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highvern · 3 months

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Burnt Coffee

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x gn! Reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: Running a cafe hadn’t been as glamorous as you initially believed. You loved your job; the cozy aroma of the different roasts, the hum of the espresso machine, the foam art you tediously practiced until a cute bear face stared back from the surface of a cappuccino. But any new shop comes with quirks, like the fire alarm that goes off almost every morning. Luckily, the fire station is just across the street and you unknowingly have one of the fireman wrapped around your finger.

Warnings: coffee shop owner reader, firefighter Hoshi, pockets of angst, crying, lots of mentions of food and coffee, firefighter jihoon and his baker gf, crying, kissing

Length: ~4.6k

Note: second valentine's fic! surprise! written for the Cupid For You Fic Exchange hosted by @svthub. Happy Valentine's @idyllic-ghost / @bee-buzzez !!! i hope its the cafe au of your dreams

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

“I’ve got an iced dirty chai with oat milk at the end of the bar!”

A sour-faced woman scoffs, “That isn’t what I ordered.”

“Well, is your name Samantha?”

“No.”

“Then it isn’t your order.”

The exchange between Seungkwan and the woman rings familiar. Sundays bring out the best in everyone it seems. But you're too busy handling the never ending line of drink tickets to scold him for poor customer service. Focusing on the machine, you pull shot after shot; inadvertently covering yourself in errant splashes of milk and coffee. The rush of the morning is still going strong but you hone into the rhythm and let your mind fall away from anything beyond the cups resting atop the counter next to you.

But as always, the steam from the milk frother continues to heat the space above; right where the over sensitive fire alarm was installed.

The shrill blaring freezes everyone in place. A few children scream in shock, making the vein on your temple throb. Your ears ring with each pulse as your head falls into your hands.

Every single morning since you opened Fika two months ago the alarm went off without fail.

And then he would show up like clockwork.

The bell attached to the wooden door chimes as Soonyoung breaks through the threshold of the cafe. Grimaced faces greet him. The shrill fire alarm with flash lights blares into the industrial space, bouncing off the walls to echo inanely.

“Earlier than usual.” Soonyoung chirps as he saunters past the line, easily rounding the bar to access the screeching piece of junk inconveniently placed above the espresso machine.

You step out of the way, face flat and mouth tense. “Busy day.” You explain.

The alarm cuts off as swift as it started, Soonyoung stepping back to smile down at you.

“I can hang around in case. Seems like that line isn’t going anywhere.”

“Yeah, sure. Do you want something to drink?” You offer stepping back to the line of cups littering the metal counter.

“Ooo, buying me drinks already? Aren’t you presumptuous?”

The wiggle of his eyebrows is meant to be suggestive but they only make him look like he ate a mouthful of sour candy.

“Nevermind.” You huff, stepping around the man as you grab the next cup in line and start working. “Go save a cat in a tree or something.”

Sensing your waning mood, Soonyoung cuts the act. “I’ll just have my regular.”

“You know where the cups are.”

A full cup of brewed coffee joins him on the opposite side of the counter. Soonyoung plants himself in his usual chair, chin resting on his curled fist as he watches you work your magic.

On slow days he’ll chat your ear off until the fire station calls him back. But on days like today, he’s content to in silence; obsessed with the sureness of your hands, the strong pout of your lips, and the way everything seems pulled into your gravity.

Maybe he has a crush on you.

Scratch that; Soonyoung definitely has a crush on you.

And everyone knows. His supervisor, Jihoon, knows. It’s why Soonyoung is always the one to come and fix the faulty alarm in the shop. His best friend, Seokmin, knows. It’s why Seokmin and his fiancee constantly batter him with texts about when he’ll ask you on a date. If someone went to space and looked down they could see how much he likes you without even trying.

You hit a lull and Soonyoung takes his chance. “Got any special plans this week?”

“We’re doing themed baked goods on Wednesday.” You call over your shoulder.

It’s not what Soonyoung was asking about but he takes it in stride.

Your employees also know about the fireman’s feelings. It’s why Seungkwan throws a pitying look his way along with a deformed muffin. Subtle rejection tastes like blueberries and brown sugar.

“Will you save me one?” Soonyoung asks.

“Is free coffee not enough?”

“Who said I wouldn’t pay for it?”

You never let Soonyoung pay for anything at the cafe. Despite how much he enjoys free food, it always makes him feel a bit guilty. It’s why you think he only drinks black coffee with a lethal amount of sugar when in reality he’d take some fancy espresso drink any day.

You laugh as you continue to work through the next batch of orders. “We’ll see if there are any left.”

“I’m a civil servant!”

“Serve in silence please!” Seungkwan barks, earning a few chuckles from the other customers sitting at the bar.

The back and forth continues and eventually the line dwindles to nothing as the morning lulls on. Soonyoung downs two more cups and manages to haggle Seungkwan for an overly toasted slice of banana bread with a singed corner he planned to throw out anyway.

The entire time Soonyoung watches you. Even covered in splashes of milk and coffee stains, he’s still enamored with you as you lean over the bar and jot notes in the ever expanding list of repairs and updates the shop needs.

And just when Soonyoung opens his mouth to say something, anything, the shrill beep of his phone cuts him off.

“Damn, I gotta head back.” He curses. “Just call if you need me again, okay?”

“Will do.”

You don’t even look up as he walks towards the door.

“Satan is one the phone for you.”

“Please be less specific.” You beg Seungkwan, grabbing the receiver still on hold.

“Bakery lady.”

Steeling yourself, you unmute the phone and bring it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“I was reviewing orders for Valentine’s. You're only doing the usual? I thought we talked about special items. I already bought the ingredients so if you changed your mind it’s putting me out of money.”

“No, we need at least two dozen of the cupcakes and two dozen of the cookies on top of our usual order.”

“That’s not what the order form says!” The old crone hawks through the line.

You ask her for a moment while pulling out your laptop and settling into a seat far away from the clusters of customers still strung throughout the cafe.

Wiping your face, you stare at the illuminated screen of your computer with the order form pulled up. “I have the form on my screen right now and it clearly says—”

“I don’t care what you’re looking at, it’s not what I have on my end!”

“Are you sure you’re looking at the form for Fika on Second street?”

“I’m telling you I’m—oh.”

The deflation in her tone pulls a smirk across your lips. “Hm?”

“Alright so two dozen red velvet cupcakes and two dozen heart sugar cookies?”

“Yep.”

“Alright, I’ll have it on Wednesday.”

“Thanks.”

Click.

The table shakes with the impact of your forehead. The clatter of your mug draws attention from the few customers around but none pay much attention.

“Everything okay?” A voice asks from above.

“Great. Wonderful.” You say into the wood.

“Good. Because the espresso machine is broken…again.”

You rise from your seat, face indecipherable as you walk past the counter, through the back storage area and into the alley behind the building.

Several seconds pass before you release a guttural scream. It's gritty, ripping apart your throat as all bubbling exhaustion breaches your lips. The noise echos between the brick walls before escaping to the sky above. Several pigeons flee to the rooftops for safety while mice and other vermin scuffle along the walls in terror.

Seungkwan watches from the door, eyes wide as you continue to belt for the trash bags and city rats witnessing your meltdown.

Your voice fizzles as you run out of air. Closing your eyes, you take two deep breaths. Inhaling the scent of stale storm water and whatever else perfumes the back alley until the stretch of your lungs burns from the inside out.

And then you turn and walk back inside as if the entire thing never happened.

The block is only illuminated by streetlights at this hour. Not even the earliest of early birds litter the narrow sidewalk as you push into the empty cafe and begin prepping for the Monday morning rush. The smell of fresh coffee fills the air, the whir of the grinder harmonizing with the jazz playlist curling down from the speakers.

The calm before the storm.

Slowly the first shift employees trickle in just before opening; relieving you to commandeer the office slash storage room in the back, intent on knocking out the mountain of paperwork and following up with the repair man about the alarm he said he would be back to fix last week. But first, the phone blinking with unread messages.

“This is Megan. We’ve been trying to reach you about your car’s extended warr—”

Message deleted.

The next message is a young man reporting his credit card missing and visiting your shop. You call and let his voicemail know no one has seen anything but you hope he figures it out.

“Hi Y/N. This is Cheryl with Harmony Bakers. Just wanted to let you know I won’t be able to get that special order for Valentine’s Day. Or your regular order for tomorrow. We’ve decided to close up shop. Sorry about the inconvenience.”

The words don’t hit at first. But your brain slowly catches up to what Cheryl is saying. Canceling. She’s canceling two days before Valentine’s.

Your attempts to return her call fall flat. Six tries and all ring once before dropping into an automated message reporting her voicemail is full, no doubt from the other shops she’s also shafted with the impulsive decision.

No holiday treats. No regular food items. No back up. No plan B.

Failure, failure, failu—

The pad of paper littered with notes sails into the not so far wall only to slap against the plaster and slip to the ground.

You can only focus on one problem at a time. Or at least the problem whose solution won’t send you to jail. And that means heading to the front where the day is starting to pick up.

The boys have things under control but the line is lengthening and you’re a great way to relieve the pressure. Immediately an invisible song pulls you into the rhythm of their work; drinks and food hit the end of the bar almost as fast as the orders came in.

Soonyoung comes in and waits at the counter as usual. The alarm seems to be granting mercy given the horrible state of affairs from this morning.

The customers not so much.

“God, how stupid are you that you messed up a simple order? It’s a fucking americano and you made it taste like ass.”

The man standing at the end of the bar, hands flat on the counter in an attempt to physically dominate the space, always complains. His iced drinks are too cold, his hot drinks are too hot, the weather is bad, taxes are too high, the list continues on and on. And somehow it's always your fault.

Usually its little barbs under his breath but today he’s out for blood and you’ve already had enough.

Your teeth grit together so hard it feels like the forced smile plastered on your face might crack them into dusk. “Like I said, I can remake it for you if you’d lik—”

“Why would I want you to remake it? You clearly have no idea what you’re doing. Get someone else.”

“I got it.” Seungcheol steps forward.

The older man gives him an apprehensive look. Seungcheol is harmless but he knows how to be scary when he wants to be.

“I’m gonna go…restock something…” you warble, all but sprinting to the back.

Plastic sleeves of cups and boxes of straws bear witness to your breakdown. The six am tantrum clouds in and your carefully built dam of control explodes. Hot tears streak your cheeks, dripping off the jut of your chin with every gasping breath from the knot in your throat tangling tighter and tighter. All you can hear are ugly gasping breaths as you rock back and forth in the dark.

The sliver of light spilling in from the cracked door doesn’t register given the way your face is buried in your hands. Soonyoung has half a mind to pretend he never entered the cramped space. He’s never seen you so… small.

A shrill squeak of the hinge alert you to the new presence. Bloodshot eyes find his wide ones and you swipe at your face to hide the evidence of your distress. You go to speak but barely manage a croak before the tears come again.

“Shit,” Soonyoung whispers. “It’s okay, it’s alright.”

The warmth of his chest makes you cry harder, tears spilling onto his neck as you hide from the world. He smooths the flat of his palm across your back.

It's anyone’s guess how long you stay there. Soonyoung’s cheek rests on the top of your head, arms firm around your shoulders. The faint smell of smoke tickles your nose. Smoke and pine from his cologne. It tethers your mind, lulling the frantic breakdown and giving you something to focus on other than how horrible the day has become in the span of a few hours.

No baked goods. Horrible customers. And now you’re being held by the handsome fighter from next door with snot dripping from your nose.

Soonyoung hesitates when you shift in his hold, arms tightening for a second in case another bout of tears crops up. But you pull far enough away to send an embarrassed grimace his way before looking anywhere else.

“Sorry.” You say, turning to snatch napkins from the shelf next to you.

His hand continues to rub your shoulders as you dab your eyes and blow your nose.

“It’s okay. That guy was a jerk.”

“I don’t care what he said.”

Soonyoung stares in disbelief, waiting for you to continue.

“My baker canceled on me, and the espresso machine is held together with duct tape, and there's a million other things going wrong, not to mention the fire alarm. And I just…”

Squeezing your eyes tight to prevent the moisture swelling in the corners proves unhelpful. To Soonyoung’s credit he stays silent, allowing you all the time you need to get your thoughts in order. But the hand on your back continuing to trace abstract shapes between your shoulder blades lets you know he’s there when you’re ready.

“It’s just been a rough week.” You say to the floor.

The admission lifts the ten pound weight off your chest. Soonyoung isn’t an employee you need to guarantee everything is okay to or a customer requiring a mask. He’s a…friend? It feels generous but if he was anything less you doubt he’d be where he is now.

“Is there any way I can help?”

You blow your nose into the tissue before laughing wetly. “I don’t suppose you have a magic wand, do you?”

“Just broke mine actually.” He winces sarcastically.

What’s another thing on your never ending to-do list? Along with the desperate need to buy more supplies for tomorrow, how difficult can it be to conjure artisan baked goods out of thin air?

“Actually,” Soonyoung perks. “Jihoon’s girlfriend works at a bakery. Pete’s? No, wait. Penny’s?”

“Petunia’s?”

“That’s the one! Maybe I can ask her if she can help?”

“Good luck.” You snort. “They couldn’t even fit me into their normal rotation.”

“We won’t know until we ask!” He chips, thrilled he can help.

Soonyoung jumps up, a cruel chill invading the space he once occupied. Like the sun moving behind a cloud and leaving you at the mercy of a cool breeze; there and gone before you can delve into what it means.

You hand him the order form you usually give your baker to relay to Jihoon’s girlfriend. While he steps out to ask for a miracle you focus on tallying how many cups, napkins, lids, and other miscellaneous items you need from the supply store across town. A few lone tears appear, falling without much preamble but the worst is out and stained on Soonyoung’s shoulder. You’ll get through it. With Soonyoung’s help you’ll get past everything, even if his efforts fall flat.

Seungcheol and Seungkwan confirm they’ve got things under control as you take your leave. Soonyoung is just visible in the dissipating morning fog hanging in the street. He paces the sidewalk, speaking into his phone animatedly before spotting you trying to sneak past him to your car.

“Thank you! You’re the best!” He cheers before hanging up and pocketing his phone.

“So?”

“They’ll do it! One of the other shops dropped out last minute and they have a lot of extras. Maybe not all the usual stuff but Rita said she can pull together most of the stuff on the form.”

Body frozen, you stare at Soonyoung with an open mouth and eyes wide. There’s no way he solved half your workload with one phone call.

“She also said they can try and work you into their usual orders. If that’s something you’re interested in…” Soonyoung trails off, glancing at you nervously.

In a blink your back in his arms, squeezing him so hard your arms hurt.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” You chant into his chest.

“Of course.”

Stepping back, you blush at your own impulsiveness.

“Um, well…” you fumble, clearing your throat you get back to the task at hand. “I need to run to the store so I’ll see you later.”

“I can come!”

“No! I mean, you’ve already helped so much. I’d feel bad dragging you along.”

“Don’t worry about me, I'm just trying to make sure you don’t start crying again and cause an accident.”

“Okay, rude.”

Soonyoung ignores you, already strutting down the street.

“Your cars this way, right?”

“No.”

“Listen, I wanna come with you. I have nothing else to do today.”

“Cool,” You laugh, continuing the opposite direction Soonyoung headed. “but my car is still this way.”

The drive is pleasant. You learn more about Soonyoung in the thirty minutes it takes to get across town than you’ve learned in the weeks he’s been coming to the cafe. He has an older sister, he likes to volunteer at the youth center down the street in his time off, and he cannot work a computer if his life depends on it. You also learn more about his coworker turned best friend who also happens to be the boyfriend of your new god.

“Yeah Jihoon and I started the same day. He comes off kinda cold but it's all an act.”

“Oh, really?” You laugh, pulling into a cramped parking spot.

“One hundred percent. You should see him with Rita. I never saw him blush that much until they started dating.”

“How’d they meet?”

“Funny story.” Soonyoung shares, climbing out of the passenger seat. “So the bakery she worked at before had a fire. No one was hurt and they put it out before we even got there! But we went to make sure everything was clear. Well, Rita was there and I swear it was love at first sight for him.”

“That’s sweet.”

You both make your way inside the sliding doors; Soonyoung pushing a flat cart behind you through the aisles.

“He’s definitely mellowed out since he met her. Doesn’t work as much, thank god.”

“What about your girlfriend? Do you guys have the same Hallmark meet cute?”

“Oh! I don’t have a girlfriend.” Soonyoung mumbles, ears turning scarlett.

Your face heats as well. Whatever force compelled you to ask such a prying question revels in satisfaction to hear Soonyoung is in fact single. A tidbit of information you’ve never wondered about before.

“Sorry I couldn’t get you anything for today.” Rita says as she helps unpack everything onto the counter.

The cafe is scarce of customers, far past closing time but Rita said they’d be too busy delivering to their other customers in the morning to spare a trip to you. What's another Tuesday at the shop? It isn't like you have time for much of a social life given the million things you need to do.

“Really don’t worry about it. You're saving my life by getting me this stuff for tomorrow.”

“Well Soonyoung made a bargain I couldn’t refuse.”

You pause for a moment. Soonyoung didn't mention anything beyond the payment Rita quoted and later sent via email. Did he promise something from the shop on your behalf?

Swallowing the budding annoyance, you continue to work like nothing is wrong. “Oh?”

“I mean an entire month of covering Jihoon’s shifts? What kind of person passes that up?”

What?

Soonyoung offered to sacrifice all his free time to help you. Soonyoung who you barely know beyond the fact that he pretends to like black coffee. The man chews with his mouth open. Soonyoung who let you ruin his sweater with tears and snot from a horrible day.

“You didn’t know?” Rita asks, face full of mirth.

“Ugh, no,” you cough. “He didn’t tell me that.”

“I was shocked when he offered. He wouldn’t do that for just anyone.”

But he did it for you.

“Yeah.”

“Y/N?”

You find Rita smiling like she knows some big secret. If you had to guess, it's probably the same thing you're realizing now.

“Soonyoung’s a great guy.”

Words fail you because you know Soonyoung is a great guy. He held you when you cried, he comes in everyday without fail to turn off the alarm, and he just sacrificed a month of his life because it would help you.

Once you and Rita unpack the remaining cookies and cakes, she takes her leave but not before dropping another wink when she spots Soonyoung approaching from the direction of the fire house.

“Rita.” he greets at the door, holding it open for her exit.

“Hosh.”

And she’s gone without another word.

“How’s it going?” Soonyoung asks, rounding the counter to join you.

“Great!” You blurt with too much enthusiasm. “Rita ended up making everything we needed.”

A second set of hands assists in packing the glass display case in preparation for tomorrow's chaos. Soonyoung listens well. Patient to a T as you direct him to tweak things just so from the opposite side of the bar.

“Thank you for all your help this week. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here to help.”

He continues to unpack the few remaining goods beneath the counter as he responds. “It’s not a big deal. What are friends for?”

“Hmm and you agree to cover all of Jihoon’s shifts for your friends?”

Leaning back against the opposite counter, you watch Soonyoung’s shoulder tense and his ears erupt into bright red. He’s so still he doesn’t even seem to be breathing at the shock of being caught. Each passing second heightens the smirk curling your lips.

“Oh, you heard about that?” He asks into the counter.

You saddle up beside him, dropping your head until his eyes meet your own. Each inch of space you claim next to him sends him away like an opposing magnet; until your sandwich between him and the hardwood.

“Yeah, I heard.”

Soonyoung backs away nervously but not before you catch the way his eyes cut to your mouth. Who knew all it took is a smile and batting your eyelashes to make chatty Soonyoung clam up? The shyness bubbling on the edge of your conscious fizzles with the new knowledge; instead, curiosity takes its place. How much more can you make him blush? What would he do if you grabbed his hand? Or if you took a chance and kissed him?

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a crush on me?” You smile around each word.

He opens his mouth to argue but it's moot with the way you gaze at him, eyes shining with mirth. Like you're laughing at some shared joke. Soonyoung will tell you whatever truths you want to hear if it means you’ll keep looking at him like that.

“Yeah.” Soonyoung whispers so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

“Good.”

You step into his space with finality, chests brushing with each breath.

“Good?”

The edge of your teeth pinning your lip down is the only thing preventing a smile from ripping across your face as you answer. “Because I have a crush on you too.”

“Oh…” He nods, head dropping dejectedly and then it hits him and whips back up so fast his eyeballs rattle. “OH. You do?”

He watches you nod, slowly angling himself to connect your lips. When Soonyoung realizes you aren’t going to push him away, evident by the hand fisted in his sweater, he goes for it.

