ghostfaceaddams

[ghostfaceaddams]

ibold | chapter one

summary: The five survivors of the 2022 Woodsboro massacre are now in New York City moving on with their lives or trying to at least.

warnings: cussing and a moment of violence in a flashback, that's all, I think.

word count: 3,060.

a/n: This is my baby so I hope everyone likes it! Feel free to pick an actress as Cairo or just have your own image of her in your mind or pretend you're Cairo; whatever makes the reading experience better for you guys.

series masterlist | next part

She was the most beautiful human being Cairo had ever seen in all of her eighteen-and-a-half years of being alive on earth. Living in New York City, you see a shit ton of people every day and that is literal. Hypothetically, you see a million people in a year; at stores, on walks, as extras in a tv show or movie, etc.

Out of all of those people, no one even compared to the raven-haired girl across the room. She was short, but Cairo could always spot her no matter the crowd. Most people teased her for her height, but Cairo genuinely found it endearing. Her smile was brighter than quasars, constantly leaving Cairo on her knees and rendering her useless. She had dimples accenting her marble, smooth cheeks. It was such a funny thing to Cairo, that dimples were biologically considered imperfections, but non-scientists find them alluring. All of the freckles kissing across her face were the stars in Cairo’s galaxy, the girl being Cairo’s revolving world. She had a unique voice that wasn’t like anyone else’s. There was a rasp to the edge of her words; sometimes the rasp was thickly coated, like when she woke up in the morning or was running out of breath or got excited. It could be deep, but not Sophia Bush deep. No matter what, it was always soft and pleasant sounding. A lot of people agreed with Cairo that listening to the other girl’s voice was calming, a remedy for anxiety even. Her eyes were big but not the repugnant kind. They were a deep brown that could light up and yet still remain mysterious. Her eyes were her most innocent feature and the ones that got her everything she wanted. She wasn’t just hot though. No. Her brain could remember the entire dialogue to The Babadook and graduated at the top of her class. She was very perceptive in a mostly subtle way. Snark was a fabulous hobby of hers and her heart was the most golden heart that ever shone. Selflessness and loyalty were the foundations of her persona, of who she was; what made her her. Everyone tripped over themselves at her natural, graceful beauty. Half of them were privy enough to see what she was about on the inside and fall head over heels for her. Cairo was definitely the latter. So was Chad. Cairo couldn’t blame him for falling for her childhood best friend. It’d be concerning if he didn’t. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less to watch him give heart eyes to the girl she was in love with. ‘She could never be yours anyways. You know that.’ Falling in love with your best friend was the worst form of emotional pain imaginable.

Cairo despised the media and pop culture that romanticized the trope, especially the ones with a happy ending. Happy endings were overrated and unrealistic, especially when it came to “unrequited love.” It either ends up being requited, or they find someone else. That wasn’t always the case though. For eighteen years, Tara had only ever looked at Cairo with platonic respect and adoration.

Ever since she was a teen, Cairo tried to find someone else to crush on and hoped for someone to want her. The last part never happened until this year. She was still out of luck in the crushing department. At the end of the day though, as much as Cairo felt like she was suffocating, she was happy for Chad and Tara. They were both her friends that she cared about and loved deeply. She’d never risk their happiness for her own, especially when it wasn’t likely to lead to happiness for her. Cairo winced as she sipped the awful beer in the red solo cup. It didn’t matter how hard she tried with alcohol; it just didn’t fancy her like it did the others. “Hey, Roe.” Cairo didn’t need to look up to know that it was Quinn who was standing beside her. Quinn was the only one who ever called her that, her own personal nickname for Cairo.

Everyone else called the brunette girl by her full name - or Cai - and teachers called her by her last name - Miss Reed - or Cairo. She really hated her name sometimes. Well, most of the time if she was being honest. “Hey, Quinn.” The ginger got to work with grabbing two red solo cups and picking up one of the glass bottles of alcohol. Cairo bit her lip and scanned the packed room for any sign of her roommate or their other two friends. Cairo turned back to Quinn to shout over the music, “Where’s Anika?” Quinn was grinning when she spoke, her eyes glittering intoxicatingly. “She’s trying to help Ethan score a date.” “Key word trying.” Cairo teased earning a chuckle from the other girl. “Mindy is having fun watching, and I am getting drinks for myself and that cute boy waiting for me.” Cairo turned to follow the direction Quinn had pointed to with her eyes. The boy looked to be the same height as Quinn with curly hair & a stubble that made him seem like a fuckboy, but his boyish smile and awkward wave was contradicting. The brunette nodded her head. She took a step closer to the ginger and leaned in close so she could be heard. “I think I’m going to leave, maybe check on Sam on the way back.” Before the friend group had rallied together and ventured off to this party, the Carpenter sisters had gotten into it...again.

The arguing between the two sisters was becoming more and more frequent as time was going on. Everyone was on edge, wanting to say something to ease the tension but not knowing what to do or knowing if it was their place to even do or say anything. The twins and Cairo worried more than anyone, having grown up with the two sisters. Tara used to listen to Cairo and the others when they had something to say. Especially Cairo. Nowadays, Tara only ever listened to herself and only did what sounded pleasing to her. Guess Chad sounded especially pleasing to the girl. Cairo was really trying not to think about that though. About any of it really. “What? Come on, you said you were going to try!” Quinn lightly smacked the back of her hand against Cairo’s bicep. The brunette chuckled halfheartedly and raised her eyebrows. “And I did, now I’m leaving.” Cairo knew that if she didn’t move her ass at that very second, Quinn was going to showcase a frown and beg Cairo to stay “for herself and not me.”

(It was true, Quinn was doing this all to help Cairo take her mind off of the girl she couldn’t have. But it was becoming too much for Cairo.) Quinn was already in the midst of tilting her head to the side and parting those talented lips. But Cairo was quicker. She was quicker than anyone at everything, except for telling Tara her feelings. Which was precisely why she was in this predicament. “I’ll see you later, Quinn.” Quinn sighed but let Cairo give her a hug and turn to head out the door. It wasn’t until she was down the sidewalk and turning into the quad on campus that Cairo finally felt like she could breathe. She dunked her head down and placed her hands on her hips. She couldn’t stop seeing Tara with Chad.

Or with Amber. She had thought that watching Tara kiss or hold hands with Amber was painful, to watch Tara’s eyes light up whenever she saw or talked about Amber, having to encourage Tara to make a move and smile for her, she thought all of that hurt.

But this…this was so much worse. Cairo almost wished she was back in high school, watching the two girls parade around. Walking in on Chad and Tara, that had been worst of all.

It was her own fault, she should’ve knocked a second time and waited for an okay. But she could tell something was wrong with Tara and she had to get to the bottom of it before she permanently lost her mind. There were too many days spent canceled and nights spent on read. It wasn’t like Tara, not even when she was with Amber. She had left the apartment, bolting down the stairs and struggling to hold the bile in before making it outside. There wasn’t any shame in her body as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve and stood up. They lived in New York City, some girl puking on the sidewalk was the least weird thing citizens saw. Cairo went back to the dorm that night crying. Anika was staying at Mindy’s dorm, which was only down the hallway, so she didn’t have to worry about being bombarded with questions.

She spent the rest of the evening into later afternoon, hibernating under her covers with her earbuds in and curtains drawn. She was in the shower, changing out of her clothes from the night before finally, when Anika made it back. They spoke briefly through the curtain and then Anika was gone, off to hang out more with her girlfriend and their friends.

So, Cairo just dressed in whatever she found and got back into bed with a trashcan nearby. Having to pretend for another month like she didn’t know they were together was utter torture for Cairo.

Every time she was around Chad she felt nauseated, and she couldn’t look at Tara without her throat starting to hurt from suppressing sobs. At parties, she got blackout drunk so that she didn’t have to remember them being touchy with one another. She stopped texting Tara as much and didn’t ask to hang out anymore. For two months, Cairo had been smiling in the presence of the couple and drinking herself to sleep. She was getting tired of the drinking if she was honest. Being hungover and heartbroken was the most horrific combo.

The past few days she had been lying in bed with her hood blocking her from the rest of the world and earbuds drilled in. She hated how much of a baby she was about this whole thing. Hell, this felt worse than all of the stabs she received last year.

(Or the single one she received at eight years old.) Or worse than the betrayal of her older sister who she had idolized. “Tara will never be yours, Cairo.” “She doesn’t have to be, as long as she isn’t yours.” Then she headbutted Amber, sending the girl staggering backwards. There were three gunshots that sang Cairo to sleep.

When she woke up, Sidney was there. She didn’t see Tara until the next day. Since then, she hadn’t seen Tara a whole lot. She figured that the young Carpenter girl blamed her for the Ghostface attacks or wished that she hadn’t made it out alive.

Or maybe she cared more about Chad than Cairo. She wasn’t really sure. All Cairo was ever sure of anymore was that she missed her cousin Sidney. Sidney had wanted to adopt Cairo after being orphaned, but authorities thought it was best for her to stay with a closer relative, her father. He had no problem signing his rights over to Kirby three years later when she finally turned 21 years old.

For reasons that didn’t make sense, he didn’t want to give Cairo over to Sidney. Cairo thinks he just reached his limit and saw Kirby as the closest scapegoat. “You still want me?” “Of course I do. I might have adopted you, but you’ll always be my little sister, and I’ll always take care of you. Okay?” Cairo blew out a raspberry and started walking in the direction of the Carpenter-Quinn household.

It took two knocks in two intervals for Sam to open the door.

Cairo stood on the other side, twirling her earbuds around; to the left and to the right, raveling the cord around her finger and unraveling it. She immediately dropped her hand, holding her earbuds with both hands, when the door opened. Cairo grinned mischievously and cocked her head to the side. “Hello, Cute Boy.” Said man chuckled softly and smiled charmingly at the shorter girl. Cairo kept on smiling as the man turned back to Sam, who looked rather uncomfortable at the whole situation. “I’ll call you later.” The stranger said. Sam nodded her head and lifted her tense lips up. “Okay.” “Okay.” The man said, still smiling dreamily at Sam. Cairo had to duck her head down and scratch her cheek as the man walked by so he wouldn’t see her cheesing. She watched him walk down the stairs, turning back to look at Sam at the top step before continuing.

She raised her dusty brown eyebrows at Sam with the same antagonizing grin in place. “Cute Boy from across the hall, huh?” Sam scoffed and rolled her eyes. Her reluctant smile contradicted her previous actions.

All Cairo could do was laugh. “Get in.” Sam nudged her head behind her. Cairo did as she was told, plopping herself down on the couch. Sam gave the brunette a reprimanding look, but it didn’t succeed its message.

The younger girl had her hands clasped behind her head and was smiling gorgeously. It was the smile that made her gray-brown eyes sparkle and had Sam wishing for a different life for the girl. Sam smiled and crossed her arms in that sisterly manner of hers. “What are you doing here, Cairo?” The brunette shrugged nonchalantly. But her downcast eyes and moving feet said she was uncomfortable. “Just came to check on you.” When she flicked her gaze up, she saw Sam looking to the side and nodding her head. She released her bottom lip and ran a hand through her inky black hair as she descended on the couch.

The older girl smacked Cairo’s shoes prompting her to raise her feet. She promptly set them back down on Sam’s lap afterwards. Sam cupped the top of the girl’s bottom legs and turned to look at her.

Cairo no longer had her hands behind her head but clasped carefully on her stomach. She was looking at Sam like she was the older sister or the mom, patiently waiting for the girl to speak and waiting to catch Sam if need be. “She’s not dealing with this, Cairo.” The gray-brown eyed girl sighed empathetically, her head nodding along. “Does she talk to you about it?” Sam asked. Cairo glanced down at her lap and shifted. “She doesn’t talk much to me anymore.” It wasn’t like Tara had just dropped Cairo.

They stilled texted a lot and there were frequent phone calls. But ever since the attacks in Woodsboro last year, Tara had been keeping her distance from Cairo. When they did talk or see each other, it was as if everything was the same as it had been before. Ever since Chad and Tara had finally come forward with their relationship (even though it was painfully obvious to everyone), Tara had been more talkative and social with Cairo. The brunette couldn’t help but feel like maybe Chad had said something to prompt the change. He was a nice guy, very protective and loyal to those closest to him, goofy and definitely attractive. Cairo loved Chad. It just made everything hurt so much more. Cairo lifted her gaze from her twitchy fingers to gauge the older girl.

She was looking off into the distance, watching memories and worst-case scenarios on the blank tv screen. Sam looked miserable. That tended to happen when you worried about your little sister’s trauma. “What about you?” Sam stitched her eyebrows together and frowned at the younger girl. Cairo took that as a prompt to elaborate further. “How are you doing with…dealing about this? How’s therapy going?” Sam heaved a heavy sigh that left Cairo’s heart twisting uncomfortably. “I think I need to find a new therapist. This guy pushed me to open up the other night then wanted to assign me to someone else. Pretty sure he has a foot fetish too.” Sam added the last part thoughtfully. “Sounds like a douche. I say dump his ass before he dumps you. But don’t dump Cute Boy.” Cairo grinned like a cheshire cat. Sam rolled her eyes fondly, pushing the brunette’s legs off of her.

Cairo squeaked as she tilted to the side, almost falling off the couch and onto the floor. She watched as Sam got up, heading into the dining room to clean up. That’s when Cairo noticed the two wine glasses and two empty plates. (Cairo tried not to worry about the wine glasses. It was just wine…right? It was drugs and beer that were Sam’s vices, not wine. Christina was the one whose vice was alcohol in general. That woman would drink anything she could get her hands on. Anything that fuzzed her thoughts and shattered her inhibitions was welcomed to her digestive system.) There weren’t any candles or dimly lit lights on in the apartment, so it didn’t seem like they were going for an intimate night. Which made sense, because Sam didn’t know if Tara would be coming back or not.

It didn’t take a genius to piece together that no one knew about Cute Boy because Sam didn’t want to set Tara off in any way. Still, Cairo felt bad for interrupting their date night. “His name is Danny, and we aren’t dating.” Sam said lightly from the kitchen. Cairo shrugged as she picked up a weird looking piece of chicken to sniff. “Could’ve fooled me.” There wasn’t any noise except for the clinking of cutlery and spray of water. Cairo hoisted herself up onto the counter in the kitchen and cupped the edge. “I’m not going to tell anyone that I saw him here, I won’t even mention him at all. Now, tell me about how long this has been going on and who initiated it.” Sam couldn’t help but blush as Cairo smiled and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Cairo laughed softly at the flustered woman and playfully kicked her calf. When a minute passed by with no answer, Cairo raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Sam playfully scoffed and shook her head before begrudgingly starting.

#jenna ortega #tara carpenter #ghostfaceaddams #sam carpenter #scream fanfic #scream franchise #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x oc #tara carpenter fic #gfaddamswritingcorner

[ghostfaceaddams]

tnhome | chapter one

summary: A look at Tara's current lifestyle and a look back at burying her mother.

warnings: 18+, talk of violence, talk of addiction, cussing, and a funeral for a flashback. That's all, I think.

word count: 3,446

a/n: Hope you all enjoy! It's been done a long time and in my drafts for half that amount of time and hasn't been posted because I was too nervous to. But here it is finally!

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One-thousand-and-ninety-five days. That’s how many days it had been since Tara last saw or heard from her big sister. A full three years. That was all going to change tonight. Pretty soon, Sam would be back and the big bad monster that was their mother would be gone. The sisters could be reunited again, and Tara could finally be happy again.

While Tara didn’t get Sam back that night, Sam did return to Woodsboro in December. On the first day of the month, she showed up on the Hicks’ front door step and politely asked for Tara. She made sure to thank Judy - and Wes - for looking out for Tara the last three years and for taking the young girl into their home for the past seven months. Before Judy returned Tara to her big sister, Sam had to prove that she was sober. That meant providing signed documents from AA meetings and a urine test. Her one year sobriety chip wasn’t too bad either.

So, after that, the Carpenter sisters were reunited. Now it was September 8th and school was back in session. It was Tara’s senior year to be exact. All the parents of her friends always said that their senior year was the most fun and the easiest (as well as the saddest), but so far it had been nothing but hell for the girl. Especially seeing you draped all over Amber all the fucking time. In the halls, in class, in the cafeteria, in and outside of school. Seeing those two so smitten together was nearly unbearable for Tara. The Latina couldn’t help the visions she had; visions of a buck 120 and blood, the resemblance to her mother’s dead body uncanny. “Tar-Bear, you listening to me?” Tara blinked away the bloodlust and focused on you.

She couldn’t help but smile at the glimmer in your eyes and scooted closer. The two of you were sitting on her bed attempting to do homework but were really listening to Mitski and talking. It was one of Tara’s favorite activities to partake in with you. “Sorry, you know Mitski just tends to take me to some other universe with her music.” You ducked your head down as you snickered and shook your head. This only caused Tara’s smile to widen into a prideful grin, that grin was mostly reserved for just you. “I was asking if you wanted to come over and watch Barbarian this Friday. I’ve heard nothing but good reviews and I think it might be that elevated horror that you prefer.” “You just want to see Bill Skarsgård.” Tara grinned. You reached down and flicked Tara on the nose, causing the shorter girl to wrinkle her nose and roll away for a second. But just a second, because she could never stay away from you for too long. There had been numerous times in the past two years where Amber and Tara had gotten into fights - a few had even turned physical. Amber was always so smug, thinking that she could get you to turn on Tara - your best friend - and believe your girlfriend instead. It didn’t work, of course, but you didn’t pick either side. Tara knows why, and it makes her entire body fume with this rage that had her teeth nearly shattering from her clenched jaw and had her hands trembling.

Sam was so perceptive when it came to her baby sister, she could detect the ever-slightest twitch to the side of Tara’s lips and how rigid her tiny body got. It was usually when their mother would - inevitably - do something to hurt her daughters (verbally or physically). But Amber was caught on the receiving end quite a bit as well. Sam never really did understand why the two were friends and she didn’t understand why they were still friends. Amber was always stealing things from Tara, like her crayons or toys or friends, or her crush. She’d be the first to spat foul words or initiate physical roughness with Tara. It only got worse the older the girls got. The past two years had been a startling confirmation of that. “So it’s mutually beneficial, that’s just more reason for you to come over and watch. Or I could come over here if you’d like.”

You carefully moved a few strands of inky black hair from Tara’s face, noticing the way her eyes swelled with adoration and her body sagged against your lap. “Just you and me, right?” Tara couldn’t help but ask. Tara couldn’t help herself with a lot of things; couldn’t help but call Sam every day after she had left, couldn’t help but sneak over to your house even though she would receive a beating from Christina the next day, couldn’t help but get into physical fights with anyone who so much as slightly elevated her heart rate (especially the ones who spoke about fucking you or would stare at your ass).

Couldn’t help but plunge a knife into her mother repeatedly. “My parents are going to be gone this weekend for some conference my dad has, Amber’s going with the twins and Liv to Crater Point for some stupid party, and Wes is spending time with his mom. So, unless Sam would like to join us, it will just be me and you. And Chrissie, of course.” Chrissie was your dog, named after Jordana Brewster’s character in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning and gifted to you by Tara.

The young Carpenter had of course checked with your parents first; dogs cost a shit ton of money and Tara didn’t want her best friend’s parents to hate her when they practically loved her more than their biological child. Took most of Tara’s money from savings and her paychecks all summer, but Chrissie was worth it. Anything was worth getting to see you smile. Your happiness was Tara’s number one priority in life, and she hated that she was slacking at her duties. She needed to step it up and figure out a plan that wouldn’t cause any ounce of pain for you. “Ah, Chrissie. I’ve missed her.” Tara sticks her bottom lip out in a pout, earning a crackling chuckle from you that sounds more like a scoff. “Well, she misses you, too.” The two of you smile at each other for a moment before easily dissolving into a comfortable silence, one that was common between them. It wasn’t the common occurrence where both would settle their attention on their phones and exist in the same room. No, it was the two of them telepathically sharing thoughts and emotions without saying a word, or to just exist with each other. Silence had always been a rule that Christina brandished in the household, the scars on Tara’s knuckles were reminders of that. Amber always blew up on you when you were too quiet because it unnerved her.

Both of you could only find solace in one another when it came to silence; you didn’t feel like a crazy person and Tara wasn’t scared to stay quiet. A buzzing filtered the air, disturbing the perfect tranquility of the moment. Seeing as how the music didn’t quiet down, it wasn’t Tara’s phone. Didn’t take two seconds for a confirmation from you as you reached over to grab your phone. The slightest puckering of lips and flutter of eyebrows was a dead giveaway for Tara about who had texted you. Amber. Fucking Amber. You typed something back before setting your phone down and gently moving from underneath Tara. She sat up and watched with disappointing eyes as you gathered your things. “Amber’s here.” You sighed. ‘Of course. Of fucking course! Amber ruins everything. She- ‘ Tara’s inner turmoil was halted when you wrapped your arms around her and hugged her tightly. It didn’t go unnoticed by Tara how you two were positioned so you weren’t in front of the window. She had purposely left her blinds open knowing that you two would be spending the day together. Make that only the afternoon. “I thought Sam and I were going to give you a ride home after dinner.” You smiled apologetically and headed towards the bedroom door, not even waiting for Tara to get up off the bed and walk you to the door.

