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Constellations - Sam Monroe

Summary: You move in next door to Sam and the two of you quickly become friends. It doesn’t take Sam long to realize that he’s falling love with you, but he would never risk losing the only friend he has by telling you.

Warnings: unprotected sex, penetrative sex, angst, public humiliation, oral sex (Sam receiving), handjob (Sam receiving), nipple play, soft sex, mention of past drug addiction, George lived, mention of cancer, reader lives with her brother, use of cringe nicknames (sorry i’m a sucker for a cheesy nickname), inexperienced!Sam, bullying, praise, crying, Sam is insecure.

A/N: this one is more of a short story than a one shot, so be warned it is veeeeery lengthy.

Masterlist

Sam felt like a fucking stalker.

He wasn’t, really. He swore. He was just…curious.

He’d been staring at the big moving truck parked next door for the past hour, trying to work up the courage to talk to the girl moving boxes in and out of the house that had recently gone off the market.

It was rare for Sam to see a new person that was around his age — one that didn’t know about his less than stellar past. He’d given up a long time ago on trying to change the people he went to high school with’s minds about him, but someone new…that could be exactly what he needed.

If he could work up the fucking courage to actually make a move instead of creepily watching from his bedroom window.

It would be fine. He’d just go downstairs, walk outside, introduce himself, and ask if he could do anything to help. He could be totally normal and definitely knew how to talk to pretty girls…right?

In reality, what did he truly have to lose? It wasn’t like he currently had any friends. If he got rejected, he’d just be right back to where he was now — hiding out in his room that, in retrospect, he maybe should’ve made a little bigger when helping build the damn house.

No, this would be good. He needed it to be good.

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, feeling your shirt sticking to your skin as you grabbed another ridiculously heavy box out of the moving truck.

You’d spent the last hour distracting yourself by fantasizing about all of the different ways you could kill your brother when he got back for leaving you to do all of the, literal, heavy lifting by yourself. It felt like the boxes were never ending and you couldn’t fathom how you’d had this much stuff at your old apartment.

Your body groaned in protest as you set the box down inside before, begrudgingly, going back out to retrieve another. You glared at the traitorous truck — that was starting to feel more like an endless Mary Poppins bag than a moving van — and reached for the next box. As you pulled it loose, it caught on another box and sent it tumbling to the ground — scattering clothes all across the pavement.

“Shit,” you cursed, setting the other box down with a frustrated sigh.

You bent down, fighting against your burning muscles and grumbling under your breath as you began to gather the items that had fallen out.

“You need a hand?”

Startled by the sudden voice behind you, you quickly whirred around. You huffed out a breath, laughing sheepishly as you took in the sight of the stranger who’d offered his help.

He looked young, probably about your age, and he was cute. Really cute. His shy smile held a boyish charm and he had the prettiest blue eyes you’d ever seen, matching the tuft of vibrant blue hair on the top of his head. His labret piercing glinted in the sunlight as he seemed to nervously chew on his lip.

“That would be nice, thank you,” you said, a grateful smile pulling at your lips.

Sam felt his face warm at the sight of your smile, his stomach erupting with…whatever was manlier than butterflies.

“Don’t mention it,” he shrugged, extending his hand toward you. “Name’s Sam, by the way. Like ��Sam I am’. The whole, ‘I am Sam, I am Sam, Sam I am.’ You know…Dr. Seuss…or whatever.”

Sam closed his eyes, silently cursing himself for whatever idiotic blabber had just fell from his mouth. He had one simple task. He just needed to introduce himself and he managed to bring up Dr. Seuss for fuck’s sake? It wasn’t even like Sam was a complicated name that needed explaining. He was pretty sure the name had been around for forever, like, even in the Bible.

He was about to turn around and retreat back to his room and pretend he’d never made this pathetically embarrassing attempt in the first place, but then he heard the soft sound of your laughter.

You took the hand of the awkwardly charming boy, shaking it as you said, “Nice to meet you, Sam I Am.”

You told him your name as well, save for the in depth explanation. He smiled and softly repeated it, blushing even deeper when he realized he’d been shaking your hand for far longer than socially acceptable. He pulled his hand away, brushing it on his cargo shorts as he looked at the mess of clothes scattered about.

He wordlessly started helping you pick everything up, stealing a few obvious glances at you as he did. You couldn’t help but watch him, feeling a warm endearment blooming in your chest. He was clumsy and awkward, but in a cute way.

“So, uh, did you just move here or something?” Sam asked, breaking the silence. “I mean, I know you just moved to this house because of the moving truck and all, but…”

You giggled and nodded, cutting him off and saving him from another embarrassing ramble as you said, “Yeah, my brother and I just moved here from a few states away.” You glanced over at the house he’d walked over from, admiring it for a moment. “That one yours?”

Sam looked back at the house, as if having to doublecheck that it was indeed his house before nodding.

“Yeah, it’s mine,” he said, picking up the box after setting the last piece of clothing inside of it and handing it to you. “Well, it’s my family’s. I actually helped build it. My dad and I built it together. I guess my mom technically helped, but it was mostly me and my dad.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as you whistled, lowly.

“Wow, that’s impressive,” you told him, grinning as he blushed and shrugged it off. “Really, I can’t even make a decent sandcastle. You built a whole house. So, are you going into architecture or something?”

Sam nodded, a small smile pulling at his lips as he said, “Yeah, it’s what I’m going for. I’m a student at the local community college. It’s lame, but I like building things.”

“It’s not lame,” you said, shaking your head. “I mean, how many of the other architecture students can say they’ve already built a house?”

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the ground as he laughed. “Yeah, I guess,” he muttered, his sheepish smile growing. “Are you gonna be taking any classes?”

You nodded, hoisting the box you were holding onto your hip as you said, “I’ll be starting out there next week for Summer B.”

Sam’s face seemed to light up at the confirmation that you’d be going to school with him. He cleared his throat, trying to mask his excitement as he nodded.

“Well, if you need anyone to show you around or anything, just let me know,” he shrugged, trying his best to play it cool. “I know starting in a new place can be scary.”

You smirked at him, taking the box toward your front door as you said, “Don’t worry, Sam I Am. I don’t scare easy. Thanks for the help, by the way.”

Sam felt his heart race at the stupid nickname, enjoying it way more than he probably should.

“No problem, anytime,” he waved, watching you retreat into the house. He felt a tug in his chest at the idea of your interaction being over and couldn’t stop himself from calling out after you. “If you need any help with the other boxes, I’ve got nothing better to do!”

You stopped, biting your lip to suppress a grin as you turned back around to face him. He stood there, looking ridiculously eager and hopeful. You glanced toward the other boxes still piled high in the moving truck before looking back at him.

“Yeah, alright,” you nodded. “Make yourself useful.”

Sam’s face broke out in a beaming smile as he practically ran to the moving truck to grab a box. You giggled as he hurried to join you, looking far too happy about the prospect of carrying heavy loads back and forth.

As you worked, you both chatted and got to know each other. You told Sam about where you and your brother were moving from and how you’d ended up there. Sam told you about how his parents had gotten back together and how his dad was in remission for cancer.

Talking with Sam made the grueling task of unpacking seem easy and fun. Time was flying by without you even realizing it. You were naturally drawn to him, fitting into motion like you’d known him your whole life.

Sam was over the moon. He felt like he’d finally found a friend that he could be himself around. There was an unexpected sense of hope creeping into his chest and, for the first time, he didn’t feel repulsed by it.

“Well, I think that’s officially the last box,” you sighed, placing your hands on your hips. “I’ll save all of the hard shit for my brother to do when he gets home, since he left me to do all of the moving.”

Sam brushed his hands off on his shorts, glancing around at all of the boxes now piled high in the living room.

“Well, if you need any more help or just want to get out of the house, I’m right next door,” he offered, wanting to make himself available for you.

“I know where to find you,” you said, grinning at him. “Thanks for the help, again, really. I’ll see you around, Sam I Am.”

Sam bit back the giddy laugh that threatened to escape his throat and gave you a small wave as he all but skipped back to his house. He hadn’t felt this good in years — like something was finally going in his favor.

Your brother returned a bit after Sam left and, after an annoying amount of begging and pleading from him, you spent the rest of the evening unpacking together.

“I met one of our neighbors today,” you told him, brushing some dust off of a picture frame and setting it up on a table. “He was nice.”

“He?” your brother asked, giving you a pointed look.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, “Not like that. He just helped me with the boxes. I think he could be a friend.”

You smiled at the thought of Sam as you went up to your freshly unpacked bedroom. You walked over to the window, looking at the house next door. Your smile grew as you saw Sam’s window directly across from yours. You made eye contact and gave him a small wave before shutting your blinds and getting ready for bed.

As you laid there, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

At the start of the next week, you were getting ready to begin your first day of classes at the local community college. As you made your way outside, you noticed Sam leaving his house at the same time.

You skipped over toward him, leaning against his car with a cheeky grin.

"Howdy, neighbor," you chirped. "Think I could catch a ride to school?"