The curve of your lip, the breathy sigh you release into his mouth, the way you seem to go boneless with each pass are all committed to his memory. Soonyoung reminds himself to be good. That this is the first time he’s kissing you and he should be a gentleman; gentle, chaste, respectful.

And he would succeed but you’re acting like you have no interest in any of those things. You whisper another heavenly sigh into his mouth, trailing a hand in the short strands of hair at the base of his skull forcing Soonyoung to focus on batting away the demons at the edge of his mind rather than giving into temptation.

But when you tug to angle his head better the delicious sting drowns Soonyoung so quickly he has you pinned to the counter before he realizes what's happening.

Sometime later, when your lips are swollen and the floor sways beneath you from the flood of giddiness coursing through your veins, you and Soonyoung part. The crisp air of the late night tries in vain to nip at your face but you’re too distracted by the calluses on the side of Soonyoung’s thumb and the way they rasp against your knuckles as he walks you to your car.

The cafe is in full swing by the time Soonyoung comes in Wednesday morning.

All morning he paced across the cramped common room of the fire station. Sure you let him kiss you but what did it all mean? He knows you like him but did you like like him or just like him? Should he have asked you on a date? Would that be too forward? Did he mess things up by not immediately asking you out despite the fact he was so love drunk he ran into a pole after watching you drive off?

He fights the idea of running across the street and demanding answers. You’re definitely too busy to spare a second and tame the butterflies in his stomach. And how pathetic would he look if he asked you to explicitly dictate how you feel so no wires end up cross? And on Valentine’s day no less?

Luckily, he’s saved by the bell. Or rather the fire alarm.

He watches you work like a tornado, pausing only to smile at him the same way you did last night when he did not so safe for work things against the very counter lined with coffee cups and steaming mugs. Flashes of memory heat across his face.

You thank him with his usual coffee and one of the cupcakes you set aside just for him. Except this time his paper cup is scribbled with a heart and something else.

Be my Valentine? _Yes _ Also Yes _ YES BUT LOUD

At some point he should tell you about the sensitivity setting on the alarm and how all you need to do is nudge the tiny lever to the right if you don't want it going off every time the steam builds up. But the way you beam at him when he steals the sharpie from behind your ear and checks all three boxes on the cup makes Soonyoung decide it’s a secret he’ll keep for now.

@cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @tomodachiii @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @gyuguys @primoppang @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe

#svthub #svthub.collab #kvanity #kwon soonyoung #hoshi #kwon soonyoung fluff #hoshi fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #svt x reader #soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #svt #svt fluff #seventeen #🫡 highvern

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ceridescent · 9 months

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Jealous Freak — F., Amber

Amber Freeman x Female!Reader

Summary: amber freeman has some serious issues, says samantha carpenter, your most loyal friend. but who cares when she's so hot when bothered, with you to take the fall?

Warning/s: top! amber, bottom!reader, heavy use of expletives, degradation kink, praise kink, strap-on usage, choking, pet name use (bunny), hair pulling, vaginal fingering, manhandling, & mentions of blood.

Word Count: 4, 417

Author’s Note: this is my first! evah! scream fan fiction! i’m so excited !!!!! (may or may not have a part two plotted in mind :*).

a loud chuckle erupts from you by your best friend’s comment, the ribbon that tied both you and your woman together; beginning freshman year, two months ago.

you finish putting on your halloween costume, glazed under the vanity lights. taking a look at yourself before applying your makeup, you take pride at how your girlfriend fashionably knows how to navigate these things.

amber didn’t mention anything about dressing up as a bloody bunny, which you are grateful for, not that she gave instructions for you to follow. she only mentioned it once, her desire to design a halloween outfit for you, and you excitedly approved, bouncing up and down her lap as you did so. then, she made you promise not to ask any questions nor clues regarding your costume, as it would spoil the fun.

and now the box sits on top of your mattress, hard and empty.

the post-it note: something cute and small, just like my bunny, along with a smiley face, sticks on the mirror in front of you.

“aah!” your throat scratches at your scream as you are met with a ghoulish-looking mask. “what the hell?!?” you screech turning around, kicking the quiet masked man with your knee.

“ow! baby!” an all too familiar, muffled voice sounds out of the mask, the anguished tone expressing its anguished features.

the man takes it off, revealing

“amber,” you sigh, coming over to her, giving a hug whilst massaging her crotch, the place you hit hard on.

“you almost knocked me out,” she sniffles, making you pull away to look at her glossy eyes. she then smirks.

“nailed it, baby,” huskily, she bites her lower lip, trailing her eyes all over your clad form, lust etched all over her gorgeous face. you hit your playful girlfriend’s shoulder, earning a small groan from her. immediately you rub it to soothe, feeling the soft fabric on your palm, its soothing texture.

“so what do you think about my costume?”

amber twirls around with a beam, showing it off. “huh? what do you think? left you speechless?” she raises her brows to urge you to say something, giggling as you trailed your eyes up and down her ghostface costume.

you take a huge gulp of your saliva, feeling very exposed. “left me screaming…”

“oh definitely!” amber sniggers, “that really was my desired reaction from my baby girl. you just never fail to make me proud,”

you moan as she peppers kisses all over your neck and collarbone, each contact getting louder as her lips trails down your body. “amber,” you mewl, pushing her away. you give her a pointed look. she innocently shrugged. “what? i’m just kissing you there so i won’t smudge my girl’s makeup!”

“how considerate,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes, walking back to the vanity mirror.

“you done?” she asks, plopping down on your mattress beside her gift box. “i think you are,” she sighs, staring at your plump ass whilst you’re bent over the vanity desk, applying lipstick.

“patience, girlfriend, beauty takes time.”

“but you’re already so beautiful,” she half-sighs and half-whines, stomping her doc martens like a bratty child. “i want to kiss you on the lips already!”

“wipe off your drool, get in line. you’re not the first one,” you giggle, finalizing your glam with a lip gloss. tilting your neck to see your girlfriend’s reaction, as expected, with her arms crossed together against her chest. her ghostface mask sits flatly on top of her lap. amber freeman’s the jealous type. overly and overtly. you walk slowly towards her.

shaking her head, she makes an eye-roll before pulling you closer by the waist, rubbing them up and down, tightening her grip as she thumbs the front of your bodysuit. she stands up then, her hands still glued on you, and you can’t help but to look at how tight she clenches you as if you’re her property. until she pulls your chin up to focus on her brown eyes. amber’s lips part, hungry ruby reds taking her time.

you almost drown in them, spiraling into the caramel pools of carnality and admiration. blinking twice, you escape amber’s dilated pupils, only to count the moles on her pale face. you hear a shuffle. “just keep looking at me,” she instructs, mumbling, “just look at me,” her breath ghosting over your cusps, teasingly inching her red plump lips against yours. “is it okay now to mess up my baby bunny’s lips?”

you gasp, feeling her softness bump against your own for a millisecond with a tender gaze, batting her eyelashes at you, entertained by how you will respond to her advances.

“it’s-“

amber opens her mouth with a sigh, the way she comes with your mouth around her clit, chuckling as you stumble back slightly, losing your grip around her padded shoulders. “oh,” she purrs, pulling you back in with the chain she slyly strapped to your collar.

“hmmm,” she hums, admiring her work.

“it was what, bunny?”

you stammer, trying to find the words, clearly struggling to form a coherent thought.

“well whatever that is, it can wait. we’re already five minutes late to the party so we better get movin’!” she exclaims with such eagerness, tugging your leash in the process. you choke the moan that was ready to pop out, grateful to be preserving the amount of dignity you could spare.

amber doesn’t let go of your leash while she takes on the ghostface mask, until she puts you in the passenger seat.

amber’s muffled giggle could be heard before it disappears, a click of a red glowing button placed between her neck and shoulder. she turns at you, eerily slowly, pulling out a fake bloodied knife out of nowhere, creating stabbing motions.

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

you groan, clenching your thighs. a sudden throb pulsed through you when she did that, piling up to the list of her teasings of the day. “baby,” you whine, “we’re already 10 minutes late. that can wait,” you remind her as you drag your words, the whole time staring at a blank mask stare, unaware if she’s reciprocating. but it’s your girlfriend amber freeman, who loves to make eye contact.

“you don’t treat me like that-“

amber tugs at your leash and you whimper, cowering as the heat between your thighs intensifies. amber has never been this rough.

she huffs, “you’ll be sorry for that,” putting away her props and turning off her voice changer device.

“you got your seatbelt on, baby?” she asks, back in her sweet, loving voice. you smile, caressing the mask, “yes, baby, good to go!”

“oh my fucking god!” you hear sam exclaim, raking her shocked eyes all over you. “you’re a slutty bunny!”

“now, now, sam, don’t eye my girl like that,” amber warns with a scoff, shielding you protectively from the fake lara croft. “hey, i can handle myself, thank you very much,” you complain, pushing amber away. you’re met with a smirking sam, looking at amber with a knowing look.

“then maybe you shouldn’t have chosen that halloween costume for everyone to ogle at her, ms. smart pants,” sam tells amber matter-of-fact, waving to the crowd which definitely eyed you like a fish in an oasis, howling and whistling as they passed you by.

“you’re scorching, ms. croftie! are you out looking for gems?” you ask her flirtatiously, twirling your hair, like girls do when they tease their friends. samantha chuckles and slaps your shoulder playfully, “yes and the bigger the better!” giving you a high-five whilst your girlfriend handles the situation she’d cause with her ghostface costume and her fake bloody knife.

“fuck off!”

“oh, scary,” sam mocked sarcastically, dragging you away from your distressed girlfriend. “that woman could be stupid,” your best friend sings, giving you a drink. “i think she meant well,” you fend, twirling a lock of curled hair as you sip the alcohol. “do i really look like a slut?”

sam rolls her eyes at your innocence with an amused grin. “you’re wearing a damn bodysuit with bunny ears and a bunny tail, y/n. let’s not forget you literally have a collar and leash strapped to your neck.

“you’re dressed as amber’s slutty pet this halloween, god’s sake.”

samantha carpenter nods at your blown away look of wide eyes and an open mouth, her words slowly registering through your pokey brain. she lets a moment of silence encompass the both of you as you look down at your costume. the red on your lips. the fake bunny parts you happily placed on your body to dress the part. the collar that’s tight around your neck — to impress amber — to have the best halloween costume in the party — to make amber proud.

“oh,” you say.

“oh. is that bad?”

your best friend chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief. “well…” she checks you out, biting her lower lip in the process. “if amber wasn’t in the picture i for sure-“

“it’s not bad for you, princess. i think. but for amber,” sam sighs, tilting her head to see how her friend is doing with all the oglers. “it’s 50/50.

“she loves to show you off. this is her most elaborate way of parading you to everyone, at the latest. she loves for every single one of us to know that she owns you, like a pet, or something. i bet she got too carried away to forget about all the motherfuckers who want to steal you away from her.”

all that talk with sam had your mind going hazy, if it wasn’t already. you’re not even sure if putting on that costume and staring at yourself the whole time in the mirror looking like an animal was part of amber’s slick foreplay, but now that you’re in here…

another strong pulse digs in between your thighs, pestering the nerves into a blaze. and you don’t even remember if you’ve put on a panty to salvage the bottom of your bodysuit, but that made you throb even further.

“both of you are stupid in ways you complete each other,” she concludes, nodding her head.

“thanks?”

samantha chuckles, checking you out again. “you’re welcome, bunny.”

“no one calls her that but me!” amber yells at sam’s smirking face before she grabs your wrist, pulling you away from the crowd and into the nearest bathroom down the hall.

you jump at the loud noise of the shutting door, everyone’s halloween-prepared faces staring back at you. before you could fully comprehend the circumstance, your girlfriend shoves you against the bathroom door and pins your arms above your head. the hollowed holes stare at you dead in the eyes, you can feel it, amber shooting lasers into yours. she groans as she pulls away.

“baby,” you coo, your voice wavering, “will you take off the mask? i’m getting worried…”

“fuck this,” amber cursed in a muffled growl before unveiling the mask, shoving her lips onto yours, biting it harshly it stings.

you moan at the pain and the pleasure of amber soothing your cut with her lips, gradually getting softer at the moment. she slides her gloved hands around your waist and squeezes it so hard you open your mouth to sigh. taking the opportunity, she slides her tongue in to suck yours.

“yes, baby,” she pushes the words into your mouth, “you’re doing such a good job for me.

“we just got here and i gotta fuck you to let them know who owns you,” she huffs it itritatedly as if she can’t believe it; like things didn’t go as she had planned.

“but you were gonna?” you ask in a whimper, panting. the softness of her full lips feels so addicting you didn’t want to open your eyes.

she slithers her knee against your core, grinding up against it, moaning “oh fuck yeah baby i was gonna,” breaking the kiss for a moment to solely feel your warm pussy. “i was gonna fuck you on the terrace where everyone could see. but that’s too far un-fucking-fortunately.” you both moan, picturing the image inside your dazing heads.

“amber,” you whine, her cursing turning you on more.

“and i need to be inside you baby. i need it so b-bad,” you whimper and nod your head in agreement, amber’s cries setting your mind off completely.

but then you giggle.

“are you wearing any panties?”

“why don’t you come find out, ghostface?”

amber growls and pulls your neck into a fiery kiss, each nip and suck sending you into a spiral of frenzy. amber unbuttons your crotch, pushing her fingers on your clitoris successfully.

“fuck baby!” she moans loudly, closing her eyes. her head falling behind you against the door, her forehead resting against it. “fuck, baby…” she whispers, using her thumb to rub on your clitoris, her middle and ring finger ghosting over your hole. you both hear the slosh of your pussy echoing inside the bathroom.

“you drive me so fucking crazy.”

you can’t even think straight.

your head reels and you haven’t even drank alcohol yet. amber’s scent alone got you fuzzy; however, the way she yelled your name and proudly claimed you in front of everyone, her possessiveness, her jealous intent, her desire to claim, fuck, that just had you dripping in your fucking bodysuit.

“are you ready for me, baby?” she asks in a low tone, saccharine and soft, and before you could respond,

“ah,” you scream, her fingers sliding easily into you. she holds you back, her left hand on your hip to hold you down, shaking her head as she stares at you with blown out eyes.

she bites her lip, breathing heavily with you, the party noises outside blocked out by your moment. “i slid in so easily, baby. i can’t believe i own this slutty pussy,”

“y-you own it,” you muster to say aloud, letting her manhandle around your waist, planting her mark over there as well.

“i do, yeah?” amber’s got that cocky smirk all over her face, the one thing you want make out with. you nod your head, pulling her for a kiss.

“of course i do,” amber grunts, pulling away but not before biting your lip, pumping her fingers into you, her pace getting quicker. “i own the sluttiest pussy in town,” she groans as she watches your pleasure-stricken face, blood oozing out of your busted lip. it takes all her might not to nibble, sucking off all the blood.

amber’s wrists angles diagonally, her tips hitting against your g-spot. you scream high-pitched, caught off guard, falling over the door. she chuckles as she catches your frame, kissing your cheek as reassurance.

your girlfriend’s grunting continues, a series of possessiveness and promises bursting out of her dirty mouth, luring you into your orgasm. you do nothing but moan in heat, nodding your head, and taking every hard pound.

you grip onto her shoulders, the pace and the pounding driving you to the edge.

and then she pulls away. completely.

you fall on your bum and cry her name, watching her figure in a blur. “baby?!” you squeak out, pushing yourself up with your palms to no avail. your weak legs shake. your heart pounds as she goes over to you, her gaze predatory and her movements aggressive.

“come here,” her gentle voice calls in total opposite of her actions as she yanks you by the hair, manhandling you by the chest area, tossing your front against the sink of the bathroom. “see that?”

you see it — the smudged makeup on your flushed face, the few littering marks on the left side of your neck, your disheveled hair, the falling bunny ears. you nod your head, squeezing your thighs together to get some sort of comfort. you’re so empty all of a sudden. “fix your ears for me, bunny.”

you do as told, positioning your bunny ears on the top sides of your crown, making them look untouched. amber hums in approval.

“there we are,” she caresses your cheek with a smile, which soon turns into a smirk, its transition so terrifying. you watch intently with innocence in the mirror, aware of what she’s going to do but still the need of her to do so to confirm it. amber’s soft features turn into a sharp and hollow ghostface mask. suddenly she’s not your girlfriend. and yet with her thumb caressing your side and the rest of her fingers wrapped around you in a possessive hold, you know it's still her.

“now that we’re both in our costumes,” she sighs, her muffled voice turning sinister and rough, “i can get started.”

she pushes her front against your back like she’s burying something in there and you gasp with your head thrown back, feeling amber’s bulge nesting on your ass. “hmmm,” she hums like she’s thinking, “this doesn’t seem right, bunny. do you think it’s correct that i’m not sliding in?” she pants, trying her best to fit it in but “it just won’t budge, bunny,” she tells you.

you shake your head immediately, desperation coating your face. “n-no! n-no! it’s-“ you groan as she begins to hump on you, whatever emotion she’s portraying you cannot see. “please take out your cock!”

“where is my cock?” she teases, rubbing herself against you, positioning it as if her zipper’s unzipped. you whimper, unable to proceed with your girlfriend’s playfulness. “it’s on my ass, please! give-“

“and what’s my name, pretty girl?” you hear the octave drop of amber’s voice, the edges rough and spicy. she’s using her bedroom voice now, you know.

“please am- ah fuck! mmm!”

two deliberate spanks are harshly pressed on the sides of your asscheeks, causing you to bounce due to the constricting space. because your girlfriend is right behind you, she feels you rubbing against her dick.

“what’s my name?” she almost shouts, impatience dripping down her tone.

“ghostface! please- i-“

“please…?”

“please give me your cock, please ghostface. please, ghostface,” you moan, desperate and needy you feel like a flame that’s going to be burnt away. “bounce for me one last time then, bunny, and ghostface will give it to you.”

you nod your head excitedly, bouncing up and down against ghostface’s clad dick, feeling her thrust every up of your ass. you stop when she grips tight against your sides and a “good bunny, so good,” praise leaving her cruel mouth.

you bite your lip to contain your excitement as you hear amber unzipping her blue jeans, letting it pool around her ankles. you whimper and pout when you see her dick standing tall in her hand, nodding your head nonstop when she asks

“do you want this? do you want my dick in your pussy?”

“please, ghostface. i need your cock in my cunt. please fill me up,”

all the while giving your most innocent look, knowing what it does to your girlfriend.

amber snarls and places her left palm against your abdomen to position you — ass up, and then her left hand goes over to your shoulder blades, pushing them down, sheating herself into your pussy hole in one go.

ghostface doesn’t leave any room for adjustments, growling “take it! take it you little cock slut!”, pounding herself in and out of you, your sinful cries combined with your awfully loud pussy taking everything in.

she joins into the music with her modulated sounds, the noises so unfamiliar but you know it's her.

you didn’t know amber was into this type of roleplay, although subtle, but it probably was already a great indication of her obsession over the stab franchise. she would always joke around about being ghostface, and asking if you would consider being an accomplice when she goes into a killing spree.

“yes that’s it, that’s it you fucking slut, take it all in. dirty my cock with your juices,” she husks as you mewl and thrash around your girlfriend, your body pliable and delicate to amber’s liking.

“fuck fuck fuck,” you cuss with your head going downcast, as if you were on the best rollercoaster you’ve ever rided on. “oh my god, fuck-

“fuck!” you scream, your neck being pulled up by the throat, the blank stare of ghostface staring right back at you in the mirror. “don’t fucking look away, bitch! look at me! look at me while i fuck you!”

you cry and nod your head, mascara running down your cheeks as you glance at yourself in the mirror before looking at her. you bite your lip at the debauchery of the situation — a woman with a ghostface mask fucking you in someone else’s bathroom as a party goes on — making your pussy even wetter.

“that’s it, that’s it,” ghostface pants, her head dropping down to watch how her length disappears, your ass blocking the whole view. “take it like that, good bunny. that’s my good bunny,”

goosebumps flare up your skin as you gasp, catching your breath, all the while beginning to feel the rush of your climax. you hold onto her arm to signal her to slow down, “i- slower, ghostface-ah!” but she smacks your ass raw to no avail.

“what do you mean, slower?” amber’s voice returns, muffled and husking. she rams her cock deeper into you, every thrust pronounced and fast. “are you gonna cum, baby doll?”

“mm-! plea-!” she smacks you again, this time on the right side of your breast. “no!” she yells and fucks you harder.

amber yanks your hair back so you're arching even more, the tip of her dick hitting right into your g-spot. “god damn, right there!” you whine, meeting her thrusts in the middle. “you’re such a messy whore!” she takes her clutch away and without her support your face falls onto the sink, almost. thankfully your left arm firmly rests against the marble tile.