That’d been happening a lot lately, you wouldn’t let her walk you out. It was always subtle, how you’d inch away or wave her off if you guys were at somebody else’s house. Part of Tara - the irrational part - was determined that you were sick of being her friend and were ashamed to be seen with her. The rational part of her reassured her that it had nothing to do with how you saw others seeing you and Tara, but how Amber saw you and Tara.

So, either way, the irrational part of Tara was going to win, and she’d want to rip the skin off of Amber’s face and shove it down her throat until she stopped breathing. Okay. A bit too graphic. ‘Stick to the buck 120, Carpenter.’ “I’m really sorry, Amber just showed up and I can’t really turn her down now that she’s here, that’d be rude.” You swallowed, knowing that either way you were being rude. “Tell Sam sorry for me, will you? I really didn’t know Amber was going to show up.” For the time span of two heartbeats, Tara just stared at you with this blank expression that you saw from her too often. There were some days where it was worse than others, but it hardly happened when Tara was one-hundred-percent focused on you and it was just you two. Tara blinked away her blank expression, replacing it with a cool, hard one that screamed of indifference. But her eyes always gave her away. How they would flash when they flickered down and then darkened when she looked back up.

Of course, there was various darkness’ to Tara’s eyes, so many that you couldn’t even identify what each of them meant. She blinked and swallowed and nodded her head. “That’s okay, we understand. I’ll make sure to tell Sam that.” You grimaced one last weak apologetic smile before ducking out the bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind you (as if Christina was still alive and would smack Tara for the minimalist amount of noise). Part of Tara wanted to just jump off her bed and throw her arms around your divine (and bruised) shoulders to show off to the entire neighborhood that you were friends.

But Tara knew that it was petty and selfish, and those two things could lead to some very bad consequences between you and Amber. “Fucking Amber.” Tara muttered before grabbing one of her pillows and pinning her head against her mattress, wondering how long she could hold her breath.

The sun isn’t out. Tara of course didn’t know that was going to happen when she planned this funeral. And yes, she did plan this all on her own. Judy of course helped out with all the legal mumbo-jumbo and Martha pitched in with the food for the service after the funeral, but Tara picked the date and casket and everything. She made sure she picked the cheapest casket available despite Christina making a respectable amount of money, and she made sure she went to a different cometary.

One that Billy Loomis wasn’t buried at. So many years have passed that there wasn’t any space beside the deceased, teenage serial killer anyways, but still, Tara had to make sure Christina knew that she didn’t get to be happy. ‘You say I took Sam and Dad away from you? Well fine, I’ll take Billy away from you too, for a second time. Take that, Mom.’ But anyways.

The sun isn’t out and this cometary isn’t as modest as the main one in Woodsboro. This cemetery was close to the edge of Woodsboro too, an eternal torment for Christina. She can look right down the road and see her escape! But she never left Woodsboro when she was alive, and now she no longer had the chance to, just a reminder that she once did. Yeah, Tara really put a lot of thought into all of this. The sun hiding was just an added bonus. For once, luck was on her side it seemed. “Hey, Tara.” The orphaned Latina looked up from her spot in her white, plastic chair and at the sound of the voice. She was surprised to see more people accompanying the single voice. It was the twins and Wes; Chad had been the one to speak. Showtime. She “weakly” quirked her lips up in a sad-slash-appreciative smile at the trio. “Hey guys. Thanks for coming.” “Yeah, of course.” Chad said in that serious voice of his that made his voice slightly go higher and had his eyebrows furrowing. Mindy nodded her head beside her brother. “Of course.” Wes repeated Chad’s last sentiment. “We’re here for you no matter what. Is there anything we can do for you or get you anything?” The boy went on to ask. She kept that grimace-mixed-smile on her face and gently shook her head. “No but thank you. You guys being here is doing enough.” Wes smashed his lips together and quirked them up at the corners to nod his head. The twins followed suit with their nodding.

Before they went on to take their seats, the trio took their turns each giving Tara a solo hug before deciding for an impromptu group hug.

Being sixteen-years-old and attending your friend’s funeral for her mother can be a very awkward attendance. You don’t always know how to act or what to say at a funeral when you’re only sixteen, especially when you have to comfort someone else. Tara knows that and doesn’t let it bother her.

Besides, it’s not like she’s actually sad she “had” to kill her mom and now she’s buried six feet under. She’s quite the opposite, actually. She’s elated that Christina is dead and not alive to throw another glass at her head or grip her arm so hard that it leaves marks. Tara’s happy that her mom can’t hurt her anymore, plain and simple. The teen couldn’t help but feel lonely though.

She had heard from Sam; her older sister wasn’t going to make it because she was in the middle of detoxing. Sam had been sober from alcohol for over a year, but news of her mother’s death left her consoling herself with a needle and then she just got hooked. Sam had sounded rough on the phone when Tara spoke to her, breathing heavily and speaking feverishly, but Sam reassured her little sister that she was fine. Despite her habit of lying to Tara so Tara would believe her and not worry, Tara still believed her.

That was Tara’s one fault in life: her big sister Sam. After all, she killed Christina to make Sam come back. She guesses that makes Sam becoming addicted to drugs her own fault. But then she reminds herself that Sam had already been an alcoholic, so becoming a drug addict isn’t a far stretch.

Besides, if Christina had been a decent mother that didn’t wish her child would die, this funeral wouldn’t be happening, and Sam wouldn’t have been tempted. So, it’s not Tara’s fault, she reasons with herself. It’s just fucking life, the addictive genetic and the abusive mother. Tara would never hurt Sam on purpose anyways, she loved Sam more than anyone in the entire world. Well, except for maybe- “Hey, Tara.” You. “Y/N.” Tara expressed her relief in your appearance.

She stood up and you made sure to present yourself for an engulfing hug. Tara wrapped her arms around your shoulders and closed her eyes as your arms wrapped around her comfortingly. Amber watched on distastefully. The crossed arms and scowl were a comical combination that almost caused Tara to laugh. But they were at a funeral, Tara had a role to uphold, and she couldn’t break it, or it could be detrimental.

So, she just closed her eyes again and focused back on your embrace. “Thank you for coming.” Tara said to you before pulling away from you and focusing Amber with a look. “Both of you.” “Sure, no problem. I mean, shit man, you’re burying your mom.” Amber remarked. Tara steadied the raven-haired girl with a glare of disbelief. The Latina was not impressed, clearly. Even if she did plan all of this and was happy her plan to kill her own mom worked, Tara still didn’t appreciate Amber being so crass. “Amber.” You scolded. Amber looked at you and sighed like it was such an inconvenience to her to be nice to Tara on the day of her mother’s funeral. “Sorry, Tara.” Amber said lamely. “How’re you holdin’ up?” Tara swallowed with jew clenched, letting the moment settle in the pit of her stomach. “I’m managing.” Is all Tara said. Amber scoffed, clearly not seeing why Tara was being so short with her. But before things could escalate, you were reaching out to hold Tara’s hand.

The Latina’s wide, doe eyes softened immediately upon resting on you. They pooled with wetness at the way you rubbed your thumb over the back of Tara’s hand. Oh, you were such an angel. A true blessing to every life you visited. Every morning and every night Tara would thank God for introducing her to you and becoming best friends. She appreciated you far more than Amber ever could, and she knew that. She just wished you knew that as well. The way Tara looked at you with those wide, doe eyes glistening with adoration and faux-unshed tears, it was so obvious how in love she was with you. Even someone as blind and deaf as Helen Keller could pick up on the aroma of unconditional love from Tara. How you didn’t see it was beyond her, and beyond Amber as well. Between the hand-holding and Tara’s love-sick gaze, Amber’s moment of kindness was up. “Come on babe, the service is getting ready to start.” With Amber’s outstretched hand and stony-no-room-for-discussion eyes, Tara was sure you were going to bid her farewell and she wouldn’t see you again until after the funeral. You looked at Tara who was staring at the ground that would soon swallow her mother whole, and then you looked at Amber’s calm yet demanding stare.

Then, you calmly said, “I’m going to stay with Tara.” Tara lifting her head to stare at you in awe left Amber wanting to shove the Latina’s face into the ground.

But seeing as how this was a funeral for Tara’s mother and Tara was now a grieving, sixteen-year-old, orphan, that action would be deemed unsavory. So, Amber swallowed her rage and implemented her perfect actress facade. After all the acting Tara had done, she could easily spot Amber’s. “Yeah, of course. I’ll see you guys after, okay?” Amber’s voice was light and gentle with faux compassion, and her squeeze to you and Tara’s arms felt affectionate. Amber quirked her lips up in a tiny smile meant to comfort Tara and soothe you then walked away.

As soon as the raven-haired girl was beyond your shoulder, you were squeezing Tara’s hand and gently pulling her down to the uncomfortable chair. You smiled gently at Tara when she looked at you, and it left Tara tumbling through the whirlwind of love all over again. Together, you both sat down and waited in comfortable silence for the pastor to show and start the service. Your hold on Tara’s hand never once faltered throughout the service. Even when Tara stood at the podium to give the eulogy (she was very tempted to spew all of the guttural truth of Christina Reyes like how she’d spew blood after a punch, but she held herself back), you never tore your encouraging eyes from Tara’s wobbly ones. That’s how it’d always been, just the two of you together against the rest of the world. Christina tried to take Tara out of the world and Amber tried to replace Tara, but they were nothing against you and Tara’s universal, imperishable bond. It was like…how could Tara explain it? Everything needs substance to live and adapts in order to do so. When it came to you and Tara, that’s how it was, as simple as living. If that made any sense. Tara wasn’t sure it did to most people, but it did to her, and she knew it would make sense to you as well. Just further proof of her philosophy on life with you.

#ghostfaceaddams #tara carpenter x y/n #jenna ortega #gfaddams tnhome #gfaddamswritingcorner #ghostface tara carpenter #amber freeman x y/n #scream 5 characters but non canon events #tara carpenter

[ghostfaceaddams]

MASTERLISTS

requests closed.

marvel masterlist

jenna ortega & characters masterlists

extra masterlists!

side blog

[ghostfaceaddams]

Pickles Masterlist

What I write: fluff and smut, series, thoughts, imagines, drabbles, HC’s

No: male readers (so don ask), incest (list will be continued as time goes on as I find many Icks along the way), minors or men they will be blocked

Request: open, please talk to me I have no friends.

About me: I like pickles and the color green but they don’t have emerald green font on here so everything sucks. I am twenty years old and I work at a hospital as a CNA and am working on getting my RN as we speak. I’m a slut for @makncheese12, she’s my baby girl and I want her to wrap her hands around my throat. If you want to know anything else just ask babes.

Characters/people I write: Wednesday Addams, Lorraine Day, Jenna Ortega, Tara Carpenter, Vada Cavell and Camila Montes. No more so please don’t ask

Tagslist: join if you want to be tagged, this is for everything be warned. By liking or reblogging it you’re telling me you want to join🫶🏻 (I meant the tagslist since some people are getting it confused, not the Masterlist so make sure to click the link first!)

Prompts I found/my prompts: if you want to request but have no ideas use these🫶🏻

Any account I think is a bot account will be blocked, sorry not sorry

Join my discord server

Wattpad: @picklesorrow

—

Wednesday Addams-

Messy (NSFW)

Breathless (NSFW)

Of the fittest (NSFW)

Jenna Ortega-

Lock it (NSFW)

Soft (NSFW)

In my arms

Lorraine Day-

Good Mornin’ (NSFW)

Amber Freeman-

Tara Carpenter-

Best-friends (NSFW)

Ain’t my fault (NSFW)

Vada Cavell-

High and Low (NSFW)

[ghostfaceaddams]

masterlist :)

welcome to my blog!

rules + guidelines

for even more: wattpad

last updated: september 15, 2023

------

☆ = personal favorites

Marvel

More Than Capable (Kate Bishop x reader)

Mahd Wy'ry (Thena x reader)

Tara Carpenter

drunk ☆

arachnophobia

notes

sisters, sisters

the shakespeare exhibit ☆ ⤷ part 2 ⤷ drabble 1 ⤷ part 3 ⤷ part 4 ⤷ part 5 ⤷ part 6 (smut, 18+) ⤷ drabble 2 ⤷ part 7 ⤷ drabble 3 ⤷ part 8 ⤷ drabble 4 ⤷ part 9 ⤷ drabble 5

distrust

Wednesday Addams

a love more than love

a child?!

Vada Cavell

sore loser

childhood friends

wisdom teeth ☆

party ⤷part 2 (smut, 18+)

first time (smut, 18+)

miscommunication

meddling mia

distant

backseat (smut, 18+)

my tears are becoming a sea

truck

the chase ☆

emergency

Jenna Ortega

more than friends?

stressed

hot tub (smut, 18+)

this is how it feels ☆

amnesia

midnight guest ☆

call your mom (heavy topics, 18+) ☆

paparazzi

Amber Freeman

a drunken kiss

no strings attached...right?

a clingy drunk ☆

moth to a flame

Sam Carpenter

five more minutes

sisters, sisters

[ghostfaceaddams]

MASTERLIST

hello:) welcome to my masterlist 🫶🏻

I write for all of Jen’s characters!

Requests are open.

Tara Carpenter

Tardy - in which an unexpected friendship turns into something more

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Reminder - Tardy Drabble 1

Sweet Nothings - Tardy Drabble 2

Hey Angel - Tardy Drabble 3

Koalas - Tardy Drabble 4

Daydreaming - Tardy Drabble 5

favorite - in which Tara comes over to comfort you

drabble (R is shorter than Tara)

Vada Cavell

Get Lucky - in which vada really wants to get lucky

Party Fun - in which you try and make Vada jealous, things escalate

Writer - in which Vada finds out you write fan fiction

The Other Side Of The Door - in which Vada steps up her game

drabble (Vada and R have a sleepover)

Wednesday Addams

Puppy Love -in which you come up with a ploy to make Wednesday Addams fall for you, it works. Well, it kinda works.

puppy love drabble (reader gets hurt)

Lovesick - in which Wednesday can’t hide the fact she’s in love with you any longer

A Little Scorpion Goes A Long Way - in which you bring back an old friend for your girlfriend

When The Night Falls - in which Wednesday gets an unexpected visit from you

Tranquil - in which Wednesday seeks some lovin’ from you

My hair - in which you braid Wednesday’s hair

drabble (reader can’t braid her hair)

[ghostfaceaddams]

Quinn Bailey Must Die, p5

P1 | P2 | P3 | P4 | P5

summary: Tara deals with the fallout of Sam leaving. all hers universe.

warnings: (+18), Tara is (was) Ghostface, language. Implied sexual content.

pairing: tara carpenter x reader, sam carpenter x quinn bailey

word count: 2.6k

a/n: enjoy babes! let me know your thoughts, as always

The first thing Tara does when Sam closes the door is tighten her shoulders and barge into Sam’s bedroom.

You follow, hastily. 

Watch as she reaches for Sam’s clothing rack and tries to pry the lot off the rack and onto the floor. 

“Tara, stop.” You grab her hand as Sam’s jackets crumple to the ground. 

“Don’t, babe,” Tara says, her voice sharp, “This is all going in the dumpster. Don’t try and stop me.” 

“She’ll be back in a week,” You protest, “She’s going to need this stuff.” 

“I don’t care,” Says Tara, rounding on you, “She can walk around naked for all I care. She’s picking Quinn over me. Her own sister.” 

“Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?” You ask, voice quiet, “We did go behind her back and try to seduce… whatever Quinn is to her. It makes sense she wants space.” 

“She’s done this before,” Tara growls, “When she was fifteen. She picked her deadbeat boyfriend over us. Over me.” 

Before you can stop her she’s pried Sam’s cluster of picture frames off her dresser and into a trash can. 

You sigh. 

And let her tear through Sam’s room like a Doberman off the leash. You’ll fix it yourself tomorrow. 

You sink into Sam’s mattress and watch your girlfriend. 

Her hands are shaky. Her eyes are watering, though you know she’s too proud to let the tears fall in front of you. 

She’s hurting. 

“Why don’t we call Dr Colmann?” You suggest, voice gentle, “She always makes you feel better, babe.” 

“I have to finish this tonight,” Says Tara, “As long as her shit’s in here, I won’t be able to sleep.” 

You bite your lip. 

“Let’s call Dr Colmann,” You suggest, “And if you still want her stuff gone after the call, I’ll help you myself.” 

Dr Colmann had given you her personal number for Tara related emergencies. 

“Tara is a special client,” Dr Colmann had answered after you’d raised an eyebrow, “And I want to make sure you can come to me if you need it.” 

You had never used it. 

Until now. 

“Dr Colmann?” You ask, a little anxious. 

You’d finally convinced Tara to sit, and firmly planted yourself in her lap so she can’t get up and continue her tirade through Sam’s room. 

“We need your help.” 

-

It’s a little after twelve in California, and Dr Colmann looks as if she’s just gotten back from the gym. 

You apologize - taking a work call on a Sunday afternoon seems criminal. Even if it’s your only option. 

But Dr Colmann doesn’t seem to mind.

“What’s going on, Tara?” Asks Dr Colmann, “You seem a little on edge.” 

You rub her back. 

Press the softest of kisses to the side of her head.

“My sister is abandoning me,” Tara says, voice a little fraught. 

“She’s leaving for a week,” You correct, hastily, “We had a small disagreement.” 

“What kind of disagreement?” Dr Colmann asks. 

“That isn’t important,” Says Tara. 

Dr Colmann sighs. 

“I can’t help you if you don’t want to be honest with me Tara.” 

Tara bites her lip. 

“I don’t like the girl she’s seeing,” Says Tara, “It’s the Quinn girl. The one we told you about last month.” 

“The roommate who tried to pursue you?” Asks Dr Colmann, taking notes.

Tara nods. 

“So the fight was about this girl?” Dr Colmann asks. 

Tara hesitates. 

“Kind of,” She says, “I thought… I thought maybe if tried to seduce her, I could show Sam she wasn’t serious about her.” 

Dr Colmann pauses. 

“And do you really think that was the best thing to do, Tara?” She asks, sounding skeptical. 

“I didn’t have a choice,” Says Tara, “She backed me into a corner.” 

Dr Colmann sighs. 

“Tara,” She says, gently, “Have you tried apologizing to your sister?” 

Tara frowns. 

“Apologize?” She asks, as if the word is foreign to her, “For trying to help her?” 

“Tara, trying to seduce the person your sister is interested in, is wrong, regardless of your intentions.” Says Dr Colmann, sternly. 

“And what about her?” Tara asks, heatedly, “It’s okay for Sam to date someone who tried to break up my relationship?” 

“No,” Says Dr Colmann, “If you’re not comfortable with who Sam is seeing, Tara, you should express that to her. In a calm, and non confrontational manner. You can lay out your reasoning and explain why you don’t think her seeing Quinn is a good idea.” 

Dr Colmann hesitates. 

“But, at the end of the day, Tara, you can’t control who Sam sees or who she dates. We’ve talked about this, Tara - you don’t have control over other people’s actions. You need to make peace with that.” 

Tara lets out a discontented grunt. 

You squeeze her shoulders. 

“Start with an apology,” Dr Colmann suggests, “Call Sam and tell her you’d like to apologize in person for your behavior. Start a dialogue, but remember Tara - calm and collected. Telling somebody they can’t do something only leads to them wanting to do it more.”

“Thanks, Dr Colmann,” You say, rubbing Tara’s back, “Should we reach out right away?” 

“It can’t hurt,” Says Dr Colmann, “But she’ll likely need some time. Give it to her. Tell her you’re sorry, and let her come to you.” 

-

Dr Colmann isn’t wrong about Sam needing time. 

She won’t answer Tara’s calls, so Tara texts her. 

“Really sorry, Sam. I don’t know what came over me,” Tara reads from her phone, lip between her teeth, “I just wanted to protect you from her as I think she’s going to hurt you. I crossed the line and I know what I did was wrong. I’m hoping maybe tomorrow we can meet up and I can apologize in person.” 

She looks up at you, a little shy. 

“Is it okay?” She asks. 

You kiss her. 

“It’s perfect,” You assure, “Sam will appreciate it.”

Tara curls into your side, the moment she presses send. 

She’s a little calmer, after the call with Dr Colmann. Sam’s wardrobe hasn’t been touched, and you’d managed to sneak in and replace all the things Tara had ripped down. 

“I hate this,” Tara admits, nuzzling her head into your neck, “I hate feeling powerless.” 

You press a kiss to her forehead.

“Remember what Dr Colmann said,” You say, “You can’t control everything, babe.” 

“Can we watch Alien?” Tara asks, blinking up at you, “It always makes me feel better.”

You kiss her. 

“I will never understand how horror movies calm you down,” You say, with a sigh, “But of course we can.” 

-

Sam doesn’t text back until the morning. 

“Thanks for apologizing, Tara,” Tara reads out, eyebrows crinkled, “I need some time. I’ll be back next week and we can talk.” 