Sam's face broke out into a wide, beaming smile as he spotted you, wasting no time in opening the passenger door of his car for you.

"Hop on in," he told you, gesturing his head toward the car.

You happily climbed into the passenger seat as Sam walked around the car and got in from the driver's side. You bit back a giggle as he rushed to try and tidy up some of the trash strewn about, a light blush warming his cheeks. His car smelled faintly of smoke, but you didn't mind. As he turned the key and the car roared to life, the sound of a grungy rock song started blaring through the speakers. He sheepishly turned it down, muttering a soft apology.

As he started driving, he stole secret glances over at you. You were watching the scenery rolling by, still trying to familiarize yourself with the new area.

"So, first day, huh?" Sam said, breaking the comfortable silence. "Nervous or excited?"

You thought for a moment before you shrugged and answered, "Both? I like new beginnings. It's a fresh start."

Sam nodded, his voice sounding a bit distant as he said, "Yeah, I get that."

He seemed to disappear inside his head for a moment, but you didn’t feel like it was your place to pry. At least, not yet. Instead, you glanced toward his bag and asked, “Is that a sketchbook? Are you an artist?”

Sam blinked a few times, as if shaking himself out of it, before looking back at the black leather book sticking out from his backpack.

“Oh, uh…I wouldn’t really call myself an artist,” he shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just like to draw sometimes.”

You looked over at him with a playful grin. “Can I see some?”

When Sam saw your hand reaching for the sketchbook, he blurted out a panicked, “No!” You retracted your hand and he paused, a light blush coloring his cheeks. “Sorry…I just, um…they aren’t any good.”

Settling back in your seat, you playfully shrugged and said, “Keep your secrets, Sam I Am.”

You navigated the first half of your day at the new school with relative ease. People had been eager to help you, fascinated by the rarity of a new person in the small area. You shared one class with Sam and got to grab lunch together, with him insisting on getting pizza down the street instead of eating whatever the campus cafe was offering.

When the day ended, you walked toward the parking lot with a group of students that had been talking your ear off. You laughed along with them as your eyes scanned the area, finally landing on Sam. He was leaning against his car, trying to act like he hadn’t been watching you.

You bid your goodbyes to the others and jogged over to Sam, smiling as you said, “Thanks for waiting on me.”

“No problem,” he shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the way his heart was racing. “So, uh…any plans for tonight?”

He didn’t want you to feel obligated to hang out with him, but he also secretly hoped you would. He felt a sense of happiness around you that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He didn’t want that to end.

“I’ll probably just stay in for the night,” you sighed, feeling the effects of the day wearing on you. “I need the night to process all of the new. I could use the company, though, if you aren’t doing anything.”

Sam’s face broke out into a dazzling grin, relief and a thrill of excitement running through him. He tried to reel it back in, to lessen the visible excitement, but it was no use.

“I’d be down for that,” he nodded, trying his best to sound nonchalant. “If that’s what you want.”

Sam parked his car in his driveway and the two of you walked over to your house. When you opened the front door, the smell of freshly baked cookies wafted beneath your noses.

Your brother, Andrew, was in the kitchen, pulling a tray out of the oven. You grinned, tossing your bag over your shoulder as you ran over and stole one off of the tray.

“Hey!” Andrew whined, reaching out to try and snatch the cookie back. His eyes locked over onto Sam, narrowing slightly. “Who’s this?”

“Andrew, this is my friend, Sam,” you said, gesturing between the two. “Sam, this is my brother, Andrew.”

Sam swallowed thickly and reached out his hand, a little unsure of himself. He didn’t often extend pleasantries with anyone, but he felt the need to in this case.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, forcing a nervous smile onto his face. “Thanks for having me over.”

Sam held his breath as Andrew stared him down for a long, tension-filled moment before shaking his hand with a grin.

“Nice to meet you, too, kid,” he nodded, stepping back to the tray of cookies. “Don’t let my sister give you a hard time.”

You batted your lashes innocently and said, “Me? Never.”

With a cheeky grin, you snatched as many cookies off of the tray as you could manage and bolted up the stairs. You heard Sam mumble an apology to your brother before following after you.

Up in your room, you shut the door behind you and handed Sam a cookie. He took a bite as he walked further in, glancing around at all of the decor.

Sam felt like he needed to drink up every little detail, knowing each small thing was giving him more information about your personality. He walked over to your bookshelf as you flopped onto your bed, taking a bite of your own cookie.

His fingers trailed over the spines of one of your collections, pulling a few out to look at the covers before placing them back.

“You have a lot of poetry,” he observed, holding a copy of Emily Dickinson publications. “You really into it or something?”

You nodded, smiling as you answered, “Yeah, I love poetry. I think it’s incredible how people can weave words and thoughts together to make such beautiful statements.”

Sam listened to you speak, happy for a furthered glimpse into your world. That’s how he found himself, an hour later, sitting beside you on your bed as you talked about anything and everything. He felt comfortable with you, like he could relax in your presence. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to.

“So, what’s your deal with this town, Sam I Am?” you asked, rolling over to prop your head in your hands as you looked at him. “I didn’t notice you talking to anyone other than me today. Are you going for the whole mysterious loner vibe?”

Your tone was lighthearted and joking, but you were genuinely curious. Sam had kept to himself the entire day, and you’d noticed people giving him odd looks. It was almost like they didn’t like him for some reason.

“Yeah, I guess I sorta keep to myself. Things haven’t been easy here, and I’ve had a bit of a rough past. I’m still dealing with the fallout, you know?” Sam replied, picking at the bottom of his jeans. He didn’t elaborate further, afraid of scaring you off and ruining his one shot at a real friend. “Things have been better lately. You’re helping with that, actually.”

You could tell there was more to it, but you didn’t press for details. Sam seemed like the kind of person who didn’t open up often and you didn’t want to ask for too much too quickly. Instead, you kept the conversation lighter, talking for a while longer.

Eventually, you ended up watching a movie. It was some shitty cable action film, but Sam seemed to be invested. The long day had caught up to you, and you started to doze off.

Sam tensed up as he felt your head rest on his shoulder, but he didn’t dare move. He released a shaky, slow breath as he tried to relax, feeling his heart pounding against his chest. All thoughts of the movie were forgotten as he focused on the feeling of you curled against him. He didn’t know how long he sat there after the credits rolled and the screen went dark, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up and end this temporary moment of bliss.

As it got later, he knew he couldn’t stay. With great reluctance, he gently lifted your head and laid it against the pillows before easing off of the bed. He took one last look at you, smiling as he felt his heart constricting in an unusual way before he turned and walked out of the door.

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed with the vague memories of falling asleep mid-movie. Begrudgingly, you got up and ready for the day before bounding down the stairs to the kitchen. You hopped onto one of the stools in front of the island, greedily grabbing at the plate of breakfast that Andrew sat down in front of you.

“Care to tell me why the neighbor boy was leaving your room at nearly one in the morning?” Andrew asked, pretending to be stern.

You rolled your eyes, snorting as you stuffed a piece of toast into your mouth.

“We were watching a movie and I fell asleep,” you told him, jumping down and grabbing your bag. “He’s just a friend, Drew. Don’t get your panties in a wad.”

You stuck your tongue out and him as you walked out the front door and he flicked you off in response. You jogged outside, making your way over to Sam’s house where he was waiting by his car.

“Morning, neighbor,” you said, cheerfully hopping into the passenger side. “Sorry I fell asleep last night. Did the movie have a good ending?”

Sam smiled at you, starting the engine and pulling out of the driveway. You sniffed the air, noticing the smoke smell had been replaced by the scent of a new air freshener and the trash had been cleaned out.

“Yeah, it ended well. The hero got the girl and everyone lived happily ever after, blah blah blah,” he joked, giving you a playful look.

In all honesty, he couldn’t really tell you how it ended. He’d been too focused on you to pay any attention to the rest of the movie. He sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that, though.

When lunch time rolled around, you both sat together at the table under the oak tree that you’d liked the day before. You’d insisted on getting lunch from the cafe, claiming that you needed to try the campus food at least once. Now, though, you understood why Sam had protested against it.

“Any plans for tonight?” Sam asked, giving you some of his fries as he took your pickle spear.

“No, I don’t think I have any—”

“Hey, new girl!”

You turned, your words being cut off by a group of students sitting at another table. You recognized them from yesterday. They beckoned you over, giggling and whispering to themselves as one of them said, “Come here for a sec!”

You glanced back at Sam, giving him an apologetic look as you said, “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Sam nodded, giving you a brief smile that fell the moment you walked way. He kept his head down, forcing himself to keep eating his lunch as a pit of jealousy began to form in his stomach. He tried not to worry, knowing he had no right to your time.

When you finally came back to the table, he tried to be casual as he asked, “So, did they just wanna say hi or something?”

“They actually invited me out with them, tonight,” you said, grinning happily. “They’re going out to the pier and wanted me to tag along. That’s exciting, right?”

Sam saw the excitement in your eyes, but couldn’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment and dread.

“Cool. That does sound fun. I’m happy for you,” he replied, forcing a smile onto his face.

