#x movie 2022
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cryptke · 1 year ago
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iconscollecti0n · 2 years ago
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like or reblog if you save please ¸𓏲࣪ ˚꒷
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happy-xy · 2 years ago
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Jenna Ortega X (2022) dir. Ti West
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drinkmyblood333 · 2 years ago
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wildestdreamcatcher · 2 years ago
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I'm curious about how Maxine met Wayne, Jackson, and Bobby Lynn. At the end her father says that she "Fell into a life of sin" and stuff.
Maybe "Maxxxine " will elaborate more on her backstory.
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junkfoodcinemas · 9 months ago
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X (2022) dir. Ti West Pearl (2022) dir. Ti West MaXXXine (2024) dir. Ti West
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khaleesi-rose · 1 year ago
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I love her so much!! 💙
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Maxine Minx; X (2022)
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yawnzshit · 30 days ago
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my cutesy patootie ☝️ i'm so proud of him 🥺
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ladiesblr · 3 months ago
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Jenna Ortega as Lorraine X (2022) dir. Ti West
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wh0-is-lily · 6 months ago
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Mia Goth in ‘MaXXXine’ (2024) ♡
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queers-gambit · 1 year ago
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Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs
prompt: slutty stranger bathroom sex on a train.
pairing: Tangerine x female!reader
fandom masterlist: Bullet Train
word count: 3.7k+
note: are all our safe words pineapple? i need this man to rail me, you know, for science. yep, that's right, Cherry has a new fixation! aren't y'all so lucky?
warnings: author has brain rot, smut (public, strangers, unprotected), obviously cursing, PWP.
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Japan was bright, you decided with a soft smile on your lips; looking around the train station glowing in neon lights; some blinking, some colored, all fluorescent. People milled around every inch of the place, all walks of life from school children to professionals with briefcases, talking on the phone, running to make their departure. Couples held hands, families took meals together, and a few meters away, a little girl screamed when her brother stole her Momonga plushie.
You must've been enraptured with all around you that your shoulder bullied into someone else's on the platform, making you gasp an instant apology in Japanese. However, the man you had collided with just offered you a stoic look up and down, letting his lips pull in a half-smirk, checking in English with a thick accent, "My apologies, love. You all right there?"
"Yeah, I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you bid with a small smile.
"'S all right, pretty ladies like you can run into me all day," he smirked, eyeing you up and down before following after his snazzy-dressed companion - who slapped his chest forcefully.
"Leave the girl alone, mate," the man reprimanded. "Sorry, miss, he gets it in his head he's God's gift to ladies."
"It's really okay, it was my fault for not watching where I was going," you assured the men, glancing at your watch. "I'm so sorry, but I really can't miss this train. Safe travels, gents!" You bid, offering a simple wave, then scurried off - trying not to double back for the man with a mustache.
God, was that man handsome! Like, illegally handsome. Hauntingly handsome.
You'd even go as far as to say he was devilishly handsome! Those eyes? Beautifully clear blue, alluring, drew you in and held you captive. His cologne? Absolutely heavenly, borderline intoxicating. And he was built like a fucking mountain - tall, broad, slender hips, bulging muscles that looked as if they would rip his button-up.
Shaking your head, you rid yourself of the body-heating thoughts about the stranger you had just barreled into. Being horny got you nowhere, but being perpetually horny... Was the biggest fucking L. Sure, you could rub one out; you knew where the clit was and how to stimulate to your own pleasure (unlike most men). But it was something about a man sweating over you, thrusting into you with abandon; creating a mess in your guts, mind, and chest.
Yeah... You needed to get laid, you were fucking drooling over some stranger you had a 23-second interaction with.
However, upon entering your train and locating a seat in the hopefully peaceful quiet car, you mindlessly downloaded Tinder to pursue at your leisure, but only a few swipes in and you were exiting the app and deleting it (again) from your phone. The train was ready to depart the station, you cracking a bottle of water, looking back on your two-week Japanese excursion your job had sent you on.
And now, you were finally heading to your last stretch of meetings, requiring you to purchase an overnight ticket on one of the available bullet trains. Seemed the fastest, simplest, and most affordable way to travel - skipping out on upgrading to first class. Economy was just fine, you decided, perhaps doubting yourself when your eyes widened when you caught sight of the two strangers you ran into on the platform finding their seats a few rows up. There was a third man with them now that was left slumped in a spare chair - probably drunk off his arse, based on the man's grungy, disheveled look.