Tara frowns, dropping her phone. 

“It’s not all bad, babe,” You soothe, reaching out to wrap an arm around her, “Dr Colmann said she’d need space.” 

“Yeah,” Tara says, resigned. 

Then, she flops back into the couch. 

“Sam thinks I don’t love her,” She says, after a long moment, “Because I never say it.” 

You tilt your head. 

“Babe.” You say, dropping down to her side. You brush a strand of hair out of her face, 

“I do love her,” Says Tara, sounding unhappy, “But she doesn’t love me. Not the real me.” 

Her eyes are sad, vulnerable. 

You kiss her, deeply. 

“It’s difficult,” You say, choosing your words carefully, “But Sam loves you. For better or for worse. You’re her baby sister.” 

“She left before,” Tara accuses, “She’d do it again. I just know it.” 

“Hey,” You say, pressing your lips to her cheek, “That’s behind you now, remember? We’re in therapy.” 

It doesn’t placate her. 

“How can you love somebody you don’t even know?” She asks, a little mournful. 

“I loved you before I knew,” You say, nudging your nose against hers, “And I love you after. Always.” 

“That’s different,” Says Tara, biting her lip, “You’re in love with me. You’re the exception. Do you really think Chad or Mindy or Liv or Sam would stay around if they knew the truth?” 

“They’ll never know,” You promise, “Baby, I know it’s hard, but you can’t live your life being scared of rejection. Sam loves you. Your friends love you. You’re a different person than you were before. You’re a good friend. And you’ve been holding back from Sam, but I know you’ll be a good sister too. The best sister. Just like you’re the best girlfriend.” 

You kiss her once more. 

“You just have to let yourself be vulnerable,” You say, “Let Sam know you love her. And the rest will fall in place.” 

-

Quinn’s apartment is beautiful. 

High ceilings, expensive artwork, luxury furniture. 

It makes Sam’s head spin. 

“You can be louder, if you want,” Quinn says, biting her lip, only moments after Sam had cum hard with her hand against her mouth, “This place is sound-proofed. Dad made sure when he bought it.” 

“Why did you ever live in that dump with my sister?” Sam wonders, sprawled out across Quinn’s pillows, “This place is great.” 

Quinn laughs, and curls herself into Sam’s side. 

“I was trying to be independent,” She admits, “I was trying not to live off my Dad’s money.” 

Sam tilts her head. 

“Did your Dad invent the toaster or something?” She wonders aloud.

Quinn presses a sly kiss to her lips.

“He’s done well for himself,” She admits, “He’s a detective. A very senior Detective.” 

“And here I was thinking government employees lived paycheck to paycheck.” Sam mumbles. 

“Most do,” Quinn admits, “But like I said - he’s done well for himself.” 

“Do you see him much?” Sam asks. 

Quinn pauses. 

“Not really,” She says, “My brother - he’s the problem child. Dad spends most of his time wrapped up with Ethan.”

“Little brother?” Sam asks, head tilted. Quinn nods. 

“The youngest… they’re always the problem kids.” Sam says, knowing from experience. 

“I know you can’t choose your family,” Says Quinn, “But man, don’t you sometimes wish you could?” 

Sam thinks. 

“I would still choose Tara,” She says, voice a little soft, “She’s a brat, yeah. But it’s only because my parents never taught her how to behave. They failed her. Heck, they failed me too.” 

Quinn smiles.

“That’s sweet,” She says, “I love how you love her. Even after what she tried to do.”

Sam shifts, suddenly uncomfortable. 

“She was just looking out for me,” Sam says, “In her own way. In her Tara way.” 

“She doesn’t need to,” Quinn promises. She leans over and kisses Sam, “I’m crazy about you. You know that.” 

Butterflies bloom in Sam’s stomach. 

“I know it’s only been a couple of weeks,” Quinn says, nudging her nose against Sam’s, “But I’m falling for you. Hard.” 

Sam blinks. 

And the butterflies evaporate. 

Uneasiness replaces them. 

“Quinn,” She says, slowly, “Like you said, it’s only been a couple of weeks-” 

“I know,” Quinn says, rubbing a hand over her hip, “Sorry, I don’t love you or anything. Not yet. I just wanted you to know I’m falling.” 

“Alright,” Sam says, voice even, “I just- it’s not-”

“Stop freaking out,” Quinn says, and kisses her softly, “I only wanted to say I like you. Don’t think so hard, Carpenter.” 

Sam relaxes. 

“I like you, too.” She says. 

And Quinn kisses her. 

-

Sam stays at Quinn’s place longer than a week. 

It’s two weeks at first, then three. 

Quinn’s kisses are ample reason to stay. Tara’s texts, each a little more desperate than the other, remind Sam of why she can’t go back. 

She loves her sister. 

But Sam’s been suffocating her. 

Dinners, breakfasts. She does Tara’s laundry and cleans up after her. Makes her bed. Helps her with homework. 

She’s been trying to replace their mother. 

Sam loves her sister, but a mother she is not. 

Sisters need boundaries. Sam needs boundaries. 

And so she calls Tara to explain. 

“We can talk,” Sam promises over the phone, “Tonight, if you want. I’ll come to the apartment. But Tara, you should know I’m planning on staying with Quinn. It’s better for both of us if I stay with Quinn.” 

“I miss you, Sam,” Tara says, voice unhappy, “I promise I’ll be nicer. I’ve been talking to a therapist, she’s helping me. YN and I won’t even fuck when you’re home - if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Sam bites her lip. 

“That’s - sweet Tara,” Says Sam, “But that isn’t the problem. Not the whole problem. We’re adults now, both of us. Sisters aren’t designed to live together, forever.” 

“Not forever,” Presses Tara, “But for right now? We should be together.” 

Sam sighs. 

Quinn’s pouring her a glass of wine, wearing a particularly low-cut top. 

Sam’s gaze veers down. 

“I’ll speak to you, tonight,” Sam promises, mouth dry, “Love you, T.” 

Tara hesitates. 

“Speak to you, tonight.” She echoes, voice hollow.

-

“Ugh, why do you have to go and speak to your sister?” Quinn murmurs, a little later, when Sam is a sweaty mess under her. 

“Because she’s my sister.” Sam reminds, a little pointed, as she leans up to kiss Quinn.

“She tried to seduce me.” Quinn says, a little sharp, “I think the silent treatment is more than effective, here.” 

“You tried to seduce her first.” Says Sam, retracting herself from Quinn’s grip, “Relax, Quinn. It’s time I patched things up with her.” 

“You’re coming back after, right?” Quinn asks,  little on edge, “You’re not moving back in? Because you can stay here as long as you want.” 

Sam kisses her. 

“I’ll be back,” She promises, “But I need to borrow a jacket. I left mine back at the house.” 

Quinn’s grip is tight. For a moment, Sam wonders if Quinn will let her leave at all. But then she releases her grip on Sam’s waist. 

“Closet,” She says, with a murmur, “You know, you wearing my clothes is kind of hot.” 

Sam kisses her once more. 

Sam rifles through Quinn’s closet, a little mindless. It’s expansive. From denim to leather, seemingly Quinn has it all. Sam works through them all. She settles on a bare-bones black leather jacket that’ll go with her jeans. She pries it off the rack and slips it around her shoulders.

But then, she notices something buried near the bottom of her wardrobe. 

Her brow creases. 

It’s a picture. 

Quinn she recognises - an older man that must be her Dad. A younger guy that must be her brother, Ethan. 

And then she sees him. 

To say the wind is knocked out of her is an understatement. 

She recognises him immediately. Curly brown hair. Piercing blue eyes she stared into hundreds of times. 

Eyes she’d seen flutter closed for the last time. 

It’s Richie. 

Quinn knows Richie. 

Sam panics. 

She stumbles back, takes out Quinn’s mirror in her wake. Her chest heaves. Her eyes prick with tears. 

Out, her mind screams, you need to get out.

But Quinn’s all over her before she gets the chance. 

Sam flinches as Quinn’s arms loop around her waist. She reacts immediately. 

She pries herself out of Quinn’s arms and turns around as if she’s just been burned. 

“Sam?” Quinn asks, looking startled, “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” 

Sam’s eyes are wide. 

Quinn’s eyes flicker down to the bottom of the wardrobe. To Richie. 

Her eyes widen, almost mournful. 

“Oh, Sam,” She says, softy, “I really wish you hadn’t seen that.” 

It happens in a flash. 

One moment Sam is backing up, against the wall. The next, Quinn’s pressing her to it, hand over her mouth. 

“Shh, baby,” Quinn says, as Sam screams, “It’s okay. I can explain everything. But you need to stop screaming. Nobody can hear you now.”

[ghostfaceaddams]

Quinn Bailey Must Die, p4

p1 | p2 | p3 | p4

summary: Tara puts her plan into action. YN loses a bet. all hers universe.

warnings: (+18), Tara is (was) Ghostface, language. Sexual content.

pairing: tara carpenter x reader, sam carpenter x quinn bailey

word count: 2.9k

a/n: ass agenda rise.

Tara’s plan comes to fruition over cups of black coffee, your scrambled eggs and a half-eaten set of Mickey Mouse waffles. 

Mindy’s brow is pinched as she drafts up the first message. 

You’re a little restless, Tara’s hand on your back doing nothing to soothe you. 

“There,” Says Mindy, after a moment, “How’s that?” 

Tara takes back her phone. 

“Hey,” She reads out, “What u up 2?” 

Tara blinks. 

“This is what took you five minutes to draft?” She asks, voice scathing. 

Mindy huffs. 

“No,” She says, “That’s just a primer. You can’t go in all guns blazing, Tara, she’ll get suspicious.” 

Tara rolls her eyes.

“Been thinking about u lately,” Tara continues, “Feels weird how we left things.” 

You clench your jaw. 

Tara rubs your back, absent-mindedly. 

“How r u doing? Sorry when my gf gets crazy like that there’s nothing I can do.” 

You scowl. 

Mindy ducks behind her coffee cup. 

“Mindy, I don’t type like this,” Says Tara, hotly, “Where’s the grammar? This sounds like it was written by a fourteen year old boy.” 

“Fourteen year old boy is Mindy’s spirit animal,” Says Chad with a grin, throwing a blueberry between his lips. 

“Shut up, Chad,” Groans Mindy, “Tara, fine, you can change the grammar. But the rest of it? Does it work?” 

Tara purses her lips. 

“I suppose it’s not terrible.” She offers. 

Mindy smiles. 

“Skip a bit,” She suggests, “Get to the good stuff.” 

Tara scrolls, and reads out the rest of Mindy’s text. 

“I always thought u were sexy,” Tara reads, “You know Ginger Spice was always my favorite spice girl.” 

Tara raises an eyebrow. 

You snort. 

“This is the good stuff?” Chad asks, “Mindy, you could have a billionaire dollars and you still wouldn’t be able to talk a thirty dollar hooker into bed with you. No wonder you can’t get a girlfriend.” 

Tara sniggers. 

Mindy shoots a glare his way. 

“I can too get a girlfriend,” Says Mindy, voice hot, “I just don’t want one right now. Girls are high maintenance, I don’t have time for that.” 

“Amen.” Mumbles Tara. 

You nudge an elbow into her side.

“Ow.” 

“You can not have a girlfriend too, if I’m too high maintenance.” You say, and Tara shakes her head. 

“You’re worth the maintenance baby,” Says Tara, as you dodge her kiss, “You’re like a really nice lawn. No house is complete without it.”

“Romantic.” You deadpan, “How come you’re a house and I’m just a lawn?” 

“You’re a mansion, baby,” Tara assures, “A ten million dollar mansion with an infinity pool.”

Mindy huffs. 

“Can we get back to the mission?” She asks, sounding annoyed, “If you don’t like my pickup lines, you’re welcome to try out your own, Casanova.” 

“I don’t need pickup lines,” Assures Tara, “Isn’t that right, baby? One look and you were smitten.” 

“And one sentence and I have the ick.” You say, crinkling your nose. 

Tara’s smile drops. 

“Babe.” She whines as Mindy snorts. 

“Give it to me,” Chad says, with a sigh, “Apparently I’m the only one around here who can talk to a girl.” 

“‘Wanna come watch me lift weights?’ is not the pick up line you think it is, Chad,” Says Mindy, voice wry, “Besides, it won’t work coming from Tara.” 

“I lift weights,” Tara says, with a frown, “I’m getting super strong, see?” 

She flexes her bicep. 

You roll your eyes. 

Mindy raises an eyebrow.

“You’re like 4’11, Tara,” She says, “I could snap you in half without flinching.” 

“I’m 5’1 and I’ll snap you in half if you don’t stop talking.” Growls Tara. 

“Guys,” Says Liv, flailing her hands, “Stop. Chad’s got it. Show them, babe.” 

Tara takes back her phone, still scowling.

“Can’t stop thinking about you,” She reads, “Should have kissed you. Sorry I didn’t.” 

Mindy tilts her head.

“It works,” She admits. 

“And if she just shows Sam the message?” You ask, “Then what?” 

“She won’t, babe,” Says Tara, squeezing your arm, “Do you even remember how hard she worked for me?” 

You do remember. 

You wish you didn’t. 

Tara presses a quick kiss to your cheek. 

“And besides, if she shows Sam the messages, Sam will know how serious I am about this.” She kisses you, “It’s going to work, babe, I know it.” 

“When are you going to send them?” Asks Liv. 

Tara thinks. 

“When she’s away from Sam,” Says Tara, “Maybe tonight. We’ll rope her into a movie night, right babe? That way we’ll know Quinn’s nowhere near Sam.”

You sigh. 

“Come on,” You say, voice a little glum, “We better head back. With any luck, they’ll be done and she’ll be gone.” 

-

“What’s your favorite breakfast food?” Asks Quinn, head pressed against Sam’s pillow. 

“Eggs,” She answers, “With Arugula, preferably. Maybe a little balsamic vinegar. 

Quinn wrinkles her nose. 

“Most people say pancakes,” She teases, lightly, “Or bacon.” 

Sam frowns. 

“I believe you should only put good things into your body.” She says. 

Quinn smirks.

“Nice to know I’m a good thing, then.” Smiles Quinn. 

Sam’s cheeks turn red. 

“You know what I meant.” She says. 

Quinn leans over and kisses her. 

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” Asks Quinn. 

Sam shrugs. 

“It’s Sunday,” She says, “I was just going to relax.” 

Quinn bites her lip. 

“How about we go and get some Eggs with arugula? My treat.” 

Sam bites her lip. The thought of spending more time with Quinn is surprisingly, not that unpleasant. 

“Alright,” She says, with a smile. Butterflies flutter in her belly, “If it’s your treat.” 

-

“Sam?” Tara calls, as she cracks open the door, as if she’s scared of what’s behind it. 

You press against her back, impatient. 

“Baby, hold up,” She says, gently, “I don’t want you seeing something.” 

“They’re not going to be fucking on the dining table, babe.” You say with a roll of her eyes as you push past her. 

“Someone should.” Says Tara, voice pointed. 

You look around. 

The apartment is quiet. 

Not a peep from Sam’s room. The door is open, the bed messy and unmade. But it's empty. 

Tara drops her bag over the counter. 

She picks up a small, handwritten note. 

“Out for the day, back later.” She reads. 

“With Quinn?” You dare ask. 

But Tara only smiles back at you. 

“Not for much longer,” She says, sounding pleased with herself, “As soon as Sam’s back and out of Quinn’s clutches, I’ll send the texts.” 

She moves forward and loops an arm around your waist. Presses a hot kiss to your next. 

“Now, about that thing you wanted to do this morning,” She says, voice low. 

You cock an eyebrow. 

“I think it’s safe to say the moment has passed.” You say. 

You squeeze her hips.

“But, babe-“ Tara says, with a whine, “You said-“ 

“Another time,” You promise, “Besides, don’t you have a test to study for?”

Tara sighs. 

“I’m majoring in film, babe, I don’t need to study.” 

She looks up, bottom lip in a pout. 

“Why don’t I quiz you?” You suggest, “It’ll be fun.” 

Tara thinks.

“And if I get all the answers right then I get to rail your ass?” 

It earns her a smack. 

“You’re not going anywhere near my ass if that’s what your intention is.” You tell her. 

“I’ll go slow, babe, I promise,” Tara assures, taking your earlobe between her teeth, “I’ll go so slowly you’ll be begging for it by the time I’m done with you.” 

Your stomach flutters.  

“Maybe later tonight,” You think after a moment, “If you nail it.” 

Tara brightens. 

“Not the only thing I’ll be nailing tonight.” She grins. 

“Don’t make me change my mind.” You warn. 

-

Sam comes back mid-quiz. 

Tara hasn’t gotten a single question wrong, and you’re starting to sweat. There’s a hungry look in her eyes, as if she’s hunting down her prey. 

You welcome the distraction. 

“Hi girls,” Sam says, as if nothing in the past twenty-four hours has changed, “Do you want lunch?” 

“We just ate Sam, thanks,” You say, and she hums. 

You catch Tara’s eye. 

“Sounds like you had a good night.” Says Tara, a little snarky. 

Sam sighs. 

“Don’t start, Tara.” She warns. 

Tara folds her arms. 

“Just don’t come crying to us when she breaks your heart.” She says, a little pointed. 

“Tara-” You say, but Sam just rolls her eyes. 

“Noted. What do you want for dinner tonight? Cauliflower tacos or lentil spaghetti?”

Tara wrinkles her nose. 

“Why don’t we make dinner for you, Sam?” You interject, hurriedly, before Tara can speak, “It’s the least we can do. You cook for us every night.” 

Sam blinks, a little surprised. 

And then she smiles. 

“Alright,” She says, sounding happy, “That sounds nice.”

Sam disappears into her room. 

Tara pulls out her phone, giving you a pointed look. 

She taps a few buttons and then smiles, pleased with herself. 

“Operation you-know-who-must-die is in action,” She mumbles, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, “Now finish the quiz. I’m ready to take my prize.” 

-

Tara aces the quiz.

Not a single question wrong. 

In truth, there’s a part of you who had hoped she’d fail. But there’s another part of you positively gleeful she hadn’t. 

Tara kisses you with a victorious grin, and then smacks your ass with her hand. 

“Go get ready for me,” She says, voice low, “I’m all ready for you, baby.” 

“It’s 4PM,” You say, biting you lip, “Maybe we should wait until tonight-” 

Tara groans. 

Your skin feels sensitive, tingly. The anticipation over the last few questions has you in a hot flush. 

It feels exciting. New.

The fact that your girlfriend is preening only adds to the excitement. 

“You promised,” She whines, “Stop moving the goalposts. You want me to beg? I’ll beg. Please, baby, let me fuck your ass-”

“Tara.” Sam groans as she emerges from her room, gym bag in hand, “Boundaries, we talked about this-”

Your face flushes red. 

You’d die on the spot, if the option were possible. But Tara doesn’t miss a beat. 

“I don’t think you can lecture me on boundaries considering the noises that were coming from your room this morning.” Tara says, curling an arm around your waist. 

Sam huffs. 

“I’m going to the gym,” She mumbles, “YN - something healthy for dinner tonight? Please?”

“You got it, Sam,” You mumble, face bright red. 

But Sam is unperturbed. Nothing phases her, at this point. She leaves the apartment with a click of the front door. 

“All alone,” Tara murmurs, looping her arms around your waist and squeezing your ass, hard, “So you can be as loud as you want, baby.” 

You bite your lip. 

“Let me get ready,” You mumble, “Meet you in the bedroom in a bit.” 

-

When you’re showered and ready, you make your way into the bedroom. 

Tara’s already laid out her arsenal. 

Her strap-on, a bottle of lube longer than your forearm and a grin that tells you this almost certainly won’t be the first time she takes you like this. 

You drop your towel. 

And watch Tara’s gaze sink down. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Tara murmurs, as she reaches you out to take her in your arms, “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.” 

She pulls you down for a searing kiss. 

You’re nervous, but she always finds a way to soothe you. Firm hands on your hips, her mouth working wonders against your lips. 

She pulls you on top of her, and then pulls back, nudging her nose against yours. 

“We can stop anytime you want,” She promises, “If it’s too much, just say.” 

She brushes a strand of rogue hair out of your eyes, “I love you, baby,” She whispers against your lips, “I want you like this, but if it hurts too much, just tell me. I won’t be annoyed. Promise.” 

She seals her promise with a kiss. 

You don’t doubt her for a second. 

You capture her lips once more, arousal pooling in your stomach as you feel her against you. 

You’ve denied her before, like this. 

You wanted her to work for this. 

 But in the process, you’ve been denying yourself your own desires. 

You slip your tongue into her mouth, grind down against her, ready to give her everything. 

And then the front door slams open.  

“Tara!” Sam calls, sounding anything but mellowed after her gym session, “Get your ass out here, now.” 

The mood shatters. You pull away from Tara, head turning. 

Sam sounds pissed. 

Tara groans.

“Fuck off, Sam, I’m busy,” She says. She flips you onto your back, nudges herself between your legs.

Sam bangs on the door. 

You almost jump out of your skin. 