“i’ll decide if you get to come!

“fuck you, fuck you, i hate your sexy ass,” she groans, her thrusts getting sloppy, her pace going slow. “please,” you beg, “please let me come around your cock, ghostface,” you added the title for great measure. “please, i’ll even let you fuck me in front of the girls who wants m-“

you gasp and start feeling your blood clog up around your throat, “don’t you fucking dare try to bring the others girls up and manipulate me, you fucking bitch,” her grip vice-like around your neck. “i may be a jealous freak but that doesn’t mean i’m stupid.”

ghostface takes off her mask, revealing her flushed face and her disheveled black hair.

a sigh of relief washes over you, seeing your girlfriend after twenty minutes of being rough fucked.

“but this,” you mewl and roll your head back, thoughts being derailed off your mind, amber’s hold around your neck getting tighter, “this little fucking makes you so fucking stupid. doesn’t it?”

“u-huh. u-huh,” you agree, not really understanding what’s going on now. you’re seeing stars. “i thought so too, bunny.”

and when you thought amber’s going to finally make you come around her cock, she takes off her grip around your neck, turning you into a coughing fit, saliva dripping out of your mouth. “god, fuck. fuck this pussy. so fucking tight!” she curses it into the air whilst she stares at your pretty flushed face, all railed out because of her.

“i hate it when everyone looks at what’s mine. i hate that i can see what they think of you when they see you in these clothes,” amber huffs, biting your neck, leaving marks of purple and blue. you hiss, tilting your head to give her more room, nodding your head impatiently. “i hate when they eye fuck you when i’m around. fuck them, baby. i will fuck you in front of them. i’ll show them who you belong to.” she barks and bites your right shoulder, making you cry out in pain.

“f-fuck! i’m so close, baby, i’m- fuck!

“who do you belong to?” amber yells it in such heavy desperation that you immediately answer, both of your coils about to snap in half.

“you! i belong to ghostface!”

“that’s right-fuck me! fuck- bounce against me!” she prods her hips violently, holding yours with both of her hands, guiding you to meet her in the middle.

“that’s it, bunny! i’m coming! i’m co- come with me!”

screams and whines leave both your mouths as you reach your highs, your bodies shaking as you do so. amber chuckles as your ass automatically presses back against her front when she falls on top of you, her exhausted legs weakening.

“oh, what a good bunny!” she exhales, pushing a strand of hair in the back of your neck, kissing your flushed cheek. you hum feeling her lips’ soft caress, “you did great too,” mumbling.

“i was?” amber’s brown eyes sparkle at the praise, “yes you were. so…so good for me,” helping you turn your body to face her. “be careful,” she says, guiding you to sit on top of the toilet cover. she sits on the floor in front of you, her ghostface mask lying on top of the sink.

“so rough and so perfect at it,” you compliment teasingly, your energy on the low. you bend down, taking her chin to plant a kiss on her saccharine lips. “i love my jealous freak.”

amber hums, returning the kiss, moving her mouth into you steadily with no rush. “mmm, of course you do,”

you both giggle and pull away, deciding to take a five-minute break before going out of the bathroom to get refreshments and eventually party like you were supposed to.

“are you not going to fix your makeup, bunny?” amber asks, looking at you with admiration in her eyes. her ghostface mask wraps tightly around her fingers, draped low to be put on. you shake your head, a grin forming your freshly coated lips.

“and ruin your work? no thanks,” you kiss her on the lips for a brief moment and pull away, fixing your bunny ears for the last time. “let them know who owns me.”

amber liked that very much.

when you finally casted yourselves out of the bathroom, a soft smile coated your dirty face whilst amber held her cocky smirk, her arm wrapped possessively around your waist, the other holding the leash tied around your collar. you were glued to each other the whole night, letting everyone know who you belong to. and of course, what you both did in the bathroom.

#amber freeman x reader #amber freeman x you #scream v #scream x reader #scream 5 #scream smut #amber freeman smut

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 4 months

Note

hi! can you do a ethan laundry x reader where reader is ghostface too please ? (with smut if it’s possible)

Request: Riley!reader who wants to get revenge on sam for dewey’s death. She puts on the ghostface costume and is the mastermind for scream 6’s murders

I need someone to recreate this gif with

Warnings: mention of murders, scream 5 spoilers,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

After years of surviving the masked killers, your father lost his life during the last murder spree in Woodsboro.

All because of Samantha Carpenter. If she hadn’t gone to your father’s trailer and asked for his help, he wouldn’t have died in that hospital corridor. He would still be living his quiet life as a retired police officer with a slight drinking problem and spend his days watching shitty TV while thinking of all sorts of dumb excuses to call your mother — and hopefully one day rekindle their relationship.

But now he was gone and you wanted revenge. Revenge for taking your father from you. Revenge for killing all hopes for your parents to get back together. Revenge for making your mother so heartbroken.

You wanted to stab Samantha Carpenter and watch her bleed out.

Once you got back to New York and started college, you crossed paths with other people who had the same dark urge. A grieving father, and his two remaining kids — Richie Kirsh’s family.

‘’Quinn should go. She’s fast.’’

‘’Sam is strong,’’ the redhead reminded them, knowing her roommate better than everyone else around the table.

‘’Then Ethan should go.’’ You glanced at Ethan, sitting before you. ‘’Can you take Sam?’’

He hesitated. He was confident about the elder Carpenter, but what if someone else was at the apartment? ‘’What if Chad’s there? He’s getting close with Tara and Sam is not letting Tara out of her sight since the new wave of murders.’’

Chad could bring a challenge for Ethan. Amber was able to take him to the ground last year, but it was dark and she took him by surprise. You’d rather not take a chance.

‘’I think it would be better if we went for Gale next,’’ Bailey said, not agreeing with your plan. ‘’We have to finish Richie’s movie—’’

The second victim was going to be killed using Amber Freeman’s mask. The same mask that was used to kill your father.

You slammed your knife on the table you were all sitting at, making the faux-detective and his son jump. ‘’She’s my mother, you sick fuck,’’ you reminded the older man, not letting him finish his sentence. ‘’You will not touch a single hair on my mother’s head, got it? It’s Sam we wants, not her.’’

Although they were crime partners, they were disposable. If any of them dared touching Gale Weathers, it’s their blood that will spill next. There’s enough rage in your small body to take them down.

‘’And Tara,’’ Quinn added.

You shrugged, not really caring for the other Carpenter sister.

After everyone was dismissed, Quinn went back to her and Sam’s apartment and Bailey to the police station. You could see on his face that he was mad at you, but you were the one in charge.

A chair screeched on the old wood floor and Ethan came up to you, a dark look in his eyes. He looked like a mommy’s boy in his preppy polo from the Gap. You didn’t understand why he chose to dress up in a ‘character’. All he had to do was use a fake name and pretend to be nice to Chad.

‘’The way you talked to my dad gave me a boner,’’ he informed you, not even embarrassed by it. You glanced down, seeing the tent in Ethan’s pants. ‘’He might be okay with killing his wife, but I would never harm my mother,’’ you said. Your eyes shifted back to Ethan’s face as you grabbed his belt to pull him closer. ‘’Besides, I’m the brain of the operation. I make the calls.’’

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn @bt.oliana @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys @die4niyahhh @sl4sh3rfuck3r @radiant-whore @Meadzy21 @luci1fer @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @depthsofdespairr @bellysbeach @wilmalovegood @loupiotesworld @wenvierismycomfort @t-candy @s-al-em @darylscvmdumpster @tommysaxes @adaydreamaway08 @johannelis2302nely @aqshua @lynbubble @luiise @planetkt @vampyrgoff @adrluvh @mymultiveres @miqi-16 @not-liah @lovenats01 @doestalker @lonelywitchv2 @lausley336 @arinexeisnotworking @halforangecuts @l3ndryz @ilovelandry @your-platonic-gay-lover @danniackerman @angelxxrose @lottiefromsam @thecrowdedstreetin1944 @cinnamonbun222 @angelxxrose @lottiefromsam @zoeynicolas @thecrowdedstreetin1944 @cinnamonbun222 @pumkinnroses @cruzgrecia @sunnysunny133696 @aesthetixhoe @gizmodecaprio

All and more taglist: @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry imagine #scream #scream 6 #scream imagine #cleaning my drafts and requests

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cellythefloshie · 6 months

Text

;; meant for loving Dedicating this one to @hockeyboysimagines

Summary: Desperate to relax on the final long weekend before he has to return to St Louis, Vince and his best friend, Miles head out to the cabin for the weekend. Waiting in their tranquility, is Miles' baby sister, Samantha who keeps Vince on the verge of chaos as he has desperations of her own: to love her virginity before she goes off to university. Kinks & TW: male pov, original character, age-gap (5 years), situation ship, brother's best friend, virginity trope, teasing/banter, breast play (mild), missionary, protected sex, (i probably missed something here so please be sure to yell at me if I did) ABOUT THE OC: Face Claim: Sydney Sweeny Name: Samantha aka “Sam” aka “Sammy” aka "Princess". Is the little sister of Vince's friend Miles. Sam is 18 and is set to go off to college come fall while Vince is set to report to training camp. Word Count: 14k+

Listen to their playlist while you read.

Taglist: @starshine-hockey-girl @mp0625 @misunderstoodwerewolf @callsign-denmark @puckmaidens @xciciix @cixrosie

There were two things people knew Vince Dunn for and they were hockey and his love to party in the off-season. What they didn’t know, however, was that Vince loved to escape the chaos. He always had, ever since he was a kid, growing up back in Lindsay. There was a certain peace in it all. From the way the tall, green coniferous trees towered high into the gray and stormy skies, to the way the rain hit the windshield with its soft hollow drum, it all drew him away from the city. The cabin was one of his favorite places to escape before the hockey season, especially with the right company.

Vince could have invited anyone to go with him, a teammate or the girl he was casually fucking ‌and they would have come. But he only invited one person, his best friend, Miles. The pair had grown up playing hockey together - sharing toothless grins back when you gifted them to the tooth fairy instead of going to the dentist and hoping they could splint it back into place. And while their careers had taken them down separate paths, they had always made the summer theirs. Together, at the cabin their families used to vacation at when they were kids, Vince knew he could relax and rejuvenate - and maybe pick up a hot chick at the beach - before the season began.

But there would be no trips to the beach today. Not with how the rain was pouring down, leaving the cold wet rubber of his tires to slide over the winding Canadian highways that would narrow into roads of gravel and dirt. The slippery conditions left Vince gripping his steering wheel tight, but he wasn’t tense. He welcomed the calm that came with the rain, even if it wasn’t too kind to the car.

He could always buy another one.

The drive to the cabin was long, and he spent the entire time in silence. Vince listened to the rain as it fell, growing harder, then softer and harder again. Only for it to be drowned out by the rocks as his tire kicked them up and left them to scrape the paint on his car as he rolled to a stop in the driveway. The windshield wipers made their awful screech against the wet glass as he undid his seatbelt and leaned across his center console to look at the car parked beside him. The water against the glass distorted its body, but he could tell it was some kind of sedan in a color he didn’t like. And he knew it didn’t belong to Miles. He didn’t know whose it was, but he was going to find out real quick.

Reaching into the backseat, he fisted the handles of his duffle bag. He lifted it with ease - he only packed enough for the weekend - and lifted it up over his head to keep his hair from the rain. But it didn’t stop the icy rain from soaking into his t-shirt and sending chills down the length of his spine. It left him dancing through the front door with zero consideration for knocking. This was like a second home to him. He didn’t need anyone’s permission, and he was curious.

Miles didn’t mention that anyone else was coming when they had made the plans. And the last time Vince checked, Miles wasn’t seeing anyone.

Tossing his duffel bag on the floor, he looked over the living room. No sign of life.

“Mom?” He called out, knowing he wouldn’t hear his own mother calling back to him. Miles’ mother had been just as much a mother to him as his own, so it all slipped off his tongue with ease.

“Dad?” He called out again as he kicked off one wet sneaker and then the other - still nothing.

There was nothing in the kitchen either, as he walked on through. Vince even opened the fridge. Nothing. Whoever was there didn’t plan to stay long.

His every footstep was quiet as he moved through the main floor and up to the spiral staircase that led up to the second story. There, he looked up and down the hall and didn’t notice a thing out of place. That was until he took a single step down and his bright eyes caught the familiar glint of the tarnished metal door handle in the sunlight. Peering up over the top step, he noticed every single door on the second floor was open, except for one.

Samantha’s door.

Little Sammy Fraser. Though she probably wasn’t so little anymore. He hadn’t seen her since St. Louis drafted him, and that was five years in the past now. She had been only thirteen then. And through Miles, she was the baby sister Vince had never wanted but would torment all the same. And after so long, it was due time he caused a little trouble again.

Vince’s lips pulled back in a too-perfect troublemaker’s grin as he cracked his knuckles and took the quick steps onto the second-floor landing. It only took a single stride from the top of the stairs to reach for her door, his large hand gripping the cold handle and pushing it open without a single thought in his brain about why he shouldn’t. And then he saw the very reason he should have knocked.

Samantha sat on the bed, once propped up against the pillows, she sat completely upright now. Her expression, mortified. Vince had caught her in nothing but a tight pair of denim shorts and a bright pink lace bra. The color alone would have been enough to make him stare. Her heavy cleavage - that he didn’t quite remember her having before - was the fixation of his stare. Even as she tried to cover herself with her arms, Vince’s gaze didn’t break. That was until he realized she wasn’t alone in the room.

Beside the bed, half dressed though, Vince was sure that wasn’t always the case, was some lanky teenager. The guy couldn’t have been older than nineteen, his hair a mess, and his shirt lost somewhere in the room. It only took a second for Vince to conclude what was happening there, especially when he watched the panic on the kid’s face melt into relief when he realized that they had not been interrupted by her parents or Miles.

“Who’s this?” the young man, if Vince would even call him that, questioned as he looked up from where he fastened his belt around his middle.

It was a valid question. Vince wasn’t her brother, and he sure as hell wasn’t her parents catching them alone in her room. If it had been, the kid would have been as good as dead. Though, with Vince, he still might be.

“I could be asking you the same thing, dipshit,” Vince shouted back as he stepped into the room with no hesitation or regard for the fact that Samantha still sat nearly petrified on her bed. He didn’t dare look at her, not wanting to remind himself just what state of undress she was in. That was until he heard her broken words pierce the air. It drew his gaze up to her as he stepped towards the bed and fisted the young man’s t-shirt in his hand. Then, he threw it at him.

“Vince don’t-” Samantha had said.

Vince was quick to answer. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

But his firm words felt soft against his tongue. It felt swollen in his mouth at the sight of her sitting there on the bed, her blonde hair a mess that framed her features and hung over her bare shoulders. Vince held his breath, his eyes burning in their socket as he desperately fought to keep his eyes fixated on her face. On how her wide eyes were glassy with the threat of crying, and how her full bottom lips seemed to quiver. But he was but a man. A man with eyes that could clearly see all that tempted him.

Samantha knelt on the bed, her shirt still lost. She was still bare from the waist up, except for the bright pink bra that he could only see glimpses of from behind her arms as she crossed them over her chest. It was her attempt at modesty, but it only emphasized her already eye-catching cleavage. The mere weight of her breast alone left the fabric looking flimsy as Vince’s bright eyes flickered over each swell.

Vince had to choke out his next words. “Put a goddamn shirt on.”

In the time that Vince was staring, Sam’s guest had pulled on his shirt, but he had yet to make any attempt to leave. Vince’s skin went hot, his jaw going slack as his head leaned back on his shoulders. His shoulder rose and fell in a heavy sigh, and then as Sam groaned out his name in protest, Vince lurched at him. His hand fisted around the guy's shirt collar, his knuckles white as he tugged on the fabric and‌ pulled the lanky trespasser towards the bedroom door.

Leaving Sam and her harsh words behind him, Vince moved back down the path he had come. Down the winding staircase, and through the kitchen before he came to the front door. The young man stumbled behind him. He tripped on the stairs and then his own feet, but Vince didn’t slow down. Vince would have dragged him all the way to the front door if he had to, and he only stopped when he came to the door. It was a brief pause, just long enough time to step into his sneakers before his free hand reached for the door handle and he stepped outside.

The rain filled the gravel driveway with murky puddles that soaked into white socks as Vince shoved the uninvited guest out towards his car. He hadn’t given him the time to put on his own shoes, and for a moment Vince considered making him leave without shoes. It would have been a cruel thing, but only a small punishment for trying and failing to get into Samantha’s pants. But then, he would have to make up an explanation for the random, too-small pair of shoes to Miles. And he wasn’t going to rat on Sam. The embarrassment of him catching her would be punishment enough for her.

Reaching back inside, Vince hooked his fingers around the shoes and tossed them out the door and into the driveway. It was a shame really, he had good taste, but it was satisfying all the same as he shouted, “If I see you around her again, I’ll kick your ass, kid.”

He scrambled for his shoes, but the rain had already soaked through his socks, and for a moment Vince met his eyes. They stood in the rain. Vince’s confident stare met the teenager’s terrified as they were both soaked by the downpour and then the man ran. He took off through a puddle with complete disregard for how wet he became and moved straight for the sedan, which Vince only saw now was some kind of Subaru. As he expected, the kid took off down the driveway like some kind of idiot and disappeared down the road before Samantha could reach the doorway behind him.

“What the fuck? Vince!” was how she greeted him.

Turning in place, Vince smiled, even if he knew he shouldn’t have. If she hadn’t been upset already, his smile was sure to do it as Vince turned in place to face her.

Sam stood in the doorway, fully dressed now, which brought on a sigh of relief - even as she stepped out into the rain with him and placed both hands on his chest. She shoved him firmly, her soft features twisted into a scowl as the cold rain hit her. But she didn’t seem to care. She stood there, away from the cover of the awning, and let the rain soak her. Her straight blond hair began to kink and curl as it dampened, and her white linen blouse became damn near see-through as the rain sent it to cling to her curves.

Again, Vince struggled not to stare.

“I’m doing you a favour.”

“A favour? You just stranded me here!”

One of her arms reached out wide, gesturing to the now empty spot in the driveway, but Vince’s eyes fixated between her lips and her collarbone and glanced so subtly down to her breasts.

“He was your ride, huh?”

“Ah yeah!” Her attitude only left him grinning further, and any guilt he might have gotten hearing he had gotten her stranded at the cabin with him and Miles for the weekend was gone.

Vince took a step forward, his body nearly colliding with hers as he towered over her. He looked down, smirking as his dark, wet curls hung down into his eyes. “I’m your ride now.”

He watched as her hardened expression wavered. Sam was trying too hard to be tough. It was almost laughable. “You can’t just walk in here and-”

“And what?” He interjected, challenging Sam. It sent her face flushed with colour, but the rosiness of her cheeks paled with his next words. “You’re lucky it wasn’t your brother that found you.”

“Fuck,” her bright blue eyes shot open wide, “he’s on his way?”

“Should be here soon,” Vince spoke, his words kept their cockiness as one hand reached up to push back his wet curls, “he would have kicked that guy's ass, and you know it, Sammy.”

She could only nod as they stood there, so wet that the rain no longer phased them. Sam was stubborn and always had been. She was not ready to concede to him. And Vince? He liked to stir up trouble, even with his best friend’s sister.

“What were you thinking coming here with a guy like that?”

“Guy like that?” Sam scoffed in return, offended.

The pout that took her features brought Vince to laughter. She couldn’t be serious, right? It was clear just by the car he drove and the shoes he wore, what kind of guy he was. Someone who was superficial, materialistic even, and put the thrill of his ride before the safety of his passenger. Vince didn’t like it, and Sam, well, she didn’t like what Vince was implying. That was clear in how her arms came up to cross over her chest. He knew it was something she did to show him just how unimpressed she was with him, but all Vince could focus on was her breasts. He could see them through her shirt. From the bright pink lace to each swell and the cleavage in between.

“Believe me, I know the type,” Vince told her, his voice firm as he looked down at her.

Her cheeks had flushed a brilliant shade of pink as embarrassment consumed her, and silence hung between them. Vince didn’t need her to say it to know that he was right, and she didn’t want to tell him. His smile only grew as they stood there, getting drenched by the rain.

“That’s why you had him drive you all the way out here, didn’t you?” Vince had a bit of a laugh in his words. “So the guy could get in your pants without your parents getting in the way. I’d say I’m sorry, princess, but as I said, I did you a favour. The guy couldn’t find the clit if you drew him a map.”

Those should have been the words that ended the conversation. That brought Samantha to the silence of her shame and embarrassment and left Vince with a cocky smile as he took his stride towards the front door. Towards dryness and warmth.