You tried not to thinking about the handsome stranger, but he was just a few rows up from you! God, you could practically smell his cologne from here, letting your mouth water slightly.
Yeah, perpetually horny was the biggest L - like you said.
Your thighs squeezed together as you crossed them, hoping the pressure was enough to relieve the build-up of warmth in your belly and cunt. Your headphones were placed, your attention diverting out the window, and tried to imagine if nobody else was in this fucking carriage - he could take you here and now.
After a few stops, your empty water bottle sought revenge against your bladder and ushered you to the closest bathroom. It wasn't as tight a squeeze as airplane bathrooms, but it was still a small facility to use. When done, you washed your hands as a knock sounded at the door, calling in Japanese, "Just a second!"
After unlocking the door and opening it, you actually flinched back slightly when the man from early with the '70s pornstache was stood directly in front of you.
"Well, don't you look like hell," you mused slightly.
"All in a day's work, love," he answered, stepping out of your way to let you exit the bathroom. He looked you up and down, asking, "So, uh, where you headed?"
You told him your stop, asking him the same. He told you, your mind doing mental gymnastics to understand that you both had a good bit left on this train... Surely, anything could happen.
"I'll let you, yeah," you half-smiled awkwardly, moving out of his way fully to give him access to the restroom.
"You know..." He trailed, pointing at the empty lavatory, "Could fit two."
You chuckled, "Yes, but I'm finished now - you go on."
He hummed, glancing up and down the train car - spying through the windows of the conjoining connection each car had. When he faced you again, he took a slow, calculating step forward, "That's not exactly what I meant, sweetheart."
You feet took a slow, calculated step back to find the wall, his smirk broadening. "Then how about using your words like a big boy and tell me what you meant?"
"You look like a smart girl, sure you can figure it out, yeah?" He leered over you, either foot standing between yours, nearly pressed into you but far back enough that he could maintain eye contact.
You pouted at him, "I don't read minds."
"Not sure it's me mind yah gotta read," he perked a single brow, glancing out the window again. "Now, I'd love t'stand here and ravish you the way I've wanted since you bumped into me earlier, but maybe exhibition isn't your thing."
"Judging me now?"
Now, both his brows slowly rose. His teeth poked out from between his smirking lips, praising, "Naughty girl."
"Maybe you're the one a bit nervous, hmm?" You quipped, boldly reaching forward to palm his cock - already half-hard. "What's wrong, mister? Don't want people seeing you so, hm, submissive?" You gave a cheeky flex of your hand, his hips bucking involuntarily.
"You fuckin' minx," he chuckled, hands to your waist now. "Get in that fuckin' bathroom or I might just have to give this whole fuckin' train a show."
"Better start charging them all," you whispered, hearing his growl before pushing his chest back to give you a little space. "You do this often, then? Proposition strangers into dirty bathroom sex on public, moving trains? Hmm? In a foreign country? Seems terribly disrespectful, don't it?"
"Sweetheart, the thoughts in my head about what I want to do to this body - those are disrespectful," he smirked. "Wanna tell me I'm not truly tempting you? You would've left by now," he pointed out, making your chest feel warm from the embarrassment you felt suddenly. You smirked and twiddled your fingers at him in parting, turned, and just before you could step away, you felt his arms lock around your waist. "C'mon, darlin', don't be like that," he hissed in your ear, your visible smirk spurring him on. "Not about t'beg yah, princess, get this pretty li'l arse in this stall."
You folded.
Being perpetually horny was an L, sure, but being propositioned by a handsome, hulking, muscly stranger was for sure a Dub, right?
You turned in his arms, lips only centimeters apart; breathing the same air, hand on his chest to ease him back into the bathroom stall. He grinned in triumph, and the moment you were over the threshold, still maintaining eye contact, he reached around you to click the lock in place.
"C'mere," he growled, surging forward to bring his lips down to yours finally - and just like that, your panties were done for. You moaned instantly, feeling something akin to relief when his lips molded against yours; all but immediately sweeping his tongue against the seam of your mouth.
