#sam carpenter x reader

[luffyssa]

[halfmoonaria]

unanswered II

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: tara finally comes to her senses.

word count: 6k

author’s note: sorry for the wait guys! might be forgiven tho since i claimed this was 4k words but it ended up with 6k.

i tried to include all your suggestions so i hope you like it

Tara had been blocked.

You had blocked her.

Though, it didn't hit her all at once. The first few minutes, she thought you were just asleep, it had been late when she had texted you after all.

Maybe you needed space after what Tara had said a few nights before, and she couldn't blame you for that.

Yet she still tried texting you, each one more desperate than the last. They were all small messages, apologies wrapped in awkward words that probably didn't mean much for anyone but her.

At first, Tara chalked it up to bad timing, bad service, something.

You had to see her messages eventually, right? So she kept sending them. But there was still no reply. Then, the doubt crept in.

Maybe you were ignoring her.

That thought weighed heavily on her, but she didn't stop.

She was still convinced there had to be an explanation. You always stayed. Even when things were at their worst, when she screwed up time and time again, you stayed.

But something was different this time. She felt it.

Then she noticed the green bubbles. The messages weren't delivering.

Her stomach had dropped. It wasn't bad service. It wasn't bad timing. You had cut her off completely.

Her thumb hovered over your contact, thinking about calling, but she stopped. What was the point? You wouldn't answer.

You were done with her.

She stared at her phone for longer than she should have, as if willing it to change.

But it didn't.

The reality sank in, slow and suffocating. You were gone.

For the first time, she wasn't the one walking away, and the absence of you—your presence, your texts, your warmth—was a hole Tara hadn't even realized she relied on.

It wasn't like she hadn't expected it after everything that had happened.

You always had a way of catching her when she messed up, but things seemed to smooth over eventually.

She never really had to confront her mistakes because you stayed, no matter how many times she got it wrong. Now, though, there was nothing.

Tara wasn't used to this. Sure, she knew she had done something wrong—pushing you away, keeping you in this weird limbo while she figured herself out—but she hadn't thought it would lead to you cutting her off.

Blocking her, even.

That had never happened before. No matter how many times she messed up, you had always been there, willing to pick up the pieces, and things just... worked.

She hadn't even realized how much she relied on your presence until it was gone.

For the first time, she was completely alone. No Amber, no you. Just silence.

———

Tara woke up the next morning with a strange sense of hope. She half expected to see the messages had been delivered, that maybe you'd unblocked her while she was asleep. Maybe it was all just a mistake. You wouldn't really cut her off, not after everything, right?

She grabbed her phone, swiping to the messages she'd sent.

Still green.

Her heart sank, the pit in her stomach deepening as she realized nothing had changed. You were serious. You weren't coming back.

When she got to school, a part of her still thought maybe you'd be there, waiting to talk like you always did, or at least watching from afar. She found herself glancing at the spots where she usually saw you, waiting for that familiar feeling of your eyes on her.

But you weren't there.

But Tara kept walking, her heart heavy as she scanned the hallways. That's when she spotted Amber, standing by her locker, waiting. The familiar feeling of longing tugged at her, but this time it wasn't as comforting as before.

Amber caught her eye and signaled for her to come over, flashing that smile Tara always fell for. Without thinking, Tara did. She walked straight into Amber's arms, letting Amber sling her arm casually around her shoulders as if nothing had changed between them.

For a brief moment, Tara felt like she had what she wanted. Amber was there, holding her close, showing everyone that she was hers—at least for today.

But there was still a heaviness in her chest, something she couldn't shake. It didn't make sense. She was with Amber now, wasn't this enough?

The thought of you crept in, uninvited.

No, it couldn't be that.

She pushed the feeling down, convincing herself that having Amber was enough.

It had to be.

That's what she told herself for the following days, trying to convince herself that Amber was enough, that this was what she wanted.

And for a while, it almost worked. Amber had been good—more attentive, more affectionate than usual—at least during the school week.

The weekends, though, were different. Parties took priority, and Amber's attention drifted.

Yet even when things were good; better than ever if you will, Tara couldn't shake the feeling lodged in her chest, that gut-wrenching discomfort that seemed to cling to her no matter how much she tried to ignore it.

The more she tried to push it down, the more it twisted inside her, leaving her uneasy.

And all of the thoughts led back to you. To Tara's own surprise.

You didn't try to search for her between classes, didn't glance in her direction when you passed her in the hallways. Nothing. Like she didn't even exist.

That was what Tara should've expected, really. After everything she'd done—after the way she'd strung you along, pushed you aside, left you waiting on the sidelines—it made sense. She had no right to expect anything different.

Tara had always been the one to call the shots, to decide when and where things stood between the two of you. Now, for the first time, the power was out of her hands.

She kept telling herself it was temporary. You'd come back—you always did. She just had to wait it out. Maybe this time it would take a little longer, but you'd be there, eventually. You had to be. So she forced herself to get used to it, to the absence, pretending she could handle the emptiness you left behind.

But what really started to get under Tara's skin wasn't just your absence or the way you seemed to move on so easily. It was seeing you with someone else.

She first noticed it during English class. You had been sitting next to some girl—someone Tara vaguely recognized but never really paid attention to before.

At first, she didn't think much of it, but as the days went on, she kept seeing the two of you together. Talking. Laughing. It wasn't just casual conversations either. You looked comfortable. Almost like you were enjoying yourself.

And as the days passed, Tara couldn't help but notice it more.

You hadn't even glanced her way in days, and yet here you were, cozying up to someone else like nothing had happened.

And every time she glanced in your direction during class, there you were, talking to her. Sometimes you'd laugh, or lean in a little closer, your body language relaxed in a way that made Tara's stomach twist.

You weren't just sitting next to each other anymore—you were... comfortable. And it wasn't just in English. She caught sight of you together in the hallways, outside the building after school.

The more she saw the two of you, the more it grated on her nerves. A sharp, simmering anger that built with each passing day.

Every smile, every shared glance between you and this girl made it harder for her to focus on Amber, even when Amber was right beside her, holding her hand or whispering in her ear.

It shouldn't have bothered her like this. It shouldn't have mattered.

You were free to talk to whoever you wanted. For all Tara knew, she was just a classmate, someone you happened to sit next to by chance.

But that didn't stop the ugly feeling from growing inside her, gnawing away at her with every interaction she witnessed.

She told herself it was nothing. That it didn't mean anything. But with every glance, every shared word between you and that girl, her anger simmered, coiling tighter until it was all she could focus on.

It wasn't jealousy, Tara told herself. It couldn't be. She had Amber, after all.

Yet there was no denying the way her chest tightened every time she saw you with her. It wasn't supposed to feel like this. You weren't supposed to matter anymore.

But somehow, you still did. Of course you did.

___

"What's got your panties in a twist?" Amber's voice broke through Tara's thoughts, cutting through the low hum of the campus.

Her tone was sharp, playful in a way that normally would've made Tara grin, but today it grated, pulling her out of the spiral she had been sinking into.

They were sitting outside, perched on one of the weathered wooden benches that lined the quad, the usual bustling energy of lunchtime fading as the crowd thinned.

Chad and Liv had disappeared first, throwing out some half-hearted excuse about "something better to do," Mindy had ditched too—not that Tara blamed her, considering she wasn't exactly Amber's biggest fan. Which left only Amber and Tara behind.

Normally, Tara would've reveled in that—the rare chance to have Amber's full attention, unshared, unchallenged by anyone else. She used to crave these moments when it was just the two of them, when Amber's eyes were only on her.

But now, Tara could barely summon the energy to care. The thrill of it had dulled, smothered under the weight of everything else she couldn't stop thinking about—of everything she couldn't feel.

Your absence hung heavy in the air, even though Amber didn't know it was there. She couldn't know.

She wouldn't have cared if she did.

Amber shifted beside her, more out of impatience than concern. "Seriously, you've been acting weird all week," she pressed, her voice tinged with frustration.

She wasn't used to Tara being so distant, and the idea that something might be slipping out of her control clearly bothered her. "What's your problem?"

Tara blinked, her mind sluggish, trying to catch up. It wasn't like she could explain it—not in any way that made sense.

How could she tell Amber that the cold shoulder she had been getting from you had thrown her completely off balance?

That it was the same cold shoulder she'd given you, over and over again, each time leaving you on the outside while she stayed wrapped up in Amber's world. How could she admit that now, when it was her on the receiving end, it felt like a punch to the gut every single time she saw you?

"I don't know," she mumbled, her voice barely audible. "I'm just tired."

It was the best she could come up with, the easiest excuse, but even as the words left her lips, she knew it wasn't enough.

Amber wasn't the type to let things slide, especially not when it came to Tara. She was used to being the center of attention, the one calling the shots, and when Tara's focus wasn't on her, Amber always took notice.

"Yeah, well, you've been 'tired' for a while now," Amber snapped back, her tone cutting through the brief silence like a whip.

She didn't sound concerned, not really—just annoyed, irritated that something wasn't going her way. "Maybe you should come out with me this weekend, you know? Party with me."

Amber's suggestion hung in the air between them, and Tara hesitated. Normally, Amber didn't bother to ask.

She'd go without her, living up the night on her own, letting Tara watch it all from the sidelines. She'd see it unfold through Amber's and other people's social media—photos and videos of Amber laughing, surrounded by friends, completely absorbed in her own world.

But this time, it felt different. Tara could feel it in the way Amber's eyes lingered on her, waiting, expecting something—expecting Tara to be excited, to jump at the chance like she would've done before.

But the thought of it, the thought of pretending everything was fine, felt suffocating.

She nodded anyway, forcing herself to give Amber the answer she was waiting for, even if it felt hollow. "Yeah. Sure."

But even as the words came out, Tara felt the weight of them, heavy and wrong.

Because the truth was, none of it mattered—not the party, not Amber's fleeting attention. None of it made a dent in the gnawing ache in her chest that had started the moment you stopped looking at her.

She told herself it was fine. She could play along. She had done it before. But deep down, Tara knew that no matter how much she tried to push it down, nothing could fix this disgusting feeling.

She sat in silence for a moment longer, staring at the ground as her mind whirred with thoughts she didn't want to have.

She clenched her jaw, trying to shake the feeling, trying to make herself believe that this—Amber, the party, all of it—would be enough. It definitely would've been before, hadn't it?

But now, the weight of your absence pressed in on her from every angle, heavy and suffocating. It wasn't supposed to feel like this. It wasn't supposed to matter so much.

Amber shifted beside her, sighing loudly. "Whatever, Tara," she muttered, standing up and brushing invisible dust off her jeans. "Don't get all weird on me."

Tara barely registered her leaving. The rush of relief she might have once felt in moments like these—when Amber turned her attention elsewhere—was gone, replaced by an ache she couldn't name.

A week ago, maybe two, Tara would've called after her, almost running to catch up. She would've asked if they could get ready together, spent half an hour agonizing over what she should wear, hoping for Amber's approval.

Her mind would've spun with questions, things she'd never needed to worry about when she was around you.

What should she wear? What did Amber want her to look like? Was her hair okay down, or should she try something new? She would've sent selfies for Amber's opinion, eager for a reaction, any reaction, to reassure her that she was enough.

But now, the questions didn't come. They felt distant, buried under the weight that had settled in her chest and refused to leave. Tara didn't care what Amber thought anymore. She didn't even care what she looked like.

The weekend came sooner than she had expected, almost sneaking up on her while she drifted through the week in a haze.

Throughout the week, Tara had tried to text you. Just one message each day, nothing too desperate, nothing that screamed she was losing her mind over your silence.

But each time, the bubble turned green, and with every little notification, her hope that you might respond twisted into something bitter, something angry.

Were you with her? That girl from your English class, the one she'd seen you walking with down the hallways, laughing, your head bent close to hers like you didn't have a care in the world.

Tara's stomach knotted at the thought, her grip tightening on her phone every time she imagined the two of you together. Were you sharing the jokes you used to save just for her? Did you laugh the same way?

By the time Friday came around, the anger had wrapped itself around her chest, growing heavier each time she looked at her phone, still green, still silent.

It weighed on her as she stood in front of the mirror that night, staring at her reflection like a stranger. She had thrown on whatever was closest, not caring how it looked—not caring how she looked—and now, standing there, she could feel the frustration boiling over.

She looked terrible, and she knew it. The clothes didn't sit right, her hair was a mess, and she didn't even have the energy to fix any of it.

Normally, she'd have texted Amber for advice, asked her what to wear, how to do her makeup. They might've gotten ready together if Amber cared enough, Amber teasing her the whole time but never letting her leave the house unless she looked perfect.

But tonight, none of that mattered. Tara was angry—angry at herself, at you, at the girl you were probably with right now. She felt like she was spinning, her thoughts spiraling into a million catastrophic possibilities, each one worse than the last.

Maybe she just needed to see you in person. Maybe if she could find you, look you in the eye, and tell you how she was feeling right now, you'd understand. Maybe that's what would finally break through this silence.

If she could just get you to listen, maybe if she could tell you all of it—how she didn't know what she was doing, how none of it made sense to her—you'd understand.

But would you even believe her? Would you even want to hear her out?

Without thinking twice, she pulled out her phone and typed out a message to Amber.

can't make it tonight. smth came up.

She didn't even wait for a response before throwing her phone onto the bed, her mind already somewhere else.

Part of her wanted to look you up, track you down, and talk to you face-to-face. Whether you were with someone else or just avoiding her the way she'd been avoiding you —but either way, Tara was done waiting around for you to reach out.

She stood frozen for a moment, feeling ridiculous as the thought of showing up at your house unannounced settled in.

She could already picture how stupid she'd look, standing at your door, trying to explain herself. You'd blocked her—didn't that already say everything she needed to know?

But then that other girl's face flashed in her mind, the way you laughed with her, walked next to her in the halls.

The thought of her taking you away, of her being the one you shared everything with now, twisted Tara's stomach in knots. She couldn't let that happen. Not without at least trying.

She didn't want to be too late.

Tara hated how desperate she felt, how even after everything, after you'd blocked her, she was still running after you. But she couldn't help it.

Even if she had to look you in the eye and hear you say you didn't want her anymore, she needed to know for sure. She needed to fight, because the thought of losing you to someone else was worse than any rejection you could throw at her.

With a deep breath and her hands shaking, she grabbed her jacket and keys.

Feeling stupid the whole way, she headed out the door, her heart pounding with every step she took toward your house.

___

didn't think u were weak enough to back out.

guess i was wrong.

Amber's text lit up her screen, but Tara barely glanced at it.

Normally, Amber's words usually stung, leaving Tara questioning herself, doubting everything. But tonight, they barely registered. She didn't care anymore, not about Amber's opinion or her insults.

The thought of how she'd been stringing you along—pushing and pulling, hot and cold—made her stomach twist in a way Amber's games never had.

Tara had always hated how Amber toyed with her, how she'd be there one day and gone the next, keeping Tara on a leash just long enough to never fully let go. Now, she realized, she was doing the same to you. She'd been selfish, scared, and now it was coming back to haunt her.

Amber had dragged her through the same emotional mess for so long—back and forth, never knowing where they stood—and now she had done the same to you.

It wasn't about Amber anymore. It was about you. And she wasn't going to let you slip away without at least trying.

She made it to your house almost sooner than she'd liked. The sight of your front door tightened the knot in her stomach, something she wasn't used to feeling.

Tara wasn't the nervous type—usually, she could handle herself in any situation, always sure of what she'd say or do. But now, her palms felt damp, her breath catching every time she thought of you opening that door.

She didn't know what she was going to say. Hell, she didn't even know if you'd open the door. But she had to try, even if her nerves were making her feel like a complete idiot for being there.

But she was already here, and she'd come this far—she couldn't just turn back now. She'd fought her way through every doubt to get here, and backing down wasn't an option.

Her feet felt heavy as she took each step up the walkway, the familiar creak of the wooden steps underfoot echoing louder in her ears than it ever had before.

The closer she got, the more every little detail stood out—the chipped paint on your door, the soft glow of light seeping out from the window.

She raised her hand to knock, fingers hovering just inches away, her heart pounding so loudly she wondered if you'd hear it from the other side.

Taking a deep breath, she let her knuckles tap lightly against the door, the sound swallowed almost instantly by the still night air.

It took long enough for you to answer that her thoughts had time to spiral. She knew your parents weren't home; in the little time she'd spent actually getting to know you, she'd learned that they hardly ever were.

You were probably home alone, and the idea haunted her—maybe you'd invited someone else over, maybe you weren't even alone at all, maybe you were with that girl she'd seen you with before.

By the time she heard footsteps approaching, her heart was beating so fast she almost felt sick, every possibility fighting for space in her mind.

Finally, the door swung open, and for a split second, there was a soft smile on your face.

But the moment your eyes landed on her, it vanished, replaced by something unreadable.

It wasn't anger—your expression was calm, almost neutral, yet there was a guardedness to it, like you'd been caught off guard, not entirely prepared to see her standing there.

The warmth in your eyes had dimmed, leaving something harder to read.

Tara couldn't tell if that look meant you were relieved or if she was the last person you wanted to see right now.

For a second, Tara felt so small. She knew she was short, but this was different—she'd never felt this out of place, like she was shrinking right there on your doorstep. Not since Amber.

Her fingers fidgeted, tracing over her knuckles as she tried to read you, to figure out what was going on behind that guarded expression. She barely registered the sound of her name until she heard your voice.

"Tara.. Hi."

The words hung there, making the quiet between you even heavier.

Tara didn't respond right away, too caught up in the questions swirling through her mind.

Had she interrupted something? Were you expecting someone else—someone who actually wanted to be here?

Her mind raced, flashing back to all the times you'd tried reaching out, inviting her over, and all the times she'd ignored you, too wrapped up in the momentary thrill of Amber's attention.

She hadn't let herself think about what that might've felt like for you.

And now, standing here, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was karma—that maybe you'd moved on, found someone else who didn't make you feel like a backup option. What if, after all this, she was too late?

Finally, after a moment, she managed to speak, her voice barely above a whisper, unsteady.

"Were... were you expecting somebody else?" Her words faltered, her gaze fixed on her hands as she twisted her fingers together, almost as if she could hold onto some kind of confidence.

You furrowed your brows just slightly, a small, almost confused smile pulling at the corner of your mouth as you let out a soft, breathy laugh. "No... why would I?"

Tara's mouth opened, but no words came out right away. She hadn't expected you to look so genuinely surprised, and now she felt her cheeks warming, her gaze darting down as she scrambled for something to say. Her fingers twisted together, and she forced herself to meet your eyes again, feeling silly for even bringing it up.

"I... I don't know. I just thought... maybe." Her voice was barely a whisper, and she hated how uncertain it sounded, as if she'd already given away too much. But she couldn't help it—she just had to know.

You tilted your head slightly, still wearing that soft smile, though there was a hint of something knowing in your eyes.

"Is she.. ignoring you again?" you asked, the question so casual yet so pointed that Tara's breath hitched.

She knew you meant Amber—you didn't even need to say her name. And the worst part was, she felt a pang of guilt because, honestly, it wouldn't have been the first time.

She swallowed hard, feeling like her own answer was betraying her. "Actually... no," she said slowly, her voice faltering as she tried to piece together her words. "She, uh, actually invited me to a party."

Your expression shifted, that lightness fading from your eyes, and Tara's stomach twisted painfully when she noticed.

She hadn't expected you to react like that, hadn't anticipated that flicker of hurt crossing your face. And now, standing there in the doorway, she felt a rush of regret wash over her.

Before she could stop herself, she added, her voice barely above a whisper, "But I didn't... I didn't go."

You didn't respond right away, just looked at her, eyebrows raised, silently waiting. Tara shifted under your gaze, feeling smaller by the second, until finally, she started to speak.

"I know you probably... don't want to talk to me right now," she began, her voice a little too fast, like she was rushing to get the words out before she lost her nerve.

She took a shaky breath and continued, "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. I mean, it's not like I've given you a reason to, you know, feel any different... or... yeah."

Her hand drifted up to her wrist, squeezing it as she fumbled for her next thought. "I... I messed up. And, I've been thinking about it, like, a lot, and it's just—I didn't know what I was doing. I mean, I thought I did, but then I... I didn't. And I didn't mean to make you feel like you weren't... important, or that I didn't care, because I did. I do."

She bit her lip, glancing up at you, unsure if she was making any sense, but she kept going. "I know it's probably too late to say any of this, and you've probably moved on, but I just... I don't know. I didn't want you to think that I... forgot about you. Or... or that you didn't matter."

Her gaze flickering down to the ground, then up to yours again, almost as if she's scared you'll walk away.

"That message where I told you to... that I didn't want anything to do with you..." She shakes her head, struggling for the right words. "I shouldn't have said that. I was... I don't even know what I was thinking. I just... Amber was there, and I felt like if I didn't, she'd—" She stops herself, clenching her fists a little, swallowing hard.

"And all those other messages.. I just kept trying to say sorry, but it was probably just... desperate, I guess. I didn't know how else to say that I... I wanted you, that I didn't mean it. That I still..."

Her words falter, and she sighs, rubbing her forehead as though exhausted with herself. "I know it probably doesn't make up for any of it, but... I swear, I didn't mean it. I never wanted to hurt you."

As soon as she stopped talking, a wave of embarrassment crashed over her, and it was all she could do not to cringe.

She hadn't even planned on saying half of what she'd said, and yet here she was, fumbling through one strained apology after another.

It felt messy, like she was just piling words on top of words, hoping that somehow they'd turn into something that made sense to you, that could somehow make things better.

