#tara and sam
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writing-rat · 1 year ago
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Hold On (I still Need You)
Pairings: Sam Carpenter and Tara Carpenter, Sam Carpenter and Gale Weathers, Sam Carpenter and Sidney Prescott
Content Warning: Attempted Suicide, Self Harm, Angst with a happy ending, Hanging, Soft Sam Carpenter
Summary: Tara feels depressed so she does something about it. Little does Tara know that Sam would walk in...
WC: 1558
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Sam knew something was wrong immediately when she walked into the apartment she shared with Quinn and Tara. Quinn was away on a family trip with her dad and Tara was home. Except it was too quiet…
-
Sam was supposed to be away most of the day, leaving Tara to her own devices. There were promises of how Tara would be careful (little did Sam know what would happen), and to call her if something happened. 
It had been 4 hours after, 2 hours until Sam would come back. Tara had everything ready. She had the knife, the stool and the noose. Expertly tying it around her light, she ensured it wouldn’t fall. It took about an hour however to make sure but finally, she did it. She was on a time crunch now, however. Sam would be home in about an hour and Tara was starting to panic. She didn’t need Sam to see her trying, she’d rather not see her reaction.
She wanted to be with Amber again after all…
Breathing heavily, she grabbed the knife and looked at it, hesitating a little but she knew she had to. This was her only chance to do it. Eventually, she slit her wrists. They were deep. It was going to lead to blood loss, it was going as planned. She gripped the knife in her other hand, causing another cut that was just as deep. She finally stood on the stool, putting her head inside the hole. She could feel the blood dripping down her hands, even her fucked up hand. She smiled happily.
She was going to be free. ‘I’m free’ she thought as she kicked the stool away, closing her eyes in peace.
That was when the door opened, Tara opened her eyes again, wide-eyed. She heard Sam calling out but she was already unable to speak and she couldn’t get down. She was caught, and she was panicking, causing her to thrash quietly.
“Tara?” Sam called out, nervously grabbing her taser and knife, looking all around and being cautious. The first room she checked was Tara’s however the sight caused her to drop what she had. Tara was there, that was for sure. She was wide-eyed, staring at Sam, blood dripping down her arms. After a second or 2 Sam went into action. “Fuck fuck fuck,” she cursed as she was immediately getting her down, but she wouldn’t be able to stop the bleeding fully. It was too deep, she knew already. 
She took off her tank top anyway and put Tara’s wrists together, putting pressure on both with one hand, the phone shaking in her other hand as she was calling someone. “911, yes. My sister tried to kill herself, she’s bleeding badly, I got her down,” Sam panicked, Tara watching her. She looked pale, and there was nervousness in her eyes before she closed them. “No! Stay awake for me!” Sam begged, slapping her all over while screaming their address on the phone. She barely heard the operator say that there was help coming and to stay on the phone. Sam’s sobs continued throughout the phone call, time going slowly as the tank top became fully red. That’s when Sam grabbed the bedsheets, using them instead.
In about 5 minutes, paramedics were coming in, and Tara had a puddle of blood around her. “Samantha, your sister is in safe hands. Can you please move away?” one of them asked. Sam was reluctant to move but knew she had to. Tara was at risk now, the blood spreading into the carpet. 
“We’re gonna need a stretcher,” one demanded. That’s when one appeared, one that could be held as they would be running down the stairs after all. 
“We’re losing her,” another announced, stressed. Sam gasped, tears running down her face before she was taken out of the room by another paramedic. She would help Sam. 
“It’s ok, I’m safe. Breathe with me,” the woman said, looking at her and doing a breathing exercise. Soon enough Sam could breathe but she was still sobbing. “That’s good. Very good,” she spoke. She was about to say something when a male voice was heard.
“Clear!” the man spoke before electricity was heard. Immediately Sam went to see and the paramedic didn’t stop her, knowing it would be impossible. Tara was on the stretcher at least. 
They did it about 2 more times before they looked at each other. “There’s a pulse. We have to hurry to the hospital. Let’s go,” they spoke, soon rushing out while being careful with Tara, who had her eyes fully closed, and shallow breathing. 
“You can go into the ambulance as well, don’t worry,” the paramedic who helped her spoke. Sam nodded, rushing with them. She wouldn’t let her sister out of her sight anyway, especially when she was like this. She quickly sat down, holding her sister’s hand.
-
It had been hours since the incident and they were finally starting to stitch up the wounds. The doctors had wanted to make sure the bleeding had stopped before they started it and it finally did. Meanwhile, Sam was getting some of her blood taken for Tara as she had lost too much, so Sam offered her blood. She knew she was the same blood type as Tara and the medical sheets also proved it. She took a while to lay down after her blood was taken before she was pacing. 
This time she had people around her. Gale and Sidney. They arrived an hour previous due to Sam forgetting about their planned dinner that night. “She’s stable now, you came at a good time. If you hadn’t…” the doctor spoke. Sam’s heart dropped as she immediately walked into the room, thankful to see her baby sister was alright. That’s when she sat down, seeing how Gale and Sidney who were talked to the doctor. She held her sister’s hand gently wanting to know why she did it. For now, she decided to sleep, exhaustion seeping into her bones. She needed it also to not worry about her sister.
-
It took her about an hour before she woke up to a gentle nudge from her left side. Usually, she was aware of touch and was quick to reveal a knife, but not now. She just glanced over, her vision blurry. She just saw a red outfit. “Hey honey, me and Sid got you some food,” Gale spoke quietly, handing it over. It was a hand sandwich with a protein drink next to it. Sam nodded. “Thanks, mom,” she spoke quietly, starting to eat, staring at Tara. “They said she was on painkillers so she might be sleeping more, she is stable now though and she hasn’t taken pills,” Sidney explained, who was on Sam’s right side. Gale nodded to agree. Sam nodded, still feeling bad. She was meant to love and care for her sister after all and she hadn’t been able to today.
Soon enough Tara was waking up. She let out a groan, covering her eyes before she looked around blearily. “Sam? Gale? Sidney?” she asked, her voice croaky. Sam was quick to grab the water and put it to Tara’s lips. “Yes. It’s us, baby, how are you?” Sam asked, making sure Tara drank some water. 
“I feel like hell… I didn’t die did I?” Tara asked. Sam shook her head. “Thankfully not,” Gale responded. 
“Close though but now you will be constantly checked in on,” Sidney added. Tara groaned but stopped when she saw Sam’s broken look. That’s when Sam let out tears and hugged her sister. 
“Please talk to me when you feel like this… please! I want to know what’s going on and if I can help. Just please…” she practically begged out. Tara looked down, feeling guilty before she stared at Gale and Sidney. “Can you leave for a moment?” she asked weakly. Gale and Sidney looked at each other before they were nodding and left. That’s when Tara sighed once they were out the door. “I just… I felt weak after all the attacks. I thought you would be better off without me. I mean… you take care of me and work for me… I thought you would be better off and you could have more free time. I also miss Amber. She was my first lover and she’s left a huge hole in my heart. I just wish she was here,” Tara started, crying softly and starting to sob. That’s when Sam hugged her. 
“I always care for you, I wouldn’t be able to live without you. And we can talk about Amber if you want, hell we can go to a therapist. I can join you. I just want you to be ok! Please tell me, please,” she cried out as well. Tara nodded.
“I will, I promise Sam. I will. I will do anything to get better. Therapy, psych ward, whatever,” she promised, still crying. Sam knew it would take a long time to heal but this was a start.
She looked at Tara and hugged her. “I love you,” she spoke gently. 
“I love you too,” Tara responded, hugging her back as tight as she could, wincing in pain. She knew she would get better with her sister and her adopted moms by her side. She had to… for them.
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lovelyy-moonlight · 2 years ago
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thisonewhocanbreathe · 4 months ago
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“we need more complex female characters” the second women start showing a glimpse of emotion y’all call them over-sensitive or annoying. smh.
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halfmoonaria · 4 months ago
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unanswered
pairing: tara carpenter and reader
summary: you break the cycle of being the second choice.
wordcount: 3.1k
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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.
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pocfiction · 1 month ago
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SCREAM VI (2023) dir. Matt Bettinelli-Olpin & Tyler Gillett
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sturnsmadl · 4 months ago
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bf!matt headcannons!
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warnings!- swearing, angst (light ig), mostly fluff, some smut, not proof read, lover boy matt tbh, cuddling, kissing, idk what else :).
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bf!matt who loves holding hands.
bf!matt who is possessive at parties.
"who's that?"
"some drunk guy. thought i was his girl."
"right.."
kisses you
bf!matt who refuses to let you do anything.
"the laundry.."
"nuh uh. move."
bf!matt who ties your shoelaces for you.
"i can do it matt."
"so can i."
bf!matt who keeps his hands warm in your jeans back pocket.
bf!matt who loves physical touch.
bf!matt who always drags you on late night walks during fall.
"we went last nightt!!"
"babe. fall doesn't last forever."
bf!matt who wipe your tears and hugs you when your upset.
"shh..your okay.."
bf!matt who adores carrying you.
"matt i can walk."
"i knowww. but carrying you is fun."
bf!matt who gets you a cat.
"its for you!"
"is it..?"
"i mean...mainly me..but yeah.."
bf!matt who can't stop touching you.
"matt its too hot. let go."
"your too hot."
"fuck off matt."
laughs
bf!matt who isn't massive on PDA but will do small touches.
bf!matt who loves hooking up in his car.
"fuck...yes baby.."
"matt! yes..fuck! yes!"
bf!matt who gets hard from you just sitting in his lap.
bf!matt who is definite that you're the mother of his children.
"we all have that phase matt."
"its not a phase. she's gonna be the mother of my kids chris."
"okay buddy.."
bf!matt who buys you a lot of makeup.
bf!matt who loves giving you hugs and cuddling.
"hi baby."
"oh hi. your back early huh?"
"yep..cuddles?"
bf!matt who made you your own drawer in his room.
bf!matt who always wants to be helping you.
"okay..lets wash this hair. huh?"
"i can wash it.."
"your tired and i love you so im gonna help."
bf!matt who needs to be near you at all times.
"where'd you go?!"
"to the bathroom.."
"jesus..could've told me.."
"wha- yeah..okay. go to sleep."
bf!matt who sits outside the shower door while you shower.
"and i was thinking. what if i just taught you to drive?"
"do we need to talk about this while im showering?"
bf!matt who loves filming sex tapes, especially backshots.
bf!matt who is extremely moody when you're gone.
"matt can you take the-"
"fuck off!"
"jesus..the fuck happened to you.."
bf!matt who hates arguing but you clearly pushed too far.
"probably my other man."
"what...?"
"what? i was kidding..matt.."
bf!matt who gives you silent treatment all day.
"can we talk..matt? come on.."
bf!matt who just cooks for himself he's so mad.
"you made my favourite? oh.."
walks away with a plate for himself
"fucking hell.."
bf!matt who doesn't pay attention to your apologies.
bf!matt who shoves past you, not realising how strong he is.
bf!matt who feels horrible when he accidentally hurts you.
"ow.."
"oh shit.. sorry baby. im so sorry okay? you're okay.."
bf!matt who finds you crying and is immediatley there.
"hey..is it still hurting? im so sorry.."
"no..im pregnant.."
bf!matt who attacks you with a hug when he finds out your pregnant.
"what?! oh my..oh my god! yes yes yes!"
bf!matt who is obsessed with your bump.
"so cute. a whole life's in there.."
"yep..you excited?"
"so."
bf!matt who is extremely overprotective while your pregnant.
"no!!"
"jesus..what?!"
"i can load the dishwasher. you sit."
"you made it sound like i was commiting a crime.."
bf!matt who always texts you while he's filming/streaming.
"can you put your phone down for 2 minutes??"
"yeah one second.."
"you said that 5 minutes ago!"
bf!matt who lets you force him into doing a tiktok dance with him.
bf!matt who freaks out at the birth.
bf!matt who takes the drive home a bit too carefully.
"babe, i know your nervous but we are barely moving."
"im not hurting the baby. im doing 20.."
"thats the problem."
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a/n- this is just general bf matt unlike my others but yeah so this may push me back into my break because its absoulutely awful!! but im thinking of doing a halloween theme, doubt ill pull throught though! im so tired :)
taglist! @bellaonthelow @hrtsdollie @sturnclouds @christophersgf @ellizzyy @moonk1ss3d @phoenix062 @pixxiies @conspiracy-ash @blahbel668 @monroesturnns @gwennybenny @sturnobsessedwh0re @xoxo4chriss @pixie-sticks-are-good @wurlibydominicfike @anitahunt @ilusa @mattstrombolii @stvrlighht @asherrisrandom @amelia-sturniolo3 @lianomer
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shdysders · 16 days ago
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lips that lied
pairing: tara carpenter & female reader
summary: tara makes a drunken mistake at the party you didn't want her to attend.
word count: 8.5k
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Tara didn't mean for it to turn into a fight.
She never did. It was like something inside her took over—this simmering frustration that she couldn't control, no matter how hard she tried.
The moment someone started telling her what to do or how to live her life, it was like a switch flipped.
She'd hear the words, feel the anger rise, and before she even realized it, she was saying something sharp, defensive.
It had started small, little things that shouldn't have mattered so much. Sam reminding her to take her laundry to her room or nagging her to empty the dishwasher.
Tara knew Sam wasn't trying to push her buttons, but it always felt like she was. The tone Sam used—the one laced with authority, like she was the boss of everything—grated on Tara's nerves.
It didn't matter that Sam was older, that she'd been through more. Tara wasn't a kid anymore. She didn't need someone hovering over her shoulder, pointing out every little thing she did wrong.
But it wasn't just Sam anymore. The fights had started bleeding into other parts of her life, other relationships. With you. And that hurt more than anything.
You were the one person Tara felt like she could truly be herself around, the one who always had her back, no matter what.
But lately, it felt like every conversation between you two ended the same way—with raised voices and lingering tension. And no matter how hard she tried to keep her temper in check, she always ended up getting mad.
She didn't mean it. She didn't intend to lash out at you. But when you brought up the parties, the drinking, the staying out late, it was like a spark to dry tinder. It wasn't the words themselves—it was the way you said them.
The concern in your voice, the way your brows furrowed just slightly, like you were worried but also disappointed. It made her feel like you didn't trust her, like you thought she was reckless and incapable. And that stung more than she'd ever let on.
Deep down, Tara knew where you were coming from. After everything you'd both been through—everything with Ghostface—it made sense that you'd be scared, that you'd want to protect her. She understood that.
But she couldn't shake the feeling that your concern came with strings, like it was just another way of trying to control her. Another way of making her feel small, like she couldn't make her own choices without you or Sam hovering over her shoulder.
And maybe it wasn't fair to take it out on you. Maybe it wasn't fair to get angry every time you brought it up. But Tara couldn't help it. The anger came fast and burned hot, and by the time she realized it, the damage was already done.
It was always about the same thing, too—the parties, the drinking. Always. You'd look at her like she was throwing her life away, and she'd lash out, throwing up her walls before you could even get a word in.
She hated the look on your face when it happened, the way your shoulders would drop just slightly, like you were trying to hide how much it hurt.
But that only made her angrier—at you, at herself, at everything.
Because she didn't know how to stop it. She didn't know how to stop feeling like this, like everyone she cared about was trying to tell her how to live her life. And she didn't know how to tell you that it wasn't you she was angry at—it was everything else.
Tara had been trying—really, she had. There were nights she'd sat on her bed, staring at the ceiling, telling herself she didn't need to go out again. That she could say no the next time her friends invited her to a party. College life wasn't supposed to be about drinking until you blacked out or waking up to half-remembered nights.
That's what you and Sam had told her, over and over. And the worst part? You were right. Tara knew you were right. That's probably why it made her so angry.
She hated the way her stomach twisted every time you brought it up, the way your words stuck in her head like some nagging voice she couldn't shake.
She wasn't proud of some of the nights she'd had—the tequila shots that blurred into oblivion, the mornings she woke up with her head pounding and no idea how she got back to her room.
But she didn't want to hear it from you. Not when it already weighed on her enough.
And yet, she'd been trying. Tara hadn't gone to as many parties recently, even when her friends begged her to come out. She told herself she didn't need it, that she didn't need to drown herself in the chaos of booze and loud music just to feel something.
College wasn't about that. You and Sam were right about that too.
But tonight... tonight was Halloween.
The one night of the year where partying didn't feel reckless—it felt expected. It wasn't just about drinking; it was about the costumes, the energy, the way everyone on campus seemed to buzz with excitement for weeks leading up to it.
Tara had spent the last two days scrolling through pictures of her friends' costumes, feeling the first pangs of FOMO creeping in as they texted her plans for the night.
If there was ever a night to drink and party, it was Halloween. That's what everyone kept saying, and deep down, Tara agreed. It wasn't like any other night of the year. This wasn't just some random frat party—it was a celebration, an excuse to dress up, let loose, and not think about all the heavy stuff for a while. For once, it felt justified.
But there was that nagging voice again. The one that sounded a lot like yours.
You wouldn't see it that way. You never did.
It was part of why she hadn't brought it up yet, why she'd stayed quiet all day when the group chat started blowing up with details about pre-games and house locations. She already knew what you'd say, could hear the conversation playing out in her head like a bad rerun.
Isn't it the same as every other one? You said you were going to cut back, Tara.
She sighed, pulling her phone out and scrolling through the endless stream of messages. It wasn't like she hadn't thought about staying in. There was something comforting about the idea of spending the night with you, cozying up on the couch with a movie while everyone else partied. She liked those nights the most. She liked you the most.
But Halloween only came once a year, and she wasn't ready to let it pass her by.
She had made up her mind hours ago.
Though she hadn't told you yet, and maybe that was unfair. But what was the point? You'd already made your feelings clear about the parties and the drinking, and she wasn't in the mood for another lecture. It wasn't like she needed your permission anyway. Tara had spent all afternoon convincing herself of that, repeating it in her head like a mantra while she got ready.
Now, standing in front of her mirror, she leaned in closer, carefully dragging the eyeliner across her lid with a steady hand. Her music played softly from her speaker as she moved with practiced ease, brushing a shimmery gold shadow over her eyes.
The sound of your footsteps approaching the room made her shoulders tense, but she didn't let it show. She focused on her reflection, keeping her face neutral, as if she hadn't heard you come to the doorway.
You leaned against the frame, your arms crossed loosely over your chest. "Where are you going?" Your voice was casual, but the curiosity behind it was unmistakable.
Tara's eyes flicked to yours in the mirror, her expression calm, as if this were no big deal. "Just a Halloween party," she said, her tone light and nonchalant. She reached for her lipstick, uncapping it and twisting it up. "I was thinking maybe you could come along."
It was true. She wanted you to come.
You didn't answer right away. Tara could feel your hesitation, the way your arms tightened slightly against your body. Finally, you spoke, your voice softer this time. "Oh... I thought we could just stay home and watch a movie. Sam's not home, so it'd just be the two of us."
Tara froze for just a second, the lipstick poised in her hand. She felt the weight of your words settle over the room, quiet but heavy. She hadn't thought about that—about how it would've been just you and her tonight, no interruptions, no one else around.
Her gaze flicked back to the mirror, and for a moment, she almost said yes. But the lipstick in her hand reminded her of where her night was already headed, of the costume she'd spent hours putting together.
She sighed quietly, muttering under her breath, "Well, you should've said something sooner, then."
The words were out before she could stop them. She didn't even think about how they'd sound until the silence that followed made her realize just how loud they'd been.
Slowly, she glanced at you again in the mirror, her stomach twisting as she saw the way your expression changed—the faint flicker of hurt in your eyes, the way your posture straightened as if bracing for something.
Tara clenched her jaw, trying to push down the flicker of anger she could already feel stirring in her chest. She hadn't meant to snap—it just came out wrong. But the way you stood there, looking at her like she'd just let you down, made it so much harder to keep her cool.
She capped the lipstick with a sharp click and turned to face you fully, leaning one hand against the desk behind her. "Are you coming or not?" she asked, her voice clipped, already tinged with irritation.
You hesitated again, and Tara could see the conflict written all over your face. "No," you said finally, your voice quiet but firm. "And honestly... I don't think you should go either."
There it was—the thing she'd been waiting for, the thing she was dreading. Your concern, your protectiveness, wrapped up in a polite but unmistakable disapproval.
Tara let out a sharp exhale, shaking her head as she pushed off the desk. "Of course you don't," she muttered under her breath, though it wasn't quite quiet enough to go unnoticed.
She started pacing the room, her hands flexing at her sides as she tried to keep herself in check, but the familiar heat of frustration was already creeping up her neck.
This was how it always started—your calm but firm words, her biting back without thinking, and then the inevitable explosion. She could feel it building, that anger she never knew how to stop, the same kind that always reared its head when Sam tried to tell her what to do.