Letting him in was mind boggling; literally making static fill your brain as your hand lifted to hold the back of his neck, threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. His mustache was stiff, wriggling in an irritating fashion against your upper lip and nose, but you didn't notice - too engulfed in the way he domineered every rational thought. His hands both pressed tightly to your ribs, then waist, down your hips, around to your arse - like he couldn't make up his mind where he wanted to touch you. So, he chose to touch you everywhere.
He was intoxicating; feeling drunk on his taste, smell, touch. He was warm, his curls a bit greasy but still shocking soft, and his lips - plush, welcoming, anchoring. You didn't even know his name, but you didn't need to! All you needed was exactly what he was doing: holding complete control over your heart, mind, and cunt.
Your stranger pulled back suddenly, offering a skeptical look, "There's no boyfriend, fiancé, husband I'm gonna have to look over my shoulder for, right?"
"Not since about 6 months ago, no. Do I need to ask you the same?"
"'Course not," he mused with a grin, kissing you again - but just a degree softer. Now, both his hands rose to caress either cheek; his tongue wagging against yours in more controlled caresses. One hand dropped slowly to hold your neck, pulse quickening, and your stranger smirked, muttering against your lips, "Cheeky girl."
You pushed him back half a step, offering him a once over before confidently reaching down for the end of your shirt and pulling it off over your head. Your companions mouth fell open when you revealed yourself to him, smirking as you opened your jeans to show a hint of the lace panties you wore. You told him your name, earning a confused hum. "My name," you explained, "figured you need to know what to moan." His tongue swept over his lips. "Gonna just stand there?"
He chuckled, checking his watch, then started unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Tangerine," he spoke simply.
"That your safe word?" You asked, shucking your jean clean off after toeing out of your shoes. "Hm, mine's pineapple."
"'S my name, love," he chuckled, opening his button up to reveal exactly what you thought - plains of smooth skin over rigid, bulging muscles. "So you know what to scream," he smirked.
You paused, stood in your panties, bra, and socks, asking through a small chuckle, "You're telling me, your mother carried you all those months in her belly, pushed you screaming - bloodied - into the world, looked at yah, and said, 'yeah, he looks like his name should be Tangerine'?"
He peeled his top half naked, your throat swelling close; swallowing harshly to clear your mouth of the overflow of salvia. Slowly, he moved closer to you, once again leering over you. He reached out for your neck, not too tight or aggressive, but forceful enough to tilt your head back. "'S a codename, love," he explained.
"Ah, so can't reveal the government."
"Exactly."
"The fuck kinda job you got that requires codenames?"
"The dangerous kind," he smirked, "wanna keep running your mouth or put it to other use?"
You chuckled and reached for his trousers, holding his eyes with yours as you easily unfastened him and hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and suit pants. His mouth parted slightly when the cooler air hit his exposed cock, asking, "Safe word?"
He snickered, "Pineapple's fine, love," he sounded far too amused, watching you get on your knees in front of him, "but I doubt we'll need - Oh, holy, fuckin' good God," he seethed through clenched teeth when you eagerly took him in your mouth.
He was bigger than what you were used to - like a full double the size your previous partners had been. He was longer, thicker, and Goddamn, was he sweltering in your mouth. You wondered how long it had been for him, feeling your panties dampen as you felt exhilarated to show this man with a "dangerous job" exactly what your mouth could do - and why he'd never forget your name.
"Oh, there's a good fuckin' girl," he groaned, collecting whatever hair he could in a makeshift ponytail; looking down his nose to watch you. His cock was overwhelming, but you were determined to earn the pleasure he would surely bring; mouthing around his cockhead, using one hand to pump what didn't fit, the other alternating between holding his hairy thigh for balance and cradling his balls.
A few times, you held his eyes with yours as you removed his cock with a pop; licking his shaft up and down like it was a popsicle on the Fourth of July. His jaw would clench each time, sputtering his breath. His veins were pulsing, prominent under the skin; making your cunt contract as his throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly, groaning.
"Li'l too good at this, baby, Goddamn," he breathed, chuckling to himself as he retracted his hips while holding your jaw. "All right, all right," he chuckled, "made your point, love. Get up here 'fore I lose my bloody mind."
You pouted, "I quiet like it down here."
"Darlin', I'm about to bust - "
"Isn't that the point?"