“Quinn told me everything,” She says, voice dangerous, “Get out here now or I’m coming in.” 

Tara freezes. 

Your heart jumps. 

Hastily, Tara slides off you. 

She fumbles around for a spare t-shirt and tosses it your way, running a hand through her hair. As if her worst nightmare has just come to realization. 

“Tara!” Sam bangs once more. 

“I’m coming, Jesus, Sam.” Tara says. 

You pull the shirt over your head, fumble around for a pair of sleep shorts. 

By the time Tara opens the door, Sam is standing behind it, red-faced, fury in her eyes. 

She holds up her phone.

Although you’re squinting, you can still make out Tara’s text messages to Quinn. 

“This is next level pathetic, Tara,” Sam says, voice hot, “Even for you.” 

“Sam, I can explain-“ Says Tara. . 

“You don’t need to explain,” Says Sam, “I know exactly what this is. You trying to prove Quinn is using me. But it didn’t work. She showed me the texts. So now what, Tara?” 

“I was just trying to help,” Tara says, voice even. 

Sam scoffs. 

“You were trying to help?” Sam asks, “You can help me by minding your own business and staying out of it.” 

“She’s using you, Sam,” Tara explodes, “It’s obvious to everyone except you. Why can’t you see it?” 

“I don’t care if Quinn’s using me,” Says Sam, “I’m using her too, in my own way. That’s what we all do as people, isn’t it? Use each other? For love, for comfort, for sex? Why do you care so much that it’s her?” 

“Why does it have to be her?” Growls Tara, “We hate her, Sam. We kicked her out of our apartment, for crying out loud. She tried to ruin our relationship-”

“But she didn’t,” Says Sam, eyes wild, “I have nothing, Tara, don’t you understand? Why couldn’t you let me have this?” 

Tara blinks. 

You swing your legs over the bed, move to Tara’s side. 

“We were just trying to protect you, Sam-” You say, voice a little shaky. 

Sam looks over at you. 

“You don’t need to protect me,” She says, “Quinn’s fun. Quinn’s easy. I need a little bit of that in my life.” 

“She’s certainly easy,” Says Tara, folding her arms. 

Sam’s face flashes.

For a moment, you think she might actually hit Tara. 

But then she clenches her jaw, and her shoulders draw. 

“I’m going away for a while,” Says Sam, after a long moment, “I’m going to stay with Quinn. I can’t even - look at you right now, Tara.” 

Tara blinks. 

“I was trying to save you.” Says Tara, “You’re going to punish me for that?” 

“It’s hardly a punishment,” Retorts Sam, “You don’t want me here anyway, you’ve made that much clear. Now you can do whatever you want.” 

“And what about rent?” Asks Tara, voice hot. 

Hurt flashes through Sam’s features. Your breath catches in your throat knowing Tara’s said the wrong thing. Again. 

“Rent?” Sam asks, voice incredulous. 

She scoffs. 

And then turns. 

You and Tara follow her out, a little hasty. Sam returns to her room and pries her suitcase from under her bedframe.

She starts tossing items in as Tara scrambles. 

“No, wait, Sam- that isn’t what I meant,” Says Tara as Sam throws her suitcase onto her bed, “That’s not the most important part of this. YN and I want you to stay. Not just because of rent.” 

Sam offers her a weak smile. 

“You don’t need your big sister cramping your style,” She says, “Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Maybe I should have just got a second job in California and venmoed you the rent.” 

“We’re glad you came, Sam,” You say, a little urgent, “We like living with you. It’s a small apartment, of course we all annoy each other. Tara annoys me everyday. And I annoy her too. That’s just how it is.” 

Sam sighs. 

“That isn’t how it should be,” She says, “I shouldn't be here, God. I shouldn’t be in your space. I should have left you both alone.” 

Tara has a weird look on her face. 

“Sam, don’t leave,” She asks, sounding crestfallen, “Please.” 

“It’s for the best, Tara.” Answers Sam. 

She zips her suitcase closed. 

“If you leave me again, I can’t promise I’ll let you back in.” Tara says. Her eyes are hard, but her voice shakes. 

Sam sighs.

She touches Tara’s shoulders, and then pulls her in for a long hug. 

“I’ll be gone a week or two,” She says, “I’m not abandoning you, Tara. We just need some space from each other right now.” 

“If you leave,” Tara repeats, “You’re not coming back.” 

Sam smiles, a little sad. 

“I won’t be gone long.” She says, “God, Tara, I'm just so mad."

She pauses, a moment.

"But I love you. Always."

Tara's face hardens.

And she doesn’t say it back. 

Sam leaves. 

And you deal with the fallout.

[ghostfaceaddams]

Quinn Bailey Must Die, p3

P1 | P2 | P3

summary: Sam falls, a little harder. Tara formulates a plan. all hers universe.

warnings: (+18), Tara is (was) Ghostface, language. Implied sexual content.

pairing: tara carpenter x reader, sam carpenter x quinn bailey

word count: 4.3k

a/n: enjoy babes! let me know your thoughts, as always

Quinn’s touch scalds. 

She’s all rough hands and wild lips, moving quicker than Sam’s alcohol-addled brain can keep up with. 

Sam remembers moaning. 

She remembers the fascination: soft, warm, wet. 

She remembers Quinn looking over with heady eyes, and pressing the softest kisses to her lips before she drifts off to sleep. 

And she remembers thinking: Tara’s going to kill me. 

-

When Sam wakes, she immediately wishes she hadn’t. 

It's like a knife through the brain. Dry lips, dry throat. Her neck aches, though she isn’t sure why. 

And then she feels a very different ache, somewhere else. 

Her eyes shoot open. 

Memories flood back to her. The night. The wine. Quinn. 

Fuck. 

“Morning, you,” Quinn purrs as she nudges her head between Sam’s legs, “Thought I’d help myself to some breakfast.” 

Sam panics. 

She almost throws Quinn off the bed in her effort to retract, as if Quinn’s touch burns her. 

“Stop.” Sam says, drawing her legs over the bed. 

She stands, and then realizes she’s completely naked. Her cheeks burn, and she hastily reaches for her bathrobe. She tilts it around her body, arms crossed. 

“Don’t get shy on me now, Sam,” Teases Quinn, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen already.” 

“Fuck,” Sam says. She had it right last night: her sister is going to murder her, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Quinn sits up, a little uneasy. 

“Okay,” Says Quinn, slowly, “Now you’re starting to hurt my feelings. What’s wrong? Sam? Talk to me.” 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Sam says, urgently. Her mind is racing faster than she can speak. Panic surges within her chest, revulsion burns deep in her stomach - though, in all fairness, that might be the hangover. She pushes it aside, “God, we shouldn’t have done this-” 

Quinn tilts her head. A flash of hurt flickers through her features. 

“Okay…” Says Quinn, “But we did. And it was amazing. Wasn’t it?” 

It was. 

But that’s neither here nor there. 

“God, Quinn, that’s not the point-” Sam hisses. She touches her head, flinches at the pain coursing through her body, “We shouldn’t have slept together. I’m straight, for god’s sake-” 

“Yeah,” Quinn says, narrowing her eyes, “You looked real straight last night with your fingers inside my-”

“It’s time to go, Quinn,” Sam interjects, “You’ve got to go before Tara sees you-”

“I’m not leaving you like this,” Quinn protests, reaching out to touch Sam’s arms. Sam flinches away. 

“Sam-” 

“Quinn.” 

Quinn blinks.

“Stop it,” Sam snaps, “You need to go. Now. Right now. Get your clothes, you’re leaving.” 

Quinn stares a moment. 

“Fine,” She says, reaching for her shirt. She gets up, completely naked, and Sam averts her gaze. 

Quinn stands for a moment and it looks like she wants to say something. 

But she doesn’t.

Sam’s heart drops as she realizes what’s about to happen. 

Quinn’s going to put on her clothes and go barging into Tara’s room. 

Wave Sam around like a trophy she’s conquered. 

A Carpenter sister, she’d brag, I finally got one. 

Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? 

But she doesn’t.

Quinn pulls her clothes on, eerily silent. 

She leaves with a final mournful look towards Sam, and a quiet shut of the door. 

Sam sighs with relief. 

She drops the robe and heads back to bed and hopes when she wakes, this nightmare will be over. 

-

It isn’t. 

Tara’s looking at her a little funny when Sam finally emerges from her bedroom, near noon. 

You’re sitting next to her, arm looped around her waist. 

“Hey Sam,” You say, tilting your head, “How are you feeling?” 

Sam looks over, a little confused, “How am I feeling?” She asks. 

You tilt your head towards the empty wine bottle on the coffee table. 

“You didn’t drink all that alone, did you?” You ask, question in your voice. Tara narrows her eyes. As if she stares at Sam hard enough, the truth will come spilling from her lips. 

“I feel fine,” Sam lies, “How was your night?” 

“It was a little hard to sleep,” Says Tara, with all the subtlety of a bulldozer, “With all the noise coming from your bedroom.” 

Sam purses her lips. 

“Guess you finally know how it feels, Tara,” Sam says, a little grouchy. 

Tara folds her arms. 

“Who’s the guy?” You ask, tilting your head, “Is he still here?” 

Sam takes a long swig of water. 

“Nope.” Is all she says. 

You hum. 

“It’s just… well, Tara and I- we didn’t think it sounded like there was a guy at all in there,” You say, treading carefully. 

Sam freezes. 

She looks over at you, trying to mask the guilt in her eyes. 

“You think I just masturbated myself to sleep?” She asks, voice wry. 

“Don’t be gross, Sam,” Tara snaps, “We know you were banging a chick. Who was she?” 

“Tara,” You hiss, smacking her, “Subtle. We said subtle.” 

Sam swallows. 

You offer her a kind smile. 

“You can tell us, Sam, there’s no judgment here,” You say, “We think it’s good you’re experimenting with your sexuality, isn’t that right, Tara?” 

Tara looks over at you, aghast, “No,” She says, and then winces as your elbow juts between her rib, “Ow- babe-” 

“It’s just- we wanted to check that person isn’t Quinn Bailey,” You interject, hurriedly, “Because we love you, Sam, and we don’t want her taking advantage of you.” 

Sam sighs, heart in her throat. 

You’ve got her now, she knows. Because who else would it be? 

“Girls,” She tries to steer, “I can look after myself. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“That isn’t a denial,” Tara says, flatly, like she’s caught her, “Sam, please tell me you’re not serious. Please tell me you haven’t completely lost your mind.” 

“Tara, it doesn’t have anything to do with you,” Sam says, “Leave it alone, please?” 

Tara huffs, frustrated. 

“It has everything to do with me,” She says, “Your poor dating choices already got me stabbed once, remember?” 

She lifts up her shirt to punctuate her point. The car from where Richie had stabbed her trawls along her abdomen. 

“I’m not dating Quinn,” Sam says, with a roll of her eyes, “I was feeling lonely last night and I made a mistake. Okay? Happy?”

“No, not happy,” Says Tara, “I want you to cut ties with her, Sam. I want you to tell her you won’t tutor her anymore.” 

Sam grits her teeth. 

“That’s not going to happen, Tara,” Sam says. 

“Make it happen, then Sam,” Tara insists, “I mean it. You’re banned from seeing her.” 

Sam’s eyebrows fly into her hairline. 

You shift, then sigh. 

“I’m banned from seeing her?” Sam asks, lips curled, “Banned?” 

Tara nods. 

“You heard me,” She says. 

Sam refrains from laughing. 

Instead, she reaches into the kitchen cabinet for an aspirin. She retrieves an empty bottle and sighs. 

“I’m going to CVS,” She says, with a mumble.

“Sam,” Tara says, “Promise me.” 

“No, Tara,” Sam says, “Back off, alright? I don’t tell you what to do with your love life. Don’t tell me what to do with mine.” 

She grabs her coat, and slings it over her shoulders.

Tara’s hands ball into a fist. 

“She’s using you. You have to know that, right?” Tara calls as Sam walks out the door, “You’re her consolation prize.” 

Sam slams the door. 

And you round on Tara. 

You smack her, lightly, across the arm. 

“Ow.” 

Tara looks up at you with wide eyes. 

“This is your fault.” You hiss.

“My fault?” She asks, in disbelief, “My fault?” 

“I told you to be nicer to your sister and now look at what you’ve done. You pushed her right into Quinn’s arms!” 

You reach out to smack her again. 

Tara pulls back, outraged. 

“That girl is like a piranha, you said it yourself,” She says, voice hot, “Sam could be a nun and married to Jesus Christ himself and Quinn would have still have her face down in the pews of some church.” 

You blink. 

“Oh,” You say, “Is that right? She’s that irresistible, is she Tara?” 

Tara groans. 

“Don’t turn this on me, baby,” She whines, “I karate-d her for you, remember?” 

You let out a puff of warm air, arms crossed. 

Tara looks over at you, a little helpless. 

“What do we do?” She asks. 

You sigh. 

“I’m not sure we can do anything,” You admit, “Sam already knows everything. And… she’s kind of right, Tara. You can’t ban her from seeing Quinn.”

Tara looks over, a little unhappy. 

“That’s unhelpful, babe,” Tara says, “I need you to go into psycho mode. Like when Quinn was hitting on me.” 

It’s your turn to glare.

“I did not go into psycho mode,” You say, voice hot, “You were the one who put her in a headlock.” 

Tara sits down, shoulders tight. 

“Somehow I don’t think putting her in a headlock is going to keep her away from Sam.” 

You settle down next to her, rub her arm. 

“Look,” You say, with a sigh, “You’re right, Quinn’s using her. And Sam will see that, eventually. She said it herself - it was a mistake. Maybe we don’t have to do anything.” 

Tara huffs. 

“Quinn’s going to hurt her, YN,” She says, “Like Richie did. Sam’s never had a you. Just shit-head boyfriends who break her heart.”

You take her hand. Ignore the inappropriate flutter that settles in your belly at her words.

Tara thinks, hard. 

“We need a plan.” She decides. 

“Tara-” You protest, but Tara jerks away from you, the expression on her face final. 

“Babe, you told me to be nicer to Sam and so I’m doing it,” Tara says, “I’m going to protect her. From that - walking bear trap.” 

“Tara, I meant saying please and thank you,” You say, pointedly, “I meant you not icing her out over stupid arguments.” 

“This is better than that,” Tara insists, “Anyone can say please, only a sister can stop you making the worst decision of your life. Please, babe. We have to do this. For Sam.” 

You sigh. 

Quinn Bailey is a menace. You’ve seen it first hand. And you love Sam. You don’t want to see her hurt anymore than Tara. 

“Fine,” You say, a little reluctantly, “For Sam.” 

Tara presses a quick kiss to your lips and then pulls back, looking determined. 

“Operation Kill Quinn Bailey,” She suggests. 

“No,” You say, “Absolutely not. You’re not-”

“Not for real, babe,” Tara says, “Metaphorically. Operation Metaphorically Kill Quinn Bailey.” 

“It’s a little wordy,” You say, eyeing her. 

Tara thinks a moment. 

“Operation Quinn Bailey Must Die,” She says, finally, “Like that dumb movie you like, babe.” 

“Operation Quinn Bailey Must Die,” You repeat, with a grumble, “How come every movie I like is dumb and every movie you like is a masterpiece?” 

“We can’t all have great taste, babe,” She teases, and then stands up, looking stern. 

“If we have a plan, then we need a team,” She says, whipping out her phone, “I’ll call for backup.”

-

Quinn’s not in the library at eight. 

Sam tilts her head and watches the entrance, frowning slightly. 

They hadn’t spoken - not since that morning, though given their last encounter - it shouldn’t surprise Sam. 

Persistent, is Sam’s view of Quinn, doesn’t give up. Ever. 

And yet here she is sitting in the library alone. 

Sam pulls out her cellphone and calls Quinn’s line. 

It rings once, then twice, before dialing out. 

Sam pinches her eyebrows together. And tries to ignore the sinking pit in the bottom of her stomach. 

She had been kind of mean. She’d all but thrown Quinn out of the house in a panic. 

But before she can marinate on that thought, Quinn’s name is flashing across the screen of her phone. 

“Hello?” Sam answers, far too quickly. 

Quinn’s quiet a moment. 

“Hi, Sam.” She says. 

“Where are you?” Sam asks, checking her watch, “We said eight every night.”

“I figured you didn’t want to see me, anymore,” Says Quinn, “Not after last night.” 

Sam pauses. 

“Last night was…” She hesitates, “A mistake. But it doesn’t have to get in the way of your tutoring.” 

Quinn sighs. 

“I think it already has,” She says, “Bye, Sam.” 

And then she hangs up. 

-

Sam cooks dinner, feeling a little glum. 

Last night had been a mistake. She didn’t expect it to go so far, with Quinn. 

For all accounts - Quinn refusing to tutor with her should be a good thing. 

Right? 

Instead, Sam feels as if she’s just been dumped. 

“Are you alright, Sam?” You ask, leaning over the kitchen counter, “You seem… a little down.” 

“Fine,” Sam answers, transferring the salmon onto the plates, “Could you please get Tara for dinner?” 

Dinner’s awkward. 

Sam knows Tara wants to say something. She’s fizzing in her seat, barely touching her food. Look of contemplation on her face like she wants to say something that might get her in trouble. 

Sam sighs. 

“Tara, just say it,” She says, sounding tired. 

Tara crosses her arms. 

“I think I said all I needed to say this morning.” She says, eyes narrowed.

“Perfect,” Says Sam, “Are you going to eat?” 

Tara thinks. 

“I just want to know, Sam,” She says, “Do you seriously think Quinn slept with you for any other reason than to get back at me?” 

You touch her arm. 

Sam sighs. 

She drops her fork. 

“If you must know, Quinn doesn’t want to see me anymore,” Sam says, with a growl, “Not after I kicked her out this morning. So, I guess you got your wish, Tara.”

Tara blinks. 

You reach out to touch Sam’s hand, “Sam, I’m sorry-”

“It’s fine,” Says Sam, “Can we please just eat and stop talking about Quinn Bailey?” 

“Alright.” Tara says, voice even. 

She tilts her head. 

“This food is… good, Sam.” Tara says, voice a little gruff. 

You side eye her. 

Sam looks up. 

“You haven’t even had a bite.” She says, pointedly. 

Tara scoops up a mouthful of Salmon and chews it, somewhat obnoxiously. 

“Good,” She says, mouth full “Really, good, Sam.” 

You rub her arm. 

Bless her for trying, even if her attempt is a little unnatural. 

But Sam’s in a bad mood, clearly. 

She stands, quite abruptly. 

“I’m just going to eat in my room, I think,” She says, after a moment, her eyes sad, “I’ll see you guys later.”

She takes her plate, and you just watch her go. Shoulders tight, lips pursed. 

You sigh as Sam quietly shuts the door, rubbing your eyes. 

But Tara looks pleased. 

“Operation Quinn Bailey Must Die is a success,” She says, happily when you shoot a look over at her, “Don’t give me that look, babe, you know you’re happy too.” 

You consider this. 

Quinn cutting ties with Sam is probably the best of all the outcomes, regardless of Sam’s mood. 

“I suppose,” You say, and bite your lip, “Be extra nice to Sam this week, okay babe? Why don’t we cook for her tomorrow night? Make her feel special.” 

Tara nods. 

“Alright babe,” She says, pressing a kiss to your lips, “Anything for you.”

She thinks for a moment. 

“And for Sam.” 

-

Sam toils overnight. 

Sleep doesn’t come easily, tossing and turning and throwing pillows against the wall in her frustration. 

Near three, she picks up her phone. 

Sam doesn’t know if it’s the lack of sleep, or the burning sadness in the pit of her stomach - but whatever it is, dials for her. 

“Sam?” Quinn asks, a little groggy, “Are you okay?” 

She shifts, and Sam just blinks into the darkness. 

“Sam, it’s three AM, what’s wrong?” Asks Quinn, with a little more urgency. 

“I-“ Sam says, and she pinches her eyebrows together, “Sorry. Nothing's wrong. I just… wanted to talk to you.” 

“Okay,” Says Quinn slowly, “About tutoring? Because, Sam-“ 

“Not about tutoring,” Sam says, “About… the other thing.” 

Quinn pauses. 

“The sex thing?” She asks. 

“Were you sleeping with me because you couldn’t have my sister?” Sam asks, unable to keep the thought to herself any longer.

Quinn huffs. 

“Fuck you, Sam,” She says, “Fuck you.” 

“That’s not an answer,” Says Sam. Her nails dig into the skin of her thighs, a little fearful of the answer. 

“No,” Says Quinn, “I wasn’t sleeping with you because I couldn’t have Tara. Happy?”

Sam blinks.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” She says, swallowing. 

“Then don’t believe me,” Says Quinn, voice flat, “It’s not like we’ll see each other anymore anyway. Goodnight Sam-“ 

“Don’t hang up,” Sam whispers. 

Quinn pauses. 

Sam closes her eyes, the blood rushing to her ears. 

Quinn is a question mark. But Sam’s lonely and sad and she knows there’s only one thing that will get her to sleep tonight. 

“Would you come over?” 

-

You wake up to Tara between your legs, smiling down at you devilishly. 