He wanted you to be happy, but he also wanted to keep spending time with you. You were the first real friend he’d had in a long time. He knew he couldn’t be possessive over you, but he hoped you wouldn’t be pushed apart by this new social circle opening up for you.

“We’ll catch up later,” I told him, nudging his shoulder softly. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Sam I Am.”

The evening had been fun. You’d gotten along well with the group you went out with. They filled you in on the ins and outs of the town and everyone in it — including Sam.

You hadn’t really listened much to what they’d had to say about him, brushing their words off. Other than that, the night had gone by without any problems. When you finally made it back to your house, you said goodnight to your brother and went upstairs to your room.

When you walked by your window, you noticed Sam through the window of his own room. You grinned, opening it up and climbing out to sit on the roof as you waved at him.

Sam hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you all afternoon. His mind had been a whirlwind of fears and doubts and self ridicule for missing you so much when he’d only just met you. When he spotted your figure out on the roof, his heart had skipped a beat.

He quickly got out of bed, opening up his window and climbing out. “Hey,” he called out, waving back at you.

The edges of your roofs were close enough that he could jump over onto yours with little effort. He sat down beside you, feeling the cool evening breeze against his skin.

“Did you have fun?” Sam asked, wanting to hear about your night even though a part of him was still nursing jealousy about your time with the popular crowd.

“Yeah, I had a lot of fun,” you said, smiling at him as you tucked your knees up to your chest and gazed up at the stars. “It’s so beautiful out here; isn’t it? I never saws the stars like this back home.”

Sam nodded in agreement, looking up at the night sky as well as he said, “It really is. I love nights like this, when it’s quiet and all you can hear are the waves.”

He tried, he really did, not to bring up the subject again, but he just couldn’t help himself. His self-sabotaging curiosity was getting the better of him, and he asked, “So, are you going to hang out with them more often now?”

You shrugged, picking at the roof as you said, “Maybe. They want me to.” You looked back over at him, leaning closer to nudge his side. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll always make time for you.”

Sam smiled and ducked his head to hide the soft blush warming his cheeks. Your gentle reassurance sent a flicker of relief through him.

“I wouldn’t want you to stop hanging out with me,” he said, softly, “but you don’t have to choose. I just want you to know that you have a friend in me, no matter what.”

He’d been guarded for so long, and this was the first time he’d felt like someone could break through his barriers. The more time you spent together, the more he realized he never wanted to go back to the way things were before he met you.

“You see that group of stars right over there?” you asked, pointing to a small cluster. “Do you know what constellation that is?”

Sam leaned over, squinting as he tried to follow your line of sight. He stared at the spot, but eventually shook his head.

You laughed quietly and said, “That’s ‘cause it’s not one. It should be, though, right? It makes the perfect image of a bundle of flowers. So, I decided to make it one myself. I call it Wildflower. It’s my favorite constellation.”

Sam looked up where you indicated, admiring the cluster of stars you’d dubbed Wildflower. “It’s beautiful,” he said, impressed by your creativity. “It makes sense. It really does look like a bundle of flowers.”

You both sat in silence for a while, staring up at the stars and listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the beach. You thought back to the evening you’d had, hesitating to even bring it up at all. Ultimately, you decided it would be best to talk about it.

“Hey, when I was out with that group tonight, they…mentioned some things about you,” you said, softly. “Like, drugs and other things… I didn’t entertain them or anything and I shut them down immediately, but I just wanted to know if you knew what they’d been referring to.”

Sam’s heart sank, hearing that the group had spoken about his past. He knew all too well the rumors and whispers that followed him, some completely ridiculous and some…much too true. His jaw clenched as he felt the familiar dread of isolation creeping back up on him.

“Yeah, it’s true,” he said, his voice low. “I’m clean now, though,” he added, finally meeting your gaze. “I turned my life around and I plan to keep it that way.”

You took a moment, processing his words. You could see the sadness in his eyes, the pain and regret. You hated that he was still so plagued by his past.

“The way I see it,” you started, giving him a small smile, “the past is the past for a reason. All that matters to me is who you are now, and that guy seems pretty cool.”

Sam let out a soft breath, blinking quickly as the sting of tears threatened his eyes. He felt a small weight fall off of his shoulders as he smiled at you.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “That means more to me than you know.”

Over the next few weeks, your friendship with Sam continued to grow. He still took you to campus every morning and you ate lunch together every day — unless the other group drug you away. Sam spent most afternoons at your house, even bonding with your brother. Andrew had started making an extra plate of breakfast for him every morning and expecting him at dinner every night.

One Friday night, you’d been getting ready to go out with the other group that had brought you into their circle. When you heard a knock at the door, you’d thought it was one of them. Your face fell with immediate concern as you opened the door to see Sam, tears streaming down his face.

“Sam, what is it? What’s wrong?” you asked, immediately stepping aside to let him into the house.

He stumbled through the door, gasping for air through the sobs as he tried to steady himself. “I don’t know what to do,” he cried, his voice breaking.

He explained that his father, who you knew had been in remission from cancer, had taken a turn for the worst. He felt helpless, like he was having to face the thought of losing him all over again after finally feeling like they were on solid ground.

“My mom’s freaking out and I need someone to help me keep it together,” he continued, looking at you with desperate, pleading eyes. “Please.”

Sam felt utterly raw and vulnerable, but he knew he could trust you. He needed you. He needed your light to wash away the darkness that was creeping up on him again.

“Oh, Sammy,” you sighed, feeling your heart break as you reached out to him. “Come here.” You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Sam’s body trembled as you embraced him, his arms immediately snaking around your waist as he buried his face in your hair. His tears soaked through to your skin, but you didn’t mind.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, hiccuping slightly as he gripped you tighter.

“He could still be okay, Sam,” you reassured him, rubbing his back. “People with health issues have backslides all the time and still get better. It’s good that the doctors caught it in time. I can’t promise that it will work out, but I can promise to be here every step of the way. You won’t go through it alone.”

Sam pulled away, despite his longing to stay in your arms forever, and wiped at his eyes. He was too overwhelmed to be embarrassed by the thought of crying in front of you.

“Thank you,” he said, letting out a shaky breath. “You’ve been a good friend.”

“You’ve been a good friend, too, Sam I Am,” you smiled, reaching up to wipe the remaining tears from his cheeks. “The best friend.”

You gently grabbed his arm, leading him over to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, you looked around until you spotted the plate wrapped in foil.

“Andrew isn’t here to cook,” you told him, “but I can heat up some left overs, yeah? You need to eat.”

Sam smiled at the use of his nickname, a small comfort in the midst of the turmoil. “Best friend, huh?” he echoed, a hint of shyness creeping into his tone.

He watched with appreciation as you warmed up the food, finally taking the time to realize how hungry he was. He ate dinner with you, grateful for the small sense of familiarity after a day of such uncertainty.

“You can stay here tonight, if you want to,” you offered, washing the dishes after you’d both eaten. “You can borrow some of Andrew’s clothes to sleep in.”

Sam thought about denying the offer, insisting that he’d be fine, but he couldn’t. He needed the support and there was no use in trying to act tough.

“I’d like that,” he said, softly. “Thank you.”

He changed into the clothes you’d given him as you went up to your room and pulled back the covers. You got in the bed as he lingered in the doorway, unsure of what his next move should be.

“You can sleep in here,” you told him, patting the space next to you. “I don’t mind and I’ll punch Andrew in the stomach if he has anything to say about it.”

Sam hesitated, glancing between you and the vacant space on the bed. Cautiously, he slowly walked toward you as if he was waiting for you to change your mind. He climbed onto the bed, leaving a respectful distance between the two of you.

His body tensed as you pulled him into your arms, holding him close. He rested his head on your chest, relaxing as he listened to the steady thrum of your heartbeat. You ran your fingers through his hair and his eyes fluttered shut.

The only thing he was certain about in the current maelstrom of uncertainty was that he never wanted to be anywhere else.

Over the next month, Sam’s dad made a recovery. You’d stayed by Sam’s side throughout the entire process. You’d gone with him to visit his dad in the hospital and got to know his mother. Sam had blushed furiously as they told you stories of Sam as a child and how he’d called his pajamas his Sammy Jammies. You’d let him stay at your house on nights when he didn’t want to be alone, and Andrew hadn’t even tried to protest it.

Things were better now, more lighthearted. You were sitting at your usual table under the oak tree for lunch and you were curiously watching Sam as he doodled in his sketchbook.

“What are these grand secrets you keep in that book of yours?” you asked, tossing a fry at him with a laugh. “It doesn’t matter how many times I ask, you never let me see what you’ve been drawing.”

Sam grinned, dodging the flying fry, and closed his sketchbook as he slid it under his seat.

“They’re personal, nosy,” he teased, shaking his head.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” you sighed, huffing dramatically.

The group that you hung out with occasionally walked past your table, waving at you and glaring at Sam. One of the guys, Nathan, lingered back. He smiled at you, giving you a flirtatious wink before sauntering off after them. A warm blush tinged your cheeks as you looked down at your food.