But Samantha was quick to stop him in his tracks with a soft scoff. “As if you could do any better.”

It’s a weak, unexpected jab that left Vince laughing in the door frame. “Damn right, I could.”

Vince would never admit it, not to Sam and not to anyone, but he had taken more women to bed than he would ever want his mother to find out about. He couldn’t define what a serious relationship was because any attempt at a relationship he had didn’t last more than a series of late-night fucks. But that left him well-practiced and confident in his abilities in the bedroom.

He had no doubt in his mind that he could leave Samantha satisfied, but the thought alone should have been enough to leave him choking. He had never thought about her like that before - well, before now.

There would be no ridding his mind of the vision of her back in her bed with her body so freely accessible to his gaze. And now, as they took in the rain so completely soaked that her clothes clung to every curve of her body.

It should have left him feeling dirty. Samantha was Miles’ baby sister. His best friend’s baby sister. But she wanted so desperately to be fucked. Vince could hear it in her strained words as she challenged him, and in her stare as she held his, her wide blue eyes glassy and hopeless. She was practically asking her to fuck him with so few words, and he was so close to caving.

Vince cussed under his breath as he reached out to her, a single hand finding her back and pressing against it firmly. “Get in the house,” he told her and let the gentle guidance of his touch usher her back inside the cabin and out of the rain.

Together they stood in the narrow entryway, so close he could feel her warmth cut through the cold air as he reached into his back pocket for his phone. While he dialled, he held her gaze, silently telling her that their conversation wasn’t over. Then he brought his phone up to his ear, and her face fell. “Hey buddy, I just arrived. How far out are you?”

He was talking to her brother.

Sam inched closer to him, her expression soft as she tried to make out what her brother was saying, but Vince only let her hear what he wanted her to hear.

“You haven’t left yet?” His brow raised up as he looked at Samantha, her panic only growing as he spoke. “Nah, it’s all good. You’ll never guess who’s here…”

Vince has to look away as he trails off. It’s the only way to keep himself from smiling. His eyes fixated on the window, watching as the raindrops fell over the cold glass as he answered, “Yeah, your sister.”

The mere mention of her left Sam lurching for his arm. Both of her hands found one of his forearms, clutching to him with her desperation and drawing his gaze from the rain and back to her face. She didn’t have to say a single word. Her eyes did all the pleading for her. Still wide, still glassy, but begging. Begging him not to tell Miles what he had caught her doing up in her room. And he wouldn’t, Vince liked the leverage.

“One of her friends dropped her off,” he paused, listening to Miles as he listed off some of her friends' names as if it mattered who left her there, “yeah, that’s the one. She’ll keep me out of trouble until you get here.”

Or they would get into some trouble of their own. That fate still was yet to be determined.

His thumb stroked over the screen of his phone, ending the call and sending it to darkness before he placed it face down on a nearby console table. Vince thought the simple action would get him off the hook, that Sam would back off and let her guard down, relieved that he didn’t let her little secret slip, but she remained, her hands on his forearm as they stood in the entryway.

“He’s going to be a few hours,” Vince told her.

And her brow raised up with her sweet and simple, “So?”

“So,” he hesitated for a moment, his tongue dragging over his lower lip. His body rocked with a careful sigh, unsure if he should entertain the dangerous temptations in his mind, but he did it anyway. “So, you want to lose your virginity as desperately as I think you do?”

Her hands fell from him, her jaw slacked, “I’m not-”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Vince interrupted her firmly, his cold eyes hardening, “Couldn’t get it done on prom night, so you sneak out here the summer before college just to get it out of the way? I got that little fantasy, right?”

Samantha’s face faded free of any expression, shock consuming her. And Vince can only smile. Fuck, he loved being right.

But Sam didn’t answer him, so he pressured her further. “So you don’t go in all prudish and innocent?”

“Vince,” she spoke his name so slowly, so meekly, it gave him goosebumps.

“Did you even bring condoms?”

She paled.

And he laughed.

Of course, she hadn’t come prepared.

With a careful tug, Vince was out of her grasp and moving towards his bag that he had discarded on the floor. He had only packed enough for the long weekend, but what he searched for, he kept buried at the bottom. It was half empty, crushed by the weight of his belongings, a box of condoms. Vince always carried some with him, let it be in his car, in his bag or in his pocket. He was always prepared. Unlike Sam, who watched him from her place in the entryway as she chewed at her bottom lip.

At the sight of them, her eyes lit up like he had some sort of prize in his hands. Any worry she had seemed to fade with her offering, a thank you on the tip of her tongue as she reached out for the box, only for Vince to tug it just out of her reach with a smile of his own.

“I’ll give them to you, on one condition,” he told her, only for her brow to raise in a silent question. He answered, “I’m the one who fucks you this weekend. Not that idiot kid, not some lifeguard, me.”

Vince didn’t know what to expect when he had made the proposition, but he hadn’t been expecting for her to take a step towards him, a cocky little smile on her own lips. He was struggling to accept that she may not be the timid teenager he remembered. Samantha was very much all grown up now, and she knew exactly what he wanted from her now.

“And what makes you think I’d want it to be you?” Sam’s question was slow as her large blue eyes looked up at him through thick lashes.

And Vince laughed.

It was a low rumbling as he smirked and cocked his head to the side slowly. “You wanted it to be him?” His arm raised lazily, gesturing to the door that he had forced her little friend through.

They both fell into silence, their smiles small and their stares unbroken until she backed off and moved for the spiral staircase to begin her ascent.

“I’ll take that as a no?” His words are a question, not a statement that had her freezing halfway up the staircase to look back at him as he remained in the entryway.

Her smile remained small, a cocky troublemaker’s grin that told Vince that he just might have gotten himself in over his head with her and her words only confirmed that for him. “It’s an; I’m thinking about it.”

It rained all day, and into the night, trapping Vince inside the cabin, awaiting an answer to the proposition that hung too heavily in the air. The longer he had to wait, the more conflicted he felt - the more stupid he felt. He should have never put Sam in this position. He should have never, so bluntly, asked to fuck her. Yet, she was considering it. Considering him. She was interested, maybe only a little or greatly, and it was a weight that hung over him as he lounged in the living room and waited for the rain to pass. For an answer. For Miles to arrive.

Miles arrived before the rain could stop, and before he could receive an answer from Sam. She had remained up in her room, hidden away until her brother arrived. Vince almost wished she had stayed there. Seeing her in her little shorts that were made more for sleeping than covering anything up and her sweatshirt left him near choking on the fact that their window to do anything had closed.

Vince wasn’t all that mad about that fact. It would save him the headache of having to deal with the consequences later. But that didn’t mean the idea of it all didn’t linger. Samantha’s exposed body was all he could think about when she was in the room, even if she had covered herself up. The worst part was what she did with the knowledge of him wanting to fuck her. When she could have told her brother about the pass he had made on her, she withheld it from him. Much like Vince, it gave her leverage.

If he told Miles about the guy he had caught her with, she would tell him that Vince was all too willing to take on the responsibility of taking her virginity himself. So they both remained tight-lipped and casual, but Sam teased him.

Every playful glance she gave him, every moment her hands had been so casually placed on him, stewed in the back of his mind and his needs were desperately close to boiling over. The thoughts left him tossing and turning in bed at night. The rain was gone, and the hollow sound of the drops hitting the window couldn’t drive each forbidden thought from him. They couldn’t drown away the thought of what it might feel like to touch the smooth skin of her waist, or what she might sound like when he made her cum. They were thoughts that ran rampant, leaving his body shimmering with sweat and his cock raging so hard it ached.

Vince needed a distraction, and he found it out on the back porch where the silver moonlight glistened off the lake water in the distance and the cold autumn air that threatened the last few days of summer left him shivering. Any other night, he would have retreated inside, but he needed the chill. It raised goosebumps over the flesh of his arms and his chest as he stood, leaning against the porch railing, in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. And while it was cold and uncomfortable, it calmed him.

The crest of the water against the shore freed his mind, and the ache slowly faded. It all lulled Vince into thinking that he just might get to go back up to his room. That he might just be able to get some sleep.

That was until he heard the open and shut of the flimsy screen door behind him. A heavy sigh shook his shoulders, and for a moment he thought he might just see his breath in the air as he let it go. Then he let himself look back, hoping to find Miles, but the sight of Samantha was what greeted him. He almost cursed and knew he should have gone back inside at that moment and left her alone. But his eyes fixated on the hem of her oversized sweater and how it crept up the skin of her thigh with each stride. It left him convinced she was wearing nothing else and forced him to look back out over the lawn and down to the lake water that he suddenly felt like he was drowning in.

“Sneaking out?” Vince asked, his brow raised up even though he wasn’t looking up at Sam for her to see it.

“I just wanted to get some air,” Sam answered him simply, and while he didn’t look at her as she spoke, he felt her warmth as she leaned up against the railing beside him, “can’t sleep.”

“Yeah, me either,” Vince sighed and reached a hand up to knot in his curls.

“Got a lot on your mind?” Her sweet question left a smile on Vince’s lips.

She didn’t even know the half of it, and he knew better than to indulge her. It would only get them both into trouble.

“Something like that,” Vince sighed, his head turning to give her a quick glance.

He regretted it in an instant. Samantha was petite, standing there at his side. He towered over her by seven inches still - maybe more. And while her hooded sweatshirt consumed much of her, there was no stopping his eyes from dragging down the angles of her legs and back up again The simple movement of resting her chin on her arms raised the sweater up inches on her body, the hem resting on the curve of her ass and confirmed that she was wearing nothing else but a pretty pair of panties.

Vince cleared his throat.

“You really should put some clothes on if you’re going to be prancing around here.”

“Prancing?” Sam asked him, her words sweet as she cocked her head to the side. She seemed so innocent, so naïve, but she knew exactly what she was doing.

Toying with Vince.

Tempting him.

“I’ve seen that little hop in your step since our little conversation earlier-”

“Oh, have you?” Sam cut in, “Maybe I’ve always had that little hop in my step. You’ve just never cared enough to notice.”

“Of course, I care,” Vince’s eyes rolled as he stepped in closer to her, sighing under the feeling of her warmth as he was so close to touching her body as he had wanted to all night, “that’s why I never let myself notice.”

“So what changed?” Sam asked him slowly, leaning in and looking up.

She looked so pretty there in the moonlight. The pale silver light illuminated all of her features, and for a moment Vince found himself distracted, staring. Samantha’s skin had been kissed by summer, giving her this warmth that Vince wanted to lean into. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of blue, so bright beneath stray blond locks that the breeze tossed into her face. And her lips, so pink, pouted and kissable, he was one mere temptation away from taking her face in both hands and drawing her in for a self-indulgent kiss that would answer so many of the questions that plagued her.

But his silence didn’t lure her in. It left her fumbling with the sleeves of her sweater as she sought any semblance of clarification. “I mean, I know why you wouldn’t have before, but I’m still my brother’s baby sister…”

That would never change.

Samantha would always be Miles’ baby sister. 5 years younger than both of them. The kid they were stuck babysitting for years - but she wasn’t a kid anymore. And he couldn’t offer her a more complicated answer, even though he wished he could. This wasn’t some love story of a lifetime in the making. This wasn’t some kind of connection he had felt for years, just waiting for the right moment to act on it.

No, this was primal. Selfish.

When Vince had found her in her bedroom, so vulnerable and leaving so little to the imagination, she showed him almost all of what she could offer him. That enough was enough to catch his attention, to plant that nagging thought of wanting to take her to bed. Then he learned she was still untouched. A virgin. And it only made her more desirable.

All he could think about was her tits, and now her ass as it peeked out from what little coverage her cotton panties and her sweatshirt concealed from him. It leaves his mouth dry, his tongue licking over his lips to moisten them.

Then, he doesn’t answer his question and instead asks one of his own.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Samantha narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re dodging my question.”

He nodded. She wasn’t wrong. But his mind was clouded, focused on her body, not her words, and he didn’t think he could string together an answer she deserved, never mind an answer she would want to hear.

“I respect your brother, but-”

“But?” Sam interjected, and she inched so close to him he had to shut his eyes to keep himself from temptation.

A low groan vibrated through him, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose, knowing all too well he might regret what he was about to say. “Your first time should be something special.”

Her scoff was just short of a laugh and left Dunn’s stomach heavy. He was right. He regretted saying that.

“Your ego is, wow-” He could hear the smile in her voice as he let his eyes open to take in the darkness. Vince watched her as she stepped away from him and the railing and spun around as if her laughter was sweet music. When her feet stilled, Samantha leaned up against the screen door. It was then she spoke again, a smile in her words, “What makes you so special, Vince?”

“I know what I’m doing-”

She barely let him answer before she laughed again. Mocking him.

“Do you? On whose word, your own?”

Vince’s jaw set as he turned to face her fully, his eyes dragging over her features that were alight with amusement. She was playing a little game with him, and he was letting her.

“You want testimonials?”

“I don’t need to hear shit from the bunnies you fuck.”

There was a bit of harshness in her words, and Vince couldn’t tell if it was judgment or jealousy because she wasn’t wrong. Vince couldn’t even count the women he fucked since being drafted in 2015. Hell, even before that, he had developed a reputation for sleeping around. From the OHL to the AHL and the 3 seasons in the NHL that included a Stanley Cup Win - Vince had many options when it came to which women he took to bed. He had one in every city he played in and knew that the moment he sent that all too typical “you up?” text, they would be catching a cab to his hotel room. Because he was just that good in bed.

“Sounds like you’re jealous.” His words were a baseless accusation, but they challenged her in a way that left her confidence wavering for a moment before she found her words again.

“Jealous? No,” she hummed, her chin tilted up so she could meet his eyes. Samantha didn’t shy away from him, and Vince both loved and hated that. Part of him wanted her to be meek, to both accept the imminent collapse that would be her in his bed or go to the opposite extreme and reject him so harshly that he never contemplated the thought of being between her thighs again. Yet, she continued to toy with him just as he toyed with her.

“But I know you. I’ve known you for a long time. You’re hot, don’t get me wrong. But you’re also filthy rich. An athlete. I’d fake it too if that meant I might get a piece of that life. Fuck, some might just do it for the bragging right alone,” there was a humour in her voice, one that dropped into a low hum as her lips curled with her next words, “but I’d bet you couldn’t find the clit if I drew you a map.”

It was Vince who laughed as he took his lazy strides away from the porch railing. Bare feet stepped over wet wood, the chill coursing up the length of his now heated body. He felt on the verge of sweating as he came to stand toe to toe with Samantha, towering over her and trapping her with her back against the door. As if he could risk getting any closer to her, he took in a steady inhale as he braced himself against the screen door, giving her nowhere to run.

He stared down at her, and her up at him as they stood in silence. The only sound around them was the water of the lake in the distance crashing against the rocks on the shore and the trickle of water down the eavestrough as the remnants of the rain slowly faded into the night. Then, so faintly, yet so loudly in his ears, he heard Samantha take a quivering breath.

He was so close to her, and her to him, that he could feel the night’s chill on her body, and he was sure that she could feel every breath he took on her cheeks as he stared down at her.

“Let me warm you up a bit?”

Full pink lips parted to speak, but she found no words. His mere proximity had rendered her to silence, and he hadn’t even touched her yet. Samantha could only nod as she looked up at him, her hands fisting the too-long sleeves of her sweatshirt.

If he had wanted to be cruel, he would have pulled back and went up to bed. To leave her standing there until she realized just how close he was to kissing her, to touching her. He would have loved to tease her, leaving her craving his kiss on her lips when she was just a breath away from having it. But not even Vince could deny himself of just a simple pleasure when he had gone through the entirety of his day at the cabin thinking about it.

Vince leaned in nice and slow, almost waiting for Samantha to speak a single word. To tell him to stop before he could even taste her, but that moment never came. Instead, he watched as her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted in a subtle breath as she welcomed the caution of his kiss. Her lips were smooth against his own, so soft and plush that Vince’s hand which had lain flat against the door gripped into a fist. Samantha returned his kiss, easing his cautions, and what little restraint he had was quickly dwindling.

His tongue ventured out through parted lips, coaxing her lips into parting and giving himself a taste of her. Vince’s tongue stroked against her own, and he heard the softest of moans as she let it slip into his mouth. She tasted sweet, like strawberries, and was only beginning to ease the hunger that consumed him.

It was a hunger that had him throwing all caution away now that he had gotten a taste of her. His body pressed firm into her while one hand remained up above her against the door. His other hand explored. It found the curve of her waist, craving so desperately to travel upwards to grope at her breast, but Vince’s touch travelled down. Down along the curve of her waist and over the swell of her lip before stroking over the skin of her exposed thigh and settling between her legs.

Samantha quivered as her breath hitched. Vince’s fingers had stroked over the thin cotton of her panties and dipped down just low enough to rest just over her clit. Then his hand stilled, and his kiss halted. Vince just stood there, his fingers a ghost of his touch over her clit without giving her the satisfaction of pressing into it.

Vince just wanted her to know that he knew exactly where it was.

Drawing back slowly, Vince smirked down at Samantha, who looked to be on the verge of collapsing if it wasn’t for the support of the screen door against her back.

“You should go back up to bed before we do something stupid,” Vince tells her slowly, and she still can only nod.

She took a moment to find her composure there against the door before she fixed her sweater and pushed off of it. She didn’t have to go far, taking only a mere step before she turned around and pulled it open to let herself inside. But he wasn’t following her, and it left her lingering in the doorway as she spoke. “You’re not coming?”

“I’m going to need a minute,” Vince admitted, stepping back to lean against the porch. The moonlight caught him just right and cast the shadow of his own erection against his thigh. He didn’t hide it. He wanted her to look. To see the effect she had on him, and what he can offer her in return.

And she noticed. It was clear in how red her cheeks became, and how quick she was to look away when he caught her admiring the outline of his cock. Samantha’s hair fell down into her face in a golden curtain that hid her bashful smile as she retreated through the door with nothing more than a simple, “goodnight”.

It shut hollowly behind her, leaving Vince to stand on his own. He welcomed the breeze, and he welcomed the quiet, but calm did not come as easily. Vince has to fight off every corrupt thought, the feeling of her skin that lingered on his fingertips and the taste of her on his tongue. The mere essence of her remained with him even after the night’s cold shocked Vince back into a calm, and as he returned inside. Samantha was a lingering thought as he moved through the main level, up the spiral staircase, and when he stopped just outside her door.

His eyes dragged up and down the door frame, fixating on the tarnished handle as he stepped a little closer, his hand outstretched, only for it to ball into a fist before he could take it in his hold. He shouldn’t. He couldn’t. And he sighed as he took a step back and retreated into his room for a restless night of sleep.

Come morning, Vince did what he should have done since he caught Samantha in her room. He kept his distance. After a restless night, he woke up with the sun. It was barely cresting over the horizon when he had pulled on his sneakers and went for a run through the familiar trails that wound through the trees that surrounded the cabin. When he returned, Sam and Miles were both making breakfast. And while his stomach growled with hunger, he made his excuses and disappeared into the bathroom for a quick, cold shower. It was only when the kitchen was clear; that he stood at the counter and ate breakfast alone. Strawberries, eggs, and toast. The strawberries were all that remained on his plate when he was done, knowing he could not last a day where the taste of them lingered on his tongue.

Then Vince spent his day away from the cabin, out on the water. Unlike the day before when the rain left it feeling more like autumn than the last long weekend of summer, the sun was out in full force before noon. He enjoyed every moment of its warm embrace as he whipped around the lake on the back of a jet ski.

Out on the lake, it was just him and Miles. The perfect distraction from the temptations that waited for him back at the cabin. But it didn’t keep his mind from wandering, wondering. When the warmth of the sun met the chill of the water and didn’t shock him, Vince thought about Samantha. About what happened the night before, and what she might be doing. He hadn’t seen her since he had given her the cold shoulder at breakfast, but it didn’t stop him from hoping that she was staying out of trouble.

Vince got his answer when he pulled up at the dock behind Miles just after noon. Samantha was down by the edge of the water, her body glistening with water as she climbed out from a swim. Even from a distance, he could see how it glimmered like glitter as it travelled down her curves as she made no effort to dry off. She had pulled her hair up in a claw lip, giving him a better view of her body than she had unintentionally given him the day before. And her blue and white gingham bikini was too tiny, leaving very little to the imagination. She might as well have been standing in front of him naked.

Vince had to bite his tongue as he threw his life jacket down on the dock. He wanted to desperately to tell her to go inside, to put some clothes on, but he couldn’t give any suggestion that his view of her had changed. Vince needed to be unbothered, even if the mere sight of her made his skin crawl in the best of ways. Especially as Miles led the way back up to the cabin.

