The Story So Far

🦂INTJ 🏳️‍🌈

[wholeheartedsuggestions]

it’s scary but you have to

let people love you

accept help

do the hard thing and do it scared

let your growth be slow

[iammickeymillz]

One day….

[musiicpix3l]

Yes yes i know love is love. But they are still killing CHILDREN. over this.

[mrsoulstice]

I’m blacker Coltrane

Blacker than Soul Train

I’m blacker than gold teeth, earrings, and gold chains

✊🏾✊🏾✊🏾

[promptsforthestrugglingauthor]

Writing Prompt #3972

"I...don't know what changed," he admitted. "One day, I'd do anything for her, but now..."

"Now you couldn't care less if she's there or not."

"I want her to be okay! Happy even! I just...don't need to be involved."

[iammickeymillz]

Water at Your Wedding: Chapter 11 Epilogue

A/N: Pairing: Tara Carpenter X Reader (G!P)

Summary: The end of a story that was supposed to be one chapter. Everyone deserves a happy ending. Thank you for coming along on this ride. Hope you enjoyed.

A few months later:

The house sat on the edge of a sleepy little town, two hours outside Woodsboro, close enough for comfort but far enough to feel like freedom. The air smelled of salt and pine, and the ocean wasn’t more than a ten minute drive from their front door.

Tara stood barefoot on the porch, rocking gently as she held their daughter against her chest. The little girl babbled happily, her tiny hand gripping Tara’s necklace as if she were afraid to let go.

Inside, Y/N was finishing dinner. Something simple, pasta and a bottle of wine breathing on the counter. She paused for a moment, watching them through the window. The sight still hit her the same way it had that first time in the hospital: Tara’s soft smile, the baby’s wide eyes—the same ones Y/N saw in her reflection every morning.

When Tara came in, Y/N wiped her hands on a towel and crossed the kitchen, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “She finally down?”

“Out cold,” Tara whispered with a smile. “I think she’s starting to dream.”

Y/N grinned. “Hopefully not about the terrible lullaby I tried to sing earlier.”

Tara laughed. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Dinner went half eaten, wine glasses half full. They ended up outside instead, sitting on the back steps beneath a sky freckled with stars. Tara leaned her head on Y/N shoulder, quiet.

“You ever think we’d get here?” Tara murmured.

Y/N looked down at her, smiling softly. “Honestly? No. I thought we’d never figure it out.”

Tara chuckled. “We almost didn’t.”

“Almost.” Y/N turned slightly, reaching into her pocket. Her heart thudded so hard it almost drowned out the crickets.

Tara looked up, brow furrowed. “What are you doing?”

Y/N exhaled. “Something I should’ve done a long time ago.”

She pulled out a small, silver ring simple, elegant, nothing flashy. It caught the porch light just enough to make Tara gasp softly.

“Tara Carpenter,” Y/N began, her voice trembling but sure, “we’ve been through more than I ever thought two people could survive. We’ve hurt each other, healed each other, and somehow found our way back every time. You’re the first person I ever loved, and the only one I ever want to.”

Tara’s eyes filled, a soft laugh escaping as tears welled. “Y/N…”

Y/N’s voice cracked, but she kept going. “Marry me. Not because we’re supposed to, not because it makes sense but because every version of my life without you feels half finished.”

Tara’s hand flew to her mouth, a tear slipping free. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.”

For a moment, Tara just stared at her—then she nodded, slow, certain, like the world had just clicked back into place. “Yes,” she whispered. “A thousand times yes.”

Y/N slipped the ring onto her finger. The tan line where Tara’s old ring had been was long gone, replaced now with something that actually felt like love.

Tara leaned in, pressing her forehead to Y/N’s. “You know what this means, right?”

“What?”

“You’re officially stuck with me.”

Y/N laughed, the sound bright and full. “Good. I’ve been trying to make that official since middle school.”

The baby stirred inside, a soft cry echoing through the open door. Tara started to move, but Y/N caught her wrist gently.

“I’ll get her,” Y/N said. “You just sit here and relax.”

Tara smiled, wiping her cheeks. “Okay. But hurry back. I want another kiss under the stars.”

Y/N grinned as she headed inside, glancing once more at the porch—the soft glow of the lantern, the woman she loved, the quiet hum of a life finally at peace.

For once, there was no more running, no more almosts. Just them.

A year later, the ocean glittered like liquid glass beneath a pale blue sky. The waves rolled in slow and steady, kissing the shore as if blessing the moment. A small crowd gathered barefoot on the sand. Family, friends, and the few who had witnessed the storms that led them here.

Tara stood beneath an archway of driftwood and wildflowers, the sunlight brushing over her ivory dress. Her bouquet trembled slightly in her hands, though her smile was steady and anchored.

At the other end of the aisle, Y/N waited in a tailored cream suit, hands folded loosely in front of her, fighting the grin that kept breaking across her face. When their daughter toddled down the aisle clutching a basket of rose petals — more interested in eating them than tossing them — Y/N couldn’t hold it back anymore. She laughed, full and bright.

And behind the little girl walked Sam, radiant in a light blue dress, the maid of honor no one could have imagined years ago. The relationship between sisters had grown stronger especially with a new niece to babysit. She caught Y/N’s eye and winked, mouthing, Don’t you dare cry before she gets there.

Tara finally reached Y/N, the sand soft beneath their bare feet. The wind lifted a strand of hair across her face, and Y/N. tucked it gently behind her ear, her thumb brushing the faint shimmer of tears she pretended not to have.

“No more almosts,” Tara whispered, voice trembling.

“Never again,” Y/N said, and the words felt like a vow even before the ceremony began.

When they kissed laughter and saltwater filling the air, the tide crept closer, wrapping around their ankles. The guests cheered as a wave rolled over the hem of Tara’s dress, soaking it in white foam. She laughed, bright and unguarded, and Y/N kissed her again just to taste that sound.

A few feet away, Sam stood beside a woman with blonde curls and sun-browned skin — a travel nurse she’d met months ago at the hospital. Their fingers were intertwined, quiet and easy. When Y/N glanced their way, Sam raised her glass in a small salute, mouthing, Took your advice.

Y/N smiled, her chest swelling with peace.

The ceremony drifted into music and dancing. Their daughter squealed as she ran along the tide, her tiny footprints marking the sand, her stormy eyes reflecting both her mothers.

As twilight fell, Tara and Y/N walked hand in hand down the shoreline, their silhouettes soft against the fading gold.

Tara looked up at her wife, her voice barely a whisper over the waves. “We really made it.”

Y/N pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Yeah. We did.”

The ocean rolled in one last time, warm and endless, brushing against their feet as if sealing the promise for good.

Water at their wedding.

And everything after.

[iammickeymillz]

Water at Your Wedding: Chapter 10

A/N: Pairing: Tara Carpenter X Reader (G!P)

Summary: Rumors, closure and a new addition.

Everyone knew.

The whispers at the diner, the pointed stares when I went to grab coffee, the slow head turns when Tara walked into the pharmacy. Woodsboro was small, judgmental, and starved for gossip. We’d just handed them a scandal that would feed them for months.

I sat behind the counter at the hardware store, pretending to reorganize bolts while trying to drown out the sound of my own name echoing from the front.

“She’s back two months and already ruining marriages.”

“Poor Chad. That baby…who even knows?”

“She’s just like her father was in his twenties.”

My jaw tightened until it hurt. I wanted to scream that they didn’t know me. That love wasn’t some moral failing. But I knew better. You couldn’t reason with people who lived off rumor.

The bell over the door rang. I looked up and saw Sam.

Her expression was unreadable.

“You weren’t going to call me?” she asked quietly.

I rubbed my face with my hands. “Didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”

She leaned on the counter, crossing her arms. “You’re right. I didn’t. But I do still care about you. How are you holding up?”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

She cut me off with a bitter laugh. “No one ever means to. Look, I’m not mad at you for loving her. I’m mad that you let me be your distraction while you tried to convince yourself you didn’t.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Sam. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know,” she said, softer now. “But you did. And you’re going to have to live with that. Just like Tara has to live with her choices.”

Before I could reply, the door opened again…Tara.

Every conversation in the store stopped cold.

She walked straight up to me, ignoring the stares, her face pale but set with quiet resolve. “Can we go?”

“Yeah.”

We stepped outside together, but the air out there was worse. Neighbors whispering from porches, camera phones raised like they were waiting for us to explode.

Tara’s hand found mine. “Let them look,” she muttered, chin high.

“Are you sure?” I whispered.

Her grip tightened. “I’ve been hiding my whole life. Not anymore.”

When we got to my parents’ house, my mother opened the door before we even knocked.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, eyes darting between us. “They’re saying awful things.”

“I’m sure they are,” I muttered.