“Morning baby,” She says, smile wry, “I dreamt about you.” 

You sigh as Tara presses her lips to your neck, her hands moving down to run down the length of your thighs.

“And what was I doing in this dream?” You ask, voice husky. 

Tara smirks. 

“You were on your hands and knees,” Says Tara, “Which is where you’ll be in about thirty seconds-“ 

Your stomach flips. Your mouth falls open. 

Tara smiles, and  takes your stunned silence as an opportunity to pull your sleep shorts down your legs. 

Arousal floods through you. 

You take her lips in a searing kiss, pulling her shirt over her head. 

And then you hear a moan. 

You pause, retracting from Tara, slightly. 

She’s confused too, tilts her head to figure out if she’s heard wrong. 

But then you hear another moan. 

This is a moan you know. 

One you’ve had the unfortunate experience of hearing before. 

It’s Quinn Bailey. 

“Motherfucker.” Tara swears, and her attention is no longer on you. 

She grabs her shirt, cheeks flushed in anger as she climbs out of bed. 

This time it’s Sam who moans. 

You groan, falling back into the bed. 

“How has this happened?” Tara asks, running a hand through her messy hair, “We go to sleep and Sam’s done with her, and then we wake up and Sam’s doing her.” 

“Let’s not overreact-” You attempt, but Tara huffs, shaking her head and pacing up and down your tiny room. 

“Relax, baby,” You say, trying to pull her back down. She’s glaring at the wall between the bedrooms as if it might melt. Potentially take Quinn in the process. 

“Why don’t we go to brunch?” You suggest, biting your lip, “We can go to that little place that does the Mickey Mouse waffles you like.”  

“Now is not the time for brunch,” Tara growls, “I’m going to go downstairs and pull the fire alarm.” 

“That’s illegal,” You say, holding her arm to stop her standing, “Not to mention ridiculous. You can’t stop Sam having sex, Tara.” 

“I don’t care about Sam having sex, babe, I care that’s it with Quinn.” 

She looks over at you, a little helpless. 

“What do we do?” 

Sam moans from the next room. Quinn grunts. Your bedroom table shakes, slightly. Tara looks as though she might punch a hole in the wall and drag Quinn through by her hair. 

You rub her back. 

“Come on, don’t stress about it,” You say, pressing a kiss to her cheek. And then you think. 

“Why don’t we do that thing you’ve been wanting to do?” You suggest, biting your lip. 

You had been saving it for a special occasion. 

But right now it’s the only thing you can think of to take Tara’s mind off Quinn and Sam. 

Tara shakes you off, looking stressed. 

“Babe, you want me to fuck you in the ass while my sister is getting nailed by Quinn Bailey in the next room?” She asks, agitated. 

You sigh. 

“I suppose not,” You mumble. And then you stand. 

“Come on, Operation Quinn Bailey Must Die is back on,” You say with a grumble as a particularly loud chorus of moans sounds from Sam’s room, “Let’s rally the troops. They’ll be done when we get back. Surely.” 

-

“You told her to what?” Tara hisses, across the table of the diner you’re all crammed around. Her Mickey Mouse waffles remain untouched. 

You have a hand on the small of her back, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. 

And so far it isn’t working. 

Mindy, Liv and Chad are here to help enact her operation. 

The ‘Ghostface Hunters’, Mindy had called you. 

The ‘Quinn Killers’ Tara had corrected. 

“You told her to sleep with Quinn?” Tara says, aghast. 

Mindy huffs. 

“I didn’t think she’d actually do it,” Groans Mindy, “I thought Sam was strictly dickly.” 

“Never underestimate the charms of beautiful woman,” Says Liv, quite seriously and Chad nods, “If I didn’t have Chad, I’d probably sleep with her too.” 

Chad smiles, as if the thought is appealing to him. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Why is everyone going goo-goo-ga-ga for her, she’s not even that pretty,” You huff. 

“It’s not about being pretty, YN,” Says Mindy, with a shrug, “It’s a confidence thing. Women like  being pursued. Quinn’s good at pursuing. The world’s her oyster.” 

“Back to Sam,” You say with a huff, “What’s the plan? We need her to know Quinn is using her.” 

“Why don’t we just tell her?” Asks Chad, looking confused. 

Tara huffs. 

“Thanks genius,” She says, “We already tried that, obviously.” 

“We could plant drugs in her backpack to get her kicked out of NYU.” Suggests Liv, happily, “Chad knows a guy.” 

“Let’s try to keep things legal.” You intervene, hastily. 

Chad furrows his brow. 

“If it’s Tara she wants, why don’t we just give it to her?” He says, after a long moment. 

You blink. 

Bile rises from your stomach and settles in the back of your throat.

“Excuse me?” You ask, voice a little hot. 

“It’s not a terrible idea,” Says Mindy, “We know Quinn wants Tara, right? And that’s the only reason she’s going for Sam?”

Chad and Liv both nod. 

You cross your arms. 

“Yeah, so? She’s not getting Tara.” You say with a bite. 

Mindy rolls her eyes. 

“And she won’t YN, relax.” Mindy says, “But if she thinks she might have a shot with Tara- then boom! We send her a few flirty text messages, get her to agree to send some back and send the evidence to Sam.”

Tara thinks. 

“Isn’t that a bit mean-spirited?” You ask. The thought of your girlfriend sending sexy texts to anyone who isn’t you has you feeling like you want to punch something, “If Sam actually likes this girl, she’s going to be heartbroken.” 

“Better her be heartbroken now than before she has time to actually fall for Quinn,” Mindy says with a shrug, “What do you say?” 

Tara looks over at you. 

“It’s not the worst idea, babe,” She says, with a murmur, “I mean, if it proves to Sam Quinn isn’t serious about her, what can it hurt?” 

“I don’t want you sending nudes to other girls,” You say, voice tight, “I don’t care if it isn’t real.” 

“Not nudes, babe,” Tara assures, “Just messages. Mindy can send them from my phone. That way it isn’t even me.” 

The group is looking at you, a little expectant. 

“Maybe we should revisit the drugs.” You say, trying to quell the raging tide of fire within your chest. 

Tara kisses you. 

“You asked me to look out for Sam,” She says, “This is me doing it. This is me protecting my sister.” 

Her eyes are wide, like the chocolate buttons scattered across her Mickey Mouse waffles. 

“Please?” She asks. 

You sigh. 

“Fine,” You agree, but you’re not overly happy about it, “Mindy sends them. I don’t want you talking to her.” 

“Deal,” Says Tara, and she seals it with a kiss, “We’re going to get rid of this sex-pest once and for all.” 

“Should we do it now?” Asks Chad, “While Sam’s still with her? With any luck, she’ll see the message.” 

“No,” Says Mindy, “It’s too obvious. We need her alone. If Quinn knows Sam’s around she won’t bite.” 

“She’ll bite,” Liv promises, “Tara is hot.”

It’s Tara’s turn to rub your back. 

You shoot a deathly glare to Liv. 

“To gay girls,” Liv clarifies quickly, “She’s hot to girls who are into that.” 

“This will be good, babe,” Tara says, pressing her lips to the shell of your ear, “For Sam. This will be good for Sam.” 

-

When Quinn’s finally done with her, Sam is a sweating, heaving mess. 

Her body aches, pleasantly. Quinn nestles into her side, tugs Sam’s comforter around both of their bodies. And then presses a lingering kiss to her neck. 

“Is this going to be us?” Quinn asks, voice a tease, “I’m your midnight booty call?” 

Sam hesitates. 

“Sorry,” She says, “I’ve never done this before. Not with a girl.” 

Quinn’s lips purse. 

“Me neither,” She assures, voice soft, “But I think we’re getting the hang of it.” 

Sam hums. 

“My sister thinks you’re using me.” She says.

Quinn sighs. 

“I know,” She says, “I know she’s your sister and all, but I think she thinks a little too highly of herself.” 

Quinn looks up at Sam, blue eyes wide. 

“I fuck a lot of guys,” She says, voice soft, “But I don’t often fuck them twice.” 

She lets it hang. 

Sam frowns. 

“I don’t know what that means.” Sam admits. 

Quinn laughs. 

“It means you must be special,” Quinn says, “Tara? I would have slept with her once.” 

Sam crinkles her nose. 

Quinn grips her hips. 

“I would have slept with her once and then dodged her calls,” Says Quinn, “Because she didn’t mean anything to me. None of them mean anything to me.”

“But I do?” Sam asks, voice skeptical. 

Quinn smiles. 

“You do,” She says. She leans up, takes Sam’s lips in a soft kiss, “I promise.” 

Sam isn’t sure. 

This is all new to her; the girl, the girl-sex, the fact that this girl wanted her sister before she ever laid eyes on Sam. 

But Quinn’s eyes are round, her grip on Sam is tight. 

Her words sound honest. 

It’s been so long since Sam’s had someone be honest with her. 

And so Sam closes her eyes. 

And lets Quinn encompass her.

[ghostfaceaddams]

Quinn Bailey Must Die, p2

P1 | P2 | P3

summary: Quinn Bailey continues her quest to conquer the Carpenter sisters. Well, one of them, at least. all hers universe.

warnings: (+18), Tara is (was) Ghostface, language. Implied sexual content.

pairing: tara carpenter x reader, sam carpenter x quinn bailey

word count: 6.1k

a/n: set in the all hers universe, sequel to the first. wanted to try something a lil different - this is mostly from Sam's POV. There will be at least one other part after this one. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts!

Sam’s bed is shaking when she wakes. 

She has a fan plugged into the wall. Military grade earplugs. A white noise machine. 

And yet, every morning, she wakes to the sound of a squeaking mattress and you moaning like you’re on a casting couch for a bad 60s porno. 

Aggravated, she sits up. Launches a pillow at the wall in the hope it will quell your happy groans. 

It doesn’t. 

“Tara, YN!” She yells, more than fed up, “Shut up! Shut the fuck up.”

You hear Tara groan through the walls. A quiet shush. The bed stops shaking. Sam slumps back into her pillows, content. 

Tara has never cared, but at least you can be shamed into silence. 

She closes her eyes, snuggles back into her pillows for a couple more hours of precious sleep. 

A few minutes go by, and just as Sam is on the cusp of unconsciousness, she hears you let out another, loud moan. 

“Oh, Tara-” 

Sam sits up. 

Fuck this, she thinks as she grouchily shimmies back into an old hoodie, I’ll sleep outside. 

-

When Sam returns to the kitchen - after seventy minutes of tossing and turning with a pillow and a blanket in the apartment hallway - Tara has the audacity to look pleased with herself. 

She’s wearing one of your old t-shirts, absent-mindedly stroking your hair as she sips on a cup of coffee. As if her bedroom activities hadn’t driven Sam out of hers. 

Sam is fuming. Her cheeks are red as she slams her bedding onto the couch. 

You turn at the same time Tara does. 

“What’s up, Sam?” Asks Tara, like she doesn’t know the answer, “You look like you’ve just been dragged through a bush backwards.” 

“You know what’s up,” Sam growls. She snatches a mug from the kitchen counter and pours herself a healthy helping of coffee, “How many times do I have to tell you-“ 

“Relax, Sam,” Tara says with a roll of her eyes, “We didn’t realize you were awake. We’re sorry-“

“I wasn’t awake until you woke me,” Sam says, jabbing a finger towards her nonplussed sister, “This is ridiculous. It’s the third time this week. If you two can’t respect my boundaries-” 

Your face is a little hot. You shoot an apologetic look towards Sam, “We’re sorry, Sam,” You say, “We get… carried away sometimes.” 

But Tara looks annoyed. 

“This is our home,” Says Tara, “If we want to fuck, we will. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to-”

Sam slams her hand to the counter, making you jump. 

“You asked me to come here,” She growls. She looks a little wild; red cheek, hair messy and ruffled, dark, tired eyes, “You asked me to pitch in. If you want me to go, I’m taking my share of the rent with me.” 

Tara crosses her arms, unhappily. 

“I’m doing the two of you a favor by being here. You think I can afford to pay New York City rent and California rent? The least you can do is not have loud sex at six AM-” Continues Sam, voice strained. 

“You’re right, we’re sorry, Sam,” You interject, eyebrows pinched, “Right, babe? We’ll be quieter.” 

Tara’s quiet for a moment, but Sam knows her sister. She knows the things Tara’s thinking in her head, and none of them are favorable. 

“I have a life back in California,” Sam warns, “If you want me to go, I’ll go. But I’m taking my money with me.” 

Tara’s brows knit. 

“We don’t want that,” You say, quickly, “We’re very grateful you decided to help us out. Right, Tara?”

“Very grateful,” Tara says, voice tight, “Sorry, Sam.” 

She pauses a moment. 

“Babe, you’ve got the ad up, right?” 

Sam ignores the spark of annoyance that floods through her and grabs her lunch.

She sighs right before she heads out. Decides she doesn't want to start her day swimming in negativity. 

“Bye, YN. Love you, Tara.” 

“Bye Sam,” You say, with a small smile, “Have a good day.”

Sam waits a moment.

“Bye, Tara.” She says, once more. 

Tara rolls her eyes, “Bye Sam. What, you need me to walk you out or something?” 

Sam just sighs and leaves. 

-

Sam has a new job at NYU. 

A job she loves. 

Her life so far? Deadbeat father, emotionally absent mother. A murderous psychopath as a biological father. A murderous psychopath as an ex-boyfriend. 

It hasn’t panned out the way she was hoping. 

Nowadays, there’s only two bright sparks in her life. 

Her baby sister, and her job. 

What more could a girl need? 

She’s working in the history department, a subject she’s always been good at. Tutoring students who apparently don’t share her prowess for the past. 

Her first assignment is a nineteen year old boy with straight D grades. Her second is a girl who point blank asks if “the Nazis won the Korean War?” 

Her third strolls into the library now. 

Doesn’t bother to introduce herself. She walks in like she owns the place. Settles herself next to Sam with a coy look in her eye and flutter of her eyelashes. 

“Hi,” Says the girl, with a coy smile. A smile that is far too friendly for discussing the Yom Kippur war. 

Sam blinks.

“Hi,” She says, a little taken aback. She gets ahold of herself, “I’m Sam. I’ll be your tutor for the next semester.” 

This girl has long, flowing strawberry-blonde hair. Piercing blue eyes. She’s wearing a shirt that rides up over her belly button and a pair of pants that are so tight they look as if they were painted on. 

The girl watches for a moment. Surveys Sam - like a hungry wolf might appraise a rabbit. 

And then she grins. 

“We actually know each other,” Says the girl, “At least - we know of each other.”

Sam tilts her head. 

“Oh?” 

“I know your sister,” Says the girl, and her smile turns sheepish, “I used to live with her. Before she kicked me out.” 

Sam blinks. 

“You’re Quinn Bailey,” Sam realizes with a start. 

Quinn’s cheeks pinch in a tight smile. 

“Guilty,” She says with a nervous laugh, “Sorry. This is awkward. I didn’t know the school was going to pair me with you. I mean - I didn’t even know you worked here.” 

Sam leans back a little, suddenly on guard. 

“It’s fine,” She says, “I’ll ask you to be assigned to another tutor.” 

Quinn squints. 

“Actually, you can’t,” Says Quinn, sounding apologetic, “There’s only two history tutors - I checked. The other guy’s out for the next two weeks.” She leans in close, eyebrows in her hairline, “Mono.” 

She pauses. 

“Sorry, this must be awkward for you. But I really do need help. My first paper is due next Thursday.” 

Sam sighs.

“Look, Quinn,” She says, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea after you-“ 

“Threw myself at your sister?” Quinn finishes. Her face is tight - she looks a little embarrassed, “I get it. I do. But you’re the only one who can help me.” 

Sam tilts her head.

Quinn reaches over, takes Sam’s hand. 

“Please.” 

Clearly, it’s been too long since Sam felt the warmth of human touch. Because Quinn’s hand on hers ignites a spark that sends shockwaves through her body. 

You need a boyfriend, she thinks momentarily, badly. 

Sam retracts her hand, squinting slightly. 

And remembers the horror stories Tara had bellowed down the phone line. 

“Those girls are very special to me,” She says, “What you tried to do? It’s despicable.” 

Quinn looks dismayed as Sam stands. 

“Sorry,” Sam says as she straps her back over her shoulder, “You’ll have to find someone else.” 

-

Tara’s in a mood when Sam gets home that night. 

She orders takeout, instead of eating Sam’s meticulously planned, healthy vegan curry. She ignores Sam’s attempts at conversation, and turns the TV a little louder when Sam tries to offer her dessert. 

Sam gives up, not long after. 

She eats dinner by herself, trying not to let her mind drift to Quinn. 

“Please,” She’d murmured, “I really need your help.” 

Weird, she thinks. Quinn’s touch had imprinted on her mind all night. For such a devilish, evil, homewrecker - she’d seemed kind of sweet. Hopeless, almost. 

Like a lost little child, adorned in red lipstick and Michael Kors. 

But then she remembers her sister. 

You arrive home, not long after Sam’s finishing her plate, batting Quinn’s easy smile out of her brain. 

You press a kiss to Tara’s forehead, offer Sam a small smile. 

And then you throw your bag down to the floor and disappear into your bedroom. 

“Good day, Sam?” You ask when you emerge, towel over your shoulders. 

Sam hums. 

“Weird day,” She admits. She shakes her head as she catches your questioning stare, “Nevermind.” 

You watch her a moment, and then reach down to squeeze Tara’s shoulders. 

“I’m taking a shower. Pick a movie for us?” You say with a quick kiss to her cheek. 

“Sure, babe,” Tara says. 

And then she sits up long enough to shoot a glare over at Sam. 

“Just be careful not to shower too loudly,” Tara says, “We wouldn’t want to interrupt Sam’s precious relaxation time. Who knows? She might threaten to not pay the water bill next time.” 

Irritation flashes through Sam, hot and fast.  

She’d been up at six AM again. Her sister is the culprit. And somehow she’s the bad guy? 

“Stop being a brat, Tara,” Sam says, voice tight, “You’ll be twenty next year, you better start acting like it.” 

“And is that when I’ll be as demanding and bitchy and sexless as you?” Tara deadpans. 

Sam lets her cutlery clatter over her plate. Rage simmers in the pit of her stomach that begs to be unleashed. Primarily on her ungrateful shit-head of a sister. 

I move across the country to bail you out, she wants to scream, and you can’t even be hospitable? 

But you get there first. 

“Stop it.” You say, pulling the remote from her hand, and tugging her up, “You are being a brat. Apologize to Sam and go to bed.” 

Tara glares up at you. 

“But babe-“ 

“Now,” You warn, “Or it’ll be your turn to sleep in the hall.” 

Tara’s face clouds over. 

It’s a familiar look to Sam. 

It’s the one she used to give to their Father. Right after she’d choked Sam, or punched her, or pulled her hair.

Her fake apology face.

“Sorry Sam,” She mumbles, as she stands, looking anything but, “Try earplugs next time, maybe.”

“Bed.” You say, “Now.” 

Tara storms off to bed, shooting a withering glare over to Sam as she leaves. 

Sam’s lips twitch. 

She’s used to this - Tara taking her anger out on her. She’s done their whole lives. 

It doesn’t mean it hurts any less. 

You sigh, throwing your towel over one of the dining chairs. 

“Sorry,” You say, “You know what she’s like sometimes.” 

“That therapy is really working wonders, huh?” Asks Sam, a little sarcastic. Her hands are shaking, a little. 

You bite your lip, sinking into the seat opposite her.

“Good days and bad days,” You say, “Dr Colmann says miracles aren’t going to happen overnight.” 

“That girl needs a miracle.” Sam says, a little frosty. Then, she softens, “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m not trying to put you in the middle.” 

“It’s fine, Sam,” You say, “I know she can be a handful. We’re talking about all the stuff she used to do as a kid in therapy.” 

Sam snorts. 

“You mean like when she cut off all the heads of my teddy bears because I wouldn’t let her blow out the candles on my birthday cake?” 

You blink, a little taken aback. 

“No,” You say, slowly, “She kept that one quiet.”

“You better not be talking about me.” Tara’s voice sounds down the hall, hot and angry. 

You look from Sam long enough to shoot a glare down the hall, “And you better be in bed. I mean it, Tara. I’ll be there in five.” 

Tara huffs, but retreats, nonetheless.

You look back over to Sam, who has a contemplative look on her face. 

“I met Quinn Bailey today,” She says. 

You stare. 

“Why?” Is what you ask, and then you frown, “She’s not trying to worm her way back in here, is she? Because that’s not happening.” 

“The only thing she’s trying to worm her way into is an A+ on her history paper,” Sam says, “I told her to forget it.” 

You’re quiet a moment, and then you nod. 

“Thanks Sam,” You say, “Can you do that? Send her away? Isn’t it your job?” 

Sam shrugs. 

“I don’t know,” She admits, honestly, “I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.” 

-

“You can’t turn her away Sam, it’s your job.” Says Sam’s supervisor, sternly, in the morning, “The poor girl was in here in tears last night. There’s no one else.” 

Sam pauses. 