With his eyes fixated on the ground, Vince followed Miles’ path with no guidance beyond watching his ankles. It was the only way he could keep himself from staring at Samantha as they walked up the dock - but the moment Miles called out to his sister, Vince’s eyes strayed from his hollow steps on the dock and found their way back to Samantha.

She had settled back in a lounge chair at the edge of the water, her petite body sprawled out in a way that almost looked staged. Like she was waiting for someone to take her picture. Sam wanted him to look at her. And in her hands, she held a book. Not that Vince cared to notice it as his eyes dragged up the length of her legs. It was her brother who made him aware of it in the cradle of her hold.

“Good book?” Miles’ words were simple as he approached his sister, Vince following in his shadow.

“Very. I’m almost done,” Samantha held up her book with one hand, and let the other fall on her sunglasses to push them back up into her hair, “just started today.”

“You’ve been out there that long?” Miles asked, and Vince almost groaned. He just wanted to get back in the house, but he wasn’t about to push past Miles to do it.

It would beg too many questions if he didn’t loiter. If he didn’t wait for the two siblings to finish whatever mundane conversation they were having.

“Yeah,” her answer was slow as she looked past her book, and to her brother and for a moment Vince was sure her eyes flickered to him. Just to make sure he was looking. And he was. So shamefully, he was.

“Did you put on sunscreen?” Miles' question left both Vince and Samantha groaning, and he could only hope that Miles didn’t notice.

“Of course,” Sam sat up, almost offended by the accusation, and her breast seemed to bounce at the motion. Testing the flimsy hold of her bikini and catching the stare of his eyes as they settled.

“Recently?”

“You sound just like mom,” Sam tossed back at Miles and set her book down on the chair beside her and she reached for her sunscreen.

It was the end of her conversation with her brother, sending him up the path back up to the house. And Vince moved after him, but Samantha wasn’t done with him yet.

“Vince, hey,” she called out to him, stilling his steps and drawing his gaze back to her as she sat in her chair, “can you help me get my back?”

Sam wore a devilish smile on her lips as she held out the sunscreen to him, wiggling it silently as if her body alone wasn’t enough to entice him.

“Sammy,” Vince sighed, his jaw slack as his eyes rolled.

She shouldn’t be asking him to do these things, but she knew that.

And he should have said no and gone back up to the house with Miles, but he couldn’t. She knew that too.

“Please,” she pouted her bottom lip out at him, and it had him backtracking.

The smile Sam gave him was one of triumph as he took the sunscreen from her hand and sat down on the chair next to her. He kept his eyes fixated on the bottle and the lotion as he squeezed it out into the palm of his hand. It was all he could do to keep himself from staring, but he regretted it the moment he looked up.

While he had been distracting himself, Samantha had reached back with both hands and unknotted the back of her strapless bikini. Vince had looked up just in time to watch as the wet bathing suit fell away and he panicked.

With one hand full of sunscreen, he dropped the bottle that he held in the other and reached out to her. It was a reflex that fried his every thought process. One moment, he was telling himself he needed to stop the fabric from falling away from her body. He needed to stop Samantha from exposing her breasts. And the next, he froze, mere inches from her body at the realization that if he stopped that fabric from falling, he would have a hand full of her breast.

His hand flexed as he flinched back, his eyes narrowing as the fabric fell, but her arms came up to cradle her breast in her hold. He wanted to curse at her, to shout for being so reckless, but he didn’t want to draw in any unnecessary attention.

Vince could only sigh.

“Jesus, Sammy. What are you doing?”

Her smile was unwavering as she sat there facing him so confidently with her smile. Not even the risk of her own breast spilling over the hold of her arms had her shying away from him as she innocently answered, “What? I don’t want to get tan lines!”

And he almost believed her. Almost.

If it weren’t for the testing twinkle in her eyes, he would have thought it was an innocent thing. But paired with her little smirk, Vince knew she was teasing him.

He watched as she turned in place so that her back was to him. A heavy breath caught in his chest when he thought she might have to reach a hand up to hold her hair away from her back before his eyes flicked up to the clip that held her hair in place. The clip alone helped put him a little at ease, even if his body was rigid as he reached out to spread the lotion over the flesh of her back. His hand moved in gentle strokes as his eyes looked up at the cabin to ensure her brother had gone inside before he let his eyes return to her.

Before he could see it, Vince could feel Sam’s reaction to his touch. She was melting beneath his fingers, her shoulders falling forward and her head lulling back on her shoulders. Vince watched as the tension of her muscles disappeared and he smirked as she leaned back into the caress of his hands.

“I think you’re just making up excuses for me to touch you,” his words were a low growl as he leaned in to mutter them in her ear. There was a long moment of silence that fell between them, and he waited for her to deny it, but she didn’t. “You like how my hands feel on your body?”

His words hit her in a breath, and she refused to answer him with words. But her body was all he needed to know about the effect he was having on her. He noticed how her toes flex in anticipation, and how her hips angled her pelvis down. Vince couldn’t see what exactly Sam had angled herself into, but he was sure she was one touch away from grinding against the lounge chair.

“My offer still stands,” Vince told her as his hands settled on the curve of her waist and gripped her flesh carefully. It’s a touch that leaves her glancing over her shoulder at him, her face-framing strands falling into her eyes as she bites at her lower lip.

There was no more wonder. No more contemplation. She wanted him and Vince could only wish that he could take her right then and there, but it was too risky. Too stupid.

“Tonight?” she offered in a quiet yelp as Vince guided her hips in a careful roll that sent her cunt grinding against the lounge chair.

“No, we can’t do it here, not with your brother around,” Vince sighed, leaning forward to place a careful, reassuring kiss on her shoulder, “I have an idea, but you’re going to have to follow my lead. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “okay.”

With her answer, Vince left her there, out on the lawn in the embrace of the sun, and didn’t see her again until dinner.

The three of them sat around the small dining table, the sound of forks scraping against glassware filling the silence between mouthfuls and casual conversation. It was with them, all together, that Vince could put his attempt of a plan into motion.

“Hey, man,” Vince nodded to Miles across the table casually, “can I take your truck into town in the morning? Early. I just want to grab a few things, and I don’t think my car will handle the back roads.”

His eyes glanced over at Sam as he spoke. This is it, princess, he thought as she watched her straighten up in her seat, her fingers toying with the drawstring on her sweatshirt hood.

“Yeah, go for it,” was the answer Vince expected, and the one that Miles gave to him.

“Thanks man, I-”

“Vince,” Sam cut in, and Vince had to try not to smile. “Do you mind if I tag along? I, ah, I need a few things.” The way she emphasized the word, things didn’t leave room for Vince or Miles to question it.

All Vince needed to do was accept, and he did it with a look of annoyance to hide the satisfaction that had him melting back into his seat. “Yeah, that’s fine. Just be up on time or I’m leaving without you-”

On the cold morning, the truck’s windows were fogged, and the cab left chilled even as the motor ran. Vince’s stiff, tired fingers toyed with the dials of the air conditioning that was left on. He was quick to turn it off, replacing the cool air with a gust of warmth that left him leaning back in the driver’s seat. Beside him, resting on the bench seat, was a pile of heavy blankets and on top of them was the box of condoms. He couldn’t hide the crooked smile that consumed him at the sight of the tattered cardboard as his head leaned back against the headrest. He had waited all weekend to get to use them. His original intention was to pick up some random, desperate woman from the beach, but his plans quickly changed because of Samantha. And while it left a heavy feeling in his gut, his cock was already half-hard just waiting for her.

Watching through a patch in the window that he had wiped clear of the fog with his fist, Vince waited. For how long, he didn’t really know, but it was long enough that doubt crept in. His hot breath mixed with the cold air, and would fog up the window once and then again as he watched the front door. There was no sign of life. No light. No movement. No Samantha.

Eyes dropped to the bright, blue-green glow of the digital clock. It was still early. Earlier than he told her, but even he got nervous when the stakes were high. The minutes ticked by and Vince began making excuses as to why he didn’t make it into town after all for when Samantha didn’t join him - but then the front door opened and a wave of relief hit him.

Samantha left the house as if her brother didn’t know that the two of them had plans to run into town. Her every moment was slow, deliberate and careful, and she had the hood of her zip-up sweatshirt pulled up over her head as if she needed to conceal who she was. It left Vince chuckling as she climbed into the seat next to him, her blonde hair framing her face and the bright blue of her eyes as she looked at him.

“What?” she asked him slowly, a weakness in her voice that sounded more like insecurity than sleepiness.

“It’s nothing,” Vince assured her slowly, his hand reaching up to throw the truck into reverse before Sam could put her seatbelt on, “you’re just a dork. Sneaking out like that. Your brother knows we’re going out.”

“Yeah,” she breathed out, her hands reaching up to push her hood back, “right.”

Together, they sat in the truck cab in silence as they drove down the road. The fog beaded into drops of moisture, streaking down the windows as the heat cleared it away. On the horizon the sun was only just rising, flooding the dark skies with the many shades of sunrise. It was a beautiful sight, even with heavy tired eyes, even if they wouldn’t be able to see it for long as he turned down a back road that was smothered by the overgrowth of towering trees.

Thin branches reached out over the narrow road, their baring branches hitting and scratching at the truck as it passed. The tires kicked up the dirt, and even while he slowed, it left a dust cloud in their wake. It wasn’t an unfamiliar road. Miles’ dad had taken them all fishing when they were kids, just beyond the dead end. Where the road met thick brush, and beyond it the water. But the paths once taken had long since grown over, and there were no other vehicles parked along the edge of the road. There would be no one to interrupt them for now, but Vince knew they would have to be vigilant.

“Alright, get in the back,” Vince broke the silence, his hand reaching out for the pile of blankets.

He tucked them under his arm, and in his hand, he carried the box of condoms in his firm grip as he slid out of the driver’s seat and rounded back to climb into the truck bed. The truck bed was cold and it wouldn’t be the most comfortable of things for her, but Vince was going to do his best. Tossing the condoms down, he unfolded one blanket and laid it out, then another. The third he would use to keep them warm.

Samantha stood at the end of the bed, watching him with curious eyes before letting herself climb up into the bed with him. He watched her as she crawled up the length of it. Her black leggings hugged her body with each movement, right down to her chunky white sneakers on her feet. She looked like she was going for a run more than she looked to be going to a dick appointment. But she was comfortable as she sat down at his side - a little nervous, but comfortable all the same and it left Vince smiling.

“Come ‘here,” he coaxed her as he reached across the little space between them for her hand.

He held it carefully in his hold, giving it a careful tug to draw her in close, only to drop it when she was near enough to place his hands on her hips. His hold on her was gentle, his thumbs stroking over the swell of her hipbone as he guided her down to straddle his hips. Vince could feel her warmth on every side of him, bleeding through the thick fabric of his black hooded sweatshirt and his grey sweatpants as they warmed between her thighs. With her there, he took a moment to admire her, his bright eyes flickering over her softened features. She was doing a good job of hiding her nerves, but he could still see it there in her eyes, as she couldn’t quite meet his own.

When he spoke, his hand moving up and down over her thighs in a soft stroke as he did so, he only made it worse. “Alright, Sammy, tell me what I’m working with.”

Her gaze shifted from where they seemed to stare at his lips to the trees beyond as she chewed at her bottom lip, “I, um.”

She was hesitating. Unsure of what exactly he was asking, or too nervous to tell him the dirty little details he didn’t know, he encouraged her all the same. “How far have you gone before?”

Sam blushed, her eyes coming to find his face again, and only for a moment did he meet his eyes. “Over the clothes.”

“And what do you do when you’re by yourself?”

“Vince!” His name was soft on her tongue, her eyes wide as her mouth full agape. She hadn’t been expecting him to ask her that.

“Hey,” he met her, his own voice dropping to her softness as he reached his hand up to caress her cheek, “You don’t have to worry with me, okay? I’m not here to judge you,” she relaxed into his touch, a heavy sigh rocking her body, “and if I’m going to fuck you, Princess, I want to know what you like and what you’re going to be able to handle-”

Her insecurity broke, her lips spaying into a confident smile as she leaned in to challenge him. “I can handle anything you give me.”

There she was. The Samantha that was so eager to toy with him.

“Humour me then?” His head cocked as his hand left her cheek and traced the outline of her curves. It ghosted over the swell of her breasts, and his hand hesitated there for a moment. Vince craved to grope a handful, but his touch travelled over her waist and settled on her hips once more. He gripped them tight and guided them into their first gentle roll over his cock.

Sam’s eyes fluttered shut at the friction. Her lips parted in a silent gasp before she could bite down on her lower lip.

“How often?” Vince asked.

“Often,” was her simple, feeble response.

A smile grew over Vince’s lips as she crumbled for him. He sat up from where he leaned against the back window of the truck and leaned in. She had found her rhythm, her lips rolling over his slowly, but not enough to tease him. She, much like him, was too eager to wait. Vince’s eyes shut as he fought off a groan of his own, his face finding the warmth of her neck just below her ear. It was there he kissed her, his hot breath warming her skin as he muttered, “Fingers or toys?”

“Fingers.”

His lips dragged over the smooth angle of her jaw in a slow kiss before he spoke again, “Clit or-”

“Vince-”

He kissed down her neck, his teeth grazing over her flesh as he tried to coax an answer from her. “Sam.”

She hesitated, and it had Vince leaning back to look up at her. No answer. No sex.

Pouting in his lap, Sam let out an embarrassed huff. “You know the answer.”

“How many fingers?”

Her face was bright red, her skin so hot that Vince forgot that he had been cold. And while she hesitated, she answered him, “Two.”

Vince’s hands left her hips and took hold of one of hers. He drew it up so she could see it in front of her. There, his palm met hers and they compared how much bigger his hands and fingers were to hers. He let her stare, her eyes wide as her tongue stroked over her bottom lip. He knew exactly what she was thinking about at that moment without her needing to say a word. Vince had planted the very thought of wondering what his fingers would feel like as they plunged into her core. And he felt her shudder.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised, “but you have to promise me that if it becomes too much, or it hurts, you tell me to stop. Got that?”

Samantha nodded slowly, her teeth biting her lip before she let it fall with her words. “I promise.”

“Good girl,” he praised her, and she shuddered again.

She liked praise. And he noted it.

“So,” she hummed slowly, “where do we start?” Vince could only hush her as his hand reached up to stroke through her thick blond hair. His fingers toyed with her soft strands as he pushed them away from her face before they came to rest at the nape of her neck. With that hold, he guided her in and met her lips in a kiss.

There was no caution between them. No hesitation as their lips fell into that same hunger that they had fought back on the porch during the night he had let his desire to fuck her swelter cloud every bit of her better judgement. Her tongue was in his mouth, her hands were in her hair. Tangled in each tendril as he held her head in his hands. Thumbs coaxed her carefully, guiding her mouth open further. The kiss became sloppy, saliva-coated chins and teeth clashed in the desperation of it all. And then his hands dropped.

Samantha had maintained the careful roll of her hips over his raging cock, so she didn’t need his help there. Now, he got to explore.

There was no stopping how his smile splayed over his lips as his hands found the swells of her breast and brushed over them in a feather-light touch. Vince had wanted to indulge himself in them from the very moment he had spotted her there in her bed, and now he was finally going to get the chance. A single hand found the zipper of her sweatshirt, and he pinched it between his thumb and forefinger before dragging it down. It took all of his willpower not to break the kiss and not to look down to see what she wore beneath her sweater. His hands got to do all the exploring as he pushed the sweater open, but not off of her. And he let out his first audible groan when he felt what was beneath.

Samantha wore nothing but what felt like a lacey bralette beneath her sweater as the delicate fabric that dropped off to her smooth flesh greeted Vince’s fingertips. His hands moved blindly, stoking over soft skin and fingers hooked on the flimsy fabric that concealed her breasts and pulled it down. There was no holding back now, not as he could feel the heavy weight of them spill over the excuse of a hold that was the bralette. He needed to see them.

Strong arms embraced Sam around her middle, coiling around her as Vince broke the kiss in a desperate gasp. So selfishly, he housed her up to sit just a little high on her hips so that the very swells of her cleavage were in his sight. His lips came together in a satisfied hum, his hands gripping at the bralette in both hands to fully rid her chest of it before taking a breast in each hand. Large hands kneaded at her flesh, groaning when Samantha’s breasts seemed to overflow from his hold.

They weren’t better than he had imagined. So full, so soft, and so tempting to his mouth as Vince leaned in to place sloppy open-mouthed kisses over the swells of her breasts. Then his lips travelled down, his tongue lapping over a single pert nipple before he was taking it fully in his mouth.

He wasn’t sure if it was the warmth of his mouth, or the stroke of his tongue that coaxed it out of her, but with his mouth consuming her breast, Samantha’s lips parted in a soft sweet gasp. It had Vince smiling against her flesh. But what he liked more was how her hands stoked up the back of his neck and found his curls. He could feel the gentle scratch of her manicured nails over his scalp as her fingers knitted and tugged carefully at his locks. It sent a hum of pleasure buzzing through him, one that had his hands drop to her hips to get a good grip on her. And then he flipped her, her breast falling from his mouth as her back hit the truck bed, and quaking with the impact.

A heavy breath left him as his eyes fixated on her breast again, watching them bouse as they settled and a groan ripped up the back of his throat. Selfishly, he wanted to fuck them. To press them together with his hands and thrust his cock between them until he came. And he would unload all over them and watch it drip down over each swell.

The thought alone made his cock throb.

But that’s not why they were there - and he was done holding back.

“You’ve got such a great body,” he complimented her in a rush of words that sounded more like one as his hands traced the curve of her waist and settled at the top of her tight black leggings.

He gripped the fabric in his fists and tugged them down the length of her legs, only to hit her sneakers. Two kicks of her feet and they were gone, leaving her in her panties and her unzipped sweatshirt beneath him. Then, he reached up, pulling off his own sweatshirt, baring his chest to her, and shivering in the breeze. Vince’s mouth opened to apologize for the cold, but his words were unspoken as Samantha leaned forward, her lips kissing over the toned muscles of his abdomen.

And he just smiled.

That was the beauty of sex. It didn’t need to be learned or taught. It was all instinct. Once he had gotten her caught up in the moment, in the rush of the feeling, Samantha knew exactly what to do. Biting his lip, Vince’s head lulled back. He relished in the feeling of her sweet pink lips against his skin, and every breath that washed over him. But there was a risk in taking his take with her. At any moment, another truck could roll up, and he intended to get back to the house long before Miles woke up.

Reaching out with one hand, he took hold of the third and final blanket while the other stroked back Samantha’s hair from her face. “Lay back, Princess.”

She didn’t hesitate, and Vince positioned himself fully between her thighs. His hands made quick work of the blanket, draping it over his back and leaning in close so that it fell over them both to give them some semblance of warmth. Then his hands were on her body once more. He stroked down over her thighs before dipping down into the heat between them. The skin of Samantha’s inner thigh was so delicately soft that Vince was almost worried that the hardworking callouses on his palms might hurt her. But any thought of worry was gone the moment a single finger stroked over the damp fabric at the crotch of her panties.

“You’re so nice and wet for me,” his words were a growl as his fingers settled on her clit. This time, he didn’t just tease her with the very knowing of where it was. Vince pressed into the sensitive nerves, stroking her slowly and coaxing her into a heavy breath and the careful buck of her hips.

“Would you like me to take these pretty little panties off?”

Nothing more than Samantha’s desperate nods met his question, and Vince didn’t make her wait. The careful rise of her hips helped him as his finger hooked along the thin fabric and dragged it down. She was already such a mess for him, and he’d barely touched her. Vince could see it in how her face softened for him and felt it against his fingers as he slipped her panties from her ankles and took them in his fist. He gripped them tight for a moment before he shoved them into the pocket of his sweatpants.

As to not to lose them - or maybe to keep them as a souvenir.

He smiled at the thought of getting to keep them. Of getting to bring them back to St Louis and keeping them in his own drawer. And it had fully consumed him as he leaned in close and let his hand settle between her legs again. Bare for him, he could feel everything. From her clit to the slickness of her core, he stroked her with a single finger. Gathering that sweet arousal around his index finger before he eased it into the tightness of her cunt.

His thrust was slow, careful as he eased into her inch by inch until he was knuckle deep.

“That’s it, princess,” he encouraged her in a hit whisper that washed over her face as she let out a silent moan, “doing so good for me, you want another?”

He met her eyes that seemed to flutter with every careful pump of his fingers, earning a sweet, “Yes, yes, Vince, please,” from her lips.