Sam observed the interaction, keeping his expression neutral despite the familiar twinge of jealousy he always seemed to feel when it came to you. He knew he had no right to feel that way, given the nature of your relationship, but the instinct was there nonetheless.

“So, any plans for the weekend?” he asked, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Uh…I’m not sure, actually,” you said, awkwardly picking at the food on your plate. Noticing Sam’s confused expression, you added, “Nathan sort of asked me to go on a date with him, is all. I don’t know if I’m gonna go, though.”

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to process the information. “Oh,” he said, trying to keep his tone even.

His emotions were a whirlwind. Surprise, concern, and — he couldn’t deny it — a hint of disappointment. He reminded himself that you were free to date whoever you chose, but he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of possessiveness.

He didn’t know how to respond, unsure of whether or not he should voice any opinion on the matter. Instead, he focused on his food. Deep down, he hoped you would choose him over Nathan, but he knew it was a pipe dream.

The tension hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable, as you both sat in silence.

“Yeah, I don’t know. I might go,” you said, quietly. You glanced up at Sam, feeling a sudden sense of vulnerability. “Do you think I should?”

Sam debated whether to offer his opinion, but ultimately decided against it. “It’s up to you. If you think you’ll enjoy it, then go,” he replied, noncommittally.

“Oh, yeah, okay,” you said, a bit dejected by his answer. “I guess I’ll go, then.” You smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. You got up and grabbed your bag, starting to walk toward your next class. “I’ll see you after school, Sam I Am.”

Sam watched as you left, your response weighing heavily on him. His thoughts were consumed by the prospect of your date for the rest of the day. The idea of you with someone else bothered him more than he cared to admit. The green-eyed monster of jealousy was rearing its head once more.

Despite his conflicting thoughts, he knew he’d have to put on a brave face. You meant too much to him to jeopardize what you had. He was grateful for your friendship and, while part of him harbored deeper feelings, he knew that it was too late to cross that line.

On Saturday night, you sat in the car with Nathan as he drove you home. The date hadn’t been horrible, but it hadn’t been what you expected either.

He pulled up to your house, parking the car as he turned toward you. A half-smirk pulled at his lips before his face resembled that of a dead fish as he leaned toward you. Your eyes widened as you realized he wanted to kiss you.

“I had a great time tonight,” he whispered, pressing his lips to yours.

There was no spark, no butterflies, no magic.

You pulled back, smiling politely at him and thanking him for the date before getting out of the car.

You climbed the stairs to your room, opening the window and crawling out onto the roof. You threw tiny stones toward Sam’s bedroom, trying to get his attention.

Sam had been lying on his bed, wallowing in self-pity as thoughts of your date ate him alive. When he heard the thud of the rocks, his heart leapt into his throat. He opened his window, smiling before climbing over to join you.

“I just had the weirdest date of my life,” you laughed, rubbing your face with your hands. “He took me to this restaurant and literally just stared at me the entire time. It was like he didn’t know how to have a conversation. I tried talking to him about all sorts of things and he just…looked at me. Then, I suggested we go for a walk on the beach and he said he didn’t like sand. Sand! We live in a beach town and he doesn’t like sand. Not to mention he kissed me when he dropped me off and there was just…nothing.”

Sam listened intently as you recounted the evening, his heart swelling with relief as you described the lackluster nature of the date.

“Sounds like it was a bit of a dud,” he commented, his tone sympathetic.

He wanted to tell you how he felt, to share the depth of his emotion and how he saw the magic in you, but he held his tongue. It wasn’t his place to make such a move.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked, draping his arm over your shoulder as you leaned into him.

Sam felt a surge of gratitude for the moment, for being the one you chose to confide in. He realized he would always gladly take the role of your friend, even if it meant sacrificing the chance of something more.

“No,” you huffed, resting against him as you looked up at the sky. “Anyone who wouldn’t watch the stars with me isn’t worth ranting about.”

A few weeks later, you and Sam were sitting in your room as you were pleading with him to come with you to a party.

“C’mon, please, Sam?” you begged, pulling at his arm. “They want me to go, but I’ll be so bored without you.”

The group you were friends with had invited you to a party at Nathan’s beach house, but you didn’t want to ditch Sam to go to it.

“It’ll be good for you to get out and socialize for once,” you told him. “Plus, it’s right down the road so we could leave anytime we wanted to.”

Sam hesitated, a mix of anxiety and curiosity warring within him. “I don’t know. I’m not really into parties,” he replied, shifting his weight from leg to leg.

He was used to keeping to himself. The only person he hung out with was you. The thought of entering a crowd of people that he barely knew was daunting, especially when they seemed to have some sort of vendetta against him.

He didn’t want to ruin the evening for you, but the thought of facing Nathan and the others made him hesitate. However, in the end, his loyalty and desire to make you happy won out.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go with you,” he conceded, offering you a small smile, “but if things get bad, I want out. Deal?”

“Deal!” you squealed, wrapping your arms around him. “Thank you, thank you!”

You buzzed around your room, continuing to get ready. You liked socializing and enjoyed going to parties, but you didn’t like sacrificing your time with Sam to do so. This would be the best of both worlds.

Sam took a moment to admire you, the way you moved and smiled with such infectious energy. He felt a surge of pride in knowing you valued his company above all else.

As you left for the party, Sam’s apprehension lingered. It was tempered a bit by the knowledge that you’d be by his side. When you approached Nathan’s beach house, Sam prepared himself for whatever was in store.

The house was already loud and crowded as you walked in, the music blaring over the chatter of people. You grabbed Sam’s arm, dragging him into the kitchen and handing him a cup of soda. You poured yourself one of whatever liquor was on the table and downed it in one go.

Sam chuckled, touched by the fact that you’d remembered he was sober. He smiled in appreciation, grateful for the small gesture.

As you mingled, Sam found himself slipping into the background and observing the party around you. He spotted Nathan across the room, whose gaze was lingering on you before snapping over to Sam with disdain. Sam could feel the animosity and tension simmering between them, an unspoken tangible weight in the air.

You, however, seemed to be enjoying yourself. You were laughing and conversing with everyone, making Sam smile. Your happiness was his priority.

Making your way back over to Sam, you grinned and said, “See? It’s not so bad, is it?”

As you said that, two of Nathan’s friends ran into us. They both apologized, one of them placing his hand on Sam’s backpack.

“Don’t mind them, they’re just drunk,” I told him, rolling my eyes.

“No, not so bad,” he said, trying to believe his own words.

He couldn’t help but feel uneasy, like something was off, but he didn’t want to take away from your fun. Instead, he decided to grin and bear it. If it made you happy, that’s all that mattered.

You were about to make Sam go dance with you when Nathan got the attention of the crowd, standing up on his couch. Everyone gathered around as he made an announcement.

“Attention, folks, I’ve got your entertainment for the evening,” he said, a sadistic smirk on his face.

You felt your blood run cold as he pulled out Sam’s sketchbook. His friends must have snatched it when they ran into him. Sam immediately moved forward, but the two guys grabbed him to hold him still.

“Nathan, what the hell are you doing?” you yelled. “Stop and give that back!”

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” Nathan chided, wagging his finger. “Don’t you want to see what your little lover boy has been keeping from you?”

You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion as Nathan grinned.

“Exhibit A, the brilliant works of the freakish stalker,” he said, beginning to flip through the sketchbook.

Your eyes widened as a soft gasp escaped your lips. They were all drawings of you. From times spent on the roof, watching the stars, to sitting at your lunch table, to watching movies together. He’d even drawn you from the first day you met.

“Looks like you’ve got a not-so-secret admirer,” Nathan joked, making the crowd laugh.

Sam’s heart plummeted, a mix of anger and embarrassment welling within him. He fought against Nathan’s friends, but their grip was firm.

As the crowd gathered, Sam could feel the weight of their scrutiny. The words freakish stalker hit him like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the humiliation churning in his chest.

The laughter of the crowd stung like salt to an open wound, leaving Sam to wonder if you’d see him differently now that his feelings were laid bare. He clenched his fists, wanting nothing more than to snatch the sketchbook back and leave.

“Wait, we haven’t even gotten to the best part yet,” Nathan cheered, flipping to the final page.

There was another drawing of you with the Wildflower constellation. On the page, Sam had written some words.

“The freak thinks he’s a poet now. How romantic,” Nathan taunted, turning the book around to read the words out loud.

“If I am the stars, you are the sky. I can only shine in the vastness of your presence. If I am the moon, you are the sun. Your light reflects upon what was once barren. If I am the earth, you are the wildflowers. I bloom when graced by you.”

Your heart stopped as Nathan read the poem Sam had written. The laughter from the crowd was overpowering. You felt like you couldn’t move. Everything was happening to him in a blur and you felt powerless to stop the cruelty.

“I guess little lover boy wears his heart on his page, huh?” Nathan joked, smirking at Sam. “Might as well run away while you can, freak. She’s never gonna reciprocate your little crush.”

Nathan’s friends let Sam go, shoving him back with a laugh.

