3igbootyl0ver

[3igbootyl0ver]

Is all of your posts original or not

Wait what do you mean of course it is😢 is there any reason for my work to seem fake/copied…

[3igbootyl0ver]

What a baddie grrrrr

[3igbootyl0ver]

doctor's in [pt.3]

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: Just as you thought fate was finally on your side, the universe had other plans—ones that seemed determined to pull you and Tara apart. But you and Tara had other plans, and that was to keep trying.

word count: 3752

a/n: hehe this is the end of this fic, I hope you guys like it!! I really enjoyed writing this one

Tara was getting impatient. 

Just as she thought you both were progressing into the ‘relationship’, it seems that fate was not on your side anymore.

It was getting ridiculous! After multiple of countless attempts to set a date—just the both of you, there’s always something or someone to ruin the night you both fought so hard for.

“Well, I guess fate is just not on our side for now,” Is something you would always say when your dates gets disrupted unexpectedly.

Well, Fuck Fate.

At first it was something silly— like a sudden work emergency or a meeting you couldn’t get out of. Tara had laughed it off, saying, ‘Duty calls, I get it.’ But then it happened again, and again.

The second time, your best friend, Stacy, showed up unannounced at your apartment during your movie date, heartbroken and needing a shoulder to cry on. Tara had sighed but understood. The third time? Your neighbor’s cat somehow got stuck in your apartment, and you had to call for help to get it out, calling for a rain check for your date due to your allergic reaction from the cat.

It was getting even more ridiculous when once you both planned to grab dinner together. Everything was going perfect!—until a potential hurricane emergency came in and you both had to retreat back home, not even managing to grab a bite of your food.

Now, on the sixth failed attempt, she was done being patient.

Tara sat on her bed, phone in hand, staring at your latest message: "I'm so sorry, an emergency surgery came up. Can we reschedule?"

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Should she play it cool? Should she call you out? Or worse—should she give up?

Tara wanted to be mad at you. Really, she did. But the truth was, she wasn’t entirely innocent either.

The first time she had to cancel, it was because her lecturer dumped a last-minute project on her class. She had groaned in frustration but knew she couldn’t say no.

The second time, Mindy had dragged her into some family drama—something about Chad not helping out with their chores (which she didn’t get why she had be included in the first place), and before she knew it, hours had passed, and your date was long forgotten.

The third? Well, she hated to admit it, but she fell asleep. It had been a brutal week, and she had closed her eyes just for a second—only to wake up to your, ‘Where are you?’ text, heart sinking.

Both of you had at least 10 different failed attempts on going on the “perfect” date; With no one to burst your bubble and just being in each other’s arms. Hell, Tara got even more pissed when she thought about how you both haven’t had a cheeky, steamy makeout session yet.

And now, here you both were. A mess of bad timing, terrible luck, and an endless cycle of almost but not quite.

Tara stared at your message and sighed. Maybe fate was trying to tell you something. Or maybe, it was time to fight harder for what you both wanted.

Tara :)

it’s fine, i get it. next time i guess

Sent at 4.03pm.

Tara had spent the entire day convincing herself that this time would be different—that nothing would get in the way. But now, with disappointment settling deep in her chest, exhaustion crept in faster than she expected.

Her phone slipped from her grasp onto the bed, the screen still lit with your chat. She hated how bitter that sounded, but what else was she supposed to say?

Her eyelids drooped, her body sinking into the comfort of her pillows. Maybe just a few minutes of rest. Just enough to shake off the frustration.

And as she drifted off, she wondered—would there really be a next time? Or was this just a slow, inevitable fade into nothing?

———

Tara was awoken by an array of vibrations from her phone. Groaning, she turned it on—eyes squinting from the level of brightness which she reduced afterwards. The first thing she saw was the time—9.55pm. She saw the number of texts she had gotten from you and Sam afterwards, her heart quickly jumping out of her chest thinking it was an actual emergency.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she unlocked her phone, scrolling through the notifications (deliberately ignoring Sam’s texts).

You: Tara? You: Hey, are you there? You: I know you’re upset, but please reply. You: I’m sorry, baby. I’ll make it up to u

You: I brought food. If you don’t want to see me, I’ll leave it at your door.

Sent at 8.30pm.

Her heart stilled. She scrambled to sit up, pushing her hair out of her face. Her half-asleep brain struggled to catch up—had she read that right? Her cheeks were slightly tinted with the pet name as she proceeded to the door, opening it slowly which made the hinges creak slightly. There it was, a bowl of her favorite takeout pasta, with a rose and note saying, 

‘I’m sorry, I didn't want our night to end like this. I hope this makes up for it—at least a little. Text me? -Y/N’

Tara exhaled softly, her fingers tracing the edge of the note. The smell of the pasta was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the lingering disappointment she had felt just hours ago. Tara swallowed, suddenly wide awake. After everything—the cancellations, the bad timing, the missed chances—you still showed up.

For her.

She picked up the bowl and the rose, stepping back into her apartment. Closing the door behind her, she stared at the small gesture sitting in her hands. It wasn’t much—just food, a flower, and a few words—but it was enough to make her chest tighten.

Her thumb hovered over her  screen keyboard, but before she could type a response, her eyes spotted a message she hadn’t seen yet during her spiral of emotions.

You: 

i’ll be at the library, researching for my paper due.  come over if u see this?

Sent at 9.45pm.

A sigh left her lips as she replied to your texts, the three little dots appearing on her screen as she types out her response.

Tara :)

u're an idiot

i’m omw 

With that, she threw her blanket off from the couch and got to her feet, heart pounding as she made her way to the door.

———

The library was quieter than usual when she stepped inside, the scent of old books and freshly brewed coffee from the café near the entrance instantly familiar. She greeted the librarian, Mrs. Grahams, whom recognized her instantly.

“Hey sweetheart, looking for Y/N? They’re just a few tables away around the corner,” She stated softly, before redirecting her attention towards her computer.

Tara gave her a soft thanks before walking towards your direction, slightly shy with how the librarian knows how you and Tara were seeing each other.

‘Seeing each other’. She didn’t know what label to put on the both of you, were you guys dating, just talking, or figuring it out? Nevertheless, her inner turmoil was halted when she spotted you before you noticed her—head bent slightly, fingers absentmindedly tapping against the cover of a book as you scrolled through your phone.

She took a deep breath and walked over, stopping just in front of your table.

You looked up, eyes widening slightly in surprise. “Tara—”

She sat down across from you before you could finish, folding her arms on the table. “If I didn’t come now, we’d probably miss each other again.”

A slow smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “So, you’re saying fate isn’t against us after all?”

Tara rolled her eyes, but there was a softness to it. “I’m saying… maybe it’s time we stop letting it win.”

Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t the uncomfortable kind. It was something… lighter. Something that felt like the start of finally getting it right.

You slowly slid your hands under hers— testing the waters, before interlocking your hands with hers.

“Look—I’m sorry about this whole thing. Some dumb ass swallowed plastic beads and we had to get rid of it before it caused a blockage. It was a mess, and I didn’t want to cancel it again, but—“

Tara sighed, shaking her head, but she didn’t pull her hands away. “You and your stupid emergencies,” She muttered, but there was no real anger in her voice—Just exhaustion. Just the weight of every missed chance between you both.

You squeezed her hand gently. “I know. And I hate it just as much as you do.”

She stared at your intertwined fingers, running her thumb lightly over yours. “I just… I didn’t know if we were ever gonna get this right,” she admitted, voice quieter now. “Every time we tried, something got in the way. I started thinking maybe it wasn’t meant to happen.”

Your grip tightened slightly. “Tara,” you murmured, waiting for her to look up at you. When she did, there was something unspoken in your gaze—something real. “It is meant to happen. We just have to fight for it.”

She exhaled slowly, as if letting go of the frustration, the doubt. And then, a small smile tugged at her lips. “Well,” she said, squeezing your hand back, “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

You let out a breath, one that felt like relief. “Yeah,” you whispered. “You are.”

———

“Follow me to get some books? Please?” You managed your best puppy eye look at Tara, which made her sigh before standing up from her chair. The legs screeched slightly against the floor as she got up, giving you an unimpressed look before walking toward the aisles.

You grinned. You knew you’d always win.

As you scanned the shelves, Tara leaned against one, watching you. “Why are you even using books again? Can’t you just, like, Google it?” she asked exasperatedly, clearly forgetting that you were actually here to study and not just hang out.

“One of my old attendings from work said it’s better to gain knowledge from books instead of online because the internet ‘rots our brains,’” you replied, pulling out a thick textbook.

Tara snorted. “Sounds like someone who still handwrites emails.”

You smirked, turning to her with a playful glint in your eyes. “Jealous? Do you want me to write you a love letter instead?”

She scoffed, but you didn’t miss the way her lips twitched upward. “Oh please. Your handwriting is probably worse than your texting skills.”

You took a step closer, holding a book out to her. “Maybe. But I bet you’d still keep it if I did.”

Tara met your gaze, raising an eyebrow as she took the book from your hand, fingers barely brushing against yours. “Bold assumption.”

You tilted your head, lowering your voice just slightly. “Am I wrong?”

For the first time, she hesitated—just for a second—before rolling her eyes and turning back to the bookshelves. “Hurry up and pick something before I leave you here.”

You chuckled, watching her with amusement. “You love me too much to do that.”

She didn’t respond, but the faint pink dusting her cheeks told you everything you needed to know.

You smirked, watching the faint blush creep onto Tara’s cheeks as she turned away, pretending to focus on the books in front of her. You knew she’d never admit it, but you caught that tiny hesitation—that brief moment of flustered silence that told you everything.

“Alright, alright,” you said, grabbing another book and tucking it under your arm. “I’ll behave.”

Tara scoffed, still not looking at you. “Since when do you ever behave?”

You took a slow step closer, closing some of the distance between you. “Oh? Does that mean you like it when I don’t?”

She finally turned to look at you, eyes narrowing, but you caught the way her breath hitched—just slightly. “You are so annoying.”

You leaned in a little more, voice dipping lower. “And yet, you’re still here.”

Tara swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of how close you were. The dim library lighting cast soft shadows across your face, and she could see every detail—the mischievous glint in your eyes, the curve of your lips that held back another teasing remark.

She should have said something—should have shoved you away or rolled her eyes or done anything to break the tension. But she didn’t.

“I would very much like to kiss you right now.” 

“Please do.”

It was quick at first, almost as if she surprised herself, but the moment her lips brushed against yours, the world around you both seemed to pause. The books, the shelves, the quiet hum of the library—it all faded.

Your breath caught as you instinctively cupped her cheek—the books on both yours and her hands forgotten as it drops with a thud on the floor, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss. It was warm, lingering, real—the kind of kiss that made every missed chance, every delay, every frustrating almost completely worth it.

When she finally pulled back, her lips barely parted from yours, she whispered, “You’re insufferable.”

You let out a breathless chuckle, forehead resting lightly against hers. “And yet… you’re still here.”

She rolled her eyes, but this time, she was smiling. “Shut up.”

You grinned, brushing a thumb along her cheek. “Make me.”

And just like that, she kissed you again. You groaned softly in her mouth, your hands dropping from her cheek to under her thighs, lifting her up like she weighed nothing while she wrapped her legs around your waist. She gasped slightly, which you took the opportunity to slip your tongue in, intertwining with hers in a slow, deliberate dance. The kiss deepened, turning into something more urgent, more desperate, as if you were making up for all the lost time—the missed moments, the interruptions, the endless waiting.

Tara’s fingers tangled in your hair, pulling just enough to make you groan again. You pressed her back gently against the nearest bookshelf, your grip tightening on her thighs as you held her up effortlessly. A couple of books from the shelf that was supporting Tara fell to the floor, creating a loud thud which made both of you break the kiss.

“We’re in a library” You whispered against her lips.

“Then we should probably keep quiet.” Tara smirked, lips brushing against your jaw.

You opened your mouth—probably to fire back some sarcastic retort—but she silenced you with another kiss, one that made you melt. It was miracle there was barely any people in the library and you were glad no one was there to witness your steamy makeout with Tara. Well...That was until the librarian showed up.

“Excuse me, what is happening here—Oh,” Mrs. Grahams, the elderly librarian, stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening slightly behind her glasses as she took in the sight before her.

Tara, not missing a beat, pushed you away gently but firmly, her voice cutting through the sudden awkwardness. “Not now, Beatrice. I’ve waited too long for this.”

With that, Mrs. Grahams simply walked away, grumbling about how rude the generation are nowadays. You couldn’t blame her, the sight of you and Tara  pressed against the bookshelf, lips slightly swollen, faces way too close to be considered studious, a couple of books lay abandoned on the floor, evidence of your less-than-innocent activities is definitely not a good look.

You sighed and let out a soft chuckle, “You traumatized that poor lady,”

Tara didn’t even flinch at the comment. She adjusted her shirt, tossing a glance toward the librarian’s retreating figure. “I’m not letting anyone—especially a librarian—ruin my chances.”

———

As the two of you made your way to the library exit, the evening air cool against your skin after the stuffy warmth inside, you walked side by side, the lingering tension between you now replaced with an undeniable ease. Tara kept her gaze forward, her hands tucked into her jacket pockets.

You couldn't help but smile, feeling light-hearted for the first time in what seemed like ages. "Well," you said, nudging her gently with your shoulder. "That was definitely an interesting trip to the library."

Tara shot you a quick, half-smile. "You have no idea."

You reached the door, and Tara hesitated just for a moment before stopping. 

She looked over at you, her face turning more serious, though still softened by the smile she couldn’t quite shake off. "I need to go say something to Mrs. Grahams... for, you know, traumatizing her."

You raised an eyebrow, confused for a second, then chuckled softly. "You're going back to apologize? You’re a brave one."

Tara rolled her eyes, her lips curling into a mischievous smirk. "Shut up. She probably thinks I’m some sort of troublemaker now. I’ve been coming here for years—can’t have that reputation."

“Yeah, I should probably apologize too,” You said with a chuckle. “That woman has probably seen me here since high school, it’s the least I could do.”

Both of you stepped into the library again, the warm light from inside casting her in a soft glow as she approached the front desk. Mrs. Grahams looked up from her computer, a knowing look in her eyes as you both stood awkwardly in front of her.

"Mrs. Grahams," Tara started, her tone sincere but with a hint of embarrassment. "I just wanted to apologize for earlier... We didn’t mean to make things uncomfortable for you...And for using your first name."

Mrs. Grahams raised an eyebrow, clearly not used to this kind of apology, but then she softened, offering a small smile. "It’s alright, dear. Just... maybe next time, keep it to the less public places, hmm?"

Tara nodded quickly, grateful. "Of course. I promise, no more making out by the shelves."

“And Y/N, I didn’t expect that from you. I basically raised you, child.” She stated, feigning a strict tone.

Your cheek had a slight pink hue, embarrassed at the attention and comment. The librarian chuckled after seeing your reaction, shaking her head in amusement.

“I’m kidding, please be more mindful next time, eh? I doubt anyone wants to see you both shoving your tongue down each other’s throats.”

You flushed even more, but your lips tugged upward. “We’ll try to be more considerate next time. Thanks Mrs. Grahams.” You gave a small, sheepish wave before grabbing Tara’s hand and heading back toward the door.

“At least we’re off her watchlist. For now.” You gave her a teasing smile. "You’re lucky she didn’t ban you from the library."

Tara smirked. "Please, as if. I’m too cute to ban."

———

You gave Tara a sideway glance, noting the subtle shift in her posture. She was chewing on her lips, clearly caught in her own train of thoughts.

"So," you said, trying to break the awkwardness, "about… everything that happened tonight."

Tara gave you a quick look, then looked back ahead, her voice a little quieter than usual. "Yeah."

You let out a soft sigh, the words you wanted to say feeling heavier than expected. "So, are we... are we actually, like, doing this now?" You motioned between the two of you, trying to lighten the mood, but your heart was beating a little faster as you waited for her answer.

Tara hesitated for a second before she finally spoke. "I mean, are we doing this or not?" Her voice was teasing, but there was an underlying uncertainty in her eyes that you hadn’t expected.

You stopped walking for a moment, forcing her to pause with you. "I think we’re doing this, but... I don’t know, we've never really... said it out loud, you know?"

Her lips curled into a soft smile as she crossed her arms, eyes narrowing a little. "You really want to hear it, huh?"

You shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed but trying to keep the tone light. "I guess I’m just wondering if we're on the same page."

Tara took a deep breath, her shoulders dropping slightly as she looked up at you. "I’ve been waiting for you to ask," she said softly. "Yeah. I’m in. I want to make this work." She paused, her eyes locking onto yours, a little nervous but mostly serious. "I’m yours, if you want me."

You felt a small sense of relief wash over you, your heart warming at the sincerity in her words. "I definitely want you," you said with a grin. "And, for the record, I’m yours too."