“Ready?” he asked her, his words as slow and agonizing as his last thrust with his single finger. And before she could answer, his middle finger had joined in on the plunge, stealing her words and sending a moan into the air.

Birds in the trees above flew in a flock from the treetops, startled by the noise. “Easy there, Princess, it might not just be me and you out here,” Vince cautions her, his eyes meeting hers and he feels her core flex around his fingers. “Oh?” his head cocked. “You like that? The idea of being caught? That someone could walk out of the trees or drive in from the main road and catch us here. My fingers knuckle deep in your pretty little pussy.”

Each word coaxed out a heavy breath, and her walls squeezed around his fingers in a warm embrace that left Vince salivating. He was so close to making her come already. And it was a good thing too. The tension between them over the last two days had left him on edge. Once he had her, he knew he wouldn’t last as long as he would like to with her.

“You ready for my cock, princess?”

Samantha let out a weak hum and reached out her hands to tug at his sweatpants that already hung low on his hips. The tips of her fingers grazed over his flesh, tracing over the angles of his toned body as she brought them down just enough that his cock sprang free. Vince had half hoped to see a shocked expression take her features, but he wasn’t naïve enough to think his cock wasn’t the first she’d seen. He had been one or more unsolicited dick-pic away from that honor, but he was going to be the first of what really mattered.

Vince reached out for the almost forgotten box of condoms, crushing the already battered cardboard in his hold as he fished for the foil package with two fingers. Securing it, he tossed the box aside again, spilling the contents in the truck bed, before ripping open the package and working the thin latex onto his cock. Choking back a groan at the stroke of his own hand, Vince asked, “You watch porn?”

She didn’t shy away from answering him now that her mind was dizzy with lust. “Yeah,”

“Forget everything you’ve ever watched for a second, and just enjoy the moment, the feeling.”

Vince had pressed the top of his cock to the narrow entrance of her core before he could finish speaking. The very pressure of the tip punctuated his words as it eased his way into the embrace of her walls. She was warm, warmer even as Vince leaned in to press his body flush against hers. All the morning cold seemed to disappear around him, the warmth of her body all so consuming as she entwined herself with his by body and limb. He could feel all of her, from how her feet dragged down the length of his lengths before hooking behind his knees to how one hand knitted in the curls of his hair while the other scratched and gripped at his back. But her hold on him, and the slow, steady and deep thrusts, were not enough to keep them anchored in place in the back of her brother’s truck.

Reaching his hand out, Vince pressed it firmly against the cold glass window. The temperate sent a shock right through him. It was such an intense contrast to her warmth, to the pulse of her core around his cock with every one of his thrusts. He fucked her good and slow, kissing her slowly just to feel her sweet moans against his own lips as if he could taste them. And then her climax hit her, so hard he could feel every wave as it consumed her. Vince could feel her legs weaken and tremble, and her grasp on him only grew tighter, as she didn’t quite know yet how to handle the intensity of the pleasure he had brought her.

The pulling on his hair, the coaxing of her core and the squeeze of her legs around his tights brought his own soft groans as he fell into the chase of his own high. His every movement that followed was primal. The sound that left his lips uncontrollable as his thrusts hastened, and his cock twitched against her core’s insistent grasp. Pleasure strangled his final moan as his hips crashed into hers and Vince kept himself buried deep inside her cunt as he unloaded. It left him panting, sweating, groaning, relieved as he had finally gotten what he had been craving the entire long weekend.

Yet, he felt a sense of disappointment. He wished he could have been able to take his time with her. To really enjoy her and teach her a few things outside of being a pretty little pillow princess.

“Fuck, I could have so much fun with you,” Vince told her in a low muttering that he was sure would become lost in the wind. And it was the truth. She had the perfect body, and Sam was still so impressionable in the bedroom. Vince wanted to be the one who walked her through all of it. To be the one who ruined every single other man for her. But she would be off to university in a few days, and he had to report to training camp. Even if he wanted her, there would be too great a distance between to satiate and desire that took him.

Drawing out of her, Vince eased the condom from his cock and pulled his sweatpants up quickly. Fingers knotted up the end, and with little regret, he tossed it into the grass beside the road before he hunted down his clothes. The two of them moved around the truck bed, gathering their things and shrugging into their clothes in silence. That fact left worry hanging heavily in Vince’s stomach. By now, women would have complimented him on anything, everything, desperate to get inside his head after a hookup. But Sam had barely met his eyes as he stared at her breasts one last time before Sam zipped up her sweater.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathed out, coming to stand in front of him, but she didn’t offer another word to him. Instead, she leaned in and pressed up onto her toes to place a simple kiss on his cheek, “but you might have to help me down.”

“I can do that,” Vince grinned and made that his priority.

He jumped down from the truck bed and reached his arms out to her. Hands settled on the curve of her waist and lifted her down with ease. But he didn’t stop there. Vince wrapped one arm around her and watched her with soft eyes and an amused smile as she walked to the passenger side on weak legs. Her strides had been slow and careful, and he had been the one who did that to her.

“Get in. I’ll take care of the rest.” Vince helped her into the passenger’s seat before closing the door firmly behind her.

Then, he made quick work of the mess they made in the truck bed. Vince folded the blankets in on one another, hiding the stray condom that had fallen out of the box, and any traces of sex they may have left behind. They ended up in more a ball than nicely folded, and he tossed into the backseat before Vince found his seat and started up the engine just as another truck pulled into the end of the road.

The driver, an old man, his face thick with wrinkles and his smile friendly, so Vince rolled down the window and offered a friendly wave.

“Any luck out there this morning?”

His mind was cloudy, stuck in a bit of a daze of his own, and left confused by the stranger’s question before he watched him reach into the back of his truck for an old fishing rod.

“No, nothing for us, though we weren’t out long,” Vince upheld the friendly conversation as he reached his arm up to stretch over the back of the seat of the truck. He patted the soft leather of the bench seat, coaxing Samantha over to lean into his side casually. His hand stroked over her arm as he spoke to the man, the conversation falling on the nice weather the day was supposed to have for fishing, but it wasn’t long before he was wishing the man luck and Vince was putting the car in reverse.

With Sam pulled close to his side, he drove into town on the back roads in silence. Not that they really needed anything from the store, but Vince knew if they didn’t return with anything, Miles would get suspicious.

When they arrived, Vince left Samantha in the truck and went into the store alone. He grabbed odds and ends of things. Items that he could have easily forgotten to pack for the weekend, and he even bought Samantha a box of tampons just to cover all the bases before he returned to the truck. She had turned the music on and eased back into her place by his side on the bench seat, but they continued to ride in silence.

Vince could hear her every tired breath and the music that was just loud enough to hear but not loud enough to make out the lyrics. And when she rested her head on his shoulder, he almost groaned. The silence was getting to him, his own curiosities now eating away at him. Vince wanted to know what she was thinking, what she felt. But he was only a quick glance in the mirror from seeing that her eyes were softly closing, sleep threatening to take her as they travelled down the final stretch of road before they were back of the cabin.

He let her flirt with the idea of sleep, but the moment he pulled into the driveway his touch had found her face. He pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head just enough to look up at him. Her eyes fluttered, and her smile pulled at her lips as just how close they were. And he smiled too as he whispered, “You still upset with me for scaring away your little friend?”

Her head shook slowly as she tried to look away to hide the smile that played on her lips, but his hold on her kept her in place. Days ago, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she had screamed at him for what he did. Shouted, hell, he wouldn’t have put it past her if Sam had told him she hated him for what he did, but it was all very different now.

She had no frustration in her eyes. No anger.

“And how do you feel right now?”

Glancing back at him, Samantha could only shrug as her cheeks were the faintest shade of pink. There was a dreamy look on her face, one that Vince had seen so many times before. One of peace, one of calm and adoration.

Lust.

Longing.

Love.

“That’s the endorphins.” His words were soft, a long hum as his hands cupped her face in his hands. “You see, this is the shit they don’t teach you about sex in school. When I fucked you, made you feel so good, it fucked with your brain chemistry. Releases Oxytocin or some shit during orgasm.” His thumb trailed down her cheek oh so slowly, drawing her into a heavy breath that left her bottom lip quivering. Vince stroked it slowly. “Fucking dangerous thing it is. It’s why every time a man touches you from here on out, and he doesn’t get you there, you’re going to think of me. When you touch yourself, you’re going to think of me. And when you do, fucking call because I want to see the mess I’ve fucking turned you into.”

Samantha’s features softened, her eyes wide and her mouth agape in awe at his words. There was nothing she could say to change the effect he would have on her for the rest of her days. A little piece of her would always belong to him. It went beyond the physicality of it all, and Vince fucking loved that.

His thumb stroked over his lower lip one last time, knowing that just touching like that in the driveway was too great a risk, but he wanted more. Vince leaned in and kissed her hard. He wanted to taste her tongue later in the day when he wanted to fuck her, but could only reminisce about the feeling. His fingers nearly knotted in her hair. So close to drawing her in and fucking her in the truck cab, but the possibility of being caught by Miles there left an uncomfortable knot in his gut. Yet, he didn’t pull back until he knew her lips would swell from the kiss. But it might have been too late.

The front door was the first thing he looked at when Vince pulled back from Samantha, his hands still cradling her face. And his body flooded with panic when he saw the door wide open, and Miles making his way out the door, his eyes fixated on the gravel beneath his feet. The truck cab filled with a series of rushed curses as they rushed to put as much distance between themselves as possible. Samantha went as far as to press her back against the passenger side door. There the both of them stayed, panting, watching as her brother looked up towards the truck and he smiled.

Miles hadn’t seen a thing.

#vince dunn #vince dunn fanfic #vince dunn x original character #hockey rpf #hockey imagines #hockey romance #hockey smut #nhl fanfic #nhl rpf #nhl fanfiction #;; { i've been working on this for weeks it feels like }#;; { it may not be edited as well as some of the other fics }#;; { but it's long and i really wanted to get it out today }

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simp-ly-writes · 17 days

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Suits, Ties, and Thus Spies (pt.5)

Pairing: Spy!Task Force 141 x Handler!Reader

Summary: Will John make it out- will your team arrive in time for the mission? And with some unexpected guests to greet you in it all- they all bring forward memories you did best to hide away.

Warnings:4000~ words, light swearing, blood, highly suggestive scenes and trauma. A/N: are we having a good week? Masterlist | Taglist Request | edited.

Forced into the backseat of a black car you pound back on the door- begging for it to release you yet the sound of tires screeching against the pavement has your head filing back into the seat behind you as you slip to the other side without your seatbelt. You tug the band over your shoulder, snapping it at your waist as you feel the coldness of the glass against your face- watching as the city whips past.

Your heart drops for a second, realizing that you were leaving your car at the agency. A groan escapes you- just another reason to hate the people around you. Samantha was driving you to the airstrip as you looked at her with betrayal. Shaking your head and focusing in on a folder set with more information about your targets set in the seat in front of you. Reaching towards the folder, you slip through the various images, documents, and mission logs. Agent Beetle you had sent ahead of your arrival had already made great progress- tracking down members related to the kidnappers and a series of locations where the princess might be housed currently.

The car turns hastily as you curse out- wishing that you were in your own car about to fly your own plane yet management had to say otherwise after your inability to follow company guidelines… fuckers, is all you could think as yet another turn was taken. Samantha was driving like her ass was on fire and you couldn’t help but take down the divider to check and make sure. Gripping the wall as she sped down the now gravel road, she had a vice grip on the steering wheel, lights on bright as tree branches threatened the paint job.

She takes a quick glance at you through the rear view mirror, shaking her head and eyes filled with tears yet never speaking a word as the car suddenly stops- a private jet awaiting your control as the door opens with an automatic release and you are being thrown out- the keys hitting your head leaving a dull ache. Stumbling up from the ground while dusting off your suit, she boards your luggage onto the plane before giving you a mocking salute. The dirt kisses your face as the tires grind into the earth- the car joining the setting sun in the distance.

Weighing the keys in your hand and looking around- you shrug and roll your shoulders before making your way inside. Much to your surprise, Ghost is already waiting for you inside. His long legs rest in the aisle as he leans back in the chair, absent-midedly staring up at the star-studded ceiling without acknowledging your appearance but based upon the twitch of his boot. He knew you were here.

Giving him a playful wave hello, he nods his head once in acknowledgement before going through his own mission debrief resting on the chair beside him. The black-metal briefcase dazzling in the setting sun's rays. Ducking into the operations space, you ready yourself in the pilot's seat, flicking on the various lights as you warm up the engine. The plane roars to life as you set your headset on- testing communications to receive a very giggly Samantha in reply- trying to lighten the evening mood.

You hear footsteps coming up the aisle as you turn around- expecting to see a skull-face on your own. Soaps and Gaz’s features meet your own with mutual surprise before they tackle you into a hug. Not thinking for a moment you return the gesture before the wheels turn lightly from underneath you all. Cursing out you stomp back on the brakes and turn back with a guilty smile as they laugh in reaction before settling themselves in for the flight.

Your fingers tapped against the dash, there was only so much daylight left and you had to get wheels up in 10. Starting to pick at your nail polish once more- a frantic set of boots come to a fault by your side. You only find a back as you turn to face them as they move to operate the seat beside you. Confusion coats your features- unknowing of who lied on their report to be qualified in operating a plane. John smiles at you yet his eyes speak of unknown horrors that you acknowledge with a small sob escaping from your lips.

A soft smile falls upon your own features, eyes welling over as you extend a hand, silently asking if he was alright. Taking your hand in his own- he offers a light squeeze before dropping it and settling into his own headset. Samantha cheers in both of your ears yet you both play no mind to her excitement. Price moves the microphone closer to his mouth, “Load of shit those trials were- the fuck- trauma they try and instil in you lot.” You can only chuckle out to his crude words breaking your cries as John takes control of the flying gear and starts the take off procedure as you dab off your eyes from the handkerchief of your suit.

“Hello, this is your Captain Daniels and Price speaking, he is readying ourselves for take off. If all passengers could please strap themselves in and pour a drink- we have seven scheduled hours in the air for tonight.” You can distantly here Soap groan out as Gaz ever-so kindly asks him to, “Shut the fuck up.” Shaking your head at this interaction, Price cocks his head over to you- his own smile growing and the prior events of the day being set to the back of the stove.

Clouds paint your peripheral vision as you take control of the flight. Price has fallen asleep beside you as you drift through the sky. Samantha had long fallen asleep at her desk as your mind wandered, wondering where Whitby had been sent, how Charlotte and Handler Jacobs wedding plans were going- she really did try and hide that engagement ring from a spy out of all people. Jason was probably messing around town for the night, celebrating being the only one in the organization who actually worked the nine to five as your external trainees were scheduled for space clearing the next morning.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Simon asks, taking the small seat behind you as he shook Price awake and overtook his seat, taking control of the plane as you rubbed your wrists- sore from the handling. “What are you doing up?” You reply with another question as he slowly turns his head to you. “Couldn’t sleep. I ask again, what's going on?” He pressures, eyes staring through the open airspace ahead of you both.

“Work like any other time,” you reply with a yawn, “S’all I do.” “Well that's shit,” he responds in a blank tone that has you sitting upright. “Not really, I mean, it's a pretty great job minding all the strings attached,” you say, looking at the side of his mask. “But no vacation? No PTO?” he asks, legs shifting below as he revives word from a nearby communications tower to make a turn in response to an emergency flight coming near.

“Nope,” you respond, popping the P sound as you start to close your eyes. “Vacation is drinking after hours and hooking up with whomever will forget about you in the morning.”

“I’m sorry ‘bout that,” Simon responds with sincerity. “I mean… don’t you guys go through the same shit?” you ask, voice starting to become more gruff from the lack of sleep. He is silent for a few moments, picking the words as you open an eye- concern starting to raise as you thought to have crossed a line. Beginning to open your mouth to apologise he responds, “Yes… no. I mean… some of us do have people waiting at home for us… Gaz and Soap have an on and off girl- but at the end of the day, it's a job. You work your hours- get fucking bloody and wash it all off before heading to bed.”

“That's the thing though… about jobs like ours, you never really wash it all out. Just what can’t be seen on the front…” your voice drifts off as you turn in your chair, trying to make yourself comfortable in the upright position. Ghost does not speak further, only humming yet that sound is all you need to understand he knows your words on a personal level. “Why be so personal now, Handler?” Ghost questions, the words slipping as part of him uses your tried physique to gain an answer.

“I could ask the same to you, Agent,” you tease back, “....and maybe I am just doing my job in the end too, using everything I’ve got…” you fall asleep soon after, soft snores exiting your mouth as Ghost turns to look at you once with soft eyes before addressing Samantha's report request. His gruff tones are like honey on your ears, drifting you further into a dreamless abyss.

You are shaken awake as the plane begins to descend. Price had retaken control as you swear out, pausing from asking if he wanted any assistance from the glare he sent towards you. “I let you sleep for a reason,” he responds through the headset as you stretch yourself awake and feel for your water bottle, taking a large drink. He speaks up once more, “we have no fucking clue what we are doing once we are out of the sky.”

“Did they not give you all a report?” you question, body now more respondent. You watch as he shakes his head, the tires scratch under pressure as the plane jumps a handful of times before becoming stagnant on the arstrip. “Had us work to the location of the plane from an unknown location. We had to use Whitby and Charlotte as our handlers to find our way back to you- they said it was comms and finding training and as you can see- we all passed with flying colours.” Rolling your eyes you speak back, “Good to hear my sass is rolling off on you all.”

You listen to him chuckle before locking the plane for any further motions, he helps you up from your seat with a hand as you grace him with a thankful smile- embarrassed from your jelly-like legs. Soap, Simon, and Kyle are all waiting in a convertible, your bags stuffed into the trunk as you all drive into the city, the wind whipping through your hair, the sun beginning to rise against your face as you voice out directions from the passenger's seat.

The private estate sits atop a cliff casting over the sea below. Its deep blue waters invite you into their depths as you lean over the balcony, listening to the waves chase their way up the rock face to only fall back into itself. Light summery pop songs play through the radio as you think about the cold weather back at home as you bask in as much sun you can- praying that you can maintain a tan as a cough sounds from behind you. Pivoting on your heel your eyes go wide to see a barely buttoned linens-shirt in front of your face. The light white material blowing with the breeze as their salmon shorts tease a smile from your lips. “Hello love,” Whitby responds while pulling you into a hug.

“Do you even work anymore?” you question out to the man, “I-mean. You were scheduled to be with the Americans this week- what changed?” “Solved it online, a few late nights of security footage here, a few voice-changed phone calls there and the president didn’t know any better about the corruption boiling underneath her feet.” You shake your head before following in step with the Agent as his arm drapes its way over your shoulder. Leading you towards the gardens with a smirk as the 141 team look towards him with utmost confusion.

Johnny calls from the outdoor shower- already having explored the beaches from down the road ahead of your mission start time. “You do look good in swimwear but why are you here man?” Whitby cocks his head to the side before responding, his hand casting gentle rubs to your side. “I also made a… request-” you shove his side. “Well- erm more of a demand that I refuse to work with any other handler too- perks of being the best,” he boasts as you shove him off of you. His smile dips as he whispers sorry as you roll your eyes and take a bow.

“Glad to know you love me only for work,” you tease- starting to make your way back inside the villa as Whiby darts back over, pulling at your waist as you both fall into an outdoor couch. “You know it's not like that… I mean fuck- I even prop-” you cover his mouth with your hand as he kisses it teasingly. Shaking your hand off with mock disgust, everyone around you stands still and walks closer. “You are engaged?” they ask, worry coursing through their features as they think back to your… quite possibly flirtatious moments Whitby's in the company history that was more than well known throughout the ranks.

“Oh heavens no! Definitely one day but, duty comes first,” You say, hand on Whitby's knee as a light apology yet he already accepted your decision years ago but that did not mean the offer didn’t hang over both of your heads as did everyone else in your life know not to come in between in beside the playful banter your teams were generally known for. Simon huffs out as your mind darts back to the conversations you shared last night, you watch as he walks back inside the house- Soap trailing behind with a towel wrapped around his shoulders. Price sits across from you both as Gaz resumes sketching out the landscape of the hills and orchids just off in the distance.

In the night, you and Whitby settled into a room together. Singing softly to the lyrics coming off your phone. Brushing your teeth and doing your skincare in the mirror, steam from the earlier shower was still present within the room, warming your skin as you leaned in and pressed a kiss to the side of his face.

