places a gentle kiss at the back of your hand. “I’m sorry if you felt forced to do this. You can take it off now if you want. If I’m being honest, I only thought of wanting to see you strip for me."

The explanation had put your mind at ease. It definitely gave you a sense of comfort that to some extent, you do matter to Sam.

“We could have thought of something else. I.. I’m just not feeling this, Sam, it doesn’t fit me. I’m sorry.”

Sam's heart sank at your words. You weren’t to blame at all. Soon, you felt her fingertips subtly tugging down your skimpy underwear to which you put your hand above hers, halting her movements.

"What – Sam, someone might see us," nervousness washes over your expression, you don't want to get caught in such a vulnerable state.

Sam only looked at you with her dilated eyes. "As if I'd let them see this. Trust me, we just have to be quick, princesa, because I can’t wait much longer.." her fingers smoothly went to hook her fingers under the garter of your underwear and moved to grab the base of the fabric. “Let me apologize to you in this way.” She gave it a pulling tug, your moan vibrating in the small space as it deliciously cupped your pussy lips. “You look so beautiful right now, (y/n/n).”

You barely stifle a moan from erupting out of your mouth and feel yourself drip with wetness.

“My pretty girl is getting turned on with a fucking wedgie? You’re just as turned on as I am, aren’t you?” Sam moistens her lips, “So pretty and all for me. You can’t be loud in here baby, I need you to stay quiet. Don’t want others to hear you moan.”

“Thought- there was no others,” you whimper at Sam who only smirked.

“But the assistants are outside. Can’t have them knowing you’re such a whore for me, hm? Now turn your back to me and look at your pretty reflection.”

Nodding your head profusely, you swallow the lump in your throat. It made Sam chuckle in delight, her eyes gleaming. She pulls up the fabric once again, you’re sure that a wet patch is now evidently staining it. She pokes it with the pad of her two fingers and brushes them back and forth, the friction bringing you pleasure.

She interrupts your reverie by halting her motions, unclasping the bra off you and the intricate straps – one your eyes lingered to – only you didn’t realize that Sam saw the dismay on your face, as though it didn’t fit you. It would be an understatement for Sam to say that she abhors seeing you treat yourself this way.

You observe her hooded eyes now full of desire as she looks up to you – it’s undeniable with how it matches her actions, feeling Sam’s thumb pressed then on your back muscle, letting go to run over her hands all over your torso. It’s soothing although given your position, you feel the want and her touch intoxicating you.

“Sam, please.” you begged, ass pushed to her direction with your posture bent over.

She merely laughs and smacks her hand hard on your ass. The sound echoes in the dressing room. You hissed at how it stings.

Sam had always found your curious look so endearing. You always looked so ready for her to take, attentive, always so curious and beautiful.

She moves her hands agonizingly slow and sensual to your hip bones – brushing her thumb against them – to the skin right under the curve of your ass. You shriek out loud with eyes rolling back to your head, temporarily forgetting that you’re in a public place as Sam notches it up by squeezing you tenderly.

Repeatedly.

“Look at the mirror, (y/n)” Sam sternly orders. You shudder with eyes wide, still not moving. “My little bunny is not dumb, aren’t you, my sweet thing? Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You gulped audibly and a string of moans were pulled out of you as Sam kneaded your supple breasts pleasingly. Being bare while Sam was fully clothed made you uneasy. Looking at the mirror didn’t feel right - seeing yourself become this needy and you meet Sam’s eyes in the reflection. What was her point in doing this? You don’t know either how it intimidates you yet a tinge of excitement is unmistakably laced underneath your impression. While you weren’t new to her roughness, this was particularly still felt exhilarating to you.

Lost in a haze of lust, the ambience changed within the store – it felt as though you were trapped in a heating chamber. It’s charged and so electrifying to be in a compromising position with Sam – while it was a secluded and high-end one that provided privacy, you hoped that no one barged in soon.

Sam left a kiss on your lower back and feeling her hot breath brush on your skin made you shiver run down your spine, snapping you out of your worries.