But in her heart, she knew it sounded like nonsense, just a lot of desperate, pointless excuses that probably made her look even more pathetic.

And you just stood there, looking at her with an expression she couldn't quite read—somewhere between shocked and neutral.

The silence between you seemed to stretch on, making her rambling feel even more pointless, like each second of quiet only added weight to her mess of words.

Tara could feel her face heating up, and all she wanted was to take everything back, to make it sound right somehow—but she didn't even know what "right" would be.

Her fingers tightened around her wrist, her gaze dropping back to her worn out converses as the silence thickened around her. Part of her wanted to shrink back, to stop talking altogether, but she'd already put too much out there to turn back now.

So when you didn't answer, she continued.

"I... I want to do better," she said, each word a little slower, like she was searching for the strength to actually mean it. Her eyes barely lifted to meet yours, as if waiting for something—anything—that might tell her it wasn't too late.

Your hand, which had been holding the door open this whole time, finally slipped away. You clapped both hands against the sides of your thighs, the sound breaking the quiet between you two.

Then, with a tone that was almost unreadable, you asked, "Is that it?"

Tara's face fell slightly when your words cut through the silence. She searched your expression, looking for something—anything—that hinted at forgiveness, but the steady way you looked back at her made her stomach drop.

Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to speak, her voice barely above a whisper.

"So... you don't forgive me?"

Tara looked up at you, her eyes wide and glistening, almost like a puppy's, searching for any hint of understanding. It was a look she hadn't meant to put on, but somehow it found its way back to her face, a reflex from childhood.

She remembered using those same eyes when she'd gotten into trouble with her mom or when Sam wouldn't let her hang out with her friends. Back then, she'd wielded them like a weapon, a last-ditch effort to melt hearts and earn forgiveness.

Now, though, it felt different.

There was no intent behind it, just a genuine plea for empathy that made her feel exposed, and a wave of embarrassment washed over her as she realized how desperate she must look.

You took a breath before responding, your gaze steady but distant. "I do.. but I don't see why that matters because it'll all happen again." You said slowly, weighing each word.

Tara felt her heart sink at your words, the reality of what you said hitting her hard. She knew all too well how it felt to be caught in that cycle—Amber had done the same to her, repeatedly promising change only to slip back into old patterns.

It was frustrating and disheartening, and in that moment, she understood where you were coming from.

She took a shaky breath, trying to find her voice. "It won't... I promise it won't." Her tone was earnest, filled with a desperate need to be believed, to convince you that this time would be different.

Tara searched your expression, and as your words echoed in her mind—you did accept her apology—a flicker of hope ignited within her. It felt like a delicate promise written in cursive, intricate yet fragile, and she couldn't help but cling to it.

She tried to muster a soft smile, though it felt tentative, as if it might shatter under the weight of everything left unsaid.

"Can we... do you think that maybe we can try again?" The words tumbled out, filled with a mixture of uncertainty and determination. It was a fragile request, a chance she hoped wouldn't be met with rejection.

She could see the flicker of thoughts crossing your face. Your brow furrowed slightly, and she sensed the hesitation lingering in the air between you. It was as if you were weighing her words, measuring the sincerity of her apology against the weight of the past.

She couldn't tell if you were considering her request or if doubt still lingered in your mind.

It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for a sign, desperately hoping that you would choose to leap with her this time.

After a long pause, a small, soft smile crept up on your face, the tension in your shoulders easing just a bit. You finally met her gaze, and the warmth in your eyes hinted at something Tara had been longing to see.

"Sure... yeah, I'd like that," you said, your voice gentle but firm, like a lifeline tossed her way.

Tara let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, her shoulders eased slightly at your response, something softening in her expression as she processed your words. It wasn't a promise, but it felt real enough.

A quiet acknowledgment that maybe this could lead somewhere different.

She looked at you for a moment longer, managing a small, uncertain smile as if not entirely sure this chance would hold but willing to take it anyway.

The silence lingered, weighty but almost comfortable. Tara held your gaze, her expression softening just a bit as she let herself settle into the quiet, not wanting to push any further. When she finally managed a small smile, it was tentative, as if she was holding onto it carefully.

"Guess I'll... see you around?" she asked, her voice a quiet murmur, like she wasn't entirely certain if she should even say it.

You gave a slight nod, already moving to close the door. The subtle acknowledgment was enough to let her feel that maybe, just maybe, things could shift—if only a little.

She shifted slightly, like she wanted to say something more but couldn't quite find the words. A small, unsure smile crossed her face as she looked up at you again, her voice softer.

With that, Tara turned to go, casting one last look back at you before turning around to walk away.

___

The next week, Tara's phone buzzed on her nightstand, pulling her from a the books scattered all over her bed.

She squinted at the screen, hoping to see your name lighting up, a sign that things were finally moving forward between you two.

Maybe it was about the plans you'd casually mentioned — plans that did not include Tara bringing out her frustrations in bed with you.

Instead, her heart sank a little as Amber's name flashed across the screen.

u free this friday?

For the first time, Tara felt a surprising clarity wash over her as she read the message. She didn't hesitate, knowing exactly how she wanted to respond without second-guessing herself.

In the past, she'd tiptoed around her replies, always afraid that Amber would judge her for whatever she said.

But now, after everything with you, she was certain of what she wanted. This time, there was no uncertainty clouding her thoughts. So, after a moment, she typed a quick reply.

im actually busy, sorry

With a breath of relief, she hit send and immediately blocked Amber's number. She felt a weight lift off her shoulders.

This time, she wouldn't be waiting for Amber's text, for promises that never changed anything.

She knew what she had now—this newfound sense of clarity—and what she wanted. And that was enough.

This was how it would stay.

[denwritesandcries]

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.”

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Next Part | Masterlist

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“C’mon, pick it up, pick it up, pick it up!”

Coach Mason’s voice makes me grit my teeth and push harder, skating as fast as I can even though my legs are numb and my lungs are burning.

He’s had us doing suicides for the last five minutes and if I wasn’t as out of breath as I am right now, I’d curse him out so bad.

“One more!” I stop right before hitting the wall, spraying it with ice before pivoting and sprinting back. “Aaannnd DONE!”

I fall to my hands and knees and cough. That was the worst. The others are panting as well and from the looks of it one of my teammates, Percy, is about to throw up.

“Good job, guys. We’re done for today. Go shower and enjoy the rest of your day.” Coach Mason pats my best friends Liam and Paige on their backs before stepping out of the rink.

I groan and get back up after a moment, and skate over to Liam and Paige. They’re wheezing and trying to catch their breath as well, but when they see my face they burst out laughing.

“Look who’s back P, it’s Tomato,” Liam says, taking off his helmet to reveal his sweat slicked hair.

“Fuck you.” I gasp and take off my helmet as well before sticking up my middle finger. I know my face gets red every time I exercise. “You’re just jealous you’re not as fast as I am.”

“Ha! Never. You’re not even that much faster.” Liam pokes me with his stick and turns to Paige who’s giggling at our antics. “C’mon back me up here.”

Paige raises her arms and shrugs. “Nah. I’m not getting involved.”

I laugh at Liam’s offended frown and smack him with one of my gloves before skating to the rink’s exit where our other teammates are already taking off their skates.

“So, are we still on for dinner tonight or what?” Paige asks when she gets off the ice after me. “And if so, are we ordering in, or cooking?”

“I say we cook something. It’s been a while since we cooked together,” Liam says, taking a seat on a bench to take off his skates.

Paige looks at me for confirmation and I shrug. “Sure. I’m fine with whatever.”

“Perfect. It’s settled then, but our fridge is empty, Lee, so we’ll have to go grocery shopping. Care to join us, Y/N? We can head straight to the store, buy what we need and then spend the rest of the afternoon watching movies before cooking together,” she suggests.

I check my watch for the time and frown apologetically. “I’d love to, but I can’t. I have to pick Tara up from school and I promised her I’d help her with a history project, so rain check on the movie marathon?”

Paige smiles and says, “Of course.”

Liam nods and stands back up. “Yeah, no problem. Just text us when you’re coming over.”

I take off my skates and check the time again.

Shit, I have to hurry. If I don’t I’m going to be late and Tara will think I forgot about her.

“Will do. Thanks guys! I’ve gotta run. I’ll see ya later!”

Liam and Paige give me a thumbs up and I smile gratefully before rushing to the locker rooms.

“Hey!” Tara jumps into my car as soon as I come to a stop in front of Woodsboro High School. I’ve managed to make it just in time. She throws her bag on the backseat and immediately accepts the aux cable when I hand it to her so she can play some music.

“Hiya, how was school?” I ask, waving at Chad, Mindy, Wes and Amber. They smile when they see me and I smile back before starting our drive to Tara’s house.

“It was fine, but we got a shit ton of homework.“ She pulls out her inhaler after putting on a song and takes a drag of it. “How was practice?” She glances over and smiles when she sees my face is still a little red. “Did Coach Mason make you do sui’s again?”

I glare at her playfully and stop the car at a red light. “Do you even have to ask?”

Tara laughs and takes another drag of her inhaler. “No, not really, but I like annoying you.” She smirks and drops the inhaler into the cup holder.

I grumble, not even half as annoyed as I’m pretending to be. “Mhmm. I can tell, you little shit. You know, if you didn’t have asthma I’d make you walk the rest of the way home.“

“No, you wouldn’t,” she quips confidently and turns up the volume of the music.

I raise an eyebrow but sigh a moment later, whispering, “Yeah, no. I wouldn’t.”

The rest of the drive is uneventful and before long I’m pulling into the Carpenter’s driveway.

“Is your mom home?” I ask when I get out of the car. My eyes momentarily dart to the house on the other side of the street.

My house. . . I square my shoulders and look away. No, it’s no longer my house. I sold it because it stopped being mine the moment my parents died in the accident.

Tara grabs her bag from the backseat and shakes her head, snapping me out of my thoughts. “No. She’s in London.”

I frown. “For how long?”

“Don’t know,-“ she turns to unlock the front door-“don’t care. It’s not like it’s the first time she’s left for an extended period of time.”

“Right. . .” I clench my jaw and step inside the house after her.

Christina Carpenter has been a shit parent ever since Tara’s dad left. I don’t dare to dwell on it though because if I did that woman would get an earful of how bad of a mother she actually is. It would be the truth, yes, but I know it would upset Tara which is why I stay quiet and take my frustrations out in the rink.

“So, what’s this project you need help with?” I ask, following Tara into the kitchen.

My gaze lands on the pictures on the walls, but I’m quick to look away and ignore the hurt that constricts my heart.

They’re nothing but memories now. Painful memories of what once was and reminders of what could have been. I’m in several of those pictures, alongside Tara and her family, but the face staring back at me, my face, is one I no longer recognize.

“I have to write a paper on the Cold War, but I don’t know how to start,” she says, pulling two bottles of water out of the fridge.

I cringe and take one of the bottles when she offers it to me. “Phew. Okay, I was never really good in history, but I’ll try to help as best as I can.”

Tara smiles and takes a sip of her water. “Thank you. Should we get started?”

“Sure. After you, ma’am.” I bow playfully and gesture for her to lead the way upstairs to her room.

“Idiot.” She smacks my arm as she brushes past me which makes me laugh.

We go to her room and plop down on her bed, getting started on the paper.

After skimming the instructions, I realize it’s not as difficult as I thought it would be. We work together, going through textbooks and using the internet to gather all the information we need before Tara gets to work on actually writing the paper.

I keep her company and proofread everything she shows me until, finally, after two and a half grueling hours, she’s done.

She saves the Word document on her laptop before shutting it and falling back on the bed with a dramatic sigh.

“Urgh. Finally. That was the worst,” she complains.

I chuckle and toss a pillow at her. “It wasn’t that bad.”

She sits up again and hurls the pillow back at me. I catch it with ease and stuff it behind my back to make myself more comfortable.

“Maybe for you it wasn’t. All you did was help me research. I did all the writing,” she argues, dragging her hands down her face.

“Yeah you did because it’s your assignment. I just said I’d help, not that I’d write the damn thing for you.” I nudge her playfully which makes her roll her eyes.

“Whatever,” she whispers before pulling out her phone. “Hey, it’s already pretty late. Do you want to stay for dinner? Amber’s probably going to come over as well.”

I check my own phone to see that Paige texted me that she and Liam managed to get everything to cook Spaghetti Bolognese together.

I sit up and shake my head with an apologetic smile. “I’d love to but I already made plans with Liam and Paige.”

Tara doesn’t seem fazed by my rejection and just smiles. “Alright. So, you’re leaving now?”

I get up and nod. “Yeah. Is that okay? Or do you want me to stay until Amber gets here?”

“No, no. You can go, I’ll be fine,” she says, getting off the bed as well.

“Okay then.” I pull her into a hug and press a kiss to the top of her head. “Call me if you need anything.”

She breaks our hug and shoves me gently with an embarrassed smile. “Yeah, yeah. Just go, I’ll be fine.”

“Fine. I’m leaving.” I go to the door and open it. “Love ya!”

Tara snorts, but says, “I love you too, idiot,” before I make my way down the stairs and out of the house. I lock the front door with my spare key and get in my car, texting Liam and Paige that I’m heading to theirs now.

There’s quite a bit of traffic, so it takes longer than expected to drive all the way across town and to make matters even worse, right before I get to Liam’s and Paige’s, I catch sight of Tara’s inhaler in my cup holder.

Shit. She needs that. She mentioned two days ago that she lost her backup inhaler.

I make a U-turn and call Liam.

“Yello?” he says after picking up.

“It’s me, Lee. I have to turn back around because Tara forgot her inhaler in my car.”

“Oh, no worries. Take your time. Paige and I are going to start cooking though, is that okay? I’m starving.”

He groans and I laugh. “Of course. I won’t be long.”

“Yeah okay. See you in a bit. And tell Tara I said hi.” I can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“Ew, gross dude,” I say, adding, “She’s like five years younger than us.”

This time it’s Liam’s turn to laugh. “Relax. I’m just joking.”

I huff and make a right turn. “You better be.”

“I am, I swear,” he defends. Silence. Then. . . “For real though, tell her I said hi.”

I roll my eyes and hang up. I know he’s only joking, but it gets on my nerves sometimes. I continue driving, listening to the radio until fifteen minutes later, I’m once again pulling into the Carpenter’s driveway.

I grab the inhaler and get out, frowning at the absence of Amber’s car for a moment.

Shouldn’t she be here by now?

I shake my head and make my way around the front of my car.

Maybe she decided not to come over after all.

I skip up the stairs to the front door, only to freeze a second later when a muffled scream pierces through the silence.

“Tara. . .” I drop the inhaler and rush to the door, unlocking it as fast as I can before bursting inside.

Another blood curdling scream echoes through the house and I dash toward the kitchen where it came from.

There’s blood on the floor and a handprint on a nearby door and when I round the corner I see a cloaked figure standing over Tara.

She’s on the ground, sobbing and coughing. Her pink shirt is covered in blood and one of her legs is twisted in a weird way, obviously broken.

Looming over her is a cloaked figure and when she turns around to crawl away, he raises a blood covered knife and stabs her in her lower back.

“Tara!” I jump into action and tackle him to the ground.

He grunts, surprised by my arrival and manages to twist around underneath me. The sight of his infamous Ghostface mask me freeze for just a split second, but that seems to be all the time he needs to get his arm free and swing the knife at me.

I’m quick to react, leaning back just in time to avoid getting my throat slit. When he swings at me again though, I’m not as lucky and with a grunt he manages to stab me in the shoulder right next to my neck.

I scream and topple off him, raising my hand to my shoulder when he pulls the knife back out. My heartbeat is loud in my ears, and I think this is it, this is how I’m going to die, but then I hear the sound of police sirens.

No, this can’t be it. I’m not dying unless I know Tara is safe.

Ghostface grabs the front of my hoodie and lifts his arm to land the killing blow before making his escape, but he never gets the chance to bring the knife down on me because I kick against his knee, making him stumble.

That’s it. That was his chance. If he doesn’t get out now he’s going to get caught, I think, and I’m right.

Ghostface limps out as the sirens get louder. I know he’s not going to return, so I turn my back on the doorway and shuffle to Tara’s side.

“Y/N,” she sobs, clutching at her side. My eyes widen at all the blood and when I see she got stabbed through the hand I feel sick.

“I’m here, Tara. I’m here,” I croak. I pull off my sweatshirt even though I can barely move my shoulder, and press it against her stomach to slow the bleeding.

She hiccups and whimpers, and I slip my free hand underneath her to also apply pressure to the stab wound on her lower back.

“You’re going to be fine,” I whisper. Warm blood soaks the shirt around my own stab wound, making it stick to my back and chest, but I don’t stop applying pressure to Tara’s wounds.

She’s all that matters. She has to survive.

After what feels like hours, the front door flies open and police officers swarm into the house.

“You’re going to be just fine. I promise.”

The constant beeping of Tara’s heart rate monitor keeps me from falling asleep even though I stayed up the entire night. She’s been out of surgery for about half an hour now and the doctors said it’s going to be a while until she wakes up.

She looks so pale and small, it makes my heart hurt, so I carefully take her hand in mine and move my chair even closer to her bed.

It’s a little bit of a struggle because my right arm is in a sling since my shoulder was stitched up, but in the end I manage to get the chair to where I want it to be.

I let out a defeated sigh and lower my head. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice breaking as tears prick my eyes. “I should have stayed. I shouldn’t have left.”

No one knows what would have happened if I had stayed. Maybe the attack wouldn’t have happened at all. Maybe Tara would be fine now, or maybe we could have ended up exactly where we are right now. The truth is, no one knows, but at least she wouldn’t have been alone and that is the part that gnaws at me the most because I broke my promise to her.

After Sam left, she was heartbroken. She was alone and lost, so I promised her that I’d never leave her.

She’s always been like a little sister to me because Sam and I were best friends and we used to look after her together, but after that promise, we became inseparable.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper again, shutting my eyes and ignoring the tears that drop down my cheeks. I squeeze her hand in mine and rest my forehead against the edge of the bed.

It’s an uncomfortable position, but I’m too tired to move. I stay like that for a couple of minutes, listening to the heart rate monitor until the door slowly creeps open.

I shoot up in my chair and hiss at the stinging pain in my shoulder.

“Sorry.” Paige’s soft voice makes me relax again and when I turn around I see her standing in the doorway with an apologetic smile on her face.

Liam is right behind her and, for once, he has a serious look on his face.

“Hey.” I sink back in the chair and send them a tight lipped smile.

“How are you feeling?” Paige asks, entering the room. Liam follows her and closes the door.

I don’t even have the energy to scoff at that, so I just whisper, “Like shit.”

Usually Liam would make a joke about it, teasing me by saying I also look like shit instead of just feeling like it, but given the severity of the situation, he doesn’t. He simply places the bouquet of flowers they brought onto the bedside table and joins Paige at my side.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, squeezing my uninjured shoulder.

“Thanks.” My voice is gruff, but I couldn’t care less about that right now. I keep my eyes on Tara, watching her chest rise and fall steadily.

“We were so worried about you,” Liam says.

I hum in acknowledgment, but don’t say anything. I called them using the hospital’s phone last night after the doctor’s took care of my shoulder, and filled them in on what happened.

They were so worried, they wanted to come to the hospital immediately, but I told them to stay at home and come back in the morning which it apparently already is now. I also called Amber and Wes, telling them to stay at home and go to school until Tara wakes up.

“Is she going to be okay?” Paige asks, bringing me back to reality.

I nod and tear my eyes away from Tara to look at her. “Yeah. The doctors said she’s going to be fine, but she almost didn’t make it. . .S-she could have died, Paige.”

A sob claws its way out of my mouth and almost instantly Paige and Liam pull me into a hug.

“Yes, it was a close one, but she’s going to be okay,” Liam says. “I’m sure if it wasn’t for you, she’d not be here right now.”

His words shatter something in me and suddenly, my entire composure crumbles. I begin sobbing uncontrollably and break down, clinging onto both of them as best as I can without letting go of Tara’s hand.

A groan makes my eyes snap up from my lap. Liam and Paige left a while ago after making sure I had something to eat (a disgusting protein bar from the hospital’s vending machine) and something to drink (an entire bottle of Gatorade).

They were reluctant at first when I told them to go to class, but gave in eventually when I convinced them their note taking (and then sharing said notes with me) would be more beneficial than their being here.

Now, my eyes widen at the sight of Tara waking up.

“Y/N?” she whispers, opening her eyes slowly.

I get to my feet and grab a cup of water from the bedside table. “Yeah, I’m here.”

I take a seat on the edge of the bed and smile softly when her dazed eyes land on me. I offer her the cup and help her drink from it when she takes it.

“How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?” I ask, taking the cup back when she’s done.

“N-No,” she says quietly. She moves her uninjured hand to her stomach where she was stabbed. “But. . . I’m scared.”

I nod and put the cup on my chair, not wanting to get up to put it back on the bedside table. “Me too.”

Tara’s eyes clear up a little and when she properly takes me in for the first time, she shudders and brushes her fingers over the sling my arm is in. “Your shoulder. . . You’re hurt.”

I grab her hand and squeeze it gently. “I know, but we’ll both be fine.”

Tears well up in her eyes and her chin starts quivering. “You came back. H-He was going to kill me, but you came back. Why did you come back?”

I nod and don’t bother swallowing the growing lump in my throat. “Because you forgot your inhaler in the car and then I heard you scream and—“ I gulp and decided mid sentence not to finish that though. “I’m not leaving your side again until that fucker is either behind bars, or dead, okay?”