Whitby smiles leaning forwards, slipping his glasses back on while placing his arms at either side of you and lifts you atop the countertop. The cold stone drew goosebumps across your skin as Whitby's light caress from your hand, to your shoulders and resting on your neck as he squeezed lightly, bringing your lips back onto his with a moan. Your hands squeeze at the towel around his waist as you pull back, breathing heavy as your foreheads rest against one another, taking in air as your breathing starts to become more rapid.

You feel his hand cup your cheek, making its way to your hair as he massages your scalp. You hum out softly, eyes closing as Whitby leans forward once more, taking your lower lip between his teeth in a playful bite. You feel the towel drop as he shivers, hands dropping to your thighs in an instance. Your eyes snap back open, gaze starting to look down before you are being lifted and carried into the bedroom- thrown on the bed as he stalks up to the bedside. Going on his hands and knees as he climbs over to you as you playfully back up, racing towards the headboard as he shoves you down- trapping both of your wrists between one of his hands- his legs locked around your waist as you huff out and try to blow the hair out of your face.

Smirking down at you. He takes his glasses back off and sets them on the nightstand before gently brushing the hair out of your face, leaving a featherlight kiss to your temple. “Now do tell me… Handler,” He speaks out to you in a breathy tone as you clench your thighs together. “...what are your commands for me tonight?” he teases.

“Well if you would let me go, maybe I could do a better job at that,” he hums out in contemplation, your breath hitching as he shifts his body weight still hovering above your lips. Your lips start to feel dry in anticipation, “not the answering I was looking for, love.” You roll your eyes before he switches positions, flipping you to face him- his face hovering over your own yet he does not connect his lips to your own.

“Tease,” you groan out, wiggling your legs, trying to escape from underneath him. He lets go of your hands as they trace the muscles of his lower stomach, down to his abs thoughtful yet just before your hands can drift deeper he distracts you with his lips against your neck as your back arches, hands falling to grip at the bedsheets. He whispers to you, “I ask again, what is it you desire tonight?”

“I desire for you both to put some fucking clothes on you horny fucks,” the voice startes you both- bodies going still and blood going cold as Whitby covers your body with his own as he starts to pull a gun from underneath one of your pillows. You crane your head to see over Whitby's shoulder, eyes going wide to see red-hair glowing underneath the moonlight. Their green eyes search your own with distaste before curing up into a smile seeing Whitby's ass.

“Looking truly peachy tonight, Whitby,” Agent Beetle teases as you shove the agent off of you, picking up and slipping on the shirt Beetle throws at you with a whistle. Whitby remains on the bed, face red as he racks his mind for the best way to not embarrass himself further. You open the closet, offering the other agent a pair of pants as he hardly covers himself and makes escape to the bathroom.

“Do I want to know how long you were standing there, Agent?” you press, hands now feeling around the closet for bottoms as the female Agent sits down at the foot of the bed, eyes trailing around the room. “Not too long, Handler of Dick,” she teases further as you press your face into a pair of pants, shaking your head and letting out a silent scream before placing them on. Whitby had yet to return from the bathroom as you both listen to the shower turn on with a raised brown before you show the female agent towards the kitchen for a late cup of tea.

“I have a 87% accuracy rating to where the Princess could potentially be held from intercepting a call,” you nod your head, “2 sugar- one milk, right” “correct.”

“Anything else?” you press. Beetle looks at you, taking a slow sip of their drink, “yes, I managed to speak with them briefly while they were being moved. No signs of serious physical injury and they smiled at the mention of your name- something about their knight in shining armour or maybe that was Whitby…” their voice trails off in contemplation, eyes replaying the conversation. “No, actually it might have been Jacobs- well that part does not matter! What matters right now is why you were about to go down on an Agent who is not supposed to be here, Handler?” they rebuttal as you take a small sip of your own, setting it back down on the counter.

“Can a person not have needs?” you ask as they send you a deadpan look. Your face falls into your hands, groaning out, “Not you too…” “How is this me too?” Beetle questions with a knowing smile. Gossipers- the whole lot… you swear to yourself before picking conversion back up- trying to save what little face you have left.

“I already said no… but that does not mean we both do not love one another. I’ve already told him, multiple times at that to find someone else- to-to move on from me yet he never does and I never do either. I love him, I know that but…” you exhale a deep breath, the floor creaking from down the hall as you both pause. Your shoulders tense before dropping as Whitby places a kiss to your shoulder and steals a sip from your drink. You watch as he does this, maintaining eye contact yet as you peer deeper in- you only see understanding. He has been listening…

He moves away, placing the cup back down before messing through the fridge for a late night snack as you playfully shake your head, Beetle clearing their throat- drawing your attention back to your previous conversation. “But as I was saying, it was one of my final missions before getting promoted and it went tits up. We became swarmed and I was the only agent left on the premises. Aggressors were everywhere, Police were moving up the stairs and I was blocked into a corner- underneath a table. One of them managed to get through my jacket. I strangled them, reaching towards the gun and just as I fired… the bullet continued and hit a civilian. I didn't notice at the time, my body filled with adrenaline and the need to escape yet as I looked back, church bells ringing- I…” you start to quietly sob as Whitby wraps an arm around you for support as you lean back into his embrace. “I killed the groom on what was supposed to be his happiest day, I made it his last and… it's the guilt. Knowing that I took that away from someone that I cannot allow myself to have the same.” You fail to even out your breathing as Whitby begins to glare over your head at Beetle for making you into this state.

“That’s why I can never be anything more with anyone… no matter how much I may want to… I deserve to be in this pain for giving it out to someone undeserving-”

“Daniels-” Beetle speaks out softly as you shake your head. “It's s'alright agent,” you say while blowing your nose. “We have a princess that I can hopefully save the next day and a man I can fall into bed with later that night and I am okay with that… as long as he is.” you say, hands now tracing patterns into his arm as he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead as his arms tighten around your form a bit more snuggly.

“As long as I’m with you darling, in any way,” Whitby states. “Let's go back to bed now, Beetle, there is a room across from ours, I think we have awakened the rest of the house- best we all get some good rest.” You look down the hall, seeing the various lights lit underneath the doors before holding Beetle's hand gently- giving it a squeeze and dropping it. Both watching as she turns into her room as you both do the same.

↳ Taglist: @thriving-n-jiving @cringeycookies @lilliumrorum @brokenpieces-72 @ashy-kit @notsaelty @hindi-si-ikay @sleepyycatt @no-lessthan3 @yuujisbearx

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laenordeservedbetter · 1 year

Note

Sam and reader just being cute girlfriends loving eachother while getting attacked by gf❤️❤️

Protective

Words: 214 (very short)

Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: When you see Sam about to be attacked by Ghostface, you come to her rescue.

Warnings: scream vi spoilers, violence, killing with a hint of fluff. lmk if I missed any.

not my gif. || masterlist || previous work

—————————————————————

“WATCH OUT!” You screech, witnessing Ethan about to strike at Sam. Putting every bit of energy into your body, you run up to the boy, tackling him.

Ethan lands on the floor with a thud, bringing you with him. You keep him pinned down until you feel your strength start to decline. “Sam,” You turn your head in Sam’s direction, “Do you have a…?” Not finding the right word, you let your question remain unfinished.

Sam turns a blade over to you — Billy’s knife — “Here. Use this.”

“Thanks.” You say, leaning in to whisper in Ethan’s ear, “Hold still.” You raise the blade, digging the sharp metal into the boy’s back. Once, twice, thrice. He cries in anguish as you slice his skin, watching the blood drip down his body. Once the atmosphere was barren of screams, you pull the knife out, panting. “Thought he’d put up more of a fight, honestly.”

Sam crosses her arms, acting miffed. “I had that covered.” She lends a hand, helping you stand up. “But thanks.” She says eventually, cupping your face to wipe the blood away.

You beam, kissing her cheek. “You’re welcome . . . One down-”

“Two more to go.” She finishes your sentence, delicately pulling you towards the shrine.

“What’s the plan?”

“Costumes.”

#sam carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter #sam carpenter #ethan landry

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dragonsdomain · 27 days

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Bleeding Out in the Backyard

"Mansions are rich and have a lot of security. One day their lead officer shows them a concerning video of Danny Fenton in the back ally behind their home."

A phic phight prompt by DizzlyPuzzled

...

Pamela Manson sipped her tea before blinking at the camera again. It had been a while since she'd paid attention to these security cameras, but she's starting to think that may have been a mistake.

"Honey?" she called into the hall. "Jeremy? Can you come over here?"

"Sure, sweetie!" Jeremy swept into the room, then drew to an abrupt stop at the view on the screen. "Is that Sam's scraggly boyfriend bleeding out in the backyard?"

Pamela opened her mouth to argue that he wasn't her boyfriend if she had anything to say about it before slapping her forehead. "Oh dear, I should call an ambulance! I wouldn't want to get sued by his crazy parents."

"Why is he bleeding out in our backyard?" Jeremy muttered.

"Here, call the cops, dear," Pam said, handing her phone to Jeremy before poking her head out to the hall again and shrieking "Sam! Get down here!"

Pam's phone dinged in Jeremy's hand. He glanced down at it. "Sam says 'what?'"

"Ugh!" Pamela grabbed the phone back from him and called Sam. "Get down here, you ungrateful girl! Your wretched friend is bleeding out in the backyard!"

There was a beat of silence. Jeremy was thankfully pulling out his own phone to call 911 with. "Mom..." Sam answered, "Are you trying to April Fool's prank me? 'Cause this is a really bad way to do it. Or-- wait, Tucker? Are you pretending to be my mom?"

"I am your mother!" Pam screeched. "Get down here before I have to come up and get you!"

Jeremy was speaking with an operator on the other side of the phone, describing the situation. Good.

Sam strode into the room presently with eyeliner half-removed. She takes in the screen, and Pam watches some indeterminate firecracker of emotions smack up onto Sam's face and then right back off. "...I forgot we have security cameras."

"Ugh," Pam rolls her eyes, mentally brushing off the fact that she had also forgotten.

"Okay, so... he's probably doing a prank."

Pam's eyelid twitches. "You can't be serious, Sam. Your father has already called an ambulance."

Sam cursed under her breath. "Uh, lemme go check on him, see what's going on. I'll call you from the yard and tell you what's up."

"Make it quick," Pamela said, gritting her teeth.

Sam dashed off again. Pamela propped herself up on the desk next to the cameras. She noticed she was shaking and tried taking some deep breaths to soothe her nerves. That boy was going to regret this if it really was just a prank.

Pam nearly shrieked when her phone rang, before she managed to fumble it up to her ear and answer.

"Hey! Haha, so! Yeah, it was just a prank!" Sam said, and Pam wondered if she was imagining that strained note in her daughter's voice. "It was just fake blood. Y'know. Uh, he didn't know about the cameras. And he was going to call me down to come see. So, ha, sorry about the ambulance, but you can send them away when they get here. 'Cause he's. He's fine."

Pamela's head drooped down on the desk. "Sam. Samantha."

Sam laughed nervously. "W-what?"

"You're grounded."

"Hey!"

Pam hung up. She gave a long, drawn-out sigh.

"What? So is he fine?" Jeremy asked.

"Yes," Pamela said exhaustedly.

Jeremy frowned at the screen. "He's still sticking to the bit."

Pamela glanced up and watched Sam dragging her friend across the grass, leaving behind an ugly trail of awfully convincing fake blood. She hoped it was water soluble.

"That girl is going to stop hanging out with those awful boys if it's the last thing I make her do."

#phic phight #phic phight 2024 #my fanfics #Danny Phantom #Sam Manson #Pamela Manson #Jeremy Manson #tw blood

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samantha-and-her-chaotic-desires · 3 months

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I'm a critical fan of Hazbin...but.

I love him with all of my <3

#alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #original post #samantha screeches #I love him so much he's my comfort character #but like not in a romantic way more so like a uncle figure way #idk I just like using f/o familial dynamics #:D

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mrchiipchrome · 10 months

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could you write for sam kerr? maybe prompt 20?

prompt 20; you look like an angel

“Sammy, sweetheart. Where are you?” Your voice carries through the apartment you currently reside in with your Australian girlfriend. A certain Australian girlfriend who hadn’t showed up for training resulting in you getting a call from a worried Emma Hayes wondering why her striker hadn’t shown up.

You had rushed home from work as soon as you heard, worried sick about your girl who never missed training unless it was vital.

The worry wells up in you when you don’t hear an immediate response, usually getting at least a small ‘hey baby’ from her.

You walk up the stairs cautiously, hearing restless rustling coming from the bedroom indicating where she would be found. A whimper catches your attention as you near the bedroom door, speeding up with confusion splayed on your face.

The door swings open and the first thing to catch your attention is how the sheets now are on the ground instead of the bed.

The second thing you notice is how Sam is laying sprawled out like a starfish on the bed, no shirt and a pair of your loose basketball shorts on. The gleam of the sweat covering her back is blinding, like she had just come back from running a marathon and fell right into bed.

You walk forward placing your hand directly on her back, rubbing between her shoulder blades as she lets out another loud whimper, moving away from the heat emitted from your body. The hand that previously found itself on her back moved up to her forehead, hissing as the skin there burns your palm.

“What are you doing home?” She asks deliriously, eyes flitting over your face like her brain wasn’t registering your presence.

“I got a call from Emma, she told me that you didn’t show up for training. You wanna tell me why?” You questioned her, as if the state of her wasn’t telling enough.

“I feel like shit” Her voice is muffled as she speaks into her sheets.

“Well, you look like an angel” You see how the smile grows on her face before it’s interrupted by a coughing attack. “Come on, let’s get you some sleep” Your fingers undo her low ponytail, her hair now splayed out over her back as your fingers run through it. She wraps her arms around your waist, laying her head on your shoulder despite being feverish and overheating.

—-

“Samantha May Kerr, I won’t hesitate to shove this medication down your throat, so either we do it the easy way or the hard way.” Millie, Guro and Erin heard as soon as they stepped into the apartment, hands filled with shopping bags. They hear a thumping noise coming from the bedroom as they stand confused in the entrance, who was threatening their teammate? Suddenly the thudding became a pattern, moving towards them at a rapid rate.

They see Sam’s body coming towards them at a flying rate, not something they have time to question as another body flies past at the same speed. Another thunk gives them the time to look into the living room where you had seemingly caught the fast forward, straddling her as she wiggles and screeches, moving her head around to not have to drink the liquid you had miraculously kept on the spoon.

They watch as you two struggle for a couple of seconds until you manage to shove the spoon into her mouth, holding her jaw so that she wouldn’t spit it out. After she swallows it, you lean down and give her a peck on her lips.

“When were you planning on introducing us to your girl Sammy?” Erin asks loudly.

“AAAHH”

#woso x reader #sam kerr x reader

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autistichalsin · 7 months

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I AM SCREECHING SAMANTHA APPROVES MY PROPOSED HALSIN/KARLACH SHIP NAME

It's official y'all I named the Halsin/Karlach ship. OMG OMG OMG

#halsin #karlach #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #it's official halsin/karlach is officially Furioso #block for anon

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michelleleewise · 1 year

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🌹Her Romeo🌹

Pairing: Avenger! Loki x insecure! Female reader

Warnings: yelling, manipulation, crying, non consensual touching/a kiss, anxiety, swearing, name calling, bullying, self deprecating thoughts, self esteem issues, if I missed anything let me know!!

Summary: Loki's pov reveals the truth while you nurse your heart...

A/n- graphics by @harlequin-hangout, thanks so much to @mochie85 for helping brain storm through this!! Your amazing my dear!!!!!

Part Three-- Part Four-

Backstage (opening night)-

Loki looked in the mirror, adjusting his tie looking down at his watch smiling. The reservations were in half and hour and his nerves were on edge. He walked to where his coat hung on the hook, reaching in the pocket pulling out the small box, the velvet soft under his fingertips as he opened it making sure its contents were nestled safely in place when a knock came at the door. "Come in." He called out slipping the box back in his pocket.

"Hey Lo, you did great tonight." Samantha said walking inside, closing the door behind her "Thank you, so did you." He nodded putting his hands in his pockets "are you coming to the after party?" She asked, sauntering forward not taking her eyes off him "no, I have plans with y/n." He said taking a step back. "Funny, I didn't see her in the crowd, are you sure she came?" She asked continuing towards him "I am not sure, but even then I have plans." He said taking another step back. "I saw how she treats you, you deserve much better." She smiled continuing her course "my life is no concern of yours." He said sternly when the back of his legs hit the couch.

"Oh, I could make it my concern." She purred catching him off guard pushing him back. "What are you.." he started when she jumped on his lap, grabbing the front of his jacket "get off of me this instant." He said grabbing her hips trying to manuver her "I can make you feel good Lo...just let me..." She purred leaning forward "I have tried to be nice, but you are wearing my patience. Now get....off." he growled clenching his jaw "mmm...Loki." She moaned loudly when he heard a shuffle of fabric on the other side of the door. "Shit.." he muttered going to stand when she pressed her lips to his, holding the sides of his face when he heard you say his name, your voice quiet as he grabbed her wrists pulling free.

"oops, guess we're caught." Samantha said laughing "y/n...wait! It's not..." he tried watching you take a step back, his heart racing as he pushed samantha off. "she was going to find out eventually." Samantha purred grabbing his arm "there is nothing to find out! Y/n, please...i have not done anything with her, I swear!" Loki said sternly wrenching his arm from her. He watched you close your eyes, surely wishing you were anywhere but here right now "Love, please...listen to me." Loki said, reaching out to touch your arm, pulling back when you jerked away from him. "i..I can't do this." He heard you whisper, the rose dropping to the floor as you ran down the hall. "y/n!" Loki yelled after you, deep down knowing you wouldn't stop as he ran after you.

He ran out the backstage door seeing security "which way did she go?" He asked looking around "she left through the main doors sir." He replied as Loki bolted up the aisle hoping to catch you, he needed to explain. He threw the front door open, looking around he saw your figure running to your car "y/n, wait!" Loki yelled, about to step off the sidewalk when a mob of women surrounded him. He looked up seeing your car screeching forward, smoke billowing behind it as you drove off. "Ladies, I am terribly sorry but i have to leave, there is an emergency I must deal with." He said bowing slightly hearing the disappointed groan from the small crowd. "Next time, I swear." He offered a smile before running back into the building.

He stormed into his dressing room, anger coursing through him seeing Samantha sprawled out on the couch "is she finally gone?" She snarked sitting up "get out of my dressing room...now!" He yelled grabbing his cost feeling his pockets "looking for this?" She asked holding up the small box when Loki snatched it out of her hand "what do you even see in her? She so...plain." Samantha said crossing her arms as Loki stormed up to her making her step back "she is a better woman then you will ever be." He growled stepping closer "you are nothing but a trollop...a harlot looking for her next opportunity." He said seeing her eyes widen "did you truly believe you could win my affections with your manipulation?" He asked taking another step forward

"women like you are a dime a dozen, falling to your knees at the first man who pays attention to you" he continued, the fear swirling in her eyes making him smile "you are nothing but a conniving, deceitful cunt." He snarled towering over her as she fell back onto the couch "you are the dirt beneath my queens feet." He said leaning over her "you...are...nothing." He hissed standing back up putting the box in his pocket "y..you can't talk to me like that, I'll have you fired!" She yelled beginning to stand when his glare snapped to her making her sit back down "I will speak to you however I wish, and I refuse to work with you let alone be in the same building with you so I will be resigning." He said storming to the door "contact me again, and you will regret it." He said sternly before turning and leaving.

Loki walked into the alley in the back, his heart racing as he closed his eyes trying to teleport home, opening his eyes seeing he missed his mark by a few blocks "dammit!" He yelled, running as fast as he could towards your shared home. He needed to see you, talk to you. He rounded the corner seeing you placing a bag in the trunk as you slammed it down "y/n wait!" He yelled, seeing you glance back at him before jumping inside, burnt rubber filling the air as you took off just as he reached you. "Yn! Please!" He yelled, running his hands through his hair "fuck!" He yelled, kicking the side of the building watching the lights of your car fade into the night. He was too late....

"They were kissing val!" You yelled setting your coffee down seeing her hold her hands up "ok...ok, I'm just trying to understand." Val said watching you "I told you, I walked into his dressing room and she was on his lap, and they were...yeah." you said picking at your finger nails. "It just doesn't make sense, everytime we've talked you've told me how wonderful he is, and how good he treats you." She said sighing "well apparently he was just waiting for the next best thing." You huffed "for two years...I don't know." She said crossing her arms. "So what, I'm in the wrong?" You snapped looking at her "I didn't say that, I'm just saying there has to be an explanation." Val said sternly. "Yeah, he's a liar." You said laying your head against the back of the chair.