"I don't get why this is such a big deal," Tara said, her tone sharper than she intended. She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back against the desk with a defensive edge. "It's Halloween. It's not like I do this every night."
"You shouldn't be doing it at all," you replied, your voice quiet but firm, though there was a tension in your jaw that gave away your frustration. "Tara, you know it's not safe. Not after—"
"Don't." Her voice was clipped as she cut you off, her eyes narrowing as she shook her head. "Don't bring that up." She pushed herself off the desk, turning her back to you.
Her fingers tightened around the fabric as she stared at the floor. Her chest felt tight, her heart pounding against her ribs like it wanted to break free. She didn't need you to say it. She already knew. The parties, the drinking—it wasn't safe. It wasn't smart. But she was so tired of being reminded of it, so tired of feeling like she couldn't make a single decision without someone stepping in to tell her it was the wrong one.
"Why do we keep having this same conversation?" Tara asked, spinning around to face you, her voice louder now, almost exasperated. She threw her hands up, the movement sharp and agitated. "Why can't you just trust me?"
"It's not about trust," you said, your voice rising slightly to match hers, though you clearly didn't want to fight. "It's about being realistic, Tara. If something happens—"
"Nothing is going to happen!" Tara snapped, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. She took a step closer to you, her frustration spilling out in the way her fists clenched at her sides. "Why do you always assume the worst? I'm not some reckless idiot who can't take care of herself!"
You flinched slightly, your lips pressing together into a thin line. But then, your eyes met hers, steady and unflinching. "I don't think you're reckless," you said, your voice softer now but still resolute. "I think you're stubborn. And I think you're angry, and you don't even know why half the time."
Tara's breath hitched, the words cutting deeper than she'd expected. Her jaw tightened, and she let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head as she looked away. "Oh, so now I'm the problem?" she muttered bitterly, pacing a few steps to the other side of the room.
"I didn't say that," you said, your voice still calm, but there was an edge to it now—a frustration that had been building over time. "But you don't listen, Tara. Not to me. Not to Sam. It's like you don't care how much we worry about you."
She stopped pacing, her head snapping up to meet your gaze. "I didn't ask you to worry," she shot back, her tone colder now. "I didn't ask for either of you to act like I'm some fragile little kid who can't handle herself."
The words hung in the air, heavy and cutting.
"Tara..." Your voice wavered slightly, and for a moment, she saw the hurt flicker in your eyes, the way your shoulders sagged just a bit. "I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to keep you safe. Because I care about you. Because I love you. And it feels like you don't even care about that."
Her chest tightened at your words, but she pushed the feeling down, burying it beneath her anger. "I do care," she snapped, though her voice cracked slightly. "But I can't keep living my life walking on eggshells because you're scared something might happen. That's not fair."
"And it's fair to me?" you shot back, your voice rising now, the frustration finally spilling over. "To stand here and watch you go out, knowing damn well something could happen to you and I'd be powerless to stop it?"
Tara opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss. Her hands fell to her sides, her breathing uneven as she stared at you, the weight of your words sinking in. The anger still simmered beneath her skin, but now it was tangled with guilt, confusion, and something she didn't know how to name.
"It's not safe, Tara," you said, your tone softer this time, like you were pleading with her. Your hands rested at your sides, fingers twitching slightly, a subtle sign of the nerves you were trying to hide. "You drink too much. You're out late, and if something happened—"
"Like what?" Tara cut you off sharply, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as she took a step back. Her posture screamed defensiveness, her jaw tightening as she stared you down. "Ghostface? You think I can't handle myself?"
"That's not what I'm saying, and you know it," you replied, exhaling in frustration. Your tone was measured, but there was an edge to it now, like you were walking a fine line between trying to stay calm and letting your own anger slip through. "I just don't understand why you need to go out all the time. Why can't we just stay here? Together?"
Tara's mouth opened, then closed, her eyes flickering to the floor for a brief second before she met your gaze again. Staying here felt suffocating, like the walls of the apartment were closing in on her a little more every day. But she didn't say that. Instead, she threw her hands up in exasperation, her voice rising despite herself.
"I'm not some kid who needs a curfew, okay? I'm not going to stop living my life just because you and Sam want to keep me locked up in bubble wrap!"
Your face fell, the flicker of hurt in your eyes like a knife twisting in Tara's chest. She hadn't meant it like that—at least, not entirely. But the words were out now, sharp and cutting, and there was no way to take them back.
"Tara..." Your voice was quieter now, but the disappointment in it was unmistakable. It made her stomach churn, but the anger boiling inside her wouldn't let her stop.
"You don't get it," she snapped, doubling down even though part of her wanted to stop. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, her body trembling slightly as she glared at you. "You never want to come with me anyway, so why do you care so much? You're just going to sit here and judge me from the couch like you always do!"
"That's not fair," you said, your voice breaking slightly, but you didn't raise it. Instead, you crossed your arms, your shoulders hunching defensively as you looked at her, the sadness in your eyes more apparent now. "I'm not judging you, Tara. I'm scared for you. There's a difference."
"Scared for me?" she scoffed, rolling her eyes as she took another step back, her arms still crossed like she was shielding herself. "I don't need you to be scared for me. I'm fine! I'm not some helpless little girl who needs you holding my hand every second of the day!"
You blinked, your lips parting like you wanted to say something, but the words didn't come. Tara could see the hurt written all over your face, the way your shoulders slumped like her words had physically knocked the wind out of you.
"Why do you always do this?" she continued, her voice louder now, cracking slightly at the edges. She ran a hand through her hair, pacing a few steps before spinning back around to face you. "Why do you always make me feel like I'm the bad guy? Like I'm the problem?"
"I'm not trying to make you feel like anything," you said, your voice shaking now, though you still kept it calm. "I just—I don't want to lose you, Tara. Is that so hard to understand?"
Tara froze for a moment, your words cutting through her anger like a blade. But instead of softening, the guilt twisting in her gut only fueled the fire.
"You're not going to lose me," she said, her tone sharp, almost dismissive. "But you can't keep treating me like I'm going to break every time I step out the door. That's not fair to me, okay? I'm allowed to have a life."
The silence that followed was heavy, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on. Tara's chest heaved as she stared at you, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails bit into her palms.
You took a step closer, your hands falling to your sides as you looked at her with pleading eyes. "I'm not trying to take away your life, Tara. I just want to be a part of it. And I want you to be safe. That's all."
Tara's hands shook at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to hold herself together. But the tightness in her chest only grew, her pulse pounding in her ears.
She felt caged, suffocated by the weight of your concern, like every decision she made had to be scrutinized and questioned.
It wasn't fair—it wasn't fair that you could make her feel this way, guilty and cornered, when all she wanted was space to breathe.
"Well, maybe I don't want you to be a part of it!" The words were out before she could stop them, and the second they left her mouth, she wanted to take them back.
Your expression shattered, your eyes widening slightly as you stepped back like she'd physically pushed you. The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air.
Tara swallowed hard, her throat tightening as she looked away. "I didn't mean that," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. But the damage was already done.
You didn't say anything, your lips pressing into a thin line as you looked down, your hands clenching at your sides.
"I'm going," she said finally, her voice colder now as she grabbed her jacket off the chair. "Don't wait up."
You finally opened your mouth at that, your voice trembling as you took a hesitant step forward. "Tara, wait, I'll—”
But you were interrupted by the sharp slam of the door.
Which Tara slammed behind her harder than she meant to, the sharp sound echoing in the hallway. She paused for a moment, her chest heaving as the anger slowly began to ebb, leaving guilt in its place. She rubbed a hand over her face, muttering a quiet curse under her breath.
She did feel bad. She hated the look on your face, the way your shoulders had slumped, like her words had taken something out of you.
But going back now? That would only prove your point—that she couldn't handle herself. Tara wasn't going to let that happen.
Her boots clicked against the pavement as she made her way down the street, her jacket pulled tightly around her. The city was alive with Halloween energy, groups of costumed people spilling out of bars and clubs, laughter and music filling the air. It should've made her feel better, reminded her why she was doing this. Instead, it only made her stomach twist.
By the time she reached the house, the bass from the music inside was already vibrating through the sidewalk. The door swung open as someone stumbled out, nearly knocking into her, and Tara slipped past them without a word.
Inside, the party was in full swing. The living room was packed with people, costumes ranging from elaborate to lazy crowding every corner. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol and sweat, the music loud enough to drown out her thoughts. Perfect.
The first thing she did was head for the kitchen, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. She grabbed a red solo cup from the counter and poured herself a drink, the burn of the cheap vodka barely registering as she tipped it back and swallowed half in one go.
Her shoulders relaxed slightly, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through her chest. Tara grabbed another cup—this time mixing it with whatever mixer was nearby—and made her way back to the main room, the tension in her body slowly unwinding.
"Tara!" Anika's voice cut through the noise, and Tara turned to see her standing near the couch, Mindy by her side. Both of them were grinning, their costumes half-wrinkled from the chaos of the party.
"Hey!" Tara forced a smile, lifting her drink in a half-hearted salute as she made her way over.
"Look at you!" Mindy said, smirking as she gave Tara a once-over. "All dressed up and ready to party. Didn't think you were coming."
"Changed my mind," Tara replied casually, taking another sip of her drink as she leaned against the wall.
Anika nudged her playfully, her own drink sloshing slightly in her hand. "Glad you did. It's not a party without you."
Tara chuckled softly, her smile feeling a little more real now. The noise, the crowd, the alcohol—it was a distraction, exactly what she needed.
Anika shook her head, grinning as she sipped her drink. "Where's Y/N? I thought you two were hanging out tonight."
Mindy shot Tara a knowing look, raising her drink to her lips as she waited for the response.
Tara stiffened, her grip tightening slightly on her cup before she masked it with a shrug. "She didn't feel like coming."
"Really?" Anika frowned. "She seemed excited about Halloween the other day."
"She had other plans," Tara said quickly, brushing it off as she took another sip of her drink. "It's not a big deal."
Anika's brows furrowed slightly, but she didn't push. Mindy, however, smirked as she leaned closer. "Trouble in paradise?"
"Shut up," Tara muttered, rolling her eyes as she took a long drink.
Mindy laughed, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Just saying."
"Okay, but seriously," Mindy said, her tone conspiratorial as she leaned closer, clearly trying to change the subject. "Who do you think has the worst costume here? My vote's on the guy in the banana suit.”
Tara snorted, the tension in her chest loosening a little more as she let herself fall into the moment, pushing everything else to the back of her mind.
For now, this was enough.
But it wasn't for long.
The drinks went down too easily tonight, one after the other, the burn of the alcohol soon replaced by a numbing buzz that made Tara's limbs feel weightless. She wasn't keeping track—she never did—but by the time she was halfway through her fourth drink, the world around her had already started to blur.
It was worse than usual. She could feel it, the familiar dizziness settling in her head, the way her balance wavered slightly every time she shifted her weight. But she didn't care. She couldn't care.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw your face—the way your voice had cracked when you said, "I just don't want to lose you." The guilt she'd managed to bury earlier was bubbling back to the surface, and the only way to shove it down again was to keep drinking.
By the time she reached for her fifth cup, her hands were unsteady. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice told her to stop, that this was too much, too fast. But that voice sounded a lot like you, and Tara didn't want to hear it.
She threw back the drink anyway, wincing as it went down harder this time, the sweetness of the mixer barely masking the sharpness of the alcohol. The room spun slightly when she set the cup down, and she reached out to steady herself on the edge of the counter.
"Hey, you good?" someone asked, but Tara didn't bother turning to look. She waved them off with a muttered "Yeah, fine," before pushing herself away from the counter.
She stumbled back into the main room, the crowd swallowing her whole. Anika and Mindy had been here a minute ago—she was sure of it—but now they were nowhere to be seen.
God, she was drunk. Too drunk.
She tried to push through the sea of people, her eyes darting around the room in search of her friends. Her chest tightened when she couldn't spot them, panic starting to creep in around the edges of her alcohol-fueled haze.
Someone bumped into her, spilling a bit of their drink onto her jacket, and she spun around, her frustration spilling out in a slurred, "Watch it!" The person just rolled their eyes and moved on, leaving Tara standing there, unsteady and alone in the middle of the chaos.
Her head was pounding now, the music too loud, the lights too bright. She fumbled for her phone, pulling it out of her pocket to call Anika or Mindy, but her fingers felt clumsy, and she nearly dropped it twice before managing to open her contacts.
No answer.
Tara swallowed hard, her throat burning from the alcohol and something else she didn't want to name. The room felt smaller now, the walls closing in as the reality of the situation began to settle over her. She'd lost her friends. She was drunker than she'd ever been. And she had no idea what to do next.
The air in the crowded living room was stifling, thick with the mingling scents of sweat, spilled drinks, and cheap perfume.
Her head was swimming, the pounding bass vibrating in her chest like a second heartbeat. She pressed a hand to her temple, grimacing as the alcohol buzz threatened to tip her into full-on dizziness.
Her throat burned, dry and aching from the string of drinks she'd knocked back earlier. She needed water. Something cold to clear her head and keep her upright. The thought became a singular focus, cutting through the haze. Just water. If she could get to the kitchen, maybe she could think straight again.
The dimly lit hallway leading to it felt like a challenge course, bodies crowding every step of the way. Tara squeezed past a couple leaning against the wall and miscalculated her footing as her balance wavered. Before she could stop herself, she collided into someone with enough force to send her stumbling back.
"Whoa there," the guy said, his hands coming up instinctively to catch her by the shoulders.
Tara blinked, disoriented, her face heating from the embarrassment and the alcohol swirling in her system. "Sorry," she muttered, trying to straighten herself as her vision cleared enough to see who she'd bumped into.
Frankie. Of course.
He smirked, letting his hands drop but not stepping back. "Tara Carpenter, right?" His tone carried a mix of recognition and amusement, as though the universe had handed him this moment just for fun.
"Yeah," she said, brushing her hair back as she tried to shake off the drunken haze clouding her thoughts. "Sorry, I wasn't—"
"Looking where you were going?" he teased, his grin widening.
She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the faint curve of a smile tugging at her lips. "Something like that."
Frankie didn't move away, his presence lingering a little too close for what might have been polite. He tilted his head, giving her a once-over with that same smirk, his dark eyes glinting under the dim light.
"You seem like you've had a good time tonight," he said, his voice light but edged with something Tara couldn't quite place.
She shrugged, brushing imaginary lint off her sleeve as a distraction. "It's a party," she said, aiming for casual. "That's kind of the point, isn't it?"
Frankie chuckled, the sound low and smooth. "True. But you look like you might need a breather. Want some water or...?"
Tara raised an eyebrow, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. She wasn't sure if he was being considerate or just trying to prolong the conversation. Either way, she crossed her arms, leaning her hip against the counter to steady herself.
"I was about to get one," she admitted, her voice more defensive than she intended.
"Smart move," Frankie said, stepping around her to open the fridge. He pulled out a bottle and held it up with a crooked smile. "Ladies first?"
Her gaze flicked between him and the bottle, her lips quirking in a faint smirk of her own. "Thanks," she said, taking it from him and twisting the cap off.
She took a long sip, her throat easing from the burn of the earlier drinks. The water was cold, sharp against her tongue, and for a moment, she let herself focus on that—on the relief of it.
"So," Frankie said, leaning back against the counter as he watched her. "What brings you to this madhouse tonight? Thought you weren't much for these kinds of things."
Tara bristled slightly at the question, shifting her weight to the other foot. "Why does everyone assume that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "I can have fun, you know."
He grinned again, but it was softer this time, almost like he was testing the waters. "Didn't mean anything by it," he said. "Just... you seem more low-key. Not the type to down four drinks and stumble into strangers."
Tara rolled her eyes, though she couldn't entirely stop the heat rising to her cheeks. "Guess I'm full of surprises," she said, taking another sip of water.
Her thoughts drifted briefly as the alcohol in her system dulled her usual defenses. It felt nice, talking to someone without the tension simmering beneath the surface. No fights, no accusations, just... this. A moment where she wasn't angry or being scolded. She leaned into the counter, letting herself relax slightly.
Tara let her gaze drift over Frankie for a moment, her vision slightly unfocused from the alcohol but sharp enough to take in the details. His short, dark curls framed his face, and there was something effortlessly casual about him—like he knew exactly how to play the part of the guy who didn't care too much but somehow still caught everyone's attention.
A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, a fixture she doubted ever left, and the faintest trace of a beard shadowed his jawline.
She took another sip of water, using the motion to cover the way her eyes lingered. It wasn't like she was interested—not really. He had a reputation, and not the good kind. But he was here. He was talking to her. And with her friends somewhere out in the chaos of the party, who else was she supposed to talk to?
Tara knew she was drunk, the buzz coursing through her veins a constant reminder. It made everything feel a little too easy, a little too warm.
Her thoughts were slippery, darting from one thing to another before she could catch them. But still, she could look, couldn't she? That wasn't a crime.
"Your friends ditch you or something?" Frankie's voice cut through the fog in her head, his tone light but curious.
She shrugged, her fingers curling around the neck of the water bottle. "Something like that," she said, leaning a little more heavily against the counter. "They'll turn up eventually."
"Mm," he hummed, his smirk deepening. "Guess that makes me the lucky one, then."
Tara raised an eyebrow at that, her lips twitching into a faint smile despite herself. "Lucky?" she echoed, her tone teasing.
"Yeah," he said, his gaze flickering over her like he was sizing her up. "I get to keep you company."
She rolled her eyes, though the warmth in her chest spread a little further. "You're full of it," she muttered, but there wasn't any bite to her words.
He shrugged, unbothered. "Maybe. But you're still standing here, aren't you?"
She didn't answer right away, instead glancing at the door that led back into the main room. The thump of the music bled through, muffled but still loud enough to make her head ache. She could leave. She could walk back out there, try to find Mindy and Anika and pretend she wasn't standing here with him.
But instead, she stayed.
"You're right," she said finally, her tone dry. "Guess I am."
Her lips curved into a smirk, matching the one Frankie had been wearing since the moment she stumbled into him. Her steps were slow but deliberate as she closed the distance between them, her eyes locked on his.
The noise of the party around them faded into the background, leaving only the faint thrum of the bass vibrating through the walls.
She didn't know why she was moving closer, or what exactly she was hoping to find in the glint of amusement in his eyes, but she didn't stop herself either. Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through her veins, softening the sharp edges of her usual caution. Maybe it was the simmering anger she hadn't been able to shake since she left the apartment.
Either way, the part of her that usually screamed to think twice was silent, and she wasn't about to argue.
Frankie didn't step back as she approached. If anything, his smirk widened, the corners of his lips curling with a confidence that might have been off-putting if she were sober. But she wasn't sober, and the alcohol told her it was a good thing. His posture remained relaxed, leaning slightly against the counter, but his eyes followed her every move.
Tara stopped just close enough for the air between them to feel charged, her gaze flickering down to the beer in his hand before returning to his face.
Her heart thudded in her chest, though she couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol coursing through her veins or the strange electricity in the air between them. Her balance wavered slightly as she shifted onto her tiptoes, her hands briefly brushing the counter for support before she reached up.
The decision wasn't calculated—it wasn't even really a decision. It just happened. Her lips pressed to his, soft but insistent, the faint bitterness of beer on his mouth mingling with the warmth of his breath.
For the briefest moment, her mind went completely quiet. The noise of the party faded into the background. The tension from earlier, the argument, the mess of emotions—none of it mattered. Her chest felt lighter, as if she'd found a fleeting relief she hadn't even known she was searching for.
Frankie responded almost instantly, his lips moving against hers with a confidence that matched his earlier demeanor. His hand slid to her waist, steadying her as she leaned further into him. The kiss was firm, and there was no hesitation on his part. It was easy, natural, and for a fleeting second.
But then, just as quickly, he pulled away, breaking the connection with a soft sound that felt too loud in the charged silence between them. Tara blinked up at him, her breath hitching slightly as she tried to process the shift.
Frankie's expression was a mixture of amusement and something darker, his brows furrowed slightly even as a small, lopsided smirk played on his lips. His eyes scanned her face like he was trying to solve a puzzle, his voice low and teasing when he finally spoke. "Don't you have a girlfriend?"
The words hung in the air, sharp and pointed, but they didn't land the way they should have. Tara's mind didn't snap to you, to your laugh or your smile or the way you always made her feel safe. It didn't even flicker with guilt. Instead, the question felt almost absurd, like it wasn't meant for her.
Her expression shifted, her brows knitting together as her lips parted slightly in confusion. She stared at Frankie, her drunken mind slow to process the accusation. "No," she said finally, the word slipping out with a sharp edge, like the idea itself offended her.