Tara's face softened, the playful tension between you both melting away. She nodded, a little sheepish but clearly relieved. "Good. Because I was about to get all mushy on you, but I wasn’t sure if you’d run for the hills."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Mushy? I can handle it, promise."

Tara raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Well, in that case..." She leaned in closer, her breath warm on your face. "I think I can finally say... you’re stuck with me now." You chuckled softly, pulling her into a hug. "I’m good with that," you whispered, feeling the weight of everything finally settle into something solid, something real.

As you pulled back, you both shared a quiet moment, the air between you now full of the quiet joy of finally having a label, a confirmation. It felt right, like something had finally clicked into place.

"So," you asked, breaking the silence, "does this mean I get a kiss now, or…?"

Tara rolled her eyes, but there was that familiar smile playing at the corner of her lips. "You’ve been getting kisses since the library," she teased.

You grinned, reaching for her hand. "Well, now it’s official, so I’m just making sure." With that, you both laughed, the uncertainty that had once hung between you now fully gone. Tara gave in to your request and tip toed to give you a slight peck on the lips and cheek.

You were together, and it felt like the start of something exciting—something that would no longer be interrupted by bad timing or distractions.

And as you walked down the street, hand in hand, Tara leaned in and kissed you, soft but certain.

"Definitely official," she whispered against your lips.

"Definitely," you replied, feeling like the world finally made sense. And for the first time, it felt like nothing was getting in the way.

———

a/n: i'll try my best to be more active from now on! I have a few ideas for pics that I might write down and post, but you're all welcome to send me ideas of your own!! I know this part is slightly short, but I'll try to lengthen up my fics in the future :)

[3igbootyl0ver]

|Who I write for

Jenna Ortega (& the following characters)

Tara Carpenter Wednesday Addams  Astrid Deetz  Cairo Sweet  Mabel 

Elizabeth Olsen (& the following characters)

Wanda Maximoff Leigh Shaw

Mikey Madison (& the following characters)

Anora 

[3igbootyl0ver]

Masterlist

tara carpenter (scream)

A New Face | A New Face Pt.2 | A New Face Pt.3 | A New Face Pt.4

who hurt you? [i] | who hurt you? [ii] | who hurt you? [iii] | who hurt you? [iv] | who hurt you? [v]

doctor's in | doctor's in pt.2 | doctor’s in pt.3

in progress....

[3igbootyl0ver]

i’m gonna tickle u 👴

i’m so scarwed right now

[3igbootyl0ver]

doctor's in [pt.2]

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: When you both couldn't stop thinking about each other, Fate had pushed you both together once again. And this time? Neither of you planned on fighting it.

word count: 4249

a/n: heyyy.......

“Mindy you don’t get it, they were so cute!” Tara groaned, covering her face with her hands to cover up the blush that was forming.

It’s been a week since Tara and her mind has been filled with you since she saw you at the hospital. She couldn’t help but wonder if you felt the same spark between you both. She wasn’t going crazy right? She definitely felt it, unless she was going crazy from the amount of attacks she went through.

“Okay, lovergirl,” Mindy teased, grinning as she nudged Tara’s shoulder. “You barely know them, and you’re already acting like a lovesick puppy.”

Tara groaned again, flopping onto the couch. “I can,’t help it! They were just…ugh, perfect.” “Have you checked if they’re not secretly Ghostface who wants to kill you?” Mindy quipped, watching Tara roll her eyes and ignore the comment

Mindy smirked. “So, what’s the plan? Gonna fake another near-death experience just to see them again?” Tara shot her a glare. “Not funny.” “Then find them,” Mindy said with a shrug. “You have their last name, their workplace, and yet, somehow, it never crossed your mind to look them up? Come on, Tar, get it together.”

Tara blinked. That… wasn’t a bad idea. “Why didn’t I think of that?” She muttered, already reaching for her phone.

Mindy snorted, “Because you’re too busy daydreaming about them like this is some rom-com—where they’ll show up at your doorstep if you think about them hard enough.”

Tara ignored her, already unlocking her phone. Her fingered hovered over the keyboard. Was this weird? What if you don’t remember her?

Mindy sighed dramatically after seeing her hesitation. “Oh my god, just do it. Worst case? Nothing comes up. Best case? You find them, fall madly in love, and live happily ever after.”

Tara rolled her eyes but took a deep breath and typed your last name into the search bar.

———

“Holy shit, they are cute. And here I thought you just had a weird thing for old geezers,” Mindy tease, leaning over to peek at Tara’s phone. “They look way too young to be a doctor, though” 

Tara didn’t respond—mostly because she was too busy staring. Yeah, she was definitely drooling. 

She’d gotten lucky, stumbling across a picture of you on the hospital’s website; It was a group photo, one where you were right beside the nurse that Tara had met before. You were all in your glory, looking effortlessly alluring dressed in a crisp white coat, your hair neatly styled, with intelligent eyes that seemed to see right through the screen. The slight tilt of your head gave you an air of quiet confidence, and the tortoiseshell glasses resting on your nose only added to your charm. 

Tara’s faint smile slowly faded as her eyes landed on the nurse beside you—the same nurse Tara had met; the one that stitched her up.

Her hand was casually wrapped around your arm. Of course, you were taken. Tara let out a quiet sigh, ignoring the pang of disappointment settling in her chest.

Her fingers hovered over the screen, debating whether to keep looking or just close the page altogether. She hated this feeling—the stupid twist in her stomach, the sting of something that felt too much like jealousy for someone she barely knew.

“Whoa, hold up—why do you look like you just got stabbed again?” Mindy asked, finally noticing Tara’s expression. Her teasing tone softened just a little. “What happened?”

Tara hesitated before muttering, “They’re probably dating that nurse.” Mindy glanced at the screen and snorted. “That? Please, that’s not dating. That’s just coworker touchy. You’re seriously overthinking it.”

Tara frowned, her grip tightening on her phone. Could that really be true? Just harmless, casual touching? She wanted to believe it—but the doubt still lingered.

“Anyways, we need to hit the library tomorrow for the project,”Mindy said, stretching. “College is gonna kill us if Ghostface doesn’t get to us first.”

Tara barely registered her words, too caught up in the whirlwind on thoughts of you spinning in her head.

———

“Nice work on the surgery, Y/L/N,” Your chief said, offering a brief but approving smile. “By the way, you’ve got your paper due soon. Don’t forget.”

You nodded, trying to hide the rush of adrenaline still coursing through you from the successful procedure. “Got it, I’ll have it ready,” you replied, but your mind was already spinning between the surgical success and the looming deadline. You’d been chipping away at the paper for weeks, yet there was still so much left to do.

“Guess I’ll have to do another all-nighter then,” You murmured under your breath, stripping off your gloves and beginning to clean up.

As you scrubbed your hands, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling the air, your thoughts drifted to something—or rather, someone—else. The girl you met a few weeks ago. The way she had looked at you, eyes warm and filled with something you couldn’t quite name, had lingered in your mind far longer than you expected. It was ridiculous, really. You barely knew her. And yet, the memory of her smile, the quiet ease of your conversation, had carved its way into your thoughts, slipping in when you least expected it.

Would you ever see her again?

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as if that would clear her from your mind. You had too much on your plate to be thinking about someone who was, for all you knew, just a passing moment. Still, as you finished cleaning up and pulled off your scrub cap, you couldn’t quite ignore the way your heart skipped at the thought. 

You scraped through the rest of the day on autopilot, your body moving through the motions while your mind remained elsewhere—split between the surgery, the looming deadline, and the memory of her. The hours blurred together, a constant cycle of rounds, notes, and half-heard conversations. You barely registered the passing faces, too preoccupied to truly engage.

It wasn’t until a firm hand landed on your shoulder that you jolted, your heart lurching in surprise.

“You good?” A familiar voice asked, tinged with amusement.

You turned quickly, exhaling when you saw your colleague—Stacy—watching you with a raised brow. “Didn’t mean to spook you,” she added, though the smirk on her face suggested she wasn’t exactly sorry.

You forced a tired smile. “Yeah, just…a lot on my mind.”

“That is much obvious.” She crossed her arms, tilting her head while eyeing you knowingly. “And let me guess—it’s not just the paper that’s got you looking like a lovesick zombie.”

You blinked, thrown off for a second. “What?”

Your colleague scoffed, shaking her head. “Please. You’ve been spacing out all day, and I know that look.” Stacy smirked. “It’s her, isn’t it? Tara?”

At the sound of her name, you felt warmth creep up your neck. You opened your mouth to deny it, but the knowing glint in her eyes told you it was useless. Instead, you sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“I don’t even know if I’ll ever see her again,” you admitted.

Stacy shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But if she’s got you this distracted, you definitely want to.” She nudged your arm playfully. “So maybe you should do something about it.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Like I have time for that.”

“Right, because pulling all-nighters over your paper is such a better use of your time,” She teased, crossing her arms with a smirk.

Rolling your eyes, you redirected the conversation before she could drag you any deeper into this mess. “Oh, by the way, I need you to come with me to the library to work on my paper. And don’t forget—you have one too,” you said, keeping your tone deliberately casual, as if you hadn’t just been caught daydreaming about a patient.

Stacy, of course, saw right through you. She just rolled her eyes, nodding along, but her knowing grin didn’t fade. “Mmm-hmm,” she hummed, clearly entertained. “Look, I’m just saying—if she’s still on your mind after all this time, maybe it’s worth figuring out why.”

You wanted to brush it off, just like you had all day, but her words lingered, sticking in your chest in a way you couldn’t ignore. Maybe she had a point. Maybe this wasn’t just some fleeting thought you could dismiss.

Then, just as you started to shake the feeling away, Stacy added with a sly grin, “Oh, I mayyy have forgotten to mention this, but the little birdie was asking a lot of questions about you when I was fixing her up.”

Your stomach dropped. “Wait, what?”

Stacy grinned wider, clearly enjoying this.

“Stacy!”

“See you at six tomorrow!” Stacy called over her shoulder, her tone far too casual for someone who had just casually detonated a bomb in your brain. She walked off without a care, completely ignoring the way you stood frozen in place, struggling to process what she had just dropped on you.

Your mind raced. Tara was asking about me?

You wanted to demand more details, to chase after Stacy and wring the full story out of her, but your body refused to move. Instead, you stood there, replaying her words on a loop while she disappeared down the hall, acting completely oblivious to your impending mental breakdown.

Great. As if you didn’t already have enough on your plate.

———

Dragging yourself into the library, you exhaled tiredly, already dreading the long night ahead. Stacy, walking beside you, nudged your arm with a smirk.

“See? I showed up. I can be responsible,” she said.

“You showed up to watch me suffer,” you muttered, earning a laugh from her.

You weaved through the aisles, looking for an open table in a quieter corner. The library was busier than expected, with students hunched over laptops and textbooks, the soft hum of whispered conversations filling the air. You finally spotted a table near the back and made your way over, dropping your bag onto the chair. And then—

Thunk.

You flinched as another bag landed in the chair across from you at the exact same time.

Your gaze snapped up, and your breath hitched.

Tara.

She blinked at you, clearly just as startled, her hand still resting on the back of the chair.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Neither of you had expected to see the other, and for a long second, you just… stared.

“What are you—”

“What are you—”

You both started speaking at the same time, then immediately stopped.

“Oh. My. God.” Mindy’s voice broke the silence as she came up behind Tara, amusement practically radiating off her. “Of all the tables in this library… really?”

Stacy, not missing a beat, leaned against your chair with an expression that screamed this is the best thing that’s happened to me all week. “Huh. What are the odds?”

Tara cleared her throat, shifting her weight. “We… just needed a place to study.”

“So did we,” you said, still trying to process the fact that she was standing in front of you.

Mindy grinned. “Well, I don’t see any other free tables, sooo…” She dramatically pulled out the chair beside Tara and plopped down. “Guess we’re all studying together. How convenient.”

You turned to Stacy, who was already sitting down, looking way too entertained. She shot you a wink (which Tara wasn’t pleased about). You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. This was not how you thought your night would go.

But as you stole a glance at Tara—her eyes flicking to yours for a brief second before she quickly focused on pulling out her laptop—you weren’t sure if it was entirely a bad thing.

You couldn’t hear it, but Mindy leaned over Tara’s ear to whisper, “You’re not lying, they look even better in person.” She teased, which earned a glare from the shorter girl.

———

It seemed as if Mindy and Stacy knew exactly what was happening—and, even worse, had silently decided to team up against you.

You weren’t sure how, but the two of them had effortlessly fallen into some kind of unspoken alliance, exchanging glances and barely hiding their smirks as they settled into their seats. Tara cleared her throat, shifting awkwardly as she opened her laptop. You could tell she was just as thrown off as you were, but neither of you had a chance to process it properly before Mindy spoke up.

“So, funny how you two just happened to pick the same table,” she mused, tapping her fingers on the desk. “Like, out of all the places to sit, here? What are the chances?”

Stacy hummed in agreement, resting her chin in her palm. “Crazy, right? Almost like fate is trying to tell you something.”

You shot her a glare. “Don’t start.”

Tara, meanwhile, was already rolling her eyes at Mindy. “It’s literally just a coincidence.” Mindy gasped dramatically. “Is it though? Is it?”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Can we just work on our papers?”

“Of course,” Stacy said innocently, pulling out her notes. “Wouldn’t want to distract you.”

“Not at all,” Mindy added. “You two just carry on. Don’t mind us.”

You didn’t trust them for a second. Neither did Tara, if the suspicious glance she threw Mindy was anything to go by.

Still, despite the heat creeping up your neck, and the undeniable energy lingering between you and Tara, you forced yourself to focus on your laptop screen. You were here to study. That was it.

Even if Stacy and Mindy were whispering to each other like middle schoolers passing notes.

Even if Tara was sitting just close enough that you could pick up the faintest scent of her perfume.

Even if your heart definitely shouldn’t have been beating this fast.

Your train of thought was abruptly derailed when Mindy cleared her throat—loudly, as if she were about to propose a business deal.

“Well,” she started, sitting up straighter, “Stacy and I will be going to grab coffee for us.” She stretched dramatically before giving you and Tara a pointed look. “Behave while we’re gone, kids.”

Before you could even respond, she was already standing up, her grin far too smug for your liking. Stacy, ever the enabler, immediately followed her lead, but not before briefly squeezing your hand—a small, reassuring gesture that, under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have thought much about.

But Tara definitely did.

You caught the way her expression shifted—just the smallest flicker of something unreadable in her eyes before she quickly refocused on her laptop, fingers poised over the keyboard as if she were suddenly very interested in typing.

Stacy, who definitely noticed too, smirked as she walked off with Mindy, whispering something that made them both chuckle.

You exhaled, rubbing your temple. “I hate them.” Tara let out a dry chuckle, though she still wasn’t looking at you. “They’re insufferable.”

A pause.

The air between you felt heavier now—charged with something neither of you acknowledged, but both of you felt.

You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat. “So… what are you working on?”

Tara finally glanced at you, her lips twitching as if she were fighting back a smirk. “Are we really doing small talk?”

“Well, considering our mutual friends just abandoned us for their little matchmaking scheme, I figured I might as well try to act normal.”

Tara hummed, tilting her head slightly. “And you’re sure Stacy’s not just your girlfriend?”

Your brain short-circuited for a second. “Wait—what?”

Tara shrugged, feigning nonchalance as she focused back on her screen. “Nothing. Just… looked like flirting to me.”

You blinked, still trying to process the fact that she had even said that. And—was that a hint of something else in her tone?

You shook your head, exhaling a laugh. “Stacy? No. Absolutely not.”

Tara raised a skeptical brow but didn’t press further. Still, the fact that she even asked made something flutter in your chest.

“Well, how’s your injuries holding up? Your stitches healing okay?” You asked, genuinely curious, but also trying to find a way to keep the conversation flowing.

Tara gave you a sidelong glance before shrugging. “Yeah, they’re fine. Stacy did a good job.”

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin forming. “Oh, so now you’re saying Stacy’s the one to thank for that? I’m hurt, Tara.”

She chuckled, rolling her eyes at you. “Don’t be dramatic. You did your part. And don’t pretend you weren’t already planning on making a joke about my stitches anyway.”

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. “What can I say? I’m a professional.”

Tara shot you a skeptical look, but the faintest smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah, well, professionals don’t flirt with their patients.”

You gave her a playful shrug, deciding to go for it. “You say flirting, I say charming.”

Tara raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “You’re full of yourself, huh?”

You leaned back, casually adjusting your posture. “Only when I’m in the presence of such impressive company.” Tara couldn’t suppress a smirk this time, but she quickly shook her head, pretending to go back to her work. “You really think you’re smooth, don’t you?”

“Just speaking the truth,” you shot back, a little bolder now. “You’re hard to resist, you know.”

Tara glanced up at you, her gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.” The playful back-and-forth settled into a comfortable rhythm, neither of you pushing too hard, but both of you enjoying the easy tension building in the air. 