A tear streams down Tara’s cheek and I let go of her hand to pull her into a gentle hug. “Okay,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

“Here you go. One Red Bull and a Snickers,” I say, handing Deputy Vinson the snacks he asked for when I offered to get something from the vending machine.

Wes, Mindy, Chad and Amber got here a couple of minutes ago and I decided to step out of the room for a moment to give them a chance to catch up with Tara alone.

“Thanks.“ Deputy Vinson opens the Red Bull and takes a big sip. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t mention it.” He took Tara’s and my statement earlier and was then stationed outside of her room by Sheriff Hicks.

We share a little smile and I walk past him to go back into the room, only to feel my heart drop when I hear a familiar voice as soon as I open the door.

No, it can’t be. . .

I step into the room and swallow harshly when my eyes land on her.

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[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |6|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Talks of Killing and Death

Word Count: 4k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Almost as soon as Sam stepped outside, she was bombarded with reporters. She was thankful that she didn’t see Tara around, that meant Kirby got her out of there without getting hounded by the media. Sam tried ignoring the cameras and microphones being shoved in her face as she pushed through the crowd. Everyone was screaming questions at her, asking if Ghostface was back, if she was a suspect, who this new Ghostface was, if the killings were connected to her, if this was all because of her father.

Sam kept her head down, focusing on the concrete and not on the dozens of people crowding her. She was about to crack when she felt a strong-arm wrap around her, the grip tightened as they pushed through the crowd. She turned to see you, staring straight ahead, your arm that wasn’t around her was stretched out, keeping the reporters at bay. Sam couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath when the two of you finally broke free of the crowd and she could see the road and a taxi already sitting there.

She nearly sprinted to the taxi and opened the door without bothering to look back at the reporters, she learned quickly it was best to ignore them. “Gale Weathers,” Sam heard a voice say. She didn’t bother holding in her groan as she gripped the door to the cab tighter. “Channel Four.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Sam asked, whipping around and glaring at Gale.

Gale just laughed at her making Sam frown and only glare at her harder. “Do you think Ghostface is going to go after others since he failed to get you?” Gale held the mic out to Sam.

Sam scoffed, shaking her head, Gale sure had a lot of nerve. Gale knew better than anyone that Ghostface didn’t go attacking random people, not unless they were in the way, every victim was intentional. “No comment,” Sam said harshly.

“What about you, hero,” Gale redirected her attention to you. “Do you think saving Samantha Carpenter’s life has made you a target now?”

You just stared at Gale, it didn’t look like you had been phased at all by her questioning or by anything that was going on at the moment. “She said no comment,” you said. You stared Gale down then flicked a glare at her camera man before turning back to Sam.

Sam didn’t realize she was still staring at you in awe until you pushed the car door open a little more and gave her a nod. Sam looked down, trying to cover the blush she was sure was on her face before quickly jumping in the cab. You were right behind her, slamming the door shut and giving one final glare to Gale and the rest of the reporters.

You gave the taxi driver your address and then the two of you sat in silence. There were a million things going through Sam’s head, she had so many things she wanted to say to you, and she didn’t know where to start. She needed to apologize, she needed to thank you, she needed to explain herself, then on top of all that, she had all these questions that she had no right to ask. You had seemed completely comfortable with jumping into fight Ghostface, you didn’t hesitate in any of your movements, and every time you slashed the knife it was with the intent to kill, even after getting stabbed you still swiped the knife at Ghostface. On top of all that, you didn’t seem too affected by being stabbed, you had other scarring all over your body, and Kirby had called you sergeant. Sam wasn’t sure if you were in the military or law enforcement or what, but it was clear you had training.

“Sorry about the cab,” you said, breaking the silence and Sam’s thoughts about what to say to you. “My Jeep is still at my house.”

“It’s-It’s fine,” Sam brushed it off, looking at you. “And if anything, you shouldn’t be apologizing, when I should be thanking you.” You turned your head, finally meeting Sam’s eyes for the first time since leaving the station. “So, thank you.”

You gave a little shrug. “It was nothing, really.”

“But it was, odds are you’re now a target all because you saved me.” Sam ignored the glance from the cab driver in his rearview mirror.

“And I would do it again.” There was no hesitation in your voice. Sam couldn’t decide if this really was nothing for you, if you truly weren’t concerned about any of it, or if you didn’t know anything. “I don’t run from danger.”

“So, you just run to it?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

You silently chuckled and Sam couldn’t help but give a little smile, she had never seen you smile, let alone laugh, even if it was a small one. “It’s kind of my job.”

“Which is? Kirby called you sergeant.”

You nodded. “Army, special forces.”

Sam let out a whistle. “Well, seems Ghostface is the one who doesn’t know what they’re getting into.”

“That’s for sure,” you smirked.

Sam’s head whipped back up to you. “Do you know something?” she watched you closely, there was still no visible reaction.

Kirby might not have trusted you, but she had enough doubts about you being Ghostface that she didn’t try and hold you longer at the police station and she didn’t put up much of a fight when Sam said she’d go with you to your house. It didn’t stop the thoughts of if Bailey was right from piercing her mind. She wanted to trust you, you were strong and clearly had skills, you saved her life, plus she liked you, but all of that could mean you were Ghostface. Every thought in her mind suddenly stopped, she was being paranoid, if you were Ghostface that meant you set up the whole gym attack, which just seemed crazy. Though crazy and seemingly illogical plans seemed to be Ghostface’s thing, maybe she made a mistake getting into the cab with you and inviting you back to the apartment where the others would be, where her sister would be.

“Having regrets about tagging along?” you asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. Yes, she was, it was like you were reading her mind. She wasn’t sure if that should put her at ease or make her more on edge.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” she blurted out. She tried not to pay any mind to the cab driver whose eyebrows rose, and how his eyes kept going from staring at the road in front of them to the rearview mirror.

You glanced at her out of the side of your eye, though you didn’t seem offended by the question. “You’re not supposed to ask that.” Sam frowned; it was a rather rude thing to ask. If you were special forces, it was a fair assumption that you probably had, but normal people didn’t tend to like to talk about that type of stuff. She opened her mouth to apologize when you continued, “But yes.” Sam could see the way the cab driver’s eyes widened slightly, and his eyes instantly dropped from the rearview mirror to stare straight ahead again.

Usually learning someone has killed before would make a person more nervous but it oddly eased Sam’s worries. The fact that you didn’t try and lie or didn’t brush her off, that you answered and didn’t elaborate or try and defend anything was what eased Sam’s worries about you. If you were Ghostface or the mastermind behind these knew attacks she figured you’d try and justify your actions, saying it was part of the job, they were the enemy, or something, anything to get Sam to understand and let her guard down, but you didn’t do any of that.

“You never answered my first question,” Sam said. She couldn’t let her guard down yet, you knew something, and until she knew what that was you were a potential threat. “Do you know something?”

“We’re here,” is all you said.

Sam rolled her eyes; you were being incredibly difficult with your short responses. She didn’t understand how she could have a conversation with you and learn more about you in a cab ride than she had in the last few months at the gym, but you still somehow came off as even more mysterious. You were somehow a lot simpler and easier to understand when you were just the cute stranger from her gym who liked to box.

You paid the cab driver and opened the door, stepping aside so Sam could slide out and close it behind her. Sam looked around; it definitely wasn’t the nicest neighborhood, but it certainly didn’t seem like the worst. Sam followed you through the metal gate in front of a single level white house. It was tucked between two other houses, leaving hardly any room on the side of the house but you had a front yard with a small patch of grass that was fenced in.

You didn’t have much else though, the grass wasn’t dead, so it was clearly taken care of, but you didn’t have any plants or a garden of any kind. The only thing in the driveway was your Jeep, which she wouldn’t know for sure until she saw the inside of your house, but it seemed like the nicest thing you owned, it had large wheels clearly meant for off roading, if the dried mud splattered on the side was anything to go by and it was a four door, giving you ample room for stuff or people, but Sam had a feeling it was used more for stuff. Even your porch was bare, not even a chair to sit on. If Sam were just walking past the house the only thing that would indicate there was someone possibly living there was the fact that the grass wasn’t overgrown.

She followed you up the concrete steps and waited as you put the key in the door. Your house wasn’t run down by any means, it was taken care of, there was no paint peeling or siding falling off, it just seemed empty. You pushed open the door, giving it a good shove when it got stuck. Sam moved to follow you but froze when she heard a deep growl.

Her head snapped up and past you and deeper in the room was a snarling German shepherd. Sam clenched her fists that were shoved in her pockets, she didn’t dare move, the dog continued to growl and bare its teeth, making sure they were on full display.

“No,” you commanded. You held up your hand in a stop motion and the dog instantly snapped its mouth shut and sat down as if it hadn’t just been ready to attack.

You walked over to the dog and gave it a good pat, scratching behind its ears. It looked up at you and Sam could see the tail wagging, but the dog continued to sit. Sam also stayed where she was, she had no desire to step into your home and be mauled by your dog. As much as Sam wanted to back out and just stay outside, she was afraid to move, she was pretty sure she always heard you weren’t supposed to run from a dog because then they’d chase you.

You glanced back at Sam, and she could swear there was a slight smirk on your lips. “You can come in,” you said. Sam started to move her hands out of her pockets but when the dog’s head snapped to her, she froze again. You fully turned around but still kept a hand on the dog, never stopping running your finger through her coat and behind her ears. “She won’t hurt you.”

“I’m inclined to disagree,” Sam said, looking at the dog warily. She had never been afraid of dogs before, but she wasn’t stupid, if that dog charged at her it definitely wouldn’t be pretty.

You chuckled and crouched down to rub your hands up and down the dog’s neck and under her chin. She was a mostly black German shepherd with bits of brown on her legs, neck, and belly. “She’s harmless.” Sam raised an eyebrow, giving you a disbelieving look, there was no way you could convince her that dog was harmless. “Unless you attack me. So, just,” you nodded your head back and forth as you stood back up. “Don’t do that.”

Sam nodded unsurely but crossed the threshold, stepping into your home fully. She closed the door behind her without turning around, just because you said the dog was friendly didn’t mean she was taking her eyes off it. Sam opted to stay near the door, not wanting to do anything to trigger the dog. The dog also stayed put, it was just Sam and the dog, staying in place and staring each other down, though at least she wasn’t growling at Sam anymore.

You moved away from the dog and into the kitchen which was just past the living room. Sam heard you shuffling around and when you turned around, she saw you scooping some dog food into a bowl. After you set the food bowl down on the floor you came back up with another one, dumping the old water out before giving it a quick rinse and filling it with fresh water.

“How long should this whole thing take?” you asked. Sam finally took her eyes away from the dog to look up at you. “I just need to know if I need my buddy to take her,” you glanced at your dog. “Or he just needs to stop by and let her out.”

Sam shoved her hands in her pockets again and gave a little shrug. “Usually, these psycho’s only make this go over the course of a few days,” she answered. “But you might not want her to be here,” she nodded at the dog, who just tilted her head curiously at Sam. “Ghostface might come here looking for you.”

You chuckled as you put the fresh bowl of water down. “Then I feel sorry for him. Artemis there,” you pointed to the dog. “Is a military dog. She was trained for combat, to take down bad guys with guns, and people shooting all around her.”

“Artemis?” Sam couldn’t help but smile at the name. She looked down when she saw the dog’s ear twitch at hearing her name.

You shrugged as if it was an obvious choice. “Goddess of the hunt.”

“I didn’t think dogs usually came home with soldiers. Aren’t there rules for that?”

“Normally, but she isn’t active duty.” You walked back to the living room and leaned against the doorframe as you looked at your dog with nothing but love. “Got injured and had to retire.” Sam frowned at that, even though she’d never admit that she was slightly scared of the dog she couldn’t imagine what kind of injury she had to suffer to be retired. “That doesn’t mean she can’t still take someone down.”

Sam let out a hum. Based on the greeting she got she wasn’t surprised by that statement. “Let me change and we can go,” you said. Sam nodded and watched as you turned around, walking through the kitchen and into the bedroom in the back.

She bounced on her feet as she waited for you to return. She glanced around your place, the walls were bare, there was a couch, a coffee table, a TV, and a video game console plugged in. It really didn’t seem like someone actually lived in the house, she figured she should count herself lucky that it seemed like you had an actual bed and not just a mattress on the floor. Sam jumped back when she felt a wet nose brush against her. She looked down to see Artemis had moved and was now standing directly in front of her, sniffing her.

“Hello,” Sam said awkwardly. She slowly removed her hand from her pocket and hesitantly held it out for the dog to sniff. Artemis gave her hand a few sniffs before beginning to lick it. Sam couldn’t help but smile, when she wasn’t growling and showing her teeth Artemis was rather adorable.

“You still never answered my question,” Sam called out. “What do you know about Ghostface?” she knelt down to get on eye level with Artemis to pet her better.

You popped your head through the doorway of your bedroom just as you finished pulling your fresh shirt down. “I don’t know anything about Ghostface,” you said.

“Are you kidding me?” Sam looked up. There was no way you didn’t know who Ghostface was, it was too famous of a story, there were so many books and movies about the attacks. “You expect me to believe you don’t know the story?”

“Of course, I know the story,” you continued shuffling around your room. “I’ve never seen any of the movies, I’ve only seen a couple articles or whenever there’s a new attack, of course I’ve heard people talk about it.”

Sam sucked in a breath and nodded. She could believe that. Horror wasn’t really her thing, that was always Tara, she probably never would have seen the movies or known as much as she does if she hadn’t grown up in Woodsboro, and of course if Billy Loomis wasn’t her father. “So, do you know who I am?”

You crouched down at the nightstand beside your bed before looking back at Sam. “I’ve heard whispers,” you admitted. “But I wasn’t in the country last year so no offense, but I had other priorities when whatever was happening to you and your friends.”

“You didn’t look me up just from the rumors? Someone like you,” you raised an eyebrow as if daring her to finish that sentence. “You don’t want to know who’s coming into your gym?”

You let out a sigh and rested a hand on the edge of the nightstand. “Everyone is entitled to their privacy. I also know how the media can be spun; I prefer to form my own opinions.” Sam nodded, she never thought about what you might have seen or done and how the military and media might have spun things for the general public or covered things up.

You looked back to your nightstand, opening the drawer before doing something that looked like pressing buttons, though Sam couldn’t see inside the drawer from where she was. A second later you flipped open the door to whatever was in the drawer and reached down to grab something. When your hand came back it was holding a gun. Sam sucked in a breath but didn’t say anything or move from where she was still petting your dog. You glanced at her as you checked the gun before putting the magazine in and sticking the gun in a holster at your back. You fixed your shirt and if Sam hadn’t literally just seen you put the gun where you did, she wouldn’t have been able to tell you had one on you.

 Sam didn’t know you. You were a complete and total stranger to her; it didn’t matter if you had saved her life. There was no reason for Sam to trust you, to not say anything about the gun and still allow you to come back to the apartment with her. But she didn’t, she kept her mouth shut, she couldn’t explain it but a part of her felt like she could trust you, she wanted to trust you. She also knew all too well how handy a gun could be in these situations and if Ghostface didn’t know you had one then it would only be a plus.

“You asked what I know,” you said as you came back through the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe to the living room again. “I know whoever I fought in that gym is untrained. They had absolutely no experience handling a knife, if it wasn’t for the other one catching me off guard they didn’t stand a chance.”

Sam pulled herself back to her feet, smiling as she watched Artemis walk back over to you. “Most of them don’t have training,” Sam said, nodding along. “In every previous attack they’ve always been seemingly normal people, high school or college kids.”

“They were disorganized. The only reason the one caught up to you was because you tripped. The gym seemed like unknown territory to them.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be there,” Sam ran a hand through her hair. “It was an impulsive decision.”

“Meaning they’re watching you.”

Sam’s eyes snapped wide open. “I shouldn’t be surprised,” she crossed her arms over her chest. “After all, my last relationship was all a lie to try and set me up.” You raised an eyebrow at that. “Long story.”

“Well, it’s hard to make a plan of action without all the information.” You crossed the room until you were standing only a few feet from Sam, Artemis falling alongside you. “If I’m going with you then I need to know what I’m getting into.”

Sam’s grip tightened around her jacket, but she nodded, it was only fair. It wouldn’t be right to literally drag you into her mess and basically expect you to help protect the others and not tell you why any of this was happening. “It will be easier when we get to my apartment, with the others.”

You nodded and grabbed your sweatshirt before leading Sam out the door. “Also,” she said, turning back to face you. “Expect a lot of questions from my sister and her friends, we’re not exactly a trusting bunch.”

You only lightly chuckled at that. “Great, another interrogation,” you said but there was a small smile on your lips. You scratched the top of Artemis’s head and behind her ears before telling her to go eat. Sam could hear the sound of claws clacking against the wood floor as you closed the door. “Are we allowed to take my Jeep?” you asked.

Sam opened her mouth, about to deny it, but ended up nodding. She had already ridden in a cab alone with you and came to your house, also alone, getting in your car hardly seemed like that big of a deal. She also couldn’t argue that not having to pay for a cab back to the apartment would be nice, she didn’t think you were too far from her place but with everything going on she didn’t need the cab fee on top of it all.

Sam slipped into the passenger seat and looked at you as you pulled out onto the street. “Why are you doing this?” she asked. You were a stranger and were literally getting involved in something you had nothing to do with. Anyone else would have told Sam to piss off and would have gone back to their life, never to think about her again.

You eased on the break as you came to the stop sign at the end of your street. “Because you need help,” you said like it was simple. “I can’t just walk away when I know someone is actively trying to hurt you.”

“But I’m no one, I’m hardly worth all this.” You turned out onto the main road.

“I told you, it’s not in my nature to just turn my back on someone who needs help. And it’s clear the authorities can’t be relied on.” Sam scrunched her brow at that. “I don’t know about agent Reed, but I don’t trust Bailey.” You spared her a quick glance. Sam had never questioned Bailey until this new Ghostface, specifically his clear distrust of you. “I might not know you very well, but no one deserves all this,” you gestured with one hand. “You don’t deserve to be hunted down by some psycho.”

“Thank you,” Sam whispered. She really didn’t know what else to say. She knew she was the one to ask you to join them, but you didn’t owe them anything. You were going above and beyond for some random girl at your gym. Sam couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on her face as she looked at you, your eyes glued to the road. Maybe you were one of the good ones after all, maybe Sam wasn’t completely cursed to only attract darkness.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess

[the-thing-withfeathers]

exceeded caution series masterlist

summary: when your relationship with tara fails, you find yourself in a predicament. why can’t you stop thinking about sam?

—

chapter 1: she would have chosen the devil

chapter 2: first time for everything

chapter 3: promise to keep

chapter 4: our thing

chapter 5: how dare you?

chapter 6: i get it now

chapter 7: upcoming...

drabbles:

carpenter v carpenter

[jackiesnats]

Our Own Summer

pairing: sam carpenter x reader; past quinn bailey x reader

warnings: camp counselor au, mean dom sam, daddy kink, rough sex, rough face fucking, rimming, finger sucking, face slapping, reader is a bit of a little shit, tara & reader friendship, strapon use, begging, verbal degradation, sam's been waiting to do this for awhile-, jealous!sam, she’s a bit toxic but she takes accountability.

summary: sam always found you annoying, but now that you were working as a counselor at the same camp as Sam, she finds you to be even worse.

edited by my lovely girlfriend @specialinterestshows 🥰🩵

word count: 10.3k

“Welcome! I’m Sam, and I’m the head counselor here at Camp Crystal Lake. We’re going to have a few days before the campers get here, so that will give you some time to learn the layout and ask for help with whatever you need. Does anyone have any questions for me right now?” Sam asked, looking around at the new and some returning counselors. You smirked as her eyes locked on yours, holding eye contact with you for a few seconds before shaking her head.

You could tell she was annoyed by your presence, having been at her house enough times to know how she acted when she was trying to pretend you weren’t getting on her nerves. Now that you were working at the camp she was in charge of for the whole summer, you were only going to make things worse.

“Dude, stop eye-fucking my sister,” Tara whispered as Sam started to answer your new coworkers’ questions.

“What? I- I wasn’t eye-fucking nobody, but especially not your sister,” you said, biting your lip as you realized that wasn’t believable.

Tara rolled her eyes, “Yeah sure.”

“Honest!” you try to argue, but Tara wasn’t having it.

You both knew you had a crush on her older sister since the moment you and Tara became friends. There were many sleepovers the two of you had had while Sam watched you, while her family was gone. Tara and you had been friends since the seventh grade and now that the two of you were adults, you wished Sam felt the same way towards you.

Since you didn’t think she would ever feel that way, annoying the fuck out of her was good enough. Sam didn’t own the camp, so she couldn’t fire you - in your mind that meant you were able to push her buttons more than usual. Of course, you never did it in front of Tara, considering she knew about your crush on her older sister for the longest time.

“(Your Name),” Sam called out, causing you to jump, “Come here.”

You did as you were told, getting closer to her as the counselors moved to get their stuff. You had zoned out, thinking about Sam so much that you didn’t realize she was handing things out to everyone.

As soon as you walked up to her, she smirked. “Good girl. Here’s your supplies for your campers when they get here. You’ll be in cabin two.”

You looked down at the ground, eyes widening as you noticed the black boots Sam was wearing. Between being called a good girl and seeing her boots, all you could think about was grinding against them while she praised you.

Shaking the thoughts of your head, you sighed, crossing your arms, “Samantha.”

Sam glared at you, “Stop calling me that.”

Bringing your hand up to your chin, you tapped it with one finger playfully, “Mm, no.”