She barely gave him time to react. His smirk widened slightly, like he wasn't entirely convinced, but she didn't care. She didn't want to care. She pushed up onto her toes again, her hands gripping the edge of the counter for balance, and kissed him once more.
This time, Frankie didn't hesitate. His hands found her waist again, pulling her closer as he kissed her back with more force. Tara leaned into him, her body moving instinctively as her mind quieted further. The heat of his touch and the pressure of his lips were the only things she could focus on, drowning out the buzz of the party and the alcohol swirling in her system.
The kiss deepened, and the edges of the room blurred as the world around them fell away. Tara didn't think. She didn't analyze. She just let herself go, letting the moment sweep her up completely, letting the alcohol and adrenaline guide her. For now, it was easier not to remember. Easier not to think about anything else.
It didn't feel good.
That was the thought that struck her, sharp and insistent, as the kiss deepened. There was a hollowness in her chest, a feeling she couldn't quite place that refused to be drowned out by the alcohol. But it was supposed to feel good. That's what she told herself. This was what she came here for, wasn't it? To forget. To escape. To lose herself in something that didn't matter.
Frankie's hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer, and Tara kissed him harder, as if forcing the moment to feel like it was enough would make it so. But that sensation in her stomach—the one that twisted and knotted itself tighter with every second—didn't leave.
Her lips moved against his with a kind of desperation, but the spark she expected, the relief she thought she'd find, didn't come. The kiss was warm, his touch steady, but it wasn't enough to chase away the heaviness sitting in her chest. It wasn't enough to erase the lingering anger, the ache she refused to name, or the faint sense of wrongness pressing at the edges of her mind.
Tara told herself it was the alcohol. That the burn in her stomach and the dull ache creeping up her spine was just the vodka catching up to her. But it wasn't. It was something else entirely, something she didn't want to think about.
So she pushed it down, ignored it. She kissed Frankie like it was a solution, like if she just went through the motions hard enough, it would fix the uneasy feeling clawing at her insides. She tilted her head, her fingers gripping the counter for balance, and kissed him like she meant it.
But no matter how hard she tried, that feeling in her stomach didn't leave.
And then.
It hit her all at once, like a punch to the gut.
You.
Her body froze against Frankie's, the haze of alcohol momentarily lifting as her mind snapped into sharp, almost painful focus. She did have a girlfriend. A girlfriend who was waiting at home for her.
A girlfriend who had looked at her earlier with worry etched into her features, asking her to stay, asking her to talk.
A girlfriend who wanted nothing more than to spend the night curled up on the couch with her, watching movies and laughing at whatever cheesy dialogue made its way onto the screen.
She had you.
And she'd told Frankie she didn't. She'd looked him in the eyes, as if the very idea of you didn't exist, and said no. No. She'd kissed him, lied to him, and to herself, and for what?
Her breath caught in her throat as the weight of it all came crashing down.
Tara shoved Frankie away abruptly, panic tightening every muscle in her body. The force sent her stumbling back a step, and Frankie staggered too, looking utterly baffled.
"What the fuck?" he spat, his voice sharp and angry, his brows furrowing in disbelief.
Tara barely heard him. Her chest heaved as she scanned the kitchen, her eyes darting to the edges of the room, searching frantically. Had anyone seen them? Was someone standing there, phone in hand, ready to immortalize her mistake forever?
Her hands trembled as her gaze swept over the crowd, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She didn't know if it was the alcohol, the fear, or the overwhelming realization of what she'd just done, but the world tilted slightly as her mind raced, desperate to make sense of what had just happened—and to undo it, even though she knew she couldn't.
Tara's eyes darted wildly across the room, desperate to anchor herself to something, anything that would quiet the storm brewing inside her. One of the doors creaked open as someone stumbled in, but she was already turning toward the noise filtering in from the main room.
Her gaze followed the chaotic scene beyond the doorway—the crowd swaying to the beat of the music, cups raised in the air, bodies pressed too close together.
She spotted a couple making out against the wall, their faces blurred together in the dim light, oblivious to the world around them. Nearby, a guy in a cheap pirate costume laughed loudly, spilling his drink over himself as his friends roared in drunken amusement. It was all so normal, so loud, so suffocating.
And then, her breath hitched.
There, just beyond the shifting sea of people, was a figure standing motionless. Someone was looking straight at her, their eyes locked onto hers.
At first, it didn't register. Her vision swam, the blur of tears and alcohol distorting the scene in front of her. But that silhouette—that hair, those familiar features—something about it cut through the haze, stabbing straight into her chest.
Her pulse quickened as the figure stepped forward, just slightly, enough for the light to catch their face.
It was you.
Tara froze.
It was you—your eyes, your expression. The heartbreak painted so clearly across your face, it made her stomach twist painfully. And then there was your costume—something hastily thrown together, it seemed. A loose shirt that was supposed to pass as part of the look, a small prop in your hand that didn't match the theme of the party. It was clear you hadn't cared what you looked like. You had come here for her.
Tara felt like she was going to be sick.
You had seen it. Tara could tell by the look in your eyes, the way they shimmered with unshed tears, the way your brows furrowed ever so slightly, as if trying to make sense of what you'd witnessed.
You had seen her kiss him. Probably seen her lie, even if you hadn't heard the words. The betrayal was written all over your face, the silent confirmation that Tara's worst fear—the one she hadn't even allowed herself to fully acknowledge—was now her reality.
You didn't say a word, didn't move. You just stood there, your shoulders slightly slumped, the light from the room casting harsh shadows over the raw hurt etched into your features. Your lips parted like you wanted to speak, but no sound came out.
She couldn't breathe.
Her body trembled, her legs feeling like they'd give out at any moment. The guilt crashed over her in waves, suffocating her. Tara's chest tightened as she stared back at you, her lips parting uselessly as though she could explain—could somehow undo what you must have seen.
Her mind raced, replaying the moment just minutes before when she'd lied, when she'd kissed someone who wasn't you.
The taste of Frankie's beer still lingered on her lips, and it made her stomach churn. How could she? How could she do this to you—the one person who cared for her, loved her, even when she didn't deserve it?
Her guilt clawed at her, sharp and unrelenting. She could feel the weight of it in her chest, see it reflected in your eyes.
You were here, dressed in something last-minute, probably feeling out of place in the loud, chaotic party. You'd come for her, likely because you'd wanted to talk, to make things better after the argument. She could see the effort, the love in the way you'd shown up for her. And she'd thrown it away.
Tara's breathing turned shallow, her hands shaking at her sides. She couldn't move, couldn't speak. The words she wanted to say died in her throat, swallowed by the lump of regret that had taken over.
Her lips trembled, but no sound came. The only thing she could do was stand there, staring at the one person she swore she'd never hurt, knowing she already had.
Tara felt as though her chest was caving in, the weight of her actions pressing down until it became nearly unbearable. Her stomach churned violently, guilt sinking its claws into her as her mind replayed every small detail of the moment before. The way her lips had moved against his. The lie she'd so easily let slip from her mouth.
And now, you. Standing there, looking at her like she was a stranger—a stranger who had just torn your heart in two.
Her throat tightened painfully, a lump of emotion rising that she couldn't swallow down no matter how hard she tried. Her head buzzed with alcohol, with shame, with the sudden, overwhelming clarity of what she'd just done.
You weren't supposed to be here. You were supposed to be at home, waiting for her like you always did, with that soft patience only you seemed to have for her. But you weren't.
You were here, in front of her, and she had ruined everything.
A tear slipped down your cheek, catching the dim light as it fell, and it was like a knife slicing through her chest.
She watched as you exhaled shakily, your shoulders rising and falling with effort, as if just standing there was almost too much.
And then you nodded. Slowly, your head dipped once, twice, as if acknowledging what she'd done, what she was.
That nearly undid her.
Your lips pressed into a small, trembling smile—forced, broken, and so soft it shattered her. You tried. Even in the moment where she'd failed you in the worst way, you still tried. And that was what gutted her the most.
You didn't say a word.
You turned around, your movements slow and deliberate, like it physically hurt to walk away.
And Tara stood there, rooted in place, her hands trembling so violently at her sides she could feel her nails biting into her palms. Her chest heaved, her breath shallow and uneven. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to move, to follow you, to grab your hand and beg for forgiveness.
She wanted to run after you, to stop you before you disappeared into the night. She wanted to scream your name, to throw herself at your feet and tell you it was all a mistake, that she only loved you. You. Always you.
But she couldn't move. She was frozen, locked in place by her own fear, her own shame.
And you walked out.
The sound of the front door clicking shut in the distance echoed like a death knell in her ears. Tara felt the walls closing in around her, the party suddenly too loud, too bright, too much. And yet, all she could do was stand there, watching the spot where you'd been, her chest hollow and her heart splintering apart.
She had lost you. And it was her fault.
Tara was left staring at the place you just stood, knowing she'd just destroyed the one thing that ever felt like home.
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idkdudethisisntpermanent · 1 month ago
Text
Keep Your Eyes on Me - pt.ii
tara carpenter x female reader
part i | part ii
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
summary: Tara begins to question her own emotions, especially when the thought of losing Y/n's attention unexpectedly stirs something deeper.
word count: 5.3k
warnings: slight violence
————
"Is Y/n dying?" Mindy asks with genuine curiosity looking back at you and Tara. "What the fuck is wrong with her face?"
The five of you had just gotten off the subway and exited the station, but your mind was still stuck a few moments behind. Tara had wrapped her arm around yours and spoken the five words that made your heart skip a beat: Keep your eyes on me.
Since then, you hadn’t been able to function. Stiff as a board, your brain was in a daze, replaying those words over and over. Now, you were walking aimlessly, arm-in-arm with Tara, trailing behind Mindy, Chad, and Sam, who were a good distance ahead.
"I think it might have something to do with Tara," Chad chimes in, glancing back at you both.
That comment got Sam's attention and she finally turned to see what was happening. "Yikes she does look—hold on why would Tara be responsible for whatever is going on with Y/n's face?" She asks with a raised brow, looking at the twins genuinely confused.
"Look at her arm," Chad says, pointing at Tara. "It’s wrapped around Y/n’s."
"She's looking up at her like Y/n put the stars in the sky," Mindy laughs.
Sam squints her eyes still confused. "So? Tara's finally warming up to Y/n. I spoke to her a few weeks ago about how Y/n is good for her."
"Her arm is around Y/n's," Chad states again with more emphasis.
"I hold my friends by their arm all the time," Sam shrugs like it's no big deal.
"Oh honey... did you say friends?" Mindy says gently wrapping her arm around Sam's shoulders like she was trying to soften the blow. "You know Y/n has the hots for your sister right?"
Sam wasn't stupid. There was instances in the last six months where the thought had crossed her mind. The way you always glanced at Tara after one of Mindy’s outrageous jokes, just to see her reaction. The way you went silent every time Tara got too close. The way your cheeks flushed crimson whenever Tara did something particularly sweet or kind.
Sam sighs. Deep down, she knew. The way you were attentive to Tara wasn’t just friendly—it was something more.
When she’d encouraged Tara to give you a chance, it wasn’t about dating—it was about letting someone in, letting someone care for her. But now, watching you and Tara in this new light, the possibility of her little sister entering her first relationship suddenly felt real.
That’s what unnerved her. Not you, specifically. She liked you. And if anyone was going to date Tara, she was glad it would be you.
"Don’t worry, Sam," Chad says, trying to reassure her. "Y/n’s a total dork. She can’t even admit to herself that she likes Tara. She just genuinely cares about her, even if she only gets to do that as a friend."
"Dude," Mindy cuts in, laughing so hard she’s clutching her stomach, "you literally helped Y/n get into your sister’s pants!"
“You gave Y/n first class tickets to take your sister to Pound town!” she adds in between laughs.
Chad groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Why are you like this?"
Sam felt her blood run cold. She changed her mind—maybe she did have a problem with you.
————
Meanwhile, about twenty steps behind the group, the younger Carpenter sister was freaking out for a completely different reason.
Sure, she hadn’t expected to enjoy the feeling of her hand resting on your bicep this much. That was its own problem. But what was really throwing her off was the deafening silence. Why weren’t you saying anything?
She’d called your name a few times now, but you hadn’t so much as blinked in response. She considered taking her arm away. Maybe she’d overstepped. It had been a bold move—not just saying what she did but closing the space between you two like this.
It was a stark contrast from what's the usual between you two—her throwing violent insults your way, half the time just to see how you’d react.
Okay maybe it makes sense why you weren't responding. Still, was it too much to ask for a little reaction?
Fearing she’d made you uncomfortable, Tara began to pull her arm away.
"No! Wait—" you blurt out, snapping out of your daze at the loss of contact. The words hang in the air, and the realization of what you just said slaps you in the face. Your face flushes red. "I mean—wait, not no! You can keep your hands to yourself if you want!" you stammer, awkwardly backpedaling as you take a step closer to the road to create a distance between you two.
She just told you that you can keep your eyes on her and you told her she can keep her hands to herself.
In that moment, you’d honestly prefer to be hit by a car than embarrass yourself any further in front of Tara.
You brace yourself, expecting her to roll her eyes, to call you an imbecile, to tell you to get over yourself. Maybe she’d point out that she doesn’t need you to give her permission to keep her hands to herself—that she has full autonomy. Or worse, she’d say something cutting, like how she’d never touch you in a million years, even though she was the one who had grabbed your arm in the first place.
But instead, she laughs.
And it’s not a mean laugh. It’s soft, warm, and unexpectedly genuine, catching you completely off guard.
Not that you were complaining, but
What the fuck is she doing?
————
"What the fuck am I doing?" Tara mumbles to herself.
“That’s what I want to know,” Mindy fires back with a teasing smirk, leaning closer to Tara who was seated across her on the table.
Fortunately for you, soon after you heard the melodic sound of Tara’s laugh that made your brain short-circuit, the bar you were all heading to came into view giving you the perfect excuse not to dwell on it—or, more accurately, to avoid melting into a puddle of feelings. For the first time ever, Tara had laughed because of something you did, and the thought alone made your heart do a happy little somersault.
Upon entering the dive bar, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom while the rest of the group found a table to be seated at. Thankfully, the bathroom was empty, so you were able to think out loud.
“What even is my life right now?” you muttered to yourself as you leaned over the sink with a goofy smile. Catching your reflection in the mirror, your face was beet fucking red. Oh no. Did Tara notice how red you were? You groaned, covering your face with your hands.
How did things change so fast? How had it gone from her hating your guts, calling you Ghostface at every opportunity, and throwing insults your way—barely even sparing you a glance—to this?
Mindy had told you to stop chasing Tara, to ignore her, to let her come to you. You’d managed to stick to that advice for maybe an hour, and somehow, this was where it got you.
Not that you were complaining—oh, you definitely weren’t—but wow, this was a lot to handle. Your heart felt like it might burst from how warm and fluttery it was. Tara was kind of adorable… and terrifying. Mostly adorable. Okay, maybe all adorable.
"Fuck, this girl is going to be the death of me."
————
Outside, Mindy, Chad, and Tara stayed at the table while Sam headed to the bar to scope out the scene.
"Sooo… did I just see you holding Y/n’s arm?" Mindy asked, probing Tara for more answers.
Tara groaned dramatically before dropping her head onto the table with a quiet thud. "Yes," she mumbled, her voice muffled against the surface.
"What the hell happened in the two weeks we didn't hang?" Chad questions. "You couldn't stand her last time we hung out. And you're pulling the Carpenter rizz?"
"I don’t know!" Tara whined, her words still muffled by the table." Sam talked to me okay? And I guess I was being harsh to Y/n."
"Uh-huh, sure," Mindy replied, her grin widening. "But that still doesn’t explain why you were holding her arm. That’s a huge leap from ‘I hate Y/n, she’s totally Ghostface,’ to... this." Mindy explained, clearly enjoying the situation.
"Unless," Chad cut in, his grin matching Mindy’s as he wiggled his eyebrows, "there was always some hidden feelings under your 'supposed' hatred for her..."
Tara’s face shot up from the table, bright red as she glared at them. "There are no hidden feelings!"
Mindy gasped, clutching her chest like she’d uncovered a scandal. "Oh my God, there totally is! Admit it, Tara—you’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time!"
"Absolutely not!" Tara protested, her voice climbing an octave.
"You have," Chad teased, leaning closer with a conspiratorial whisper. "And you loved it."
Tara groaned again, hiding her face in her hands, as Mindy and Chad erupted into laughter.
"Shut up!" Tara muttered, but the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips betrayed her completely. She sighed, trying to compose herself. "I don't like her like that, okay? She was just ignoring me today, and... I guess it sucked not having her care about me like she usually does," she mumbled, hoping the explanation would get the twins off her back.
"Yeah, that makes sense," Mindy replied casually to Tara’s surprise. Well, that was easy.
But then Mindy smirked, leaning back in her chair. "So, it shouldn’t bother you that Y/n’s getting hit on at the bar right now, huh?"
Tara froze. "What?" she snapped, whipping her head around so fast it was a miracle she didn’t pull something. Her eyes darted frantically toward the bar. "Where is she?"
The brunette turned back around so Mindy could answer her, and that’s when she realized—she’d walked right into her trap.
Mindy burst into laughter, slapping the table. "Oh my God, you’re so obvious!"
Tara frowned and crossed her arms as Chad joined in on the laughter, both of them clearly enjoying how flustered she’d become.
————
You finally leave the bathroom once you feel like you can function like a normal human being again. It doesn’t take long to spot your friends at their table—sometimes, you swear you have a built-in Tara radar, always able to sense exactly where she is.
As you make your way over, your eyes are drawn to her, bathed in the soft red glow of the bar lights. She looks stunning, her features highlighted by the warm hue. She’s speaking animatedly to the twins, her hands flying up to cover her face in between bursts of conversation, a mix of shyness and excitement that makes her even more captivating.
Sometimes you wish you weren't the awkward human you were, and met Tara in better circumstances. A world where Ghostface didn't exist as well. Maybe then—maybe then you two could be something?
Your heart leapt at the thought. And you felt almost guilty for thinking the way you do. You never wanted it to seem like you only treated Tara with kindness because you had some sort of ulterior motive. It made you feel guilty. But it was getting difficult denying it any further. Maybe it was seeing her in this setting, so relaxed, so beautiful—maybe it was her touch and words earlier that sealed your fate.
But all you wanted right now was to slide into that booth beside her, feel her hand on your arm again, and be the person she could lean on.
You really liked Tara.
And you also really needed a drink.
————
"Okay, hold on—help me out here," Mindy says, holding her hands up. "If you do have some kind of interest in her, then why, and I say this with love, were you such a massive dick to her?"
Tara groans, letting her head drop back dramatically against the booth. "I wasn’t trying to be! It just... happened," she mumbles, rubbing her hands over her face, as if she could wipe away the embarrassment. "I don’t know, okay? She just gets under my skin. She’s so infuriatingly... nice. And smug. And—"
"Hot?" Chad offers with a teasing grin, earning a glare from Tara.
"I wasn’t going to say that!" Tara snaps defensively, though the red creeping up her neck betrays her.
Mindy snorts. "Oh, sure. That’s why you grabbed her arm like she was the last person on Earth. Real subtle Carpenter."
Tara exhales hard, crossing her arms and slouching down in her seat. "I didn’t plan that, okay? She was ignoring me. I didn’t like it. And I panicked."
Chad raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with that smug big-brother energy. "Sooo, you panicked and held her arm? You panic-flirted?"
"I did not panic-flirt!" Tara protests, sitting up straighter, her voice pitching higher with frustration.
"You so panic-flirted," Mindy grins, leaning closer. "Face it, T. You’ve got it bad. I mean, you did just admit you didn’t like her ignoring you. That’s classic 'please-pay-attention-to-me' behavior."
Tara opens her mouth to argue, but freezes. She can’t deny that part—because it’s true. Too true. She didn’t like the way you’d suddenly stopped caring, stopped looking her way like you always did. It left her feeling... off-balance.
"Fine," she mutters, looking away as her fingers trace patterns on the table. "Maybe I didn’t hate it when she cared."
Chad and Mindy exchange a glance before turning back to her with matching smirks.
"Uh-huh," Mindy drawls. "And maybe you didn’t hate holding her arm."
Tara groans again, sinking lower into the booth like she could disappear into the cushions. "I really need you both to shut up right now."
"Why am I getting interrogated? And more importantly, where are the drinks? Sam? Y/n?"
"Wouldn't you like to know."
————
You weave your way through the crowd, finally making it to the bar, where you flag down the bartender and order a drink—something strong to calm the storm brewing inside of you. Taking a seat, you take a deep breath, letting the hum of the bar settle around you.
"Another round," a familiar voice says beside you, and you turn your head to find Sam, casually gesturing for the bartender to line up several drinks. You blink, surprised.