She sighed, stepping aside. “Well, come in. You’ll both eat, and then we’ll talk about how to survive the end of the world.”

I almost laughed, but it caught in my throat.

Because maybe she was right. Maybe this was the end of the world. At least the one we knew.

And yet, standing beside Tara, our fingers still intertwined, I realized that maybe endings weren’t always a tragedy.

Sometimes, they were the only way to begin again.

It didn’t take long for Chad to file for divorce. He hired the best attorney in the state.

When I got home, Tara was standing at the kitchen counter, envelope in hand, her face pinched tight with worry.

She hands me the torn envelope. Inside papers and a demand for a paternity test.

Tara’s hand flew to her mouth.

“He’s really doing this,” I muttered, flipping through the pages. “He’s going to drag it through court.”

“He’s trying to humiliate us,” Tara whispered. “Make us pay.”

Tara’s mother called, her mother’s voice shrill through the receiver. “You’ve ruined everything, Tara! The baby, your reputation. Do you have any idea what people are saying?”

Tara pressed the phone to her ear, silent tears streaming down her face. “I don’t care what they say, Mom. I’m done living for them.”

“You think this girl is going to save you? She’ll ruin you!”

Tara hung up mid-yell and sank onto the couch, trembling. I dropped beside her, pulling her into my arms.I kissed her temple, whispering against her hair. “You’re not alone. I got you.”

Her soft scared eyes lifted to meet mine. “You can’t protect me from everything, Y/N.”

“No,” I said. “But I’ll try anyway.”

And for the first time, I felt the full weight of what love really cost. Not just stolen moments or broken promises, but the fight that came after. The one where you had to stand tall while the world called you a villain.

We weren’t done falling. Not yet. But this time, we’d fall together.

I sat in the waiting room of the courthouse, leg bouncing, watching her through the glass partition as she spoke to her lawyer. She looked… different. Stronger. Her hair pulled back, eyes steady, wearing that soft green sweater I used to love. The same one she wore the first time I ever realized I was in love with her.

When she finally stepped out, she exhaled sharply. “It’s done,” she said, voice trembling but sure. “I filed for an annulment.”

The words landed like thunder.

“You sure?” I asked quietly.

She nodded. “We never really had a marriage. Just an arrangement built on lies. It’s time I stopped pretending.”

And for the first time since this whole mess began, it felt like hope. The rain came that night. Soft at first, barely a whisper on the roof, then steadier, washing the dust and tension off the world.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor of her old bedroom, folding baby clothes her mom had pulled from storage. Little onesies in neutral colors. A soft blanket with faded stars. It felt almost surreal, preparing for a future that finally had room to breathe.

Tara moved around the room barefoot, her hair damp from the shower, wearing one of Y/N’s oversized hoodies.

“You realize your mom’s already picked out a crib, right?” Tara teased, holding up a tiny stuffed fox.

Y/N chuckled. “Yeah. She’s been nesting harder than both of us combined.”

Tara smiled faintly, sitting beside her. For a moment, neither spoke. The silence wasn’t heavy anymore—it was gentle, like they were both learning how to exist in it again.

Y/N reached over, brushing her thumb against Tara’s hand. “How do you feel?”

Tara hesitated, her eyes on the rain tracing the window. “Lighter,” she admitted. “For the first time in years. I thought filing for the annulment would break me. But it feels like… starting over.”

“Starting over’s not so bad,” Y/N murmured. “It’s kind of our thing.”

Tara laughed softly. “Yeah. Except last time, we didn’t have a baby involved.”

The baby kicked then, right on cue, and both of them froze before bursting into quiet laughter. Tara guided Y/N’s hand to her stomach.

“She keeps doing that,” Tara said, voice trembling. “Every time I talk about you.”

Y/N swallowed hard, emotion thick in her throat. “Guess she’s got good taste.”

For a long moment, they stayed like that—foreheads touching, the world small and still around them. The storm outside hummed like background music, the house breathing with them.

Tara finally whispered, “You know they’re going to talk, right? The town, Chad’s family…”

“Let them,” Y/N said softly. “They’ve talked about us for months anyway. Might as well give them a story with a happy ending this time.”

Tara smiled, that old spark glinting behind her tired eyes. “You really think we can have that? A happy ending?”

Y/N leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think we’ve earned one.”

They sat together until the storm eased, rain fading into the rhythm of crickets and faraway thunder. Tara fell asleep first, her head resting on Y/N’s shoulder, her hand still over Y/N’s heart.

A few weeks later:

The hospital room hummed with a soft tension, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of antiseptic. Machines beeped in rhythm with Tara’s heartbeat as sweat glistened along her temple.

Y/N stood beside her, hands clasped around hers, voice calm despite the chaos in her chest. “Push,” she whispered, her tone steady but full of quiet urgency. “You got this, T.”

Tara’s face twisted with effort, a cry breaking from her throat. “I can’t”

“Yes, you can,” Y/N said, her thumb tracing the back of Tara’s hand, grounding her. “Look at me. Breathe. Just one more. You’re stronger than this pain.”

The faint tan line where Tara’s wedding ring used to be caught the fluorescent light. A mark almost gone like the shadow of a life she’d already outgrown.

“Alright, Tara,” the doctor’s voice cut in, calm and reassuring. “One last push.”

Tara gritted her teeth, Y/N whispering encouragements with every breath. And then suddenly the room filled with the sound of a new cry. High and sharp. Fragile and alive.

Y/N’s heart stopped.

The doctor smiled. “It’s a girl.”

Tara collapsed back into the pillows, tears streaming freely now. The nurse placed the baby against her chest, and everything—the pain, the noise, the heartbreak that led here melted into something sacred.

Y/N stood frozen, eyes wide. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Tara looked up at her, voice trembling but sure. “Come here,” she whispered.

Y/N stepped forward, afraid to blink as she looked down at the tiny bundle curled against Tara’s chest. The baby squirmed, her lips pursing, eyes blinking open for the first time.

And when Y/N saw them, those deep, stormy eyes, impossibly familiar, her breath caught.

“She has your eyes,” Tara said softly, watching Y/N’s expression shift from awe to disbelief.

Y/N’s throat tightened. But the truth was right there. The same color, the same quiet intensity. The same unspoken depth that Y/N had seen in the mirror her entire life.

Tara smiled through her tears. “Guess there’s no denying it now.”

Y/N chuckled and reached out a hand, brushing her fingers gently along the baby’s cheek. “Hey there, little one,” she murmured. “You really took the best parts of both of us, didn’t you?”

Tara leaned back, exhaustion softening her smile. “We did it,” she whispered.

Y/N met her gaze, tears streaking down her own face. “You did it.”

Tara shook her head faintly, eyes glimmering with affection. “No. We did.”

The baby sighed, her small hand flexing as though reaching for Y/N’s.

[iammickeymillz]

Water at Your Wedding: Chapter 9

A/N: Pairing: Tara Carpenter X Reader (G!P)

Summary: The morning after and a flashback. Something to hold you over while I write the final chapter(s).

Tara felt the warm arms wrapped around her and smiled. Although last night had been rough Y/N was still there. She snuggled a little closer until she heard a groan and felt Y/N harden against her.

Y/N stretched out her sore muscles and looked over at the clock. It was almost noon. She nibbled on Tara’s shoulder and whispered. “We can’t hide out here forever you know.”

“But it’s cozy and safe. Plus it doesn’t feel like your friend is ready to leave bed.”

Y/N blushes slightly.

“You’ve kinda always had that effect on me.”

Flashback High School Senior Year:

The music pulsed through the walls of Amber’s house, bass rattling the floorboards as red cups clinked and laughter filled the air. It was one of those nights that felt endless—where the air was thick with freedom, rebellion, and the faint tang of cheap vodka.

Tara Carpenter sat cross-legged on the carpet, cheeks flushed from both alcohol and laughter. Her dark eyes glimmered beneath the string lights that hung haphazardly across the living room. Across from her sat Y/N, leaning back on one hand, a crooked grin tugging at her lips.

“Let’s play truth or dare,” Tara challenged, her voice slightly slurred, playful.

Y/N raised a brow. “You’re brave tonight.”

“Always,” Tara shot back.

The group of friends who’d gathered cheered, half drunk and hungry for mischief.

Amber, already tipsy, leaned forward with a smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Alright, Y/N. Truth or dare.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, eyes flicking to Tara. “Dare,” she said finally.

Amber’s grin widened. “I dare you to kiss Tara. On the lips. For ten seconds.”

The room erupted in whoops and catcalls. Tara’s heart lurched, and she could feel every beat against her ribs. “Amber….” she started, but Amber just shrugged.

“C’mon, it’s a party. It’s a game. Don’t be shy.”

Y/N looked at Tara, her expression soft but unreadable. “Only if she’s okay with it.”