“I’m going to need you to sit between my legs, (y/n/n). And I’m gonna fuck you with my fingers until you understand in your pretty head that you’re beautiful, hm?” Sam’s words echoed titillatingly on your whole body, your breath hitched and bothered.

Soon as you sat hesitantly onto the couch between her legs, Sam gripped it and opened it wide for you as she saw you squirming and shakily closing your legs. You saw yourself in the reflection - how bare you were. And all you can think about is Sam and how you’re about to soil the velvety seat. She tuts at your shyness and manoeuvres her hand, wrist curling as she glides one finger over your soaked slit, gasping at how you were already so wet – teasing you.

You sharply inhaled, chasing more of Sam’s touch. “Told you that I’m gonna fuck you in front of this mirror, baby. So don’t hide yourself. I’d like to keep you like this, so gorgeous and ready for me.”

Sam did it for you – adjusted her own thighs to accommodate your legs, placed them on top of hers and spread them for you to see how exactly you were dripping. The wetness trickled down the expanse of your inner thighs out of your folds. Sam had a wolfish grin, what you’d describe as predatory and hungry for you. Lolling your head back to Sam’s shoulder, you hear her grunt as she glides her fingers now directly to your folds, eventually entering inside of you.

The sloppy sounds of your wetness echoed in the room. It didn’t help that you felt Sam pressed the base of her palm against your pelvis as her curled fingers rammed madly inside of you. You were pouring out your arousal.

“Oh Sam, oh fuck– fuck, fuck!” heat rose on your belly, coming in waves. Sam responded by pressing kisses on your now sweaty face.

“Mm yeah? More?”

“Yes, yes… Please, Sam!”

You were lost in the haze of lust, driving you dizzy, as your pussy kept pounding with Sam’s rapid thrusts. A slew of guttural moans were out of your mouth – not even minding how loud you are now. You feel how your own core clenched and sucked the entirety of Sam’s fingers, taking a peek in the mirror proved it enough – it was a terrible decision for you.

“Open your eyes, come on now, my good girl. Don’t want you to miss out on how beautiful my sight is.”

Your teeth caught your bottom lip, you comply for Sam’s sake. She called you a good girl, after all. You kept bouncing on her slender and now thoroughly soaked fingers, your slick all over her pants and you saw how it trickled down to damp and darkened the very upholstered chair. Seeing yourself blushing and so fucking used, your pussy squeezed once again over Sam’s fingers and to both of your delight, her thumb pried and did circular motions to your clit.

The pleasure shot you straight in waves over your body and vibrated so deliciously.

You meet Sam’s thrusts and as you bounced, you also saw how intently focused she was on your reflection.

“God, look at these tits,” Sam roughly squeezed the flesh, making them aggressively jiggle. “I fucking love having you like this baby. Aren’t you my good girl?” she hotly whispered to your reddened ear, giving your earlobe a bite.

Her other hand that supported you by the waist, crawled up to grab the very breasts that she verbally appreciated.

“Come on, say it.” Sam gave it another squeeze – plenty that made you mewl – and tugged your perk nipple harshly. “and look at me as you do.”

“Yes, yes, yes! I’m.. I’m your good girl!”

“Mine only,” Sam growled and you felt her teeth sinking in the skin of your neck, biting and nipping. “Oh how I wanted you for so long, like this for me…”

You moan as you turn your head, not minding the awkward angle, not in this needy state of yours you did mind. Neither did Sam, who was visibly appeased with her pearly grin as you do – even more when you shifted your gaze to the mirror and this time, you actually stared at it.

“Such a pretty thing, aren’t you?”

Your hand slithered to Sam’s nape, who was almost as breathless as you. You tried to keep a firm grip on her as you feel more lost in the pleasure.

“Yes, Oh… oh! Sam!”

You nod instantaneously making the woman smile even wider. Soon, Sam’s fingers were sloppy wet and rapidly applying pleasure on her pad and focused on your very clit. You couldn’t do anything but elicit more expressive moans and squelching noises that bounced through the room as Sam fucked you dumb. The coil in your stomach finally untangled, leaving you breathless.

