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toournextadventure · 2 years ago

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movie night pt iii

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

Word Count: 4.8k Warnings: swearing, smut (cunnilingus, fingering), mention of scars, vague gun mention, violence Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (pt.i) (pt.ii) (pt.iii) (pt.iv) (pt.v) (pt.vi) (pt.vii) (pt.viii)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was downright rude and un-American.

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

“Stop rubbing it in,” you said.

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

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

“-Without getting caught?” He said.

Ohhh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What if Sam was right about hating you?

Oh god, Sam was probably right.

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

You got this in the bag.

“Why do you look so focused?”

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

Oh no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time to make a choice.

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

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

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

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

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

“There was no gunfight, was there?”

“Oh absolutely not.”

“I can explain.”

“Lay it on me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not lying- just stop moving.”

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

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

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

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

“Then show me,” she said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you serious?"

"Yes I’m ser-"

"-oh my god."

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well?”

“This feels like a trick question.”

“Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t tease,” she said with a huff.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“-behind you!”

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

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

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

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

“Wait, we need to stop him-”

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

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

“Tara!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” Danny said again.

The air tasted metallic.

“Y/N!”

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

“-you’re bleeding,” Danny said.

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

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

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

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

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

Ghostface had attacked you and Tara in her own apartment.

He was supposed to be dead.

Ghostface had attacked you and Tara.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara x reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega

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