"Sam?" you ask, brow furrowing. "What are you doing?"
Sam doesn’t look at you as she responds, eyes focused ahead, her tone completely serious. “Mourning.”
You stare at her, processing. “Mourning?” you repeat, confused. “Who… who died?”
Sam finally turns to you, expression deadpan. “My baby sister.”
You freeze, mouth opening slightly as your brain short-circuits. “Tara? Tara died?” you ask, voice rising in disbelief as you whip your head toward the booth where Tara is very clearly alive and animated, still talking to the twins.
Sam sighs dramatically, shaking her head. “Not literally. Spiritually. She’s about to get into her first relationship.”
Your face contorts into the human equivalent of the surprised Pikachu meme. “Her what now?”
Sam gives you a look, like you should already know. “Oh, don’t play dumb. You’re the relationship.”
You nearly choke on your drink, sputtering. “Me?!”
“Yes, you,” Sam replies matter-of-factly, grabbing one of the drinks the bartender sets down but not leaving just yet. She leans against the bar, eyeing you like she’s assessing your soul. “And don’t make that face. You’re the one she’s been all smiley and weird about lately.”
You blink at her, utterly lost. “Smile-y? Weird? What—Tara doesn’t even like me like that.”
Sam raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, really,” you insist, though your voice wavers slightly.
Sam just smirks, sipping one of the drinks slowly. “You’re even worse at lying than you are at hiding how red your face is right now.”
Your hand flies to your cheek like you can stop the blush burning there. “It’s the bar lights!” you blurt defensively. “They’re red. They make everything red.”
"But I'm not lying I swear! She hates me remember? I'm supposedly Ghostface?" You ramble, trying to jog Sam's memory, because what in the world is she talking about. Tara likes you?
Sam chuckles under her breath, shaking her head. “You’re a mess.”
“Thanks,” you mutter, sinking further into yourself before glancing up at her. “But seriously… what do you mean me? I thought you were mourning because of some jerk she’s into—”
“Oh, I still think you’re a jerk,” Sam interrupts, though there’s a teasing glint in her eye now. “But you’re a tolerable one.”
You blink again, confused. “I’m… tolerable?”
“For now,” Sam confirms, narrowing her eyes at you in a way that makes you feel like you’re back in high school, being questioned by a teacher. “But listen to me, Y/n—I don’t care how flustered you get or how much you like her, I’m watching you. If you so much as make her frown, I’ll know. You’ll regret it.”
The seriousness of her tone makes you sit up a little straighter, but there’s still something soft in the way she says it—like, beneath the overprotective big-sister act, Sam really does care.
“I wouldn’t do that,” you say quietly, surprising even yourself with how genuine you sound. “I’d never hurt her. Ever.”
Sam studies you for a long moment, like she’s trying to read the truth straight from your eyes. Finally, she gives a small nod, satisfied. “Good. Because she deserves someone who looks at her like she’s the best thing to ever happen to them.”
Your heart stutters at her words, and you look down at your drink, trying not to smile too obviously. “I already do,” you admit softly, almost to yourself.
Sam pauses, her expression softening ever so slightly. “Yeah. That’s what worries me,” she mutters, more to herself than to you, but before you can ask what she means, she straightens up. “Now come on. I’m not carrying all these drinks by myself.”
You blink up at her, still a little dazed by the conversation, but you quickly grab a couple of glasses and stand up to follow Sam back toward the table.
But as you rose, the sudden sound of shattering glass and the murmur of rising voices pull your attention toward the commotion. A crowd begins to form in the center of the bar, the tension thickening with every heated word exchanged. It’s only when the circle shifts slightly that you spot her—Tara, her small frame squared off against a guy who looks a little too angry for the situation, and a girl glaring daggers at her.
You and Sam exchange a glance before rushing over, the protective instinct in both of you kicking in instantly.
“Look, I said I’d buy you another drink,” Tara says, her tone calm but laced with frustration.
“Yeah, well, maybe watch where you’re going next time dumbass,” the guy snaps, his voice dripping with condescension.
“Okay then maybe don’t stand in the middle of the fucking bar like a human traffic cone,” Tara bites back, her words sharper than you’ve ever heard from her.
The guy’s girlfriend steps in, practically seething. “Who do you think you are? Bumping into him like a slut and then acting like it’s his fault? God, you’re so full of yourself!”
Tara rolls her eyes. “Trust me, I do not want your man. This isn’t that deep.”
The guy snickers, leaning closer to Tara. “Yeah, right. With that attitude? You’d be lucky if anyone wanted you.”
You feel your chest tighten with anger, but you force yourself to take a deep breath. You step forward, hands up in a gesture of peace, trying your best not to escalate things.
“Hey, let’s all just calm down,” you say, your voice cracking slightly under the pressure. “I’ll get you a drink, okay? On me. No big deal.”
The guy turns to you, sizing you up before sneering. “Who the hell are you? Her little lapdog?”
That stings more than you’d care to admit, but before you can respond, he takes a step closer to Tara, clearly trying to intimidate her. Tara doesn��t back down, her glare unwavering, but his shoulder roughly “brushes” against hers in what’s definitely not an accident.
The nudge sends Tara stumbling backward, but thankfully, she lands against Sam, who steadies her instantly.
And that’s when all hell breaks loose.
Something snaps inside you, and before you can think it through, your fist is already flying. It connects with the guy’s jaw, sending him reeling back a step. The bar erupts in gasps and shouts as the guy recovers, glaring at you with fire in his eyes.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he growls, lunging at you.
Chaos ensues. Tables scrape against the floor as people back away, forming a wide circle. You’re barely aware of Sam pulling Tara further back, her voice sharp as she tells her to stay put.
The guy swings at you, but you dodge, adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I was trying to be nice!” you shout, your voice somehow still awkward despite the situation. “But nooo, you had to go and—”
His next punch grazes your shoulder, and you retaliate, landing another hit square in his side.
“Y/n!” Tara’s voice cuts through the noise, and for a split second, you falter, glancing in her direction.
That’s all the guy needs to get a cheap shot in, his fist connecting with your stomach. You stumble back, the wind knocked out of you, but you manage to stay on your feet steadying yourself by having your palm planted on a nearby table.
Unfortunately luck wasn't on your side, and the table had a broken bottle on it, the jagged glass slices into your palm. You wince, but thankfully, the chaos around you masks the pain, and no one notices it.
Suddenly, Chad steps in between you and the guy, his broad frame blocking any further blows. “Alright, enough,” he says, his voice firm, but not without a hint of warning. “You don’t want to take this any further bro. Trust me.”
Before the guy can respond, Sam steps in too, her hand flashing a taser from her waistband, her expression icy cold. “I suggest you walk away,” she says, her voice steady and threatening. “Unless you want to leave here with more than just a bruised ego.”
The guy hesitates, clearly debating whether to push his luck. But the bartender steps in then, a burly man who looks like he’s seen his fair share of bar fights. “Alright, that’s enough!” he barks. “You—out. Now.”
The guy glares at you one last time before grabbing his girlfriend’s arm and storming out, muttering curses under his breath.
As the crowd disperses and the bar settles back into its usual hum of activity, you turn to Tara, who’s staring at you with wide eyes.
“You okay?” you ask, your voice hoarse.
She nods, her gaze softening as she takes a step closer to you. “Are you?”
You wince, clutching your stomach. “I’ll live. But, uh, maybe next time, don’t antagonize the guy holding the drink?”
Tara scoffs but smiles faintly. “Maybe next time, don’t throw punches for me.”
Sam snorts, crossing her arms. “No, by all means, keep throwing punches. Just learn to dodge better.”
You laugh weakly, glancing between the two Carpenter sisters. “Noted. So… anyone else need a drink, or is it just me?”
Tara shakes her head, her smile growing, her face red. “It’s just you. But… thanks. For standing up for me.”
Your heart skips a beat at her words, and despite the ache in your hand, you can’t help but smile back. “Anytime.”
You catch Tara glancing at you, her expression softer then ever, and for a moment, she seems to be looking at you like she’s seeing something more than the awkward dork you think you are.
And in that instant, she can’t help but think you're even more amazing than she already knew. But before she can fully process it, Chad suddenly approaches, glancing at your hand, his face faltering in concern.
“Hey, are you good?” he asks, his eyes scanning your hand. “You look like you're in pain.”
You wince, still trying to play it off as no big deal. But Chad catches sight of the blood trickling from the glass cut on your palm, and his eyes widen. "Holy shit, dude, we need to take you to a hospital."
You shake your head quickly, your voice still a little shaky. “It’s just a scratch, really. I’ll be fine.”
But Tara, her brows furrowing in concern, steps forward, and glances at your hand and gasps. “That’s not just a scratch,” she insists, her voice filled with worry. “You’re bleeding bad. Get up—Mindy call an Uber.”
You open your mouth to protest again, "No hospital, I'm fine I just need a first aid kit." Sam steps in with a calm, no-nonsense tone. “On it, I'll ask the bartender.”
Tara, who’s been silently observing the whole time, takes charge. Her voice is soft but firm as she grabs the first-aid kit from Sam’s hands once she rejoins the group. “I’ll do it,” she says, her gaze never leaving yours. “You’ve done enough tonight. Let me take care of you.”
Mindy, who’s been watching the exchange with a smirk, suddenly chimes in, a teasing edge to her voice. “Look at you, Y/n. Who knew you had this much of a protective streak? Tara’s got you all worried, huh?”
You feel your face flush, but before you can respond, Tara shakes her head at Mindy’s comment, her worry deepening. “She’s hurt, Mindy. It’s not funny.” Her voice softens as she turns back to you, “You’re really gonna be okay, right? I— I don’t want you to be hurt.”
You can see how much she cares, and it makes your chest tighten with emotions. Tara’s usually so tough, so guarded, but right now she’s nothing but concerned.
You try to reassure her, even though the tenderness in her gaze makes it hard to keep your cool. “I’m fine, really. You don’t have to worry so much.”
But Tara doesn’t seem convinced, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I can’t help it,” she admits softly, her voice almost a whisper. "I care."
The weight of her words lingers in the air, and for a moment, everything feels a little clearer between you two. Tara doesn’t just care for your safety—she cares about you.
She gently guides you to an empty booth, pulling you away from the noise and chaos of the bar. It’s just the two of you now, in your own little corner of the world. You slide into one side of the booth while she settles on the other, a table separating you, but it somehow feels closer than ever.
The silence stretches between you both, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. You hold your hand out toward her, palm facing up, your fingers trembling slightly from the sting. Tara’s gaze softens when she sees the injury, and with a quiet sigh, she reaches for the first-aid kit.
Her movements are slow, deliberate, as she opens the kit, pulling out antiseptic and gauze. You watch her, your heart pounding for reasons you can’t quite explain. She carefully dabs the cotton swab in the antiseptic, then presses it gently to the cut. You wince, a sharp sting jolting through your palm.
“Sorry,” Tara murmurs, her voice low and soothing. She frowns, her brows knitting together in concentration as she takes more care, dabbing at the wound more carefully this time. “I’m trying to be gentle. You’re not a fan of this whole ‘injured’ thing, huh?”
You chuckle softly, still feeling the burn of the antiseptic. “Nope. Not my favorite thing," your voice coming out a little more awkward than you intended.
"I can't believe a dork like you got in a fight."
You let out a small laugh, trying to hide the fact that her words have made your heart race. “I’m not a dork,” you protest weakly.
Tara raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eye. “Really? Because I could’ve sworn you were about to pass out the second I touched your hand.”
You blush even harder. Tara’s smile is warm, genuine, and it makes the sting of the antiseptic a little easier to bear.
“It’s not the touch,” you mumble, “it’s just... you’re too close.”
She laughs softly, a sound that makes your heart flutter. “Yeah? Guess I’ll just have to keep getting closer, then.”
Her words, teasing as they are, send a warmth rushing through you. You try to play it cool, but inside, you’re an absolute mess. The way she cares for you, even in such a simple moment, makes everything feel... different. It’s like a tiny shift in the air, making you want to stay in this little bubble of quiet with her forever.
Tara looks up at you, the gears turning in her head. Was she being unfair right now? Giving you mixed signals.
She continues cleaning the wound, but now with even more care. She choses her next words carefully not wanting to sour the mood, “I'm really sorry for how I treated you. I think with everything that happened last year, I was scared to let new people in, and so I was wary of you even though you’ve been nothing but amazing to me. I guess I just had my guard up and it was unfair and—"
"I know Tara, I forgive you don't worry," you smile at her. And its pure and genuine, and Tara knows that you mean that whole heartedly.
As Tara finishes bandaging the cut on your palm, she gently flips your hand over to check for any other injuries. Her fingers graze across the back of your hand, and she notices the bruised knuckles. For a split second, she pauses, her breath catching in her throat.
Her eyes linger on your hand—on the faded bruise, evidence of the fight you’d just gotten into—and for some reason, she can’t help but think it’s... hot. The way your hand looks, bruised but still strong, it makes something in her chest tighten. You got into a fight for her.
She quickly shakes her head, trying to push the thought away, but it lingers. What the hell is wrong with me? she thinks, her face flushing slightly. Tara quickly looks up at you, trying to mask her sudden embarrassment with a forced nonchalance. But you're just sat there beaming at her, telling her its okay for how she treated you in the past, that you forgive her.
Suddenly, Tara couldn’t just take it anymore. The way you were looking at her, so soft, so genuine, made her heart flutter in a way she couldn’t ignore. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and then, without warning, she leaned forward, her eyes locking with yours.
“You know,” she started, her voice low and teasing, “Mindy said you were incapable of acting first.”
You blinked, confusion flashing across your face. “What?” you asked, not sure where she was going with this.
Tara smirked, clearly amused. “And that if I wanted something to happen, I’d have to be the initiator.”
You furrowed your brow, still not understanding. “What are you talking about?”
Tara’s smile widened, and she leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping even lower. “I find that hard to believe, given how you just got in a fight for me. I know there’s a little boldness in you.”
Your heart skipped a beat at her words, and before you could even process what she was saying, she added, “But I guess so do I.”
Without warning, Tara reached across the table, her hand grabbing the front of your shirt. You froze, your breath catching as she pulled you closer, her face just inches from yours. Your heart raced as she leaned in, and then—before you could even think—her lips were on yours.
It was soft, tentative at first, like she was testing the waters. But then it deepened, and everything around you seemed to fade away. The kiss was warm, gentle, but there was an undeniable intensity to it, as if she was pouring everything she felt into that moment. Your uninjured hand instinctively reached for hers, feeling the pulse of her heartbeat against your fingertips.
When the kiss finally broke, both of you pulled away, breathless. Tara’s eyes were wide, a soft blush coloring her cheeks as she looked at you, her lips still tingling from the kiss.
You blinked, your mind racing, and then you couldn’t help but grin, a nervous laugh escaping you. “Damn... I should’ve gotten into a fight a lot sooner.”
Tara rolled her eyes, but her smile was all warmth, and you could see in her eyes that there was something deeper. Something unspoken, but undeniable.
Something that was always there.
Taglist: @cobaltperun @machyishere @freakshow2501 @nwestra @mcchicken88 @101rizzlrr @snowdrop1026 @ilovesneezing069 @btay3115 @burntoutghost
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jazzyoranges · 8 months ago
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Introverted
Tara Carpenter x fem!reader
Summary: you’re not much of a talker. that said, your lack of words doesn’t get in the way of meeting your (girl)friend’s sister
Words: 1.4k
A/n: mostly told through the pov of Sam cause i was feeling extra freaky and wanted to do something super crazy and unseen before
Warnings: alcohol consumption, that literally might be it
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Sam was trusting her gut. Her gut said you were good for Tara but her past experiences said you couldn’t be trusted. Luckily she listened to nobody but Tara when it came to you. After all, Sam did promise she’d let sister live her life without her constantly looming over her
So Sam trusted Tara instead. Of course, the older Carpenter sister was still weary of you when her sister wanted you to come over and hang out with the core four, as Chad liked to call them. The name was never officially adopted but nobody ever stopped the boy from calling them that
She’s heard of your name through stories her little sister has told her. Sam was already aware of how you didn’t like talking. You watched and listened, always aware of everything around you. Not to mention you’re scary as shit - Tara’s words not hers. Countless times have there been when a protective arm around Tara’s shoulder and a glare were enough for anyone to back off. Sam’s thought of getting a dog for its scary privileges but it seems her sister already had scary friend privileges
A knock on their door sends Tara running to open it with Sam not too far behind. You were early. Wanted to make a good first impression, Sam guessed
“Thank you for giving her a chance, Sam. this means a lot to me.” Tara gives her sister a quick hug before opening the door. Sam doesn’t expect you to bring a gift as well
You tower over Tara. Maybe it was because you were tall, maybe it’s because her sister was short as shit. There are two wine bottles of a brand Sam’s never even heard of in your hands and Tara gives you a hug while you reciprocate with one arm
“This is for you. Thank you for letting me into your home. Your hospitality is appreciated.” You give a small bow before handing her the bottle. It catches Sam off guard. She didn’t want to admit it but she was already impressed. Or her expectations bar was set at an all time low. Probably the latter
Tara led you to their living room before coming back to Sam
“That was good! She usually only says hello when she meets new people. I think she might’ve said more words to you than Mindy and Chad combined”
“Really not a talker then, huh?”
“Definitely not. Will you open the door for the other two?”
“Yeah I will. Go spend some time with her”
The twins arrive ten minutes late but in their defense they were getting pizza for the night. Mindy almost immediately whistles at the wine you brought and opens it up
Sam finds you and Tara, well, just Tara laughing about something. Her sister said you weren’t much of a talker - not even talking to the twins very much - yet it seemed you were in deep conversation with Tara. Sam’s sister senses were tingling and they were very rarely wrong
The night continues without much falter. Everyone drinks, board games and video games alike are played, and nothing seems to be different. Other than you of course. You were so quiet sometimes Sam forgot you were there in the first place. You had a way of disappearing but always coming back when Tara talked to you. Sam’s sister senses were really tingling
You’d whisper something in Tara’s ear and she’d smile like she’s holding in the biggest laugh ever. Hell, after a few hours (and probably the wine) Sam saw you giving her sister small smiles and tiny laughs of your own. She couldn’t lie, it was astonishingly cute how her usually chipper sister was so amazed by someone so opposite of her.
Even later into the night, your little conversations with Tara seem to stop. It was around the time the twins stopped forcing you to play games and they settled on a movie to watch. Sam watches her little sister as she tugs on your shirt and whispers something in your ear. You nod and before she knows it, you walk out to their balcony that looked over the busy streets
“Why’s she out there?” Sam asks Tara after you’ve left
“She needs to recharge her social battery. Give her some time, she’ll come back”
//-//
You haven’t come back inside their apartment for about an hour, Sam notices
Tara’s accidentally fallen asleep on the couch while Mindy and Chad seem to be binging the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe with a bowl of popcorn cradled in between them. Sam didn’t remember buying popcorn but then again she also believed the twins were somehow magical when it came to food. Popcorn was probably the least of her worries
So Sam took her chance to talk to you. Walking to the sliding door to their balcony, the older Carpenter makes sure to not make any sudden movements. You’re leaning against the metal railing so Sam decides to join you
“You feeling okay? You haven’t come in for a while.”
“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”
Silence passes. Sam hopes it isn’t awkward for you
“(Y/n), I’ve got a question.” Sam doesn’t get a verbal answer but she does get your attention and a nod to keep going
“How’d you meet Tara?”
“Someone was looking at her weird at a party. I scared him off. He was known for not being a good person.”
“You’re observant, huh? That’s a good trait to have.”
“Thank you. I didn’t want her to make a mistake.”
“Thanks for scaring him off.”
“Anyone would’ve done it.”
A few beats of silence pass before Sam talks again. She didn’t expect you to start the conversation, which was alright with her. It gave her more control
“Can I ask you another question?” Another nod from you.
“Tara said you didn’t like talking much. Be honest, am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No. You want to know more about me because you care about your sister.” You pause. “I’m also a little drunk.”
The older Carpenter lets herself laugh. Big sister like little sister, she guesses.
“I like your honesty.”
“There’s no point in wasting breath on a lie.”
“Well, I hope we’ll have more conversations in the future.” Sam gets up from where she’s leaning on the balcony, moving to the door
“Why’re you leaving? I assumed you wanted to ask me more things.”
“You’d be okay with that?”
“The conversations in our future will only be answered by me nodding my head or not. I’m still drinking, you may as well ask now.” Swirling around your wine, you take a long sip. For courage, you know?
“You’ve caught me off guard here. That was all I planned.”
“We can just talk.”
“About?”