Tara swallowed hard, her pulse loud in her ears. “Yeah,” she said quietly, trying to sound casual. “It’s fine.”

The room hushed as Y/N leaned closer. The smell of vodka and mint gum lingered in the space between them. Tara’s breath caught just before their lips met.

The kiss started hesitant, slow, testing but the world seemed to tilt when Tara’s tongue slipped into Y/N’s mouth. The noise of the party faded into a hum. The spark between them—something both had danced around for years—flared into something real.

And then Amber’s voice cut through it. “Ten seconds!”

Laughter broke the spell. Tara pulled back quickly, forcing a smile. Y/N chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck.

“Guess the dare’s done,” Y/N said, though her eyes lingered longer than they should have.

Amber’s smirk was sharp, calculating. She leaned in, draping an arm around Tara’s shoulders. “You two looked cute. Shame it doesn’t mean anything, right?”

Tara stiffened under Amber’s touch. “Yeah. Just a game,” she said, but her voice faltered.

Later, when the party started to thin and the alcohol wore off, Tara found herself outside on the porch steps. The night air was cool, grounding.

Y/N joined her, holding out a bottle of water. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just… drunk.”

They sat in silence for a while, the crickets filling in the gaps.

“You know,” Y/N said softly, “that kiss…”

“Didn’t mean anything,” Tara interrupted too quickly, forcing a laugh. “Just a dare.”

Y/N nodded, looking down at her hands. “Right. Just a dare.”

But neither of them believed it.

And when Tara glanced back through the window, she caught Amber’s eyes on them—sharp, possessive, and full of something that looked a lot like warning.

The place smelled like spilled beer, smoke, and the faint sweetness of perfume. Empty bottles littered the coffee table.

Y/N stirred first, groaning as she rubbed her eyes. Her head throbbed, but the real ache came when last night came rushing back. The kiss. Tara’s lips. The look in her eyes before they both laughed it off. Y/N felt the weight of someone’s body practically on top of her as she awoke on the couch. She shifted slowly, and saw the dark hair fanning over her chest.

“Tara” she grumbled. Sleep still heavily coating her voice.

Tara only moved slightly but just enough to trigger a reaction. Y/N felt herself growing harder. A moan slipping from her mouth.

Tara awoke at the sound and sleepily smiled at Y/N. Her eyes widen and Y/N rolls over causing them both to fall to the floor with a loud thud. Y/N scans the room and rushes to the closest bathroom.

Tara was in the kitchen, standing barefoot in one of Amber’s oversized shirts, pouring coffee with shaky hands.

Y/N hesitated before walking in, her heart stuttering. “Morning,” she said quietly.

Tara looked up, offering a faint, nervous smile. “Hey. You survived.”

“Barely.” Y/N leaned against the counter. “Listen, about last night”

Tara’s laugh came too fast, too loud. “Oh my god, the dare? Don’t worry about it. Totally harmless.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened. “Right. Just a game.”

“Exactly,” Tara said, forcing a brightness that didn’t reach her eyes. “We were drunk. It was stupid.”

Y/N nodded, trying to mirror the same easy tone, but her chest felt heavy. “Yeah. Stupid.”

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.

And then Amber entered, hair tied up, smirking as she grabbed a mug from the counter. “Well, well. Look who’s having their morning-after coffee.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “Amber, stop.”

“What?” Amber said, all faux innocence. “I just think it’s cute that you two are still blushing over a dare. Though I guess for some people, even pretend feelings feel real.”

Tara’s face flushed. “It wasn’t like that.”

Amber sipped her coffee, eyes flicking between them. “Good. Because you’re not her type anyway.”

Y/N’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t take the bait. “Thanks for clearing that up,” she said flatly.

Amber tilted her head, smiling just enough to sting. “Anytime.”

Y/N left soon after, tossing a casual “See you at school” over her shoulder, though her voice betrayed the twist in her gut.

As soon as the door shut, Tara turned on Amber. “What the hell was that?”

Amber shrugged. “Just making sure you don’t do something you’ll regret.”

“Like what?”

Amber’s gaze softened for a moment, but it was gone too fast to read. “You don’t belong tangled up with her, Tara. She’ll only break your heart.”

Tara crossed her arms. “And you know that how?”

Amber stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from Tara’s face. “Because I know you better than she ever will.”

Tara froze. The air between them went still.

Their relationship changed after that night. A silent distance. Less texts and meetups. So when Y/N left after graduation she didn’t reach out until New York.

[iammickeymillz]

Water at Your Wedding: Chapter 8

Pairing: Tara Carpenter X Reader (G!P)

Summary: A confrontation and some relief. Sorry for the delay…

The highway stretched ahead in long, white lines, trees rushing past like a blur. I gripped the steering wheel tighter than I should’ve, knuckles pale against the leather. Tara sat in the passenger seat, my hand resting on her belly, as hers were tapping a restless rhythm against her thigh.

We hadn’t spoken much since leaving Woodsboro. Words felt dangerous, like if either of us said the wrong thing the moment we’d stolen back would dissolve.

“Are you okay?” I finally asked, glancing sideways.

Her lips pressed together before she answered. “I don’t know. I keep thinking about his face when I tell him.”

“He deserves the truth.”

“I know. But knowing it and saying it…” Her voice trailed off. She turned to look out the window.

I hesitated, then set my hand gently over hers. “You’re not alone.”

She let out a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around mine for just a second before she pulled away, like she couldn’t quite allow herself the comfort.

“Do you remember senior year?” she asked suddenly.

I blinked. “Which part?”

“When we snuck into the football field at midnight. You said you were gonna run away after graduation. That you couldn’t breathe in Woodsboro anymore.”

A hollow laugh slipped out. “Yeah. And you told me I was dramatic.”

“I told you that because I didn’t want you to go,” she said softly.

Silence filled the car again, heavier this time.

“I did go,” I said after a moment. “And I tried to build a life that didn’t revolve around you. But here I am, driving you to tell your husband you’re in love with me.”

Tara’s head fell back against the seat. “You make it sound reckless.”

“It is reckless.” My throat tightened. “But maybe it’s the only thing that ever made sense.”

The GPS announced the exit ahead, snapping us both out of it. My stomach lurched. Soon this wouldn’t be stolen moments and half-truths. Soon it would be messy, irreversible, real.

Tara sat up straighter, rubbing her belly like she could draw strength from the baby.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

“No,” she whispered, but then she looked at me, eyes burning with a mix of fear and something deeper. “But I need to be.”

I nodded, pulling off the highway. My hands were shaking, but I kept driving.

Whatever waited for us on the other side, at least we’d gotten this far together.

The hotel smelled faintly of chlorine and cheap cologne. Tara walked beside me down the hallway, her heartbeat thundering louder than her footsteps. She’d asked me to stay back when she knocked on his door, but the second we reached the floor something inside me screamed that I couldn’t let her face this alone.

We turned the corner just in time to see Chad lift his fist and knock two times on a door.

It opened almost immediately.

Amber Freeman stood there, hair mussed, robe tied loosely at her waist. She leaned against the frame, lips curling into a smile that evaporated the second she noticed Tara standing down the hall.

My jaw clenched. Of all people.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tara’s voice cracked, raw and sharp as broken glass.

Chad spun around, his face paling before the anger crept in. And then he saw me. His nostrils flared. “Of course. Of course you’d bring her.”

I stepped forward anyway, sliding in beside Tara. “Guess I’m not the only one with secrets, Chad.”

Amber rolled her eyes, muttering, “Well, this is awkward.”

“Shut up, Amber,” Tara snapped, her voice shaking.

Chad dragged a hand down his face, then looked right at Tara. “Fine. You caught me. I’ve been seeing Amber. You happy now? At least I’m not hiding it behind some half-baked sob story.” His eyes cut to me like a blade. “How long have you and my wife been screwing? Don’t think I don’t know.”

Tara gasped, but I kept my eyes locked on him, refusing to flinch.

“You’re disgusting,” Tara spat. “And you want to talk about honesty?

His laugh was bitter. “Please. Just tell me, Tara. Is that kid even mine?”

The words hung in the air like smoke. My stomach dropped.

Tara’s chin trembled, but her voice was steady. “No. She’s not.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Chad’s face twisted, shock bleeding into rage, then into something hollow. Finally, he shook his head. “Then we’re done. Divorced. Don’t call me. Don’t drag me into this.”

He slammed the door hard enough to rattle the frame.

Tara crumpled into my arms, shaking, her tears soaking into my shirt. I whispered against her hair, “It’s over now. It’s done.”

But the door creaked open again, and Amber stepped into the hallway, arms crossed. She gave me a slow once-over, smirk tugging at her lips. “Guess I should thank you.”

I look at her. Confusion written on my face. “You do remember that we hated each other in high school, right? You practically bullied me.”