You meekly look at your figure in the reflection once again. Your cum trickled down continuously, leaking out of your pulsating hole. Sam panted lowly in your ear and inserted her hand again, making you grab her inner wrist as you felt the oversensitivity. She hushed you to calm down and she was gently pumping.

It was indeed a pretty sight.

The thick slick of your arousal and cum soon was on your lips, Sam prying it open. It wasn’t up for discussion – you didn’t hesitate either. You taste the bittersweetness coating your tongue and mixed with your saliva, eagerly sucking out of Sam’s fingers. She moaned at your enthusiasm, encouraged by this you sucked more of your remains out of it, your teeth grazing along and Sam pushed it deeper until you felt her slender fingers slightly poking at your throat.

Once she was satisfied, she handled you differently by flipping your position so now you straddled her leg and faced Sam instead of the mirror. Her lips quickly made its way to give you open mouthed kisses to your sternum, to your neck, finally your mouth.

“You did so well, mi amor. And you were so pretty.” You shyly nodded at Sam’s praise. “Remember that, hm? Regardless of dressing like this – lingerie or not – I’ll look and appreciate you the same way.”

“Mm-hmm,” you lazily nodded and met Sam’s gaze.

After Sam helped you dress your clothes. While being fucked the lights out earlier was heavenly, the walking out of the fitting room was not pleasant at all. Your legs feel like jelly, you can barely walk properly without Sam’s tight support on your waist (you refused her offer of carrying you not wanting to be further embarrassed) but it helped that there weren’t any side glances from the assistants.

Oh, heavens. You forgot that Martin was also waiting inside the boutique. Even if he remained mum, you couldn’t be any more humiliated today.

Sam pushed back her slightly tousled hair and you helped her smoothen the back of her clothing. As for her trousers, the damage has been done and it’s currently stained with your wetness. An odd sense of pride came at you because you did that.

Sam held the undergarments – even the one she destroyed and fucked you into and personally offered to place it inside of the provided bag and then handed her black card.

“We’ll take the seat too, the green one in the fitting room. I’ll send someone to pick it up today.” she uttered in what you recognize as her professional voice, the lady simply smiled, replying with Yes, Ms. Loomis, as she agreed with no hesitation.

You hid your face in the crook of Sam’s neck and your cheeks burned. Sam only giggled at your shy reaction. She wrapped an arm around you and brushed your hair gently as she leaned closer to you.

“Come back ‘ere.” Sam lazily mutters, voice still raspy. She was still in bed which was such a miraculous sight. Not only because her godly body was exposed but the fact that she stayed in. Her arms were reaching out to you, caressing your bare lower back and eyes barely open. “It’s so cold, you know.”

You gave her a wistful smile. “And you do know that I’m out of clothes here, right? I also happen to have a place of my own, Sam.”

“You can always–”

“–borrow yours, yeah. I know, Sam. But I have to go. My work stuff isn’t here either.”

She sits up fully. “Okay, baby.” Sam replied dejectedly. You shake your head at how she’s acting like a kicked puppy and barely the same as an insatiable sex god from last night. “How about I drive you home? This is an inarguable offer, by the way.”

Sam gave you a pointed look and you can’t help but think if she’s tricking you – seducing you, almost. She’s unashamed with her nakedness and the way she crossed her arms, further made her biceps prominent, the mysterious scar across them, and her supple breasts gave you a mouthwatering view. You chose to ignore how your stomach fluttered at her use of endearment. The more time you spend with Sam, the more they slip out.

“Don’t talk business to me, Sam. You’re so annoying.” You turn back fully facing her with an impish disbelief, grasping at the sheets to cover yourself.

Sam looked at you with childish glee on her face. “Excuse me, you were the one who brought up work. I’m simply reminding you of what you are absolutely missing while I’m on leave for today, mi princesa.”

“Fine, fine. It's not my fault that I’m a corporate slave.”

“That’s why being with me is a good idea.” Sam insists with a kiss on your jugular notch. “Come on, I was planning to make your favorite dish. Maybe you can do it with me, what do you think?”