Every time Tara’s eyes flicked to yours or the corner of her mouth quirked up, you couldn’t help but feel like there was something more beneath the surface. “Just for the record,” you added casually, “If I had been the one stitching you up, I would’ve made sure those stitches were extra perfect.”

Tara raised an eyebrow. “Oh, would you now?”

“Absolutely,” you grinned. “Can’t let a beautiful patient like you go home with anything less than perfect work.”

Tara laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“But I’m charming,” you teased.

Her smile softened as she met your gaze, and for a brief moment, the playful banter was replaced by something warmer. “Yeah, you might be right about that.”

———

The slight banter had toned down once you both were “focusing” on your work. As much as you would’ve liked to keep up the ‘flirting’, you really had to get something—anything—done before the night was over.

Tara, on the other hand, was panicking.

Her fingers hovered over her keyboard, occasionally typing a few words just to make it seem like she was working. But in reality, she wasn’t processing a single thing on her screen. Her mind kept replaying the way you’d leaned in, the way your voice had dropped just slightly, the way you’d so effortlessly called her beautiful—like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She barely suppressed a groan, shifting in her seat in frustration.

Get a grip, Carpenter.

“Alright, nerds, we’re back,” she announced, placing a tray of coffee cups on the table. “And we come bearing life-saving caffeine.”

Stacy set down another tray beside her, grinning. “Each of these has at least three shots of espresso. If we crash, we crash together.”

You raised an eyebrow as you grabbed your cup. “So basically, we’re all risking heart palpitations tonight.”

“Exactly,” Mindy said with a smirk, handing Tara her drink. “But hey, maybe some of us need the extra boost. You looked a little distracted over here.”

Tara froze for half a second before glaring at her. “I was working.”

Mindy smirked. “Sure you were.”

You took a sip of your coffee, trying to hide your amused expression as Stacy slid into her seat next to you, nudging your arm. “So,” she whispered low enough that only you could hear, “how was your study date?” You rolled your eyes but didn’t answer, which only made her smirk widen.

Tara, meanwhile, was gripping her cup a little too tightly, her face heating up all over again. She swore she’d get Mindy back for this later.

Tara had to admit it—the whole time you were talking to Stacy about your… doctor stuff, her heart was doing that annoying fluttering thing she couldn’t control.

She wasn’t even following half of what you were saying, something about procedures and techniques that had no business sounding as good as they did coming from your mouth. But there was something about the way you spoke—so confident, so passionate—that made her yearn for more.

The way your lips moved, the occasional smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth when you made a sarcastic remark, the way your eyes lit up when you explained something in detail—Tara was done for.

She hated it.

Well.

She tried to hate it.

But as much as she wanted to focus on literally anything else, all she could think about was how easy it would be to just close the space between you, to press her lips against yours just to see if you tasted as sweet as you sounded.

God, get it together, Carpenter.

She snapped out of it just as Stacy nudged your arm, laughing at something you said. Tara clenched her jaw.

She was definitely not jealous. Not at all.

———

After what felt like an eternity—and far too much caffeine—you finally stretched in your chair, letting out a deep sigh. Your brain was fried, your eyes burned from staring at your screen for so long, but at least you had something to show for it.

“Done,” you muttered, closing your laptop with finality.

Across from you, Tara let out a breath of relief, mirroring your actions. “Thank God.”

Mindy and Stacy, who had been whispering to each other suspiciously for the past twenty minutes after apparently, “needing a break from work”, perked up at the sound.

“Finally!” Mindy groaned, dramatically throwing her head back. “I thought I was gonna die in here.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Tara scoffed, standing up and stretching.

Stacy grinned, nudging you again as she gathered her things. “So, was this the most productive study session you’ve ever had?”

You shot her a glare, but before you could reply, Mindy cut in.

“I don’t know, Stacy. I think our dear friend here got a lot out of it.” She wiggled her eyebrows, looking between you and Tara. “Maybe not just in an academic sense.”

Tara groaned, rubbing her temple. “I hate you.”

Mindy beamed. “I know.”

You sighed, standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Are we leaving or are you two just gonna keep being insufferable?”

Stacy looped an arm through yours with a smirk. “Oh, we can do both.”

Tara shook her head, but you caught the way she fought back a smile. As you all stepped out into the cool night air, the exhaustion was undeniable, but so was the warmth lingering from the night’s unexpected turns.

Maybe Stacy and Mindy’s antics weren’t entirely awful.

“It was nice seeing you again, really. I’m glad you healed up well.” You announced, trying to create a conversation after all four of you packed up and left the library. You couldn’t help but notice how both of you slowed down your paced, trying to match each other’s steps without really meaning to.

Tara glanced up at you, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her eat. “Yeah… you too.” Her voice softer than before, lacking the usual sarcasm she used as a shield.

You smiled, shoving your hands into your pockets as the cool night air settled around you. “Hopefully next time we see each other, it won’t be because of an injury.”

Tara smirked. “So you’re saying you want to see me again?”

You chuckled, tilting your head slightly. “I mean… I wouldn’t complain.”

She bit her lip, looking away briefly before glancing back at you. “Well, if you ever get tired of pulling all-nighters over medical papers, maybe we could… I don’t know, run into each other somewhere else.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin forming. “Are you asking me out, Carpenter?”

Tara rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, she reached for your phone—the one you had been absentmindedly holding—and swiftly typed something before handing it back.

You glanced down at the screen.

A new contact.

Tara :)

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you looked back up at her. “Oh? Giving me your number now? Bold move, Carpenter.”

She shrugged, but the slight flush on her cheeks gave her away. “Just in case, you know… you ever need to run into me again.”

You chuckled, saving the contact without hesitation. “Noted.”

Tara lingered for a second, like she was debating something. Then, with a small smirk of her own, she added, “Don’t keep me waiting too long, doctor.”

You smiled. “Get home safe, Carpenter.”

Tara bit her lip before responding, her voice softer this time. “You too, doctor.”

And with that, she turned and walked toward Mindy, who was very clearly trying to contain her excitement. Stacy nudged you as you stared after her, shaking her head with a knowing grin.

“Don’t say a word,” you muttered as you walked off with her.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Stacy teased. “I don’t need to. That look on your face says everything.”

You just shook your head, unable to stop the small smile forming on your lips.

“Oh, you’re so done for,” she teased.

Maybe you were.

And for once?

You didn’t mind one bit.

———

a/n: i know i said i would posted this like at least a week ago but i was literally sick for the whole week guys lol mb. anyways i do have a few pics planned out, but it's not confirmed when or if I'll ever do it lol since i don't really have much time to write nowadays. ok bye i hoped you liked this fic hehehe

p.s any doctor stuff that's inaccurate don't blame me idk how med school works and stuff; blame google instead :p

[3igbootyl0ver]

doctor's in

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: After surviving another Ghostface attack, Tara meets a calm and compassionate doctor, Y/N, who helps her throughout her stay in the hospital, leaving a lasting impression.

word count: 3405

“If you ever need me, just call,” Kirby declared, her voice rasping slightly from dehydration. A wave of relief washed over her as the nightmare finally came to an end.

“We’re all part of the same messed-up family now. Legacy doesn’t always have to be a bad thing, okay?” she said softly.

The air settled into a comfortable silence, with both Tara and Sam finally beginning to relax after the relentless attacks. But the peace shattered when Tara started to weep, the memory of her injured friend resurfacing—a haunting reminder that Chad might not have made it.

Sam and Kirby exchanged concerned looks, their eyes silently urging Tara to speak.

“Just... Chad,” Tara whispered, her voice breaking.

“Hey, we’ve got another one over here!” a voice shouted, snapping everyone’s attention and pulling Tara out of her spiral of negative thoughts.

Her eyes darted towards the commotion, and her breath caught when she saw her best friend being wheeled toward an ambulance on a gurney. His face was pale, his body still, but the steady rise and fall of his chest brought a glimmer of hope. Tara’s tears turned into a sob of relief as she and Sam, hands trembling, dashed toward him.

“How are you even alive?” Sam blurted out, astonished that he had somehow survived at least ten stab wounds.

Chad managed a weak grin and raised four fingers, his silent response making both Sam and Tara scoff in disbelief.

“Core fucking four,” Tara confirmed with a small smile, pulling her friend into a heartfelt hug.

The moment was cut short when Mindy approached, grinning as she began to ramble about Ghostface, as if they hadn’t already pieced it together. Before they could respond, a paramedic stepped in, gently guiding Chad and Mindy toward the ambulance to tend to their wounds.

Both Tara and Sam shared a breath of relief, grateful to have survived another nightmare. For a moment, a fragile hope lingered between them—the possibility that this franchise of terror had finally come to an end.

Tara hissed as a sharp sting radiated from her abdomen. Glancing down, she noticed a small patch of blood seeping through her shirt—her stitches must have torn from hugging Chad too tightly earlier.

Sam’s eyes narrowed in concern as she noticed Tara clutching her side. Without hesitation, she guided her little sister toward a nearby paramedic, determined to ease her pain and ensure she was cared for.

“Hey, can you help my sister?” Sam queried, your back facing her as you were packing up your first aid supplies into a bag.

You turned around the face the sisters, your sharp eyes quickly detecting the issue as Tara clutched on her abdomen. You immediately took charge and instructed Tara to sit on the platform of the ambulance.

As the paramedic knelt in front of her, their fingers brushing hers to gently move her hand away from her injury, Tara felt her pulse quicken. It wasn’t just the pain from the wound—there was something about the steady calm in their eyes, the soft yet firm pressure of their touch, that made her feel safe in a way she hadn’t in a long time. The world outside, the chaos of the night, seemed to blur as she focused on their quiet presence.

She hadn’t expected it, but the more you moved with such confident care, the more she found herself wanting to know you. Just to thank them properly. Maybe more than that. You knelt beside Tara, trying to ignore the faint blush creeping up your neck after noticing how she was staring at you. Her voice trembled as she explained how she got her injury, and you couldn’t help but notice the vulnerability in her tone. It tugged at something deep within you—a mix of pity and something harder to name.

“Looks like your stitches tore,” You said, voice steady but concerned. “We need to make sure there’s no internal bleeding, okay?”

Before Tara could respond, you took out a stethoscope from around your neck and placed the earpieces in your ear. You moved your fingers to Tara’s lower abdomen, feeling carefully for signs of any internal damage, and then listened intently through the stethoscope.

Tara lay still, trying to steady her breath, feeling the subtle pressure of your hand on her abdomen. She couldn’t tell if the rapid thumping in her chest was a result of the pain from her injury or the way you  moved your expert hands gently across her skin, sending unexpected tremors through her.

“I’m not hearing anything concerning yet, but we’ll get you checked at the hospital just to be sure,” You explained, removing the stethoscope. “You’re still stable.”

Sam’s hand tightened around Tara’s, relief flooding her. "Thank you," she whispered, though the fear still lingered in her eyes.

You stole a glance at Tara as she sat silently, her hands trembling in her lap. There was something about the way she tried to hide her fear that made your chest tighten. You weren’t sure if it was pity or the strange, protective urge bubbling within you.

Both of them followed your lead into the ambulance, settling carefully in the back to ensure they were comfortable. You glanced back at them briefly before heading toward the driver’s seat. Tara’s face was still flushed, her thoughts lingering on the way your hand had rested lightly on her waist when she struggled to climb into the vehicle. The touch, so gentle yet somehow grounding, had stirred something unexpected within her.

Sam’s eyes softened as she noticed the way Tara’s cheeks flushed. “Tara, seriously. You almost died today.”

Tara swallowed, her voice quiet but defiant. “I know. But… they were kind. And, yeah, cute. So what?”

Sam raised an eyebrow but didn’t press her. She was too relieved to see Tara okay. For now, she let her little sister hold onto that bit of normalcy, even if it was a little misplaced.

———

“It’s not a serious wound, so I’ll stitch you up soon, and you can sign those papers to leave right away,” the doctor explained while preparing the supplies needed for the suture.

Tara nodded absentmindedly, her thoughts drifting. As the doctor continued to explain the mini-procedure, Tara’s mind lingered on you—the paramedic who had been in the ambulance with her. Except, as it turned out, you weren’t really a paramedic at all. You’d been calm, kind, and surprisingly attentive, and she couldn’t help but wonder who you really were.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Tara blurted out, breaking the doctor’s explanation mid-sentence, “but I was wondering… the person who came with me in the ambulance, where are they?”

The doctor stopped and glanced up from her tray of instruments, arching a brow. “The paramedic?”

“Yeah,” Tara said quickly, though the word felt wrong now. “I think they said their name was Y/L/N?”

A flicker of recognition passed over the doctor’s face, and she gave a small, distracted nod as she went back to arranging her tools. “Oh, Doctor Y/L/N? They’re not a paramedic. They’re a physician here—just happened to volunteer to ride along because we were short-staffed tonight. They’re probably somewhere checking on patients. It’s been a hectic shift.”

Tara blinked, caught off guard. “They’re a doctor?”

“Mm-hm,” the doctor confirmed, her tone clipped. She seemed more interested in finishing up quickly than continuing the conversation.

Tara leaned back slightly, letting the information sink in. That explained a lot—your confidence, the way you handled her injuries so effortlessly. And yet, it raised more questions. You hadn’t mentioned being a doctor. Did you always downplay yourself like that? Or had you been too focused on helping her to say more?

She suddenly realized how disappointed she felt that you weren’t here now. She had hoped to see you again, maybe even expecting you to stitch her up instead of someone else.

“I didn’t know,” Tara murmured, almost to herself.

The doctor glanced at her briefly but said nothing, clearly eager to finish the suturing.

Tara hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Do you know where they might be?”

The doctor sighed softly, not unkindly, but with the weariness of someone who had been asked too many questions in one night. “Probably somewhere in the ER. If you’re that curious, you can always ask at the nurses’ station when you’re done here. They’d know.”

Tara nodded slowly, a faint flicker of determination lighting in her chest. “Thanks.”

As the doctor began stitching her up, Tara resolved to find you before she left. There was something about you she couldn’t shake—a quiet confidence, a warmth she wasn’t used to. She wasn’t sure why it mattered so much, but she knew she couldn’t leave without at least trying to see you again.

After the doctor was done with stitching Tara up, she gave a curt nod to both Tara and Sam—instructing them to sign the discharge papers at the reception area.

Tara slid off the exam table, feeling a little unsteady but determined. Sam was already holding the clipboard, scrawling her name with a tired sigh.

“Finally,” Sam muttered. “Let’s get these signed and get out of here. I need sleep after the night we’ve had.”

Throughout the chaos radiating from the ER, the fluorescent lights reflecting off the sterile white walls, Tara couldn’t help but feel a familiar weight pressing down on her chest. The organized commotion—the beeping monitors, hurried footsteps, and faint voices of medical staff—was a sensory overload, but it wasn’t unfamiliar.

She was back in a hospital, back in a place that should’ve meant safety but instead brought memories of pain, fear, and helplessness.

As Tara sat in the sterile room, the familiar hum of machines brought a tightening in her chest. It was the same feeling she had a year ago in Woodsboro—vulnerable, alone, barely holding on. Her memories of that night still haunted her, but now, there was something different. There was someone there, not Ghostface, but someone who’d held her hand through her panic. Someone who had treated her with quiet care.

Her breathing quickened as flashes of that night replayed in her mind: the sharp sting of the knife, the searing pain of betrayal as someone she’d trusted turned out to be her attacker. She remembered the sterile room, the aching loneliness, and the constant terror that Ghostface might come back for her.

Back then, her body had been broken, her wounds fresh, and her spirit barely hanging on by a thread. She’d woken up to the chilling realization that she was alone in her fight for survival. No one had been there to hold her hand, to tell her it would be okay. The only certainty she’d had was that Ghostface was out there, waiting for another chance to finish what he’d started.

Her breath began to quicken.

At first, Tara thought it was just the anxiety tightening her chest, but soon her breaths became shorter, raspier. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead as her lungs tightened painfully, and her hands instinctively went to her chest. Her vision blurred at the edges as panic set in.

Amid her inner turmoil, Sam’s voice cut through the chaos. She noticed Tara’s breathing immediately—the rapid, shallow gasps, the slight trembling of her hands. It was all too familiar.

“Tara?” Sam’s voice was sharp with worry as she turned toward her sister. When Tara didn’t respond, her panic rose. “Can someone get my sister help? Please!” Sam called out, her voice wavering with desperation

——

You were in the middle of tending to an elderly patient, Mr. Day, who had been complaining about lingering back pain. You listened attentively, nodding as he spoke.

“It’s like a knot that won’t go away,” the man grumbled, shifting uncomfortably in the bed.

“I understand,” you said calmly. “Let’s take a look—”

Before you could finish, the commotion outside the room drew your attention. A pleading voice rang out, urgent and strained.

You glanced at Mr. Day apologetically. “Just a moment, Mr. Day. I’ll be right with you.”

“Get me some pain meds while you’re at it, would ya?” he grumbled, waving you off.