“And look how you turned out. Kinda cute.”Amber snorted.

I blinked, caught off guard.

“And you also made sure Tara and I never got together.”

I leaned back against the wall, tired but unwilling to let her get the last word. “Looks like it didn’t work.”

Her smirk faltered, just for a second, before she turned and disappeared back inside.

Tara gripped my hand tighter, her voice breaking. “Can we go? Please.”

And for the first time in years, I knew she was asking me to take her somewhere that wasn’t just away from him but closer to me.

The drive back to Woodsboro was a blur. Tara stared out the window, silent except for the occasional sharp breath like she was reminding herself she could still breathe. I kept my focus on the road, but my pulse was a drumbeat in my ears, each mile marker pulling us tighter and tighter.

When we finally reached my apartment, she followed me upstairs without a word. The moment the door shut behind us, the silence broke.

“He knew,” Tara said, pacing like a caged animal. “He knew about us. About you. And he was still…” She broke off, voice cracking.

I stepped toward her. “Tara”

Her eyes snapped up to mine, wet and furious. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to say it out loud? That I love you? That it was always you?”

I froze, breath catching in my chest.

And then she was kissing me.

It wasn’t gentle this time. It wasn’t cautious. It was desperate, angry, hungry. Years of stolen glances and unsaid words combusting all at once. My back hit the wall as she pressed against me, her hands tangled in my hair, mine sliding down the curve of her waist.

“Tara” I tried, half against her lips, half pleading with myself. “We should…”

“I don’t care,” she whispered fiercely, pulling me closer. “I need this. I need you.”

Her confession broke me wide open. I kissed her back, pouring every ounce of guilt, fear, and longing into it. The taste of salt from her tears mixed with the heat of her mouth, and for a moment nothing else existed…not Chad, not the town, not the mess waiting for us tomorrow.

Only her.

Her lips were intoxicating and I was getting drunker every second.

We stumbled toward the bed, hands greedy, clothes tugged and half-forgotten. Every touch was a claim, every sigh a release. When her body pressed against mine, the baby shifted between us, a quiet reminder of everything at stake. But instead of pulling me out of the moment, it only made me hold her tighter.

As I kiss down her body I linger over her pregnant stomach. Between kisses, I whispered, “We’re reckless.”

She grips the back of my head. “Then let’s burn.”

I feel myself get lost in her scent and taste.

Time lost meaning. The storm inside us finally spilled over, crashing into something we couldn’t control and didn’t want to.

And when it was over—when we were tangled together in the sheets, skin damp, hearts hammering. I realized the storm had quieted. Not gone. But quieter.

Tara’s head rested against my chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles against my ribs.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered, so soft I almost missed it.

My arms tightened around her. I didn’t answer. Not yet. But I didn’t let go, either.

[iammickeymillz]

Water at Your Wedding: Chapter 7

Pairing: Tara Carpenter X Reader (G!P)

Summary: The morning after…

The room was quiet except for Sam’s steady breathing. Dawn spilled in through the blinds, pale and unforgiving.

I slipped out from under the sheets, moving slow, careful not to wake her. My clothes were scattered across the floor, a minefield of bad decisions. I pulled on my jeans, grabbed my shirt, and paused just long enough to glance back at her.

She looked peaceful. Like none of this was complicated.

My chest tightened with guilt.

I eased the door shut behind me and stepped into the morning air, the world too bright for how heavy I felt. My head pounded, my stomach churned, but nothing hit harder than the sight waiting in the hallway.

Tara.

Her eyes locked on me, widening as they traveled down the wrinkled shirt, the messy hair, the smear of lipstick that wasn’t mine. Her expression was unreadable, part devastation, part fury, part something I couldn’t name.

I froze, but before I could speak, she turned and walked straight toward Sam’s door.

I didn’t follow. I couldn’t.

Tara didn’t knock. She pushed her way into Sam’s apartment, heart hammering.

Sam stumbled into the living room in only a T-shirt, hair mussed, eyes heavy with sleep. “Jesus, Tara. Ever heard of privacy?”

Tara’s throat tightened, but she forced herself to speak. “We need to talk. About y/N.”

Sam arched a brow, smirking despite herself. “You mean about the fact she left here ten minutes ago?”

Tara flinched. “Don’t. Please.” Her voice cracked. “I can’t. This isn’t a game.”

Sam’s smirk faded, replaced by something softer. “Alright. Talk.”

“I’ve loved her since high school,” Tara admitted, the words tumbling out like broken glass. “I didn’t say it then because I was scared. And maybe I still am. But I can’t pretend anymore. Not when she could be the father of my baby.”

Sam’s eyes widened, arms crossing as if to steady herself.

“Does she know?”

“She suspects,” Tara whispered. “But I need her. And I need you.”

Sam scoffed. “Need me for what, exactly?”

“To be my sister. Not my enemy.” Tara stepped closer, desperation in her eyes. “I can’t lose her, Sam. But I can’t lose you either. Tell me what to do. Please.”

Sam studied her for a long moment, torn between anger and loyalty, jealousy and blood. Finally, she sighed, dragging a hand through her hair.

“You’re asking me to help you win the girl who just slept with me?”

Tara winced. “I’m asking you to help me not destroy what’s left of us.”

The silence between them was raw, fragile.

Meanwhile, I was back at my apartment, shoving clothes into a duffel like the walls were closing in.

I’d been in Woodsboro way longer than planned. It was supposed to be a pit stop, a favor to my dad until he got back on his feet. Now he was healthy, back at the hardware store, and I had no reason to stay.

Except her. Except both of them.

I zipped the bag too hard, the sound cutting through the quiet like an ending.

Leaving was the only thing that made sense. The only way to stop tearing open old wounds and carving new ones.

But as I slung the bag over my shoulder, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. One name lit up the screen.

Tara.

I glide my finger over the screen and press ignore. I’m halfway through stuffing another pair of jeans into my duffel when the knock came. Three sharp raps. Before I could answer, the door swung open.

Sam.

She looked like she’d barely had time to throw on a hoodie, hair wild, eyes dark.

“You weren’t going to tell me?” she snapped. “About the baby?”

My chest went tight. “Sam”

“No,” she cut in, stepping forward. “You let me fall for you. You slept with me last night knowing my sister might be carrying your child.”

I flinched. “You knew,” I shot back, louder than I meant to. “You knew I loved your sister and you still pursued me.”

Her mouth opened, then shut.

“We both screwed up,” I said, voice breaking. “And I’m sorry. For what it’s worth.”

Silence stretched between us, raw and jagged.

“I’m leaving,” I added, softer now. “Before I hurt anyone else.”

I slip past her with my duffle bag swinging from my shoulder.

Sam’s throat worked like she was trying to swallow something sharp. Finally, she pulled out her phone, eyes glistening as she dialed.

“Tara,” she said when the line clicked. “She’s leaving.”

Tara’s heart was still pounding when she reached my apartment. She took the stairs two at a time, but the door was already open, the rooms stripped of anything that belonged to me.

She spun around, panic clawing up her throat, and ran to the one place she knew I’d go. To my parents’.

My mom opened the door, taking one look at Tara’s face. She didn’t say a word. She just stepped aside, opening the door wide enough for our eyes to meet.

“Let’s give them some privacy,” she murmured, slipping past Tara to disappear into the kitchen.

Tara stepped inside. I stood frozen in the living room, duffel still in my hand.

“You’re leaving,” she said quietly.

“It’s for the best,” I replied. “I can’t be the one that ruins your life.”

Her chin trembled, but her voice stayed steady. “Do I get a say in this?”

“No.” My fingers tightened on the strap of the bag. “It hurts too much to see you with him. I’m having anxiety attacks. Something I haven’t had in the past two years since I was in New York.”

Her brow furrowed. “Wait… when were you in New York?”

I swallowed hard. “I came to see you. I… saw you with Chad. You never knew I was there.”

Tara’s eyes shone. “Then answer the question that keeps lingering between us. Are you in love with me?”

“Yes.” The word cracked out of me. “But…”

“No buts.” She stepped closer. “Because I’m in love with you too.”

My breath hitched. “Where do we go from here?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “But we can only figure it out if you stay.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Then let’s stop hiding behind the almosts.”

And then she kissed me. Soft at first, cautious, like testing the edges of something fragile. Then it deepened years of longing pulling us closer, neither of us willing to let go.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathless, foreheads pressed together.

The baby kicked between us. I felt it, a flutter, tiny but certain.

“See?” Tara murmured, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Even she wants you to stay.”

I laughed, a broken sound. “What about Chad?”

“I have to tell him,” she said. “He’s on a business trip not too far from here.”

“I’m not letting you go alone.”

“You can drive,” she said gently. “But I need to have the conversation alone. I owe him that much.”

I closed my eyes, my forehead still against hers. “Okay.”