You grabbed your stuff and walked away before she could say anything. Without looking at Sam, you knew she was still focused on you.

“Are you done doing that for today? It’s bad enough we’re going to be here all summer,” Tara complained as she sat her stuff down to get a drink of water from her bottle. “Instead of annoying her and poking the bear, why don’t you just make a move?”

You gave Tara a surprised look, “Make a move? What, so she can laugh at me and say no? I’d rather keep annoying her.”

Tara shook her head, “How do you know she would laugh at you?”

“She just would,” you sighed, “Would you like some help carrying your stuff to your cabin?”

“I’ve got it,” Tara said, picking her stuff back up. “Plus, Sam put me in cabin thirteen which makes no sense. What cabin are you in? I didn’t hear her when she said it.”

“Cabin two.”

Tara nodded, “You do realize Sam is in cabin one, yeah?”

“I figured, what about it?” you asked, unsure as to why Tara would bring it up. It didn’t matter to you if Sam was in cabin one or cabin twelve, you were going to annoy her just as much.

“You do realize that cabin one and cabin two are connected?” Tara informed you.

“Oh? I- well, I mean that’s fine, I’m confused as to why you’re pointing it out, to be honest.”

Tara sighed. “I just… I know you like to annoy her and we’re best friends, but she’s my sister.”

You gave her an odd look, unsure of what she was getting at. Yeah, you annoyed Sam a lot, but you genuinely did like her. “What are you trying to say?”

Tara got a bit closer to you. “I just don’t want to see her, or you, hurt.”

“Tara,” you started, “Me hurting her? I would never.”

Tara’s facial expression was unreadable when she spoke up again, “Then try not to annoy her more than what you already do. I don’t think you would intentionally hurt her, but after Richie… she puts up a big front.”

“Do you know something I don’t?” you questioned.

Tara tried her best to hide the smirk that was threatening to show, and if it was anyone else, she would be able to get away with it. Not you though, you knew the moment you asked her that she was fighting the urge to smirk.

“Got to go get set up, talk to you later,” Tara said, chuckling as she walked away.

You stood there for a few more minutes, trying to decipher what Tara was trying to get at, but you soon let it go - for now - as you headed towards cabin number two. You decided you were going to take a nap once you had your clothes and such all put away. You had a few days before your busy summer started and getting familiar with the camp could wait. Sleep could not, especially when all you could think about Sam – as well as what Tara was saying. Did Sam feel the same? Or did she know that Sam did not feel the same? You loved Tara like the sister you never had, but sometimes you wished she wasn’t so secretive when it came to important things.

“Hey, (Your Name), wait up!” a voice called out to you, causing you to stop in your tracks. You turned around, a smile spread across your face as both Chad and Mindy rushed towards you. You dropped your bags as soon as they got close enough to hug you. Chad went first, hugging you tightly and then as soon as he let go of you, Mindy gave you an even tighter hug.

“How have you been, babe?” Mindy asked as she let go of you.

“Pretty good, I’ve just been busy working and writing the book I started a bit ago,” you smiled. “How about you?”

“You still at that one place?” Chad asked.

“I’ve been good, movie theater has been doing good, I was surprised that they let me have the whole month off to do this,” Mindy said.

“I’m glad! And yeah, I’m still at that one job,” you groaned, “But honestly, I might quit when I go back home.”

“I don’t blame you, really,” Mindy said. “Well, if there’s a killer out in the woods with us and you die, then you wouldn’t have to quit!”

Both you and Chad glared at her.

“You know Sam wouldn’t let anything happen to (Your Name), the killer would be dead so fast,” Chad laughed.

Mindy hit his arm hard, glaring at him while you looked at both with confusion written all over your face. You now wondered if everyone knew something that you had no clue about. Tara was one thing – she’s Sam’s sister after all – but the twins? You were missing something and as much as you had your suspicions on what it was, you didn’t want to guess and end up wrong; you wouldn’t be able to look Sam or any of your friends in the eyes after that.

“Ow! What did you do that for?!” he whimpered, rubbing his arm.

“Ignore what he’s saying, he knows nothing,” Mindy rolled her eyes.

You sighed, wanting this conversation to end. You loved them, but all you really needed was to lay down and try and forget about the day. Looking at your watch and then back at the twins, you spoke up again, “Hey, I’ll talk to you guys in a bit, I have a bit of a headache and I’m going to be laying down for a few hours.”

Mindy and Chad said their goodbyes before they turned around. You had assumed they had already gone to the cabins they were staying in, since they didn’t have any of their stuff with them when they came up to you.

As soon as you got to the cabin, you dropped your bag on the floor before sitting on the nearest bottom bunk. You felt bad for lying to Chad and Mindy, but you were so overstimulated from everything going on so far. You got up once more to grab your pillow from your bag before laying down.

You awoke when a door was slammed shut. “What?! What's going on?” you shouted, sitting up quickly.

“You do realize there’s a room in between the cabins for the counselors to sleep and live in right?” Sam asked.

Her arms were crossed and you could tell she was annoyed. Unfortunately this time you weren’t even trying to annoy her, so it wasn’t fun for you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

You cursed yourself for getting so shy when you were overstimulated. You looked down at the ground, refusing to even look at her.

“Oh,” Sam sighed. “You weren’t doing this to annoy me, were you?”

You shook your head, eyes still glued to the floor. The room was filled with an uncomfortable silence, but before you could say anything, Sam came up to you. Placing a hand on your shoulder, she rubbed it gently before sitting next to you.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you about it. Let me help you carry your bags to the room I was talking about, okay?” Sam spoke softly.

You nodded. “Okay.”

You stood up at the same time Sam did. You grabbed your backpack and your pillow while Sam grabbed your duffle bag.

“How did you carry this all the way here? You should have asked me for some help,” Sam sighed, grabbing the bag.

You followed her into the counselor’s room, setting your stuff down and she spoke up and pointed to the bed that was empty. “This is your bed, and over there is where you can put your clothes.”

“Thank you, S- Sam,” you said, finally making eye contact with her, “I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem, really. We’re going to be here the entire summer, so I’d rather help you out now so I’m not worried about you the rest of the summer,” Sam explained herself, which made your heart drop.

A part of you wanted her to worry about you - attention from her was something you’d always craved. Now was no different from back then, other than the fact that you were an adult now.

“You have a point,” you sighed. “Is Quinn working here this summer?”

Sam gave you a dirty look. “Why? I mean, yes, but why?”

“Because I haven’t seen her in a while? We’re friends?” you said, unsure as to why she was asking that.

Quinn and you had dated for a short time, and although things didn’t work out well between the two of you, you were still really good friends. You figured she was just worried that you’d run back to Quinn after spending countless nights at Tara and her house after she had left you randomly. You were over the redhead, finally realizing that your crush on Sam was still present once you got over your first real heartbreak.

“Mhm,” Sam hummed, seeming to accept your response. “Anyway, I’m going to make sure everyone is settled in and that they don’t need my help. You can take a nap because I can tell you’re tired, and I won’t come in here as loud as I just did.”

“Thank you so much.”

Sam walked out with her clipboard and sunglasses and as soon as you knew she was gone, you put your things away in the drawers. Grabbing your stuffed animal, you put it at the head of your bed before you laid down.

You couldn’t help but think about how good Sam looked in her tank top. With her muscles on display, all you could think about was her pinning you down on the bed and fucking you over and over while you begged her to keep going.

You sat up and grabbed your MP3 player from your backpack before putting your headphones in. Once you were all situated, you laid back down with music blaring in your ears. You took a deep breath, slipping your hand into your shorts. You closed your eyes, moaning when you felt how wet you were through your underwear.

You ran your fingertips lightly against yourself, enjoying how good it felt. “Fuck, Sam, please don’t tease me,” you whimpered, unaware that Sam had already ducked back in to get her water bottle. She wasn’t trying to look, especially since you weren’t aware that she was there - that is, until she heard you moan out her name.

Finally, after a few minutes of teasing yourself through your underwear, you pushed your hand into them. Rubbing your clit lightly, you imagined Sam touching you whenever she wanted to.

“Please, Sam,” you moaned, “I’m yours.”

You sped up your movements, finally bringing a finger down to your entrance. You took a deep breath, trying to spread your legs, but your shorts weren’t allowing you to. Pulling your hand out of your pants, you quickly pulled them down, followed by your underwear. Kicking them off just as Mascara by Deftones started to play.

You spread your legs, bringing your hand back down to your pussy. You kept your eyes closed as you slid a finger inside yourself. You would normally work yourself up a bit more, but you were already so wet, all you wanted was to make yourself come a few times before Sam got back. The last thing you wanted was for her to see you like this, moaning her name when you weren’t even sure if she liked you. The last thing you needed was to make things awkward for the both of you the whole summer.

You added a second finger, curling them as you began to fuck yourself. “Faster, please, Daddy. Please, wan’ to come for you,” you cried out. You opened your eyes as you heard someone come up the stairs, pulling your hand out and pulling your pants and underwear up as quickly as you could.

Sam opened cabin one’s door and you used that time to make it look like you weren’t doing anything. When she opened the door to the counselor’s room, you opened the book you had brought, wanting her to not question what you had been doing while she was away. You turned your MP3 player off and set it on the nightstand.

“We’re going to be having dinner around seven-thirty, so you’ve got a few hours of free time to explore,” Sam informed you, smiling softly.

“I mean, if we have a few days before the campers even show up, I can explore tomorrow,” you sighed. “I’m so exhausted.”

Sam smirked, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I bet.”

You gave her a confused look, but deep down your heart had just dropped. “Wh- What’s that supposed to mean, Samantha?”

You knew she hated it when you called her that, so you did, trying to get her to think that everything was okay. Sam’s smirk turned into a frown as she stood there – her eyes burning into you. You turned your head, realizing she was still staring at you and it made you nervous.

“Are you going to be a brat this whole summer, (Your Name)?” Sam asked, getting closer to you.

“What? I’m not being a brat?” You weren’t sure where this was coming from – for years when you annoyed Sam and pushed her buttons, she would just ignore you or make a petty comment back to you. But here she was, snapping at you.

“Stand up,” was all Sam said, but she gave you no room to not listen. She grabbed you by the arm, forcing you to stand up. “We’re going to get something straight here. You will behave this summer or you will not get anything from me, do you understand me?”

You nodded, getting the feeling as if Sam didn’t want you to talk at the moment.

“That means if I ask you to do something or anything, you will not call me Samantha, you will not talk back and for the record, between the two of us – you will not touch that pretty little pussy without my permission again. Got it?” Sam snapped.

You nodded in understanding, but that wasn’t good enough for Sam. Grabbing you by the throat, she squeezed lightly, before saying, “You can speak now, puppy.”

“Y-Yes, Sam, I got it,” you swallowed, licking your lips.

“Now, for years you’ve been annoying me with little things, poking the bear and then backing away, and for years I’ve been allowing you to do so. At first, I thought maybe you didn’t like me, but that wasn’t true because Tara would have dropped you the moment you said something to her… Then I got to thinking that maybe it was a crush you had and I had to make myself not believe that, because why would you have a crush on me? A few people told me you had feelings for me, but I couldn’t get myself to believe it… until today when you thought I wasn’t here, and you were masturbating. Granted, I had come back for my water bottle, and I was going to leave to give you some space and the privacy you needed,” Sam paused, getting closer to your face. You felt your cheeks heat up, hating how shy she was making you feel. “But then you started to moan my name, and I knew that this wasn’t just a one-sided thing, because if I didn’t have feelings for someone, I sure as hell wouldn’t be moaning their name. Am I wrong?”

“N- No, you’re not wrong,” you whispered, not wanting to keep her waiting for an answer from you.

“Good girl. See? It’s so much better when you behave, don’t you agree?” Sam asked.

“Yes, Sam,” you licked your lips.

“Now that we've discussed that part, tell me what you were thinking about when you were touching yourself,” Sam said, letting go of your neck to sit on her bed. She looked at you, waiting for your answer. “Well? Don’t keep me waiting. Tell me. Now.”

“You using me however you want while we’re here. Also obviously after the summer. I wanna be yours,” you admitted, keeping your eyes down onto the ground.

“Eyes on me, you look away and you’ll be going to bed with nothing but a sore ass and frustration,” Sam threatened, smirking as you shot your head up instantly without any hesitation.

“Good girl! Such a good girl,” Sam praised.

On instinct, you squeezed your legs shut, the ache between them was growing stronger. You weren’t sure how much of it you could take. Sam was actually into you, and although you were completely clueless, the more you thought about it, the more you knew you should have seen it. Between all the times Tara would smirk at Sam when she’d refuse to give you eye contact. Or how Sam would put up with you for the longest time when she could have easily told Tara to cut you off. Their relationship was extremely close, and you knew for a fact Tara would end your friendship if Sam didn’t like you.

“Aw, do you like being praised, baby?” Sam hummed, mocking you a bit to see how you’d reacted.

You bit your lip, trying to contain the moan that was fighting to come out. Her tone of voice and facial expression was not helping the ache between your legs and you needed her now.

“Please,” you whimpered, watching as Sam grabbed her backpack that had been on the floor. “I don’t think I can take any more. M’need you now, Daddy.”

Sam stopped her movements, taking a deep breath and you knew the effect you had on her. You tried your best to contain the smirk that was forming - not wanting to risk not getting anything from Sam. One thing you always knew about her: she always kept her word.

“You need me now, yeah?” Sam teased, bringing her hands to her belt buckle. “How do you need me?”

“Want you inside of me, want you to fuck me as hard as you can for all the times I’ve annoyed you. Please, Daddy. I can’t wait anymore, I’ll do anything,” you begged, hoping Sam would give in and give you what you needed.

Sam sighed, standing up from her seat to show you that her belt was unbuckled. She sat down next to you and you turned to face her.

“Yeah? You’ll do anything?” Sam questioned.

You nodded, watching Sam’s hand come up to you. “Suck” was all Sam said, bringing two fingers up to your mouth. You wrapped your lips around the digits, closing your eyes as you focused on getting them wet.

“Mm,” Sam hummed. “I bet you’d be so good at sucking cock huh?”

You smiled with her fingers still in your mouth, flinching a little as Sam wrapped her free hand around your throat. You continued to suck on her fingers, running your tongue through them.

“God I want you on my cock so bad,” Sam sighed, squeezing your throat lightly. “I brought one with me just in case, didn’t know you’d be this easy, but I kind of love that about you. You’re a whore, just a set of holes waiting to be filled by anyone.”

You shook your head as best as you could, trying to say “no,” but with her fingers in your mouth it was too hard to do so.

Sam pulled them out of your mouth before asking, “What was that?”

You took a deep breath, “N-Not anyone, just you. Want you to be the only one to fill my holes. Please, please just… please fuck me. I want you.”

“Aw, but I thought you needed me, baby?” Sam teased, smiling as you whined.

“I do need you!” you cried out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

“But you’re so pretty when you’re all desperate for me, I think I’m going to keep you like this for a while. Now stand up and get your shoes on, we’re going to explore the camp so you know it by heart before the campers get here.” Sam stood up, a smile on her face as she made her way to the bathroom to wash her hands.

You sat there, trying your best to catch your breath and calm down before you could get up. You were stunned - unsure as to why Sam wanted to keep you waiting, but you knew you couldn’t argue with her.

You stood up slowly, grabbing your shoes as you tried not to think about Sam’s fingers inside of you. They felt good in your mouth and you knew they were going to feel so good when they were in your pussy. But for now, you kept quiet, slipping on your shoes while Sam grabbed her clipboard and water bottle.

“I’m ready,” you said, grabbing your own water bottle. The last thing you needed was to be dehydrated, especially in this heat.

“Good girl,” Sam praised, causing you to bite your lip. You wish she had just fucked you - until she would, you were going to try and be on your best behavior. “If you’re good for the rest of the day, after dinner I’ll fuck you.”

“You promise?” you asked, eyes wide as the two of you made your way through the cabin.

“I promise,” Sam said, “And I will keep my promise, as long as you keep yours to be a good girl and behave.”

When the two of you left the cabin, you ran into Quinn for the first time in a full year. She stopped the two of you, smiling at Sam before pulling you into a hug.

“Hey, (Your Name), how’s it going? I haven’t seen you in a bit, you look so good!” Quinn said, finally letting you go. You were too busy focusing on Quinn to notice the glare Sam was giving you.

“We should hang out soon, after the summer is over. Maybe catch up with dinner and a movie?” you suggest.

“I’d love that! Alright, I’m gonna go take a walk around the whole camp before dinner, I’ll see you two then!” Quinn said as she walked in the opposite direction that Sam and you were going.

“You realize you just asked her on a date, (Your Name)?” Sam asked as the two of you continued to walk.

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you said, realizing that you had fucked up. Quinn was your ex-girlfriend, but she was still your friend. So in your mind, you thought you were just asking her to hanging out like friends do.

“I’m not upset with you,” Sam reassured you. “I know how you are sometimes, so I know you didn’t mean it like that.”

You looked at her. “But?”

“But it also means that I get to remind you that you belong to me,” Sam hummed.

”Oh,” you gasped, her words going straight to your pussy. You knew it wouldn’t have affected you that much if she hadn’t just worked you up before denying you even a single touch. At this point, you thought if Sam just touched you once you would come.

Sam ignored you as the two of you made your way around the corner. You sighed, putting your hands in your pocket, slightly jumping when Sam spoke up.

“So, what are you into?” she asked. Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment - you weren’t expecting her to ask you right there and then. You stayed quiet for a few minutes as the two of you continued to walk.

“Well,” you paused, taking a deep breath, “I haven’t done too much, but I know I like being choked, slapped, and spanked. I also like being face fucked and… well… I like anal, as well as being degraded.”

Sam smirked, looking down at the ground. “That’s very good to know. I’m into those things as a domme, and a lot more that I would love to try with you, if you want to. Doesn’t have to be now or during the summer; you’re more than welcome to come over. Even if Tara isn’t home, okay? I know this is a lot to take in and I do really like you, so I would love to spend time with you outside of sexual things too.”

You nodded, “Thank you for letting me know.”

Sam took your hand in hers, “I’ve liked you for a long time and I know we can’t do anything here, but I want you to know that I really do care about you…”

“I know you do, so why are you saying all of this?” you asked.

Sam pulled her hand away, bringing it up to her forehead to wipe the sweat. She turned to look at you once more and said, with a straight face, “Oh, because I plan on fucking you as if I fucking hate you, and I want to make sure that you know that I really do like you.”

Your eyes widened, quickly turning your head so Sam couldn’t see the look on your face. You knew you shouldn’t have been surprised, and yet, here you were.

“What?” Sam asked, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“I- nothing, just-“ you began, but she cut you off.

“Oh I know what it is,” Sam hummed. Her confidence was making things worse for the ache between your legs. “You love the idea of me using you roughly, making you feel as if all you’re good for is being a set of holes for me. But after, you can’t wait for me to hold and cuddle you and praise you for being such a good girl for me. Am I wrong?”

You shook your head, whispering, “No, you’re not wrong at all.”

You stopped walking, trying to catch your breath as you took a drink from your own water bottle. Dinner needed to get here sooner; you were hoping that after that, she would give you what you wanted.

“Do you need to sit down? We can rest for a bit if you need to,” Sam said, watching as you nodded.

She helped you sit down on the ground and then sat down next to you. Sam took a drink from her water bottle and when she sat it down, she turned to you.

“Pull your shorts down,” Sam said, watching as you nervously looked around. The two of you were tucked into a corner and even though no one could see you, you were terrified that someone might walk by. Especially Tara.

Although Tara seemed to want the two of you to be together, you were worried that she would be angry if she caught the two of you fucking. It was a silly thought, really, but as Sam tugged at the waistband of your shorts, you focused back on her instead of your anxieties.

“What… what if someone catches us?” you asked, still nervous.

”No one is going to catch us. And even if they did, I would make sure they didn’t say anything to anyone else. Do you trust me, (Your Name)?” Sam asked.

You nodded, “Of course, Sam.”

“Then pull your shorts and underwear down and I’ll give you a little something to keep you going until after dinner,” Sam said.

You did as you were told, pulling both down as you refused to look at Sam. When they were around your ankles, she pushed your legs apart, giving you a look to silently tell you to keep them open. You bit your lip as she wasted no time, bringing her hand between your legs.

“God, you’re so fucking wet. And it’s all for me, yeah?” Sam asked, even though she knew the answer to it.

“Y- Yes, only for you, Sam,” you whimpered as she rubbed at your clit as softly as she could. She was still teasing you, but you were just glad she was touching you.

“When I’m fucking you, you’re to call me ‘Daddy,’ understood?” she asked, pulling her hand away from you.

“Please-“ you began just before Sam spat on her fingers, bringing her hand back to your pussy.

Sam rubbed faster this time, not giving you a chance to ask for more when she slipped a single finger into you. She curled it, fucking it in and out of you. You bit your lip, trying to focus on not coming so soon - having been worked up for a while, you expected it, but you were still embarrassed by how close you already were. Sam noticed, still her finger inside of you mid-thrust.

“You’re so pathetic,” Sam laughed, slipping in a second finger, “You’re already so close and I’ve barely touched you… makes me want to keep you waiting even more.”

“No!” you cried out, “Please, Daddy, please don’t stop. I can’t take anymore teasing. Please.”

Sam shook her head, pulling her fingers out of you. You watched as she brought them to her face, taking both into her mouth. You let out a whimper as she sucked on her own fingers, humming at how good you tasted.