You nodded absently, already moving toward the hallway. As you stepped out, you saw the same girl in the ambulance—Tara, sitting in a chair, hunched over, her hand clutching her chest as she gasped for air. Her sister, Sam was beside her, frantically looking around for help.

Your pulse quickened, but your movements remained calm and deliberate. You approached quickly, crouching down beside Tara.

“She’s having an asthma attack,” Sam said, her voice trembling. “She doesn’t have her inhaler.”

You nodded, assessing Tara’s condition with practiced ease. “I’ve got this,” you said to Sam, your voice steady and reassuring.

“Tara,” you said gently, drawing her focus to you. “I’m here to help, okay? I need you to trust me.”

Her wide, panicked eyes met yours, and she nodded weakly.

“Sam, can you grab a nurse and ask for an albuterol inhaler with a spacer, now?” you instructed firmly. Sam didn’t hesitate, running toward the nurses’ station.

You turned back to Tara. “I need you to try and slow your breathing. I know it’s hard, but I want you to follow me. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

She tried, her breaths ragged and uneven, but her chest remained tight. You kept your voice calm, unwavering. “That’s it. Slow and steady. You’re doing great.”

Her trembling hand suddenly reached out, finding yours. Her grip was weak but desperate, her fingers curling tightly around your own. The gesture startled you for only a moment before you gently squeezed back, letting her know you were there. Your touch was warm, a contrast against the cold sterility of the hospital. The firm pressure of your fingers felt grounding, pulling her back from the brink.

“It’s okay,” you said softly, your voice soothing. “I’ve got you. You’re not alone in this.”

Moments later, Sam returned with a nurse who handed you the inhaler and spacer. You quickly attached the spacer and held it out to Tara.

“Okay, Tara, put your lips around this, nice and tight,” you instructed, your tone firm but kind. “When I press the inhaler, take a slow, deep breath in and hold it for as long as you can.”

Tara nodded weakly, following your guidance as you administered the first puff. She inhaled deeply, her grip on your hand tightening momentarily before easing while her other hand covered yours that was holding the inhaler. You repeated the process, encouraging her to take another measured breath.

As you continue to console her, Tara’s chest heaved, each breath catching in her throat like jagged glass. The room spun less violently now, though the fluorescent lights still pressed on her like a weight. Your hand was steady against hers, a tether in the storm. Breathe, Tara. Just breathe. She closed her eyes, focusing on their words. The chaos around her dulled—a faint buzz instead of an overwhelming roar. Slowly, her breaths deepened, her fingers unclenching from where they gripped the edge of the stretcher while the other was focusing on your thumb that was soothing her hand.

After a few moments, her breathing began to even out, the tightness in her chest loosening bit by bit. Her shoulders sagged as the panic ebbed, replaced by relief.

“Better?” you asked softly, watching her carefully.

Tara nodded, her breaths still shaky but deeper now. “Yeah,” she managed, her voice hoarse.

You didn’t let go of her hand just yet, giving it one final reassuring squeeze. “You’re okay now,” you murmured. “Just keep taking it slow. You did great.”

Tears welled in her eyes, though she quickly blinked them away. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Sam’s hands clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms. Seeing Tara like this—struggling to breathe, barely holding it together—hit her like a punch to the gut. She wanted to scream, to yell at the doctors to move faster, but all she could do was stand there, useless. ‘I promised I’d protect her,’ she thought, her jaw tightening. ‘How the hell am I supposed to do that when she’s falling apart like this?’

Sam crouched beside her. “You scared the hell out of me, you know that?” Her voice cracked, barely a whisper. “I can’t—I can’t lose you, Tara.”

“I’m fine now,” Tara murmured, her voice steadier.

As you stood, handing the inhaler to Sam, you offered a parting reassurance. “Keep this with her, just in case. She’ll need to rest for a bit, but she’s stable.”

Sam looked up at you, gratitude shining in her eyes. “Thank you. Really.”

You nodded, smiling softly before turning back to Tara. “Take care of yourself, okay? And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

——

You followed the Carpenter sisters to sign their discharge papers, the quiet hum of the hospital filling the comfortable silence between you. Tara, walking just a step ahead of her sister, glanced over her shoulder at you.

“I didn’t know you were a doctor. I thought you were a paramedic,” she said, her voice soft but curious.

You chuckled lightly, the sound warm and unguarded. Tara’s heart fluttered at the sound, and it scared her a little—how someone she barely knew could affect her so much.

“Sorry about that,” you replied with a teasing smile. “Didn’t think my job title mattered much when you were, you know, trying to breathe.”

Tara let out a small laugh, the tension from earlier easing. “Fair point.”

The brief exchange brought a faint blush to her cheeks, but she pressed on. “Honestly? I don’t really care about the title anyway,” she admitted, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Whether it’s a doctor or a paramedic, you’re still helping people when they need it most. That’s what matters, right?”

Tara’s gaze lingered, and for a moment, you felt exposed, as though she could see right through you. Heat crept up your neck, and you looked away, pretending to check your watch. Why was she looking at you like that?

Her words made you pause for a moment, glancing at her with a faint smile. “Exactly,” you said. “That’s how I see it, too. It’s not about the title—it’s about making a difference. As long as I’m helping someone, I’m doing my job.”

The sincerity in your voice struck a chord in Tara. She found herself studying you—the way your eyes softened as you spoke, the calm confidence in your stance. Passionate, compassionate, smart, and…cute, she thought, her heart skipping a beat.

Sam, who had been quietly observing the interaction, cleared her throat. “Well, thanks, Doc, for everything. We’ll let you get back to saving lives now.”

You gave a small nod, flashing them a kind smile. “Take care, Tara. And you too, Sam.”

"Thanks," Tara said quietly, her lips curling into a faint smile.

You nodded, feeling your words catch in your throat. Why did you suddenly forget how to speak? You managed a quick, "Anytime," before busying yourself with the clipboard in your hand.

As you walked away, Tara found herself staring after you, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Great, she thought, her cheeks heating. Now I’m going to be thinking about them for the rest of the day.

 Tara’s gaze lingered on you, a mixture of lingering vulnerability and something softer—an unspoken connection that hadn’t been there before. Her chest felt lighter now, the immediate panic subsiding, but she couldn’t shake the way your calm, steady presence had steadied her in the chaos.

By the time Sam and Tara finally hopped into a cab to head home, Tara felt a mix of exhaustion and disbelief settling over her. She slumped into her seat, exhaustion weighing her down. The night had been chaotic, leaving her reeling from everything that had happened. But then it hit her—she hadn’t done the one thing she’d been meaning to since she was first under your care.

She hadn’t gotten your number.

“Fuck.”

She wanted to thank you properly, to say (and do) something more than the rushed gratitude she’d managed back there. But now, the opportunity had slipped through her fingers. Her lips pressed into a thin line. No, she thought, determined. This isn’t over. Her mind was made up. She didn’t know how, but she was going to find you again. And next time, she wouldn’t leave without your number.

----------

a/n: Hi hehehehe will post pt 2 in a few weeks

[3igbootyl0ver]

who hurt you? [v]

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: After finally getting justice, Tara decides to take a step further into your friendship.

word count: 4407

warnings: mentions of abuse, slight angst (insecurity, self doubt), (don’t worry bc it’s all fluff now 😈)

a/n: happy new year everyone! may 2025 bring you endless joy, success, and cherished moments with loved ones :)

part [i] | part [ii] | part [iii] | part [iv]

Tara stands in a familiar room, the air heavy with the heavy scent of Ambers scent. She was at her old house, the one she left weeks ago, but it feels different now. Smaller. Claustraphobic. The walls seem to inch closer, the ceiling pressing downward, as if the entire space is collapsing in slow motion.

“Did you really think you could leave me?” Her voice cuts through the air like shattered glass. She spins around, but she’s not there. Only a shadow flickers on the wall, impossibly tall, stretching toward her.

Tara’s breath quickens. She tries to move, but her legs won’t respond. Her feet are rooted to the ground, the floor beneath her growing colder, wetter. She looks down and sees the carpet turning into dark, sticky mud, sucking her in. She struggles, her hands clawing at the air, but the more she fights, the deeper she sinks.

“You’ll never be free,” her voice echoes again, closer this time, hot breath grazing the back of Tara’s neck. She whirls around, and now she’s there—her face too close, her eyes dark pits that swallow the light. She smiles, the kind of smile Tara remembers, the one that came before the worst nights.

Her voice catches in her throat as she tries to scream. Nothing comes out. She reaches for something, anything, and her hand closes around a broken shard of glass lying on the floor. She raises it, her arm trembling, but before she can strike, Amber’s hand clamps around her wrist like a vice.

“You can’t fight me,” she hisses, her grip tightening until pain shoots through her arm.

Then, suddenly, the walls give way. The room is gone, replaced by endless black. She’s falling, weightless, spinning through the void, her laughter echoing all around her. Her eyes snap open, and she bolts upright in bed, gasping for air. Her chest heaves as she clutches the blanket to her chest, her skin damp with sweat. The soft glow of the bedside lamp reassures her that she was at your house—her safe place. But her heart doesn’t slow. Her voice still lingers in her ears, a ghost she can’t quite silence.

She decided to take refuge in the kitchen, grabbing a cup before filling it with running water from the tap. She gulped down her drink within seconds, seeking to refill it to repeat her steps before she heard a noise coming from the stairs.

Tara would be lying if she said her skin didn’t crawl out of the body. That was until she realized that she was safe; you were there, and she was currently staying over your house for 6 weeks since the incident at her home. She heard the soft pat of footsteps getting closer, grounding her in the moment. Her eyes burned slightly as you flicked on the kitchen light, illuminating the room with bright lights that contrasted the faint moonlight filtering through the blinds. She hadn’t even realized she had been standing there in the dark the whole time, her arms crossed tightly over her chest like a shield. Her fingers clutched the sleeves of her oversized sweatshirt—the one you lent her that had quickly become her armor

“Hey, you okay?” you asked softly, your voice cutting through the haze like a lifeline.

Tara’s heart skipped at the sight of you, a mix of relief and something else she couldn’t quite name. Your messy hair stuck out at odd angles, and the sweatshirt you’d thrown on hung loosely, bunched up just enough to reveal a sliver of your toned abdomen. She forced herself to look away, her cheeks warming as she realized she might’ve been staring too long.

You yawned, your hand covering your mouth as you shuffled closer, the soft scuff of your socks on the floor breaking the silence. It was obvious you’d just woken up, probably stirred by the noise she’d made earlier when she’d stumbled on the stairs in the dark.

“Did I wake you?” she asked, her voice tinged with guilt. You shook your head, brushing off her concern with a small wave. “Don’t worry about it,” you said, your tone gentle but still heavy with sleep. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Tara blinked, shaking her head as if to clear the fog. “Yeah,” she lied, her voice quieter than she intended. “I was just... thirsty.” She gestured vaguely toward the counter, though the glass of water she’d poured sat untouched beside her.

You stepped closer, your movements careful, deliberate—like you didn’t want to startle her. “Do you want to talk about it?” you offered, your hand hovering near hers without touching.

She hesitated, her gaze fixed on the floor. The truth felt heavy, like a stone in her chest. But the quiet warmth in your voice coaxed something loose. “I had another one,” she admitted, her voice breaking on the last word. “The same nightmare. It’s like I can’t get away, even here.”

Your brow furrowed, and you nodded, understanding without pushing. “You’re not there anymore,” you said gently. “And you’re not alone.”

The words hit her harder than she expected, cracking something inside her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. When she opened them again, your hand was still there, hovering, offering quiet reassurance. For the first time in what felt like forever, she reached out and took it.

-

Tara had recently started seeing you in a different light, her gaze lingering just a moment longer, her heart betraying her with a subtle flutter whenever you laughed or offered her on of your quiet, reassuring smiles. It wasn’t just gratitude anymore—it was something warmer, softer, the kind of feeling that crept up on her slowly, like the first rays of dawn chasing away the night.

But with that warmth came a pang of guilt that tightened in her chest every time she let herself linger on the thought of you. It felt wrong—dangerous, even—to have these feelings so soon after everything she’d been through. She’d barely begun to patch herself together, the cracks of her past relationship still too fresh, too jagged. It didn’t matter that she knew you for as long as she can remember; you deserved someone whole, someone who didn’t flinch at shadows or wake up gasping for air in the middle of the night. Not someone who carried the weight of emotional baggage too heavy to unload, let alone share. Tara didn’t want to overwhelm you, didn’t want to burden you with the mess she felt she still was.

And yet, she couldn’t ignore the way her heart betrayed her, beating a little faster when you walked into the room, or how her defenses softened in the safety of your presence. She told herself it wasn’t fair—not to you, not to her. You had already done so much, offering her a refuge when she had nowhere else to turn. Falling for you felt selfish, and Tara wasn’t sure she deserved to be selfish right now. Not after everything.

Still, when your hand brushed hers accidentally, when your voice softened just for her, when your laughter chased away the heaviness in her chest—or when you stepped in at school, silencing harsh comments with a sharp retort or a glare that could freeze anyone in their tracks—Tara felt something stir inside her. There was a striking contrast between the protective fierceness you showed the world and the quiet vulnerability you reserved only for her. It was in the way your walls came down when it was just the two of you, the tenderness in your eyes speaking volumes you didn’t say out loud.

That contrast captivated her, making her feel like she was seeing parts of you no one else ever could. It felt special, even if she told herself it shouldn’t. No matter how much she tried to bury it, the flicker of hope continued to grow, warm and persistent, defying her attempts to smother it.

Would you like this expanded further or shifted in tone?

On the other hand, you were doing everything in your power to suppress your own feelings, burying them beneath layers of logic and self-control. You told yourself it wasn’t the right time, that Tara needed support, not another complication in her life. You reminded yourself that she was still healing, still piecing herself back together after everything she had been through.

And yet, every time she smiled at you, her walls cracking just enough to let a bit of light through, your resolve wavered. Every small moment—her laughter when you managed to make her forget the weight she carried, the way her eyes softened when she looked at you, or how she unconsciously sought your presence whenever the world felt too heavy—made it harder to pretend you didn’t feel anything.

You tried to keep your distance emotionally, to draw the line between being her safe place and letting your own heart get involved. But deep down, you knew the truth: Tara wasn’t just someone you wanted to protect—she was someone who made you feel seen, someone who awakened parts of yourself you hadn’t realized were dormant. And no matter how much you tried to push those feelings away, they lingered, stubborn and unyielding.

-

That same afternoon, Tara received a phone call from the police regarding the ongoing investigation into Amber’s abuse. Relief flooded her chest as she listened to the officer explain the progress being made—finally, Amber’s actions were being brought to light. But her relief was mixed with a jolt of surprise when she learned that Serena, along with several other victims, had found the courage to come forward and share their experiences too.

Tara’s hand tightened around the phone as a wave of emotions swept over her. She was proud of Serena—proud of all of them—for speaking up, but the news also dredged up memories she’d been trying to suppress. The details of her own ordeal flickered through her mind, vivid and unrelenting.

Still, there was something empowering in knowing she wasn’t alone, that others were finally breaking their silence. Maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of the end for Amber’s reign of cruelty. Tara hung up the phone and sat quietly for a moment, staring at the sunlight streaming through the window. A weight she hadn’t realized she was carrying lifted slightly, replaced by a fragile but growing sense of hope.

A month later, that hope turned into reality. Tara sat in the living room, the news playing softly in the background. Her heart raced as Amber’s face flashed across the screen, the headline scrolling beneath it in bold letters: Local Woman Sentenced for Multiple Counts of Abuse.

Amber had been convicted in court, her manipulative web unraveling under the weight of evidence and testimonies from Tara, Serena, and other victims. The judge’s sentence was clear: five years in prison, along with mandatory therapy for her abusive behavior.

Tara leaned back against the couch, letting out a long breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Justice had been served, and Amber’s smug, untouchable demeanor had crumbled in the courtroom. For the first time in what felt like forever, Tara felt a sense of closure—not complete, but enough to begin moving forward.

But the consequences didn’t end there. Online forums and social media exploded with the news of Amber’s trial. Her name trended for weeks as people dissected her actions, some sharing their own stories of survival and solidarity. Amber’s once pristine facade was shattered, her reputation irrevocably ruined.

Tara stayed off social media as much as she could, but every now and then, she’d catch a glimpse of the posts and comments. Part of her still felt conflicted—justice was never as clean and satisfying as people made it seem—but the other part of her, the one that had endured so much, knew Amber deserved every consequence she faced.

Sitting in the quiet comfort of your home, Tara turned to you, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “It’s finally over,” she said softly, her voice tinged with a mix of relief and exhaustion. You nodded, meeting her gaze with a warmth that steadied her. “It’s the start of something new,” you replied, your words gentle but firm.

And for the first time in a long time, Tara believed that might actually be true.