“Very professional.” You sigh at Sam’s silliness unfolding in front of you. “You just know all the right words to say…”

She crawled her way to you, shutting you up by capturing your lips with soft ones. It was chaste and you felt her smile in between. Moments like this only tugged at your heartstrings. It deluded you that it was somehow coming home to your girlfriend, only to be shaken to the reality of you knowing it was an unlabeled limbo with an old friend. So you shift, initiating with much force this time, getting rough with how you were kissing Sam as though it was your last time.

“Am I still annoying if I do… this?” You feel Sam’s calloused fingers smoothly trailing on your inner thighs, making you shiver. You throw your head back as you reeled to her touch. The familiar wetness reemerged on your core once again.

Before she could do anything else, her phone rang. Sam immediately went for it and barely a trace of her sweet disposition remained as she excused herself.

You blinked at her reaction, paying not much mind to it. Instead, you let your body relax in the softest mattress you’ve ever laid on and quickly, you’re pulled by the thoughts of Sam again, missing her already as you sprawl onto the bed, smelling the distinct coconut shampoo and addicting lotion that she uses and how it clung to the space you laid in.

Half an hour had passed. Getting up, you look around where she could have been, only to find her out in one out of two living rooms, absorbed with the phone call she's in. It wasn’t your plan to eavesdrop but your heart sank soon as the words became much clearer to your ears.

"Yes, I'm dropping by the strip club tonight... of course."

Strip club… tonight? Her words came out in a hush, obviously Sam didn’t want to be heard or rather, caught. No wonder she has been insistent on you to stay this morning.

You simply weren't Sam's fix for this evening.

With cautious steps, you retreat back to Sam's bedroom and with the disgust that brewed in, bile rising in your throat, you start dressing up.

"I thought we agreed that you're staying?" Sam raised her hands in confusion.

"Work couldn't wait, sorry. It’s bugging me the more I ignore it.”

Sam’s face fell immediately at your sudden change of mind. Your heart twinged a little, almost believing that it was genuine.

"Alright. Let me drive you home, (y/n/n)."

Your smile twitched as you hummed in agreement. Suspicion and confrontation will rise if you didn’t, and given what you just found out, you truly didn’t feel up for it.

"I'm bummed that you won't be cooking with me, just so you know. I'll make it alone - don't worry, it will be filled with love and care, a perfect fix as you get your reports done." Sam enthusiastically clasped her hands to you and it only made harder for you to stop the tears that were threatening to pour.

The way Sam took you in her grasp, arms loosely clung around your neck and the mesmerizing gaze she held was doing the opposite reaction. You felt repelled, uneasiness continued to flow through your mind. You've just heard her in the same beat a few minutes ago planning to go to not only a mere club to drink for fun - but a strip joint? Her intentions became even more confusing to you.

Your resolve was crumbling and it was becoming apparent when Sam leaned in for a hopeful kiss and you dodged it, her puckered lips hit the corner of your mouth instead. If she was baffled and had finally picked up your sour mood, you didn't see it as you continued to avoid her gaze.

The car ride was silent. It didn't even occur to you that Sam actually drove you home, but instead of filling the space with laughter and bickering over your taste in music, the two of you were met with an odd silence. You peer at the window throughout the ride, the silent turmoil grew inside of you at the backseat as the car drove on your way home. Eyes fluttering rapidly, you feel the waterworks coming in. Of course this was only a matter of time before it was confirmed to you that you weren’t only the one being fucked by Sam.

You felt gross. The inkling worry that filled you previously turned out to be right. You just hated yourself for blindly trusting her and giving further meaning to her mistaken gentleness.

Honestly, you did plan that to be your last time to see Sam.

At least temporarily, you wanted to avoid her. You kept making excuses about how you had a lot of work to do. You knew it was unrealistic to actually avoid her forever, not when you literally were tangled with her on her sheets for a couple of months already. Unless you were to flee the country, of course. The idea is slightly tempting. You consider it, albeit impractical, it’s one of your last resort of choices.

You were used to her scent from her bedsheets to her clothes and to her sleepy self arguing that she is very much awake during your random movie nights, her voice – everything revolves around Sam now and you hated it.

It felt like you were a teenager again with a hopeless crush on the girl you’ve liked from afar for years.