“It’s just-“ She tries, “She has a complicated relationship with my sister and her girlfriend. They used to be roommates. She made some unwanted advances and they kicked her out. I can’t tutor her. It’s a conflict of interest.”

Her supervisor smiles, a little passive aggressive. 

“Spend less time worrying about conflicts of interest Sam,” He tells her, “And more time teaching them”. 

He punctuates his point by tapping down on a book about Palestine. 

And Sam sighs. 

-

“I could just quit,” Sam says later, over a sad looking salad in the cafeteria with Mindy, “I mean, I only took this job because Tara asked me to help out with rent for a bit.” 

Mindy looks over, eyebrows raised.

“Doesn’t quitting your job defeat the purpose of helping Tara with rent?” She asks.

Sam bites her lip. 

“I suppose…” She admits, “Though it wouldn’t be too hard to get a new one. It’s not like the pay is that great, anyway.” 

“I thought you loved your new job,” Says Mindy, “You were saying only last week how good it feels to finally have something fulfilling in your life.” 

“It’s just a job, at the end of the day, Mindy,” Says Sam. She ponders this over a mouthful of lettuce, “Besides, Tara is my sister. She comes first.” 

Mindy purses her lips. 

“And you think she would do the same for you?” Asks Mindy, after a moment, “Quit her job for you? Fly across the country and move into your apartment to bail her out?” 

Sam straightens her shoulders. 

“I’d like to think so,” She says, somewhat defensively.

Even if she doesn’t believe it. 

Mindy shakes her head with a sigh. 

“She won’t even stop banging her girl at six AM for you,” Mindy says, “She won’t even let you get a decent night’s sleep.”

“They’ve said they’ll be quieter.” Sam says, softly. 

Mindy shoots her a look. 

“And how many times have they told you that?” She asks. 

Sam averts her gaze. 

Too many times to count. 

“Don’t do her any favors, Sam.” 

Sam stares. 

“And I thought she was supposed to be your friend?” Sam asks, somewhat pointedly. 

“She is,” Says Mindy, “She’s my friend. And I love her. But she’s selfish as fuck, Sam. You know that. You’re related to that. You’re already being a good big sister. But you don’t have to give up everything for her, Sam. Do something for yourself for once.” 

“And Quinn Bailey is me doing something for myself?” Sam asks, eyebrows raised. 

“If she lets you keep the job you love, sure.” Says Mindy, “Tara will get over it. Besides, you’re only tutoring the girl. What’s the worst that can happen?” 

Sam chews her lip. 

And considers it. 

-

“I’ll help you,” She tells Quinn, a little later over the phone, “Despite my better judgment, I’ll help you.” 

Quinn lets out a breathy sigh, “Oh, Sam - thank you so much-“ 

“I’m not doing it for you,” Sam says, voice stern, “And we’re not friends. I don’t want you coming to the apartment and upsetting my sister and her girlfriend. We’ll meet at the library, every evening around eight. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Quinn agrees, before she hesitates, “It’s not about Tara, Sam, I really just need the help.” 

Sam hums. 

“See you tonight.” 

-

“You’re meeting who at the library?” Tara explodes over the dinner table. 

Sam sighs. Helps herself to more potatoes. 

“I don’t have a choice, Tara,” She says, “It’s my job.” 

But Tara’s eyes are wide as if Sam has betrayed her. 

This is how Tara works. Black and white, no shades of gray. 

Mindy’s words echo through Sam’s head.

Don’t do her any favors, Sam. 

You touch Tara’s arm. 

“It’s alright, Sam, we know,” You say, voice gentle. 

“Are you doing this to punish me?” Tara asks, eyebrows knit, “You don’t like us fucking loudly and so for revenge you’re going to tutor the girl who tried to destroy our relationship?” 

“I need the money, Tara,” Sam says, voice tired, “If I lose this job I won’t be able to chip in for rent.” 

“So get a new job,” Tara says, immediately, as if it’s a perfectly reasonable request. 

“I like my job.” Says Sam, “I’m not getting a new one.” 

Tara splutters. She looks over to you, wide-eyed, “And you’re okay with this?” She asks, in disbelief. 

“Tara,” You say, knitting your brows, “It’s not our decision-” 

“Like hell, it’s not,” Says Tara, “You’re my sister. You’re supposed to be on my side.” 

“There are no sides, Tara.” Sam says, “This isn’t world war three - as much as you’d like it to be. I’m helping her out because I’ll get fired if I don’t. I’ve already told her she’s not coming to the apartment. You won’t have to see her. If she tries anything, I’ll shut it down. Alright?”

You touch Tara’s back. 

“It’s fine, Sam,” You say, quietly, “Baby, it’s okay. We’re not seeing her again.” 

“Yeah, right.” Tara scoffs, “Please. This is just another one of her ploys.” 

She looks over at Sam. 

“She tried to steal me, Sam, we told you that, right?” She says, sounding scandalized. 

Sam rolls her eyes. 

“Yes, you told me that,” Says Sam, “And it didn’t count for shit because you’re a loyal girlfriend and your head couldn’t be turned. Right?” 

Tara thinks. She blinks as if her brain is short-circuiting. 

“Right.” She says, voice slow. 

“Perfect,” Sam says, voice dry, as she stands, “Look, Tara, please don’t be mad at me. You know I wouldn’t see her if I had the choice.” 

Tara folds her arms. 

Sam sighs. 

She leans down to press a kiss to the top of Tara’s head. 

But Tara jerks away. 

“Go, Sam, you’re going to do what you want anyway." She says, sounding surly. 

Sam slips her bag over her shoulder. 

“Bye, girls.” She says, a little dejected, “Love you.” 

But it falls on deaf ears.  

-

You and Tara are arguing when Sam leaves. 

“Why do you care so much, Tara?” You ask, voice hot, “You’re scared she’ll try to kiss you again and you won’t be able to resist?” 

“Baby, that’s ridiculous.” Tara says, outraged, “I don’t want to see her again because she upsets you.” 

Sam sighs, and clicks the door closed. 

The sound of both your voices echoing down the hall. 

Your neighbors must hate you. 

When Sam arrives in the library, Quinn’s already there.

“Hey,” She says, voice bright, and then pauses, “Thanks for coming.” 

“It’s my job,” Sam reminds her, voice a little tight. 

“Well, regardless, thanks.” Says Quinn. 

She sets her books down, slips into the seat next to Sam, wide-eyed and eager. Sam appraises her. 

She’s dressed a little inappropriately for a library study session. 

Short skirt, crop top. Her hair in pigtails, face flush with eyeliner and blush. 

Sam ignores the flutter that settles in her belly and pulls up a chair. 

“Was YN mad you decided to tutor me?” Is her first question. 

Sam opens her book, and points to the first sentence. 

“We’re not talking about them,” She says. 

Quinn chews her lips. 

“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” Quinn says, “You seem really nice, Sam, you don’t deserve that.” 

“Quinn.” Sam says, a little on edge. 

Like she’s starting to think this is a mistake. 

“Sorry,” Says Quinn, settling onto her elbows, “You’re right. Let’s not talk about them. Tell me all about the Yom Kippur War.” 

And Sam does. 

It’s a little difficult. 

Much more difficult than teaching her other students. Quinn doesn’t take her eyes off her. She plays with her hair, bats her eyelids, licks her lips. 

Sam clears her throat, starting to feel like prey. 

But then Quinn changes the topic. 

“I hope you’re ready to be the most consistent person in my life, Sam,” She says, blowing her hair out of her eyes, “Every night. I think if you were to define my dating life, comedy would be the word that springs to mind.” 

Sam raises her eyebrows. 

“Mine too,” She mumbles. 

Quinn rolls her eyes and sighs. 

“Tell me about it. I always pick the wrong guy,” Says Quinn, sounding a little frustrated, “Or girl most recently. Always the emotionally unavailable ones - or the physically unavailable ones. I think there's something wrong with me. Like a romance disease.” 

Sam cracks a smile. 

“I think we’ve got the same illness,” She teases, “I have a similar track record.” 

Quinn sits a little straighter. 

“Oh, yeah?” She asks, “Like who?”

Flashes of Richie blindsight Sam. His smile. His laugh. They way he’d kissed her.

The way he’d lied to her. 

Tried to literally murder her sister. 

Sam swallows, bad taste suddenly filling her mouth. 

“No-one,” She says, hurriedly, “Just a bad ex-boyfriend.” 

Quinn nods. 

“I have a few of those,” She says, and then she bites her lip. 

Sam reverts to feeling like prey. Something weird simmers in the depths of her belly as she meets Quinn’s piercing gaze. 

“Have you only had boyfriends?” Quinn enquiries suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere.  

Sam’s eyes flicker up. 

“Enough about boyfriends,” She says, clearing her throat, “Back to the Yom Kippur War.” 

Quinn’s smile is sly. 

“I’ll take that as a no.” 

“I’ve only had boyfriends, and I only ever will.” Sam says, voice flat, “Now, the war.” 

“How come?” Quinn blinks, wide-eyed, “You never wondered? You never tried it?” 

“No,” Sam says, “Quinn, please.”

Quinn bites her lip. 

“Fine,” She says, with a stretch, “I’ll stop busting your balls.” 

Her eyes flicker up to Sam’s. 

“As long as you remember - balls aren’t the only option.” 

-

Mindy howls over lunch. 

“It’s not that funny, Mindy,” Sam says, looking around. Well aware people are starting to stare, “Hey, shut up. I’m in a crisis here.” 

Mindy draws her shoulders. Takes a deep breath. But her face breaks out immediately. 

Her laugh turns into a snort. 

“I’m sorry, Sam, it’s just too good-“ She says, between breaths, “She really said that?” 

Sam nods. It sets Mindy off once more. 

“Damn this girl has an agenda,” Mindy says, still laughing, “She wants into those Carpenter panties, she really doesn’t care who’s wearing them.” 

“Stop being gross and help me,” Sam hisses. 

“Just tell her you like dick,” Mindy says, with a shrug, finally calming down. 

“I think we’ve established I tried that already,” Says Sam, cheeks flushed, “I get the impression no means yes to her. You know what - I know it for a fact.” 

She chews her lip. 

“Maybe I should just quit.” 

“Relax, Sam,” Says Mindy, with a groan, “This Quinn girl - she’s persistent, sure. But I doubt she’s dangerous or anything. Worst she’ll do is try to kiss you. Hey, then maybe you can put her in a headlock too. Give you and Tara something to bond about.” 

Sam glares. 

Mindy holds back another laugh. 

“Look - say you quit - then what? You get another job, waiting tables or working at a movie theater and hate your life. More than you already hate it.” 

Sam scowls. 

“I don’t hate my life,” She says. 

Mindy nods. 

“Sure, but you don’t love it. Let’s see,” She lists them off on her fingers, “No college degree, no boyfriend, no parents, your friends are a bunch of kids you used to babysit, and your alarm is having to listen to your sister take her girlfriend to pound town every morning.” 

Sam’s ears flame red. 

“You’re disgusting,” She says, voice flat, “And my life is just fine, thank you.” 

Mindy shrugs. 

“If you say so,” She says, slurping at her milkshake. She pauses, “God, that just made me sad. Maybe you should bang Quinn.” 

“Very helpful,” Sam grumbles, as she stands, “Thanks Mindy.” 

-

Sam gets home late - on purpose. 

The last thing she wants to do is deal with the changing winds of Tara’s mood swings. Or even worse - the “I told you so”, which she’s sure is to come. 

She hits the gym. 

Tries to decompress her own thoughts. 

Quinn is only trying to get close to Tara, she reasons, Quinn wants you because she can’t have your sister. 

Her treadmill jog turns into a sprint. 

And you’re straight.  

It’s dark by the time Sam gets home. 

But when she enters the apartment, expecting an empty living room - Tara’s sprawled across the couch. 

The lights are out, and Sam squints as she makes out her sister's figure. 

Tara sits up, like she’s been waiting for her. 

Storm in her eyes. 

“I hope you’re happy with yourself,” Says Tara, arms crossed. The couch has been transformed into a makeshift bed, in which she is clearly sleeping in. 

Alone. 

“Your new best buddy Quinn has caused disarray in my relationship.” 

Sam sighs, setting down her bag. 

“What happened?” She asks, reaching into the fridge for a beer. Alcohol is always necessary when Tara is like this. 

Tara crosses her arms. 

“You know what happened,” She says, “We got rid of Quinn and you brought her back into our lives.” 

“Quinn’s not in your life, Tara,” Sam reminds her, “She’s barely in mine. You really think she’s worth picking arguments over?” 

Tara frowns. 

“I didn’t pick an argument,” Tara says, “You’re the one who brought it up.” 

“And so you’re sleeping on the couch?” Sam asks, eyebrows raised, “What did you say?” 

Tara huffs. 

“Why do you always assume it was me who said something?” She asks.

“Because it usually is.” Sam retorts. She lifts the beer to her lips and takes a long swig. 

Tara’s quiet. 

“I just suggested we should… maybe help you look for a new job or something.” 

Sam stares. 

“Make you quit your job, is what I said, I think.” Tara says, a little sheepish, “YN’s mad because she doesn’t think I treat you well, or whatever. But I told her you don’t care about that. We’re sisters, we treat each other badly. That’s just how it goes.” 

She looks over to Sam, expectantly. Like she’s waiting for her to agree. 

Sam blinks. A sharp wave of hurt flushes through her chest that she can’t quite swallow. 

“I don’t treat you badly, Tara, I love you.” Says Sam after a long moment. There’s pain in her chest, making her words hard to get out, “I flew across the country for you. I’m living in a shoebox apartment infested with cockroaches for you. I fought Ghostface for you.” 

Tara blinks. 

“I tell you I love you everyday, before I leave, do you know that?” Sam asks, eyebrows crinkled, “But you never say it back. Why do you never say it back?” 

Tara just stares, eyes owlish. 

Sam might cry. 

Mindy’s half-cocked summary of her life had also made Sam a little sad. Because what does she have, truly? 

No boyfriend, no friends, a sister who treats her less than human. Like Sam’s a piece of dog-shit on the bottom of her shoe that she can’t quite shake. 

She won’t cry in front of Tara. 

Sam drops the empty beer bottle to the counter and rubs her eyes. Her sadness momentarily turns to anger. 

“I do everything for you,” Sam tells her, after a long moment, “But I love this job. This time you can do something for me. You can accept it.” 

-

When Sam leaves in the morning, the apartment is strangely somber. 

Tara’s avoiding Sam. You’re not talking to Tara. Sam’s not talking to anyone.

You don’t really talk to anyone, nowadays, anyway, she thinks, and then bats away the dreary thought. 

She spends the day on auto-pilot. Tries to will away the self-deprecating hatred brewing in the pit of her stomach. 

Quinn’s smiling when she finally makes her way into the library. 

Maybe the only person in her life happy to see her. 

It’s a sad thought, even for Sam. 

“Joe’s in the best pizza,” Quinn gushes, touching her arm, a little bit into their study session, “Now you live in New York you’ve got to get serious about this kind of thing.” 

Sam bites her lip. 

“I don’t know how much longer I’ll be in town anyway,” Says Sam, “I’m thinking about going home.”

Quinn tilts her head. 

“How come?” 

Sam shakes her head. 

“I’m just- I’m in Tara’s space. It’s not good for our relationship.” 

Quinn hums. 

Sam blinks. 

“Sorry,” She says, catching herself, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Let’s start on the next chapter.” 

“Tara won’t have any space if you leave her here,” Quinn says, tilting her chin, “Believe me. I lived in that apartment. I know how expensive it is.” 

“It’s an expensive shit-hole,” Sam mumbles, “You know every shower I’ve had this week has been cold?” 

Quinn nods, sympathetically. 

“I remember.” 

Sam surveys her for a moment. 

Her brows crease. And her curiosity gets the better of her. 

“Why’d you do it, anyway?” She asks, “Go for my sister? I mean, five minutes alone with the two of them and anyone could see how in love they are.” 

Quinn shifts. 

Averts her gaze, suddenly shy. 

It makes Sam frown. 

“I don’t know,” Quinn says, after a long moment, “Your sister- she seems like a really good girlfriend. I’ve only had bad boyfriends. Maybe I just wanted a change. Someone to treat me right, for once.” 

“And you really thought you could do it?” Sam asks, eyebrow raised, “Seduce her?” 

“No,” Quinn admits, “But it was fun to try. I like that. People I can’t have.”

Sam quirks an eyebrow. 

“You’re lucky YN didn’t beat your ass,” Sam says, the ghost of a smile on her lips, “I’ve seen her do much worse.” 

Quinn licks her lips. 

“Your sister is really beautiful,” She says, after a moment, “But you’re much prettier. Supermodel pretty.” 

The back of Sam’s neck prickles. 

Quinn scoots in a little closer.  

Their thighs touch. A spark flushes through Sam’s body, embering into wildfire before Sam can get a grip on it. 

Quinn’s lips are red. Her blue eyes are dilated. In the glow of the library-light, Sam could almost lean in…

Instead, she stands. Snapping up like she might die if she doesn’t. 

“Quinn,” She says, voice flustered, “I’m not stupid, I know what you’re trying to do.”

Quinn blinks. She cocks her head, dark eyes flashing with innocence. 

“And what am I trying to do?” 

“You couldn’t have Tara, so you’re throwing yourself at me,” Sam says, voice firm, “You think you’re slick, Quinn, but I see right through you.” 

Quinn tilts her head. 

“I just said you were prettier than her.” She says, “Your sister - she’s nice. She’s cute in a pedestrian sort of way. But you - you’re beautiful. Maybe the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” 

Sam can’t help the blush that stems from the bloom in her stomach and sprouts beet red in her cheeks. 

Quinn Bailey can talk. 

But Sam isn’t falling for it. 

“I’ve got to go,” She says, slinging her back over her arm, “I have- plans.” 

There are no plans. Sam hopes it isn’t obvious. 

Quinn purses her lips. 

“Anywhere fun?” She asks, easy smile on her lips, “Maybe I could come?” 

“Bye, Quinn,” Sam says, voice firm. 

And all but stumbles out of the library with Quinn watching. 

-

“Mindy,” Sam groans, down the phone line on her walk home, “You have to help me. I’m in trouble. Big trouble.” 

“Let me guess,” Mindy says. She sounds like she’s out somewhere - at a bar, or a particularly echoey house party, “You have a big fat hickey on your neck courtesy of one Quinn Bailey?” 

Sam’s cheeks flame. 

“I’m straight, Mindy,” She says, though her voice hovers, “You know that. Quinn - she won’t stop. She threw herself at me again tonight.” 

“Well, maybe you should just let her fuck you,” Mindy suggests, unhelpfully. She sounds a little drunk, “The girl likes what she can’t have so let her have you. Then she’ll leave you alone.” 

“That is some particularly unhelpful logic,” Snaps Sam, “Where are you, anyway? It sounds like there’s three of you.” 

“We’re at one of Chad’s lame house parties,” Says Mindy, “God, your sister’s in a mood, you know that? She’s scaring off all the cute girls. Not even YN can calm her down.”

“Oh,” Says Sam, stopping in her tracks, “You’re throwing a party? Who’s there?” 

“Me, Tara, YN, Chad, Liv,” Says Mindy, without a beat, “Plus every other freshman on campus. Chad tried to get some seniors to come, but he’s a little far off becoming the campus hotshot again.” 

Something pangs deep within Sam’s chest. 

Loneliness coils like a snake around her heart, tugging, tugging, tugging. 

The line is quiet, and Mindy seems to realize her mistake. 

“You don’t want to be here though Sam, it’s super lame. Just freshmen.” She says, hurriedly. 

“Of course not.” Sam says, trying to keep her voice light.

Why would she want to be there? At some lame party with kids four years younger than her, drinking like it’s the first - and last - drop of alcohol they’ve ever had in their lives. 

Because, sings that little voice in the back of her head, every friend you have in this city is there. And not one thought to invite you. Not even your own sister.

“You can come if you want,” Mindy suggests, a moment later, “I’m really sorry, Sam, I didn’t even think-” 

Sam bites her lip. Hard. 

“The last thing I want to do is watch a bunch of kids get wasted off keg-stands,” Sam says. She takes in a breath, and she doesn’t know why - but she’s desperate for Mindy to believe her, “Enjoy the party, Mindy, I’ll talk to you in the morning.” 

“Sure,” Mindy echoes, “Night, Sam.” 

-

It really is pathetic, Sam thinks as she pours herself a large glass of wine, your life. It’s pathetic. 

It’s Friday night. 

She should be out. She should be drinking and partying with friends her own age. She should be dancing in a club, dragging a stranger home and regretting it in the morning. 

What she shouldn’t be doing - is lounging around in her sister’s apartment, drinking by herself. She shouldn’t be moping about an invitation to a party with a friend group that isn’t even hers.

She’s made Tara her world. 

But in Tara’s world, she’s not even a thought. 

Not a sun, not a star, not even a moon. 

Maybe, if she’s lucky, a bit of space-junk Tara can’t quite shake from her orbit.

Pathetic. 

Space-junk, she thinks briefly, that’s a good name for you. A waste of space, more like. 

Sam sinks another glass of wine. 