He chuckled and reached down to help you up, instantly searing you in a wet, messy kiss as he backed you into the sink counter; tasting himself on your tongue. It was erotic, something you were vastly not used to - no man ever being okay with you kissing them after having their dicks in your mouth.
But no, this Tangerine fellow was obviously built different.
One hand anchored your waist, the other dropping to toy with your panties gently; petting the waistband before sinking his hand lower. You shuddered lightly when his finger swept through your wet folds, both groaning in pleasure when he sunk knuckle-deep. "Feels so good, love," he praised, your legs widening your stance to let him better access; hand fully disappeared into your panties. "So fuckin' warm, yeah," he breathed, increasing his speed so he pumped aggressively. He didn't need a second finger, he was chasing your orgasm - purely focused on the way you withered before him.
"Tan," you whimpered, gripping his assaulting arm as he found your g-spot and chuckled darkly.
"Got it, there, did I? Yeah, let's see what you've got, love, c'mon."
You whined in your throat, leaning into his chest as your legs began to quake. You didn't get a chance to warn him, feeling that overwhelming urge to urinate - gasping loudly and needing him to support your body as his finger jabbed your g-spot to the point you were gushing into his hand.
"Oh, fuck yeah," he encouraged, stimulating you further; loving the feeling of your squirt in his cupped hand, "keep goin', good girl, that's it, yeah? I got yah, good girl, there you go."
You grunted when he slowed his hand to the point the heel of his palm ground into your clit. Feeling overstimulated, your hand slapped to his meaty forearm, meeting his eyes with a glare, begging, "Okay, okay, okay, you made your fuckin' point."
He grinned, "Didn't know I had that affect on you, love. Huh?"
"You could've offered to fuck me when I ran into you earlier and I would've bent over - right there and then," you whispered against his lips, licking into his mouth right after; making his own mind go blank.
"Feelin's mutual, doll," he nodded, using both hands to shred your lace panties from your hips with a shrill gasp. "Keepsake," he teased, showing you the ruined fabric before dropping it.
You offered him a coy look before turning around for him, not needing the instruction; meeting his stare in the mirror. Bracing yourself against the sink, you slumped over it, making him groan.
"Fuck, doll," he whispered, admiring the view and smoothing a hand over one bare cheek. "Just look at yah, ready fa' me, just drippin'," he bit his lip, giving a few pumps to his length as he looked you over; other hand toying with your weeping hole. He growled and slid his cockhead up and down your slit, both shuddering lightly; moaning in union when he notched himself at your entrance. His eyes met yours in the mirror, his mouth parted, slowly sinking forward to the fucking hilt - making you feel impossibly full.
"Oh, Jesus fuck!"
He chuckled, shifting his hips, "Keep it down, love, don't need anyone bangin' on the door, interrupting us, huh?"
"I'll be quiet when you get a smaller dick."
This made Tangerine genuinely snicker, "Fair enough."
"Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he suddenly pulled back, surged in, and started his own rhythm. Through the mirror, you saw the concentrated, cocky expression he wore; looking purely focused, mesmerized by the way his cock would disappear within you, only to reappeared - soaking wet, glistening.
"Feel's divine," he hissed, the grip on your hips sure to leave bruises. "God, this pussy's made fa me - grippin' s'fuckin' tight. Who was the idiot who let this go, huh?"
"Really wanna talk about my ex now?" You panted.
"Nah, don't need to - 's mine now," he grit, one hand letting go of your hips to bring down on the meat of your bottom. "Hear me? Huh? Fuckin' mine now," he pommeled your arse a couple more times. "Like that, huh? Don't you? Feel you fuckin' squeezin' me each time."
"Yes," you moaned. "Fuck, yes, yes, God, you feel fucking amazing."
"Keep talkin'," another slap that made you squeak.
You were nervous 'cause you never considered yourself the best at dirty talk, but still tried, "So fuckin' good, makin' me so wet. Fuck - never had cock like this, so good - so deep, so big. Don't stop," you whimpered, his feet repositioning to allow himself a new angle and speed to drill into you. "Fuck, yes," you moaned loudly, encouraging, "harder, please, yes, yes, yes! Just like that!"