-

After finding justice against her abuser and knowing she wouldn’t be seeing Amber anytime soon, Tara finally felt a sense of safety she hadn’t known in months. The weight that had clung to her since the abuse began was lighter now, replaced by a cautious but growing confidence.

With your unwavering support over the past three months, she found the courage to take the next step: moving back into her own home. It wasn’t an easy decision—her house still carried echoes of the past, shadows of memories she’d rather forget—but it was time to reclaim her space and her life.

Still, she couldn’t help but miss the little intimate moments you shared—the lingering stares that spoke volumes, the quiet whispers exchanged in the stillness of the night. Both of you seemed to hover on the edge of something more, a silent understanding that neither dared to voice. She knew you both wanted to take that next step, but the unspoken weight of your circumstances kept you from crossing the line.

As the days passed in her reclaimed home, Tara found herself replaying those quiet moments with you—the lingering stares, the warmth of your whispered reassurances, the way your presence had become her anchor during the hardest time of her life. She realized how much those moments had meant to her, how much you had come to mean to her.

But with that realization came another: she couldn’t keep living in limbo. The fear of her past and the weight of uncertainty about the future had kept her frozen for too long. If she wanted to truly start over, she needed to let go of the chains that held her back—her doubts, her fears, and most of all, the idea that she didn’t deserve happiness.

One evening, as the sun dipped low on the horizon and painted her living room in hues of orange and gold, Tara made a decision. She wasn’t going to let her past define her any longer. She wasn’t going to let the possibility of rejection stop her from moving forward.

The next day, she called you. Her hands trembled as she held the phone to her ear, but the sound of your voice steadied her. “Hey,” she began, her voice softer than usual. “Can we meet? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Of course. When and where?”

When you arrived at her house later that evening, you found Tara waiting on the porch, the soft glow of string lights framing her silhouette. She looked nervous but determined, her fingers fidgeting slightly with the edge of her sweater.

“Tara?” you asked, concern flickering in your eyes. “Everything okay?”

She took a deep breath, summoning the courage she’d been building all day. “I’ve been thinking,” she began, her voice wavering slightly before she steadied it. “About us. About how much you’ve done for me and how much you mean to me.”

Your brows furrowed slightly, but you stayed silent, letting her continue.

“I know I’ve been through a lot, and I know I’m still figuring things out,” she said, meeting your gaze. “But I also know that I don’t want to keep pretending like I don’t feel something for you. I don’t know where this could go, or if it’s even the right time, but… I want to try. If you’re willing.”

For a moment, silence hung between you, but the look in your eyes spoke louder than any words. Then, a small, reassuring smile curved your lips as you reached out, your hand gently brushing hers. “Tara,” you said softly, “I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

Relief flooded her chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself smile—a real, unguarded smile. This wasn’t just the start of something new; it was the start of a life she was choosing for herself, free from the shadows of her past.

-

From that moment on, things between you and Tara unfolded naturally, like a river flowing back to its course. Neither of you rushed into anything; instead, you let the connection grow in its own time, giving Tara the space she needed while steadily building on the trust you already shared.

Your first outing wasn’t anything grand—just a quiet evening walk at a nearby park, where the golden hour bathed everything in a warm glow. You talked about anything and everything, from random childhood stories to dreams for the future, and Tara found herself laughing more than she had in months. It felt effortless, like being with you was the safest and most natural thing in the world.

Each hangout felt like a small but significant step forward. Movie nights turned into impromptu dinners; casual walks turned into long conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning. You were patient with her, never pushing for more than she was ready to give, and that patience only made Tara’s feelings for you deepen.

Before either of you realized it, those moments of closeness had transformed into something neither of you could ignore. One evening, while sitting together on her couch after yet another movie marathon, you turned to her, your expression more serious than usual.

“I don’t want to assume anything,” you said softly, your voice steady but unsure. “But these past few months have been… everything to me. I just need to know—what are we?”

Tara felt her heart skip, her stomach fluttering nervously. But instead of fear, she felt a quiet certainty settle over her. “I think,” she began, a small smile forming on her lips, “that we’re something worth holding on to.”

You smiled, relief and happiness evident on your face, and without thinking, you reached for her hand. This time, there was no hesitation—only warmth and a mutual understanding that this was the start of something real.

From that night on, you were no longer just two people finding solace in each other. You were something more, a partnership built on trust, shared laughter, and the unspoken promise that no matter what came next, you’d face it together.

-

Tara could feel herself melt like a puddle with how well you treated her—both before and after you officially started dating. It wasn’t just the big gestures, like showing up at her door with her favorite takeout on a tough day, or surprising her with a late-night drive to watch the stars. It was the little things that truly got to her: the way you always opened the door for her without making a big deal of it, how you remembered the exact way she liked her coffee, or how you would kiss her temple and whisper sweet nothings every time you both cuddle; even if you thought that she was sleeping, and the way your eyes softened whenever she spoke.

Before you were together, those moments had been her lifeline, a reminder that someone cared, even when she doubted she deserved it. Now, as your partner, those gestures took on a whole new meaning. It wasn’t just care—it was love, expressed in the quiet, unassuming ways that made her heart flutter every single time.

She couldn’t help but wonder what she’d done to deserve someone like you. But whenever she voiced that thought, you’d simply shake your head and pull her close, your words as steady as your presence: “You deserve everything good, Tara. Don’t forget that.”

And in those moments, she believed you.

Even though things were going so well between you two, there were moments when Tara couldn’t help but doubt herself. She would catch herself wondering, Why would you date someone like me? The thought lingered in her mind more often than she cared to admit. She wasn’t used to this—wasn’t used to being treated with such kindness, with respect and patience, without the underlying tension of manipulation.

There were nights when the quiet would settle in, and she’d look at you, unsure of what to do with the warmth in her chest. What if I mess this up? What if I’m not enough? It was a thought that tugged at her constantly, a remnant of the insecurities Amber had instilled in her. She had spent so long believing she wasn’t worthy of love, and now, with you, she was learning to undo that belief, but it didn’t come easily.

And sometimes, that uncertainty bubbled to the surface. Tara would snap at you over the smallest things—little miscommunications or harmless comments that she would blow out of proportion. Her heart would race, her pulse quickening with the old familiar fear that she was doing something wrong, that she might push you away. She’d feel guilty for arguing, but the sting of past hurts would seep through, making it hard to just… relax.

“I’m sorry,” she’d whisper one evening after a heated argument, her eyes downcast, voice barely audible. “I don’t mean to be like this… I just… I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be in a healthy relationship. I’m not used to it.”

You would always sigh softly, your touch gentle as you cupped her face in your hands, lifting her chin to meet your gaze. “Tara, you don’t have to apologize for being human. We all have our moments. But don’t ever think that you’re not enough. You are more than enough, just the way you are.”

It wasn’t always easy for Tara to believe you, but in those moments, your words grounded her. Slowly, she began to understand that healthy relationships were built on patience, understanding, and forgiveness—not on fear or constant conflict. Your love for her wasn’t conditional, and that was something she was still learning to accept.

“My issue isn't you, it's the problem we're having. My love for you hasn't diminished in the slightest." is what you would say every time Tara doubted herself.

But with every apology, every tear shed, and every moment where she saw the love in your eyes, Tara began to shed the weight of her past. You never gave up on her, and bit by bit, she started to believe that she could let go of the fear, the doubts, and the walls she had built around her heart.

Eventually, the arguments became fewer, the self-doubt quieter. And when Tara realized that she could trust the stability and love you offered without second-guessing herself, she allowed herself to truly lean into the warmth of this healthy relationship you had together.

-

“I had no idea you did that during your finals, that’s wild!” Tara laughed, cuddling by your side, her leg hooked onto your torso while her arms were wrapped around you, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she listened to your story about the soccer finals against Blackmore.

“Yeah, and Mindy’s been boasting non-stop about scoring the winning goal. She’d been riding that high for at least month,” you chuckled, shaking your head, still a little in awe of her determination. “But, honestly, I’m so proud of her for leading the team and getting that goal. She earned it.”

Tara grinned, shaking her head in disbelief. “That’s Mindy for you. She knows how to make sure everyone knows when she’s the hero.”

“You know… I’m glad you did that to Amber… But you shouldn’t have, you ruined your own career,” Tara added, leaning in closer. Her voice dropped to a whisper, the words softening as they barely escaped her lips.

You shrugged nonchalantly, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Honestly, I don’t care about the career right now. What happened, happened, and I’ll deal with the consequences. But as long as you’re here, that’s all that matters to me.”

Tara blinked, surprised by your response. “You’re serious?”

You met her gaze, your voice steady but soft. “Yeah. In the end, careers come and go, but I’ve got your back, no matter what. You’re more important to me than any of this.”

Tara smiled, her eyes softening as she leaned in for a quick hug. “You’re insane, but I’m glad to have you by my side.”

You placed a hand gently on Tara’s waist, your voice unwavering. “I love you, Tara. There isn’t anything that I wouldn’t do for you.”

Tara’s eyes softened as she looked at you, the weight of your words sinking in. Without another word, she pulled you into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around you as if she never wanted to let go. You held her just as tightly, a quiet moment passing between you both.

Then, she pulled back slightly, her gaze meeting yours, before she pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead then a peck on your lips. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Tara felt a quiet certainty deep within her—that no matter how hard the world threw at her, no matter how much she had to endure, she could face it all as long as you were there beside her. With you by her side, there was nothing she couldn’t overcome.

————————

a/n: hehehe thanks for tuning in for this fic! lmk your thoughts & feelings🤔

[3igbootyl0ver]

when we getting more stories i’m starving

TAKE YOUR TIME THOUGH 🤑🔥

my bad guys, life has been kicking my ass recently 😓. i literally had no time to write since school and work has been occupying most of my time at the moment. i’ll try my best to post the next part of ‘who hurt you’ by the new years as a treat 🙏🏽

[3igbootyl0ver]

I SAY HAWK YOU SAY TUAH

HAWK🗣️🔥💯‼️

TUAHH ‼️

[3igbootyl0ver]

i’m gonna hawk tuah on ur stories

you should be featured in the talk tuah podcast (notice how the gif has HAWK in it😏)

[3igbootyl0ver]

who hurt you? [iv]

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: Tara finally finds the courage to open up and seek help.

word count: 4610

warnings: mentions of abuse, violence, angst

a/n: guys I lied this is NOT the last part. I realized how much I have to write lol but the angst is over, the next part should be just fluff and tara's recovery. this is the longest I wrote so far lol so I hope its not too draggy

part [i] | part [ii] | part [iii] | part [v]

Tara felt her phone buzz multiple times in a minute. It took her a moment to gain the courage and look at her notifications. 5 missed calls and missed texts from Amber herself. She felt a shiver run down her spine, not sure if it was from the chilly breeze or her fear of Amber coming to get her. Her fingers hovered over the screen, debating whether to respond or power off the phone and ignore the reality of her situation.

Amber

Tara, where are you?

I told you to meet me behind the bleachers.

You just can’t listen, can you??? 

(Missed call from Amber)

Answer your damn phone.

Seriously? Was this about that day? I barely touched you, it was a joke. Don’t be so dramatic

You know I only do these things because you push me. If you didn’t act like this, I wouldn’t have to.

Just get here.Now. 

Tara felt her chest tighten after reading the texts, afraid of what could happen to her, her consequences. “You deserved it anyways,” was what Amber would say to her after she got hurt. At first, Tara had fought against those words, clinging to the belief that she was worth more, that she wasn’t the problem. But over time, the constant barrage of blame and cutting remarks chipped away at her resolve. Amber’s voice had become a whisper in her mind, louder than her own, until one day Tara caught herself nodding in agreement. Maybe she did deserve it. Maybe everything that happened was her fault.

Her breathing grew shallow as the weight of the messages and memories bore down on her. Her phone slipped from her trembling hand, landing on the floor with a soft thud, but she barely noticed. Her chest heaved as panic clawed its way through her, each breath feeling harder than the last. Her vision blurred, and the world around her faded into a distant hum, drowned out by the cruel echoes of Amber’s voice in her head. She clutched her knees, trying to ground herself, but her thoughts spiraled uncontrollably. What if she’s right? What if I deserve everything coming my way? The questions suffocated her, and she felt like she was drowning in her own mind, unable to surface.

Her breath hitched when a familiar face entered her blurry field of vision, concern etched deeply in your furrowed brows. You raised a hand slowly, your movements deliberate and gentle, pausing as if asking for silent permission. When she gave a weak, trembling nod, you knelt down and rested your hand over hers, the warmth grounding her in the chaos of her spiraling thoughts. Your voice followed, soft and steady, cutting through the haze as you spoke words of comfort and reassurance.

“Tara, hey. Look at me. I’m here, okay? You’re safe now. Take a deep breath with me. Let’s do it together—breathe in…and out. Nice and slow. Just like that.” Tara listened to your instructions, slowly gaining back her bearings before tearing up again, overwhelmed by her feelings.

“I’m sorry—I’m such a burden—“ “Hey, I want none of that right now, okay? You’re not alone in this. Whatever’s happening, we’ll handle it together. You’re stronger than this—always have been. It will pass, I promise.” 

It took Tara a while to piece together what happened and where she was. She just had a panic attack. You were there. The softness of your bed beneath her and the faint scent of your room finally grounded her. She blinked a few times, her gaze settling on the familiar surroundings, and the realization hit—she was safe.

You sat beside her, your voice calm as you spoke. “I texted Chad and Mindy to come over,” you said gently. “I thought having some company might help. They’re on their way now.”

Tara nodded slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction. The thought of familiar faces brought a small flicker of relief amidst the storm swirling inside her.

-

As soon as the doorbell rang, you hurried to open it. Mindy wasted no time, wrapping you in a tight hug before you could say a word. Her embrace was warm and reassuring, a silent way of saying, We’re here for you. The moment she stepped back, Chad pulled you into his own firm hug, his hand patting your back in solidarity. Their presence immediately lightened the air, filling the space with a sense of comfort and support.

“We won, by the way. There was a party after, but it wouldn’t be the same without you.” Mindy commented, slightly smug about how she scored the winning goal. You’ve never doubted her once; you knew she could do it. 

If Tara was being honest, she was afraid to meet the twins—afraid that she would be posed as the bad friend that avoided them, that she was weak and fragile. The thought of their disappointment, the way they might look at her with concern or pity, sent a wave of anxiety through her. It felt easier to stay away, to hide, than to face the questions and the judgments she imagined they’d have.

Tara took a deep breath, steeling herself as Mindy and Chad walked into the room. The moment Mindy stepped forward, she pulled Tara into a tight, almost desperate hug. Tara froze for a second, then allowed herself to melt into the embrace, feeling the warmth and safety that came with it. Mindy’s voice was soft but firm when she pulled away.

“You don’t have to apologize, Tara. We’re here,” she said, her tone full of concern.

Chad, a few steps behind, offered a reassuring smile before pulling her into his own hug, his hand gently patting her back. “You’re not alone in this,” he murmured, his voice calm and steady. Tara nodded, the overwhelming weight of her anxiety not quite lifting, but at least softened by the comfort of their presence.

As they settled around her, Tara felt an unexpected wave of guilt. If she were being honest, she was afraid of meeting them again—afraid that they would see her as the bad friend who had avoided them, that they would view her as weak and fragile. The thought of disappointing them, of facing their concern or pity, made her stomach turn. It felt easier to stay hidden, to avoid the inevitable questions they would ask about where she had been, why she’d pulled away. But now, as she sat between them, she realized that the fear of their judgment was nothing compared to the warmth of their unwavering support.

Tara took a deep breath, her heart pounding as she finally began to speak, her voice trembling with the weight of the words she’d kept locked inside for so long. She glanced at Mindy and Chad, their faces filled with concern and unwavering support, and it made her feel a little less alone. She told everyone in the room how she started dating Amber; and how things went downhill. By the time Tara ended, she was sobbing uncontrollably, your arms wrapped around her to calm her down. She looked at Mindy and Chad, “I’m so sorry. I should’ve come to you sooner.” Tara said tears still streaming down her face, but her voice stronger than before.

Mindy’s expression softened as Tara spoke, her eyes filled with both sadness and empathy. “Tara, you don’t deserve any of that,” Mindy said, her voice gentle but firm.

“None of it was your fault. Amber had no right to treat you that way, no matter what she said,” Mindy said, her words steady and filled with conviction. “You’re not broken, you’re strong. You’re still here, and you’re fighting. That’s what matters.” Mindy reached for her hand, squeezing it gently.

Chad nodded in agreement, his expression serious. “Mindy’s right. You don’t have to face it alone, you have us.” He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “Tara, you should think about reporting this. What happened to you wasn’t just a mistake—it was abuse. And abuse needs to be taken seriously.”

“I know it’s scary, and I know you’re probably thinking about what Amber might do or say, but we’re here for you, every step of the way. Reporting this to the police isn’t just about getting her in trouble—it’s about protecting yourself and making sure this doesn’t happen to anyone else. You’re not alone in this. We’ll be with you, no matter what you decide.” You added, gently rubbing your hand along her arms, making her relaxed.