Sam’s ears filled with a ringing, the crowd’s laughter a cacophony that left him feeling dazed and hollow. His face burned, his chest tight as he fell to the floor.

The denial of a possibility for a mutual connection felt like a dagger to the heart. Sam’s mouth worked soundlessly, unable to form the words that begged you to see past the humiliating spectacle.

In that moment, he couldn’t fathom how to navigate the murky waters of your relationship. The fallout of the night left him unsure of where you stood. He got up on shaky limbs, feeling unsteady as he pushed through the crowd and bolted out of the front door.

You watched Sam storm out, your heart shattering as he did. Your eyes scanned the crowd, rage burning within you as you glared at Nathan. You rushed up to him and grabbed Sam’s sketchbook from his hands.

“Fuck you!” you yelled, chest heaving as you looked at all of them. “Fuck all of you! You’re all sick and pathetic and cruel.” Your gaze zeroed back in on Nathan as you seethed, “You will never be even half the man that Sam is.”

You turned on your heel and ran out of the house, trying to find Sam. You spotted him down on the beach, rushing toward his house as he furiously wiped at his face.

You hurried after him and called out, “Sam! Sam, wait! Please!”

Sam felt the sting of rejection and humiliation trailing in his wake, the knowledge that he’d exposed his heart to the scorn of others weigh heavily on his shoulders.

As he trudged along, his fingers tightened around the hem of his shirt. The fabric smelled like you and he wanted nothing more than to find comfort in your embrace, but he knew he couldn’t. Not anymore.

Sam walked until he couldn’t escape the call of your voice anymore. He paused, torn between the desire to confront the situation and the urge to escape the cruelty and mortification that had fallen on him.

With teary eyes, he turned to face you as his heart pounded in his chest. He searched for the words to convey his feelings, to explain the torrent of emotions that had laid waste to the tender, private world he had crafted for you.

You caught up to him, breathless from running, and felt your heart ache at the sight of him. He looked utterly devastated and you hated that you couldn’t save him.

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” you breathed, the guilt washing over you like the ocean waves. “I had no idea they would do that. I had no idea they were capable of such cruelty. I never would’ve hung out with them if I’d known.”

You held out his sketchbook for him, looking down. You were afraid that he’d hate you for putting him in this position.

“I got this back for you,” you said, quietly.

Sam excepted the sketchbook, cradling it to his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you, too scared that it would be the last time he’d get to.

“Those drawings…the poem…” you trailed off, not knowing what to say. “They’re really good. Incredible, even. You’re very talented…but, are they…do they mean…?”

Sam nodded, a stray tear dripping from his cheek as he lowered his head and whispered, “Yes.” He shook his head, sniffling and wiping his face. “I never meant for you to see them. I’ll stop if you want me to, I won’t…”

“Stop?” you asked, feeling tears prick at your eyes. “Sam, nobody has ever seen me the way you do. Those drawings are beautiful. You drew my constellation. You wrote me a poem.”

You walked closer to him, gently cupping his face in your hands and wiping away the teardrops on his cheeks.

“I knew from that first day I met you that you were different, Sam,” you told him, gazing up into his eyes. “You had the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen…and, now, I know you have the prettiest heart. It would be an honor to get to hold it in my hands.”

Sam froze, your touch a balm to his wounds. He felt strength return to his limbs, your words like a soothing salve. He searched your eyes for any sign of dishonesty, hardly daring to hope that what he was hearing was true.

“Do you…mean that?” he stammered, unsure if he deserved such acceptance.

“I wanted you to tell me not to go,” you whispered, your eyes never leaving his. “When Nathan asked me on that date, I wanted you to tell me not to go because…I wanted to be with you.”

Sam gasped softly, his eyes flickering with disbelief. You stepped closer to him, pressing your body against his as you stood on your tiptoes and kissed him.

Sam froze in shock for a moment before melting into you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer.

Kissing Sam was like nothing you’d ever felt before. His lips left you breathless. When Nathan had tried to kiss you, you’d felt nothing. With Sam, you felt everything.

Sparks, butterflies, magic.

Your eyes fluttered open to gaze at him, a grin growing on your face as you bit your lip and grabbed his hand. You pulled him through your yard and to your front door, opening it as quietly as possible. You held a finger up to his lips, giggling softly.

“My brother’s asleep,” you whispered, quietly pulling him up the stairs.

Sam followed you like a giddy puppy. He still couldn’t believe the turn of fate that had been dealt to him. His heart swelled with joy and an inexplicable rightness.

As soon as your bedroom door was shut, your lips found his again. Sam’s head was spinning as you kissed him, a yearning hunger bubbling to the surface inside of him. Your fingers ran through his hair, a feeling that was so familiar yet so new. He didn’t want to come up for air, didn’t want to spend a second apart from you.

You pulled back for a moment, gently guiding him toward your bed. You gazed at him with desire-filled eyes, softly pushing him to lie back. Slowly, you climbed on top of him to straddle his hips.

“Let me make it all go away, Sammy,” you whispered, kissing the corners of his mouth. “Let me help you forget.”

Sam felt a shudder run through him — the weight of his past, the lingering shadows of regret, and the ghosts of addiction, pressed into submission by the warmth of your presence.

He parted his lips, his chest heaving with anticipation as you leaned over him. Your words were a siren call, luring him to the safe harbor he’d sought out for so long.

Sam let out a soft, shaky breath as he nodded his head. He gently grabbed your face, pulling you back in for a slow, sensual kiss.

Your tongues danced with each other as your mouths moved in tandem. You tugged at the silky strands of his hair, slowly rocking your hips against his.

Sam moaned into the kiss, his hands tightening in the fabric of your shirt. Your kisses were now laced in a fiery desperation, his hips arching to seek more. You kissed across his jaw, brushing your lips against his ear as you breathlessly asked, “Is this okay?”

His hands gripped your hips as his head fell back, exposing his neck for your attention. His breaths were strained, his hips shifting beneath you as he nodded, “Yes. More than okay. Please, keep going.”

You grinned, taking the hint and kissing a slow trail down the side of his neck. Every time your lips brushed a sensitive spot that made him shiver, you took the time to suck a deep purple mark into the pale skin. You soothed the areas with your tongue before continuing your descent.

Sam shivered and mewled, unable to control the soft noises leaving his lips. His skin felt like it was on fire, in the best way possible. His stomach tightened with the arousing thrill of being claimed by you, his neck now a tapestry of your affection.

His hands slid under your shirt, his fingers working the fabric upward as his eyes met yours in a silent question of permission.

You pulled back and tugged your shirt over your head, tossing it to the side before discarding your bra as well. You leaned back over him, grinning at the way his eyes locked onto your chest with boyish excitement.

“Have you ever done this before?” you asked, making his eyes snap back up to yours.

“No,” he answered, his cheeks tinging a soft pink. “At least, not like this. Not when it’s mattered.”

A flicker of his haunted past flashed through his eyes, but quickly melted away when you kissed his forehead.

“We can take it slow,” you reassured him. “I’ll guide you through it. You can tell me what you like and don’t like, okay?”

Sam nodded, feeling the anxiety dissipating as he gazed up at you. He lifted his arms, letting you pull off his shirt. You grinned at the sight of the hickeys marking his skin, tracing your finger over them. He squirmed beneath you, a soft whimper sounding in his throat.

“Don’t worry, Sammy,” you murmured, kissing his chest. “You’ll get what you want. We’ve got all night. There’s no need to rush.”

Sam’s eyes fluttered shut, the reassurance that this wasn’t fleeting sedating his restlessness. His heart pounded beneath your wandering lips, his muscles tensing as you played with the button on his jeans.

“Please,” he breathed, his voice a needy whisper. “Take them off.”

You didn’t hesitate to comply, hooking your fingers beneath the waistbands of his jeans and boxers before pulling them down his legs. You gasped softly as his erection sprang free, licking your lips as you admired him.

“You’re so pretty, Sammy,” you praised, wrapping your hand around his length to slowly stroke him. “So, so pretty.”

His face warmed with a deep blush at your praise, a bead of pearly white leaking from his rosy tip. He let out a shaky moan, muttering a quiet, “Oh, fuck.”

You smiled and cooed, “That’s it, Sammy. Just relax and let me make you feel good.”

You leaned down to press your lips against his tip, flicking your tongue around it to taste his arousal. Sam gasped, arching his back as his stomach clenched.

“A-ah,” Sam whimpered, gripping the sheets beneath him. “Please…”

You took him into your mouth as far as you could, feeling him brush against the back of your throat as you bobbed your head. Pretty mewls sounded from him as his legs moved restlessly. His chest heaved with exertion, his skin flushed a debauched red.

He whispered your name, his hips bucking involuntarily as he gasped, “I think…I’m getting close. Fuck.”

You pulled your mouth off of him, giving his tip one last soft kiss before trailing your lips back up his body. He let out a whine of protest, lifting his hips to try and chase your mouth.

You sat back and undid the button on your pants, removing the last bit of clothing that separated you before straddling him again. Sam’s eyes trailed over your body, his cock twitching at the mere sight of you.