“Anything. Maybe Tara. We have her in common.” Your eyes glance back to the younger Carpenter fast asleep on the couch while Chad and Mindy were laughing about god knows what. Sam follows your gaze
Looking at you as you stare at Tara, Sam recognizes that look. She’s seen it before but a little different. It’s how Sam looks at Tara. It was always adoration and protection with the older Carpenter, but for you there was something different. Somewhere in your blank eyes and your monotone voice, you loved Tara. Sam could see it almost clear as day.
“You’re right. We do have her in common, don’t we?”
//-//
“C’mon, it’s not responsible to drink and drive. And I thought you were the one always telling me to be safe”
“I’m not too drunk. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
“Hey, you’re welcome to stay” Sam buts into you and Tara’s conversation. “You can sleep with Tara or I could set up the couch for you?”
“I see. Only if you’re positive I can stay.” You look away before meeting Sam’s eyes. “I’d like to sleep in Tara’s room for tonight. We’ll… keep the door open.”
“No need.” Sam winks before going back to her own room for the night. Fuck that felt weird. She should go to sleep before she tried to be the cool sister again
//-//
“I hope I made a good first impression.”
“Are you kidding? That was great! You did great”
“Thank you. I want Sam to like me.”
“Where was this attitude with Mindy and Chad?”
“They’re knuckleheads. Your sister isn’t.”
Sam’s never been happier the walls of their apartment were like paper. Not much of a talker her ass.
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toma98 · 2 years ago
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My favourite sister duo
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Thank you for letting me go. I knew you could take care of yourself.
MELISSA BARRERA & JENNA ORTEGA as SAM & TARA CARPENTER in SCREAM VI 2023 | dir. Matt Bettinelli-Olpin & Tyler Gillett
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scream-source · 16 days ago
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SCREAM VI dir. Tyler Gillett & Matt Bettinelli-Olpin, 2023
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writing-rat · 1 year ago
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5 Times Tara Needed Help, 1 Time Sam needed Help
Pairing: Sam and Tara, minor Quinn x Tara
Content Warning: Dealing with trauma, Bed wetting, Nightmares, Panic Attack
Summary: Tara needs help 5 times. Sam helps her. Tara helps Sam one time she needs it.
WC: 3135
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i.
It was nighttime in the Carpenter apartment. Quinn was in her room sleeping, Mindy was at Chad’s for the night, watching Stab which Tara refused to do now. Tara and Sam were also in their own rooms. Tara was attempting sleep while Sam stayed up reading, her therapist recommended her to do that. 
One minute it was all silent, the next there was a sudden sound. A scream, coming from Tara’s room. Sam immediately put her book down, having a mental note of the page she was on. She quickly rushed over to Tara’s room, ignoring Quinn as she went inside, and her eyes softened. Tara was curled up, sobbing and covered herself up fully. 
“T,” Sam spoke gently, soon sitting down next to her and rubbed her back. Tara quickly hooked onto her sister, her bottom half suspiciously staying under covers. “I’m here, you’re safe. Everything is ok,” she comforted, trying to get the girl in a comfortable position. Tara whimpered as the blanket was taken off, a wet patch visible. “Oh honey, want to shower while I sort this out?” she asked.
“No!” Tara shouted embarrassed. “It’s just… water,” she mumbled out. 
“Ok… you know it’s ok? It’s normal after trauma, it’s how your body responds to it,” Sam explained, Tara listening intently. Tara soon got up, not caring if her sister was in the room. She just stripped off her pyjama trousers, not wanting the wet feeling. Sam did turn around immediately as she grabbed Tara’s towel and handed it over with a batch of clean pyjamas. Tara felt happy her sister did that, but embarrassed. What 19 year old wet the bed?
Soon after her shower, she walked out and was greeted by Quinn who was giving her some water and smiled gently. “Here. It usually helps me after a nightmare,” she spoke. “Sam also left some of your favourite foods in your room,” Quinn added on. 
Tara smiled at that, thanking Quinn. She proceeded to pop her head in Sam’s room. “Thank you Sammy… is it ok if I sleep in here tonight when I’m done eating?” she asked nervously, expecting a no.
“Of course you can. My room is always open,” Sam comforted with a smile. Tara grinned and nodded as she went to her own room, drinking and eating. 
That’s when they started to cuddle every night, and that lessened the bed wetting. It would continue when alone, and even sometimes when Tara was with Sam, but Sam always helped her out. She would be there for her sister.
ii.
It was daytime in college, and Tara had left her creative writing class. She needed to go on a walk, as they were talking about trauma. She still refused to believe she had trauma after all. She was sighing as she was just wandering around the block, glad her teacher had allowed her to just… take a break. The embarrassing nights did take a toll on her, and she had had 3 accidnets that week. It was only Friday. 
She was soon thinking of going to the bathroom to text Sam quickly to ask if she was ok knowing she would be leaving her therapy session about now. She proceeded to clutch her phone as she texted Sam. ‘You ok?’ it read. It was seen immediately and the speech bubble popped up. She was soon going into the bathroom, not realising 2 stalls were occupied. 
‘I’m doing better, therapy with Mary is helping more!’ Sam texted back. Tara hit back a grin as she was about to enter a stall. 
‘That’s good’ she typed out, before she was suddenly grabbed. The other door was kicked open and there someone was standing in a Ghostface costume, with the same knife that Amber had. 
Her breath immediately stopped as she was thrashing, trying to scream. Her mouth was covered though and the other arm of her attacker was around her waist so she couldn’t move whatsoever. She let out a small sob as she was trying to get Siri to call 911. Due to the muffling it didn’t worke. Her heart sank. She was struggling to breathe now, before a third person stood up from the final stall and showed he was recording. 
“Good going,” he grinned out. “Hope you enjoyed our prank Tara,” the voice spoke before all 3 took off their masks. Tara recognised them from Chad’s course, still struggling to breathe. That’s when they all realised how serious it was. They all looked at each other as Tara was going to a corner, putting her head inbetween her legs, sobs slipping out. 
“Shit, we should go,” the holder spoke before running out. All 3 boys did. That’s when Tara looked at her phone screen, seeing Sam had texted her. She saw she accidentally sent a voice recording, and was panicking more, clutching her neck, reading the messages Sam sent. 
She thought she was being attacked again, that Ghostface was back. 
The other messages consisted of:
‘Are you ok?’
‘Tara?’
‘If you don’t text back in 20 seconds I will be coming’ 
Tara decided to respond then. ‘Pnix atxk. Cnt breth’ was the response as she was struggling. She was sobbing at the same time which didn’t help. 
After 5 minutes, Sam arrived and was searching for her sister. It only took 2 minutes before she was there, next to Tara and held her gently. “It’s me Princess. Breathe with me,” she spoke gently. Tara looked st her before she started to breathe with her sister and was soon able to breathe. 
“Thank you Sammy,” Tara mumbled out, cuddled up to her sister. 
“It’s no problem. Want to go home?” she asked gently. Tara nodded as she was going non-verbal. Sam nodded as she picked up Tara, cradling her as she was taking her to her class. She sat her down quickly then grabbed Tara’s bag. The teacher nodded as he understood immediately and was setting a task before he went to Sam.
“Is she ok? Do you want me to send her the notes tonight?” he asked quietly. Sam nodded with a gentle smile. “Thank you,” she responded quietly, then left with Tara, wondering what happened.
iii.
Screaming. Cheers. Talking. That’s all that she could hear. The fairground was busy and Tara had forgotten her headphones. She was with Sam, Chad, Mindy, Quinn, Ethan and Anika at least. She was looking around as she was with Quinn as of current. She was holding her hand, ignoring the scratching feeling. She knew the sounds, the brightness and the touch wasn’t helping. But she wanted to be normal, so she would suffer. Of course Quinn noticed, but knew not to ask just yet until Tara was looking at her desperately. 
Quinn looked around before seeing a darkened spot and took Tara over there, knowing she was getting a little overstimulated. “Where are your headphones hon?” she asked quietly. “Home… I forgot them,” she whimpered out and was looking down as she was covering her ears slightly. Quinn nodded. “Let’s stay here for a bit then, hm?” She responded. Tara nodded and tucked herself into a corner, starting to go non-verbal and rock herself to try and calm herself. Evidently it wasn’t working, and Quinn knew Tara needed to go home. She was getting more and more stressed as she was also starting to cry. “I’m going to get Sam, ok?” Quinn spoke gently. Tara nodded. “Stay here. And borrow these,” Quinn added on and handed over some of her wired earphones then quickly left the side and looked for Sam. It took about 2 minutes before she saw Sam looking around worriedly, holding her phone. “Sam!” Quinn called out. Sam quickly looked over then rushed over to her. “What’s up? Is Tara ok? Where is she?” she asked as she was pacing about.
“She’s having a sensory overload. She isn’t ok obviously and she’s in a small side nook, I can take you there,” Quinn spoke as she was leading Sam to her sister. Sam followed quickly before she went to Tara’s side and sat next to her, not touching her. 
“I’ll leave you and Sam alone now. If you need me, call or text me babe,” Quinn spoke. Tara nodded before Quinn left, putting her phone on sound.  
“Come on, let’s get you home,” Sam spoke quietly. Again, Tara agreed and stood up, keeping her hands over her ears. “Is it ok if I just touch your wrist to lead you with me to the car?” Sam asked, wanting her consent. Tara handed an arm over to Sam, who led her out. She proceeded to steer Tara out of people’s ways before she was walking over to the car. Tara immediately got in, as she was curled up in her seat. Sam buckled her in, making sure it wasn’t too tight before she got in the driver’s side and put her own seatbelt on. She soon drove away. 
10 minutes later they were at the apartment and Tara was being led up the stairs. Danny, who was picking up take out. He smiled at Sam, who smiled back quickly before she was taking Tara upstairs. Tara was making a mental note of it as she was closing her eyes as the lights were too bright, and the smell of the food was making her feel sick. Sam noticed and quickened her pace. She unlocked the door quickly to which Tara rushed over to Sam’s bedroom and hid under the covers. Sam let her be alone as she sat on the couch, putting the TV on quietly. After 1 hour, Tara slowly walked out and went over to the couch, earmuffs still over her ears. She then curled up into Sam’s side, and Sam noticed how Tara was only wearing some boxers and one of her tank tops. She just stayed there.
She would always protect her sister, no matter what.
iv.
Wednesday, after classes. Tara was exhausted and it was dark. Christmas was coming after all. She unfortunately was having to walk in the dark this time, Sam being in therapy at this time. Mindy and Anika were on a date while Ethan, Chad and Quinn were shopping. She was yawning as she walked, putting on her Sony headphones. She was soon starting to nod her head to the music, smiling gently as she was not aware of her surroundings. Her medication for her PTSD was working after all. She was soon aware of her surroundings however when she was suddenly grabbed after she passed an alley. She let out a scream before her mouth was covered and she was punched hard against the head. A small whimper came out.
She tried to see who was attacking her, but they were wearing a mask, one she was familiar with. It was a Ghostface mask. She got tears in her eyes immediately as she thrashed about, trying to get away. She bit the hand, hearing a grunt of pain. “Quinn! Sam!” She called out before she was pinned down against the ground, her head pushed into a puddle as the guy on top was immediately starting to punch her head and was soon undoing his zipper, thankful it was getting darker and darker early on. Just as he was about to undo his button, he was hit around the head with a metal pipe, getting knocked out immediately. “Tara, you ok?” Sam asked. Tara had rolled over, taking in the air as she was shaking her head, tears streaming out of her eyes. Sam proceeded to keep the other guy down, having called the cops. “Thank you for texting me when you could,” she spoke. Tara nodded. “You was all I could think about texting. You was the closest,” she admitted as she was rocking herself. 
Once he was arrested, Sam was driving Tara to the house. Tara stuck around Sam however, not getting away as she was thinking of what had happened. “Should I tell Quinn?” she asked Sam nervously. Sam glanced over as she was looking at parking spaces.
“Only if you want to,” Sam comforted as she was rubbing her shoulder before she parked up. “You want take out tonight?” Sam asked as she was wanting to treat her sister as she had just been assaulted after all. 
“Dominos?” she asked as she was undoing her seatbelt, wanting to take her clothes off and shower and change. 
“Whatever you want,” she spoke with a smile. Tara nodded. 
“Vegetarian pizza from Domino’s please,” she spoke as she was getting out the car and towards the door. Sam was quickly following as she was chuckling and nodded. 
“Anything for you,” she spoke as she was rubbing Tara’s back gently, both sisters going upstairs.
Once Tara was showered and changed, albeit still feeling dirty, Mindy, Chad and Quinn were back. Tara went to Quinn’s side and kissed her cheek as Sam smiled gently at Tara. 
Tara proceeded to tell Quinn what happened, Tara had to stop Quinn from grabbing a knife to kill the guy. Sam meanwhile was secretly advocating for it.
v. 
Mindy, Chad and Anika were having a sleepover at Chad’s apartment, while Quinn was staying at a friend's house for a project. This left Sam at the house, except she was working till late, then had a date with Danny. This left Tara alone, and she was thankful. She had been wanting to relapse for a while now but could never. Someone was always in the house. 
Now though, she was alone, and she was thankful for that. She did a double check around the apartment however before she pulled the curtains down and was sighing. She then got to the kitchen and grabbed a knife before she went to the bathroom. She then proceeded to lock the door, stripped down and went into the shower and started the water.
She was soon letting out a breath, looking at the knife. A sick smile grew on her face before she was toying with the sharp edge with her finger, ignoring the blood running down her thumb. She smirked as she was soon starting to get her left wrist out. She watched as she dragged it across her wrist, letting out a shiver of delight as she felt better than before. She made several more cuts, feeling the pain, watching the blood drip to the water where it went into the drain. She was soon done as she was stopping the water.
She jumped when she heard the door. “Tara? I’m home!” she called out. 
“Don’t you have a date with Danny?” She called back, biting her lip as she grabbed the medkit.
“Yep, but he had to cancel at the last minute with work,” she spoke as she was closer to the bathroom now. 
“I see!” Tara called out as she quickly sorted herself out and got out of the bathroom. 
She forgot the knife. 
She didn’t realise until it was too late, when Sam was already in the bathroom. She then put her head down on the pillow as she was prepared for Sam to come in. That’s when there was a knock on the door. “Can I ask why there is a knife in the bathroom?” She asked. Sam wasn’t dumb, she knew why. 
“Protection,” she offered weakly.
“Really?” Sam asked, then went next to her. “You can tell me the truth, you know? I… if it is what I am thinking then I know what it is like,” she spoke. Tara looked up, widening her eyes.
“You used to self harm too?” she asked quietly. Sam nodded.
“Yeah… it was a while ago,” she spoke gently and slowly
lifted her shorts up, revealing the scars. Tara hugged Sam.
“Let me help you,” Sam comforted. Tara nodded. She would need it after all…
vi. 
Sam was walking down the street, hands shoved in her pocket. She had just finished therapy and was ready to go on a double date with Tara and Quinn being the other couple. She would be with Danny respectfully. She was sighing as she was thinking, unaware of her surroundings. She was soon starting to hurry her pace once she checked the time. She was aware of all the stares she got, she was the daughter of a killer and she also had killed someone. She hated Gale for weaponising her, but she also understood why she had made the story. She did have a right to be upset though.
What she was unaware of was a guy behind her, at least until her elbow was grabbed. She quickly punched who touched her and was not surprised to see the sneer. “Psycho,” the boy spoke. His friends were behind, it was clear he was showing off
“When you touch someone without consent, you should expect them to fight back,” she retorted before she was going away again. That’s when her ass was spanked. 
“No wonder Richie wanted you,” he spoke cockily. Sam growled. 
“If you don’t get away, I am not afraid to hurt you,” she warned. The boy just tilted his head and got closer.
Sam immediately pushed him away then was trying to walk away again, this time turning her phone on and recording. “Awww, is psycho girl scared of the law?” he taunted and gripped her shoulder. 
She was about to fight back when a small ball of fury ran past Sam and punched the boy in the face. It was Tara. “Leave her alone,” Tara warned. Danny was behind Sam then and gently wrapped his arms around her waist. Quinn was soon next to her girlfriend. 
“We don’t need you here,” Quinn added on. The boy, not outnumbered, scampered away like a mutt with his tail between his legs. His friends teased him.
“Want to just go home and eat there?” Danny asked gently. Sam shook her head. 
“No. I can’t be scared of anyone,” she spoke before she was walking to the planned cafe. The other 2 girls soon followed as they were going to protect Sam. 
That night, when Quinn fell asleep on the couch on Tara and Danny went home, Tara went to Sam’s room and knocked on the door. “Come in,” she heard Sam call in. Tara then opened the door and walked in.
“Are you ok?” Tara asked Sam, who was withdrawn from the harassment. That’s when Tara saw the tears in Sam’s eyes. 
“I’ll be fine if we have each other,” she then spoke, trying to not cry still. Tara nodded.
“We will protect each other,” she reassured. 
That’s how they ended up cuddling all night. Sure, both of them were fucked in some way or another, but they all had each other. The 2 sisters definitely needed it.
8 notes · View notes
iateyourparents · 1 year ago
Note
hello! could you write johnnie guilbert fluff? maybe a scenario where him and fem!reader are spending a day together (filming a video, doing random stuff) just being two people in love and jake and tara tease them and call them a married couple
deaf, mute and blind | j.g.
pairing: johnnie guilbert x fem!reader
summary: you, johnnie and jake are recording a new challenge video.
warnings: use of y/n, bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry but english isn’t my first language)
an: hi, thank you <33 hope you like it!
pictures are from pinterest :)
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“Hi guys, it’s me, Tara, and today I’m here with Jake, y/n and Johnnie.” Tara introduced you and you all waved to the camera.
“Hi!” you greeted her viewers.
“Today I’m gonna torture my guests… No, but I wish.” she pouted and you all laughed “Today, my guests will be playing into deaf, mute and blind but…they will have many challenges and quests to do throughout the day. But they main goal is to do shopping and bake me cookies! Any words guys?”
“I hope I get deaf, cause I don’t think I can go much longer with them talking.” you rolled your eyes looking at Jake and your boyfriend.
“Hey!” Johnnie gasped pretending to be offended, placing hand on his chest “That hurt love.”
You only rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that was forcing its way onto your face.
“Alright, so now they will draw sticks and get to know what senses will be taken from them!” Tara showed her viewers three sticks and then she turned to you “Ladies first.”
You took the one in the middle and immediately looked at written words.
“Yeah! I’m deaf today!” You did a little winning dance. Next one choosing stick was Johnnie and he got mute.
“Oh, so I will be blind.” Jake stated “That’s good actually, at least I don’t have to look at your ugly faces.” he smirked and you laughed.
Tara handed you all your things - blindfold for Jake, duck tape for Johnnie and earphones for you.
“Let me also add, that the person who won’t do the most of their mini challenges, has to take a cold shower on the street!” Tara smiled mischievously.
“Is this enough to charge her with domestic abuse?” Jake asked kind of scared.
When everyone was ready Tara started talking to the camera and you could only guess she was explaining to people what you gonna do and not long later Johnnie took your hand to let you know you were going out. You both helped blindfolded Jake to the car and Tara drove you to the nearest store.
She turned on the camera and pointed it at you and Johnnie. You didn’t see anyone talking so you decided to speak “I think Tara already told you guys but we’re making cookies so now we have to find all of the needed ingredients.” you informed and Tara pointed the camera to Johnnie who was gesturing towards some alley. He took your hand and started dragging you there with Tara going behind you but you suddenly stopped, remembering something.
You quickly turned around and jogged to Jake to walk him to Johnnie and Tara. He said something that made Tara laugh and Johnnie’s arms shudder in a silent laugh.
You really started to regret wanting to be deaf one, because not hearing anything yet seeing it, made you frustrated. Also, not hearing Johnnie made you kinda sad. But atleast you listened to your favorite songs.
You all went to grocery alley where Jake gave you his phone so you and Johnnie could find all ingredients for cookies.
Tara was pointing the camera on you all the time and you decided to speak from time to time in case she and Jake weren’t saying anything.
“So we will be doing chocolate chip cookies. Or rather we will be trying to instruct Jake to do it without hurting himself or poisoning us.” you felt a light push on your shoulder and you laughed seeing how Jake was struggling with trying to not miss your form while hitting.
Johnnie swatted Jake’s hand when he tried to hit your shoulder again and side hugged you while looking for flour.
“Johnnie, we need flour for cakes, this one is for bread.” you told him and he gave you a ‘what the hell’ face and you knew that if he could talk and you hear, he would be asking about the difference.
“Alright, I think we got everything.” you stated when you found everything and you all went to cashier’s stands where everyone was looking at you like at idiots, but that wasn’t anything new with Johnnie and Jake.
Tara quickly paid when it was yours turn and you and Johnnie walked Jake to the car.
When you were at home you quickly started to prepare kitchen for your baking.