For the first time in years, the word felt like a promise.

[iammickeymillz]

Water at Your Wedding: Chapter 6

Pairing: Tara Carpenter X Reader (G!P)

Summary: Y/N finally realizes which sister she wants but things don’t go as planned.

The next morning :

The dawn slipped faintly through my blinds, soft but merciless. I sat on the edge of the bed, dreams still clinging like cobwebs behind my half-asleep eyes.

Sam or Tara.

Sam was the logical choice single, magnetic, and most importantly, interested. Tara was my first love, the possible mother of my child, and maybe interested… but still very married.

A choice had to be made, but the damage and fallout would ripple for miles. Reality was cruel.

The sun climbed higher, unforgiving. I pulled on a sweater and left the apartment, needing the only people who could make sense of the chaos: my parents.

The walk was brutal. Whispers hissed from doorways, dirty looks trailed behind me. Gossip had a way of spreading fast, but this was wildfire.

I barely knocked before the door swung open. My father pulled me into a tight hug, his familiar cologne grounding me.

“So you heard?” I mumbled into his shoulder.

“The entire town has heard,” he said grimly.

My mother appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, shaking her head like I was still sixteen. “Your timing has always been impeccable.”

“Gee, thanks,” I muttered, pulling away.

She gave me that look, the one that stripped me bare. “Why didn’t you tell Tara in high school how you felt?”

My jaw dropped. “Wait… you both knew?”

Dad chuckled, bittersweet. “Everyone knew. Except the two people clearly in love, tap-dancing around it.”

Mom softened, slipping her hand into mine. “Come on. Let’s eat some breakfast and figure out what you’re going to do.”

Over coffee and eggs, I spilled everything—the messy nights with Sam, the kisses with Tara, the possibility that they might actually be grandparents soon.

When the words finally emptied out of me, Mom leaned forward, eyes sharp and kind all at once. “Stop trying to do what’s best for everyone else. What do you want? What is that fragile heart of yours telling you?”

“I don’t know.” My voice cracked.

Dad studied me, quiet, then asked, “If Tara wasn’t married, would this decision be easier? Would it be her?”

The answer came before I could stop it. “Yes.”

Silence stretched, heavy but clear.

Mom smiled sadly, reaching across the table. “Then I think you know.”

The answer had been too easy. Too true. And now I had no idea what to do with it.

I cut through Main Street, keeping my eyes down, but of course fate had other plans.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” a voice drawled.

I froze before I even turned. Mindy. Chad’s sister. The one who’d spent high school making a sport out of beating me in debate tournaments and flirting with the same girls I liked, just to prove she could win.

“Mindy,” I said flatly, already bracing myself.

She leaned against the doorway of the coffee shop, arms crossed, her grin as sharp as it had ever been. “Didn’t think you’d show your face after last night.”

I forced a shrug. “Town gossip travels fast. I’m not surprised.”

“Oh, honey, gossip doesn’t travel here. It sprints.” She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. “So what’s the plan? You gonna play homewrecker now? Sneak into my brother’s marriage next time he’s away on business?”

Her words hit like stones. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, but I do.” She pushed off the wall and closed the space between us. “I’ve seen the way Tara looks at you. Like she’s starving. And I’ve seen the way you look at her like you’d burn the whole damn town down if it meant having her. Or maybe just burn down both of your lives.”

My jaw clenched, pulse roaring in my ears. “Watch it.”

“Relax,” she smirked, though her eyes glittered with something more serious. “I’m not here to judge. God knows Chad’s made his share of mistakes. But let me give you a little advice.”

I raised a brow, wary. “This should be good.”

“Don’t pretend you’re the hero in this story. You think you’re swooping in to rescue her, but the truth is… you’ll destroy her. And yourself. And that kid she’s carrying? You’ll be nothing more than a shadow in the background.”

The words gutted me, but I kept my face still. Emotionless.

She smirked again, satisfied with the silence she carved out of me. “Careful, Y/N. You’re playing a dangerous game. And you’ve never been good at losing.”

With that, she breezed past me, the scent of espresso and sharp perfume trailing in her wake.

I stood frozen on the sidewalk, fists tight in my pockets, the truth and the threat of it weighing like lead in my chest.

Mindy’s words clung to me like smoke long after she was gone.

You’ll destroy her. You’ll never be the hero.

I walked. Didn’t matter where. Past storefronts, past old neighbors whispering behind coffee cups, past the mural on Main Street I once helped paint in high school. My body was moving but my brain wouldn’t shut off.

She was right. Wasn’t she?

Tara deserved stability, not a walking disaster with half a hardware degree and a whiskey problem. And Sam—God, Sam—at least with her I knew what I was getting. Heat. Passion. Someone who didn’t flinch when she looked at me. Someone who didn’t belong to anyone else.

But when I closed my eyes, it was always Tara’s face I saw. Always her.

My chest tightened, breath going shallow. The edges of the world blurred, colors melting into each other. I ducked into the first alley I saw and pressed my back against the brick, trying to count my way out of the panic clawing at my ribs.

“One… two… three…” My voice cracked. “Four…”

It didn’t work. It never really did.

“Get it together,” I whispered to myself, but the words rang hollow.

By the time I stumbled out of the alley, the sun had dipped low. My feet carried me where I always went when the world got too heavy… straight to the bar.

Sam was there, like she’d been waiting. She smirked as I slid onto the stool beside her, but her eyes softened when she saw my face.

“Whiskey?” she asked.

“Make it two.”

Her hand brushed mine as the bartender poured. And for the first time all day, I let myself stop fighting.

The first glass burned on the way down. The second went smoother. By the third, I stopped tasting altogether.

Sam didn’t push, didn’t pry. She just sat there, elbow against the bar, her sharp eyes softening every time they slid to me.

“You look like hell,” she said finally.

“Thanks,” I muttered. “Really needed that confidence boost.”

Her lips curved into a half-smile. “Didn’t say it wasn’t a good look.”

I met her gaze, the air between us sparking. Sam had always been fire, dangerous, magnetic, impossible to ignore. And tonight, fire didn’t sound half bad.

“Why do you do this?” I asked. “Why bother with me?”

She leaned in, close enough that I caught the faint scent of her perfume—warm, dark, nothing like Tara’s sweetness. “Because I see you. And I’m not afraid of what I see.”

Something in my chest cracked.

Her fingers brushed over mine, tentative but sure, and when I didn’t pull away, she closed the space. The kiss hit like lightning—fast, hungry, a dare and a promise all at once.

I let her. God help me, I kissed her back.

By the time we broke apart, the bar had gone quiet around us. My pulse roared louder than any jukebox could.

“Let’s get out of here,” she whispered.

I should’ve said no. Should’ve remembered Tara’s eyes at the altar, the whisper in the bathroom I hope they have your kind eyes. But instead I nodded, following Sam out into the cool night air, heat still buzzing on my lips.

Her place was smaller than I imagined—half-packed boxes stacked by the door, like she never meant to stay long. But it didn’t matter. The moment the door shut behind us, she had me pinned against it, her mouth crashing into mine like she’d been holding back for years.

“Sam” I tried to speak, but she swallowed the word with another kiss.

My hands found her waist, her hair, the curve of her back. Everything about her screamed present, urgent, alive.

When we finally slowed, her forehead pressed to mine, she whispered, “You deserve someone who chooses you without hesitation. Not someone who hides behind vows and excuses.”

Her words sank deep, but so did the warmth of her touch. For the first time in weeks, maybe years, I felt wanted without doubt.

Her nails dug into my back leaving reminders that would burn in the morning as her tongue traced circles on my neck. I pull her shirt over her head as she reaches for my belt buckle.

I closed my eyes, letting myself drown in her, even if it was only for tonight.

[iammickeymillz]

Water at Your Wedding: Chapter 5

Pairing: Tara Carpenter X Reader (G!P)

Summary: Things come to a head and Y/N is stuck between the two sisters

The school gym glittered with string lights and championship banners, all sweetness on the surface, gossip simmering underneath. Woodsboro lived for nights like this.

I shouldn’t have come. But Dad insisted it was “good for business” if the store showed face at the charity event.

Sam was already holding court at the bar when I arrived, black dress hugging every curve and taunting me. She slid a whiskey down the counter before I could refuse.

“Didn’t think you’d show,” she teased.

I took a sip, the burn grounding me. “Don’t push it.”

Her smirk sharpened. “Why not? You didn’t seem to mind last time.”

The kiss. My stomach flipped. I’d spent days trying to forget the heat of her mouth, the way my body betrayed me. But it wasn’t her kiss that haunted me most.

It was Tara’s.

The soft press of lips in her living room, her hand trembling against my cheek, the taste of a future neither of us could admit out loud.

I was drowning in both of them, and Sam knew it.