“I wanted us to finish together, with you inside of me,” you told him, feeling the arousal dripping on your thighs. “Is that what you want?”

Sam nodded eagerly, moaning at the thought of being inside of you. “Yes, please,” he panted. “That’s what I want more than anything.”

His hands wandered over the curves of your body as you lined him up with your entrance. You slowly sank down onto him until you sat flesh against his hips. A sigh of pleasure left your lips as you felt him stretch you out, the delicious burn making you clench around him.

Your lips found Sam’s again as you began to ride him, lifting your hips to drop them back down. You both moaned into each other’s mouths, the scant space between you a mix of heat and desperation. You grabbed Sam’s hands, guiding them up to your chest.

“Touch me, Sam,” you breathed. “It’s okay. I want you to.”

Sam didn’t waste a second of the permission. His hands palmed your breasts, softly kneading them as he groaned. They felt perfect in his hands, his thumbs teasing the stiff peaks of your nipples.

You bit down on your lip, letting out a soft whimper as you moved your hips. Heat pooled low in your belly with each stroke of his cock inside of you.

As you both neared your peaks, Sam sat up and held you close to him. He thrusted his hips up in time with your movements, gazing up at you with pure adoration.

“Tell me you want me,” Sam whispered through shaky breaths, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I want you,” you breathed, feeling that knot beginning to unravel. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, Sam. Your pretty eyes, and your sweet smile, and your adorable laugh, and…and…Sam!”

With a cry of his name, you came undone above him. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you as you squeezed around his cock. Sam followed immediately after, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he moaned out your name.

You rode out your highs together, clinging to one another through the haze of pleasure. When you both came down, your skin was glistening with sweat as your hearts pounded in time.

Sam gazed up at you with a disbelieving, blissed out grin. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

“You mean everything to me,” he whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Thank you for giving me a chance to prove it to you.”

You shook your head, resting your forehead against his. “You don’t have to prove a thing, Sam I Am. My heart is already yours.”

Later that night, as Sam slept in your arms, you couldn’t help but admire him. Your fingers traced the delicate lines of his face before trailing down to his chest.

You noticed a few freckles above his heart, seemingly making out the shape of a star. You connected each dot with your finger, smiling softly.

That was your new favorite constellation.

#smut #fanfiction #hayden christensen smut #smutrequests #imagine #one shot #sam monroe #sam monroe smut #sam monroe fanfiction #sam monroe imagine #sam monroe x reader

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ceoofsammonroe · 7 months ago

Note

I love the cherry story so much!! You’re hella talented :))

thank you so much. 🥺 i swear i am not forgetting about that story, i am trying to get better at implementing a writing schedule for you guys!!

#fillery yaps

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ceoofsammonroe · 7 months ago

Note

Hey! How are you? I was wondering if you’re open for requests about Sam monroe smut :)

i am always down for anyone to fill my inbox with any and all things sam monroe!! i am so behind on requests (and everything else, tbh) but i keep them all stockpiled and will get to them! send as many as you’d like! :)

#fillery yaps #smutrequests

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ceoofsammonroe · 7 months ago

Note

None of the links on your masterlist work

thank you, sweet anon, for bringing this to my attention! i believe they should all be working again, fingers crossed.

#fillery yaps

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ceoofsammonroe · 7 months ago

Text

What We Do In The Shadows - James Kelly Smut

Summary: You meet James at a club that your friends had dragged you to and you both find what you’ve been looking for, hidden in the depth of the shadows.

Warnings: unprotected sex, penetrative sex, public sex, reader and James get freaky in a dark corner of a club, exhibitionism, handjob (James receiving), fingering (reader receiving), grinding, alcohol consumption, drink sharing, use of pet names (doll, baby, etc.), teasing, begging, mentions of smoking, as always James is a constant yapper.

Masterlist

The low thumping of a gritty bass vibrated through your body as you idly sipped on the remnants of your drink.

Your friends danced around you, laughing and jumping beneath the haze of fog and strobe lighting. You swayed along with them, trying to match their energy but not quite hitting the mark.

They had dragged you out to this club after staging a makeshift intervention about how you were supposedly turning into a hermit. They swore that you were far too young and hot to be spending every night hulled away in your home and insisted you come out with them tonight to let loose and ‘get some’.

You’d begrudgingly agreed and went with them on the pretense that you’d just be hanging out and not searching for any random hookup. However, now that you were here, you found yourself scanning the dark room for anyone that would catch your attention.

It was pointless, though. Every face you saw looked just like the repetitive boring supply that drove you to reclusiveness in the first place.

It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in having some fun. It was just that nothing seemed to spark your interest. Every guy felt the same, forcing you into a monotonous rhythm that was unfulfilling and unsatisfying.

You wanted something that would excite you, that would make you feel alive again, but that conquest was growing more and more hopeless with every passing moment.

James had a headache.

The pounding of the overly loud music was hammering against his skull and the too bright flashes of lights in the otherwise dark room were disorienting.

God, he was getting old.

He took a swig of his beer, rubbing his thumb against the drops of condensation on the glass bottle.

His coworker, Adam, had tricked him into coming out tonight — much to James’ disdain. This was not his usual scene. In fact, his usual scene was relaxing on his couch in the comfort of his own home.

“You could at least pretend to be having fun,” Adam sighed, giving him a pointed look.

“You said we were goin’ out for drinks,” James retorted, leaning against the small table they were standing beside.

“Are we not drinking?” Adam asked, gesturing to the beers they each had in their hands.

James rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he said, “I thought we were goin’ to a bar. Somewhere we could watch the game or somethin’. Not some place this…chaotic.”

“Look, man, someone had to drag you out of that cave you’re always hiding in,” Adam shrugged, taking another drink of his beer. “You need to go out, see people. You need friends.”

“I have friends…” James scoffed, though even he didn’t sound convinced. “I mean, we’re friends.”

“We’re work friends,” Adam corrected him. “That doesn’t count. Besides, dude, you gotta get laid. When was the last time you got any?”

James felt his cheeks warm at the question and he didn’t feel particularly inclined to answer. Instead, he raised his empty bottle and said, “I’m gonna go get another drink.”

He weaved through the sweaty crowd, grimacing to himself as he made his way to the bar. He rubbed his temples as he waited for another beer, thanking the bartender once he was given a fresh bottle.

His eyes scanned the crowd briefly, looking for anyone that might pique his interest before he shook his head with a sigh.

Truthfully, James really hadn’t gotten any in a long time. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be getting laid — he was a man, after all — or that women weren’t interested in him. He’d had plenty of girls show him interest, it just all seemed like too much work.

He didn’t understand why there were so many steps nowadays to gauge whether or not you even wanted to pursue something with someone. Maybe it was old fashioned, but James missed the feeling of just connecting with someone.

He let out a huff, taking a swig of his drink and turning to go back and tell Adam he was going to go home.

He stopped in his tracks when his eyes landed on someone across the room.

You felt his eyes on you before you saw him.

The ruggedly handsome man at the bar looked somewhat startled when your gaze locked with his, but he didn’t break the eye contact. Instead, he tilted his head to the side as his lips pulled up in an intrigued smile.

Something about the way he was looking at you ignited a spark in your chest that you hadn’t felt in a long time. You noticed yourself swaying to the music a little more sensually, relishing in the way his eyes slowly trailed up and down your body, appreciatively.

You looked away from him momentarily, turning to your friends as you said, “I’m gonna go grab a drink.”

You made your way through the crowd, watching his grin widen as he raised his bottle to his lips. He looked at you expectantly as you approached him, seemingly waiting for you to make the first move.

With a smirk, you turned away from him and faced the bar like you’d only walked over to order a drink. He nodded, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he let out a deep chuckle.

He leaned in closer to you, his lips hovering near your ear as he said, “If the goal is to get me beggin’ for your attention…it’s workin’.”

You glanced over at him with a raised brow, making a show of giving him a scrutinizing once over.

“Oh, sorry,” you said, grinning up at him, “didn’t see you there.”

“Right, right…” he drawled, biting back an amused smile. “Well, since I’ve got you here now, I’m James.” He waited, eyebrows raised as silence passed between you. “Are you gonna tell me your name, or…?”

“You haven’t earned my name yet, James,” you told him, leaning against the bar with a tilt of your head. “Although, that begging you mentioned earlier might give you an advantage.”

James breathed out a laugh, shaking his head as his eyes sparkled with interest. He focused on your face, narrowing his gaze as if he was trying to figure you out.

“Can I at least buy you a drink?” James asked, gesturing to the bar.

You looked down at the beer in his hand, smirking as you took it from him and said, “This one will do, thanks.”

James blinked as his mouth opened and closed, caught off guard by your boldness. His attention was quickly redirected to the way your lips wrapped around the bottle as you downed the rest of the drink. He fought back a groan as you licked the remaining droplets from your lips, slamming the empty bottle on the counter and taking a step closer to him.

You trailed your fingers down his arm before grabbing his hand, pulling him with you as you said, “Dance with me, James.”