Suddenly, you felt someone tugging gently at your arm and you saw Johnnie pointing ahead of you. You saw Tara pointing the camera at you all and you took it as a clue to start talking.
“Alright, so now we will be trying to instruct Jake how to make cookie dough, wish us luck!” you smiled sarcastically.
You somehow were cooperating well, Johnnie was showing you the recipe and you were reading it for Jake who then with your and yours boyfriend help were making most of the work.
When cookies were in the oven you didn’t have anything better to do so you sat on the floor in front of the oven and you were just looking at the cookies.
Some time later Johnnie joined you, sitting next to you and placing his head on your shoulder. You hugged him into your side and he gladly snuggled into you, kissing your shoulder.
You sat there for a few minutes, when Tara came to you with a camera and some bowl and told something to Johnnie and then showed you her phone, where she wrote in the notes that now you will be doing random challenges before you could take the cookies out from the oven. It would decide who is the loser of the video.
You all stood in the living room and Tara came to you with the bowl and you took one piece of paper.
“I’ve got ‘activity without your sense’” you read it for them and viewers out loud and then showed the piece of paper to the camera.
Moment later Tara gave you another paper, which turned out to be an instruction what your activity was.
“So I have to call a random contact and try to have normal conversation with that person. That will be hard.” you sighed “Can Johnnie and Jake help me? Like by gesturing?” You looked at Tara and she only nodded.
You looked at the camera and smiled “I’m actually kinda scared that they will gesturing wrong things and I will make a fool of myself.” you laughed and you could see Tara snorting.
Your challenges were done, it wasn’t that bad or at least you were hoping so.
Then you took the cookies out of the oven and tried them when they weren’t hot. They were really good.
“Teamwork makes a dream work, i guess.” you smiled at the camera.
Then you could finally take off the earphones and you were never as grateful for hearing Jake and Johnnie as now.
“God, it’s so good to hear people again. I missed your voice.” you told Johnnie who smiled widely at you and kissed your cheek.
“I’m glad to see again, but I’m scared of how many bruises I’ve got today.” Jake laughed while still trying to get use to the light in the room.
“Alright guys, they made it.” Tara smiled at the camera “I can’t with how cute y/n and Johnnie were today. Literally goals. You were like and old married couple.” she giggled and you smiled.
“So, who’s the loser?” Jake asked after few minutes.
“You Jake.” You laughed “You didn’t do any of your challenges correctly.”
“That’s true.” Tara smirked “You will do your punishment later.”
You stopped recording for some time so Tara could get all of the needed things for Jake’s punishment, so you and Johnnie went to sit on the couch while hugging.
“I really missed your voice today.” you admitted again quietly.
“And I missed talking to you.” he smiled “And kissing you.” he kissed you.
2K notes · View notes
worldlxvlys · 10 months ago
Note
A CHRIS X READER THAT IS POC I BEG YOU ON MY HANDS AND KNEES BUT YK HOW THEY DID THAT COLLAB WITH SAM AND COLBY, TARA, JAKE, LARRAY AND JOHNNIE
BUT DURING THE COLLAB CHRIS WAS BEING REAL TOUCHY WITH THE READER LIKE WHEN SHE BENDS OVER HED PUT HIS HANDS ON HER CROTCH BUT NB SEES IT AND THEY EVENTUALLY F*CK PLS
last time
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chris sturniolo x poc! reader
warnings: smutttt, p in v, cursing, unprotected sex, cream pie, choking, poc! reader, sexual jokes
a/n: writing for this friend group was so funnn
enjoyyy<33
“wait, ok chris! let me get up!” i exclaimed, laughing as chris squeezed his arms around me tighter.
we were currently at the triplet’s house with his brothers, jake, johnnie, tara, larray, sam, and colby.
when the entire group agreed we were hungry, i offered to make us something.
“so, what’s on the menu?” colby asked, eyebrows raised as he clapped his hands together excitedly.
“nothing, if chris doesn’t let me get up to make it” i spoke, causing him to glare up at me and squeeze me even tighter.
upon hearing the words, the entire group yelled at chris to get off of me, the hunger beginning to make them cranky.
“fine” he grumbled as he let go of me, allowing me to stand up.
i began to make my way to the kitchen when tara spoke up, “wait! i’ll help you” she smiled as she walked over to me.
once we got to the kitchen, which happened to be just out of earshot from the couch that the rest of the group resided on, she began to speak.
“so, you and chris aren’t together, right?” she asked.
i raised my eyebrows at her suspiciously at the statement, squinting at her. “why?”
she lightly chuckled at that, “i just noticed you guys are really touchy, but i don’t wanna assume anything” she said, raising her hands in defense.
i laughed at the gesture, “no, you’re ok. i don’t know what we are, honestly. i mean, we’re really close, probably closer than friends should be. but, neither of us are ready for a relationship, you know?”
it was true, chris and i had done some questionable things for just being friends.
it’s not like we had sex often, we just happened to get caught up in the moment once or twice.
…and a few times after that…. and a few more after those times.
but other than that, we had a completely normal friendship.
we were both aware of each other’s feelings, but we were content with where our relationship was at.
why risk messing everything up when we’re both happy ?
“so you guys don’t want to be in a relationship, you just want to act like you’re in one?” she pointed out, “that logic seems a bit flawed to me”
“you do have a point, but honestly? change is scary, and i’m not willing to completely dismantle mine and chris’s relationship because i got greedy” i spoke.
she tilted her head, squinting her eyes, “is that not what you’re doing right now?” she deadpanned. “you’re not worried that fucking around will ruin your relationship first?”
my eyes widened at the statement, “when did i say we were fucking around?” i defended, taken aback at how quickly she was able to figure it out.
“so y’all are? i knew it!” larray joined in, suddenly appearing next to me.
i quickly shushed him, not wanting chris to hear the conversation from his spot on the couch.
“keep your voice down, he’s right there! and where did you even come from?” i asked.
i glanced over to chris to determine whether he had heard the conversation, only to be met with his eyes already on me.
“you think he knows we’re talking about him?” tara whispered to us, catching his gaze on me.
“i don’t know, but girl he’s eye fucking the shit out of you right now” larray told me.
my jaw dropped at his words, a light giggle falling from my lips.
“oh our girl’s getting dicked down tonight” tara joined in.
“y’all have to stop” i spoke, the two collectively laughing at my flustered state.
suddenly, chris got up from his spot, beginning to walk over to the kitchen.
“oh shit, he’s coming over” i whispered to them.
“okay girl, go get your pasta and lobster” larray spoke, beginning to walk away.
“you got this!” tara whispered, walking away with him.
before i knew it, chris stood in front of me, a light smirk growing on his face.
“you guys talkin about me?” he asked, his hands finding their way to my waist.
“no” i denied, despite of us both knowing it wasn’t true.
"mmhm, you tell them how good i make you feel?” he asked as his fingers ran over the skin under my t-shirt.
“chris” i spoke, swallowing harshly.
“how you act all innocent in front of everyone else, but in bed you’re a freak?” he whispered into my ear.
“chris!” i scolded him, lightly slapping his chest. “what’s gotten into you?”
“what do you think? you’re walking around in this skirt, showing off your thighs. all i can think about is shoving my head between them” he spoke, his hands running down my body.
just before they could make their way to my thighs, a voice made us pull away, “you guys are real cute and all, but i’m hungry! chris, please just let her make our food” jake yelled from his spot.
his words caused tara to smack him upside the head, his face contorting into a wince at the feeling.
“what are you making anyway? we have, like, no food in our fridge” matt spoke up.
“oh, i know. i was just gonna make pizza rolls” i answered.
“we don’t have any pizza rolls” nick spoke, brows furrowing in confusion.
“yeah, we do” chris spoke, pulling them out of the freezer, “i bought her some”
i smiled bashfully at the statement, mouthing a “thank you” to chris.
he lightly nudged me with his shoulder in response, a smile of his own growing on his face.
“you two make me sick” colby spoke, “don’t be jealous, it’s not my fault no one buys you pizza rolls” i defended.
his eyes widened at that, taking offense to the words.
“ok, but wait, you said you were cooking something. this entire time i thought you were actually making us a meal” nick said, the group making noises of agreement.
“listen, y’all ! i’m not, nor did i ever claim to be a chef. i don’t know what you thought, but you were wrong” i spoke playfully.
“and nick, you know there’s no food, this is your house. where did you think i was getting ingredients from?” i asked as i placed the pizza rolls on a sheet.
“girl i don’t know, but pizza rolls aren’t gonna fill anyone up, those are like appetizers”
“ok then don’t eat any” i shrugged as i finished emptying the package.
“y’all can order something if you want, i’m really just craving pizza rolls” with that the group began to have a conversation about what they wanted to order.
“i’ll have some of your pizza rolls” chris spoke from beside me.
“good” i smiled up at him, before grabbing the baking sheet to place in the oven.
i bent over, pulling the oven open to place the sheet on the rack.
when my skirt rose up slightly, chris didn’t waist a second in placing his hand on my ass.
he quickly dipped his fingers into my panties, rubbing my heat.
he used his free hand to pull my front half back up, quickly covering my mouth with the palm of his hand.
“hmphhh” i lightly moaned into his hands, as his fingers explored my wetness, collecting my arousal on his fingers.
before i knew it, his fingers left my body, as he turned me around to face him.
he placed his fingers, which were now coated in my juices, into his mouth.
i watched intently as his tongue swirled around each finger, lapping at them like a starved man.
“hm, just needed a taste” he spoke, smirking at my shocked state, “you should probably close that”
“close what?” i asked him as i blinked rapidly, attempting to recover from his actions.
he nodded towards the oven with his head, “i don’t know how well they’ll cook if you leave the door open” he raised his eyebrows at me.
he was having the time of his life right now.
“uh- yeah, yeah you’re right” i spoke as i quickly closed the oven door.
“need some help with that?” chris asked as he stared down at my thighs, which were involuntarily clenching together.
i was doing my best to hold it together, but his actions turned me on far more than i’d like to admit.
“i’m fine” i spoke quickly, hoping he wouldn’t point out the fact that i was obviously lying.
but he, being chris, would never give me the luxury of sparing me from his teasing.
“really? you don’t look fine. you look like you need to be ruined” he whispered into my ear.
“chris, i’m not gonna have sex with you with all of these people in the house”
“really? don’t think that’s stopped you before” he spoke cockily.
“we said that the last time was gonna be it, remember?” i reminded him, placing my hand on his chest.
“yeah, you’re right, we have to stop. so we’re done doing this” he nodded his head at me.
“yup, that’s it. it’s done”
well, it was done. until-
“fuck, chris! yes, yes, yes ! right fucking there, holy shit” i did my best to keep quiet, as chris pounded into me from behind.
“one last time, just one last time” he whispered to himself while he drove himself in and out of me like his life depended on it.
“if this is the last time, i’m gonna make sure you remember that no one else will ever fuck you like i do” he whispered into my ear, chest pressing against my back while my eyes rolled into the back of my head.
“ you got that? can you say it back to me, princess? “
“i- no one, no one will ever fuck me like you do” i heaved out, fisting his sheets as continued to push himself deep inside of me.
“damn right” he rasped, as he gave my ass a slap, eliciting a moan from me.
“god, what did i do to deserve you? you’re so fucking good for me, holy shit” his head fell back as he moaned out.
“you feel so good in me, chris. don’t want anyone else, just you” i spoke back to him.
“yeah? am i making you feel good, baby? that’s all i ever want, just want you to feel good” he whispered, his fingers digging into my waist.
“you always do, baby. always feel so good with you” i moaned back.
my mind grew fuzzy as he went from giving sharp, quick thrusts to slow and deep ones, allowing me to feel every inch of him.
“love fucking you hard, but i gotta show you how much i care bout you” he spoke before burying his nose into my neck.
he placed a sweet kiss to the skin, before pulling it between his lips.
he sucked on the skin until it became darker, making it known that he had been there.
his arms wrapped around my waist, holding me close to his body as his cock stretched out my pussy.
“i don’t- fuck chris, it’s so good” i choked out as he continued to leave kisses against my skin.
“love seeing you like this, all fucked out under me. you’re so fucking beautiful, can’t believe you’re even real” he whispered.
“all yours, chris. you’re the only one who gets to see me like this”
i pushed my hips back into him, grinding on his dick, as he wrapped a hand around my neck to choke me.
“god, oh my-” he whined out his dick twitching inside of me.
“you gonna cum for me, chris?” i asked as i felt myself on the brink of my own orgasm.
“yes, yes, please cum with me” he whispered, head dropping to the crook of my neck as he shot his seed inside of me.
he continued to thrust into me, the coil in my stomach snapping as i coated his cock in my pleasure.
coaxing me through my orgasm, he gave a few more sloppy thrusts, before gently pulling out of me.
“did so good for me” he mumbled, pressing a light kiss to my shoulder.
“was that good ? did i hurt you?” he asked as he went to lay down next to me.
“of course it was good, chris. and i’m okay” i told him, cupping his cheek.
“good, let me clean you up and we can cuddle?” he asked, a grin taking over his features.
“yeah, sounds good“ i spoke as i heard my phone vibrate on chris’s nightstand.
when i opened it up, i was met with unopened text messages:
THE ULTIMATE CROSSOVER ❗️(10 MEMBERS)
matty b 💁🏻‍♂️ 9:01 pm
SHUT THE HELL UP ! WE CAN HEAR YOU ALL THE WAY OUT HERE
nick 👑 9:01 pm
oh great you guys pissed off mat
(i agree w him)
johnnie 🧛🏻 9:02 pm
i’m just waiting for my food
jake 🕸️ 9:10 pm
CHRIS STOP FUCKING AND TELL US WHAT U WANT SO WE CAN ORDER OUR FOOD
tara 👅 9:10 pm
YOU SHOULD’VE GOTTEN IT BEFORE THEY DISAPPEARED TOGETHER
TF WERE U EXPECTING DUMBASS
larray 💅🏽 9:15 pm
🍝+ 🦞
if it’s not snowing she ain’t going y’all
sam 👻🌝 9:34 pm
update: we ate your pizza rolls
colby 👻🌚 9:34 pm
we’re still hungry hurry up
y/n ⭐️ 9:41 pm
MY PIZZA ROLLS ???
FUCK EVERY SINGLE ONE OF U HOES
IMMA FIGHT Y’ALL 🤺🤺
chris 🦌 9:41 pm
oops
my bad guys
nick 👑 9:42 pm
chris come do the walk of shame out here so i can beat your ass 🙂
TARA 🧚🏻‍♀️ 9:20 pm
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🌀🌀🌀🌀
masterlist
tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @sturnssx @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @meg-sturniolo @yamamasjumpercables @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @luverboychris
2K notes · View notes
halfmoonaria · 2 months ago
Text
what i can’t say
pairing: tara carpenter & female reader
summary: tara wants the only person she can’t have, but she’ll do whatever it takes to change that —even if it means risking everything.
word count: 10.7k
author’s note: yall don’t forget to wish me a happy birthday this friday on the 22nd!
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Tara wasn't used to hearing the word "no."
Growing up, she'd mastered the art of getting exactly what she wanted, whether it was a toy, a treat, or just a little more attention.
All it took was a well-timed look, a hint of a pout, or a small scene in a public place—not that she ever felt bad about it. After all, it always worked, and it always felt worth it.
But more than any toy or treat, Tara always seemed to have what she wanted most: you.
Her best friend since... well, since you both were small enough to think scraped knees were the end of the world. You'd been there from the start, the friend who laughed with her, who stood by her through every phase and whim.
Tara didn't have to beg or throw a fit to keep you close. You just were. It was like you were woven into each other's lives, and if anyone asked, she'd say you'd always be there—like you were something she'd managed to keep just for herself.
If anyone asked, Tara couldn't quite recall a time before you.
You were there in every memory that mattered, the friend who understood her quirks, finished her sentences, and knew every dream she'd ever had.
You were inseparable, not just in the way kids cling to each other, but in the way people do when they know they'll never quite find someone who gets them like this again.
You shared everything with your clothes, midnight snacks, and every embarrassing crush you'd ever had.
You laughed together about the silly things you thought were love back then, sharing conversations about who you'd marry someday and who had the best smile.
Although. Tara was always a little quieter during these talks, listening more than sharing, and you never thought much of it. That was just Tara, after all, always keeping a bit of herself back, tucked away in her own mind.
But when it came to your middle school crush, she never missed a chance to tease you, brushing him off as if he wasn't as special as you seemed to think.
She'd laugh and tell you he wasn't as funny as you made him out to be, or that his smile really wasn't anything to write home about.
To you, it was just typical Tara, always finding a way to poke holes in the things you liked.
You didn't notice how her smile faltered when you gushed over him or how her gaze turned a little sharper, though even she didn't fully understand why.
It left her with an uneasy feeling, the kind she could never quite explain, that made her want to change the subject whenever she could.
And as time passed during this time, it seemed like your crush only grew, and so did the way you talked about him.
No matter how many times Tara brushed off your comments or tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, you still lit up whenever his name came up.
Brian.
Brian slipped into conversations almost daily, whether it was about the way he made everyone laugh in class or how he'd held the door for you that morning. And each time you brought him up, Tara felt a pang of irritation she couldn't quite explain.
She never told you how much she despised Brian, but the feeling ran deep. It gnawed at her whenever you mentioned him, and even though she tried to brush it off, she found herself disliking him more and more.
The worst part was, she couldn't understand why. It wasn't like you weren't allowed to like a boy—that was just part of life, after all.
Whenever she hinted at her frustration with her mom, she'd hear the same thing: it was normal, fun even, to have a crush, and Tara would experience it too someday.
But she hadn't. She'd never felt that way about any boy in your grade, no matter how many times she tried to convince herself she should.
It confused her, and in a way, it confused you too. You'd always laughed off the fact that Tara never seemed to "crush" the way you did, teasing her about how she'd figure it out someday.
But whenever you'd gush over Brian, Tara would just sit quietly, trying to ignore the strange knot in her stomach that seemed to tighten with every word you said.
Time went on, and those middle school crushes never quite faded.
Brian only seemed to grow more attractive, transitioning from the shy boy you liked to someone who was effortlessly charming, with a confidence that made everyone notice him.
Back then, you'd have called him "cute," but now, there were new words—hot, gorgeous—terms that made Tara roll her eyes every time they left your mouth.
But you still felt that rush of excitement when he was around, that same giddiness you'd had since you were ten, only now it felt a little more real.
Tara, on the other hand, hadn't changed much when it came to relationships.
While others around you both dated, broke up, and fell in love, she stayed quietly distant, brushing off questions and teasing about why she never seemed interested in anyone.
The truth was, she didn't really know why herself. There was a part of her that felt left out when you gushed about Brian, when your other friends talked about crushes or brought dates to dances. She tried to tell herself that she just wasn't interested yet, that maybe someday she'd feel what everyone else seemed to.
But as the years went by, Tara started to realize that maybe she was different—and she couldn't shake the strange sense of frustration that came with that realization, especially whenever Brian was mentioned.
Somewhere along the way, as high school turned into something more serious, so did her thoughts about you.
Tara didn't want to admit it at first—not to herself, not to anyone. The idea crept up quietly, unexpected and unwanted, like some shadow she couldn't shake.
The way you'd laugh at something silly, the familiar warmth of your hand in hers, or the way her heart would skip when you'd throw an arm around her shoulders. It all made sense now, but it was a sense she desperately didn't want.
When the realization hit her, it was like she couldn't breathe.
There was this tiny voice in her mind that whispered, almost cruelly, You're in love with her. Tara's immediate reaction was to shut it down, to deny it with everything she had. This couldn't be right. She wasn't in love with you.
That wasn't what best friends did. She told herself she was just confused, that maybe it was normal to feel this strongly about someone you'd known your entire life.
But every time she saw you look at Brian—every time you said his name with that sparkle in your eyes—it felt like a punch to the gut, and there was no denying it anymore.
The more she tried to reason with herself, the clearer it became. And that terrified her.
She couldn't let herself feel this way about you. You were her best friend, the person who knew her better than anyone else.
The idea of telling you—of you finding out and looking at her with pity, or worse, disgust—made her stomach twist. She could already imagine the awkward smile, the way you might back away, laugh it off, or even leave her behind. It would shatter her, and she knew that.
And so, she decided then and there that this secret would stay with her.
She'd lock it away, bury it so deep that even she could forget about it someday. Telling anyone—even her parents—wasn't an option.
Not only did she fear their reaction, but she knew they wouldn't understand. To them, you were her friend, nothing more, and the thought of losing you, or of anyone making her feel like her love was wrong, was enough to keep her quiet.
But keeping quiet wasn't easy. The secret felt like it was burning a hole through her, consuming her thoughts and leaving her frustrated in ways she couldn't explain.