When she pulled them out of her mouth, Sam licked her lips. “You’ll take what I give you because I’m giving it to you. You’ll be a good girl and take it all, because that’ll make me happy. And you want to make me happy, don’t you?”

You nodded, “Yes, Daddy, I do… but-“

“No buts,” Sam cut you off rather quickly.

You sighed, pulling your pants back up. Before you could stand up, Sam stopped you.

“Sam,” you whined, your eyes widened when she grabbed your forearm, “Please stop teasing me.”

Sam’s smile grew wide, “No, I don’t think I will, baby. It’s too much fun.”

You rolled your eyes, frustrated with how close you were. You were desperate and you knew you weren’t going to be able to make it through dinner, let alone wait until tonight. Sam let go of your arm so she could stand. She stuck her hand out to help you up and you took it with no hesitation, despite how desperate you were. A part of you thought she was just doing all of this to fuck with you, and that at the end of the night, she was going to tell you that she had no feelings for you at all.

“Thank you,” you said, picking your water bottle up off the ground. You took a few sips before the two of you continued to walk.

”That building with the red roof is the arts and crafts room. It’s a single room that they used to use for storage, but decided it would be a better fit for something else with how big it is,” Sam pointed out. When you nodded, she continued. “The other building next to it is empty and is never used. We’re also not allowed to use it, but I go in there sometimes at night when I want some alone time to think.”

”It seems like a good spot to clear your head after a stressful day,” you agreed.

Sam seemed ready to say something else when Chad and Tara caught up with the two of you.

“Hey Sam!” Chad smiled, pulling her into a hug, “I see you two are getting along.”

You looked down at the ground in embarrassment, knowing that if Tara could see your face then and there, she would know something was up. The last thing you needed was for Tara to ask you a bunch of questions, because at the end of the day, you were horrible at hiding things from her. She was good at getting information out of you and you were sure she was going to want to know what was going on between you and Sam.

”Yeah, we had a bit of a talk and we’re now on the same page,” Sam said.

You could hear the smirk in her voice without even having to look at Sam, and you knew she was teasing you. You looked up at Tara, instantly regretting it when she gave you a knowing look. I’m so fucked, you thought to yourself as Chad nodded and went on to talk with Sam some more as the four of you began to walk together. You knew that the moment Tara got you alone, she was going to ask you what Sam meant by “being on the same page.”

Did Sam do it on purpose, to make it so you had to wait even longer? Or did she not mean for it to happen? You couldn’t really believe that she didn’t mean to do it, because she knew how her sister was.

”I didn’t realize how hot this summer was going to be,” you complained.

You were relieved that the building you had assumed to be the dining hall was approaching. You wanted to sit down in some air conditioning, and this was your chance to get it before dinner.

”Well, I’m gonna go and get changed for dinner, Tara, you coming?” Chad asked.

Tara smiled at him, “No, I think I’m going to stay with Sam and (Your Name), but I’ll see you when it’s dinner time.”

Chad walked away from the three of you. You felt the awkwardness when you all made it to the dining hall, unsure of what to say or if you even wanted to say something in fear that Tara would ask you questions in front of Sam.

“We can hang out here until it’s time for dinner,” Sam said as she opened the door, letting both you and Tara in first before she followed behind.

“The air conditioning feels so nice,” you groaned, sitting down at one of the tables.

“I agree,” Tara nodded.

“You two get comfortable, I’m going to see how the cooks are doing,” Sam said, patting your back before walking away from both Tara and you.

You started to play with your nails, wanting Sam to come back fast. Tara cleared her throat, causing you to jump.

“So I noticed that you and Sam are getting along better, and this is the longest you have gone without annoying the fuck out of her,” Tara commented, taking the seat next to you.

Suddenly you felt as if the walls were closing in on you, the anxiety making it harder to breathe. “Yeah, w- we, uh-“ you began, but she cut you off.

“I know you’re hiding something and that’s okay, I’ll figure it out, don’t worry,” Tara smirked. “I love you, (Your Name), but whatever the two of you have going on, please don’t fuck it up.”

You have her a puzzling look, “Why would I fuck anything up? If, you know, there’s something there… which there isn’t.”

“You’re such a bad liar,” Tara rolled her eyes. “I’m not supposed to say anything, but you are my best friend. Sam… ever since Richie… she’s been different when it comes to dating. Maybe me saying ‘don’t fuck anything up’ is the wrong word choice, so I apologize for that. She… I don’t know how to explain it.”

You looked down at the table, unsure of how to respond to that. You bit your lip, wanting Sam to get back to the two of you faster than she was.

“Please don’t let that be your reason for not trying,” Tara said, and you thought it was because she sensed your anxiety. “Also don’t tell Sam I said anything, she’d kill me.”

You looked up at Tara with a small smile. “You’re right about that.”

You weren’t entirely sure what she meant, but for the time being, you decided not to question anything. You were stuck at Camp Crystal Lake for the whole summer and the last thing you needed was to fuck everything up and have to deal with things being awkward for three months.

Of course, after the first camp week was over with, you could ask to change cabins. Tara would be the most up to doing it, you were sure of it. But you didn’t want that - you had been wanting Sam for years and you weren’t going to ruin your chance just because you wanted to ask questions. You and Tara sat in silence, waiting for Sam to get back. Finally after what felt like a full hour (but was really only about fifteen minutes), Sam appeared again.

“Sorry about that, Quinn and I were talking about a few things,” Sam said, trying to hide the irritation in her voice. You and Tara knew her too well; she was doing such a terrible job.

“Are you okay?” you asked without thinking.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” Sam snapped, taking a seat next to Tara instead of you. You knew you shouldn’t have been surprised - she was her sister - but you were a little hurt.

You frowned at Tara before looking back down at your hands. You hated feeling as if you had done something wrong, but you also knew Sam wasn't trying to make you feel that way.

You wished you had your phone so you could distract yourself from the thought of Sam being irritated with you.

“Hey Sam?” Tara asked, causing you to flinch a little.

You refused to look up, not wanting to see Sam glaring at you.

“Yeah?” Sam asked, her voice calmer than it had been.

“You need to lower your tone. (Your Name) was just asking if you’re okay because she cares about you,” Tara snapped, making your eyes widen. You had never heard Tara stand up to Sam like that - especially not on your behalf.

Sam took a deep breath, “I’m sorry, (Your Name), Tara is right. You were just asking out of concern and that’s on me.”

“It’s okay,” you said, finally looking up at her.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked.

For the first time, you saw real concern on her face and it melted your heart. You couldn’t believe that all of this was happening.

“I’m sure,” you nodded, “But please, try not to snap at me again. We just started talking and I want this to continue.”

“I’ll try my best, but I promise you did nothing wrong. Quinn just made a comment and it irritated me. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you when you were just worried,” Sam admitted.

“Thank you.”

Finally, the other counselors flooded in; it was time for dinner. You were relieved, realizing that you were starting to get hungry. You took your place in line and as soon as you got your food, you sat back down at the spot you were in before. You breathed a sigh of relief when Sam sat down next to you.

“Make sure you eat as much as you can,” Sam leaned in and whispered, “You’re going to need all the energy you can get. If you still want me to fuck you, that is.”

You nodded frantically, “I- I still want you to fuck me. More than anything.”

Sam smirked, “More than anything?”

You nodded again, “Yes, Daddy.”

You went straight to eating your food, not wanting to say anything more to Sam, fearing that someone might overhear. When Tara and Chad sat down across from you and Sam, you began talking to Chad about your favorite TV show. Sam stayed quiet, occasionally looking at you while you talked, in awe. You only noticed once Tara started to smirk at you.

When you were done, you excused yourself. Throwing your trash away and returning the tray, you made your way out the door and toward the cabin. You needed to change into something more comfortable, having walked around in the heat for most of the day.

You changed into pajamas and laid down in bed, deciding that you were going to try to take a quick nap before Sam got back to the cabin. Closing your eyes, you pictured how Sam was going to fuck - if she was going to fuck you, at least. You were still worried that she was only playing with your feelings as payback for how much you had annoyed her purposefully over the years. Although, if Tara and Chad both knew something positive, you don’t think they would let you think she was being honest if she wasn’t.

You couldn’t sleep, too excited to see what would happen. Just as you sat up, Sam came into the room. You watched as she sat her water bottle down on the nightstand next to her bed. She pulled her shirt off, revealing the black tank top she had underneath. You licked your lips, the sight of her muscles making you ache to see more.

”I can feel you staring, and if you want something, you need to ask,” Sam said firmly. “I’m not going to hand you anything, baby. You’re going to have to earn it.”

”Sam,” you whined, causing Sam to turn to you.

”Yes?” she responded, a mocking tone in her voice that made goosebumps form on your skin, “What would you like?”

”I…” you trailed off, the words refusing to come out right away.

“Use your words. Or did you forget how to use them? Hm?” Sam teased, getting closer to you. When you looked down at the floor, Sam grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at her. “Oh I see what’s happening. When that pretty little pussy of yours gets all wet, you get fucking stupid. Is that what it is, pretty baby?”

You closed your eyes, “Yes, Daddy. Can’t think when I’m horny.”

Sam smiled, letting go of your chin. “Good girl. Don’t you worry about having to think anymore - I can do that for you. Now tell Daddy what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

”I want you to fuck me, I’ve been wanting it for so long,” you admitted, “Please, can’t wait any longer.”

Sam moved back to her bed, sitting on the edge while she raked her eyes over your body. “Strip for me.”

You did as you were told, pulling your shirt off and throwing it onto the ground. You then pulled your shorts down, kicking them off you as quickly as you could.

“Stand up and c’mere,” Sam ordered. You did as you were told, getting up quickly and moving towards her.

Sam placed her hands on your hips, turning around so your back was facing her. “You’re so fucking sexy,” Sam hummed, unclasping your bra. “I can’t wait to fucking ruin you.”

Sam hooked her fingers underneath the waistband of your underwear, slowly pulling them down. You bit your lip as you tried to be patient. Sam was taking her time and you hated it. As soon as your underwear was around your ankles, you kicked them off. Without a word, you turned around to face her.

“Did I say you could turn back around?” Sam asked, slapping your thigh hard.

“No, but-“ you began, but Sam cut you off with another slap in the same spot. You whimpered, watching as Sam licked her lips.

“So if I didn’t tell you to turn around, what should you do?” Sam questioned, crossing her arms over her chest as she waited for you to do what you were supposed to do.

You turned back around, your back facing her once more. Sam guided you to move a little bit before she stood up. You turned your head as best as you could, but Sam slapped your ass. “Did I say you could look at me?” she asked.

You turned your head back to look straight ahead, not wanting Sam to drag it out any longer than she had already. You closed your eyes as Sam began to grab your ass - whining when she removed her hands.

“Stay still,” she warned, standing up behind you. She pulled her tanked top off, then her shorts and underwear. “Bend over your bed for me.”

You were a little confused. Was she going to fuck you now? You’d think she would at least take a little time getting you ready. Despite your confusion, you did as you were told, bending over your bed right in front of her.

“Fuck,” Sam breathed, coming up behind you, “I want to fuck your ass so badly, but that can wait for different day.”

“D- Daddy,” you whined as Sam brought her hand down to your pussy.

“What is it?” Sam asked, slipping a single finger inside of you. When you didn’t respond, she spoke again, “Come on, answer me. Just because I’ve got one finger in you, doesn’t mean you’re allowed to be stupid.”

“M’need more,” you whispered.

Sam sighed in faux irritation. “You need more? Because it seems to me that you could come with me just fucking you with one finger, considering how much you’re squeezing.”

You cried out, “Please, Sam!”

“Fine,” Sam said, pulling her finger out of you. She brought it to her mouth, cleaning it off with her tongue. Pulling out from between her lips, she spat on her fingers before bringing them back to your pussy.

Sam slowly rubbed at your clit as she moved to sit on her knees behind you. She leaned in as she slipped two fingers into you, biting your ass before trailing her tongue all the way to your asshole. She tested the waters, circling her tongue around your entrance before pushing it in just a little.

“Oh- that’s,” you moaned, gripping the sheets. Sam’s tongue on your ass felt strange in the best way and you wanted her to keep going.

As Sam continued to fuck her tongue in and out of you, she kept the same pace with her fingers. You were usually shy the first couple of times you had sex with someone new, but everything felt too good for you to really care.

“D- Daddy,” you moaned. Hearing Sam chuckle against your skin brought you closer to the orgasm you were trying to fight off. “Please- Please, I’m so, so close. Please let me come.”

Sam pulled her mouth away and hummed, “Go ahead and come for your Daddy.”

You bit down on the sheets on your bed as you came, not wanting to be heard by anyone passing by. Sam pulled out her fingers, smacking your ass with the hand that was just inside of you. “Get on your knees,” she demanded.

You quickly obeyed, looking up at Sam with wide eyes. “Open,” she said, and you did as you were told. Opening your mouth as wide as you could without hesitation, you had no time to react as Sam shoved two fingers into your mouth. You gagged around them, trying your best to suck when she was pushing them deeper down your throat.

“God, you look so fucking pretty with tears in your eyes,” Sam praised, leaning down over you. “Close your eyes.”

You weren’t sure why she was telling you to do that, but you closed your eyes - doing as she had ordered. You flinched, pulling your mouth off her fingers when Sam spat on you.

“You want something else in your mouth?” Sam asked, smearing her spit across your face.

You took a deep breath, opening your eyes once you felt comfortable enough. You nodded and without a word, Sam gripped the base of the toy and brought the tip to your lips. You welcomed the toy into your mouth, pushing inch by inch until your nose touched her stomach. When you pulled off the toy, a string of drool was left connecting your mouth to it.

Sam jerked the toy off, spreading your drool all over it. “God you’re so fucking pretty. Come on, get back on my cock.”

You leaned back in, taking the toy in your mouth before Sam grabbed your head with both of her hands. She kept you in place while she began to fuck your face at a slow pace. You looked up at Sam, trying your best to suppress the gag reflex that was threatening to act up. Sam sped up her movements as she kept a firm grip on your head.

You gagged, causing your eyes to water - which made Sam pick up her pace. You breathed through your nose, trying to relax as she pushed you down further on it, making you gag again.

“You’re such a filthy fucking whore for me, letting me choke you with my cock when anyone can just walk in. I bet you’d like that, huh?” Sam teased.

Sam fucked your face harder, letting one of her hands come down to pinch at your nose. You pushed at her thighs as you tried your best to stay relaxed. Finally, Sam let go of your nose to slap your face as she continued to fuck your mouth.

Sam pinched your nose closed once more, this time she stopped thrusting to hold you down on the strapon. You gagged again, not once, but twice before Sam pushed you off her. You gasped for breath, as you wiped the spit from your mouth with the back of your hand.

“On my bed, on your back,” Sam said, grabbing her water bottle and taking a sip. As you went to lay down, Sam handed it to you. “Take a few sips - you’re going to need it.”

You did before handing the bottle back to her. Sam smiled, “Good girl.” She sat it down on the nightstand before climbing into the bed and between your legs.

“Spread your legs. Wider,” she said, reaching over to open the nightstand drawer to grab a bottle of lube.

You watched as she squeezed some onto her hand. Bringing her now-lubricated hand to your pussy, she rubbed it into you, causing you to whimper. “Now this is your first and final warning: I’m going to fuck you like you’re nothing to me and I want you to know that’s not the case. Okay?”

You nodded, “I understand. I want it, want you to put me in my place, Daddy.”

Sam rubbed the tip of the toy against your clit and through your folds. “You stop me at any time if you need me to, okay?”

“I will, I promise.”

“Good girl,” Sam said as she pushed the strapon all the way inside you.

You let out a pained cry as Sam fucked you at a bruising pace. You brought your hand down to rub at your clit, but Sam smacked it away.

“You don’t get to touch yourself, fuckin’ greedy whore,” Sam spat, bringing her hand up to wrap around your throat. She squeezed hard, causing you to choke as she continued to fuck you.

“Nothing but a set of holes for me to fuck,” Sam grunted, letting go of your throat. “If I knew how easy you’d be, I would have done this so much sooner.”

“Fuck, S- Sam,” you gasped.

“Shut the fuck up,” Sam growled, glaring at you.

Sam slapped you across the face, using her free hand to keep herself balanced. You whimpered, feeling yourself getting closer to your orgasm. You figured Sam sensed it as well, pulling out of you.

“What the-“ you began, but Sam slapped your pussy as hard as she could.

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you that toys don’t fucking talk?” Sam asked, shoving the strapon back into you. “You really do like to be treated like you’re nothing, huh? It’s really fucking pathetic.”

Sam picked up her pace once more, not saying a word as she focused on fucking you.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you begged. You were once again on the verge of an orgasm, but Sam ignored you. ”Daddy.”

”Pleasepleaseplease, Daddy,” Sam mocked.

Sam brought her hands up to your nipples, pinching them as hard as she could. It sent you over the edge and - to your surprise - she fucked you through your orgasm, not stopping. Sam didn’t let up, she continued at the same pace.

“I- I’m coming aga-!“ you cried out, but Sam covered your mouth.

“I’m going to have to teach you to shut up, don’t I?” Sam moaned, feeling her own orgasm approaching. “Go on, come for me, my pretty little fleshlight.”

You came, this time unable to cry out as she continued to cover your mouth. Sam stopped for a moment, leaning over you and taking one of your nipples into her mouth after moving her hand away from yours. She bit down, pulling it between her teeth.

“Fuck, ow,” you whimpered.

You kept grinding against Sam while her strapon was still inside of you. Letting go of your nipple, Sam asked, “You want to come again?”

You nodded, “Yes.”

Sam licked your nipple before sitting up straight again. “Do you think you’ve earned it? You already came twice. I’ve got a greedy set of holes here.”

Sam slowly pulled out halfway, looking down and letting spit fall from her mouth and onto the toy. She pushed the strapon back inside of you, beginning at a slow pace this time.

“All you’re good for is being my fucktoy, yeah?” Sam questioned, holding your thighs in place. She didn’t trust you, knowing you would try to close your legs when she wasn’t paying attention. “Repeat it back to me, you stupid slut.”

“I- I’m only good for be- being your fucktoy, Daddy,” you repeated, earning a satisfied smile from Sam.

“Yeah you are,” Sam laughed, picking up the pace, “Is that why Quinn fucked you last week? Hm? Are you a set of holes for her? Are you?”

“I-“ you began, unsure of how Sam would know that or why she would bring it up.

It was true, Quinn had called you over to hang out like the two of you normally did, but as the night went on, with the way Quinn was looking at you, you caved and ended up letting Quinn fuck you. You just weren’t expecting Sam to know about it. Then it clicked - that’s why she was annoyed when she came back in from talking to Quinn.

“I- it just happened, fuck-“ you cut yourself as Sam brought her hand down to rub at your clit, “It won’t happen again, D-Daddy.”

“No, it won’t, because you’re mine,” Sam snapped, pulling the toy out of you.

You cried out, unsure why she did that. Sam crawled up the bed so the strapon was right in front of your face.

“Clean up your mess, whore,” Sam said, watching as you strained your neck to get the toy into your mouth.

Sam grew impatient, fucking your face at a rough pace. You gagged as the tip of the toy hit the back of your throat, making you cry. Instead of stopping for a moment, Sam continued to fuck your mouth at a rough pace.

“God, I can’t wait to use you anytime I want. And you’re going to let me, right?” Sam asked.

When you didn’t answer, Sam stopped mid-thrust. “I asked you a question and I expect an answer. Or should I go tell Quinn that you want her back?”

“Mm hm mm!” you tried to say, but it was difficult to speak with your mouth full.

Sam knew what you were trying to say, smiling down at you before she continued her thrusts again. You looked up at her again, your vision blurry from crying.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you cry,” Sam moaned, coming as she fucked your face with the strapon.

She took a deep breath before pulling out of your mouth. Sam wiped your spit from your mouth, rubbing it all over your face as you whimpered.

“Get on all fours,” Sam ordered.

You did as you were told, getting on your hands and knees as Sam got off the bed to grab something.

“Has Quinn ever fucked your ass?” Sam asked, grabbing a condom from her backpack.

“N- No, Daddy,” you whimpered, stopping yourself from turning to look at her.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt the dip in the bed. Sam was behind you, running her hand against the small of your back.

“Are you lying to me?” Sam asked.

You looked back at her, “I- I would never lie to you! She’s never fucked my ass because… well…”

“Because?” Sam pushed.

“I wanted you to be the one to fuck my ass, if there was a chance that you liked me,” you admitted, looking back down at the sheets. You were embarrassed, unsure of what Sam was going to say.

“You were waiting for me to be the one to fuck your ass, yeah? Am I hearing you right?”

You took a deep breath. “Yes, you heard me right.”

“Has anyone fucked your ass?” Sam asked, her voice much softer than has been all night.

“No.”

Sam took a deep breath before getting off the bed. “Then we won’t be doing anal at all this summer. I’m not going to be rough the first time with you. Okay?”

“Okay,” you said, getting out of the position to sit at the edge of the bed, “Are you upset with me?”

“Oh no,” Sam said softly. “Why would I ever be mad at you?”

“Quinn… A week ago I didn’t know this was going to happen between us, but I promise, I only want you,” you reassured her.

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed with you, wrapping her arm around you. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Sam asked with a concerned look on her face.

You shook your head, “Not at all, I had a lot of fun.”

“I’m so glad,” Sam smiled. “You were such a good girl for me, y’know that?”

You bit your lip as you felt your cheeks heat up. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now let’s get you all cleaned up.” Sam stood up, grabbing a washcloth from her drawer. She walked into the bathroom and came back out.