The room shifted. Tara walked in on Chad’s arm, her growing belly impossible to hide now. She looked breathtaking but a hint of sadness showed in her eyes.

Her eyes swept the room until they found me.

And then they found Sam, sitting too close, smiling too wide.

Her jaw clenched. She whispered something to Chad, but he didn’t catch it. He was too busy shaking hands, puffing his chest as if this event was for him.

Tara didn’t waste time. She marched straight toward us, fire in her steps.

“Can we talk?” Her voice was low, cutting. Her eyes darted to Sam.

Sam leaned back, all smug confidence. “By all means.”

“I meant alone.”

Sam’s smirk widened, but she didn’t move. “Personally I think she’d rather be alone with me.”

Tara’s breath hitched.

“Sam,” I warned, panic lacing my tone.

But Sam only grinned, loving the chaos. “Oh, she didn’t tell you? How sweet.”

Tara’s hand balled into a fist at her side.

“The kiss we shared was mmm… earth shattering. Her body pressed against mine.” Sam’s voice dropped, razor-sharp. “And I know you still want her. And I know you can’t stand the fact that she doesn’t belong to you anymore.”

The words cracked across the room. Conversations faltered, the crowd buzzing with hushed whispers.

Tara’s cheeks flushed scarlet, tears threatening but never falling.

I wanted to disappear. To deny everything. But I couldn’t, not when both of them stared at me like I was the breaking point.

“Enough,” I muttered, voice rough.

But Tara’s voice cut through mine, trembling but fierce. “Just answer me this, Y/N.”

The whole room held its breath.

“Do you still love me?”

The room blurred. Too many eyes, too much heat. Tara’s words echoed like a gunshot.

Do you still love me?

My chest constricted. I couldn’t breathe.

“I—I can’t” My voice cracked.

Sam’s smirk faltered. Tara’s eyes widened.

The walls closed in, string lights spinning above me. My hand gripped the bar, but it didn’t steady me. The edges of the room frayed until all I could hear was my own pulse pounding in my ears.

Someone said my name. Then again. But it was muffled, like I was underwater.

Flashback: Four Years Ago, New York City.

Snow clung to my jacket as I climbed the stairs of her brownstone, nerves alive in my chest. I’d flown across the country on a whim, convinced I could fix what distance and silence had broken.

The plan was simple: knock on her door, tell her the truth, finally say I love you.

But then I saw her.

Through the uneven blinds, Tara sat at a tiny table, laughter spilling into the glow of lamplight. Across from her sat the high school jock. The one girls would giggle about in the hallway. Chad.

He leaned over, kissed her cheek. She blushed, the same way she used to when we’d sneak glances in high school.

I froze. My whole world stopped.

My fists clenched at my sides, the words I’d rehearsed dissolving into the cold air.

I turned away, snow crunching under my boots, my breath hitching in my throat. She never saw me. She never knew.

And I never told her.

Back in the gym

The memory collided with the present, sharper than glass. My lungs refused to expand, panic tearing through me.

“Y/N!” Sam’s voice, closer now.

I staggered, the floor tilting. Tara reached out instinctively, her hand brushing my arm, and that simple touch anchored me for a split second.

But it wasn’t enough.

“I—I need—air,” I choked, stumbling toward the doors. Conversations swirled behind me, the gossip storm already brewing.

Outside, the night was cold, sharp. I collapsed against the brick wall, sucking in ragged breaths, clutching my chest like I could hold myself together.

The door creaked open.

Tara stood there, moonlight painting her pale. Her face was soft with worry, but her hand rested protectively on her belly, a reminder of everything between us.

Behind her, Sam’s shadow lingered in the doorway, torn between pushing and protecting.

Two sisters. Two truths.

And me, gasping for air in the middle of them both.

The night air snapped against my skin, harsh and unrelenting. I doubled over, dragging air into my lungs, trying to will my body to remember how to breathe.

“Y/N,” Tara whispered, stepping closer. Her hand hovered, torn between comfort and restraint. Her face glowed under the string lights that spilled from the gym. For a heartbeat, I wanted nothing more than to collapse into her arms.

But then Sam pushed through the doorway, fierce and unapologetic. “Back up, Tara. She doesn’t need more confusion right now.”

The sharpness in her voice cut through the haze. My chest heaved, eyes darting between the two sisters. Both staring at me like I was something worth breaking into pieces over.

“Tara,” Sam warned, “you had your chance. You made your choices. Don’t you dare”

“Don’t I dare?” Tara’s voice cracked like a whip, but her hand was still pressed to her stomach, protective, soft. “You don’t understand. You never did.”

“I understand enough,” Sam shot back. Her gaze flicked to me, softer now. “She needs someone who can actually be here. Not someone who’s already halfway gone.”

My knees threatened to buckle. “Stop,” I whispered, though it came out hoarse. “Please… just stop.”

The two of them froze, guilt flashing across their features. For once, the air between them was silence.

I backed away, shaking my head. “I can’t do this right now.” And before either could follow, I slipped into the night, letting the dark swallow me whole.

[iammickeymillz]

Water at Your Wedding: Chapter 4

Pairing: Tara Carpenter X Reader (G!P)

Summary: Sam and Y/N are getting closer but so is Tara and Y/N. It’s getting messy

Three months later:

Woodsboro looked the same. It always did. Same cracked sidewalks, same neon sign flickering outside the bar, same gossip looping through town like a song that never ends.

But Tara was different.

She was showing now. Her round belly under a soft blue sweater, a hand unconsciously resting there every few minutes. She glowed in the way pregnant women sometimes do.

From across the hardware store, I caught her watching me. She’d come in with Chad, he was talking to my dad, something about putting the crib together.

But Tara? Her eyes stayed locked on me.

We didn’t say a word. Couldn’t. But the silence between us was louder than anything Chad droned on about.

When she left, she glanced over her shoulder one last time. The smallest look. Enough to ruin the rest of my day.

Sam, on the other hand, wasn’t subtle.

She was in the hardware store more often than paying customers. Claiming she was “helping out,” though half the time she perched on the counter with a soda, teasing me until I snapped.

“You know, people are starting to talk,” I muttered one afternoon, stacking boxes of nails.

She grinned. “Let them. I like keeping you on your toes.”

“Sam” I say her name curtly.

“What? Afraid if they think we’re a thing, Tara will get jealous?”

I froze.

Sam’s smile softened. She hopped down, stepping into my space. “You’re not over her. I get it. But she’s… she’s married. Pregnant. She’s living a life you can’t be part of. Will never be apart of.”

Her fingers brushed mine as she handed me a box. It was nothing. It was everything.

I hated how much my body reacted to her nearness, how easy it was to lean into Sam when Tara felt galaxies away.

That night, Sam and I ended up at the bar again. Whiskey burned warm in my chest, loosening the edges I usually kept locked tight.

Sam leaned close, her knee brushing mine under the table. “Tell me something honest.”

I shook my head. “Dangerous game.”

“C’mon. One truth.”

I exhaled. “Fine. Sometimes I think I’ll never stop loving her.”

Sam’s smirk faltered. For once, she didn’t fire back a sharp retort. She just looked at me, raw and unguarded.

Then she leaned in, voice low enough to be mistaken for a prayer. “Then maybe you try moving on.”

I didn’t kiss her.

But I thought about it. All the way home.

And when I finally fell asleep, it wasn’t Sam I dreamed of. It was Tara. Standing in my apartment saying all the words I’d always wanted to hear.

A week later:

The fall festival lit up Main Street, all orange lanterns and the smell of kettle corn and funnel cake in the air. Kids darted between hay bales, and Chad strutted around with Tara like he was Mayor of Woodsboro.

I only came because Sam dragged me. She had this way of tugging me out of hiding, even when I didn’t want to be seen.

We stood near the cider booth, Sam sipping hers slow, her eyes scanning me like she was measuring just how much she could push tonight.

“You need to stop looking at her like that,” she said finally.

I stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her smirk said otherwise. “You do. And so does she. Everyone sees it, Y/N. Everyone but Chad.”

Oh trust me he sees it always has. I thought.

Before I could bite back, Tara appeared. She had that glow again, one hand on her stomach, the other curled around a paper cup of cider.

“Hey.” Her voice was softer than I expected.

“Hey.”

For a moment, it was just us. The rest of the festival blurred out.

Sam noticed. And instead of walking away, she slid closer, her arm looping through my own. “We were just talking about the band. They’re good tonight.”

Tara’s eyes flicked to where Sam’s arm lingered. Her mouth pressed into a line. Jealousy rolled off her like smoke.

I cleared my throat. “I, uh think I’m going to get some funnel cake.”

Sam followed me away from the crowd. “She hates seeing me next to you. You caught that, right?”

“Sam, don’t.”