The buzz feels nice. But the apartment is too quiet. 

Just Sam and her thoughts - a dangerous mix. 

And then - her phone buzzes. Sam has five glasses of wine in her. She answers, without checking who’s calling. 

And her voice catches in her throat when she hears the voice on the other end of the line. 

“Hey stranger,” Says Quinn, “I just wanted to call. I didn’t want to leave our conversation the way it was.” 

Sam pauses. 

She blinks - the room spins. 

“If you’re not interested, I understand,” Continues Quinn, and her voice lowers, “But I think you’ve misunderstood me.” 

Sam’s heartbeat jumps out of her chest. The hairs on the back of her arm raise, something she can’t quite name surges through her veins. 

She swallows, but her mouth is dry. Despite the constant flow of alcoholic lubrication. 

Quinn pauses a moment, and then sighs. 

“I don’t want you because of your sister,” Quinn says, voice graveled, “I want you because you’re beautiful.”

Sam hums. 

She closes her eyes, but she’s still spinning. 

High off alcohol, high off arousal, high off something. 

It feels nice to be wanted, no matter who is doing the wanting. 

She closes her lips, once. Tries to hang up. But she can’t.  

Then, she bites her lip. 

“Come over.”

[ghostfaceaddams]

update!

I really suck at this whole writing account thing omg.

SO! *claps hands*

Still writing SuperGirl!Vada and am working on chapter one of this night has opened my eyes. I'm going to try and post a one shot of Wednesday or Adrian Chase, or the first chapter of this night has opened my eyes, because I really have not posted much on here.

I really do love this account. As nervous as I am to share my work, it's also fun and I'm excited to continue. I also really would love to make some connections with people on here! I'm just really awful at posting on here, I'm going to try and fix that sksksksk

#ghostfaceaddams #gfaddams thoughts #gfaddamswritingcorner #jenna ortega #wednesday addams #adrian chase

[ghostfaceaddams]

Stab. Coming soon to Paramount+

[ghostfaceaddams]

Nina Dobrev as Vicki Summers • The Final Girls (2015)

[ghostfaceaddams]

KINKTOBER day 9

pairing: dark!quinn bailey x fem!reader, tara carpenter x fem!reader, slight quinn x tara

summary: you and tara are in relationship, happy one, but what if someone thinks they can be better for you?

warnings: smut!!!, dark!quinn, begging, choking, biting, noncon, dirty talk, slut as a nickname, degrading, crying, mentions of blood, cheating, face slapping, quinn is threating with knife, pussy spanking, little dark!tara as well, not proofread, if anything else - let me know!

word count: 3.3k

an: i wrote this at my work and... yeahh, i basically got paid for this so i guess that´s a win! heh, i hope you´ll enjoy this. i think i need to write some fluff after this, or maybe just touch some grass outside, anyways... enjoy!:p

(italics = your thoughts)

!MDNI!

Enjoy this spooky time and be safe!

"Tara, please!" You whine out.

"Look who´s begging now, huh?" She smirks agaist your neck as her hand run all over you.

"Shut up and just-" For Tara´s height she was really strong, you´re not really sure if it´s because of her training with her sister, or because you underestimate her all the time, but the way she´s pinning you down right now is unbeliveble, and hot.

Tara´s hand slides up to your neck and it shut you up real quick, she makes eye contact with you and squeezes a little. "If you want something, you should ask nicely, (Y/N)."

Of coruse she´s teasing now, since you already made her cum two times tonight. And to be fair, you weren´t entirely nice about it either.

"So how it´s gonna be, (Y/N)?" She smiles at you.

You hate her in these situations, because she always gets what she wants. Always. It´s her stupid pretty face with stupid frackles and stupid big eyes, that make you melt everytime.

"Please Tara," she slows down her hand movements on your body, "I want you to touch me and just-" She starts to circle on your lower stomach as she listens to you very closely, "make me cum, please."

"Your wish is my command, love." She kisses you one more time and then slowly makes her way down, it was really easy access since both of you were completly naked.

Closing your eyes to feel the full pleasure was something you did often, but Tara wasn´t really satisfied with so little eyecontact so she bites into your skin, something that Tara did often to bring your attemtion back to her. Even in school, when you were reading a book for some quite time, she bit your hand.

As you open your eyes, Tara just gives you a small smile, indicating that you did very well. You´re needy as much as her, she just really needs to taste you and make you fall apart. And she did, she starts out slow, teasing you and mostly teasing your clit, she was the biggest fan of yours and she made sure you know it every day.

That night she made it known four times, before you were overstimulated.

After Tara cleaned you up, she noticed that you were already sleeping, which is a good thing, since the last few days were hectic and you barerly slept. She got up and made her way to the kitchen.

"Oh shit, you scared me, Quinn! I thought you´re at you Italian boyfriend." Tara chuckles.

"He´s not my boyfriend and I realized he´s not so good in bed, it was just his lucky day, the firt time we met, I guess..." The readhead shrugs as she sips on her water. "But you sounded like you had a great time, huh?" Quinn raises her eyebrow and Tara just blushes, real hard.

"Oh um... yeah. I though that no one will be at home, so we like-" Tara stutters and Quinn just laughs.

"Didn´t hold back, got it." Quinn nods.

"Yeah... can you not tell Sam? I mean she would give me some sex advices and I just really don´t want to hear it." Tara groans.

Sam knew you and Tara were dating for a few months, but after everything that happened a year ago, she was still very suspious of you turning into a big scary killer and kill everyone. Which is definetly what you´re doing as your after school activity every Wednesday and Friday. You even had a small arguments with Tara, one time she was on Sam´s side, the other day she was hating her sister for always being up her ass. Well let´s just say that dating Tara is little rollercoaster of emotions, but you wouldn´t trade it for anything.

"Won´t do and hey, bring your girl some water, I think she needs it." Quinn throws a bottle of water to Tara.

"Thanks! Goodnight, Quinn." Tara is still blushing like crazy, but she quickly dissapears into her room.

Quinn watches Tara go to her room, where you were sleeping peacefully after Tara made you scream like that. How much Quinn wanted to be there, to see you, to take care of you, to make you scream her name.

You and Quinn met after you brought some literature books to Tara. Which was few months ago and since that, she can´t get you out of your head. But Tara captured your heart first, but she know she can change your mind. And she will.

What Tara didn´t know was that the bottle she just caught was Quinn´s special bottle for her plan to work. And so far it was working amazing, Sam out of town for buisness meeting, you being dead asleep and Tara being so naive, which makes her vulnerable.

Quinn read Tara like a book, so she knew right away, that she will have a sip or two as well. So after Tara making you drink at least half of the bottle, you pass out back to sleep. Her lips touches the bottle too and she drinks the rest of it. And bang, she´s dead asleep too.

Quinn peaks into Tara´s room and smirks to herself, knowing she has the whole night for making the perfect scene.

...

You´re not really sure what time it is, but when you open your eyes, trying to ajdust to the light, you can´t see Tara in the bed with you, so it must be after 8AM, since Tara likes to go to the coffee shop for hers and yours favorites orders.

As you try to sit up, you notice you can´t. Your hands and legs are tied to the bed and you just let out a chuckle. You know that Tara is really open about trying out new things with you, but this is a big unexpected jump even for you. But to be honest you don´t mind at all. You still feel little sore, from yestreday´s action, but nothing you can´t take.

"Baby?" You say little louder, hoping she would get in the room immidietly. But there is no response. "Love?" You try again, but nothing comes from the other side, the doors are still closed. "Tara? I uh- I´m awake!" You get little imatient, as it´s been few minutes, on the bed, without your girlfriend, tied to the bed.

The door finally open, but it´s not your girlfriend. "(Y/N), are you oka-" you and Quinn look at eachother. "oh- sorry! I didn´t know-" Quinn turns around, ready to walk out.

"No, Quinn! Wait! I- Can you help me please?" You quickl say, before she can dissapear.

"Help?" She turns around. "I don´t want to get into, whatever you and Tara have..." Quinn lies, but you´re too emberassed to catch how her words came out in a sarcatic, harsh way.

"No, it´s fine. Uh Tara is not here and my hands are getting really sore, so... if you could just-" You nod towards the ropes attached to your wrists.

"Tara is not here?" Quinn tilts her head, playing innocent is really easy for her, but she can´t contain herself much around you, especially around your naked body, tied to the bed. Completly at her mercy.

You just nod, hoping you will get out of this situation quickly as possible.

"That´s a shame isn´t is?" Quinn walks to you closer, sitting on the bed next to you as her hand grab your wrist. "That Tara is not here." She looks at you.

"I mean... It´s just embarrassing." You mumble as you look at her hand on your wrist.

Why is it taking so long?

"Aww you´re embarrassed. Don´t be, look at you. Look at your body," her hand is now running from your wrist, along your sides, then back up circlening on around your nipples, "it´s perfect, (Y/N)."

"Quinn, what are you doing? This is not- Tara will come back." You try to move away from Quinn, but it´s really hard with the fact that you´re tied to the bed.

"Don´t worry, she won´t come back. Not now at least." The readhead whispers into your ear, which brings out goosebumps on your whole body. Your nipples are now hard, since you´re naked and the room is quite cold.

"Quinn-" you look at her in complete panic, you don´t know what to do, but Quinn does. She planned this to every single detail.

"Shhh, just enjoy it. I heard you last night, you sounded so good, but..." she moves closer to you and kiss you under your jaw, "I know you can scream louder than that, slut."

"Please don´t..." few tears start to fall from your eyes.

"Okay, if you´re not wet, I´ll stop. That´s fair, isn´t it?" She smirks, knowing damn well, that you gonna lose this one.

Fuck, you´re fucked.

You try to move your hips, hoping you could dry yourself up somehow, but you know it´s a lost fight already. You hate your pussy for betraying you like this. You´re body always wanted this kind of a treating, but you need your body to understand that this is not you Tara.

"Let´s see..." Quinn stand up and slowly trails her hand from your breasts, to your stomach and all the way to your pussy. "And look at that!" She smiles as her finger slips into you so easily. "You´re drenhced. You don´t like this, you love this, of course you do!" She pulls her finger out and brings it to her mouth, tasting you. "So fucking sweet. I don´t blame Tara for eating you out for hours, this taste is addicting!" She chuckles.

You try to get out of those restrains, but you can´t. "Quinn-"

"Zip it, I want to hear you scream my fucking name, when I make you fall apart, got it?" Quinn put her hand around your neck and squeezes hard, then she moves to sit on top of you as she begins to make out with you. As a protest you bite her lip, but that didn´t stop Quinn at all, it´s the exact opposite, her kissing gets messier as you can taste her blood on your lips, she´s more turned on. And sadly, you are too.

Her hand slips back on your pussy as she starts quicken her pace and you let out a moan. "See? Not that hard." Quinn mumbles against your lips. And it´s her time to bite your lip.

Fuck- this is so wrong, but it feels so good.

Her hand on your neck starst to get really tight as her other hand on your pussy is playing with you faster, so fast that you can´t hold it anymore. "Fuck, Quinn!" you let out the most pornographic moan of your entire life.

"Good fucking girl, I knew you will like this. Of course you do, you´re such a slut. My slut." She wispers into your ear.

You hum agaist her, trying to catch your breath was the only thing you can concentrate on, at the moment.

"And now you´re agreeing with me. See? I knew you will like this." She kisses your head. "Let´s show this to Tara, hm?"

Your eyes widen at the mention of your girlfriend. "W-what? N-n-no, I don´t think-" Quinn cuts you off.

"You´re not here for thinking, slut. Only for screaming my name, so now shut up and don´t move." She winks, knowing you barely can move a muscle.

After five minutes Quinn comes back with Tara tied to a chair. "Oh my god-" you scream. "Tara? Tara, baby?" you yell towards her, but Tara just looks up at you with tears in her eyes.

"Quinn let her go! Please," you whine, hoping that she will listen. "please." You start to cry more, already forgetting about the pleasure she made you feel a minutes ago.

"Jesus christ, you´re such a cry babies." She comes to you and slaps your cheek. "I will give you a reason to cry, if you continue, slut." Quinn´s soft hand make contact with your cheek one more time and you try to hold your tears.

You lay there completely naked as your whole body is shaking, you´re not sure if it´s still from the pleasure or the stress or the fact that you´re actually really cold. You look at Tara and you notice that she stopped crying too.

"I´ll make a deal with you two, if you," Quinn smiles and looks at Tara, "will fuck (Y/N) the way I say, do everything I´ll order you to do, then I might think about not killing you. If you won´t, Tara... bye bye, see you on the other side." Quinn takes a pocket knife out of her pocket and swings it next to Tara´s cheek.

"You can´t do that!" Yelling was a stupid thing to do, but in order to protect your girlfriend you would do anything. Quinn turns to look at you and she slaps you again. "Gosh, stop making me hurt that pretty little face of yours." She looks at Tara, but quicly turns back to you. "Are you doing this on purpose? Of course, you fucking like getting spanked!"

You blush at Quinn´s words. You fucking blush. "Tara..." your voice breaks as you look at your Tara, watching your naked body.

"Fine. You fucking freak!" Tara spits on Quinn.

Quinn smiles, "oh you two are so messy and I love it!" She swings her knife again, laughing at the two of you. "If you try anything, I´ll cut your throat like, understood?" Tara just nods.

Quinn unties Tara and immedietly points her knife at her. "I want you to eat her out. And you-" Quinn point her knife at you, "you better fucking scream, remember your sweet girlfriend´s life is on the line, (Y/N)."

Tara slowly moves towards you, "are you okay, baby?" she whispers to you and you just nod.

"Enough with the chit chat, get to fucking work!" Quinn yells as she sits on the chair next to the bed.

Tara just gives you a soft smile, something that used to calm you down, but not now. At least you´re glad that the both of you are okay... alive.

As she slowly put her hands under you, she draw small circles of reassurance, hoping it would calm you down at least a little bit. Clossing your eyes sounded like a good idea, at least now you can imagine being there with only your Tara, if that was the case, this would honestly be a very enjoyable moment for the both of you.

As her motuh got closer to your wet pussy, you could feel her breath on you, which brings the shivers everywhere and you let out a soft moan. Tara kisses your pussy, she did this everytime, you love how soft she can be in a dirty moments like this. But... both of you feel like this is a completly different thing, as you´re trying to stay alive.

Tara´s tongue start to go up and down, tasting you made her hums against you as you let out yet another moan. "Fuck, Tara-" your hips jerk at her skilled motuh.

"Oh none of that! You will moan my name, slut. Not hers. Come on!" Quinn harshly says.

"I-" all of your words left you, you don´t know what to say, it feel so wrong. But you want to survive this, whatever this is.

Tara´s hand squeezed you softly, giving you a sign that it is okay. You take a deep breth and at the same time Tara quicken her licks and you moan. "Quinn! Fuck, oh my fucking god!" You moan.

Quinn is smilling ear to ear as she knows how much fucked up thing she´s doing right now. But it took her so long to look at you and Tara, like she didn´t care, like she was okay with you two. But now? When her plan is perfectly made, she can do whatever she wants.

"Give the slut three fingers." Quinn orders.

Tara knows you never took three fingers with her, you´re too tight, she wants to protest, but she also knows the consequences of this decission. So without missing a single beat she slides three fingers into you. Shockingly it went in smoothly and you´re now a moaning mess, repeating only one word, "Quinn".

"Harder," another one of Quinn´s orders.

Tara start to pump her fingers in and out harder, making you whine at how harsh she is going. "That- hurts."

"Good, make it hurt." Quinn´s hand start to slide into her own pants and she was drenched, everything that happened today and is still happening was her dream.

Tara´s fingers were hurting you a lot, but at the same time you feel this pleasure that you never felt and it feel so good, your pussy is swallowing Tara´s fingers and she can feel how much you like it.

"Slap her clit." Quinn let out a shaky words as she was also coming closer to the edge.

And Tara did, so hard, that you think she´s letting out all her anger and frustration on you and you are correct. She don´t stop, she just contniues slapping your clit, until it´s Quinn who brings her out of it. "I think she had enough of spankings, Tara." Quinn chuckles as the sight of Tara slapping you was truly a masterpiece.

Tara stops, but you can tell by looking into her eyes, that she was still angry, sad, horny, but mostly furious with you and the whole situation. And Quinn could tell too, which was again something that just made her plan work, even better.

"Stop and sit on her face, let that little slut make you cum." Quinn notices how Tara´s eyes shift at that order, she was fucking with the two of you so effortlessly.

No matter how much you whimper or try to buck your hips, none of the girls cared, Tara just sits on your face and her hips start to move back and forth, not really carring if you can´t breathe with her pussy in your face at all. Your tongue start to get to work, licking as much as juices as you can, noticing that Tara is enjoying way too much. Noticing that her body is betraying you as much as yours do.

"Let it out, Tara. All these ugly emotions, let it all out." Quinn mumbles as she´s nearly there herself.

No need to say it twice, Tara lean in so she can reach your pussy and she start to spank you again. This time faster and harder, letting out all the anger from you screaming Quinn´s name, from all the moans that were supposed to be hers, but mostly from you being a slut.

And the fact that you´re very close to cumming just comfirms how big of a slut you are, not to Tara, but to anyone who is willing to touch you.

This moment was meant to be, as on the same time all of you cum from the pleasure you are feeling. Tara came all of your face, as almost suffocating you in her juices and pussy. Quinn came at the beautfiul sight infront of her and you came as a dirty little slut, from all the pain that´s Tara been causing you by her hand.

Quinn stands up and come closer to you and Tara. "You did great, my little sluts." She smiles.

Tara want to do something, but she is too tired to jump on Quinn and tackle her down, but she´s trying to come up with the best thing she can do right now.

"Don´t even think about it." Quinn put some fallen hair behind Tara´s ear. "Because I´m so nice and I want this to be more than just a one time thing, I made sure that you two will behave." She walks to the window, where she had her phone recording this whole time, but only the bed, so if she truly wanted to, she would manipulate this recording for her own use. "Because of this, we will have so much fun in the future, girls."

And now you´re truly fucked.

Thank you for reading!!!!

#gfaddams recs #tara carpenter x y/n #quinn bailey x y/n #tara carpenter x quinn bailey

[ghostfaceaddams]

Ok I’m absolutely obsessed with your Quinntana fic and would love for you to write more for them!!!

omg tysm! This means a lot to me, especially since they were one of my first ships that I actually decided to write for. Them, Allydia, and Zadison were the three ships that started my fanfic writing for me so those three ships will always have special places in my heart.

I'll see what I can do about writing more of them! I'm all ears if you have any ideas

#gfaddams anons

[ghostfaceaddams]

dc masterlist

Date Interrupted - Artemis x Zatanna

A Message - Dinah x Helena pt 1 | pt 2

#dc comics #dc universe #zatanna zatara x artemis crock #snaibsel #dinah lance x helena bertinelli #character x reader #donna troy x reader #gfaddamswritingcorner #ghostfaceaddams

[ghostfaceaddams]

It's the Great Pumpkin, Santana Lopez

Part Three

summary: It's time to see if Santana (and Quinn) will win the ultimate Halloween costume contest or not.

warnings: Santana punches Zizes, sexual thoughts for like one paragraph, and cussing.

word count: 4,690

The party was now in full swing. Despite Santana's passion and excitement for her annual Halloween party with Puck, she hadn't left Quinn's side with the exception of getting drinks or going to the bathroom. Every year they came together and Santana never left Quinn's side.

The blonde was surprised Santana had stuck with her at first considering her irritancy over their costumes.

"Why are we going as comic book characters? People are going to think we're nerds Quinn! Do you want that? Because I certainly don't want that! It's bad enough we're gay in a small town, must we be nerds too? What's next, wearing flannel and playing video games?"

Quinn rolled her eyes and rubbed her girlfriend's tense shoulders.

"I'm going to pretend like you didn't just say that." Quinn said somewhat sternly and exasperatedly, referring to the gay comment. Santana rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"First of all, you already play video games. With Puck. Second of all, just because we're going as comic book characters doesn't mean we're nerds but even if we were, who cares." Santana opened her mouth to shout, "everyone" but Quinn continued. She swore a vein was going to pop with that girl.

"JBI won and he was dressed as Darth Vader, so really I think you should be excited about this."

Santana frowned and uncrossed her arms. Her face was scrunched up in a slightly dramatic pout and her arms were dangling helplessly out in front of her. Quinn sighed and climbed onto Santana's lap.

"It's just so cliche, and everyone does it. I want to impress people."

"Baby you're so hot, you're going to impress everyone." Quinn smiled encouragingly.

"Yeah, I guess I am pretty sexy huh?" Santana crinkled her nose and nodded her head cockily.

Quinn smiled and rubbed her thumbs against Santana's warm, smooth skin. "The sexiest." She confirmed, sealing the deal with a kiss.

Quinn was more than a little worried about the red and blue coming out of her hair but for the moment, for the night, she didn't give a fuck. She wanted to show Santana that she was committed to her so she went all the way in. The awe on Santana's face when she saw Quinn's pigtails and knew it was actual dye was enough for Quinn. She would dye her hair every year for Halloween to receive that same reaction.