She wanted to be around you, but every moment with you felt like a reminder of what she could never have, and it only made the ache grow stronger.
She was angry, scared, and hopelessly in love with the one person she could never tell.
So she became skilled at hiding the depth of her feelings, putting on a mask that had somehow become part of her daily life.
She played her role well, acting like nothing had changed between you both.
At school, she kept her gaze casual, listening to you talk as if she didn't want to lose herself in the way your lips moved.
During sleepovers, she'd lie next to you, forcing herself to focus on anything but the warmth of your arm just inches from hers.
And at parties, now that you were both old enough to go, she'd laugh and dance alongside you, all while pretending her stomach wasn't in knots from the way you looked at her under dim lights, a playful grin lighting up your face.
It was like living with a constant tug-of-war inside her, balancing between wanting to be near you and needing to keep her heart steady.
She'd perfected the art of nonchalance, even when you made it nearly impossible. When you got excited about something—eyes wide, laughing about some small victory—Tara would have to swallow down the urge to reach out, to brush a strand of hair from your face or lean in just a little closer.
The hardest moments were the little things, the 'normal' things, like when you'd give her an easy, carefree compliment, your eyes warm and sincere.
She'd feel the blush rise to her cheeks, and she'd quickly look away or laugh it off, hoping you didn't notice the way her voice wavered.
And when you held her hands, like you always did, squeezing them to give her a little boost of courage, she'd act as though it didn't send her heart racing, as though she wasn't fighting the impulse to hold on tighter.
Every smile you threw her way, every moment you lingered too close, she had to act like it didn't make her insides flip.
She trained herself to respond with that same easy smile, to pretend she didn't feel like the air had been knocked out of her whenever you looked at her like she was the only one in the room.
It was a constant game of pretending, a battle against herself that she had to win every single day.
And as much as she tried to hide it, each touch, each laugh, each simple, familiar look left her more tangled in her own emotions.
She tried to tell herself that these things were just... normal. Friends did these things all the time, she told herself, even if everything in her felt far from normal.
But no matter how many times she told herself that, her resolve was starting to crack. She couldn't help but notice her jealousy flare up when she saw you talking to other people, especially Brian.
Then, one Tuesday at lunch, you dropped a bombshell that flipped her world just a bit more.
She leaned back, half-focused on your conversation with the others at the table, when she saw you walking toward her with a grin so bright it felt like it could light up the whole room.
Tara felt her heart jump at the sight, her thoughts immediately swept into the excitement that was clearly radiating off of you.
You barely took your seat before bursting with excitement. "Tara!"
Tara's smile matched yours, though a part of her already felt a small pang of unease. But she pushed it aside and leaned in eagerly, mirroring your excitement. "What happened?"
You practically glowed as you told her, "He sat next to me in class today." Tara's chest tightened, but she held her expression steady, keeping that casual, easy smile.
She already knew who you meant—you didn't even have to say his name. It was in the way your voice softened, how your eyes sparkled with excitement she rarely saw except when you were really, really happy.
She couldn't stand the sight of it. Seeing you so... in love, so giddy, felt like a punch she wasn't ready for.
You practically glowed, your whole personality seeming to shift as if you were that younger version of yourself again, like back in middle school when every new crush filled you with wide-eyed excitement.
Except now, it wasn't an innocent schoolgirl crush; it was real, and you were already slipping further from her reach with each passing second.
Tara kept smiling, but inside, every bit of her was tangled up in knots.
You'd never look at her like that. Never talk about her with that bubbly, uncontainable happiness. The thought clawed at her, a reminder she could never push away.
She was your best friend, sure, but she'd never be the person who made your cheeks flush or your heart race. And somehow, knowing that made it even harder to keep that same easy smile on her face.
"And?" she asked, hoping her voice didn't betray her, even as she felt a knot forming. She listened as you recounted every word, every laugh you'd shared with him in that class.
Then you dropped the real news, your eyes sparkling. Your grin only widened. "And then, right before class ended, he asked me to go with him to that party next weekend."
Tara's heart sank, yet she barely let the smile slip. She forced herself to open her mouth in surprise, eyes wide, like she was just as thrilled as you were. "Really?" she said, trying to sound as shocked and happy as you seemed, her voice just a bit too bright. "Did you... did you say yes?"
Of course you did. Tara felt stupid for even considering asking you that question.
But you didn't seem to mind, you just nodded eagerly, your whole face lighting up. "Obviously!"
"Oh, wow. That's... that's great, actually," she said, her voice a little too steady, but it was the best she could manage.
Inside, though, she was unraveling. You were actually going with him. It shouldn't have been such a shock—after all, this was what you wanted, right?
But knowing that you'd be there, dressed up, all smiles and laughter... with him... felt like a lead weight sinking in her chest.
She could already picture it, the two of you in some dimly lit room with music thumping, Ethan leaning in close to say something to make you laugh, you smiling up at him like he was the only person in the world.
The thought of it made her throat tighten, her mind racing with feelings she didn't even want to name.
"Are you excited?" she asked, her voice coming out just barely above a whisper. She hoped you wouldn't notice how strained it sounded, how much effort it took just to ask.
You nodded, your smile impossibly bright. "Yeah, I mean... I didn't think he even noticed me like that, you know? But now... maybe he does."
The way you said it—hopeful, almost in disbelief—cut deeper than she wanted to admit. Maybe he does. Those three words stayed in her head, echoing louder with each second.
She was supposed to be happy for you, and maybe part of her was, but mostly, she just felt hollow.
Because even though you'd never know it, she'd been looking at you the way you were looking at him, longing for that same chance to mean something more to you. And now she was faced with the awful reality that she might never get that chance.
Swallowing down the bitterness, she forced a tight-lipped smile. "You'll have a great time, I'm sure."
But even as she said it, a part of her was already wondering if she'd do something she'd regret. The thought of watching you fall for someone else—someone who wasn't her—was more than she could stand.
And as much as she hated to admit it, she knew she'd do almost anything to keep you from slipping away.
Your eyes brightened again. "You should come with us!"
Tara's heart twisted at the invitation, feeling both flattered and devastated. Of course you'd want her there, being the good friend you were—unaware of what it did to her to see you light up over someone else.
Forcing herself to stay casual, she shrugged, managing a small playful smirk. "I'm not exactly great at third-wheeling."
Her voice sounded steady enough, but inside, it felt like she was clinging to the last threads of composure.
She couldn't stand the thought of watching you fall for him right in front of her, yet the idea of saying no, of letting you go without her... that hurt, too.
Maybe if she was there, she could stop whatever was beginning to grow between you and him. Just maybe, she thought, she'd find a way to keep you by her side, where you'd always belonged.
Her mind spun, the smile on her face frozen, all she could focus on was the sinking realization that she might actually lose you.
Until now, she'd convinced herself that her feelings for you were something she could handle, something she'd eventually learn to live with. But now, with Brian's name hanging between you, that quiet acceptance shattered.
She could see the way this might unfold, each painful step already clear in her mind.
She'd watched enough romance movies to know how these things went, and as much as she wanted to push the thoughts away, they crept in, vivid and unrelenting.
First, you'd go to the party together, and maybe he'd make you laugh so much that you'd find yourself leaning in, your hand brushing his.
She could already picture the two of you on future dates—sharing secrets over a quiet dinner or standing too close on some sidewalk, your face lit up in a way that made her stomach twist with envy.
And worse, she could imagine what might happen after those dates, how one day soon he'd reach for your hand, and you wouldn't hesitate to hold his back.
She didn't want to picture it, but the thought seeped into her mind anyway, filling her with a fierce, unfamiliar ache.
The image of you wrapped up in his arms, whispering into his ear, or—even worse—laughing with that same joy you always shared with her, but this time meant for him, made her chest feel hollow.
The thought kept spiraling, her mind betraying her with scenes she couldn't bear to picture.
You, with Brian, alone, closer than she'd ever be, maybe even leaning in for a kiss.
She imagined his hand brushing your cheek, the two of you getting so lost in each other that you forgot everyone else around you—including her.
The jealousy was sharp, hotter than anything she'd felt before.
She hated the way it took over, the way it made her feel small and powerless, like she was losing something that had never even been hers to begin with.
And then, a terrible, aching thought hit her: she might never get to be close to you in that way.
She might never get to be the person who held you, who kissed you, who made you laugh like that.
It wasn't just about watching you fall for someone else—it was the crushing realization that you might never look at her the way you looked at him.
Maybe it would be better if she came along?
The idea took a root in Tara's mind, an unexpected, half-formed plan that both excited and unsettled her.
If she went to the party with you and Brian, it might give her a chance to keep things from moving forward between you two.
She could play it off as tagging along to "keep an eye" on you, to make sure you had fun—and stay close enough to step in if Brian tried anything. It was risky, maybe even a little desperate, but what choice did she have?
At least if she was there, she'd know exactly what was happening. She wouldn't have to lie awake later, imagining him whispering things in your ear, pulling you close, stealing the attention she wanted only for herself.
She could keep you safe from all that, and maybe, if she was careful enough, find subtle ways to draw your attention back to her, where it belonged.
In her mind, it sounded almost justified. A "protective friend" sticking close to make sure you were all right. But the truth simmered beneath that excuse—she knew this was more than friendship, that she wanted to keep you to herself in ways you might never understand.
If Brian was going to try to win you over, he'd have to do it with her there, watching his every move, ready to swoop in the second things started looking too cozy.
And maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to make sure that night ended with you still hers—still looking at her with that easy, trusting smile that had always been her anchor.
Her chest tightened at the thought of it, the chance to stay close to you a little longer, to stave off the reality she dreaded.
If you didn't have the chance to fall for him—if she could prevent that—maybe she'd finally have the time and courage to make you see her the way she saw you.
You nudged her lightly, snapping Tara out of her thoughts, leaning in with that familiar, hopeful smile that always made it so hard to say no to you. "Come on, Tara. It'll be fun—just this once. Please?"
Tara's chest tightened at the way you looked at her, like her answer actually mattered to you. It made something inside her ache, the way your face lit up with excitement, completely oblivious to the storm brewing in her mind.
She should've said no. She wanted to say no.
But the thought of watching you leave without her—without knowing what might happen between you and Brian—made her stomach twist painfully.
And now, thanks to the idea she'd let herself entertain earlier, the thought of staying home didn't feel like an option anymore.
That plan, desperate and reckless as it was, had already taken root, and no matter how much a small part of her whispered it wasn't right, she couldn't let it go.
What if she stayed behind and missed her chance to stop something from blossoming between the two of you? What if she sat in her room, alone, while you fell for him right in front of everyone? The mere idea made her skin crawl.
But going wasn't any better. If she went, she'd have to watch you fawn over him, maybe even see you with him. And that thought was enough to make her want to bolt from the room. Yet here you were, looking at her like her presence actually mattered.
But why? Did you think she needed convincing, or was there some part of you that truly wanted her by your side? Her stomach churned at the thought.
She hesitated, her fingers brushing the hem of her shirt as she tried to keep her expression neutral. If she said no, you'd go without her, and that stung more than she wanted to admit. But if she said yes...
Her mind spun with the possibilities. She didn't even know what she'd do if she went—how far she was willing to take this twisted plan of hers. But what she did know, with a growing certainty, was that she couldn't stay behind. Not when the thought of Brian pulling you closer was enough to make her chest burn with jealousy.
Your face shifted slightly, your brows knitting together when she didn't answer right away.
"Tara," you pressed gently, your voice dipping into that teasing tone you always used when you were trying to coax her into something. "Come on," you pressed again, your grin widening when she hesitated. "You have to come. It won't be the same without you."
It won't be the same without you.
Those words sealed it, though not in the way you meant them to. Something twisted and desperate bloomed in her chest, making her pulse quicken.
You didn't even realize it, but you were giving her exactly what she wanted: a reason to stay close. A reason to be where she could see you—and control what happened between you and Brian.
"Fine," she said at last, forcing a smirk that didn't quite reach her eyes. "But don't complain when I tell you it sucks."
The way your entire face lit up at her answer sent an ache through her chest. Her stomach fluttered against her will, a mix of longing and guilt tangling together in a way that made it hard to breathe. She hated how much it affected her, how happy you seemed just because she'd agreed to go.
She looked away quickly, pretending to focus on something across the room, anything to avoid the way your joy sent another wave of guilt and longing through her.
She knew it wasn't right—none of this was. But she couldn't let it go. Not when her plan had already started to take shape. Not when the thought of Brian having you was enough to make her reckless.
Because no matter how hard she tried to tell herself this was just a party, just a stupid night out, deep down, she knew she wasn't going for the music or the fun.
She was going because if Brian thought he was going to win you over tonight, he was dead wrong.
___
"What about this one?"
Tara looked up from where she was sitting on the edge of your bed, her gaze drawn to the shimmering fabric you held up against yourself. It was a short, fitted dress, one you'd clearly been saving for a moment like this.
The way Tara sat there, watching you flit around the room, sifting through piles of clothes you'd pulled from your closet.
It reminded her of when you were younger, back when the two of you would raid your moms' closets, parading around in oversized heels and dresses that pooled around your feet. You'd giggle uncontrollably, striking exaggerated poses in front of the mirror.
But this wasn't dress-up anymore.
Now, the clothes were your own—real, grown-up outfits that fit you perfectly, accentuating curves and edges Tara wasn't sure she was supposed to notice. It wasn't just playtime; this was your life now. And tonight, you weren't dressing up for laughs or pretend tea parties.
You were dressing up for him.
Her eyes flickered briefly over the dress before settling on your face. You were beaming, the excitement practically radiating off you as you turned to the mirror, holding the dress against your body.
She should've said something. A simple "looks great" or even a teasing "a bit much, don't you think?" would've worked, but the words caught in her throat.
It wasn't the dress—it was the way your whole body hummed with energy, the way your smile was just a little too wide, your movements a little too quick. Tara saw it all, and it was like watching you wear your feelings on your sleeve.
The way you twirled the dress in front of the mirror, the way your hands moved restlessly as you smoothed down imaginary creases—it was all too familiar. She knew exactly what you were feeling, even if you didn't say it out loud.
Did Brian? She doubted it.
He didn't know the little things, like how your voice got higher when you were nervous or how you couldn't stand still when you were excited. He didn't know the way your lips pressed together when you were thinking too hard about something or the way your shoulders tensed when you wanted something to go perfectly.
He didn't know you, not like she did.
"What do you think?" you asked again, snapping her out of her thoughts. You turned, holding the dress out at arm's length, giving her a better look. "Too much? Not enough?"
Tara forced a smile, her heart twisting as she watched you. "I think it's... nice," she said carefully, her voice steady even as her stomach churned.
Nice. The word felt like a betrayal. It didn't come close to how she really felt—how beautiful you looked, how much she wished those bright eyes were sparkling for her instead of someone else.
"You think Brian'll like it?" you asked, your tone innocent, but the question struck Tara like a punch.
She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the fabric of your comforter. She wanted to tell you Brian didn't deserve you, that he wouldn't know how to appreciate all the little things that made you you. But instead, she kept her tone casual, masking the storm inside her.
"I mean... yeah," she said after a pause. "It's hard not to like you in anything."
Your grin widened, lighting up the room in a way that made her stomach flutter. You didn't notice the tightness in her smile, the way her eyes lingered on you for just a second too long.
"You're the best." you said, turning back to the mirror.
Tara's chest tightened, a quiet ache settling beneath her ribs. She glanced away, forcing a small smile as she leaned back on her hands.
She let her fingers dug slightly into the comforter as she watched you move across the room again, this time heading toward your closet. You sifted through the hangers with an almost frantic energy, pulling out one piece of clothing after another until something caught your eye.
"This," you announced, holding up a sleek black skirt and a tiny top with delicate lace accents.
Tara blinked, her focus shifting from the faint hum of her own thoughts to the outfit in your hands. The skirt was just short enough to grab attention, and the top would clung to the curves in all the right places—your curves, she couldn't help but think.
Her stomach twisted again, but not with the same bitterness from earlier. No, this was something else entirely. She couldn't stop herself from picturing you in it, couldn't stop the way her mind immediately conjured the image of you standing there, all done up, looking effortlessly hot and completely out of her reach.
She swallowed hard, tearing her gaze away. "You're not wearing the dress?" she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.
"Oh, I am," you replied with a grin, holding the outfit closer to her. "This is for you!"
Tara froze. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe, her chest tightening as your words sank in.
She had been so caught up in watching you, so wrapped up in her own spiral of emotions, that she had momentarily forgotten she was actually going to this party.
"Me?" she echoed, her brows furrowing slightly as she tried to act like the idea of dressing up didn't make her stomach drop.
You laughed softly, stepping closer to hold the outfit up against her frame. "Yeah, you! Come on, Tara, you can't just wear that." You half-pointed to her attire.
Tara's eyes darted to the mirror, catching a glimpse of herself in her usual hoodie and jeans.
She had planned on blending into the background tonight, just another shadow in the corner, but now you were holding out a version of herself she wasn't sure she wanted to confront.
"It's... a little much, don't you think?" she murmured, her fingers brushing over the fabric.
"Not at all," you said, undeterred. "Trust me, you'll look amazing.
The way you looked at her, so excited, so hopeful, made it impossible for her to argue. The truth was, she didn't want to blend into the background—not really. Not if it meant letting Brian win.
"Alright," she said finally, forcing a small smirk as she reached for the outfit.
You grinned, clearly thrilled, and the sight sent her heart fluttering all over again.
As she stood up to take the clothes in you, the weight of the night ahead settled on her shoulders again. She knew this wasn't about the clothes or the party. It was about you—about keeping you close, about holding onto the part of you that still felt like hers, even if it wasn't.
And as much as she hated to admit it, she was willing to do whatever it took to keep it that way.
Tara pulled the clothes from your hands, her fingers brushing yours for just a second longer than necessary before she turned away.
She hesitated only briefly, her eyes darting to the bathroom door, but then she decided against it. It wasn't like this was anything new. You'd seen her change plenty of times before.
Slipping off her hoodie, she pulled the top over her head, the soft lace brushing against her skin in a way that felt oddly delicate, almost foreign.
The skirt followed, the fabric snug around her waist and flaring slightly at her hips. When she finally turned back toward you, she caught sight of herself in the mirror.
It was strange. She didn't recognize the girl staring back at her right away—not entirely. The clothes fit her so well, so effortlessly, that she felt a flicker of something unexpected: pride.
She looked... pretty. Not in the same way you did, with your radiant energy that drew everyone in, but still. Pretty enough.
Her heart jumped a little at the thought of you seeing her like this, of you noticing her in the way she always noticed you. She didn't know why she wanted that so badly, but the hope curled tightly in her chest, warm and persistent.
You looked up from where you'd been smoothing out your own dress, and your reaction was immediate. Your eyes widened slightly, and then your face lit up in that effortless way that always made her stomach flutter.
"Tara, oh my god, you look so good," you said, your voice soft but genuine, carrying none of the over-the-top excitement you sometimes used when joking around. This was real.
Tara felt her cheeks warm under your gaze, her fingers automatically reaching to adjust the hem of the skirt, as if she could somehow shield herself from the weight of your words. She tried to play it off, shrugging casually. "It's just a skirt," she mumbled, but her voice lacked its usual bite.
"It's not just a skirt," you countered, stepping closer. "You look amazing. Seriously, this is perfect for you."
Your words were kind, almost too kind, and Tara wasn't sure how to process them. There was no teasing, no playful edge, just an earnestness that made her chest feel tight and achy.
She glanced away, pretending to focus on her reflection again, but the warmth of your approval lingered, sinking into her skin like the lace of the top.
She wanted to feel good about it, to let herself bask in the way you saw her, but the nagging thought that this wasn't for her—that it was all part of your excitement for Brian—kept her grounded.
Still, the way you smiled at her, so unreserved and so entirely you, made her feel something she hadn't in a long time: seen. She wished, just for a second, that you were saying all of this for the same reason she wished you would.
You spun on your heel, nearly tripping over the pile of discarded clothes strewn across the floor in your excitement. Tara's breath caught for a second, her hand twitching instinctively like she was about to reach for you, but you caught yourself, laughing it off as if nothing had happened.
"You need to clean your room before someone gets hurt," Tara muttered, though her tone held more amusement than annoyance.
You ignored her, too caught up in the moment as you reached your makeup table, rifling through your collection with a kind of chaotic precision.
Pulling out a palette, you held it up, the colors catching the light as you grinned at her. "What do you think? Want me to do your makeup?"
Your voice was so full of unfiltered excitement, your smile so wide it made her stomach flip. Tara hesitated, her fingers brushing the hem of her skirt as she glanced at the palette in your hands. She wasn't really the makeup type—not like you were—but the way you looked at her, like you were just waiting to make her feel special, made it impossible to say no.