“You think I’m making it up? Y/N, she’s married, pregnant, sure, but she’s not over you. And you’re definitely not over her.”

Her words cracked something open in me.

“Stop,” I muttered.

But she didn’t. She stepped right into my space, brown eyes daring me. “Maybe if you let yourself feel something with me, she wouldn’t haunt you so damn much.”

And before I could react, Sam kissed me.

It was heat and challenge and cider and everything reckless I’d tried to bury. My body betrayed me, leaning in just enough before I pulled back.

“Sam…”

She smirked, breathless. “You didn’t hate it.”

I didn’t. God help me, I didn’t.

Later, after the festival wound down, I found myself near the churchyard, alone…until I wasn’t.

Tara was there, standing under the oak, the moonlight silvering her face.

“You let her kiss you.” It wasn’t a question.

I froze. “You saw?”

Her laugh was soft, bitter. “Small town. Eyes everywhere.”

We stood in silence until she stepped closer, her hand brushing against mine. The touch was innocent. The feeling wasn’t.

“You don’t belong to her,” Tara whispered.

I swallowed hard. “And you don’t belong to me.”

Her eyes shimmered with something between ache and defiance. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

The words hung between us, dangerous, electric.

And when she rested her hand over her stomach, my breath caught.

Because in that moment, I wanted nothing more than her lips on mine.

A few days later, Tara walked into the store alone.

“Hey. Is there something I can help you with?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

She smirked. “Little cordial, aren’t you?”

I shrugged and followed her to the paint section.

“What color do you think will go well in a girl’s room? And don’t say pink.”

The word stuck in my throat. “You’re… having a girl?”

Her lips pressed together like she wished she could pull the secret back in. But she nodded.

I forced a breath, turning to the wall of samples. “Congratulations.” The word barely made it out.

My fingers landed on a swatch. “How about teal? You could add a little glitter to brighten it up.”

When she didn’t answer, I glanced over. The sadness etched across her face nearly undid me. But just as quick, she smoothed it over, putting the mask back on.

“What are you doing this weekend?” she asked.

I frowned. “Why?”

“Chad has a business trip. I want the baby’s room painted before he gets back.”

I hesitated. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Your husband isn’t exactly my biggest fan.”

She reached out, fingers closing around my hand. “Please.”

Saturday Morning:

I paced the sidewalk like a fool, muttering every reason I shouldn’t be there—and the one reason I wanted to be. If any neighbors peeked out, I probably looked unhinged. Maybe I was.

Tara cleared her throat from the porch. The second our eyes met, my feet carried me forward before my brain could stop them.

She led me to the nursery. The crib Chad had bragged to my father about was still half-built, pieces scattered across the floor. I spread plastic and started taping corners, slipping into a rhythm to avoid thinking too much.

When I poured the paint into the tray, I reminded her she shouldn’t stay in the fumes. She just smiled and lingered anyway.

Hours passed. Paint smudged my denim overalls, streaks of teal climbing my arms. I was bent over the roller when she appeared in the doorway.

“Do you want something to drink?” she asked.

“Water’s fine.”

She tilted her head. “As much as you’ve been drinking with Sam, I thought you only took whiskey.”

The jab caught me off guard. “Do you have a problem with me hanging out with Sam?”

Her eyes flickered, softer than her words. “Maybe I just… miss you.”

She left before I could answer.

I stared at the nursery walls, teal and glowing, the crib waiting to be finished. The ache in my chest hollowed me out. I wanted it to be mine. I wanted to be the one rocking her baby girl to sleep.

Later, I found Tara fast asleep on the couch, one hand resting protectively on her belly.

I knelt, gently touching her arm. Her lashes fluttered. Half-asleep, she reached up, palm warm against my cheek.

And then she leaned in.

The kiss was soft, tender, tasting of everything we never said and everything we still couldn’t have.

[iammickeymillz]

Water at Your Wedding: Chapter 3

Pairing: Tara Carpenter X Reader (G!P)

Summary: Sam and Y/N are getting closer and Tara is starting to notice.

“You’re early,” I said, locking the register.

“Or you’re just late” She smirked, tapping her nails against the countertop. “Besides, I was bored.”

“You don’t strike me as the type who gets bored.”

Her eyes flicked to mine, a spark there. “Maybe I just wanted to see you.”

I chuckled. “Smooth.”

She leaned in, lowering her voice like it was a secret. “Then why are you blushing?”

My eyes widen at the comment.

Later, at the bar, the jukebox was playing something about an ex taking his dog. Sam had her jacket off, sitting across from me with her boots up on the seat, sipping a whiskey neat.

“You know what I don’t get?” she said, tilting her head.

“What’s that?”

“Why you and Tara never figured your shit out.”

My stomach dropped. “Not this again.”

She grinned. “You can’t even hear her name without flinching. That’s not nothing.”

I stared into my glass, the ice melting too fast. “It’s complicated.”

Sam leaned across the table, her lips close to my ear. “Complicated is just another word for cowardly.”

My eyes shot up to hers. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” Her voice softened. “I’ve been running from this town my whole life. From my mom. From my step-dads. From everything. And yet…” Her hand brushed mine. “Here I am. Sitting across from you.”

The air between us felt charged, dangerous. I knew if I leaned an inch closer, something would happen. Something I couldn’t take back.

So, of course, that’s when the bar door opened.

And Tara walked in.

She wasn’t supposed to be there. Not this late, not in that dress… casual, yellow sundress, her hair loose like it used to be when we’d sneak out in high school.

My heart stopped.

Her eyes scanned the room and landed right on me. Then on Sam. Then back to me again.

I don’t know if it was the alcohol but I swear the whole place tilted.

“Tara.” Sam’s voice was sharp, protective. “What are you doing here?”

“Chad’s out with the guys,” Tara said, sliding into the booth beside me like she’d been there all along. Her arm brushed mine. My ears were on fire. Her perfume hit me, soft and familiar. A mix of honeysuckle and vanilla. “I didn’t want to sit at home alone.”

Tara’s hand found the edge of my sleeve, fingers ghosting over my wrist before she pulled back. “You don’t call. You don’t come by. What, you’re too busy with Sam now?”

Her voice was casual with a hint of sarcasm. But her eyes were fire.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Sam leaned back, folding her arms, watching us both like she was tallying invisible points on a scoreboard.

We stayed like that for a beat too long. Me caught between Tara’s burning stare and Sam’s smirk that said told you so.

Finally, Tara looked away, flagging the bartender down for a soda. “Fine. Don’t answer.”

Her free hand rested lightly against her stomach, almost unconsciously.

And that’s when it hit me.

I was trapped in a triangle with two Carpenter sisters. One who might be carrying my child, and one who might be something new. All I knew was that I may not survive it.

Tara stirred her soda with the straw like it had wronged her. Ice clinking angrily against the glass. Every so often, her eyes flicked up to me, then back down.

Sam broke the silence first, her voice steady. “So what’s the plan, Tara? Sneak into the bar, sit down next to Y/N like this is a normal Tuesday?”

Tara’s lips twitched. “You don’t own her, Sam.”

Something sharp cut through her words. I shifted in my seat, pulse racing.

“I didn’t say I did,” Sam countered, but her hand stayed on the table, close enough to mine that Tara noticed.

And she did.

Her gaze dropped to our hands, and for a flicker of a second, something raw crossed her face. Jealousy. Maybe even hurt.

Finally my brain began to work again. “Both of you, stop. This isn’t…”

“Isn’t what?” Tara snapped, eyes blazing now. “Isn’t you falling back into the same pattern you always do? Running away when things get too hard. Too complicated.”

Her words hit me square in the chest. She wasn’t wrong. I did run. From this town, from her, from my feelings.

Sam leaned back, smirking like she was watching a show. “Oh, this is good. Keep going.”

“Sam,” I warned, but she just lifted her glass in mock salute.

When Tara finally stood, it was too sudden. My body immediately missing her warmth. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have come.”

She turned to go, and instinct made me grab her wrist.

The contact burned. She froze, staring down at where my hand encircled her wrist.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

I let go.

Her eyes softened just enough before she pulled away and walked out.

The silence she left behind was heavy.

Sam swirled the little bit of whiskey left in her glass. “She’s still in love with you.”

My throat closed. “She’s married.”

Sam’s smirk returned, but there was no humor in it. “Not the point I was making.”

I glared at her. “You love stirring shit up, don’t you?”

“Only when it’s true,” she said simply, then leaned closer, voice low.

For a beat, I forgot how to breathe.

Her eyes shimmered, brown and dangerous.

And God help me, some part of me wanted to lean in, close the distance, drown in Sam just to forget Tara for one night.

But I didn’t. Not yet.

Because every time I closed my eyes, I still saw Tara’s face. And the way her hand rested on her stomach like a secret only the two of us shared.