"Have you talked to him about it?" Val asked "no, he tried to call but I turned my phone off." You said rubbing your eyes. "Well maybe, if you want to that is, hear what his side is. This Samantha girl doesn't seem the most trustworthy." Val said. "I don't want to listen to anymore of his bullshit Val, I'm done." You huffed standing up "I just need a few days to figure things out and find a place." You said grabbing your cup when Val got up grabbing your shoulders "you are welcome here as long as you need, but y/n think about what I said please." Val said gripping your arms "I know you love him, and I don't want you to lose what you had because some skank came between you." She said. You nodded looking to the floor "alright, I'll think about it. But not tonight, im exhausted." You said as Val took your cup.

"I got your room set up, third floor on the end. You get the balcony." She smiled walking to the sink. "Thanks val, this really means alot." You said grabbing your suitcase "what are friends for? And if he did...you know...I'll help you hide the body." She winked making you laugh "whose?" You asked walking to the stairs "both of them...now get some sleep and I'll see you in the morning." She said. You nodded, slowly heading up to the third floor. "Why is this house so damn big." You huffed finally making it to the top. You panted, trying to catch your breath reaching the end of the hall, opening the door seeing a large four poster bed with sheer white curtains flowing from the canopy, fairly lights twinkling softly along the fabric "romantic val." You laughed setting your suitcase on the bed, walking to the French doors, opening them you walked out onto the balcony. Leaning over the thick balustrade seeing vines curling and twisting up along the white trellis like a second skin, rose buds blooming throught the foliage.

You leaned over letting out a deep sigh, the sweet smell of the roses mixed with the night air calming your nerves hearing the steady song of crickets around you. It was peaceful...beautiful, you could picture yourself standing here, Loki stood behind you, his strong arms wrapped around you holding you like he would never let you go as he swayed back and forth whispering sweet nothings and promises in your ear. You could almost hear his voice in your mind, feel his touch on your skin as you let the silence consume you when reality came flashing back. You opened your eyes feeling a tear roll down your cheek, reminding you of what happened...that you were alone.

You took one last look out into the night "where's my Romeo.." you whispered feeling your heart clench in your chest. "I guess he's her Romeo now." You sighed heading back inside the room closing the doors behind you. You unpacked your suitcase, what little your were able to grab fitting in the dresser as you changed into your night clothes. "I need her job." You laughed walking into the bathroom that was the size of your bedroom at home. You quickly brushed your teeth, switching the lights off you let the fairy lights guide you to the large bed. You pulled the blanket down, climbing up you slid down pulling them to your chin staring up at the canopy.

You knew in your heart val had a point, maybe there was something you didn't know...but your mind refused to listen. The doubt growing the more you thought. What was he actually doing on those missions...he is the God of lies...had he done this before and he just got caught this time. You rolled over trying to close your eyes, the image of them burnt into your memory flashed behind your eyelids. You reached up grabbing the pillow next to you bringing it to your chest feeling tears welling in your eyes. You're chest hurting with every breath as your heart felt like it was physically ripped out. Clutching the pillow you couldn't stop the sobs that racked through you. You loved him, with every fiber of your being you loved him but it wasn't enough...it was never enough.

you prayed to whoever was listening that you could move on from him, get over him...you didnt want this pain.....if this is what it was to love him, you didn't want to it anymore.....

@vbecker10@lokisgoodgirl @springdandelixn @kinky-faerie @xorpsbane @midnights-ramblings @simping-for-marvel @holdmytesseract @kkdvkyya @slpnbty2001 @lokixryss @vane28282 @violethaze @coldnique @aniar4wniak @nate-ate-hate @buttercupcookies-blog @brattymum96 @dukes2581 @your-taste-on-my-lips @mybabyh @blog-the-lilly @irishhappiness @sinsandguilt @filthyhiddles @lovebyloki @kikster606 @javagirl328 @misunderstoodself @highkeysimpingforloki @eleniblue @commanding-officer @athalialaufeyson @stupidthoughtsinwriting @lokiandbuckysdoll @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @high-functioning-lokipath @kittiowolf210 @slytherclaw1227 @joyfullymassivewhispers @wolfsmom1 @libbybeaz @lokikissesmyforehead @goblingirlsarah @thomase1

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celestialmilfs · 1 year

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Classroom Blues

Character: Melissa Schemmenti Word count: 3,310 Warnings: Car accidents, panic attacks, PTSD Genre: Hurt/Comfort Rating: T

Description: Tires screech against pavement, shrill and cruel. Aluminum crunches. Glass shatters. Every single kid stops what they’re doing. --- It’s never been so frightening to look out the window

“That’s looking great, Noah!”

You smile over his shoulder, and he beams back at you before returning to his crayons.

Second graders are so easy to please.

You walk past him to get a look at everybody else’s paper plate dinosaurs. Nathan’s is breathing fire. Tyrone gave his a little princess crown. When you asked, Jamila said hers is ‘a apatopasaurus’ and that she refuses any further comment.

Fantastic work, overall.

It’s looking mighty fine outside too; the day is stretching into afternoon, and the sun blazes into the art room, etching on the walls the shadows of the easter bunnies the first graders had made last week.

The clock is slowly ticking towards two, and you’re only fifteen minutes away from a hot McVegan — no tomato, and two hours of the Good Place. Jamila lifts her hand as high as she can and speaks before you can even get to her.

“I’m all done,” she says. Her apatopasaurus is made of three plates instead of one, and the legs have pink pipe cleaners for both claws and a tongue. There’s a little tear drawn beneath its googly eye.

“Oh, wow.” You turn it around and smile at the glitter glue spots drawn on the other side. “This is really great, Jamila. You wanna help me put it on the—“

Tires screech against pavement, shrill and cruel. Aluminum crunches. Glass shatters.

Every single kid stops what they’re doing.

“Look!” Samantha yells and runs to the window. Half the class follows her, crowding in a line to catch a glimpse. God’s mercy that most of them are too short to see past the supply shelf. It offers you no such protection, though.

Just by the crossing outside, a black car is crushed against a DHL truck. Must have been going way outside the speed limit; you’re barely allowed to hit 40 out there because of the kids. The left side is completely collapsed around the truck’s hood, but you can see the driver just fine from here.

Dead.

He’s dead.

You snap into action.

“Hey, come on,” you say and start herding them away from the windows. “The ambulance guys will handle it, okay? Let’s get back to work.”

Your voice sounds distant to your own ears, like you’re speaking into a bottomless tunnel. The kids don’t seem to hear you either. More likely they’re just not listening because they’re eight-year-olds and most of them haven’t had time to even think about death yet.

They haven’t been to a funeral on a perfectly sunny day, just like this one.

Haven’t hung upside down by their seatbelt in a upended car.

Or seen how broken glass mangles a face.

Stop.

You blink yourself back into the here-and-now. Your knees are already beginning to feel weak, ready to buckle under the slightest strain.

Just breathe. Ten years of practiced technique, honed to perfection. Breathe.

For the kids, if not for yourself.

The minute hand on the clock ticks over to fifty-three. A few kids, the same ones who always put the watercolors back where they belong once they’re done, were kind enough to head back to their seats, but that still leaves you with eight children glued to the glass, watching the driver get dragged out of the car. He’s dropped onto the pavement. Someone’s trying to resuscitate. You can tell from here that it won’t work.

“Okay, I mean it this time.” You try to cover your trembling voice, to apply the gentle authority you’d seen Barbara pull a thousand times. They don’t move an inch. Maybe it’s the gulf of difference in experience, maybe it’s just Barbara being Barbara, or maybe they can tell that you’re afraid.

You sigh and peel the kids off the window one by one and escort them into their seats. Inelegant. Methodical. Your limbs function outside your jurisdiction in a world entirely of their own. When you bring your hand to hover in front of your face, it feels lightyears away, a limb puppeted without its master.

You can still feel crumbled glass embedded between the creases of your palm.

Breathe, damn it.

“Who was that guy?” Jamila asks even after you’ve sat her back down by her dinosaur.

“I don’t know, buddy.” You brush cardboard clippings off her shorts and onto the floor. The fabric is void of feeling under your prickling fingers. “But I’m sure they’ve called an ambulance. They’ll take care of it.”

Sure enough, when you glance at the road, Janine is buzzing around the truck driver, her phone already glued to her ear.

The bell rings at last. The kids yell out in joy and their wave of conversation washes you back ashore for a second. They grab their bags, forget their plates and stickers and markers, and are out the door in record time. They’re so excited.

You can’t tell them to slow down, to stop, even, until the commotion outside is finished. You can’t do anything but stand still and listen as their voices ebb away into just an echo.

Pills. Where are your pills.

You stumble to your bag and search it with trembling, unsure hands, like fingers against a jammed car door, dipping into the seams to tear the whole thing off if you have to. You throw your keys on the table, same as your wallet, your planner, your lighter, and a handful of stray pens; all of them in a heap that slips over the edge and to the floor. You turn the whole bag inside out, but can’t find the pill bottle.

Your chest is getting tighter, heavier, like the spaces between your ribs are stuffed with cotton, like you’re trapped under a ten ton truck careening off the highway uncaring of casualties.

Breathe. Remember to breathe.

You can’t breathe, that’s the whole fucking problem.

The room is empty. Your only companion is the sun, and even she’s about to dip behind the buildings on the other side of the street.

You fall to your knees, grasping at the collar of your shirt, your fingers far too stiff, too jittery to undo one single button. You tear them open anyway. One flies under the shelf, like a body clean through the windshield. He said he didn’t need the seatbelt; it was such a short trip anyway. His legs were bent wrong six times over down in the ditch.

The world becomes muffled, stuffs your ears with ringing to keep you from hearing your own scratchy, frightened heaves for air. To save you the fear. The shame. You claw at your throat, at your chest, hoping you might dig out the chunk obstructing your windpipe.

You want to scream. So much. You’re mentally holding yourself by the shoulders, begging yourself to keep quiet. You’re in a position of authority. A child sees you like this, it’ll go down to the parents and you’re in trouble. Abbott’s in trouble. You can’t afford that.

You remember the mud staining your shirt when you’d crawled out, your leg broken and your face dripping with blood. You still don’t know if it was yours. Sirens, nearby. A broken airbag. A broken neck.

Blood.

You back up against the wall and your head bangs into the bricks with a sudden jerk, though the pain is nothing, nothing compared to—

A hand lands on your shoulder. You jump back in fright, your other arm flying to shield your face. Something hot drips down your cheek, but you can’t bring your fingers up to check, can’t trap yourself in that knowledge.

“Whoa, okay,” someone says. “No sudden touching. Gotcha.” The voice sinks like a rock into deep, dark water, far off and twisted. You can’t move to see who it is, who’s come to watch you in your weakest, most undignified moment.

“I’m gonna take your hand,” they say. “That okay?”

You nod, but the movement is stiff and thick with tension, just like the neckbrace they’d given you, after everything. You had a rash for weeks.

Your hand is enveloped by another, the touch soft, the fingers a little cold. There are rings right above the knuckles: two of them plain bands and one with a big, sharp stone on it. You squeeze the hand hard, hard enough to make the other person groan a thick, hefty ‘ow’.

“Okay. Think you could try and breathe with me? Doesn’t have to be perfect.”

The person doesn’t wait this time. They take a deep breath, exaggerated enough for even you to hear, and then exhale, like wind in the trees on a stormy night when nobody should’ve been driving in the first place.

Your attempt in following them is sad and broken. The air remains trapped in your throat, refusing to flow all the way into your lungs, no matter how you try to wheeze it in or out.

“Good, keep going.”

It’s not even remotely good, not even passable, but you keep it up anyway. In and out, but it’s more like i-i-i-i-in-in-in and ooo-out-o-ooout. This doesn’t deter the person sitting next to you, though. They keep their breathing even and deep, and you follow them, out of pace and rhythm in a one-sided dance where you keep crushing your mystery partner’s toes.

“You’re doin’ real good,” they say, and a thumb is drawn across your knuckles, soft and soothing, free of crusted blood or thick, soupy mud. “Just keep going.

Ain’t no point in rushin’ it, right?”

You do as you’re told. In and out. Your pained attempts slowly start to resemble what the other person is doing, more of a mirror than a reflection in disturbed water. The locked knots in your muscles start unwinding themselves open one by one, and you suddenly find yourself sagging forwards without control.

Arms wrap around your torso and your head knocks into someone’s clavicle instead of the floor. You’re shifted like a living doll into a more comfortable position and your nose buries itself into the nook between the person’s neck and shoulders. You inhale a lungful of syrupy perfume and papaya shampoo.

The clock keeps ticking. The rhythm anchors you, keeps you safely here on the classroom floor where there’s no cars, no highways, no forgotten seatbelts.

“That any better?”

Melissa Schemmenti moves her hand to your back to draw big, smooth circles into your shirt. You manage a dazed, exhausted nod.

The classroom is swimming back into view, bit by bit, color by color. Chairs abandoned where their occupants leapt out of them, craft supplies all over the floor. Tamir forgot his backpack.

“The kids—“

“Are fine,” Melissa says. Her arm slides off your back and around your shoulder instead. She squeezes you tight. “Janine and Gregory were on herding duty.”

“Ok,” you whisper. The clock ticks on, and your stomach dips when you read the face: ten past three.

“You wanna talk about it?” Melissa asks.

The scenery fades in and out, transforms into the woods by the highway and back into an elementary art class in disarray. A mess, both ways. You press your knuckles into your eyes and watch the sparks.

“I’m not sure,” you say.

Melissa nods and clicks open her phone. She shoots someone a text, though you only realize to look away by the time she’s about to write something to Janine.

“Thanks, though” you mumble into the crook of her neck. Your body is dipping straight past relaxed all the way into half-dead. Your fingers feel like spaghetti noodles.

Melissa huffs a laugh. “It’s no trouble.”

You sniff and wipe your cheeks. Apparently you were crying after all.

“How did you find me?”

Melissa puts her phone back in her pocket and you can feel her jaw tighten. She’s thinking.

“I was coming to check on the kids because, well. You know.” She waves her free hand toward the window. “I saw you go down. Fell right off your feet. Scared me to hell, you know.”

You grimace. “Sorry.”

“Pssh,” she says. “Like I said. It’s no trouble.”

You watch the splotch of sunlight, still persistently on the wall. Another hour and it’ll be gone.

You start to peel yourself off of Melissa, pausing mid-movement to wait for the ringing in your ears to ease up, and lean against the wall instead. Melissa, thankfully, keeps her arm around you for support.

“I was in a car accident,” you say.

Melissa’s brow shoots to her hairline when her head whips around.

“It was bad.” You rub your fingers together; a feeble attempt to get some feeling back into them. “I was sitting in the back and my best friend was driving. Her boyfriend was in the passenger seat.”

Deep breaths. In and out.

“They both died.”

“Jesus,” Melissa says, spits the lord’s name in a way that would make Barbara send both of you to sunday school. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Still.”

“Yeah.” You clear your throat, hoping to buy yourself a second of time to stave off any further admission; words you know you can’t keep to yourself right now but ones you’re embarrassed to admit regardless. “I can’t even watch tv shows about that stuff ever since. Of course it would find me in the front yard.” You scoff. “Figures.”

Melissa sighs, soft and smooth, so unlike your own strained, barely calmed breathing. “Shit.”

You can’t help the smile. “Yeah.”

“You feeling any better?” she asks.

You give your neck a little roll, wiggle your fingers and your toes. “I think so. I don’t think I can walk just yet, though.”

“That’s all right. My dinner plans can wait a couple minutes.”

Footsteps draw your attention to the hall. Barbara appears in the doorway in her light brown jacket, her and Melissa’s purses both slung over her shoulder. She takes a quick look at you and then stares meaningfully at Melissa, posing a silent question.

Heat floods into your cheeks, your neck, your ears. It could’ve been Janine, could’ve been Gregory, even Jacob, but of course it has to be Barbara Howard, the singlemost composed person in the whole world, who stumbles in on you crying into Melissa’s shoulder.

Her divorce papers were recently filed, though, so if anything, she’s probably very familiar with the feeling.

Melissa mimes ‘five more minutes’ at Barbara, and there’s a silent battle of wills between them, a conversation you couldn’t even begin to understand, after which Barbara sighs with a smile on her face, bows her head and disappears back into the hall.

“You gonna get home okay?” Melissa asks you when the sound of Barbara’s heels has faded.

“Yeah. Usually I bike, but I think I’ll walk home today. I’ll be fine.” Melissa’s face dips into a frown as she very seriously doubts you. There’s no escaping that look, and it only takes you a second to start sweating. You wonder how people actually trying to fight Melissa Schemmenti aren’t immediately recuded to cinders.

“I swear,” you say, and draw a cross over your heart. Melissa smacks her lips and tilts her head as she assesses your woozy, bulldozed self. Apparently you aren’t shaking that bad, because when she straightens herself, she says, “Okay. But.”

You want to groan. A good sign. Your feet are a little closer to ground again.

“You text both me and Barb when ya get home. Is that clear?”

You lift your hand in a salute. “Crystal.”

Melissa laughs, a smoke-worn, throaty sound that pulls you another inch closer to reality.

“Keep that up and no Schemmenti leftovers for you,” she says. “Cheeky little shit.”

She somehow drags a laugh out of you, short and genuine and good, and it’s not like none of this happened, but it lets you put a band-aid on the wound at least.

“I think I could try getting up now.” You try putting a little pressure on your foot, and though your leg doesn’t immediately smack right back to the floor, it does tremble a significant amount. Heat crawls down your neck again as you ask,

“Could you, uh…”

“’Course.”

Melissa gets to her feet with a strained groan and a ‘fuck my fucking knees’, but manages to get herself standing. She offers you her hand and you take it, keeping your free palm firmly against the wall as she pulls you to your feet. It’s an unsteady operation, one that leaves you dizzy and winded, and nearly back on your ass more than once.

Once you’re safely standing, Melissa gathers up the contents of your bag and hands it to you, but only once she’s made sure that you can actually carry it. She holds you by the shoulders all the way to the hall, and doesn’t let go until the door has safely clicked shut. You still keep your hand by the wall, though. Just in case.

“I’ll have to come in early tomorrow to clean up,” you say with a sigh.

“Don’t even think about it.”

When you look at her, Melissa is staring you down with the intensity of three suns. Whole solar systems, even. You put your hands up in surrender.

“Only if you’re sure,” you say. It is a relief, you have to admit. Especially if you still have to run to the pharmacy to get your prescription refilled.

“Don’t you worry your li’l head about it.”

She walks you all the way to the entrance, where Barbara is still waiting with a paperback book propped on Melissa’s bag.

“All cleared up, then?” she asks.

“Yup,” Melissa says. Short and sweet. Barbara doesn’t ask any further question, though you doubt it’s from lack of interest. At least Melissa has a dinner story to share, if nothing else.

You all slip out the door, but Melissa stops you there. She looks you over, head to toe, her lips pursed and her hands fiddling with the strap of her purse.

“You sure about this?” she asks. “I could give you a ride.”

You fish your keys from your bag and close your fingers around the one meant for the lock on your bike.

“I’ll be okay. And I’ll text you.”

Melissa raises her brow.

“Both of you.”

The idea of sending Barbara Howard a text of any kind outside a professional environment feels like some kind of a breach of protocol, but Barbara herself doesn’t seem phased. Outward, at least.

Janine is going to lose her mind when you tell her about this.

A cool breeze slides under your thin shirt, and your arms erupt in goosebumps.

“I better get going,” you say, but can’t get yourself to walk over to the bike rack just yet. Your fingernail digs into the notches of the key, and you try to figure out something to say, anything that could put into words just how much Melissa has done for you in one afternoon. In the end, you decide to go with something simple.

“Thank you, Melissa.”

She looks amused, truly like she’s done what anybody else would have. Like it’s nothing. You wonder if she’ll ever know how much it means, even if you tried to tell her.

“Eh.” She shrugs. “It was no trouble.”

How perfectly Melissa of her.

“See you tomorrow,” you say, and with one final wave and a smile goodbye, you start heading for home.

Behind you, once you’re definitely out of range, Barbara turns to Melissa.

“What happened?” she asks.

Melissa watches you clear the crosswalk and waits until you disappear behind the Subway.

“I’ll tell you later, hon.” She presses a kiss to Barbara’s cheek. “First we need to eat. I am too fucking hungry to talk.”

“Melissa Ann Schemmenti,” Barbara gasps, “you watch that tongue of yours.”

“Don’t you worry about that, Barb.”

“Incorrigible,” Barbara mutters and heads for the car. Melissa doesn’t miss the smile on her face.

“Love you too.”

#Melissa Schemmenti #Reader #Melissa Schemmenti x Reader #Melissa x Reader #Abbott Elementary #Reader Insert

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