all hers | tara carpenter x fem!reader

epilogue

a/n: it's been a wild ride. thanks for all who have come along. all hers is over, but I will still be writing gf!tara drabbles in the same universe - maybe some college oneshots in the drabble files. Until then: enjoy the final chapter! :)) 

-

As the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months, slowly, the pain subsides.

Your normal? It's potentially forever gone. It shouldn't be a surprise, at this point.

Once you'd just been a teenage girl, crazily in love with another girl.

Who turned out to be a serial killer. Who'd somehow turned you into a killer.

Who'd made you cry, and laugh and love harder than you'd ever loved in your entire life.

In the grand scheme of things - the scar on your belly is probably the least of your worries.

But that doesn't stop you toiling on it.

It always seems to be the way, doesn't it? Worrying about the things that don't really matter.

You worry nonetheless.

"It's pretty," Tara murmurs in comfort when you're staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror, shirt lifted slightly, eyebrows pinched in dismay.

It's not pretty.

It's wiry and long and stems from the tip of your bellybutton down to your navel.

"It's hideous." You say, voice a little fraught.

It's hideous and permanent.

You'll never be able to wear a bikini again. You'll never be able to take your shirt off again without being reminded of it.

Of her.

The woman who had tormented you for weeks.

The woman who you'd tormented for weeks. The woman whose son you'd taken from her. The woman who'd repaid you in mental scars to last a lifetime.

A belly scar to last a lifetime.

"It's beautiful," Tara says, pressing her lips to your shoulder, "It means you're alive."

She squeezes your hips, then lifts her own shirt.

"And it matches mine," She says, eyes shimmering, "Matching knife wounds. Like soulmates."

You snort.

Because of course Tara tries to make stab wounds romantic.

But to her credit - it works.

Your heart sings.

Soulmates.

Because that's what you are.

"Who needs a wedding ring, right?" You say, biting your lip, insecurities suddenly fading.

Tara entwines your hands, lifts the back of your hand to her lips.

"You do," Tara says, "And you'll have one. Soon. I promise."

You pull back.

"Not before-"

"College," Tara says, rolling her eyes, "I know, babe."

You press a lingering kiss to her cheek.

"I just don't want to be one of those couples who rush into marriage and fall apart the moment they turn twenty-one."