Tara sat in silence for a moment, her mind racing with the idea of taking that step. She had never imagined herself going to the police, but now, with Mindy, Chad, and you by her side, it didn’t feel quite as impossible. It was terrifying, but maybe it was the first step toward finally finding peace.

-

A few days later, Tara found herself sitting in a quiet room at the local police station, her heart pounding in her chest as she looked down at the paper in front of her. She had made the decision—she was reporting the abuse. The officer sitting across from her was kind, patient, but Tara could still feel the weight of every word she spoke. She told them everything. About Amber’s manipulation, the slaps, the pushing, the hurtful words. She didn’t leave anything out, though every sentence felt like it ripped open a wound she’d tried to bury for so long. She even included photos of her bruises she would take pictures of throughout the relationship. The officer appreciated it, it adds more evidence even when there’s a big yellowish blotch on her face that didn’t need any more explaining.

When the officer assured her that her report would be taken seriously, Tara couldn’t help but feel a tiny flicker of relief, even though fear still lingered in her chest. She had done the right thing. She hoped. But as Tara walked out of the station, the reality of her decision began to settle in. She had taken a step that could never be undone, and she knew Amber would eventually find out.

And it didn’t take long.

It was the following afternoon when Tara received a call from an unknown number. Her stomach dropped, the familiar anxiety creeping back into her veins as she hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Hello?” Tara’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Tara,” came Amber’s voice, cold and filled with venom. “I know what you did.”

Tara’s heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively took a step back, as if she could escape the phone call that had already settled deep into her chest.

“You went to the police, didn’t you? You really think you can get away from me that easily? Blocking my number didn’t do anything, did it?” Amber’s tone was almost mocking, but beneath it was a layer of pure rage. “You’re nothing without me, Tara. Do you really think they’ll believe you? Do you really think I would hurt you? You’re a liar.”

Tara’s grip on the phone tightened, her voice shaking with fear but laced with a newfound resolve. “I’m not lying, Amber. I’m done. You don’t control me anymore.” Amber’s laughter came through the phone, sharp and cruel. “We’ll see about that.” And then the line went dead.

Tara stood there, the cold air biting at her skin, her heart racing in her chest; feeling the fear creep back in, until you called her downstairs for dinner. Ever since you found her during the finals, you managed to convince Tara to stay over at yours for awhile, considering she would’ve been alone at home and you wouldn’t want anything to happen to her.

You went up to the guest bedroom Tara was staying in to see her staring at her phone, slightly taken aback. You could sense her breathing getting shallower and sharper, realizing that she was having an asthma attack and quickly took her inhaler that was placed on the drawers.

She gasped again, but her breath wouldn’t come. Panic began to set in, her heart rate quickening, and she coughed uncontrollably, the sound rough and wet in her chest. The tightness in her throat made it harder to exhale, a wheeze escaping as she forced the air out. It felt as though the very act of breathing had turned into a struggle, and the more she tried, the harder it became. Your hand was already passing the inhaler to her trembling fingers. Tara’s breath hitched, struggling to move as her hands shook, but you placed your hand over hers, steadying it.

"Here, just... take a slow breath in. You can do it," you encouraged, your voice steady as you helped her press the inhaler to her lips. Tara obeyed, inhaling shakily, and within moments, she felt the familiar cooling sensation spread through her chest. The tightness loosened just a little, and she gasped for air, the wheezing beginning to subside.

“Good. Just like that,” you whispered, your hand resting on her shoulder, grounding her. Slowly, Tara's breathing steadied, each inhale coming a little easier than the last, the panic beginning to melt away as the medicine took effect. You stayed by her side, never letting go, just silently offering the comfort she desperately needed.

-

You were starting to get used to the sight of Tara struggling with both panic and asthma attacks throughout her stay at your home. It was a constant ebb and flow, moments where she seemed like she was almost back to herself, only for the anxiety or her breathing to hit her again without warning. At first, it was overwhelming—watching her gasping for air, feeling helpless as she trembled and shook—but over time, you learned how to respond.

You kept her inhaler close, always within reach. You knew the signs now, the way her chest would tighten, the shallow breaths, the subtle shift in her expression that meant her panic was escalating. You knew how to talk her down, how to ground her when the anxiety became too much, and how to steady her when she couldn’t catch her breath. The routine of it had become familiar: gently helping her breathe in through the inhaler, guiding her hands to her chest to ground her, reassuring her with calm words that she wasn’t alone.

But each time it happened, it still broke your heart. You could see the fear in her eyes, the fear of not knowing if she would get through it, the lingering dread that she wasn’t safe. You never left her side during those moments. No matter how many times it happened, you were there—watching, waiting, helping her through it until she found her breath again.

And while it was exhausting, both for her and for you, there was a certain quiet comfort in knowing you could help. Tara was stronger than she gave herself credit for, and you were proud of her every time she pushed through, even when it seemed like too much. With each attack, she seemed to hold onto that strength a little longer, even when she didn't see it herself.

-

After a few weeks of rest and recovery, Tara made the decision to go back to school. It wasn’t easy—every step toward the building felt like it weighed a ton, and her heart would race at the thought of seeing people again, of facing the memories that lurked in every hallway. But she couldn’t hide forever, and despite the anxiety swirling in her chest, Tara knew it was time to take that first step. The news spread like wildfire rippling both in Woodsboro and Blackmore. Everyone seemed to have their own version of the story, but the narrative was clear: Tara and Amber’s relationship was no longer just a private matter—it had become public, and with it, a storm of judgment.

Amber wasted no time in twisting the truth, claiming that Tara had fabricated everything. She told anyone who would listen that Tara was just seeking attention, painting herself as the victim of a lie. Amber played the part of the heartbroken, misunderstood girlfriend, while Tara was cast as the unreliable, dramatic ex who couldn’t handle their breakup. The accusations were swift, harsh, and relentless.

But amidst the gossip, there were small moments of clarity. She still had people who believed her—people like Mindy and Chad, who stood by her side without question. And you. You were her anchor. Every time the rumors swirled, you were there, offering her a steady presence, a reminder that her truth mattered, no matter what anyone else said. The world around her might have been filled with noise, but with your support, Tara began to find her voice again. Even if it took time, even if it was hard, she wasn’t going to let Amber’s lies define her.

The night before, she barely slept, tossing and turning in her bed, replaying the worst-case scenarios in her mind. What if Amber showed up? What if people asked questions she wasn’t ready to answer? But when morning came, you were there to reassure her once more, helping her gather her things and offering quiet encouragement.

“Just take it one step at a time,” you told her, giving her a gentle smile. “You don’t have to face everything all at once. We’ll get through it together.”

As Tara walked through the school gates, she felt a mix of nervousness and determination. She had her inhaler in her pocket, just in case, and a deep breath to calm the jittery nerves that clung to her. There was no going back now, but with each step forward, she could feel the weight on her shoulders lifting just a little bit. She wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

“Hey, Tara!” Serena, a classmate called out, her voice piercing through the crowded hallway. At the sound of her voice, you immediately tensed, a protective instinct kicking in. You weren’t sure if Serena was going to confront Tara, maybe join in the whispers and rumors that had been circulating. But as you glanced at Tara, you could see the hesitation in her expression. She was unsure what to expect from Serena now.

Without thinking, you gently pulled Tara closer, positioning yourself as a shield, ready for whatever was about to happen. Tara stiffened at first, but then she relaxed into you, seeking comfort in your presence. She wasn’t ready to face any more hostility or doubt—not from anyone.

Serena approached, her steps slow but determined. The usual confidence she carried was gone. Her face was softer, almost apologetic, and there was a sadness in her eyes that Tara hadn’t expected. She stopped just in front of you both, looking down at the ground before lifting her eyes to meet Tara’s.

“Tara,” she said quietly, avoiding your eyes. “I owe you an apology. I should’ve believed you from the start. Amber—she did the same thing to me.” Tara blinked, surprised. “You were with Amber too?” Serena nodded, her voice trembling.

You could feel Tara’s grip on your arm tighten, the weight of the moment sinking in. It was clear that this wasn’t just an apology—this was Serena reaching out to Tara, extending a hand to show her that she wasn’t alone, that there was someone who understood the pain.

 “She manipulated me, made me feel crazy, like I was the problem. I didn’t see it until I left her. I saw how she treated you and… I didn’t speak up. I’m sorry for that.” Tara stared at her, processing her words. “I didn’t know… I thought it was just me.”

“I know. I should’ve been there for you,” Serena said. “But I believe you, Tara. Amber’s abuse wasn’t your fault.” Tara’s shoulders slumped, relief and confusion mixing in her eyes. “Thank you. I.. I’m glad you’re saying this.”

Serena gave a soft nod. “I’m here for you, anytime. You’re not alone.”

As Serena walked away, Tara exhaled deeply, her grip on you loosening. The weight wasn’t gone, but knowing Serena understood made the burden a little lighter.

-

It’s been a few weeks since Tara had the courage to start attending school again, and while the halls still felt heavy, there was a noticeable shift in her. The whispers had faded to a dull murmur, and the judgmental stares were fewer, replaced with something a bit more tolerable—curiosity, or maybe even a touch of guilt from those who had doubted her.

Tara had slowly begun to rebuild herself, day by day. With Mindy, Chad, and even Serena’s unexpected support, she had started to find the strength to face the world again. But every step forward came with its own challenge. Some days were harder than others, and the scars from Amber’s abuse weren’t so easily erased. Yet, Tara was determined to keep moving forward, and even though she wasn’t sure what the future held, she knew she wasn’t as alone as she once believed.

There were still moments of fear, of panic, but each time she faced them, it was a little easier to breathe. With you by her side, offering quiet support, she was starting to believe that maybe—just maybe—she could reclaim her life.

Tara knew she had to go back to her house to retrieve a few things. Her mind raced with memories of Amber, of the chaos and control, but there were still some items left behind that she needs—it would be a mixture of both closure and necessity. The thought of stepping foot inside her old home made her stomach turn, but she knew she couldn’t leave everything behind forever. Tara had spent too long running, too long living in fear. It was time to take those final steps—gathering her things, locking the door behind her, and finally letting go of the past that still haunted her.

She wasn’t sure if she could face it alone, but she didn’t want to burden anyone. Still, the idea of returning to the house she once called home left her feeling vulnerable and anxious. She looked over at you, a soft vulnerability in her eyes, unsure of how to ask for help without seeming weak. “I... I need to go back to my house, just to get a few things. I don't think I can do it by myself."

You immediately reassured her, “You don’t have to do this alone. I’ll go with you.” Tara let out a quiet breath of relief, her shoulders relaxing. “I didn’t want to ask, but I don’t think I can handle it by myself.”

“I’m here for you, always,” you said, offering a gentle smile. “We’ll go together, take whatever you need, and leave. You don’t have to face it alone.”

Tara gave a small nod, her nerves still present but now softened by your support. “Okay. Let’s go.” And with that, the two of you set out, ready to face the past together, step by step.

Several minutes later, you both arrived at Tara’s old house. The familiar sight of it made her pause, a knot tightening in her stomach. The house that once felt like home now felt like a prison—a place filled with too many memories she wasn’t ready to face. You could sense the vulnerability in Tara’s posture as she stepped into the house, the weight of the moment settling over her. You didn’t want to intrude on something so private, so important to her, but you also wanted to be there if she needed support.

“I’ll stay in the car,” you suggested softly, giving her space. “Take your time. I’m right here if you need me.”

Tara glanced back at you, her eyes filled with gratitude, though the fear was still there. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I don’t know if I can do this, but... I’ll try.”

You gave her a reassuring nod as she stepped inside, the door closing softly behind her. You remained in the car, your heart with her, knowing that no matter how long it took, you’d be here when she was ready to leave.

Just as she left the walkway, you saw a sketchy black car across the street. The engine was idle, and a chill ran down your spine. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. You quickly glanced at the house, knowing Tara was inside. Your protective instinct kicked in. Without thinking, you got out of the car and headed toward the house, your pace quickening.

Inside, Tara was gathering a few of her things when she heard the faint sound of footsteps behind her. She turned, her blood running cold when she saw Amber standing there, leaning against the doorway with that familiar, malicious smirk on her face.

“You didn’t really think you could get away, did you?” Amber’s voice was low and taunting. She stepped into the room, her eyes glinting with a dangerous edge. “I still have a key, remember?” She stepped forward, her fingers tracing the edge of the doorframe where she had forced Tara to give her the spare key long ago

Before she could react, you burst through the door, your body tense with fury. “Get away from her!” you shouted, stepping between them. Amber’s eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly sneered, taking a threatening step forward. But you didn’t give her the chance. In one swift motion, you grabbed her by the wrist, slamming her hard against the wall with a sickening thud. Amber gasped, her eyes wide with shock, but you weren’t done. Your fist shot out, connecting with her jaw in a brutal punch that made her head snap back, her body jerking from the force of it. You stomped on the leg that you injured a few weeks ago, making her groan in agony.

Tara gasped, her eyes wide, but the sight of Amber recoiling, clutching her cheek, was like a weight lifting off her chest. You didn’t wait for Amber to recover; you shoved her roughly back against the wall, your hand still gripping her wrist.

“Stay the hell away from her. I don’t care who you think you are,” you growled, your voice cold and deadly. Amber’s eyes flickered with fury, but she was too stunned to fight back properly. Tara stood frozen, watching, feeling a strange mix of fear and relief. Amber spat, her glare venomous. “This isn’t over,” she hissed, trying to regain her composure, but you tightened your grip and stepped closer, your gaze unflinching.

Amber’s breathing grew heavy, but she knew she was outmatched. With one last look of hatred, she wrenched herself away and stormed out of the house, limping while slamming the door behind her. As the house grew quiet again, Tara exhaled shakily, still trembling from the confrontation. You turned to her, your chest heaving, but you gave her a steady, comforting look. 

“She’s gone. Shit—I’m sorry, I knew I should’ve—“ Before you could complete your sentence, Tara rushed into your arms, wrapping her arms tightly around you. She buried her face into your chest, her body shaking, her breath uneven.

“No,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Don’t apologize. I... I needed that.” Her words were muffled against you, but you could feel the tension leaving her as she clung to you. “I was so scared... but now... I don’t feel so alone.”

You held her tighter, your hands gently rubbing her back as you spoke softly, “You’re not alone, Tara. I’ll always be here. Always.”

Tara nodded, her grip loosening slightly but her face still pressed against you. The world outside felt distant now, the past they’d just confronted fading into the background. What mattered now was the quiet, steady promise that she was safe—here, with you.

-----------

a/n: I'm kind of forcing myself to write longer fics, and I hope this isn't too draggy and boring for u guys. feedback is appreciated :)

[3igbootyl0ver]

Hello 👋,

I hope this message finds you well. My name is Aziz, and I’m reaching out with a heartfelt plea to help my family find safety and reunite with our mother. 😞

The ongoing war in Gaza has torn my family apart. My mother and newborn sister are stranded in Egypt, while I, along with the rest of my sex family members, am trapped in the midst of the genocide in Gaza. We have not only been separated but have also lost our home and are enduring unimaginable hardships. 💔

Your support can make a difference. Whether by reading our story, donating, or sharing our campaign with others, you can help us reunite, find safety, and start anew. 🙏🕊

Thank you, from the depths of my heart, for your kindness, compassion, and solidarity during this difficult time. ❤🍉

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always happy to support,

[3igbootyl0ver]

who hurt you? [iii]

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: It's the day of the finals. Y/N finds out and confronts Amber over Tara's abuse, prioritizing her safety over the game.

word count: 2538

warnings: mentions of abuse, swearing, violence, angst

a/n: I'm bacccck muahaha. im already writing up the next part (which is also the last) and plan to upload it in a few days

part [i] | part [ii] | part [iv] | part [v]

It’s the day of the finals, and going up against your biggest rival in generations has your heart racing in anticipation. It’s also been a few days since you last approached Tara at school, and that was the last time you saw her. You can’t help but feel worried and concerned for her; she’s been barely attending classes or skipping school altogether this week.

“Let’s do this, guys! Let’s kick some fuckin’ ass!” Mindy shouted, hyping up the locker room as she smacked her fists together with a grin. The energy in the room was electric, with everyone feeding off the adrenaline coursing through their veins as upbeat music blared through the speakers. The roar of the crowd outside the locker room was muffled but unmistakable, a distant reminder of the stakes of today’s game. You glanced around at your teammates, their expressions ranging from determined to anxious. For a moment, you tried to shake off the nagging worry about Tara, but it clung to you like a shadow.

“Yo, you good?” Taylor, your closest teammate aside from Mindy, nudged your shoulder. She had that easygoing grin that usually put you at ease, but today, even her reassurance felt hollow.