She helped wash your face off, then your thighs, occasionally leaving soft kisses on your arm and shoulder.

Sam threw the washcloth on the floor and you assumed she was going to get it later. “Would you like to wear something or would you rather sleep naked?”

“I’ll sleep naked,” you said. “Can we cuddle?”

Sam laid down on the bed, patting the space next to her. “Of course we can.”

You laid down next to her on your side, closing your eyes and smiling to yourself. You weren’t sure how you got this lucky, but you were glad that you finally got what you had wanted for years.

“I’m sorry if that killed the mood,” you said.

Sam wrapped her arms around you. “Nothing you did killed the mood, I could just tell you needed a break. Plus, I’m in no rush considering we have all summer and after. I would tell you if you did something to kill my mood.”

“Okay.”

You quickly fell asleep, feeling safe in Sam’s arms.

[the-oblivious-writer]

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!"

[pimpnchips]

Party Girl

Tara Carpenter x G!p Reader

Warnings: Smut

Not proof read!!

Summary: Tara finds you smoking with another girl

The ride home was silent.

Tara and Y/n were leaving a party after a pretty big argument, Tara had a bit too much to drink and saw Y/n sharing a blunt with another girl. So without thinking she went up to them and threw what was left of her drink on the random blonde.

"What the fuck bitch?!" The girl said while jumping out of her seat, drenched in alcohol.

"Who the fuck are you calling a bitch, bitch??" Tara said getting up in the girls face. Anyone could see that Tara was drunk out of her mind.

Y/n stood up and squeezed in between the two girls facing Tara, "baby chill out."

"Chill out?" Tara said looking at Y/n like she was crazy.

"Yeah chill the fuck out," the random girl said, wiping herself off with a towel an onlooker gave her.

"Oh yea? Why don't you say that to my face you fucking cunt!" Tara said walking around Y/n toward the girl.

One thing led to another, which led to y/n and Tara getting kicked out of the party. Y/n had to help Tara into the passenger seat of her truck, Tara still screaming at the girl who was still inside.

Y/n climbed into her truck, cranked it up and pulled out of the party.

"You don't think you could've resolved that a little differently?" Y/n said driving down the dark empty highway, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on her dick.

"Yea I could've actually,” Tara said looking out the window. " I could've rung that bitch by the neck, who the fuck does she think she is ?”

Tara started on one of her rants again.

"Babe, babe just shut up please? I have a headache. We drove to a fucking party 30 minutes away just to get kicked out after two hours, all thanks to you."

"Shut up? Shut up??" Tara said with a surprised tone as she turns towards y/n getting up in her face, "What are you some kind of dirty slut now, sharing blunts with another girl who probably get’s passed around more then your fucking blunt."

“Are you fucking serious?” She leans back, shaking her head.

Y/n’s dick started to get stiff, it turns her on when Tara’s mean to her.

Tara looks down and notices y/n’s cock tightening on her crotch, she immediately knows what's happening as she smirks to herself.

"What are you horny now?" Tara says giggling leaning closer to y/n face, " you're my dirty little slut aren't you baby." She whispers into y/n’s ear.

Y/n could feel her breathing on her neck and it sent shivers down her spine. "Fuck," she mumbled.

Tara started kissing her neck, so softly, her tongue grazing y/n’s bare neck. Tara slowly slid her hand down y/n’s chest, and over her groin.

"Shit baby," Tara whispered giggling into y/n’s ear. "you're so hard baby, doesn't it hurt?"

Y/n grunted as she was trying her best to pay attention to the rode, her hands becoming clammy, now having both hands gripping the wheel.

"Let me do you a favor baby," Tara said unbuckling y/n’s belt with one hand, and the other around the back of her neck.

Tara’s warm fingers fiddled their way into y/n’s pants. "Babe.." Y/n said but was cut off by the feeling of her dick springing out of her pants.

Tara’s fingers played with the tip playfully, teasing y/n.

"Babyy," Tara said pouting, "are you still mad at me?”

"Huh? No baby, no, of course not," Y/n said completely forgetting about their argument earlier.

"Good," Tara smiled, then kissing her neck harder then before.

Tara’s right hand now sliding up and down y/n’s long dick, and her left hand sliding underneath y/n’s shirt, gripping her soft titties.

Y/n groaned in pleasure, her dick craved Tara, she was the only one who knew how to make her feel so good.

Tara placed her right hand at the very bottom of y/n’s dick, and started slowly licking the tip. Her tongue dancing in circles around the tip, teasing y/n.

"Mommy.. fuck," y/n moaned in pleasure, barely paying attention to the road at this point. She took one hand off the steering wheel and placed it on the back of Tara’s head, shoving her head down.

Y/n’s head jolted back in pleasure as she let out a loud moan, she could feel her dick all the way down Tara’s tight throat.

Tara popped her head up, and put it right back down. Sucking y/n’s dick, deepthroating it.

"Fuck.. Fuck.." y/n moaned in pleasure, as the car swerved back and forth.

As Tara picked up her pace , and y/n feeling her climax coming, y/n pulled over hurriedly into the nearest parking lot not worried about parking.

Tara popped her head up one last time to spit on y/n’s wet dick, and continued deep throating.

Y/n’s grip on Tara’s hair tightened, as she threw her head back letting out a scream like moan. Cumming all in Tara’s mouth.

Tara sat up smiling, admiring y/n as she was catching her breath. Tara gave her a wet kiss, at first y/n was kissing back softly, but then it turned more aggressive. Y/n grabbing Tara’s neck pulling her closer, her tongue down Tara’s throat. Tara pulled away, now catching her breath too.

"Come here baby," y/n said leaning back in her seat, spreading her legs.

"I am here baby," Tara said giggling.

"No, come here." Y/n said sternly as she motioned for Tara to sit on her lap.

Tara blushed, as she slowly climbed over the middle console. Placing her knees on either side of y/n’s lap, her pussy right above y/n’s dick.

As they stared at each other full of lust and desire, y/n slips both of Tara’s dress straps off her shoulders, revealing her tan breasts.

"You have such pretty nipples," Y/n said as she started to squeeze them.

Tara whined, as her pussy started becoming unbearably hot. Y/n leaned closer to her beginning to kiss, the suck her hard nipples.

Tara let out a soft moan, as y/n began to suck harder and gripping her waist with her toned hands. Pleasure taking over Tara’s whole body.

"Oh baby," Tara said yearning for more.

"What baby?" Y/n said releasing her nipples, now staring up at her, "tell me what you want baby." Tara hesitated a little embarrassed to say it out loud, but her desire got the best of her. "Fuck me. I want you to fuck me."

Y/n grinned as she slowly pulled Tara’s short dress up beneath her waist, revealing her black lace thong. Y/n bent down and kissed her pussy through her panties, then moved them to the side of her pussy.

“What a pretty pink pussy baby, you’re so wet for daddy huh?” Y/n said while dragging her finger through Tara’s folds, then licking them.

Tara placed both her hands on the sides of y/n’s neck, “please. fuck me,” Tara begged.

Y/n gripped Tara’s hips and thrusted into her in a swift motion. Her thrusts in a fast motion. Tara slid her finger’s into y/n’s hair and gripped for her life, her head flew back as she felt y/n’s dick slam against her pussy.

“Oh fuck!” She screamed.

Y/n lifted her up and down making her ride her dick, as Tara’s titties bounced in her face.

A lot of moaning and panting later Tara was laying on y/n’s chest, exhausted. The windows all fogged up, anyone passing by could clearly tell what y/n and Tara just spent an hour doing.

“I love you baby,” y/n said, smiling in her own lworld.

“I love you more, my love,” Tara smiled.

[sku-nk]

I've been inspired Skunk. Do you lnow that TikTok trend where it's like "When they're all up on my girl in public but she thinks they're just being friendly" and it's that audio that's like COME HERE.

Can I request that.

Come Here.

Synopsis: Some guy's getting a little too close for comfort. Unfortunately for Sam, you're oblivious to it.

Warnings: Language, jealous Sam, Not really controlling but bossy Sam, Just funny shit

A/n: i got your other ask clarifying who u wanted :))

Nothing is ever simple. Never.

Actually, there are a few things that are simple. A lot even. Things that are exactly as they're supposed to be, things that never have any extra complications.

With you nothing is ever simple. there has to be at least billion things that actually prove themselves to be what they should be, yet anything regarding you just can't be one of those things.

Like shopping.

It was supposed to be a boring little shopping trip. It was supposed to be quick. Pick up some things you need around the house, stuff you've ran out of and stuff you've suddenly realized you need. Maybe convince Sam to take you to Victoria's Secret and leave a dent in her wallet.

Honestly, Sam would prefer that to what's going on instead. She'd prefer anything over this. Like sleeping in, or watching a movie, or maybe punching that dude who's got his hand on your back.

What's worse is that you don't even seem to realize what he's doing. You've clearly been standing there for a while now, speaking to some stupid guy with a stupid chain and an even stupider fake deep voice.

At first Sam didn't even know where you were, you'd just wandered off. She'd assumed you were going to get something else on the list. When she caught up to you, finding you at the other end of the baking isle, she wished she'd followed you.

"Just need to start looking right, you know?" This guy says, standing much too close for comfort. "Pull a ten, maybe."

You nod, smiling. "I'm sure you will, Ryan," you say politely.

Sam can see the way his eyes rake over you, the look on his face so clearly filled with want it's actually ridiculous you're oblivious to it. Then again, you always have been. That's how you were with her.

"Shit, if I was like you, I wouldn't need to do all this. But you're just mad pretty," Ryan says, laughing for whatever reason. You're smiling kindly but Sam's got what's probably the dirtiest of looks on her face.

"Oh, thank you," you smile. Sam rolls her eyes. This dude's not your friend.

"Y/n," she says, making her presence known. Your eyes widen and an even bigger smile graces your face, head whipping in the direction you heard the voice. Ryan looks too, though his face is more curious than anything.

"Sammy," you say, as Ryan's hand drops from your back. Sam feels herself let out a breath despite the fact that you're still a little too close to this guy.

"Come here," she says, arms crossing.

"Hold on, this is Ry-" you begin, pointing at the guy who's now a good two and a half feet away, though you don't get the chance to finish.

"Come here." Sam points at the ground in front of her.

You tilt your head, glancing between Ryan and Sam, but you don't protest. You make a face, something between confusion and annoyance. Sam doesn't notice, or else she doesn't care.

"Now," she says, something in her voice possessing an odd sort of finality. You let out an exaggerated sigh and glance at Ryan, who seems to be just as confused as you.

"Sorry, Ryan," you say as you speed up. For some reason, this causes Sam to sigh and roll her eyes again.

She's irritable all of a sudden, you think. She shoots the not so poor guy a look, a look that has him stepping back even further.

"Let's go," she says impatiently as her eyes land on you, urging you to hurry up. You give her a look of your own.

"Why'd you do that?" you ask, despite the fact that you're doing exactly as she's told you to, glancing back like that dude's actually stupid enough to still be standing there. Sam grabs your sleeve and pulls you little closer even though it really doesn't benefit her in the slightest (besides making her feel better) and leans onto the cart.

" 'Cause I did. When you're shopping, you're shopping with me," she tells you, tone suggesting that you doing otherwise is an insult or something alike. "Not some weird ass dude."

"Ryan's not weird-"

"He's weird!" Sam cuts in, throwing a hand up. "Weird and wants you. You're with me, you're shopping with me."

You almost laugh. It's funny. What is she even talking about? Ryan wants you? That guy you just met? Sam notices your little smile out of the corner of her eye and scoffs.

"It's funny 'till he wants a smooch," she says, dead serious.

That does it.

You can't hold it any longer. You burst into a fit of giggles, smacking Sam on the arm. "He was being nice, relax," you laugh, as Sam rolls her eyes for the millionth time.

"He doesn't need to, he's being a little too nice."

"It's not that deep, I promise!" you tell her, grin unwavering.

"It's always that deep! Everybody wants you! All the time! I do!" Sam shoots back, instinctively straightening up as you grab the cart, shaking your head and beginning to push it down the isle. She nearly pulls her hair out when you start fully laughing at her again.

"Made me forget what I was over here for," you say to yourself as Sam follows behind you, saying something about the elderly crossing guard across the street checking you out.

"So you need to stay with me all the time!"

I dunno how to end this guys

[comet-forgot-you]

could you do sam carpenter smut please?

smut. 18+ pls.

do not repost for any reason.

her coming home from the gym, pressing a kiss to your head. she hardly says anything, mumbling something about feeling so gross and how she desperately needed a shower. you groan, having not seen her almost all day due to your schedules not aligning.

minutes pass, the water turns on and you can’t get the image of sam out of your head. water droplets rolling down her tan skin, the hot water, the pump of her muscles from her workout, it wouldnt leave your head. you needed her, you needed her now.

you go to the bathroom, knocking just enough for her to hear. a muffled “come in,” comes from the other side and you open the door. the sight of sam behind fogged shower doors nearly has your knees buckling. she looks so good, so fucking good. your tongue darts across your lips, wetting them.

“can i join you?” you dont wait for a response before you’re stripping your clothes. sure, you had taken a shower not even an hour ago, but you needed sam now.

“yeah,” sam mumbles, a knowing smirk on her lips. you join her in the shower, the hot water hitting your skin, you can hardly feel it, far too focused on how good your girlfriend looked. her hands reach for your waist, pulling you in closer to her. “see something you like?” she teases when your eyes dont meet her own.

theyre taking in her figure. her toned muscles, her tits, the water rolling down her body. she looked too good not to eat. you dont respond, pushing her against the cold, tiled wall and pressing your lips against her own. she groans slightly at your splay of dominance.

your lips leave her own, trailing down her neck, to her chest, taking a pebbled nipple into your mouth. “fuck.” she huffs, fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you closer. you groan against her nipple, your hands moving to roam her body.

her abs flexed under your touch and she takes her bottom lip into her mouth. you drop to your knees, hoisting one of her legs over your shoulder. you press open mouthed kisses to her thigh, the muscles flexing slightly. god she was so sexy, you needed her now.

you bite down on her thigh, certain to leave a mark. she hisses at the feeling, fingers tugging at your hair. “y/n,” she warns, glaring down at you. you look up at her with innocent eyes.

“hmm?” you hum, pulling away from her thighs to meet her warm cunt. she doesnt respond, sucking in a breath when your mouth takes her swollen clit. she lets out a shaky breath, barely audible over the water.

you flatten your tongue against her clit, humming against it. sam’s grip in your hair loosens for a moment, and when you circle her entrance with your tongue, its tightening as she pulls you closer. the floor of the shower digs into your skin, but you cant seem to focus on it, your need for sam drowning it out.

“fuck!” her voice echoes off of the shower walls, your fingers pushing into her cunt. you glance up at her, her abs flexing once again. your pump your fingers in and out of her at a fast pace, your tongue working at her clit.

shes so fucking hot. she brings a hand up to cover her mouth and you hate it. you need to hear her, you need to have as much of her as you can. you tug her hand away from her mouth and sam glares down at you. “what the fuck?” shes not used to you being the more dominant one, but when she sees the way you look at her, like you want to devour her, it has her feeling some type of way.

you pull off of her cunt, licking at your lips. “i wanna hear you so bad, sam,” you plead desperately. it sends heat throughout her body.

“yeah?” she groans, bucking her hips against your fingers. you nod, free hand moving to keep her hips in place.

“so bad, sammy,” you whisper. your mouth is back on her in an instant, lapping away at her cunt. her hips strain against your arm, desperate to rut her cunt into your mouth. you glare up at her, a warning look in your eye and she lets out a high pitched moan.

your fingers fuck into her, curling every so often. her walls clamp around your fingers the closer she gets to her orgasm, her moan bouncing off of the shower walls. its hard to breathe, the water and your busy mouth restricting your breath slightly, but you dont seem to care. you need her, you need her bad.

“fuck,” she groans out, arms flexing slightly as she grips your hair. “gonna cum,” she mumbles, abs tensing. you smile against her cunt and she can feel it, a groan falling from her lips.

she lets go of your hair, moving to hold onto the handlebar for stability. your fingers curl inside of her one last time and shes coming undone, a drawn out groan falling from her lips. “fuck,” she groans out. your arm drops from her stomach and shes quick to buck against your mouth.

you pull away from her, bringing your fingers to your mouth to clean them of her orgasm. you press a kiss to her thigh the moment your fingers leave your lips, wrapping your arm around her thigh to pull it off of your shoulder. you trail kisses up her body until you reach her lips.

“you looked too good not to eat, baby,” you whisper. her breathing is heavy, eyes not sure where to look, flickering from your eyes to your lips. you smile before stepping out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your body.

a minute passes before sam is groaning, “you wasted all my hot water.”

[luffyssa]

tag your fav writers here to show some appreciation! <3 i'll go first: @cherikolya @osarina @tonycries

[halfmoonaria]

unanswered

pairing: tara carpenter and reader

summary: you break the cycle of being the second choice.

wordcount: 3.1k

tara <3 (10:27pm)

i miss you.

can you come over?

sam's not home.

You stared at the messages for a moment, a mix of emotions churning in your chest.

It wasn't the first time Tara had texted you like this—far from it.

Every couple of weeks, when the night stretched out too long and too quiet, she reached out to you. It had become a pattern, one you were all too familiar with.

You knew why she was texting.

It wasn't because she was lonely, at least not in the way you wished she was.

Tara was thinking about Amber.

Amber, who had her wrapped around her finger. You knew how Tara saw her, like she was something special, someone Tara wanted more than anything.

But Amber. Amber only wanted Tara when it suited her, when she needed someone to make her feel powerful, desired.

When Amber wasn't around, Tara turned to you. You were the one who picked up the pieces, who made her feel wanted when Amber didn't care to.

You knew it wasn't about love, not for Tara—not like you wanted it to be. It was about comfort, about filling the void Amber left behind when she was off doing her own thing.

But every time Tara texted, asking you to come over, you went.

You told yourself you'd resist, that this time you wouldn't give in, but the moment you saw her name on your screen, all your resolve crumbled.

Because for those few hours, you got to be the one she wanted, the one she needed, even if it was just physical. Even if it wasn't enough.

You typed out a quick reply, agreeing to come over, even though you knew how it would end. You would be there for her that night, but tomorrow or the next day, Amber would come back, and you would be forgotten, left waiting for the next time Tara needed you.

As you headed to her place, you thought about how it would go.

She would open the door, looking relieved, like she had been waiting for you. You would follow her inside, and before long, she'd be pulling you close, her hands desperate, her lips searching.

And you'd give in, just like you always did, because in those moments, it almost felt like she wanted you, like she needed you.

But in the back of your mind, you knew the truth. You weren't her first choice—Amber was.

You were the one she turned to when Amber wasn't there, when she needed someone, anyone, to fill the space Amber left behind.

And when Amber did want Tara, everything changed.

The texts stopped coming. You sent her messages, trying to check in, to see how she was doing, but they went unanswered.

It was like you didn't exist. Tara disappeared into Amber's world, wrapped up in her like nothing else mattered.

And when you finally did hear from her, it was a curt response, a text saying she wasn't ready for a relationship, that inviting you over had been a mistake. The words stung, even though you had heard them before.

Then the next day, you saw them at school, Tara and Amber, tangled together like they were the only people in the world.

Amber's arm was slung around Tara's shoulders, and Tara was laughing, looking at Amber like she was the only one that mattered.

You watched from a distance, that familiar ache gnawing at your insides, knowing that you were just caught in a loop—a constant cycle that never seemed to end.

You told yourself you'd stop. That the next time Tara reached out, you wouldn't go. But you knew the truth. You'd go, every time, because for those few hours, she was yours, even if it was all a lie.

And maybe, just maybe, you'd let yourself believe that this time, things would be different.

————

It wasn't different.

After leaving Tara's place, you had gone home late at night, slipping out quietly once she had fallen asleep.

The routine was almost ritualistic, carved into your brain. Waiting until the room was silent, then making your way back into the solitude of your own space.

Sleep had been elusive, haunted by the warmth of her presence and the cold reality of your situation.

The night before had been a predictable spiral of emotions. Amber had been ignoring Tara's messages for three long days. Tara had tried repeatedly to reach out, her texts becoming increasingly desperate and tinged with frustration.

Amber's silence had left her feeling raw and abandoned. The usual pattern of their volatile relationship had taken its toll on Tara.

When Tara reached out to you, she had come to you with that familiar blend of vulnerability and need.

It had begun with her confiding in you about Amber's absence, her frustration palpable.

She had spoken of feeling neglected and unwanted, her words mingling with tears as she expressed how Amber's disregard had left her feeling empty.

As the evening wore on, her need for reassurance had grown more intense.

Tara had sought out your touch as if trying to fill the void left by Amber's absence. Her need for physical closeness was almost desperate, driven by the emotional turmoil she was experiencing.

But even as you gave her what she asked for, you knew it was a temporary fix. You were there to soothe the pain and fulfill her need for affection, but you weren't the one she truly wanted.

The next morning, you found yourself at school, moving through the halls with heavy steps, lack of sleep and with that same old sense of anticipation mixed with dread.

You kept checking your phone, hoping for a message from Tara—a simple acknowledgment of what you shared the night before, anything to suggest that she felt something more.

But the screen remained dark, and with each passing hour, the silence grew louder, echoing the realization that you were still just a momentary distraction in her life.

During a break between classes, you walked through the corridor, your mind preoccupied.

That's when you saw them.

Tara and Amber.

They stood by the lockers. Tara was laughing, her face lit with a joy you hadn't seen since the last time Amber had returned.