Even as you pulled away from Sam, your brain was racking through heaps of what-if thoughts – were you ever enough? Why did she have to make you feel so special, leading you into this domestic bliss? She always made time. Besides the good, you witnessed her downs, the aggressiveness, how her indistinguishable job took a toll on her. All because she let you in. You wondered why she even thought of you as worthy as such, yet made you feel of being less than that, at the same time?

However, if there is a light to all of this domesticity you shared with Sam that gave you warmth, there were also a lot of questionable actions that she specifically kept on doing. She appeared hesitant with dropping you off to your house and insists that one of her drivers will do the honors instead – with the sex on the table, it made you feel disposable and cheap – or how sometimes hours after sex; you get a sleepy glimpse of Sam sneaking onto the balcony. The faint noises of her raised voice in her phone, doing god knows what – you were there, unaware if it was a conversation with another woman and maybe, just maybe, Samantha Loomis wasn't as heartfelt as you naively believed her to be.

As you expected she didn’t drop by at your house. Her little gifts and take outs from restaurants that you liked and visited with her continued to be sent every weekend. You didn’t know whether it was out of pity or a proper goodbye in her own terms, making your stomach churn uncomfortably at the thought.

Your friends weren’t any less worried even with your now constant appearances for hangouts and karaoke nights, they gently explained that your mind often fled elsewhere and your gloomy disposition was noticeable. It’s not that they were annoyed, your friends were concerned more than anything. So, you finally open up but not too much. You retell you were in this Friends with benefits recently and it ruined your sanity, for better or worse, all in vague descriptions. After all, you were sure that now Sam was more likely ashamed of being seen by you and wanted to keep her bachelorette status.

The chorus of oh sweetie in an understanding tone immediately came and when they hugged you, it worsened the longing you felt for Sam and how you have been entangled with her this whole time.

“It sucks how you can get roped into that so suddenly.” Jane, your friend, empathised. “does that count as a situationship – or whatever it is they call it nowadays?”

“Let’s call it friends with benefits for the sake of simplicity.” Margo, the colleague who ironically was one of the main reasons why you got into the gala and met Sam, nodded her head with no hesitation. “I don’t understand why it is that hard to communicate something simple as that. And getting her fix of pleasure in another place, too, Jesus Christ.”

“Feels a bit of a power trip to me. Based on what you’ve said, how she’s got a sexy mysterious vibe going on and while that sounds sexy in other ways, I can only imagine how it must’ve taken a toll on you, (y/n).” Jane adds with a forlorn expression on her face.

They were expressive with their opinions - you liked how your friends were very protective of you. They felt betrayed almost as much as you do soon as you mentioned that Sam was a friend of yours way back.

Although, you hated how there’s a lump in your throat and a part of you was ready to jump in Sam’s defense. Before you drown more in the thoughts of her, you decided to pour another shot.

“Fuck that. Let’s drink to this,” your words come out slurred and your friends only follow suit.

Sam didn’t stop spamming you with messages. It was expected considering that she’s the most insistent person you have met yet. Still, you shrug her off, saying that you work overtime these days and you don’t feel like being a booty call for a while – or ever for her. But Sam’s resolve proved to be unwavering as she updated you about her thoughts and invites of coming back home; her words, not yours.

“You know, if you’re up for it, you should totally meet this girl. Most blunt person I’ve met yet, so.” Margo indiscreetly implies that it shouldn’t be as troublesome as your previous limbo was. “She’s also really hot. And just down for either something casual or serious, depends how you talk about it.”

“Margo, you know I don’t think–” you shake your head. Besides being full of what-ifs and considering that you might have a good time, your thoughts keep bouncing back to a specific Latina in your mind.

Your mind swirls, not knowing why it feels like a betrayal deep down.

“Just give it a chance.” Margo interrupts, firm with her stand. “One date. It’s also been almost two weeks since you’ve been moping. You know we don’t mind that but- I just wanted to tell you that the dating pool is full of choices.

What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

#gg.writes #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter smut #sam loomis #sam carpenter x fem reader #lesbian #wlw #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x female reader #scream vi

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