“Yeah, just focused,” you replied quickly, though the lie felt heavy on your tongue. Your mind wandered again to Tara—how pale she had looked the last time you saw her, the distant look in her eyes. Something was wrong, and the fact that you hadn’t seen her since only made your chest tighten.

“All right, listen up!” Coach Melissa’s booming voice cut through the locker room chatter, bringing everyone to attention. “This is it. Everything we’ve worked for. Leave it all on the field. No excuses. Play for each other, play for the pride of this team, and play like you’ve got nothing to lose!”

The room erupted in cheers, but you could barely muster the same energy. The game was important, sure, but your mind was elsewhere. Tara’s absence was eating at you. Was she okay? Was there something you could’ve done earlier?

Just as the team surged forward, filing out of the locker room toward the field, you noticed a small figure leaving the bathroom near the lockers. You knew exactly who it was.

“Tara? Tara! Wait—wait!” you called out, watching her walk away as quickly as she could after seeing you approach. You managed to catch up to her, watching as she covered her face.

“Y/N, please—no, you can’t be here. Please don’t look at me,” she pleaded, her voice shaky as she began tearing up.

“Hey, hey, look at me. You’re all I ever want to look at. It’s me, Tara.” Gently, you pushed her hands away from her face, revealing a dark, purple blotch spreading beneath her eye, its edges tinged with hues of blue and red, like ink bleeding into paper. The smooth porcelain skin around it was swollen and tender.

Your heart ached at the sight. Who would do this? Who would hurt her? The thought alone fueled your anger, a fire rising in your chest, willing you to throw common sense aside and make whoever did this pay.

“Y/N, really, I’m fine. Can we please let this go—"

“Tara, who did this to you? Who hurt you? It was Amber, wasn’t it?”

Her pleading face failed to convince you. Her lips trembled, her eyes darting to the side as if searching for an escape.

“Y/N, please,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but the desperation in it was unmistakable. “You don’t understand. It’s not what you think.”

Your chest tightened. “Not what I think? Tara, someone hurt you!” you said, your voice rising slightly, though you tried to keep it gentle. “You can’t just expect me to walk away from this. I care about you—I need to know.”

She bit her lip, her hands fidgeting at her sides as though holding back the weight of the world. “It was Amber, okay? Just... please don’t get involved. I’m handling it.”

“Handling it?” you echoed, disbelief lacing your words. “Tara, look at you! This is not okay. You don’t have to deal with this alone—and I swear I’ll—”

“Stop!” she snapped suddenly, her voice cracking under the pressure. Her hands clenched into fists, and tears began to spill down her cheeks. “Just stop, Y/N. I can’t... I can’t drag you into this. You don’t know what’s at stake.”

The raw pain in her voice made you freeze. For a moment, the words you wanted to say got caught in your throat. Instead, you reached out and gently cupped her face, your thumb brushing away a stray tear.

“Tara, I’m already in this. You’re my everything, and I’m not going to just walk away when you’re hurting like this.”

Her defenses crumbled, and she let out a shaky sob, leaning into your touch. “I’m scared, Y/N,” she admitted finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “If I tell you... if you get involved... she’ll come after you too.”

The weight of her confession hit you like a punch to the gut. Amber wasn’t just cruel—she was dangerous. But the fear in Tara’s eyes only solidified your resolve.

“Tara,” you said softly, firmly, “I don’t care what Amber thinks she can do. She’s not going to touch me, and she’s never going to hurt you again. I promise.”

For a moment, she stared at you, as if trying to decide whether she could believe your words. Then, slowly, she nodded, her fragile trust shining through her tear-streaked face.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll tell you.”

“Let’s move, Y/L/N! Time to make history!” Coach called, clapping her hands and disrupting the moment. You were forced to reunite with the team, leaving Tara alone—but not without promising to meet her afterward.

You lingered for a moment, watching Tara walk away. The image of her tear-streaked face and bruised skin burned into your mind. No part of you wanted to step onto that field—but you didn’t have a choice.

-

The roar of the crowd grew louder, and the cool evening air hit your face as you stepped outside. As the team huddled before kickoff, you stole a glance toward the stands. You scanned the crowd almost instinctively, hoping—no, needing—to see her. But Tara wasn’t there.

The whistle blew, signaling the start of the game. You shook your head, trying to focus. Not now. You couldn’t afford to let your team down. But as the game began, you couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight wasn’t just about the finals—it was about something much bigger.

Throughout the match, rage surged through your veins like wildfire whenever you catch a glimpse of Amber in the opposition. Your knuckles turned white as anger threatened to consume you. Every movement she made on the field felt like a taunt, a reminder of the bruise etched on Tara’s face. It wasn't just the sight of her—it was the smugness in her posture, the way she carried herself, as if she were untouchable.

Your jaw tightened with each passing second, the fire in your chest roaring louder. The game became a blur of red-tinted focus, your mind oscillating between the need to win and the burning desire for retribution. Every fiber of your being screamed to confront her, to demand answers, to make her feel even a fraction of the pain Tara must have endured.

You barely registered the roar of the crowd or the calls from your teammates. Every step Amber took felt like a trigger, each glance in her direction fanning the flames of your fury.

The ball came into play, bouncing toward Amber. She sprinted for it, and something inside you snapped. Your focus tunneled, everything else fading into the background except for her. With every ounce of strength, you charged forward, your speed fueled by fury. Amber barely saw it coming. 

Your body collided with hers with bone-crunching force, the sound of the impact reverberating through the field. She went down hard, her body twisting awkwardly as she hit the ground with a sickening thud. A sharp cry of pain escaped her lips, silencing the crowd for a moment before the referee's whistle blared, cutting through the air like a blade. You stood over her, your chest heaving as adrenaline coursed through you. Amber clutched at her ankle, her face contorted in agony as she writhed on the ground. 

The sight of her in pain should have brought you satisfaction, but instead, it left you feeling raw—unleashed and unrelenting, like a dam had burst and you couldn’t stop the flood. “Y/N!” a teammate shouted, grabbing your arm and trying to pull you back, but you didn’t move. Your eyes were locked on Amber as she looked up at you, her expression twisted with shock and fear.

“You think you can just get away with it?” you spat, your voice low and trembling with fury. “You think no one will stand up to you?” Amber groaned in pain, clutching her leg as the medics rushed onto the field. The referee approached, yelling something about a red card, but it didn’t matter. All you could think about was Tara—her pain, her tears, and how Amber deserved every second of this. You turned to walk away, your chest heaving, but her voice cut through the air like a knife.

As they dragged you away, Amber propped herself up on one elbow, wincing but managing a sharp smirk. Her voice was hoarse but dripping with malice. “You think you’re some kind of hero?” she sneered, her words slithering through the air like poison.

“Tara begged for me to stop, you know. Pathetic how easy she breaks.” Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, your breath catching in your throat. Amber’s smirk widened as she saw the fire reignite in your eyes. “Face it, Y/N. You’re too late. You couldn’t protect her then, and you sure as hell can’t protect her now.”

Before you could stop yourself, you were on her. Words no longer sufficed—your anger demanded action. Shouts erupted from every direction as teammates and officials rushed in, trying to pull you back. The chaos blurred around you, hands grabbing at your arms, voices yelling, but none of it mattered. All you saw was Amber’s smug, twisted grin and the dark shadow of what she’d done to Tara.

It wasn’t until someone physically hauled you back, dragging you away from the scene, that the red haze began to fade. Amber lay on the ground, her face pale but her smirk still lingering, her laughter echoing in your ears even as they pushed you toward the sidelines. 

The crowd at the bleachers was a mic of shock and thrill. Gasps rippled through the stands, mingling with scattered cheers from those who seemed more amused than appalled by the fight breaking out on the field.

“You’re out, Y/L/N!” the referee barked, his voice furious. But you didn’t care. Your only regret was stopping.

Moments afterward blurred together: Coach Melissa’s stern voice echoing in your ears, the sting of disappointment as you trudged off the field, and the heavy silence as you made your way to the changing room. None of it made sense. You despised Amber- she’d been your high school rival for years— but imagining her hurting someone, hurting Tara? That was unthinkable and something you couldn’t have comprehend.

The sharp snap of fingers jolted you back to reality. Your coach stood over you, frustration etched on her face, while your teammates exchanged concerned glances. Blinking, you realized you had been sitting in the locker room, lost in a haze, as the first half of the match passed you by.

“What the hell was that, Y/L/N?!” Coach’s voice cut through the air like a whip. “Do you realize what you just did? You might’ve jeopardized our entire chance of winning! The team needs their captain—now!”

Your chest tightened, but frustration burned brighter than guilt. “She hurt Tara,” you snapped. “I don’t care about some stupid championship anymore!” The locker room fell silent, your teammates exchanging uneasy glances—some filled with concern, others still bristling over your actions. You took a shaky breath, willing yourself to stay composed. “Coach, I’m sorry for what I did,” you said, your voice quieter now. “But I can’t lead this team right now. Mindy’s your best option to take us to a win.” You stood straighter, forcing yourself to meet Coach’s eyes, determined not to let your emotions spiral further.

Coach Melissa took a deep sigh, her gaze lingering on you for a moment before hesitantly nodding. “Alright,” she said quietly, then turned to lead the team back onto the field for the second half.

As the others filled out, Mindy paused by the door, her brow furrowed with worry. She hesitated, then glanced back at you. “Do what you have to do, Y/N,” she said softly, her voice steady despite concern in her eyes. “I’m always by your side.” She offered a small, reassuring smile before disappearing into the hallway.

-

You found Tara sitting on the bleachers behind the school, far from the noise of the game. She was curled into herself, her knees pulled to her chest as she stared at the ground. The sight of her made your heart ache all over again, but it also steeled your resolve.

“Tara,” you called softly, walking toward her. She looked up, startled, her tear-streaked face lighting up with a mixture of relief and confusion.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? The game—”

“It doesn’t matter,” you interrupted, sitting beside her. “You matter. Talk to me, Tara. Please. Tell me what’s going on.”

For a moment, she hesitated, her lip trembling as she tried to hold back more tears. Then, as if a dam broke, she began to speak. She told you everything—about Amber’s threats, the fear she lived with every day, and how she thought keeping you out of it would protect you.

By the time she finished, your fists were clenched, your anger boiling over. But you forced yourself to stay calm for her sake. “Tara,” you said, your voice low but determined, “she doesn’t control you. She doesn’t get to hurt you and walk away like it’s nothing. We’ll deal with this. Together.”

She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t know her, Y/N. She’s dangerous. She told me to wait for her here, please leave before it’s too late-“

“And I’m not afraid of her,” you replied firmly. “I won’t let her hurt you again. I don’t care what it takes. You’re not meeting her anymore.”

Tara looked at you, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and hope. “Do you mean that?”

“Always,” you said, reaching out to take her hand. “You’re not alone in this. Not anymore.”

Tara gave a shaky nod, though the fear never fully left her eyes. You knew this wasn’t going to be easy—not by a long shot. Amber wasn’t someone you could just confront and expect to back down.

 But for Tara, you would face whatever came next.

A loud shout from the field echoed in the distance, reminding you of the game. But right now, nothing else mattered. Your focus was entirely on Tara.

----------

a/n: I hope this is enough lol i'm never writing this much angst anymore its sucking the happiness out of me. any feedback is well appreciated and requests are open as well :p

taglist: @natasha25052

[3igbootyl0ver]

helping tara through an asthma attack?

nothing’s gonna hurt you baby

“as long as you’re with me, you’ll be just fine”

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: after tara’s date ghosts her at a party and tara forgets her inhaler, you help her through her asthma, and in the process reveal how much you really care for each other

warnings: angst at first but quickly turns to fluff, mentions of asthma, small medical crisis, confessions and kissing, for the most part, fluff

word count: 2.8k

A/N: a very adorable and small oneshot i got to write! thank you for the request, it was greatly appreciated and im sorry i only got to finish it now! i cut down a lot for time's sake but i did get it done, so sorry iff it's shorter, i left more irrelevant bits out

*also, i am english and know little to nothing about new york, but i did my best

===+++===

===+++===

She wasn’t doing a thing that you could see except sitting there on the stairs, leaning on the bannister, holding the universe together.

Parties were many things, but you had never considered them beautiful. Tara Carpenter was what made them beautiful. Grabbing you tightly by the hand and tugging you onto the dance floor despite your protests, brushing the hair from your clammy forehead when you had too much to drink, and, even now, frowning at the bottom of the staircase. That was beautiful. It was so beautiful that calling it a crush didn’t feel like enough.

She doesn’t see you until you clear your throat from the other end of the foyer, leaning on the doorframe. It’s almost empty, most people squeezing into the kitchen and living room on the other side of the house, and you can hear Jump Around muffled through the walls.

“Looking for me?” she asks, a grin forming. It’s infectious, but Tara’s an infectious person: anything she does, she makes you want to do it too.

You smile back. “Always,” you nod, shoving your hands into your pockets and crossing the room to set yourself down next to her. Neither of you say anything for a minute, watching the few people go by, Tara picking at her nail polish and fiddling with her cup.

"Is this (Y/n)-code for wanting to leave?” Tara says after a while, nudging you gently with her knee. You shrug. You’d do the right thing always when it came to Tara. No matter how much fun you had been having, her frown came first, and you’d be damned if you didn’t try to lift it. Staying at the party longer would only keep reminding her how she had been let down again.

“It is getting kind of late," you murmur. She scoffs, shifting away from the railing and resting her head on your shoulder, nuzzling herself into your neck.

"It's only 12.” You can feel the vibrations of her voice against your body, warm and human. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you leave while the party’s still young?”

“A kind one,” you snort. “I’ve got a bed calling my name.”

She hums, pretending to think on it for a second, and then nods. “Five more minutes.”

You say okay and sit back in silence, letting the background music wash over you both. The clinking of bottles and laughter from the other room is loud, but mostly, you can hear her breathing against you, slow.

Tara lifts her head from your shoulder, taking a sip of her drink. “I think he’s a no-show,” she mutters after another minute, staring down into her cup and biting her lip.

“Yeah,” you nod, giving her a sad smile and bumping her with your shoulder. “What an asshole.”

It lifts her a little bit for a momentary smile that flickers in your direction, but it falls away again. “He was a really nice asshole. Something about me ‘deserving more’ and seeing ‘the real’ me.”

You hum at the sincere line said before by all too many insincere people. Tara was always the real her, and it was part of what made her so… her. Even her attempts to hide her wounds only made them more visible. To suggest otherwise was to mean he hadn’t known her very well. “It was the guy from the karaoke bar, right?” you ask.

She nods, eyes looking a little misty. You remember him well— reeking of alcohol and jostling her shoulder harshly while they sang Copacabana off key and miraculously off beat. You hadn't liked him much then, though you never did when it came to who Tara had moved onto. You hated him now, for almost making her cry.

"I guess someone told him about the attacks," she mumbled. "He said he didn't 'want to be next.' Funny part is I don't either."

"He's just a knob," you say, shaking your head. Then, you remember a particularly special piece of information you had been holding onto for the few weeks she had been talking to him. You lean into her ear, smirking as you whisper. "Though from what I heard, he didn't have a particularly large one."

It finally manages to pull a giggle from her, and she smacks you on the leg with a brilliant smile, the one that always makes your heart beat a bit faster. "What a perverted thing to say," she chides, rolling her eyes, but she still so clearly finds it funny.

"Coming from you, that's super rich," you tease. "Your imagination's gonna get you a passport to hell one day."

She smacks you on the arm again. "Come on, we should get you home, you've clearly had too much."

"So all I've got to do to convince you it's time to leave is make dirty jokes?" you grin as she stands, turning to you with an outstretched hand. You take it, letting her pull you up from the staircase.

"Nope," she replies, popping the p. "I just think it's nice out tonight."

"Yeah right," you say, walking towards the mountain of coats, grabbing her pink puffer one from the pile and then your own heavy jacket. "It's cold as hell."

"To you, you big baby," Tara teases, ditching her cup on the nearby mantle. She still zips herself all the way up, shoving her hands into her pockets, until she looks down. "Shit."

You furrow your eyebrows, turning around from zipping up your own. "What?"

"My shoe's untied," she groans. "And I already zipped this damn thing up." You roll your eyes. She could easily unzip it and do it herself, but you know she doesn't want to.

"Just ask already, slick."

She's beaming at you again and you suck in a breath at the way her brown eyes always seem to twinkle, even in dim lights. "Tie it for me?" When you don't move, she clasps her hands together mockingly. "Please?"

"And we have a winner," you grin, bending down. She's wearing her beaten-up white Converse, and you tie it quickly, double-knotting the old, weathered laces. "Y'know, for the holidays, I'm getting you a new damn pair, these things have definitely seen better days—" you stop in your tracks when you look up. Tara's eyes are watching you with an odd expression you can't place, in a way you've never seen her look at you before. "What?" you ask.

As quickly as it flashes, Tara shoves it away, shaking her head. "Nothing, nothing." She herself seems surprised, blinking a few times as you stand back up. "We should go."