And then there was Amber, her arm casually slung around Tara, claiming her with the ease of someone who knew they were wanted.

As you walked past, Tara's eyes caught yours for the briefest of moments.

There was something in her expression—an almost imperceptible flicker of guilt or perhaps regret—but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

She looked away, her attention snapping back to Amber, who seemed completely unaware of the tension that had passed between you.

It stung. The way she could so easily disconnect from what had happened between you, the way she could just switch off her emotions and return to Amber as if nothing had changed.

You tried to push the feeling aside, to focus on your classes, but it lingered, a bitter reminder that, no matter how much you wanted things to be different, they never would be.

As the day wore on, you sent another text to Tara, hoping for some form of acknowledgment or a sign that things might be different.

When school ended and you headed home, the ache of being a second choice weighed on you.

The cycle was all too familiar: Tara's need for you when Amber wasn't available, and the emptiness that followed when Amber reappeared.

Each time you allowed yourself to hope for something more, you were met with the same cycle of anticipation and disappointment.

In the quiet of your room, you found yourself once again waiting for the next time Tara might reach out, even though you knew how it would end.

The hope that things might change felt increasingly fragile.

As night fell, the familiar loneliness crept in, settling in the pit of your stomach. You couldn't shake the memory of her touch, the way she had clung to you just hours before.

The emptiness of your room felt suffocating, amplifying the silence that had stretched on throughout the day.

You reached for your phone, staring at the screen, battling with yourself.

You knew you shouldn't reach out, knew it would only lead to more heartache. But the need for some kind of connection, any connection, gnawed at you. The words you wanted to say swirled in your mind—questions, reassurances, anything to pull her back toward you, even for just a moment.

Finally, you gave in, typing out something that almost seemed too desperate, even for you.

i don't want to bother you, but i just dont get why u can't answer.

Your thumb hovered over the send button, hesitating for a moment, knowing that sending it might only lead to more disappointment.

But the need for her to acknowledge you, even in the smallest way, was too strong to resist. You hit send, the message slipping into the void, joining the countless others that had been left unaddressed.

You scrolled to the last message you'd sent earlier.

i miss you. can we talk?

It still sat there, unanswered, just like so many others.

Then, the waiting began—each passing minute feeling like an eternity as you stared at your phone, hoping for the familiar buzz that would signal a reply.

The hope that she might respond, that things might be different this time, felt fragile, like it could shatter at any moment. But still, you clung to it, knowing that even the smallest sign from her would be enough to keep you holding on.

A few hours later, just as you were beginning to lose hope, your phone buzzed in your hand.

Your heart leapt, but the anticipation quickly turned to dread as you read Tara's reply.

tara <3 (11:49pm)

can you stop? i don't want to do this anymore. i don't want anything to do with you.

You stared at Tara's message, trying to process the harshness of her words.

They were unlike anything she had sent before—usually, it was as simple as her saying she wasnt ready for a relationship, or an apologetic excuse.

But tonight, her response was stark and final, a sharp difference to the usual uncertainty.

The weight of her words settled heavily, and the familiar ache of being a backup choice intensified.

You had been through this cycle countless times: waiting for her, hoping for something more, only to be pushed aside when Amber reappeared.

But this time, something felt different—more definitive, more cutting.

The message wasn't just a dismissal; it felt like a cold rejection, an end to the hope you'd been clinging to.

It stung, more than you wanted to admit, especially because it was a departure from her usual way of handling things.

This wasn't about being unsure or wanting space—it was a clear, unambiguous statement that she didn't want you in her life, at least not right now.

You were tired of the endless cycle, the emotional rollercoaster that left you waiting for her next move, only to be met with the same predictable outcome.

The frustration and hurt mingled with a reluctant clarity. It was time to accept that this wasn't going to change, that hoping for more only led to deeper disappointment.

As you set your phone down, the finality of her words clung to you.

It was a painful realization, but perhaps it was a necessary one.

The time had come to stop being her second choice, to stop waiting for a sign that things might be different.

The message was a harsh reminder that you deserved more than the fragments of attention she had been offering.

____

The following days passed quietly.

Tara didn't reach out—not a single message, not even a glance in the hallways at school.

The silence was new, unsettling in its finality, but surprisingly, you found yourself adjusting quicker than you expected.

Maybe it was because you had set your mind to it, determined to break the cycle that had kept you stuck for so long.

You stayed busy, filling the spaces where your thoughts might have wandered back to her.

It wasn't easy, but it felt different this time—like there was a real shift in the way you handled it. Each day that passed without hearing from her was a small victory, proof that you could move forward, even if it still hurt.

But what struck you the most was the time. It had never passed this long without Tara reaching out to you.

In the past, the silence might last a day or two at most, and then you'd see her name on your phone, pulling you back into the familiar rhythm. But now, the days stretched on, and with each one, the possibility of her return seemed to slip further away.

You couldn't help but wonder if Amber had finally come around, realized her own behavior, and decided to commit to Tara in the way she had always craved.

Maybe that's why Tara hadn't reached out—because this time, Amber wasn't pushing her away. Maybe this time, Amber was staying.

You thought this was the end.

Maybe in a way, you even wanted it to be over.

The endless cycle of being Tara's second choice had drained you, and a clean break, painful as it was, seemed like the only way to move forward. If Amber had finally come through for Tara, then maybe you could let go for good.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

It was late on a Saturday night when your phone buzzed again. At first, you didn't even check it—assuming it was just a notification, something unimportant. But then, another buzz, and the vibration against your nightstand was impossible to ignore.

You glanced over, already knowing who it was before you even saw the name.

Tara.

The message sat there, glowing up from the screen in the dark of your room, cutting through the false sense of peace you'd managed to create. For a moment, you didn't want to open it. You didn't want to see what she had to say, because you knew where it would lead. It was never simple with Tara—it was always a pull, always a need that brought you back, even when you knew better.

But your fingers moved anyway, unlocking the phone and opening the message.

tara (2:03am)

are u awake?

Three simple words, but they were enough to unravel everything.

Enough to remind you that maybe you weren't as far gone from her grasp as you had hoped.

You didn't need to ask. You could already guess the situation.

Amber was probably at some party again, the kind where Tara was never invited, where Amber went alone and never bothered to check if Tara wanted to come along.

You could picture it perfectly—Amber's social media lighting up with photos and stories, flashing images of her having the time of her life, surrounded by people, as if Tara didn't exist.

Tara had always hated that. You knew the jealousy had probably started to build, slowly at first, until it reached a point where Tara couldn't take it anymore, and now she was turning to you.

Again.

It was always the same. Amber made her feel small, invisible, and then Tara reached out to you, seeking comfort and reassurance.

And you'd always been there—like a lifeline she could tug on when the weight of Amber's indifference got too heavy. But this time, something in you snapped. You were tired. Tired of being the backup plan, tired of picking up the pieces whenever Amber shattered her.

You didn't want to do it anymore.

Not this time.

The routine had become suffocating, a weight pressing down on your chest, and every time you gave in, it only added to the ache.

You could feel the familiar pull of her message, but instead of giving in, there was a resistance in you, stronger than before.

This wasn't your mess to clean up anymore. You were tired of being the person Tara came to when things didn't go her way with Amber. Tired of being her second choice, the one she used when her first option failed her.

Your heart sank as you stared at her message, knowing what she wanted, what she was asking for without even having to say it. And for the first time, you realized that you didn't have the energy to give her what she wanted. You didn't have it in you to be that person for her anymore.

You didn't answer.

For the first time, you just let the message sit there, ignored. You couldn't bring yourself to respond. Not this time.

Your phone buzzed again, and then again, as Tara's messages came through in rapid succession, each one more desperate than the last.

i'm sorry.

i didn't mean what i said.

please, i'm so sorry.

i do want you. i swear, i do.

The notifications kept lighting up your screen, each one tugging at that old part of you, the part that always responded, always showed up when she needed you.

But you didn't open them. Not tonight. You stared at her words, feeling a familiar ache in your chest, but this time it was mixed with something else—resolve. You knew what this was. You knew it was the same cycle playing out all over again, and you were tired of it.

She kept sending more messages, fragments of apologies, excuses, trying to pull you back in.

please talk to me.

i miss u.

please don't ignore me

i need you.

But you couldn't do it. Not anymore. You let the phone buzz, let her words pile up without an answer, because this time, you weren't going to be the one who gave in.

The ache in your chest tightened, but this time it wasn't enough. You weren't going to be pulled back into the same pattern. Not again.

You felt your thumb hover over the screen, hesitating for only a moment before tapping to block her number. It wasn't easy, but it felt like the only thing left to do.

The silence that followed was deafening, the buzzing of your phone replaced with an emptiness that was almost worse. Almost.

But there was also a strange sense of relief. It wasn't the closure you wanted, but it was the closure you needed. For the first time, you chose yourself. You chose to let go.

And as the night stretched on, you found a quiet peace in the stillness, knowing that this time;

you wouldn't be waiting for her anymore.

[ajortga]

worth it

pairing: samantha carpenter x fem reader

word count: 430 (drabble!)

summary: you try to convince your unconvinced girlfriend to have a little fun on christmas day.

authors note: merry christmas to anyone who celebrates :)

-

“Come on, Sam. Just this once?” You plead, balling up a clump of snow in your hand as you pretend to hit it at her.

It’s been taking the whole afternoon on Christmas day for you to convince her to hit you with a snowball. You had really thought she would cave in by the time your twentieth snowball hit her. She just wouldn’t budge!

“No, Y/N, I don’t want to hurt you right before going out with family. How will I explain that my girlfriend’s injured because I smacked a snowball at her?”

All she earned was a groan; a long one. “That’s the point! Come on, baby! I’m getting cold, and hungry!”

Sam’s brushing the snow off her hair, “Then let’s get inside! You know I’m not going to cave in.” Oh she just might.

“I won’t get hurt! You’re in control and I totally trust that you won’t kill me.”

Your girlfriend rolls her eyes, “Well I always throw too hard. Remember when I tried throwing Tara’s stuffed animal instead of handing it to her and she ended up on the floor?”

“Okay, well, that was because that stuffed animal was giant and was hard as a rock!”

You looked cute. Your breath fogging up in the cold winter air with at least 3 scarfs tied around your neck. (That Sam had forced upon you, not wanting you to freeze.)

Sam sighs, picking a piece of snow up with her mittens as she rolls it up. It was soft and easy to shape, making her gather more. 

You smile at her back, happily that your girlfriend can let you live the moment. 

That is until she turns around with a big snowball. Shit, that was really big. You forgot she was much bigger and taller than you.

She charges up, launching it at you as you squeal and try running away. You hear Sam curse out as your hit in the head and fall to the floor.

-

“So, Y/N, what happened to your head?” Your mother asks, looking at the particularly noticeable red bump on your head with concern.

You look around cluelessly as Sam gives your mother a wide, frightened smile as she covers your head with her hands. You could tell she felt really bad about it and needed to admit what she did to your family. She was freaking out and trying to make it up with cuddles. Instead you had told them you had hit your head on the kitchen counter.

“It was totally worth it,” Sam hears you whisper, hugging her.

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 4 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

Present

Billy Loomis is Sam’s real dad. . .

Tara’s words and her recount of her conversation with Sam makes all the puzzle pieces fall into place.

That’s why Sam snuck into my room all those years ago. That’s why she changed so much after, and that’s why she left.

It all makes sense now, but it doesn’t change the fact that she hurt Tara by leaving, hurt me by leaving. It also doesn’t change the fact that she wasn’t there for me when I needed her to most. When I begged her to come back and she just screamed at me to stop calling without even letting me explain why I was calling in the first place.

I’m feeling so many things right now, it’s kind of overwhelming, but I try my best to stay calm so I don’t freak Tara out.

She’s been moved to a private floor since Sam left and slept earlier while I called Liam and Paige again. Now, she’s awake once more, curled into my side while we’re watching a movie together.

I really try to focus on what’s going on, but my mind keeps drifting back to Sam.

She could have talked to me! She could have told me about her real dad. Why didn’t she? Did she think I was going to hate her for it? Did she think I would stop being her friend if I knew?

I wouldn’t have done any of that. Who her father is doesn’t change who she is. At least that’s my opinion. She must think otherwise, because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t have left.

I’m mad at her for abandoning Tara and leaving me. I’m sad she felt like she couldn’t talk to me, and I’m heartbroken thinking about how she tried to numb her pain by doing every drug imaginable and sleeping with anyone who would have her.

I still love her, that’s for sure because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be feeling like this, but I’m just not sure love is enough for me to forgive and forget everything she’s done.

“Hey.” Tara’s voice and her finger poking my chin snaps me out of my thoughts.

I clear my throat quietly and look down at her. “Yeah?”

“You okay?” she asks, her kind brown eyes darting between my own.

“No, not really, Sprout.” Tara wrinkles her nose and I chuckle. She’s never liked that nickname. “But I will be, and so will you.“

“You sure?” she asks and I nod.

“I’m sure. Now watch the movie, or I’m changing it,” I tease, making her laugh softly.

“Okay, okay. . .” She looks me over one last time before turning her attention back to the movie, mumbling, “You’re so annoying.”

I just hum and scratch her head, settling deeper into the bed and actually focusing on the movie. Thoughts of Sam are still swirling around in the back of my mind, but I ignore them as best as I can.

About half an hour later, the movie is still playing and, much to my surprise, I’m actually invested in the story now.

Some shuffling and a grunt in the hallway outside makes me look away from the TV though. We’re on a private floor and no one but Deputy Vinson should be here. A nurse comes in every two hours or so to check on Tara, but she was just here before we started the movie.

Alarm bells almost instantly go off in the back of my head, but I don’t want to scare Tara, so I stay calm and shout, “Hello?”

There’s no answer.

“Vinson?”

Again, nothing.

My stomach drops. This is not good. This is not good, at all.

“Y/N?” Tara whispers fearfully, the beeping sound of her heart rate monitor next to the bed speeding up.

I swallow thickly and continue to stare at the open doorway, straining my ears to hear anything else. It stays quiet though, and with every second that passes, the uneasiness in the pit of my stomach grows.

“Y/N,” Tara whimpers and when our eyes meet I see the fear I’m feeling inside reflected back at me.

He’s back. It’s Ghostface. It has to be him. He’s returned to finish the job.

I can feel my own heart rate picking up speed, and after another beat of silence, I decide that we have to leave. We’re sitting ducks if we stay.

“Fuck this.” I swallow again and nod to myself before pushing the blanket to the bottom of the bed. “We’re leaving, Sprout.”

Tara’s eyes widen and she doesn’t protest when I disconnect the IV from the back of her hand. For a moment, she’s frozen, watching me disconnect her from all the machines she’s attached to, before springing into action herself.

With shaking hands, she removes the oxygen tube while I get up and pull the nearby wheelchair to the side of the bed.

I won’t be able to do anything with only one arm, so even though it hurts and I know I’m probably going to tear my stitches, I take off my sling.

I wince at the stinging pain that shoots through my neck and arm, but grit my teeth and help Tara with the rest of the wires. Then I make sure the wheelchair’s breaks are on before turning back to the bed.

“We have to get moving, c’mon. I know this is going to hurt, but we have to go,” I say, slipping my arms under Tara’s knees and under her back. I don’t lift her yet though, waiting for her to nod before hoisting her up.

The gasp she lets out makes me hurt for her, but I can’t stop now.

We have to leave.

Carefully, I lift her out of the bed and place her in the wheelchair, making sure I don’t bump her broken leg against anything.

My shoulder protests, screaming in pain even though Tara is easy to lift, but I don’t stop moving especially when the lights suddenly go out.

We have to leave, now!

Tara whimpers in fear and in pain, and I rush to turn off the breaks on the wheelchair before pushing her to the doorway.

He’s here. I know it.

I peek into the ominously dark hallway all while trying not to let panic take over my mind.

Fear is healthy, panic is deadly.

That’s what my father taught me, and I know if we’re going to get out of this alive, I have to keep a clear head.

The hallway is empty, and the only way out is by getting to the elevator at the end of the hallway, so I slowly push Tara out of the room, keeping my eyes and ears open for any movement near by.

Just get to the elevator.

The deafening sound of Tara’s phone ringing on the bedside table back in her room makes both of us jump for a moment.

Tara sobs quietly, and I tighten my grip on the wheelchair.

I glance over my shoulder, seeing the screen of the phone light up the room before turning back around. There’s no time to get it now, and even less time to answer it.

I push Tara into the hallway, slowly and quietly while letting my eyes dart around in the darkness for any sign of danger.

It still eerily quiet though and I don’t see anything, so I continue pushing her until we get to the nurses’ station.

That’s where a chocked gasp claws it’s way out of Tara and when I follow her line of sight, I freeze for a second.

Laying right there on his back on the ground, with a slit throat and a pool of blood around his head is one of the deputies Sheriff Hicks assigned to Tara’s floor. He’s still alive, even though only barely, and chokes on his own blood, his wide eyes staring unblinkingly at the ceiling.

There’s nothing we can do to help him, he’ll be dead within a minute, but still, the sight of him, so helpless and alone, makes the blood in my veins freeze.

That could be me, or worse, Tara.

Stop! Don’t think about that, Y/N. Focus.

My dad’s voice rings in my head and makes me snap out of it. He’s right, I have to focus.

I’m about to continue pushing Tara towards the elevator, but then a thought strikes me.

I pause and look around again before letting go of the wheelchair and crouching down next to the deputy. I reach for his belt, fumbling around until my hand grazes the holster of his gun.

With a gun, we’d at least stand a change against Ghostface, but as fate would have it, the holster is empty. The gun is gone.

Fuck.

Not only does that mean that we have nothing to defend ourselves with, it also means that Ghostface has the gun.

Tara sobs into her hands and watches me get back up, only to flinch and freeze a second later when we hear a door being opened somewhere down the hall.

There’s no time to ponder over the gun and its whereabouts now. I spin around and take a hold of the wheelchair again.

Getting to the elevator now is too risky. It’s too far away, so I wheel Tara into the room right next to the nurses’ station.

We need help.

Tara whimpers and cries quietly while I close the door behind us. I don’t shut it all the way, just enough to hide us from plain sight while still being able to see what’s going on outside. Then, I fumble around for my phone in my sweatpants.

Just like with the gun though, I come up empty, and the realization that it must have slipped out of my pocket while watching the movie makes my heart drop.

No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.

My hands begin shaking, and it’s getting harder to keep my panic at bay.

We’re alone with a psychopathic killer, we have no way out, no help is coming, and I’m not in any shape to fight properly.

Tears well up in my eyes and I feel my bottom lip quivering. There’s no way out.

My heart starts pounding in my ears and my hands start shaking.

Please, no. Not now.

I’ve had enough panic attacks after my parents death to know what it feels like when one is about to start, and even though it sucks having them at any time, it would be especially inconvenient right now.

I force myself to calm my breaths and blink away the tears, but it doesn’t help much.

We’re trapped.

We’re alone.

I continue to focus on steadying my breathing while also keeping an ear out for any more sounds in the hallway.

That is until Tara nudges me. I clench and unclench my fists, and look at her. She has tears streaming down her face, but she’s urgently gesturing at something she can’t reach.

I follow the length of her arm with my eyes and almost start crying with relief when I spot the phone on the wall right next to the door.

I lunge for it and start dialing 911 with shaking hands only to stop a moment later when another door opens out in the hallway.

Tara clutches the back of my sweater with her uninjured hand and bites her bottom lip to prevent any more sobs from escaping her.

I flinch when another door gets opened, this time closer by, and hold my breath.

This is it. He’s here.

I lower the phone and square my shoulders, ready to fight when the door to our room suddenly swings open.

Tara yelps and I instinctively punch whoever just walked in.

“Ow!” Richie stumbles back against the doorframe and raises a hand to where my fist just connected with his jaw. “Ah, goddamn it!”

“Richie?” Tara’s pulls on the back of my sweater to get me to step out of her line of sight while I simply stare at Richie in disbelief.

I’m honestly relieved it’s just him, and that he’s here because now we’re no longer alone, but I can’t find it in myself to feel sorry for punching him.

“What are you doing here?” Tara asks as Richie continues to recover from the punch.

“Sam called,” he explains and as he continues to talk, I feel some of the tension in my body dissipate. “She said that you were in trouble.”

He doesn’t look at me when he says it, and the revelation that Sam probably only called about Tara is like a blow to the stomach.

I don’t get much time to dwell on it though because a split second later, Ghosface appears behind Richie, ready to strike with a knife in his hand.

“Look out!” I shout, stepping in front of Tara again.

Richie spins just in time to avoid getting stabbed, but the knife manages to cut his forearm. Ghostface goes in for another stab, but Richie manages to catch his wrist before he can bring the knife down on him.

He grunts and they struggle for a moment, but then Ghostface manages to grab the back of Richies head and slam him into the door frame, knocking him out.

“Shit!” I clench my jaw when Ghostface turns his attention to Tara and me, and quickly grab the IV stand next to us, flinging it at him.

Ghostface goes down because the monitor on the IV stand hits him in the head, and I rush to wheel Tara out of the room.

We’re almost back in the hallway, away from Ghostface, when he suddenly lands a punch on the back of my left knee, making my leg buckle. I stumble and manage to regain my footing without going down, but that little trip costs me a lot of precious seconds.

“Y/N!” Tara twists around in the wheelchair with wide eyes and even though I know Ghostface is now back on his feet and right behind me, it still catches me off guard when he wraps his arm around my neck from behind and punches me in the side, right below my ribs.