"You don't have to," Tara said finally, though her voice lacked conviction.
"I want to!" you insisted, stepping closer, the palette still in hand. "Please, Tara? I promise I'll keep it simple. Just a little something to go with the outfit."
She sighed, feigning reluctance as she sat back down on the edge of the bed. "Fine."
You grabbed a chair and pulled it in front of her, gesturing for her to sit. "Alright, let's make you even more stunning."
Tara rolled her eyes, though the faintest smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she leaned forward.
___
The buzz of the party hit you as soon as you stepped through the door.
Music pulsed through the house, the bass vibrating in your chest as voices overlapped in a cacophony of laughter and shouted greetings.
People crowded the space—groups gathered near the kitchen, couples pressed close against walls, and a few brave souls danced in the living room, already letting loose despite how early it was in the night.
You glanced over at Tara, catching the way her shoulders stiffened slightly as the noise and energy enveloped her. She'd been quiet on the drive over, her fingers drumming against her thigh in a way that let you know her nerves were kicking in. But she'd never admit that, not to you.
"See?" you said brightly, bumping her shoulder with yours as you stepped further into the house. "I told you this would be fun."
Tara gave you a look, one that was half-skepticism and half-amusement, as she tugged at the hem of her skirt. "Yeah, we'll see about that."
Your laugh was warm and easy, a sound that somehow made the chaos of the party seem less overwhelming. You reached back to grab her hand, pulling her through the crowd as you made your way toward the kitchen. The feel of your fingers around hers made something in Tara's chest twist uncomfortably, though she forced herself to ignore it.
The kitchen was just as packed as the rest of the house, but you managed to snag two drinks from the counter, handing one to her with a grin. "Alright, party rule number one: stay hydrated."
Tara raised an eyebrow, glancing at the cup in her hand. "This is definitely not water."
"Details." You waved her off, your playful smirk making her stomach flutter in that maddeningly familiar way.
Before she could respond, a voice called out from across the room. "Y/N! There you are!"
Tara's grip on her cup tightened as she followed your gaze, her stomach sinking when she saw him—Brian—making his way toward you. His smile was wide and easy, the kind of grin that would make anyone else swoon.
But Tara wasn't anyone else.
"Brian!" you said, your face lighting up in a way that made Tara's chest ache. She stepped back slightly, letting go of your hand as he drew closer, though her eyes never left you.
He didn't deserve that smile.
Brian's gaze flickered to her briefly, his smile faltering just a bit. "Tara, right?"
She nodded, her expression neutral as she took a sip of her drink. "That's me."
If he noticed the edge in her tone, he didn't comment on it, turning his attention back to you instead. "You look amazing," he said, his eyes raking over your dress in a way that made Tara's jaw tighten.
You beamed at him, clearly pleased by the compliment, and Tara had to look away, her hand gripping her cup so tightly she was surprised it didn't crack.
This was going to be a long night.
And it most definitely was.
As the night went on, the party only grew louder and more chaotic. People drifted in and out of the circle you, Tara, and Brian had settled into, friends of his joining the conversation with easy smiles and casual jokes.
You made a genuine effort to include Tara, always pulling her back in when she started to fade into the background, but it was clear who held your focus.
Brian.
He stood close to you, his arm brushing yours as he leaned in to talk over the music.
You didn't seem to notice—or maybe you did, and you didn't mind. Either way, the proximity between you two only seemed to grow as the minutes ticked by, and Tara couldn't stop watching.
Every time you laughed at something he said, her chest tightened just a little more.
You weren't doing it on purpose. Tara knew that. She knew you didn't notice the way her jaw clenched or how her fingers drummed against her cup.
You were just being you—kind, bubbly, and effortlessly charming. But watching you with Brian, seeing how much of your attention he was soaking up, felt like a slow, relentless sting.
She hadn't expected it to bother her this much.
At first, Tara tried to play along, chiming in when she could and taking small sips of her drink to distract herself.
But then Brian's friends started joining the conversation, their loud energy making it harder for her to keep up. You were still trying to include her, turning to her every so often to ask her opinion or flash her one of your brilliant smiles, but it wasn't enough.
Not when you lit up like a damn firework every time Brian said something that made you laugh.
Tara tipped back her cup, finishing it quicker than she probably should have. She wasn't much of a drinker to begin with—she never really liked how it made her feel—but tonight was different. Tonight, she needed the edge taken off.
"Want another?" you asked, noticing her empty cup.
She hesitated, but before she could respond, Brian offered. "I'll grab her one. Be right back."
She opened her mouth to say she didn't need another, but he was already walking away.
You smiled after him before turning back to Tara, your expression so full of effortless warmth it made her stomach churn. "You having fun?"
She forced a small nod, her grip tightening on the plastic cup. "Yeah. It's... fine."
You didn't notice the strain in her voice, too caught up in the energy of the party to catch on.
By the time Brian returned with her drink, she'd already decided she wasn't going to overthink it. She took it with a quiet "thanks" and drank just enough to feel the buzz set in. It wasn't much—maybe two drinks total—but Tara was short, and she always felt the effects quicker than most.
The alcohol didn't drown out her frustration, though.
Every laugh you gave Brian, every time you leaned in to whisper something to him, only seemed to magnify it.
And you? You were oblivious. Still trying to keep her in the conversation, pulling her in with the same ease you always had. But she could feel the gap widening.
Tara's foot tapped against the floor as she shifted her weight, her eyes flickering between you and Brian. She should've left, should've wandered off to another part of the house to escape this torturous little triangle, but she stayed.
Because if she left, she'd have to admit to herself why she couldn't handle this.
So instead, she took another sip of her drink and plastered on a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"You okay?" you asked, your voice cutting through her thoughts.
"Yeah," she said quickly, her words sharper than she intended. "I'm fine."
But she wasn't. And as the night wore on, that became harder and harder to hide.
And after an hour, or maybe even more.
The alcohol was definitely working its way through Tara's veins. She could feel it, the familiar warmth spreading through her chest, making her limbs feel looser but her thoughts louder.
The edges of the room blurred ever so slightly, but her focus on you was sharp as ever, almost painfully so.
You were giggling at something Brian said again, your hand brushing his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Tara had been watching you both like a hawk all night, trying to play it cool, but the subtle touches, the shared smiles, the way your eyes sparkled when you looked at him—it was getting under her skin.
She clenched her jaw, tipping back the rest of her drink as if it might drown out the frustration bubbling inside her. But it didn't.
It wasn't just the alcohol making her feel reckless, though it didn't help. Tara was desperate.
Desperate to do something—anything—that might shift the balance back in her favor. But how? She wasn't like Brian. She didn't have easy jokes or effortless charm. And she wasn't like you, all soft laughter and open smiles.
So she sat there, stewing in her own silence, searching for an opening she couldn't find.
Then she turned her head for just a moment.
A distraction—a loud burst of laughter from somewhere across the room. She glanced over, barely processing the source, and when she looked back...
Her heart stopped.
You and Brian were kissing.
It wasn't shy or hesitant. It was full and unguarded, like something out of the movies. His hands rested lightly on your waist, your fingers clutching the front of his shirt as though you were afraid to let go.
Tara's first thought wasn't sadness. It wasn't heartbreak or even surprise.
It was rage.
Her body went rigid, the plastic cup in her hand creaking under the force of her grip.
Because of course this wasn't a problem.
Why would it be?
You weren't hers. You'd never been hers. You were allowed to kiss boys, especially the boy you'd been crushing on for as long as she could remember. It wasn't like you were breaking some unspoken rule. She had no claim to you, no right to feel betrayed or blindsided.
But God, it felt like a betrayal.
Her rational mind tried to reason with her, repeating the same useless mantra: This isn't a problem. This isn't a problem. This isn't a problem.
But the other side of her mind—the side that had been clawing its way to the surface all night—was screaming the opposite.
It was a problem. A huge one.
The anger burned through her like a wildfire, consuming every rational thought as it spread. It started in her chest, hot and heavy, before curling into her throat and setting her teeth on edge. Her nails dug into the soft plastic of her cup until it crumpled under her grip, a sharp crack breaking through the buzz of the party.
And still, she couldn't look away.
She hated it. Hated the way his hands touched you so easily, like he'd earned that right. Hated the way you kissed him back like you'd been waiting for this your whole life. Hated how he got to have what she wanted so desperately without even knowing how much it mattered.
Her breaths came quicker, each one catching in her chest as if she couldn't quite fill her lungs. The alcohol amplified everything, stripping her bare of the filters she usually relied on. Every raw, unspoken feeling she'd buried for years was rising to the surface now, and there was no stopping it.
She wanted to scream.
To grab you and pull you away, to tell Brian to get his hands off you, to do something.
But she didn't.
Because no matter how angry she was, no matter how much she hated what she was seeing, there was a part of her—a small, quiet, agonizing part—that whispered:
You're not supposed to feel like this.
So instead, Tara sat there, her body tense and trembling, her nails biting into the palms of her hands. She didn't even realize she'd crumpled her cup until the sticky remnants of her drink dripped onto her lap.
And still, she couldn't look away.
Eventually you pulled back from Brian, cheeks flushed and eyes slightly glassy from the alcohol coursing through your system.
A small, almost dazed laugh escaped your lips as you glanced at him, then turned to find Tara in the crowd. She hadn't moved from where she'd been watching, her posture stiff and her eyes fixed on some indistinct point on the wall—anywhere but you.
When your gaze landed on her, your smile widened, bright and unrestrained, like you hadn't just set her entire world on fire.
Tara's chest tightened, the molten frustration inside her bubbling hotter with every passing second. She couldn't stop her thoughts, couldn't silence the storm brewing in her mind.
You stumbled a little as you reached her, still grinning like a fool, your energy infectious to everyone but Tara. You leaned close, tipping forward on your toes, your voice loud but slurred enough to betray your tipsy state.
"I think he kissed me," you said, as if it hadn't been entirely mutual.
Tara felt something snap.
Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms so hard she half-expected to draw blood.
She couldn't speak, couldn't trust herself to even try. If she opened her mouth, she was sure she'd yell or say something she couldn't take back. Worse, she might cry—and that wasn't an option.
Her silence stretched on, but you didn't seem to notice. You were too lost in your own world, your thoughts spinning with the buzz of the alcohol and the remnants of Brian's touch. Tara's silence didn't matter, because you filled the space with another easy laugh, leaning closer so she could hear you over the pounding music.
"I need to use the bathroom," you said, your lips brushing near her ear. The warmth of your breath made her stomach twist. "Wanna come?"
Tara's mind scrambled for an excuse, her mouth dry as she fought the urge to say something reckless.
"No," she said finally, forcing her voice to sound casual, detached. "I think I'm good down here."
It wasn't true. She wasn't good down here, or anywhere else in the universe at that moment.
You gave her a light shrug, your expression still full of that easy joy that made her want to scream. "Okay! Be right back!"
You disappeared into the crowd, weaving your way toward the bathroom, leaving Tara standing there alone.
The second you were out of sight, she exhaled sharply, her hands shaking as she reached for another drink she didn't need.
She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, the anger, or the ache of jealousy threatening to overwhelm her. Maybe it was all three, swirling into something she couldn't control.
But one thing was clear—she couldn't keep this up. Not tonight. Not with you and Brian. Not with her chest full of feelings she couldn't name and didn't want to face.
Tara's eyes burned as they landed on Brian, standing not far from where you'd left him. His posture was easy, relaxed—too relaxed.
He stood there like nothing had happened, chatting casually with a couple of his friends, his hand lifting a red cup to his lips like this was just another night. Like he hadn't just kissed you.
The most beautiful girl on the planet.
Tara felt her stomach twist painfully, her grip tightening around the drink in her hand. How could he be so unbothered? So unaffected? He wasn't grinning ear to ear, wasn't puffing out his chest or gushing about how lucky he was.
He wasn't laughing with joy or smirking proudly like any sane person would if they'd just kissed you.
How was he not telling everyone in earshot about what had happened? How was he not reeling from the fact that you—you, with your blinding smile and endless energy—had given him even a second of your time, let alone your lips?
Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as she stared at him, her anger bubbling hotter with every second he stayed calm. Her hands itched to grab him by the collar, to shake him and demand he act like he understood the weight of what had just happened.
Did he even realize how lucky he was?
Did he know how many people in that room—how many people in general—would kill to be in his place? To have even the tiniest fraction of your attention, let alone that?
Her vision blurred, and it wasn't from the alcohol. Her chest felt like it was about to implode, like something inside her was trying desperately to escape, and she didn't know how much longer she could keep it together.
Brian's laughter snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts. He was laughing at something one of his friends said, his expression light, carefree—unbothered.
Tara nearly saw red.
She downed the rest of her drink in one go, the sharp burn doing nothing to dull the fury roaring in her chest. How could he be like this? How could he act so normal, so indifferent, after kissing you?
How could he not be overwhelmed by the fact that you'd chosen him, even for a fleeting moment?
It was insulting. Infuriating.
She wanted to march over there, to grab him and make him feel the way she was feeling. She wanted him to hurt, to ache, to boil with jealousy the way she was.
But she couldn't.
Because none of this was his fault.
The real issue—the one she didn't want to admit—wasn't Brian. It was the simple, heartbreaking truth that he could kiss you without consequence.
He could have you.
Tara wasn't sure what happened next.
What she was thinking when it happened, or if she was even thinking at all. Maybe it was the anger—burning hot and uncontrollable—making her body move before her brain could catch up. Or maybe it was the alcohol, buzzing in her veins and drowning out every voice in her head that might've told her to stop.
All she knew was that one second she was standing there, glaring at Brian like he'd committed some unforgivable sin, and the next, she was storming toward him.
His friends noticed her first, their chatter faltering as they shifted awkwardly under her sharp glare. But Brian, oblivious as ever, didn't see her coming. He was mid-sentence, that stupidly calm look still plastered on his face, when Tara grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him down to her level.
The movement was forceful enough to knock the air out of both of them, and before he could even process what was happening—before she could process what was happening—she pressed her lips against his.
It wasn't soft.
It wasn't sweet.
It was messy, rough, and fueled by a cocktail of rage and desperation. Her hands fisted his shirt tightly, holding him in place, her nails biting into the fabric. Brian stiffened for a second, shocked, but then his hands hovered awkwardly near her waist, unsure of what to do.
Tara didn't care. She didn't care about his reaction, about his hesitation.
Because this wasn't about him.
It wasn't about his stupid, clueless face or the fact that he'd kissed you without giving it a second thought. It wasn't about him being unbothered or unaffected.
This was about her.
Her anger, her frustration, her absolute inability to sit there for another second and watch him act like kissing you was nothing.
The kiss deepened as her grip on his shirt tightened, pulling him even closer. She wanted to erase the memory of you from his lips, to replace it with her own. To make him feel something, anything, the way she was feeling.
But it wasn't working.
If anything, the kiss only made it worse.
Because no matter how hard she pressed, no matter how desperate her movements were, it didn't feel right.
It didn't feel like you.
And that thought was like a punch to the gut.
Brian made a soft, surprised noise against her lips, his hands finally settling on her hips, but it only made her angrier. How dare he hesitate now? How dare he act so unsure, like he didn't know exactly what he wanted when he'd so easily taken you from her just minutes ago?
Her chest heaved as she pulled back slightly, her lips still brushing against his, her heart pounding in her ears.
His wide eyes stared at her, confused and more than a little alarmed. "Tara—" his voice laced with bewilderment, but she silenced him with another kiss, pressing harder, needing to cut him off.
She didn't want to hear his voice. She didn't want to hear him try to make sense of this, because she didn't have an explanation. This wasn't about him.
It wasn't about you either—not entirely, at least.
It was about her. About the way she felt like she was unraveling, about how every smile you gave Brian felt like another thread being yanked loose, every laugh you shared with him felt like a blow to the chest.
She didn't know how to make it stop, and the only thing her mind could come up with was this. She didn't have to think when she was kissing Brian. Didn't have to feel the jagged ache of watching you be so happy with someone else.
This wasn't about him.
But it was all she could do to stop herself from falling apart completely.
And Tara wasn't sure what was happening anymore.
Brian hadn't pushed her away. He hadn't stopped her, hadn't hesitated for even a moment after that first surprised noise.
No, he'd leaned into it. He'd kissed her back with the kind of intent that only made her angrier, made the fire in her chest blaze so hot she thought she might combust right there.
Because it wasn't supposed to go like this.
His hands slid from her hips, pulling her closer, pressing her tighter against him, and she hated it. Hated the way he responded like this was exactly what he wanted, hated the way he kissed her back like she wasn't just a replacement for you.
And worse than anything, she hated herself for not stopping it.
His hands moved lower, gripping her ass, pulling her even closer, and she felt herself clench her fists tighter into the fabric of his shirt.
She didn't know if it was the alcohol buzzing in her veins, numbing her better judgment, or if it was the anger still consuming her every thought, but she didn't do anything to stop him.
She should've.
But she didn't.
Because in this moment, it wasn't about him. It wasn't even about you. It was about the chaos she felt boiling in her chest, about the way she felt like she was spiraling further and further out of control.
Brian murmured something against her lips—she didn't catch it, didn't even try to—but his hands stayed firm on her, guiding her, pulling her toward the stairs.
And she let him.
Every step felt like she was wading through quicksand, her mind shouting at her to stop, to push him away, to pull herself together. But her body wasn't listening. She didn't know if it was the heat of his hands on her or the fog of alcohol clouding her better judgment, but she let him lead her.
Because stopping meant facing the truth. And Tara wasn't ready to do that.
Not yet.
She'd barely registered how they ended up in the room. One second, she was being pulled up the stairs, Brian's hand gripping hers tightly, and the next, they were in a dimly lit bedroom, the door clicking shut behind them.
Her heart was racing, but not from excitement. There was no thrill, no anticipation, just a gnawing sense of wrongness she couldn't shake. Yet she didn't stop it. She didn't stop him as his hands found her waist, as his lips trailed down her neck. She didn't stop herself from responding, from letting this spiral further than it ever should have.
It was mechanical, empty, and every moment felt like it was happening to someone else. Brian's touch wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't what she wanted. His lips weren't the ones she craved, his hands didn't spark anything but an aching hollowness inside her.
And yet, she let it happen.
Because, for a fleeting second, it felt like power. Like control. Like maybe, just maybe, if she could take this from him—take you from him in some twisted, nonsensical way—it would hurt less.
But it didn't.
Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word she barely heard, only drove the knife deeper into her chest.
When it was over, the silence was deafening. Tara lay there, staring at the ceiling, her body still and her mind racing. Brian shifted beside her, saying something she didn't hear, and the sound of his voice made her stomach twist. She felt nauseous, disgusted—not with him, but with herself.
What had she done?
Her chest tightened as she fought to keep her breathing steady, refusing to let him see the tears threatening to spill over. It hadn't helped. It hadn't made anything better. If anything, it had only made everything worse.
Because no matter what she did, no matter how far she went, it would never be enough to make her stop wanting you.
Afterwards Tara laid still, the dim light of the room casting shadows that felt too heavy, too oppressive.
Brian was beside her, breathing evening out as if nothing monumental had just happened. As if this was just another casual moment in his life.
Her mind, however, wouldn't stop.
It wasn't Brian she was thinking about—not the way he'd touched her, not the way he'd looked at her. No, every thought clawed its way back to you.
She pictured you in the bathroom, probably still staring at yourself in the mirror, giddy and flushed. She could almost see your smile, so wide it was infectious, and the way you'd probably tilt your head, trying to relive every second of that kiss.
You'd been dreaming of that moment since second grade, scribbling his name in the margins of your notebooks and lighting up every time he was near. Tara could already imagine how you'd be practically glowing, heart racing with excitement as you ran your fingers over your lips, trying to make the feeling last.
She wanted to hate you for it. But she couldn't. She never could.
You'd come out of that bathroom with a smile so bright it could light up the whole house, your hopeful eyes scanning the crowd as you made your way back to the spot you'd all been standing. And what would you find?
Nothing.
Tara wasn't there. Brian wasn't there.
She could imagine how your smile would falter, confusion settling in as you looked around, searching for the two people who were supposed to be waiting for you. How long would it take for the excitement to drain from your face? How quickly would hope turn to disappointment?
The thought was like a knife twisting in her gut.
And yet, she still couldn't make sense of why she'd done this. Why she'd let it happen. Because it didn't feel like she'd won anything. She hadn't taken Brian away from you. If anything, she'd stolen something from herself—something she could never get back.
Her chest tightened as the realization hit her like a freight train. She hadn't wanted him. She hadn't wanted this.
She'd wanted you.
And now she'd ruined everything.
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logray · 3 months ago
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READY OR NOT (2019) SCREAM VI (2023) — dir. Matt Bettinelli-Olpin & Tyler Gillett
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