"Okay," you shrug, shoving your hands into the pockets of your pants. Tara leads the way out through the propped-open front door, right out into the cold. Tara lets out a cough, out into the air, and it turns to a condensation cloud in the cold.

New York is already icy, gearing up for winter, and the trees have shed their leaves to become small, barren branches. The house party wasn't that far from your flat or Tara's, which was part of why Sam was so okay with the both of you going. The only person more protective of Tara than you was Sam.

"So, how'd you find that out about him?" Tara asks, coughing, taking your arm in hers. She always said you were freakishly warm to the touch, but right now, it was probably a plus.

"I told you we have class together, right?"

Tara nods, her breath a little wheezy. "Yeah?"

"I talked to this girl, Ada, in that class, and she said it was true. I didn't ask how she knew, though, but she really laid into him for being an asshole."

"Hm," she hums. "And you didn't say anything about it?" You know she's teasing, but you shake your head.

"You seemed excited about him, and you can make your own choices. Plus, I didn't know if you'd really care, to be honest." She doesn't say anything back, but that weird look is back on her face, so you avert your own eyes, feeling a burning on your cheeks.

"Thanks," she whispers. "You always trust me more than Sam does."

The both of you walk about another block before Tara speaks again. "I'm hungry," she says, coughing into her hand.

"I've got food at mine?" you suggest, the cold night air tickling at the roof of your mouth as you speak. The tips of your ears are freezing, as is the back of your neck, and you shiver after a particularly harsh gust of wind. It's unforgiving, in that way, and the wind barrels down the tall streets, chilling people throughout the winter. Tara coughs again and you shoot her a look.

"This cold air is really messing me up," she says with an eye roll. "I'll be okay, let's just get home." You send her another wary glance but turn your attention back to the city. You and her pass a few high rises with people in the warm windows.

"Must be nice to be indoors right now," you grin. Tara smirks right back at you.

"Maybe we should've just stayed in and watched some movies."

You roll your eyes. "Oh, now who wants to take my suggestion?"

"Yeah, well, now I've got the bath calling for me," she says, unlinking your arms to adjust her jacket. "That and Love Is a Losing Game and the block button."

"Poor baby," you tease. "Must be nice having a bathtub."

"It is," she nods, still fiddling with the zipper and pulling it down a little. "I can have all the wine and bubble baths I want." She's still coughing, struggling through her words.

"Greedy," you laugh, walking on ahead. You get only a few steps before you notice Tara isn't following you.

"Hey, what—" When you turn around, you can see her eyes wide, and she wanders towards the curb, plopping herself down on the freezing pavement and clutching at her throat.

"Shit," you rush, quickly coming over and kneeling down in between her knees as she continues to cough. "Shit, shit, shit." Her eyes are wild as she struggles to breathe, and she grabs your hand tight, squeezing it sharp with her nails. "Tara, what's happening? Is this an attack?"

She only manages a small nod, coughing awfully and trying but failing to take in a wheezy breath. You swallow the lump in your throat, looking around for someone, anyone, but the street is deserted. "Where's your inhaler? Where is it?"

Tara's nails dig into the skin of your hand in between her coughing, drawing small crescent moons of blood. Her other hand goes to her jacket, lifting up the bulge over her chest that is her interior pocket. You nod, trying to unzip it, but for some reason, it's not coming down.

Her eyes are full of fear and the brimming of tears as she struggles to breathe, and you mess with the zipper, trying to pull it down in the cold. "God fucking dammit, it won't—" you try to explain, yanking on the damn thing, which continues not to budge. Her own fingers reach up to try and get at the zipper, but you beat her to it, harshly ripping it open.

Her medicine bag falls right out, and you open it, dumping everything out onto the pavement and picking up her small blue inhaler. She sends you that weird look again as you shake it for a few seconds, handing it over. She takes a wheezy breath out and places the inhaler over her lips as she shuts her eyes, breathing in as deep as she can. You wait nervously as she holds it in her mouth, before finally letting out a much easier exhale.

Tears are pricking the corner of her eyes, and you raise a soft hand to gently brush them away with the pad of your thumb as relief washes over you. She's breathing and she's okay, and that's all you really care about.

Tara's hand finally drops its grip on yours, and though your hand is stinging in the places she drew blood, you pay it no mind. You turn your attention to her medicine bag, picking up the bottle and bandaids you dumped out as she waits and takes another puff. You don't say anything, just silently start picking up her things and putting them away, zipping up the bag.

When it's in order, you give her a gentle smile and put the bag back into her jacket, plopping yourself down next to her as you wait for her to let you know she's okay. After another puff and about another minute, her breath is slowed, and the fast beating of your heart begins to slow as well.

===+++===

Tara doesn't say much, staring out onto the street in total silence as she takes deep breaths in and out. You watch her with a worried expression, tensing every time she lets out a cough, but it's quickly pushed away as her lungs relax. Even after twenty minutes go by, you both remain there, sitting in silence, your eyes never leaving her face, except for the occasional passing car.

After long enough, she scoots a bit closer to you, letting her own eyes find yours. "That was scary," she whispers.

"Yeah," you nod. "Sorry about... well, your jacket. I think I might've broken the zipper. Guess I'll have to get you that for the holidays too—"

She raises her hand, brushing some hair back from your forehead, her fingers lingering for a moment and then brushing themselves down your cheek. You freeze at the touch of her cold hands but do not pull away, feeling her trace your jaw and then lower, her hand stopping against you just below your collarbone, right above your heart. She's so close you can hear her breathing, feel her warmth and how it fans out across your cheeks.

"Tara—" you breathe, but before you can finish the sentence, which wouldn't have been particularly coherent anyway, she gently presses her lips against yours. It's soft and gentle, her lips slotting against your own in a perfect match. Before you can even process the divine sensation or try to give anything in return, she's pulling away, squeezing her eyes shut and apologising.

"Sorry, sorry, I must've gotten it wrong, I just, well...," she starts. Your mind is reeling at a thousand thoughts a second. "It's just that you're always there for me when no one else is, and I guess I—"

But this time, you're the one to cut her off. You lean forward, not even caring what else she has to say, instead kissing her back hard. She groans into it, her hands cupping your cheeks, holding you against her. It's magical, she's magical, and all those moments of wishing it was you she was kissing are gone because you are the one she's kissing.

Your hands slip around her waist, holding her against you as your lips move together in sync, the breeze gently moving against your skin. "I love you," she says against you, pulling you back in. It's softer than your hungry attack, but you cherish it more, letting her pull away and rest her forehead against yours. Once more, the cold is tickling at the newfound warmth you feel.

She pulls away from your lips but not from you. "I think I thought love was supposed to be this grand, tight battle. It's what my life was, some big battle. But not you. You're as easy and helpful as breathing. I love it about you that you love everyone else, too," she whispers. She reaches up placing a kiss upon your forehead. "Get it?" she laughs. "Breathing?"

"Too soon," you scoff, shaking your head. "I've loved you a long time, Tara," you reply, feeling your cheeks flush. "Through the assholes and the cowards and the people who wanted me. I've loved you. It might be chronic, I think I always will." You're so damn warm it's antithetical to the freezing chill that attempts to throw itself at you and Tara, only to be batted off by your hands upon each other.

She lets out a soft smile, putting her head back on your shoulder, only this time, it's your other one. "Maybe I should almost die more often if it means I get to have you."

You shake your head, leaning it against hers. "That's not funny," you scoff, and she rolls her eyes at you, gently prodding you in the side. "Besides," you smile. "You can have me any time now, you dork."

"That sounds nice," she hums against you. "But I still want pizza."

"Do you want to come back to mine? I think I have one in the freezer."

"Hm," she murmurs, then nuzzles deeper. "Five more minutes."

As easy as breathing, together.

===+++===

really struggled with the ending speech but i kind of liked not really having one? it's just kind of understood. no nice-guy 'it was me all along' or 'i'm sorry i didn't notice you sooner.'

[3igbootyl0ver]

who hurt you? [ii]

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: Tara mistakenly puts herself in a relationship she thought would be full of love.

word count: 1822

warnings: (Tara's POV), mentions of abuse, violence, angst, swearing

a/n: ok hi guys this is mostly Tara's POV and won't really be focusing btwn her and r's relationship. the next part would probably be the last one too but im always up on doing head canons for this pic. anyways apologies for any inaccuracy for this part, if ya'll have any feedback or suggestions feel free to dm me or send anonymously.

part [i] | part [iii] | part [iv] | part [v]

Tara never meant for any of this to happen.

She first met Amber a year ago, at a party that invited everyone from both Blackmore and Woodsboro High. Tara went with you at first, but you quickly got caught up in the chaos of the event, drinking with friends to drown your frustrations over the rivalry, leaving Tara to wander through the crowd alone.

Tara glanced around the room, feeling a bit out of place without you. It was her first real taste of a high school party, but somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. You were missing. Some were celebrating—laughing, dancing, and basking in the glory of their win over Blackmore—while others attended this party just for an excuse to get drunk, but Tara wasn’t feeling the same rush. That was when she noticed Amber standing off to the side, holding a drink and watching the crowd with a knowing smile.

Amber had been a wild card that night. No one expected her to show up, least of all Tara. But Amber’s reputation preceded her—everyone knew she was sharp, calculated, and, most importantly, she knew how to play the game. She wasn’t just there to celebrate; she was there to get ahead.

Tara’s initial impression of Amber was a mix of admiration and curiosity. Amber seemed to hold herself in a way that suggested she knew something no one else did. And that intrigued Tara, even if she couldn’t quite explain why.

As Tara wandered away from the chaotic center of the party, she ended up near Amber. The two of them started talking, mostly small talk at first—what they were doing after high school, the thrill of their victory, and the peculiar tension between Woodsboro and Blackmore. Tara found herself drawn to Amber’s cool confidence, the way she seemed to have everything under control.

But what started as a simple conversation slowly shifted into something deeper. Amber had a way of making Tara feel like she was the only one in the room, even when there were dozens of people around. Tara’s mind kept drifting back to the feeling Amber gave her: like maybe she could be something more, something beyond the quiet girl who never quite fit in.

And so, things began to unravel.

Tara never meant for it to go this far. It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious, just a casual connection. But somewhere along the way, Amber made it clear that she wasn’t just interested in Tara’s company—she had a plan, and Tara was a part of it. Tara hadn’t realized how deep Amber’s intentions went until it was already too late. Now, Tara was left to figure out how she’d let herself be pulled into something so complicated—something that, in hindsight, was far more than just a meeting between two people at a party.

Everything was bliss when Tara and Amber started dating. She was kind, gentle, and attentive—the kind of person who made Tara feel understood and like the most important person in the world. It felt like a dream. Amber would send her thoughtful texts, surprise her with little gifts, and always knew how to make her laugh. Tara felt safe, seen, and loved in a way she hadn’t before.

But as time went on, Amber’s true colors started to surface—slowly, almost imperceptibly at first.

It started with small criticisms. At first, they were disguised as concern, little comments about Tara’s appearance or habits that Amber claimed were meant to help her. "You know, if you ate healthier, maybe you wouldn't feel so tired all the time." Or, "I don’t think that outfit is really doing you any favors." Tara tried to brush it off, telling herself it was just Amber wanting her to be her best. But the comments grew sharper, more frequent.

"You always mess things up," Amber would say when Tara made a mistake, like forgetting to pick up groceries or missing a text. "Why can’t you ever get anything right?" Her tone wasn’t playful anymore. It was condescending, even cruel. Tara began to feel like she couldn’t do anything without Amber pointing out what she’d done wrong.

The verbal jabs escalated when Amber started to get possessive. At first, Tara thought it was just a sign of how much Amber cared. But Amber's jealousy started to feel suffocating. She'd ask Tara where she was going, who she was with, and why she didn’t tell her first. "You don't really need to hang out with them, do you?" Amber would ask, her voice dripping with insinuation. It would have been even worse if she had hung out with you. It was as if you were Amber's breaking point. "They don’t even care about you like I do." "I’m better than them; why are you still hanging out with them?"

Tara found herself apologizing constantly—for things she didn’t even understand; she would say sorry just to avoid the tension. 

It was always the same cycle: Amber would get irritated for no reason, her voice would grow cold and sharp just to insult Tara. "You always do this; you always make everything more difficult than it has to be. Why can’t you just do things right?". The next day, Amber would be apologetic, trying to console Tara, making her forget everything that happened the day before. She said all the right things, but Tara couldn’t ignore the knot of anxiety that lingered in her chest. She had a way of twisting everything, making Tara feel like she was always in the wrong, walking on eggshells.

And soon, the emotional abuse turned into physical fights. One day, Tara had dinner plans with Mindy when Amber confronted her again, "You always do this," she snapped. "You always choose them over me." Her voice was cold, venomous.

Tara tried to explain, but Amber wasn’t hearing it. "You think you can just leave whenever you want? No, you’re not going anywhere." Before Tara could react, Amber grabbed her by the arm—tightly, her fingers digging into Tara’s skin. "You’re hurting me, Amber; let me go!" Tara shouted, trying to pull away, but her grip tightened. She twisted Tara’s arm painfully, forcing her to sit down.

Tara’s heart was racing. She didn’t recognize this version of Amber—this wasn’t the woman she had fallen in love with. The love they once shared felt like a distant memory, replaced with anger, control, and fear. Tara was terrified, but she didn’t know how to escape. Before the day ended, Tara made up an excuse to Mindy that she couldn’t make it. She thought about her friends. Chad, Mindy, You. How will she be able to explain herself? She’s embarrassed and ashamed of herself if she were to ever face either of you. 

There was once when Amber picked up Tara from school when she saw her talking to you, both of you giggling like lovestruck teenagers, like you were in love with each other. And Amber simply couldn’t have that. Once both of them got back to Amber’s house, she gripped Tara’s arm, demanding an explanation. "So you’re just whoring around your school with someone else? Especially them? You’re just a slut, aren’t you?" Amber seethed, her nails digging into Tara’s skin, leaving another mark on her skin. Tara stood there, tears streaming down her face, knowing no matter what she said, it would be dismissed, twisted, or ignored. "You’re mine, Tara. I’m not letting you go anywhere," were the last words she heard before being shoved down the stairs, undoubtedly leaving bruises all over her body. She knew the next day Amber would whisper apologies, giving her kisses and hugging her in an attempt to make her forget.

Tara began pulling away, distancing herself from you, from Chad, from Mindy, from Anika—everyone. It wasn’t that she didn’t care anymore, but she couldn’t bear the thought of Amber’s wrath falling on them, especially you. She couldn’t risk you getting hurt because of her, couldn’t risk Amber turning her anger on the people she loved. The more Tara tried to protect her friends, the more she isolated herself.

Every moment felt like a calculation; every text, every phone call, every plan made without Amber’s approval felt like a risk. Tara started to feel like a prisoner in her own life, like Amber was always there—watching, waiting for her to slip up, to make a mistake.

Amber had a way of making her feel like she was constantly under surveillance, always one misstep away from an explosion. Tara couldn’t shake the feeling that Amber was breathing down her neck, that every time she laughed too loudly with a friend or spent too much time away from her, Amber would find out. And when Amber found out, the consequences would be brutal. Tara had learned that the hard way.

It was like living in a constant state of fear. Tara’s heart would race whenever she saw a message from you or heard from one of her friends. She hated that it had come to this—that Amber’s control over her had stretched so far that she couldn’t even speak freely without worrying about the fallout.

But more than anything, she hated that the woman she loved, the woman she had trusted, had become someone she feared. Every day, she woke up wondering how much longer she could live like this. How much longer until Amber's control over her—and over everyone she cared about—was too much to bear?

Amber’s behavior spiraled even further. The emotional abuse had crossed into physical violence, and Tara was left unsure of where it would go next. Amber would apologize, beg for forgiveness, and then turn around and hurt her again. Tara began to feel like she was losing herself. She was afraid of what might happen if she tried to leave, afraid of what Amber might do. 

Though she would still post pictures of them together, of them being in a happy relationship for people to see online, the reality was far different. Behind the carefully staged photos, the smiles seemed forced, the laughter hollow. She knew the posts didn’t reflect the late-night arguments or the hidden marks on Tara’s body. Yet, there was comfort in the illusion, in maintaining a facade that everyone else admired. It was easier to keep up the pretense than to confront the discomfort of what was really happening—of the slow unraveling that no one could see. The attention, the validation from likes and comments, provided a temporary sense of relief, a distraction from the gnawing uncertainty she felt every time she looked at Amber when the camera was off. It became a blurred line for Tara to interpret what was the reality and the sick image she created of her and Amber online. 

But one thing was clear: this wasn’t love anymore. And Tara didn’t know how much longer she could stay in a relationship that was slowly suffocating her.

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a/n: next update might be awhile bc exam season is coming up and im a chill girl that needs to rest so you'll probably hear from me in like 2-3 weeks :p