The motions cause ripples across the flesh of your bottom, thighs quaking. You pushed your hand down your front, your partner groaning at the sight as you found your clit and started massaging; the contractions squeezing Tangerine's cock tightly. His one hand traveled around the front of you, sliding up to yank your bra from your breasts; palming one with fever before tweaking your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.
"Fuuuuck, Tan," you whined, moaning. "Don't stop, please, 's too fuckin' good!"
"I've got yah, darlin', almost there," he grunted, folded a little more over your back so he could fondle you roughly. "Naughty fuckin' girl, lettin' me bend yah over like this - don't even know me. Just knew you needed my cock, huh, love? Ain't that right?"
"Yes," you moaned, orgasm fast approaching.
"Probably let me do whatever I wanted t'you, huh?"
"Fuck yes, whatever you wanted, however you wanted me!"
"At's a good girl," he grit. "Takin' me so well, so fucking good. Need this pussy again, hear me? Fuck," he panted, increasing his speed to an erratic pace, "need a taste, need yah t'squirt on me again. Need this pussy in all positions." He bared his teeth, increasing his speed, hissing, "Lemme hear you scream, love. Wanna hear my name. from that pretty fuckin' mouth, c'mon."
"T-Tan, fuck, Tangerine, I-I'm right there, I'm so close - OH FUCK!" Your orgasm made you reel back into his chest, milking yourself on his impaling cock. You gasped, mouth left wide as his hand constricted around your throat, his mouth hot against your ear; biting and licking as he grunted forcefully.
He gasped in your ear, moaning your name on a short repeat, shuddering as he stilled himself; coating your wet interior with his thick ropes of hot, heavy cum. Your eyes were closed, head tilted back to his shoulder; his lips actually soft as he planted several kisses along your neck (that he released) and shoulder. "Holy fuck, doll," he whispered, chuckling in disbelief. "'S a li'l too good."
You smirked, "Yeah, I've heard that before, you're not the first t'tell me."
"Ah, way t'ruin it, doll," he joked, making you chuckle breathlessly. "All right?"
"Mhm," you sighed, eyes opening. "You?"
"Never better," he mused softly, sighing as you both tried to regain your breath. He let out a single grunt as he held your hips, pulling his cock free; releasing a gush of cum from you both to drip from your cunt. As you both redressed, he eyed you for a moment, then mentioned, "Listen, love, uh... Don't miss your stop."
"I wasn't planning on it?"
"Good... Just..." He sighed, closing up his shirt. "Make sure you get off this train."
You stared at him for a moment, pondering, "This have something t'do with that 'dangerous job' of yours?"
"A bit."
You hummed, zipping your jeans back up sans panties. "Why don't you get off, too?" You asked softly.
"Can't, darlin', got a job t'finish."
You nodded, "Then be careful, yeah?"
He nodded in return, reaching out to pull you in close. He took a second to look you over, smirking slightly, "Worried about me, are yah?"
"I don't even know you."
"We'll change that," he eased. "Your phone?" You offered a small look before sighing, reaching for your phone, unlocking it, and offering it to him. He typed for a moment, a distant buzz heard from his own phone, then handed it back to you. "I'll call you up sometime, love," he smirked, watching you reach back to unlock the door.
"You better," you mused, letting him press one more searing kiss to your lips. You hummed, pouting slightly and telling him, "Behave, or we'll go at round two."
"Don't threaten me with a good time, darlin'," he pocketed your shredded panties with a cheeky grin.
"You still owe me for those," you pointed.
"Send a bill, I'll make it up t'yah."
You smirked, "No bill, but I'd take dinner."
To your honest shock, a sort of... Contemplating, soft expression took over his face, nodding, promising quietly, "I'll call yah, darlin'. Just make sure you answer."
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[ part two: Shower Shenanigans ]
requesting rules and masterlist
Bullet Train masterlist
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They should make a new Batman vs Superman with the new Batman and Superman but instead of fighting they make out sloppy styl- WHAT! WHO SAID THAT?! WHO SAID THAT?
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idkdudethisisntpermanent · 9 days ago
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Keep Your Eyes on Me - pt.ii
tara carpenter x female reader
part i | part ii
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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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filmgifs · 3 months ago
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X (2022) dir. Ti West
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rahabq · 1 year ago
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wildestdreamcatcher · 2 years ago
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Maxine Minx is the best final girl.
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