[iammickeymillz]

Water at Your Wedding: Chapter 2

Pairing: Tara Carpenter X Reader (G!P)

Summary: Inspired by Greylan James - Water at a Wedding. Y/N is still in town trying to move on with some help from Sam.

The music is still vibrating through the walls as I exit the bathroom. I immediately head to the nearest exit. Sam finds me leaning against a column outside, staring up at the string lights swaying in the humid night air.

“My dance partner abandoned me on the dance floor” she says handing me a glass of dark liquor. “Sorry about that.” I say staring at the amber liquid. Tara’s words echoing in my head. “I hope they have your eyes.”

Sam doesn’t push. She just keeps me company with her silence. Finally a drunk guest stumbling out of the part breaks my focus.

Finally, Sam says, “You’re not staying in Woodsboro, are you?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Her lips curved, somewhere between a smirk and something softer. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. This town is too small and full of ghosts.”

I studied her then. The older sister who’d left without looking back. The girl that once babysat me wasn’t a girl anymore. There was an edge to her, something hardened by years away.

You know,” Sam added, “you don’t have to keep pretending.”

“Pretending what?”

“That you don’t love her.”

The whiskey burned all the way down. “It doesn’t matter. And soon I will put this town back in my rearview.”

A Few Weeks Later:

Sam walks into the hardware store and her eye immediately land on me. Her leather jacket slung over her shoulder reminded me that she was way too cool for this town. Her confidence could stop any man in his tracks.

“Sam Carpenter. Although the last the name fits this place I don’t ever recall you stepping foot inside this store before.” I laugh.

“I’m here looking for a drinking buddy.” She says as her eyes lock on mine.

“I don’t remember you being this friendly.”

“You in or not.” She says.

“Sure. Give me a few to lock up.”

The bar is half empty when we walk in. An old country song is playing on the jukebox. We choose to sit at a booth sharing whiskey and memories. We talk about what life was like outside of Woodsboro. Neither of us really finding what we were looking for. How every city felt more like a layover than a destination.

At some point, her hand brushed mine on the table. Neither of us moved it away.

This becomes our norm. Sam stopping at the store. Her and I ending up at the local bar finding comfort in each others company. Part of me wonders if I’m looking for Tara in her.

When I hear the door chime I look up expecting Sam but Tara’s eyes meet mine. Her hand resting protectively over her stomach. To the keen eye she’s starting to show. I barely notice Chad until he’s standing directly in front of me.

“I’m looking for this type of nail.” He says waving it in front of my face.

“Aisle three.” I say through gritted teeth.

Chad walks away but Tara is still watching me.

Sam walks in then. Her eyes darting between her sister and I.

“Hey Sam.”

“Hey Y/N”

Tara watches us curiously. She turns on heels and walks away to join Chad.

I exhale the breath that I didn’t realize I was holding.

“You’ve got it bad,” Sam says leaning against the counter.

I shoved my hands in my pockets. “You have no idea.”

Note: More Tara in the next chapter….

[iammickeymillz]

Water at Your Wedding

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (g!p)

Summary: Inspired by Greylan James - Water at a Wedding. Y/N is at Tara’s wedding and reception and notices her not drinking.

A/N: I don’t typically write fanfic so be gentle

“Mom, I really don’t want to be here right now.”

“You’ve known each other since kindergarten, and it’s her wedding day.”

I roll my eyes and tug at the black tie strangling my neck. Dad’s watching me curiously, like he can see right through the smartass exterior. The flask in my pocket sloshes with whiskey as we move down the aisle.

The wedding planner gestures us toward the left. Bride’s side. Of course.

Chad, the groom, is standing up front, eyes bloodshot, shoulders tense. His bachelor party clearly went until sunrise. He never liked me, and the feeling’s mutual. Maybe he always sensed the spark between me and Tara, his bride-to-be. Maybe it ate him alive that there was a part of her he could never reach.

Meanwhile, his best man or rather, best woman Mindy stares at me from her place at the altar. We’ve been rivals since debate team, and the glare she shoots me feels like old times. I shoot them a fake smile and wave.

And then Sam. Sam Carpenter, Tara’s big sister, walks down the aisle in a green bridesmaid dress that clings in all the right places. My parents had mentioned she’d blown back into town, but I hadn’t believed it until I saw her with my own eyes.

The Bridal March begins. Everyone stands.

And there she is.

Tara.

White lace drapes her like it was spun by hand just for her. A thin veil frames her face. The train of her gown trails behind, elegant, endless. She looks… breathtaking isn’t enough.

Her eyes meet mine, and I swear the whole church holds its breath. She falters, just slightly, like she wasn’t expecting to see me. Her chest rises as she takes a sharp inhale.

Then the world blurs. Voices echo, muffled. I only catch pieces of the reverend’s words until…

“Does anyone object to this union?”

My heart stutters. My throat closes.

I picture standing up. I picture shouting me. I picture running down the aisle, taking her hand, dragging her out into the sun where it’s just us again.

But I stay seated. Because Tara deserves to be happy.

My hands don’t unclench until the applause.

The next thing I know, the church is empty. Just me, my flask, and the ghosts of every memory Tara and I ever shared.

“Hey.”

I glance up. Sam slides into the pew beside me and drapes an arm around my shoulders, warm and grounding. “Long time no see.”

I force a smile. “Hey, Sam.”

“How about we grab a drink? I hear the reception has an open bar.”

The reception hall is smothered in magnolias and roses, the kind of setting designed for fairy tales. I don’t bother looking for my name on the seating chart—I wasn’t technically invited.

Mom kisses my cheek on her way out. “We’re heading home. Your dad’s still not one hundred percent. Take our seats.”

“Sure,” I lie, because I have no intention of sitting down.

Instead, I hover at the back, whiskey burning my throat as the newlyweds are announced.

And of course, that’s when Mrs. Carpenter finds me.

“Y/N.” Her voice is sharp, curling my name like it’s a curse. “I didn’t know you were back. Nice to see you attend Tara’s wedding.” The sneer almost hides beneath her polite smile, but not quite. Even through her alcoholism, she always saw what lingered between her daughter and me.

Before I can respond, Sam rescues me. She takes my arm and pulls me straight onto the dance floor.

“Thanks,” I mouth as she presses close.

Her eyebrow quirks. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always. You were my favorite babysitter, remember?”

“Why didn’t you and Tara ever… you know?”

I look over her shoulder, at the bride across the room. My chest aches. “We were just friends,” I say, too quickly.

Sam doesn’t buy it. I can feel her skepticism in the way she squeezes my hand tighter.

Flashback: Two Months Ago

I was at the local bar, nursing a whiskey and Coke after a long day at the hardware store. Running it for Dad while he recovered felt like slow suffocation.

“Y/N?”

That voice. I turned, and there she was.

Tara Carpenter.

Remember the cliché about being secretly in love with your best friend?

“When did you get back?” she asked, arms folded, eyes sparking.

“A few weeks ago.”

“You didn’t bother to come see me.” Her voice cracked. “Not surprised, since you left and decided to cut me out of your life.”

“Tara, we both went to college. You went to New York. I went to the west coast. Do people really stay friends after high school?”

Her hand flew before I saw it coming. The slap stung, but not as much as the tears pooling in her eyes.

I downed my drink and muttered, “Goodnight, Tara.”

But later, upstairs in the tiny apartment above the bar, a knock came.

I opened the door. “If you came here to hit me again…”

Her lips crashed against mine.

We didn’t stop. Clothes fell. My hands knew her like they’d always been meant to. That night was fire and ache and years of what ifs burning down to ash.

The next morning, I woke up sore. Alone.

Back in the reception, I see Tara across the room, smiling, laughing. Chad brings her a glass of champagne. She accepts it, then, slyly, pours it into a vase when no one’s looking.

Not once tonight have I seen her actually drink. No bubbles. No sips.

My chest tightens.

I follow her when she slips into the bathroom and lock the door behind us.

“Tara.”

She turns, startled. “Y/N?”

“Are you pregnant?”

She freezes. Then nods.

“How long?”

“Two months.”

The math slams into me. My mouth goes dry. “Is it….”

“Don’t ask that question.” Her voice wavers, but her eyes don’t leave mine. “It doesn’t matter. The baby will belong to my husband.”

I can’t breathe.

She reaches for the door, but before slipping out, she glances back over her shoulder.

“But I hope they have your kind eyes.”

And then she’s gone.

The sounds of laughter and music seep through the bathroom walls. I take a slow sip from my flask, hands trembling.

I stay there a long time, staring at my reflection. Wondering how you move on from someone who’s still yours in all the wrong ways.

[rholsof-film]

8/12h placements

Bonus for Shatabisha too

[jkateel]

(Sound on.) We’re all doomed.

[iammickeymillz]

This would be hilarious if it weren’t true