Santana handed Quinn a red solo cup, the blue lights making Santana's leaves look cyan. Quinn went to say she was good for the tenth time that night but Santana stopped her.

"The only person you're sleeping with tonight is me and I can't get you preggers babycakes."

Quinn steadied Santana with a look, challenging Santana's easygoing smile. Santana was right of course and she didn't want to be a buzzkill. Plus that sure look glinting in Santana's eyes was contagious. She rolled her eyes and took the red solo cup out of Santana's hands. She took a lengthy sip of her drink and looked back at the brunette.

"You happy?"

"Fucking ecstatic." Santana grinned, wrapping her arms around Quinn's waist.

The both smiled as their lips met. They stayed pressed together for several seconds before parting to continue. But before they could get frisky, Puck came barreling towards them. He slung his overweighted arms around their shoulders resulting in Quinn spilling her drink.

"Damnit Puck!" Quinn grumbled and threw the plastic cup down.

"Quinn!" Santana called after her pissed girlfriend who was storming away.

Santana huffed and fixed Puck with a weighted glare.

"What?" He asked as if it was spelled wut.

Santana punched him hard in the arm but it really only ended up hurting her. She hated that Puck was wearing that fireman jacket, it was so heavy and rough. And now it caused her girlfriend to storm off.

"What the hell was that for?"

"You're a douchebag."

"Oh come on Santana, it was an accident!" Puck exclaimed.

Santana flipped him off and went in search of her precious girlfriend. She loved Puck and was protective over those closest to her, but when it came to Quinn, she was overprotective. She checked the overcrowded kitchen first in hopes of finding Quinn trying to fix her stain. When she didn't spot her she growled and started venturing throughout the house.

Quinn had her teeth gritted and was trying to scrub at the stain without worsening it. She may be overreacting but Puck just got on her nerves sometimes. Not like she hated Puck or anything (she did at first, after getting pregnant, but not anymore), he was just...a lot like Santana, without being charming and not nearly as cruel. Sure Puck was a bully the first two years but sometime after he got Quinn pregnant, he changed.

She sighed and threw the washcloth on the counter. It wasn't that bad in retrospect, but Quinn worried it could ruin the competition. She wanted to win, a little because she loved to win but mostly for Santana.

She just didn't want to let Santana down. She had already let down so many people in life, her father especially. She couldn't let Santana down. Santana never let her down and was an amazing, wonderful, extrodinary human being that didn't deserve to be let down. She knew she had let Santana down when she got pregnant with her best friend while they were momentarily broken up, she doubted she could do worse but she didn't want to ever do it again.

There was a gentle knock on the door that could only mean it was Santana. She didn't even realize she was crying until she was sniffling and rubbing at her face (the best she could to not smudge her Harley Quinn makeup).

"Quinn? You in there?"

Her heart broke hearing how gentle Santana's voice was. God she wasn't even drunk and she was already a blubbering mess! The effects Santana had on her were insane.

"Yeah, I'm just uh-I'm going to the bathroom." Quinn instantly regretted lying because Santana always knew when she was lying even if she couldn't see her face.

"Well, can I come in?" Santana turned so she was leaning her shoulder against the door.

"No Santana I'm going to the bathroom." She lied once so she might as well stick with it.

"We both know that's as fake as your hair so let me in."

Quinn sighed, her shoulders sagging forward.

"Santana."

"Quinn if you don't let me in I'm going to start screaming bloody murder, and then everyone's going to come rushing in thinking I'm getting murdered or fucked, and I know you don't want an audience." Santana pushed herself off the door and pointed at where she presumed Quinn was standing.

"Like anyone could hear you over this music."

"Oh I think you know how loud I can be." Santana smirked.

Quinn's heart shuddered at the memories of how loud Santana was in bed.

"So, open up."

Santana started rocking back and forth on her feet, half impatient and half amused. She knew Quinn would cave in at some point.

Quinn didn't know why she was contemplating it, she knew Santana wasn't bluffing. Oh she knew that very well sexually. Her mind drifted to a more sexual place, her heart racing with lust. Maybe she could pull Santana in and just take her right here, either against the door or on the counter. Or maybe she could make Santana watch as she took her from be-

Suddenly Santana started screaming, shattering Quinn's fantasies. The blonde flung the door open and jerked a grinning Santana in. She closed the door and flung her arms around her girlfriends neck, burying her nose beneath Santana's ear. Santana lost her grin and was replaced with a frown. She wrapped her arms around Quinn and started rubbing soothing circles into her back.

Having known each other their whole lives made opening up easy. They weren't really skilled at opening up with anyone other than each other. There was Puck for Santana and Mercedes for Quinn and Brittany for both, but it was just natural with each other.

"I love you Santana."

Part of Quinn was still stuck in her sexual fantasies and the other half was wanting to break into tears again. She felt like she was being wishy washy over the whole situation so she'd rather go down on Santana.

"I love you too Lucy Q, you know that."

Quinn did, oh God did she. Whenever she thought about Santana's love for her or vise versa, she thought about Edward and Bella. What was it Edward said, that no one ever loved anyone as much as he loved Bella? She knew it was something like that and figured that was the motto for her relationship with Santana.

She was going to marry Santana someday.

"Quinn what's going on?"

Quinn pulled away and sniffed so she wouldn't start crying again. Now she wanted to cry over how much she loved Santana and wanted to spend the rest of her life with her.

"I'm sorry. I know I'm overreacting and it's not a big deal-" Quinn was on the verge of rambling.

Santana took Quinn's hands in hers and held them in between their chests.

"Hey, whatever it is I'm sure you're overreacting for a reason."

Quinn took her hands out of Santana's and weakly smacked her on the shoulder. Santana smiled, relieved at making Quinn smile.

"Now quit being dramatic and tell me what's wrong." Definitely going to marry her.

"I just...I don't want to let you down." Saying it sounded so stupid.

Santana furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head slightly as she asked, "How are you going to let me down?"

Quinn worried her bottom lip between her teeth and avoided Santana's gentle gaze. Santana's hands migrated towards Quinn where she rested her hands comfortingly on Quinn's hips. Her fingers slipped beneath Quinn's jacket and shirt and started brushing smooth skin.

"Well Puck and his idiot self spilled his drink all over me and ruined my outfit. Now, now we aren't going to win and I just-" Quinn was getting all worked up again.

Santana smiled, somewhere between a sad smile and an amused one. Her eyes were twinkling with love and amusement as she shook her head.

"Quinn."

Quinn shut her mouth and looked at Santana, her eyes more hazel and full of crazy worry. Santana quirked her lips up sympathetically.

"There's nothing you could do to let me down, okay?"

Quinn wanted to remind Santana about last year but from the look she was giving her, she assumed Santana knew she wanted to say that.

"You're much more important to me than any competition, even a Halloween one." She smiled lovingly making Quinn's heart ache. "Besides, it really doesn't look that bad. In fact, it looks kinda cool. Like you just kicked some major ass."

Quinn looked down and guessed that yeah, Puck's drink did make it look like some blood. She smiled and looked back up into Santana's smiling eyes.

"Now, if you're done having your meltdown, I would like to gets my groove on."

Quinn smiled and shook her head but grabbed Santana's outstretched one. Santana kissed the top of Quinn's head, Quinn's eyes momentarily fluttering shut. She imagined doing that when they were married and had kids, after long days at work when they just took a bath and watched some tv while drinking some wine.

"Your groove on?"

"Shut up."

*****

Now it was Quinn's turn to search for her girlfriend. She had just gotten done talking to Kurt and Sam who were enjoying dancing together as a couple. Sam was trying to teach Kurt some dance moves since he stuck to three and weren't that good. Her heart ached with happiness seeing her friends happy and feeling safe.

She found her girlfriend tearing into Finn about wearing the same boring costume. Rachel kept looking around for someone or something and then would shake her head at Santana. Quinn quirked her eyebrows together curiously.

"San?"

Santana shot her head over as if she had heard a gun. But when she realized it was Quinn she burst into a smile.

"See Finnocence, this is what Halloween is all about. Winning competitions, scaring little kids, and dressing up in either a sexy or iconic costume."

Quinn smiled and sidled up to Santana. The Latina's arm wrapped around Quinn while the blonde laid her head against Santana's shoulder.

"I thought Halloween was about candy."

Santana rolled her eyes exasperated.

"Halloween is the best time of the year!" Santana exclaimed.

"I thought that was Christmas."

Santana looked like she was ready to strangle to Finn. Quinn was sure if she actually had Poison Ivy's powers then she would choke Finn out with a vine.

"Hello Georgie, would you like a balloon?" Came a creepy voice.

"Holy fucking shit!" Santana yelled and before Quinn knew it her girlfriend was punching a Pennywise mask.

Santana stepped behind Quinn and wrapped her arms so tight around Quinn's abdomen that Quinn thought she was going to puke up the m&m chocolate chip cookie Brittany had given her. Rachel had her hands over her mouth and Finn's jaw had dropped to the floor.

"What the hell Lopez!" That was a different voice under the mask.

Lauren took the Bill Skarsgård Pennwywise mask off and dabbed at her nose. Some blood had seeped out but not a lot. Santana could have broken her nose if she had hit a little harder.

"You were suppose to be on the lookout Berry! You're never helping me throw a surprise party for Quinn!" Santana screeched.

Quinn placed her hands over Santana's that were still gripping Quinn entirely too tightly. She brushed her thumbs across Santana's knuckles which always helped when she was mad beyond comprehension or scared.

"She came up from behind!" Rachel defended.

"Dang Santana, that's some right hook." Mercedes mused walking up.

"Yeah so don't push me." Santana let go of Quinn's stomach and walked out from behind her.

Quinn sucked in a big breath of air. She was beginning to think she was going to pass out.

"I didn't realize you were afraid of clowns." Mercedes glanced at Quinn who slowly shook her head.

Bringing up clowns was a sure way to get on Santana's bad side. In Mercedes case she'd be ignored for a week.

"I'm not. They're just annoying and ugly. I hate seeing their faces so I punch them in hopes of making them look semi attractive like Berry over here." Defensive Santana.

Quinn smiled and wrapped her arm around Santana's waist. Santana uncrossed her arms and wrapped an arm around Quinn's slim waist. It was funny to see, Quinn all smiley and cuddly and Santana clearly pissed off and annoyed but holding Quinn so comfortably. It made Quinn's heart burst.

"You look awesome Mercedes." Finn smiled widely.

"Thank you Finn." Mercedes smiled and flaunted her outfit to everyone nearby.

Mercedes was wearing the Transvestite outfit from The Rocky Horror Show and looked just as astonishing as last time. Quinn's eyes raked up Mercedes' body appreciatively before quickly looking away. Jealous Santana was hard to deal with in a crowd. But instead of a jealous, threatening bronze in Santana's eyes there was appreciation. Her pupils were slightly dilated and they were dragging all over Mercedes' body.

Quinn couldn't believe it. Santana, miss I-know-you-had-the-hots-for-Mercedes-at-some-point-and-probably-still-do, was checking out Mercedes! She dropped her jaw and pulled her eyebrows together in a glare/pout then elbowed Santana in the ribs.

"Ow. The hell Q?" Santana whined.

Quinn huffed and pulled Santana closer against her, her hand resting very low on Santana's hip. If she was to flex her fingers they would touch Santana's ass. Santana grinned suddenly feeling lucky.

"How did you acquire this outfit Mercedes?" Rachel asked.

Both Quinn and Santana rolled their eyes. Rachel saw and just knew that they were meant to be. She definitely saw wedding bells in their future, maybe even after high school. Though she wasn't sure considering Quinn's devotion to academics.

"Mr.Schue let me borrow it. He said as long as there wasn't any alcohol and I didn't spill anything on it I could wear it."

"That was very...kind of him." Rachel faltered.

Santana laughed and started pulling Quinn sway from the diva off that was sure to happen. Santana led them outside to Puck's back porch where there were a few stragglers. Some teens were making out, one couple on the swing and another against the post. Santana cringed and pulled Quinn to the treehouse.

It had been Puck and Santana's when they were kids and passed on to his little sister. Next to it was a swing set. It wasn't much, just two simple swings but it was half of Santana's childhood. Santana's time as a child was spent with Puck, Quinn, or her abuela. She sadly only had two people left.

Their intertwined hands dangled in between the two swings. Quinn glanced up and saw a few teens littering the lawn and porch, they gave them odd looks. It melted Quinn's heart to know that Santana, who hated rom coms and touchy feely things, was holding her hand on the swings.

"Sam and Kurt told me what you did.

"Oh yeah? What awesome thing did I do now?" Santana smiled confidently.

"That you said Karofsky wasn't going to be here. That if any homophobic prick showed up you'd give them an ass kicking and kick them out."

Santana shrugged, suddenly bashful.

"They're our friends, they should be allowed to enjoy this sacred Holliday. No biggie."

Quinn chuckled and rested her hair against the chains, gazing lovingly at Santana. Santana had her head down and was focusing on the slow movements of the swing. She looked so calm and peaceful, Quinn never wanted to live in a world where she couldn't just look up at Santana.

"Even though Han Solo and Chewbacca are best friends, they're pretty cute together." Quinn commented about Kurt and Sam's costumes.

"Yeah."

Santana doesn't comment on Quinn's knowledge of Star Wars because she was with her when her and Sam watched all the movies. Santana had been on her phone the whole time (and tried to make out with Quinn a couple of times).

"Yo, Lopez! It's time to announce the winners!" Puck hollered some minutes later when it had gotten a little chilly for Santana and the teens outside had left.

Santana jumped up and pulled Quinn along. The brunette was so excited that she practically sprinted into the house which left Quinn dragging her feet. They made it to the front of the house where Puck stood up on his coffee table and turned off all the music. Santana handed him the microphone and picked up the goblet with the winner's name.

"Alright boys and gals, welcome to the fourth annual Puckerman and Lopez Halloween Bash!"

There were cheers and people tossing back drinks. Santana smiled widely and pulled Quinn against her chest.

"Now, all the votes have been counted and tallied, and we have come to a conclusion. My right hand gal, my best woman, Santana will hand me the results. Santana." Puck turned and looked down at Santana.

Santana grinned nervously and handed the goblet up to her best man. Her arms wrapped around Quinn's waist and started messing with the hem of her shirt. Quinn slipped her hands down and squeezed Santana's. Santana smiled softly and kissed her on the neck.

If it was up to Quinn, she would obviously pick her and Santana to win. They really tried to get as close to the comics as possible and Santana would be so happy if they won. But if she wasn't helplessly and madly in love with Santana, she would choose Kurt's friend Blaine. He had made his own superhero costume and even came up with a name: Nightbird.

Rachel, Finn, Mike, Tina, Artie, and Brittany were wearing their same costumes from school so lame. Lauren purposely wore the Pennywise mask just to scare Santana so of course Quinn didn't want her to win. Puck was just trying to impress the ladies. Kurt and Sam were cute and Mercedes was stunning.

Quinn didn't pay much attention to anyone else at the party. Too many people and the lights were always flashing different colors. It was hard to tell how many people had dressed up as angels and the devil or police officers and firemen.

Puck made a show of holding the goblet out for everyone to see. Then he slowly reached in like he was a game show host and brought it out as slow as a cartoon snail. He flipped the paper over, read it, glanced around the room for a minute, and then lifted his head.

"The winner of this year's Halloween costume contest, is Santana Lopez and Quinn Fabray!" Puck shouted.

The glee club burst into cheers but none louder than Santana. She screeched while Quinn pulled out of her embrace to clap. The blonde turned and watched as Santana glowed with jubilation. There was applause mixed with boos and murmurs of disappointment. Quinn could hear Puck hopping down off the coffee table and some of the glee club members congratulating them. But all she focused on was Santana smiling.

Santana hoisted Quinn up and twirled her around. Quinn screamed while smiling, her cheeks hurting from the intensity of the smile. The brunette set down the giggling blonde and kissed her passionately.

"I told you you had nothing to worry about." Quinn smiled kindly and raised her eyebrows.

Santana smiled and shook her head, her hands gliding around Quinn's hips.

"Yeah yeah, you were right and I was wrong. Just kiss this winner or else I won't share the trophy."

The trophy wasn't a trophy at all. It was just a cake that Santana and Puck made which Quinn wouldn't let anyone eat even if they did win. They said it was vanilla with black food coloring but Quinn wasn't so sure about that. It was decorated cute at least, they had dedication she'd give them that. This year they lathered it in black icing and wrote THE ROCKY HORROR GLEE SHOW in the same red letters as THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW. There was some "blood splatters" on there and tombstones as well.

Quinn did as she was told and kissed her girlfriend, elated that they had won.

*****

Santana was so wasted by the end of the party that Quinn was practically carrying her upstairs. Judy was on some work retreat that she couldn't get out of no matter how hard she tried. Quinn promised she wouldn't throw any Halloween parties and would tell her when she left for trick or treating and got home. Quinn thought it was best Santana stayed with her and sobered up a bit. They'd probably get in trouble for spending the night together unsupervised but Quinn thought it was the better option.

"Alright party girl, lets get your clothes off."

"Wanky." Santana slurred.

Quinn smiled and helped disentangle the costume from Santana's skin. It was just a one piece that cupped Santana's breast and barely covered her thighs. She had on green fishnet tights with leaves all over her legs, arms, and chest. But none of it looked tacky, it sparkled and looked wet which made Santana all that more appealing to the party goers. Even her skin had glitter on it. Oh how hard it was to not have her way with Santana at the party.

Quinn straightened Santana who had started to fall sideways.

"Stay here."

"Yes ma'am." Santana saluted with the wrong hand.

Quinn went to her walk in bathroom and quickly changed. She took the jacket and skin tight crop top off followed by the ridiculous short shorts and fishnet tights. She discarded her bra and slipped on a tshirt of Santana's and short shorts.

She hurried back into the bedroom and got some night clothes for Santana.

"I want one of your shirts." Santana mumbled from her spot on the bed.

Quinn smiled and got out her favorite t-shirt. It was a raggedy No Doubt one that was long and had holes in it. But it smelled like Quinn and was soft so she guessed it was all that mattered to Santana. She unclipped Santana's bra and slid the shirt over her head, not bothering with shorts.

She helped Santana up and made sure she was steady before pulling the covers back. Santana plopped down on the bed before Quinn could help her in. Quinn shook her head and crawled over the Latina who was dead weight at this point. She rolled Santana over onto her right side, sliding her right arm under her pillow and pulling her knees up. (She had read it online somewhere after the first party they had ever gone to. She never let Santana sleep alone after drinking, she didn't want to risk alcohol poisoning even if she didn't drink that much.)

She slipped her hand beneath Santana's shirt and placed her hand on the Latina's side. She reveled in the warmth of Santana's skin and sighed contently. After a few minutes she assumed that Santana had fallen asleep. It had been a long day and she was drunk so she thought that's what happened.

"I'm gonna marry you someday."

Quinn's breath caught in her throat. At first she thought she had misheard Santana, it was quiet and slurred. But then she replayed it in her head a few times and yep, Santana definitely said that.

"Oh yeah?" Quinn smiled.

Santana was cute when she talked about their future and how much she loved her, even if she was incapacitated.

"Mhm. And we're gonna buy a big ass house with a white picket fence. We're gonna have a bunch of mini Quinn's and mini Santana's running around. And a dog." Santana scooted closer to Quinn, wanting body heat and just Quinn.

Quinn bit her lip in an attempt to hide her smile. She didn't know how much of what Santana was saying was her and how much was alcohol. One thing she was sure of was that Santana wanted a future with her, just like she did with Santana.

"We'll have hot lesbian sex and you'll be the overbearing mom and I'll be the cool one."

"Why do you get to be the cool one?" Quinn thought she might as well play along because there was no harm in it.

"Because."

Quinn smiled and moved her hand to the small of Santana's back and back to her side. The brunette sighed and delved even further into the mattress. Quinn did it again knowing it relaxed her girlfriend for some reason.

"Dibs on proposing." Was the last thing Santana said before honking out for the night.

"If you remember this in the morning then sure." Quinn chuckled softly and kissed Santana on the head.

Quinn sighed and stayed up for the next hour making sure Santana was still breathing. Every hour or so she woke up to check on Santana, not even thinking about how exhausted she was going to be the next morning. She would take 1,000 exhausted mornings as long as they were spent with Santana.

Santana did get dibs on proposing to Quinn because next year at Easter, after Quinn started getting used to using her legs again, she proposed. The whole glee club was there with her parents and Judy present. Everyone cried and Quinn said yes because although it had a been a rough year and they were young, she knew she would never stop wanting or loving Santana.

They got married two years into college and had their first kid right after. His name was Lucca and had Quinn's eyes and Santana's dimples. Three years later they had Maia Alma Fabray-Lopez, named after Santana's abuela. They did end up getting a dog, a beagle named Prada.

Through it all, Santana and Quinn loved each other just as much as they did on Halloween 2010.

#glee #santana lopez #quinn fabray #santana lopez x quinn fabray #quinntana #halloween is the best time of the year #spooktober #also on ao3 under wankyyy