James wasn’t a dancer — never had been — but, as you asked him to dance, he couldn’t possibly refuse. He felt entranced, like you’d bewitched him somehow and trapped him under your spell. He didn’t have a single complaint about it, though.

He followed you out to the dance floor, his eyes never once leaving yours. There was a growing tension between you, a heated tether that was pulling you closer together.

As you melded in with the crowd of moving bodies, you gripped the front of James’ shirt and pulled him into you. His hands gripped your hips as he glanced around at the rest of the crowd before looking back down at you, a sheepish grin on his face.

“I don’t really know what I’m doin’ out here, doll,” he said, though he made no move to leave. His thumb rubbed the fabric of your dress as he leaned down closer and asked, “You gonna show me?”

“Yeah, I’ll show you,” you smirked, reaching up to trace your fingers over his brow. “Close your eyes.”

James’ eyes fluttered shut as he released a shaky breath, waiting eagerly for your next move.

You ran your fingers along the edges of his ears as you said, “Listen to the sound of the music. Focus on it. Block out all the other chatter.” James shivered, but did as you said. You moved your touch down the sides of his neck, placing your hands flat on his chest. “Feel the pulsing of the bass inside of you, like a heartbeat. Let it meld with your own.” James all but groaned at the feeling of your soft hands rubbing against his chest, but he focused on the task at hand. He honed in on the deep vibrations, unable to tell where his heartbeat ended and the bass began. You wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tip-toes to whisper in his ear. “Now, feel the person in your arms. Feel how my body molds against yours. Move with it, with the music.”

James’ breath hitched as you placed a soft kiss beneath his ear. His eyes opened, blown pupils staring down at you with a mix of desire and curiosity.

Slowly, you began to move with the music. His body moved in time with yours as his hands slid around to your lower back, pressing you closer against him.

His body felt firm against your own, the faint scent of smoke and cedar swirling around you. His touch was surprisingly gentle, almost as if he was afraid he’d break you. He quickly fell into the rhythm, letting himself go as the heat built between you.

“See? You’re a natural,” you grinned, swaying your hips to the rhythm.

“It helps havin’ a hot teacher,” James smirked, leaning down until his face was a few inches from yours. “Although, it kinda makes a guy wanna misbehave.”

The friction of your bodies was tantalizing, wrapping you both in a haze that had nothing to do with the fog and smoke in the air.

James’ gaze flickered down to your lips as his tongue darted out to wet his own. He leaned in, slowly, and you could feel your body humming with anticipation. He let his lips just barely brush against yours before he gripped your hips and turned you around, pressing your back against his chest.

Your breath caught in your throat as he wrapped his arms around your waist, brushing his lips against your ear.

“Do you feel what you’re doin’ to me, doll?” James breathed, pressing his hips against your ass to let you feel the growing hardness beneath his jeans. “You’ve got me hypnotized.”

You bit your lip as he nipped at your earlobe, feeling scatters of goosebumps erupt along your skin. His breath fanned against your neck as he trailed soft kisses down to your shoulder.

“Maybe that was my plan all along,” you quipped, reaching back to tangle your fingers in his hair. It was softer than you’d expected, feeling silky to the touch. “To seduce you and lure you into my clutches.”

You danced to the music, intentionally grinding your ass back against him. James groaned in your neck, gripping your hips as he rocked into you.

“Fuck, baby,” he cursed, feeling desire burning through him like a wildfire. “You won’t hear me complainin’.”

James’ cock pulsed in time with his heart, nestled against the curve of your ass. He had to fight the urge to rip your dress off and fuck you right there — in the middle of the dance floor. He hadn’t felt this kind of raw need in a very long time and he was quickly losing his resolve.

Everywhere James touched felt electric as his hands roamed across the fabric of your dress. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had chemistry this natural with someone. It was like your bodies had known each other for a lifetime, and god did they want to reunite.

You tightened your fist in his hair as he grazed his teeth along your shoulder, using your free hand to guide one of his down your thigh.

He caught the hint, chuckling against your ear as he gripped the plush flesh. He let his hand disappear beneath the skirt of your dress, softly trailing his fingertips up and down the inside of your thigh.

Your skin felt hot beneath his teasing touch, flushed and glistening with sweat. There was a tightness growing in your lower belly, nearly making you forget where you were. Your head leaned back against his shoulder as your eyes fluttered shut, the pounding of your heart nearly drowning out the music.

James could feel the heat of your desire between your thighs and his mind was filled with thoughts of touching you, feeling you, tasting you. He noticed how your breathing quickened and the subtle way you parted your legs, and he couldn’t resist moving his hand a little higher to brush against the damp fabric of your panties.

Your eyes shot open as you gasped, tugging sharply on his hair. His touch was fleeting, teasing you before moving down your other thigh.

You turned back around to face him, your knees nearly buckling beneath the look of want in his eyes.

“That’s awfully bold,” you said, sounding as breathless as you felt. “Copping a feel of a stranger in a crowded club.”

He gripped your chin, tilting your head back and pulling your face close to his as he whispered, “Wanna see what else I can do in a crowded club?”

He trailed his thumb along your bottom lip, pulling it down as he leaned forward and took it between his teeth. You inhaled a sharp breath, peering up at him through your lashes. He raised an eyebrow, waiting on your answer.

You nodded at him, too dizzy with need to form a verbal response. His lips spread into a primal grin as he led you through the crowd. You followed him toward the dark corner where the shadows could hide your secrets. Finding an alcove, he spun you around and pressed your back against the wall.

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as you gripped the front of his shirt, gazing up at him. His mouth turned up in a smug smirk as he leaned in to trail soft kisses along your jaw.

“Where’d that chatty personality go, hm?” James teased, his breath hot against your ear. “You were such a smooth talker, doll, what happened? Cat got your tongue?”

Your face flushed at his teasing, but you couldn’t find the words to argue your case. Instead, you grabbed his face and captured his lips in a hungry kiss.

James groaned, pressing you harder against the wall as his lips devoured yours. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you licked into his mouth. He hummed in approval as you tugged on the strands, rocking his hips against yours.

Your eyes shot open with a gasp as you felt his hand snake beneath your dress, teasing you over your panties with his fingertips.

He stared down at you through hooded eyes, breathing heavily as he watched you squirm against his touch. He grinned, wickedly, as he felt the fabric dampen even more with his soft touch.

“What’s got you so wet, baby?” James taunted, playfully, nipping at your bottom lip. He dropped his voice to a husky whisper as he said, “Gettin’ all hot ‘n bothered hidin’ in the shadows like this?”

You released a shaky breath as he kissed down your neck, sucking softly against your pulse point. He slowly started sinking to his knees, gazing up at you as he trailed his lips down the fabric of your dress.

“James, someone might see,” you whispered, feeling your heart race as you warred between watching him and glancing around to make sure nobody was looking.

He looked up at you with a smirk as he reached under your dress, slowly peeling your panties down your legs.

“Let ‘em watch,” he shrugged, stuffing the garment in his back pocket as he stood up again.

He grabbed the back of your thigh, hooking your leg around his waist to open you up for him. He kissed you, slowly and deeply, as he pressed you back against the wall and shielded your body.

“Relax, doll,” he murmured, moving to kiss your neck. “Nobody can tell what’s happenin’, even if they do look this way. Besides, they’re all too drunk to care.”

A soft moan escaped your lips as he began to circle your clit. The callouses on his fingers made for a delicious friction, building the ache that was growing in your belly.

“Fuck,” you breathed, gripping onto his shoulders for support. You leaned your head back against the wall, giving his mouth better access. “That feels so good.”

James chuckled against your neck, his warm breath making you shiver.

“Yeah? Feels good?” James asked, lifting his head back up to look at you. “What about this?” You gasped as James eased a finger inside of you, stretching you out before adding a second one. James grinned, curling his fingers. “Does that feel good?”

A soft mewling sound resonated in your throat as you fisted the fabric of his shirt. He was watching you with rapt attention, taking in every little reaction he was pulling out of you. His thumb circled your clit as two of his fingers pumped inside of you, curling against that spot that made you see stars. He was working your body with expert precision, like he’d unraveled you time and time before.

“Yeah, feels good,” you panted, trying to get ahold of yourself. His touch was making you dizzy, filling you with an untamed desire. “I can’t let you do all the work, though.”

James raised an eyebrow as you spoke, rubbing your hands down his chest. You smirked up at him, undoing the button of his jeans. His eyes grew darker as a groan escaped his lips, his hips bucking forward instinctively. He chewed on his lip as you slowly undid the zipper, letting your finger trail down the bulge in his boxers.

“Fuck, doll,” he hissed, his cock twitching in his boxers. “You wanna touch me? Wanna wrap those soft hands around me, make me feel good?”

You nodded, dipping your hand past the waistband to wrap your fingers around his cock. You began to slowly stroke him, making a deep groan sound in his throat. He was already slick with pre-cum, his length throbbing in your hand.

“Good thing I decided not to wait any longer,” you purred, squeezing him tighter. “Feels like you were about to explode any second there.”

“Shit, baby,” he moaned, thrusting into your fist. “You have no idea. Coulda came just from touchin’ you, from feelin’ you squeezin’ my fingers all tight.”