“Ah, fuck!” I grunt and grab his forearm, trying to pry it away from my neck, but it doesn’t budge. “Go, Tara!”

Another blow, this time to my ribs, takes my breath away, and even though I’m in pain, it fills me with an unexplainable rage.

Instead of trying to get his arm away from my neck again, I dig my heels into the ground and push backward until we hit a wall. Ghostface hisses in pain and I use the momentary distraction to get out of the headlock.

Then, I run to Tara, limping slightly and ignoring the sound of a phone ringing nearby. She’s crying and struggling to move in the wheelchair, and the sight of the blood soaked bandage around her hand makes my stomach clench.

I’m about to reach her, my arms already outstretched to grab onto the wheelchair, but then I’m tackled to the ground from behind.

My head hits the floor, making black dots dance in my vision for a moment and then my head is yanked up by my hair.

“Hold it right there, Tara,” Ghostface says, the voice changer eerily distorting his voice, “or I’ll slit Y/N’s throat.”

Tara freezes and wheels around in time to see Ghostface press the blade of his knife against my neck. He’s kneeling on my back and I know I have no way of escaping without getting my throat slit.

It stings when he pushes the knife down a little too hard, drawing some blood in the process, but I don’t dare to move.

“Y/N!” Tara cries and I try not to cough because of the weight on my back. “No, please don’t.“

“Tara, go!” I rasp, feeling the edge of the knife dig even deeper into the skin of my neck.

Tara shakes he head desperately, tears rolling down her cheeks. “No, Y/N, I—“

“Do you hear that, Sam?” Ghostface says and at the mention of Sam’s name my heart drops. He must be on the phone with her. “Your little sister and Y/N, begging for each other’s lives. Pathetic, don’t you think?”

Tara makes a move to wheel closer, but I pin her down with a stare to stop her. Go, I mouth, but Tara doesn’t move while Ghostface continues talking to Sam.

I can’t hear everything he’s saying because my ears are ringing, but when he suddenly gets off my back and approaches Tara with calculated steps, I hear him say, “So, the choice is up to you. Who is it going to be, Sam? Richie, Y/N, or Tara?”

Tara whimpers as Ghostface gets nearer, but she’s too injured to get away. She manages to turn the wheelchair around, but Ghostface is right there before she can even attempt to get away.

He grabs the handles of the chair and tips it forward forcefully, making Tara fall and land on the ground with a cry of pain.

No, not her. Not Tara. Please, anyone but her. She’s been through enough.

“Stop!” I groan, trying to get up, but slipping on something sticky on the floor. My shoulder stings and the side where Ghostface punched me burns, but I try to get back up again, and this time, I manage. On unsteady feet, I limp toward Ghostface who’s now standing over Tara.

He twirls the knife in his hand and raises his arm, getting ready to strike while Tara sobs.

“No!” I’m not going to make it. “Tara!”

Just then, the elevator dings and the doors open. Ghostface looks up, surprised, and dives out of the way when gunshots ring out.

My eyes widen at the sight of Sam and Dewey?! who dart out of the elevator.

“Tara!” Sam rushes to her sister’s side and drops to her knees, trying to help her to her feet.

“I’ll get Richie,” Dewey says, but then he freezes when his eyes land on me. “Y/N?! What are you doing here? Are you hurt?”

I wave him off and shake my head, looking around to see where Ghostface went. “Not now, I’m fine. Go get Richie, I’ll help Sam with Tara.”

“Okay.” Dewey nods and stares at me a moment longer before dashing past me to help Richie.

The last time we saw each other was at my parents’ funeral. He used to be like an uncle to me because he was friends with my dad, but after the accident, we kind of drifted apart.

Now is no time to dwell on the past though. I push through my dizziness and the pain in my side, shoulder and leg, and limp the rest of the way to Tara and Sam.

Sam’s already managed to get a crying and whimpering Tara to her feet, but Tara can’t walk with her broken leg, so as soon as I’m within reach I tug on Sam’s jacket to get her to stop dragging Tara to the elevator.

“Stop, let me help.”

Sam’s eyes widen. “Y/N, y-you’re here?”

“Of course, I’m here,” I snap, not because I’m mad but because there’s no time to talk. “Now, let’s get a move on!”

Still in disbelief, Sam doesn’t say anything else as I scoop Tara up into my arms.

“Ow,” she whines and I quickly apologize for hurting her.

I limp to the elevator with Sam hot on my heels and lean against the wall as soon as we’re inside. My legs are shaking and my entire body hurts, but I’m not letting go of Tara until we’re safe.

Sam holds the doors open while Richie and Dewey make their way to the elevator.

They’ve almost made it when, out of nowhere, Ghostface comes back, crashing into them from the side. Richie falls to the ground, and Dewey gets pushed against the wall which makes him fire his gun.

A struggle ensues between Dewey and Ghostface while Richie tries to get back up, and for a moment it looks as though Ghostface’s got the upper hand, but then Dewey headbutts him.

Ghostface stumbles back and Dewey grabs his gun off the ground, firing it at Ghostface before he can come at him again.

He stumbles back at the force of the shots hitting him in the chest until he crashes into the glass display cabinet on the opposite wall.

He sinks to the ground and stops moving, and even though I’m not convinced he’s dead, there’s no time to make sure he is. We have to get out of here as fast as possible.

Dewey must think so too because he gets to his feet and immediately pulls Richie up as well.

“Let’s get out of here,” he grunts, dragging Richie toward the elevator. “Come on, hurry up.”

They finally make it, and Richie slumps against the wall next to Sam who runs her hands over him and checks for any not-so obvious injuries.

“You okay?” she asks, her voice laced with worry.

Richie nods and exhales shakily. “Yeah, you?”

Sam nods. “Fine.” Then she turns her attention back to Tara who’s got her arms wrapped around my neck and is crying into my shoulder.

“It hurts, Sam,” she cries, and I press a kiss to her forehead while Sam takes a hold of her hand.

Dewey pushes the elevator button for the first floor, but before the doors can slide shut, he stops them with his hand and says, “The head. . .”

Richie frowns. “What?”

“You have to shoot ‘em in the head or they always come back,” Dewey explains, stepping back out of the elevator.

Sam gapes at him and asks exactly what I’m thinking. “Dewey, who gives a fuck?”

A forlorn look enters his eyes and as the doors slide shut, he says, “I do.”

“No! Dewey!” I try to step forward to stop him, but as soon as I shift my weight off the wall, my legs start trembling, so I slump back and grit my teeth.

It’s too late.

The doors close and the elevator starts descending. A tense silence settles over us for the duration of the ride, but then the doors open and Richie stumbles out first, shouting for help.

Doctors and nurses swarm us almost instantly and within seconds, a gurney is brought over and I place Tara on it.

She’s okay.

Seeing her being taken care of lifts a huge weight off my shoulders and the relief on Sam’s face makes me smile a little.

She’s going to be okay.

The dizziness I felt before suddenly returns full force now that the adrenaline is wearing off, but I can’t sit down and rest until Dewey is safe, too.

He’s up there all alone. Someone has to help him.

I stumble back to the elevator but a hand on my stomach stops me from entering it.

I look down, swaying slightly, before following the arm connect to the hand all the way up with my eyes until they land on Sam’s face.

Wait. . . Sam?

“Where are you going, Y/N?” she asks, frowning.

I blink to get rid of the irritating black dots growing in my vision and try to push past her. “D-Dewey, he needs—he needs help, Sam.”

“I know,” she says, stopping me again by grabbing a fistful of my sweater. “But you can’t go up there. The police are already on their way.”

“But. . . But Dewey,” I slur. I grasp at Sam’s hand to get her to let go of me which, much to my surprise, she actually does.

It doesn’t last long though because not even a second later my knees buckle and I fall forward, right into her arms.

“Y/N? Y/N!” Sam panics and grabs onto anything she can to stop both of us from toppling to the ground. “Oh my God, you’re hurt.”

I awkwardly slide down her body, bringing her down with me until we’re both on the floor and I’m gasping for air.

“Y/N, hey. . . Hey!” Sam grunts and manages to scramble out from underneath me before propping me up against the wall next to us. “Look at me. What’s wrong? What hurts?” she asks, but I can’t answer. My lungs suddenly feel like they’re on fire and every breath I take makes it harder to breathe.

“What happened? Did Ghostface—“ She falls silent when her eyes land on her hands and when I look down, I see why.

They’re covered in blood. My blood. But. . . how?

I think about everything that happened, and then dread settles in the pit of my stomach when the realization hits.

Ghostface wasn’t punching me. When he “hit” me all those times, he wasn’t punching me. He wasn’t punching me at all. He was stabbing me.

Welp, that explains why my side hurts so much. I thought I was going soft.

My eyes flutter shut and I cough, tasting blood in my mouth.

I guess no one noticed I was hurt until now because I didn’t feel anything until the adrenaline wore off and the blood soaking my clothes wasn’t visible because both my sweater and my sweatpants are black.

“Y/N, hey! Don’t you dare close your eyes.” Sam cups my cheeks and shakes my head slightly to get me to open my eyes again. “We need some help over here!” she shouts over her shoulder before looking back at me.

She’s frantic, more frantic than I’ve ever seen her, and her eyes are filling with tears. Her hands drop off my face and she’s quick to push my sweater up to take in the extent of my injuries.

“Oh my God.” Her voice cracks and when she presses her hands against my side to slow the bleeding, I cry out in pain.

I gasp like a fish out of water, still struggling to get enough air into my lungs, and push at her hands.

“No, stop— Stop!” she protests, desperately pressing her hands against my side again.

“Hurts,” I wheeze and Sam nods frantically with tears dripping down her cheeks.

“I know, I know,” she says, “but I’m trying to help.”

I writhe in agony, but don’t try to push her off again. I don’t think I even could if I tried because with every passing moment I feel weaker.

My eyes are also threatening to close again and when Sam notices, she presses down harder on my side and shouts for help again.

This time, a nearby nurse notices and she springs into action. She rushes over, dragging a doctor with her and tells another nurse to bring a gurney.

I don’t focus on her though. No, I keep my attention on Sam and how she’s desperately try to stop my bleeding.

She’s crying, covered in blood, and on the verge of hyperventilating, but she’s still beautiful.

So beautiful. . .

I cough again just as the nurse and doctor drop down next to me, and when Sam takes her hands away so they can examine me, I give into the urge to close my eyes.

_______________________________________________

Whew! I wrote this in one sitting, and only proofread it once, so please excuse any mistakes I may have made/overlooked.

Tag list: @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @bella423

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |3|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Fighting, Stabbing, Attempted Murder

Word Count: 2.6k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Sam tossed and turned in her bed. She had been trying to fall asleep since she got back from her therapy session. She sat up in her bed, running a hand through her hair. She glanced out the window, watching the raindrops slide down the glass. A light rain had started right after she got home, it just now seemed to be stopping a couple hours later.

She slid out of bed, stretching her arms and legs. She walked over to the window and checked that it was locked, even though she had done so before she got into bed, just like she did every night. She pushed off the windowsill and made her way out of her room. She didn’t hear any talking or the TV playing, which told her everyone else had finally gone to sleep.

She passed Tara’s room first, making sure to stop and check on her sister. She gently opened the door, making sure to go slow enough that it wouldn’t creak. Tara always rolled her eyes when she caught Sam checking in on her, but unless they were in the middle of arguing Tara didn’t seem to say anything about it, Sam thought Tara might have actually appreciated this part of her overprotectiveness. When Sam peeked her head around the door, she saw Tara sprawled out on her bed, peacefully sleeping, one of her arms was half hanging off the bed. Sam couldn’t help but smile at the sight, she was glad her sister could still sleep even with the potential of Ghostface out there again.

Sam gently closed the door as she stepped back into the hall. She hated the door being closed but it was the one thing she compromised on with Tara. She knew if she made Tara keep her door open all the time, she would be crossing the line, and her paranoia would truly be taking over their lives.

As she crossed through the kitchen she peeked her head into the living room. Chad was clutching half his blanket tight against his chest as he was reclined back in the recliner. He occasionally shifted, adjusting himself in the chair and gripping the blanket tighter. Sam shook her head at the sight, somethings never changed, Chad used to do the exact same thing when Sam would babysit him, and he’d pass out on the couch or chair while everyone watched a movie.

Sam silently chuckled at the sight of Mindy and Anika sprawled out on the couch. Anika was cuddled into Mindy’s side, her arms wrapped around Mindy’s waist. Mindy had her right arm wrapped around Anika, holding her close, while her other arm was stretched across the couch, hanging off the side, and her head was thrown back, her mouth half opened as she not so quietly snored.

Sam moved back into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator only to see it bare. It had been a second since they had done any grocery shopping and with the twins constantly coming over, they were running out of food much quicker than they’d normally would. She let the door gently close and when she was glancing around the kitchen her eyes landed on the pizza box still sitting on the dining table. She shrugged and flipped open the lid, seeing exactly one slice left. She quietly laughed to herself, it was better than she was expecting if she was being honest, with Chad around there was hardly ever leftovers. She grabbed the slice and took a bite, enjoying the taste of cold pizza.

Once she finished her pizza she paced back and forth a bit, trying to calm her mind. She hadn’t stopped thinking about Ghostface possibly being out there, about what detective Bailey said about the two students that were killed. If they were planning on trying to kill her and Tara but they died instead, that meant someone really wanted to kill them their self. Sam wasn’t sure who she could have possible pissed off enough to want to murder her. Then she remembered she didn’t have to do anything, her existence was enough to make her ex want to pretend to fall in love with her and then try and kill her, all because her dad was Billy Loomis.

Sam ran a hand through her hair, she tried to shake off the excess energy she had from all the anxiety. “Fuck it,” she whispered. She didn’t think as she grabbed her gym bag and filled her water bottle.

She made sure to scribble a note in case Tara or any of the others woke up. She did a quick once over of the apartment before walking out the door, her gym back slung over her shoulder. She triple checked the locks before she made her way down the stairs. She knew it was stupid to go off on her own, in the middle of the night no less, but there was only one thing that she knew for sure calmed her. Working out in the middle of the night always seemed to help her de-stress more than anything. She kept telling herself she would only be gone an hour as she began the walk to the gym.

Sam looked both ways as she crossed the parking lot, it was three in the morning and there was no one in sight. Sam still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, she wanted to right it off as her paranoia getting to her, but she couldn’t help but wonder if Ghostface was truly back. She kept replaying checking on Tara and the twins and locking the apartment in her mind. They were all together, they were all safe, she locked the door, she triple checked that it was locked, but she wasn’t there. If anything happened, she wasn’t there.

She knew she shouldn’t have left them home alone, especially not with Ghostface most likely back but she needed to calm her nerves. She couldn’t stand being in that apartment and not moving. She just kept telling herself that Ghostface usually has a plan and Sam highly doubted that plan involved attacking everyone at the apartment when Sam wasn’t there, that didn’t seem like Ghostface.

Sam swiped her card and waited to hear the little buzz before flinging the door open. As soon as she stepped into the entryway the lights started to kick on. Sam wasn’t sure if they were emergency lights or what but after regular gym hours only a few lights turned on and it was always when the person was in that area of the gym.

Sam looked around the room, besides where she was standing the only lights that were on were the ones that were always on around the perimeter of the room. Even though she didn’t see any cars in the parking lot she knew that didn’t necessarily mean the gym would be empty. She didn’t see any sign of life though. Even though being in an empty gym alone always put her on edge, she was happy for the alone time. She was sure if anyone else was in the gym at the moment she wouldn’t be able to take her eyes off them, assuming they were there to stalk and kill her.

Sam sighed as she walked over to the treadmills. She dropped her bag on the bench next to the treadmill and took out her water bottle. She plopped her water bottle into the cupholder on the machine and began changing the settings. She started slowly walking as the machine got going, popping her earbuds in before it got too fast. Just like before she started off with a light jog, she just needed to work out for an hour or so, exhaust herself enough so she could fall asleep.

She had just started to relax and lose herself in a song when she caught movement of a black cloak out of the side of her eyes. Sam jumped to the side, balancing herself on the right side of the treadmill just as a knife slashed against the controls of the machine. Sam’s eyes went wide as she stepped back off the machine, Ghostface stood before her, tilting his head back and forth as he held the knife at his side.

“Fuck,” she whispered. She knew this was a bad idea, she should have never left the apartment, she knew better than to go off on her own. Ghostface being here at least meant Tara and the others were most likely safe.

Sam walked backwards, weaving her way between the other workout machines. Her eyes never left Ghostface as she slowly followed, getting ever so close with each step. She knew it was only a matter of time before Ghostface ran at her, luckily the one thing she had on Ghostface was that she knew the gym like the back of her hand. Sometimes being paranoid paid off, she scoped out the layout of the gym, memorizing where everything was and where all the exits were the first day she ever stepped foot in the building.

Ghostface suddenly stopped in their tracks making Sam suck in a breath. She could practically see the smile behind the mask. She didn’t need to turn around to know exactly what was behind her. The far-right wall was all brick, lined with weights, the only places for Sam to go was either rush Ghostface and dodge his knife or take her chances by running to the right because on her left was more gym equipment and the windows to the front of the gym.

Sam continued to back up until her back bumped against the weight rack. She steeled her expression. Ghostface slowly stomped forward, his movements calculated but clearly not thinking she was a threat. Sam stared straight into the dark abyss that was the eyes of the mask, her hand felt around behind her until she finally gripped the handle of one of the weights.

As soon as Ghostface raised his knife Sam tightened her grip on the weight and swung it around with all her might. The weight smashed against Ghostface’s hand, sending the knife clattering to the floor. She didn’t hesitate to take off to the right, not bothering to go for the knife. She just needed to get away and get back to Tara.

Sam ran through the gym, the lights clicking on behind her as she passed under them, running too fast for most of them to catch up to her. She jumped over one of the benches but didn’t slow down. She slid when she made a sharp left turn, aiming for the front door.

Ghostface slid in front of her right, making her come to a hard stop before she crashed into him. He didn’t hesitate this time to slash his knife at her, making her lean back, watching as the blade just barely missed her.

Ghostface stalked forward, slashing his knife and making Sam back up once again. She clenched her jaw and glared at the mask figure; he was blocking the front door. She glanced to her left, seeing the glow of the red exit sign in the far corner. She had never gone out that way before, if the door opened it set off an alarm, but she knew it spilled out into an alley. She didn’t really want to end up in a dark alley in New York with Ghostface chasing her, but it seemed to be her best bet.

Sam made a dash for the door, but Ghostface jumped over one of the benches putting himself between her and the door again. She raised her arm when he swung his knife, slashing her forearm this time. Ghostface moved to slash her again, but she stepped back, tripping over a weight someone had left out.

She brought her other hand to her arm, trying to stop the bleeding as best as she could. She backed up until she hit the bench behind her. She could only watch as Ghostface stood tall above her. There was another flash of movement out of the corner of her eye, and something slammed into Ghostface, sending them stumbling back.

Sam couldn’t help the way her mouth fell open at seeing you standing tall, you were the only thing between Sam and Ghostface. Sam could only look up at you, you had seemingly come out of nowhere. She caught the light from the showers out of the corner of her eye, that must have been where you had come from, you had to have been at the gym before Sam ever got there.

You stepped forward, tilting your head as you looked at Ghostface. Your back was to her, but Sam couldn’t see any fear in the way you carried yourself. Ghostface stumbled backwards as you continued forward. Sam had never seen Ghostface intimidated by someone without any weapon.

Ghostface finally seemed to figure themselves out as they gripped the knife tighter and began slashing wildly at you. You leaned from side to side, effortlessly dodging each slash as if you had all the time in the world. You just kept moving forward, forcing Ghostface to walk back, getting further and further away from Sam.

Ghostface stabbed the knife at your right side, making you jump to the left to dodge it. He then stabbed at your other side, but you grabbed the punching bag and blocked the knife. As soon as Ghostface ripped the knife out of the punching bag sand began spilling out of it. You didn’t wait to shove the punching bag, making it smack right into Ghostface’s chest.

Ghostface nearly lost their footing, Sam was surprised the hit hadn’t sent them to the ground. They brought their free hand to their chest, definitely having the wind knocked out of them, they’d surely have a major bruise in the morning. Ghostface tried to shake off the hit though and swung his knife again.

You caught his wrist midair, giving it a hard twist, making him lose grip of the knife. You reached out with your other hand, catching the knife before it could hit the floor then released your attacker’s wrist. You spun the handle around in your hand before you began swinging it at Ghostface.

Each slash of the knife held power, each slash with the intent to kill. You didn’t hesitate to swing the knife; it was as if you had done this before. Sam was sure you could quickly close the distance and end Ghostface, but you were almost playing with him. Ghostface continued to scramble back until the back of their foot caught a mat and sent them to the ground.

You stood above Ghostface, tilting your head as you looked down at them. Sam held her breath as she waited to see what your next move would be. You flipped the knife in your hands, you looked quite comfortable with a knife, almost as if holding it were natural.

You raised the knife but before you could bring it down onto Ghostface another one came out of the shadows, stabbing you in the side. You collapsed to your knees, but you didn’t drop the knife, you swung your arm, slashing the second Ghostface on the leg. The second Ghostface didn’t attack again, they ran forward, helping the first one up and the two rushed out the exit, setting off the alarm.

You finally dropped the knife, falling back to the ground. Sam scrambled to you, pulling out her phone and dialing 911 as she kneeled down by your side. “It’s okay,” she whispered, pressing her hands to your wound. She tried to stop the bleeding as best as she could as she waited for help to arrive. She didn’t understand why you’d help, why you’d risk your safety for her.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19