His fingers were still pumping in and out of you, coaxing you closer to the edge. You used your free hand to push the front of his boxers down, exposing his cock to the thick air between your bodies.

Your hand looked small around it as you twisted your fist over him. You clenched around his fingers just at the sight of him, almost drooling at his size.

A cocky smirk pulled at James’ lips as he said, “Like what you see, baby? Thinkin’ about how good it would feel buried in that tight little pussy of yours?”

Your eyes fluttered as you whimpered, dripping onto his hand. He pulled his fingers out of you, earning a whine of protest as your walls clenched around the sudden emptiness. His eyes glimmered with lust as he brought his fingers up to his lips, sucking them clean.

“Mm,” he moaned, breathing deeply. “You taste so good, doll. So fuckin’ sweet. I wanna bury my face between your thighs until you’re screamin’ my name…but we can’t risk that.”

You wanted to tell him to risk it all, not caring if anyone saw, but you knew you couldn’t. Still, it didn’t stop your body from trembling at the thought.

Instead, you gripped the back of his head and pulled his lips back onto yours. You moaned into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue.

His kiss was desperate and hungry, matching the boiling heat inside of you. He replaced your hand on his cock as he kissed you, rubbing the damp tip against your swollen clit.

“Ah,” you gasped, instantly rocking your hips forward.

James tilted his head to the side, grinning as he said, “Oh, that’s what you want, huh? You want me to fuck you? Want me to fill you up so full that nobody else will ever feel as good?”

“Yes,” you moaned, gripping his shirt as you swallowed thickly. “I want you to fuck me. I’ve wanted you to since I saw you by the bar.”

“Are you sure, doll?” James asked, taunting you. He teased his tip around your entrance, nudging forward without actually pushing inside of you. “I can stop if I need to…”

“I’m sure! I’m sure, just…please, fuck me, James,” you begged, desperately tugging at his hips to try and make him move forward.

“Eager baby,” James cooed, chuckling lowly. “I’ve got you, doll, don’t worry. Gonna make you feel so good, I swear.”

He eased his hips forward, slowly sinking into you. Once he was buried to the hilt, feeling you snugly wrapped around him, he let out a shaky moan.

“Oh my god…” you breathed, letting out soft sounds of pleasure as you clung to him. He was stretching you out in a way that made your knees buckle. “Please, move. Fuck me.”

“Gladly, baby,” he said, wasting no time in setting a steady pace.

His hips snapped against yours, thrusting into you relentlessly as your eyes rolled back. Your toes curled as you clutched his shirt tightly, unable to stop the lewd strings of moans and whines spilling from your lips.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, doll,” he groaned, leaning his forehead against yours. “Nice ‘n wet, too. God, you’re fuckin’ soaked. All for me, hm?”

“James,” you mewled, digging your nails into his shoulders.

Every thrust was angled perfectly, like his cock was made to fit inside of you. He cradled the back of your head to keep it from hitting the hard wall, a gentle gesture in contrast to the way he was fucking you. He hiked your leg up higher, pushing in deeper as you let out a loud moan.

“Oh, god,” you whined, scrunching up your eyebrows. “Don’t stop. Fuck, just like that.”

“Shh, baby,” James whispered, kissing you softly as he grinned. “We can’t have you drawin’ everyone’s attention, can we?”

You bit down on your lip to keep quiet, suddenly reminded of the fact that you were still in public. A thrill coursed through you, making you clench around him as your heart pounded.

“Oh, you like that, doll?” James asked, brushing his lips against your ear. “You like knowin’ that I’m fuckin’ you right here where anyone could see us?”

You gasped, nodding your head as you whispered, “Yes.”

He nipped at your earlobe, bringing his hand down to rub fast circles against your clit as he thrust into you.

“Such a dirty girl,” he purred, licking the shell of your ear. “Gettin’ off on the risk of bein’ caught with a stranger’s cock buried deep inside you? Shoulda just bent you over the bar n’ fucked you right there like I wanted to.”

Your lips parted in a silent cry as you panted, feeling a rush of heat through your bloodstream as you lost the rest of your resolve.

“I’m gonna come,” you breathed, moving your hips to meet his thrusts. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“Come for me, doll,” he groaned, snapping his hips harder against yours. “Wanna feel you squeezin’ my cock, milkin’ it dry.”

White hot pleasure washed over you in waves as you came around him. James fucked you through it, kissing you roughly to swallow down your moans. His hips stuttered as he followed after you, biting down on your lip as his release spilled inside of you.

James’ thrusts slowed to a stop as the both of you came down. He kissed your temple, breathing heavily as he tried to regain his composure.

You gazed up at him through slightly blurred vision, taking in the deep blue of his eyes and the bright flush of his cheeks. He reached a gentle hand up to brush back the hair that had clung to your forehead as he leaned in to kiss you softly.

You melted against his lips, drowning in his kiss.

He eased out of you, holding you steady as he helped you fix your dress. You could feel him dripping down your thighs, causing a heat to creep up your neck.

Glancing over his shoulder, you spotted your friends searching for you by the bar. You let out a shaky breath, looking back up at James with a sheepish smile.

“I gotta get going,” you told him, placing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for the dance.”

James begrudgingly let you go, his eyes following you with longing as you walked away from him. His heart was still racing, completely captivated by you.

When you rejoined your friends, they all gave you curious looks and immediately questioned your whereabouts. You rolled your eyes and laughed, walking toward the door as they pestered you relentlessly for answers.

As you stepped outside, the cool air felt nice against your flushed skin. The gentle breeze did, however, remind you of your current lack of underwear — thanks to a certain thief.

Before you could walk toward the car waiting for you, you felt a hand on your arm. You turned around to see James, grinning as he held out a cigarette toward you.

You quirked a brow, shaking your head as you said, “I don’t smoke.”

“It wasn’t intended for you to smoke,” he shrugged, handing it to you anyways.

You glanced down at it, seeing that he’d scrawled his number on the side of it.

He leaned in to your ear and whispered, “Call me ‘n tell me if I earned your name.”

He smirked as he pulled back, giving you a wink before disappearing back into the dark club.

You bit your lip to conceal your grin as you turned back to your friends, meeting their shocked and thrilled faces.

You spent the entire car ride back filling them in on every detail, listening to their squeals and gasps of excitement.

It was safe to say that you’d found the thing you hadn’t even realized you’d been looking for and, as you clutched the unlit cigarette in your hand, you couldn’t wait to see him again.

#smut #fanfiction #hayden christensen smut #smutrequests #james kelly x reader #james kelly #james kelly smut #james kelly x you #one shot #imagine #american heist

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ceoofsammonroe · 9 months ago

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HE STRAIGHT UP RUBBED MY BACK FOR THE ENTIRE PHOTO

just met hayden for the first of many meetings we will have this weekend and HE IS WEARING SAM COLORS THIS WAS A PERSONAL ATTACK TO ME AND WE WERE MATCHING AND HE LOOKED INTO MY SOUL AND RUBBED MY BACK

like it’s fine

#fillery yaps #hayden christensen

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ceoofsammonroe · 9 months ago

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AND IT JUST KEEPS GOING

I WAS LITERALLY WEAK IN THE FUCKING KNEES LIKE

like it’s fine

#fillery yaps #hayden christensen

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ceoofsammonroe · 9 months ago

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like it’s fine

#fillery yaps #hayden christensen #sam monroe

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ceoofsammonroe · 9 months ago

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PLEASE UPDATE FOR THE CHERRY STORY IM ACTUALLY IN LOVEEEE WITH IT it’s seriously the best story i’ve ever read in the longest time possible, u should actually become an author

this is the sweetest thing ever, thank you so much. 😭 im so happy so many of you love this story. i promise it will be updated, i have not forgotten. i just am in florida where we’ve been hit with two back to back major hurricanes, so it’s taking me a bit to catch up. thank you guys again for all your support, it means everything to me. 😭🫶🏻

#fillery yaps

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ceoofsammonroe · 9 months ago

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Wake the Dead - Sam Monroe Smut

Summary: You meet Sam during his shift at the local video store on a search for something to make you feel alive and decide to drag him to the old cemetery.

Warnings: sexual acts in an open grave, mentions of murder, talk of the dead, handjob (Sam receiving), public sex, fingering (reader receiving), defiling a gravesite, smoking, reader is kinda “manic-pixie-dreamgirl” coded my bad.

Masterlist

Sam Monroe hated his job.

Well, okay, maybe it wasn’t the worst in the world. He could’ve been made to wear a ridiculous uniform and flip burgers at the local diner down the street. Still, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be restocking the same ten family movies all day every day.

Nobody ever came into the video store for anything interesting. It was always middle-aged moms with their whiny children, asking him where some shit Disney film was located while giving him disapproving glares.

Sure, maybe he always had vulgar music blaring through the speakers while some gory slasher played on the television, but what did they expect? He’d drive a stake through his own eye before he’d be forced to listen to some nonsensical bullshit about princesses and happily ever after.

The new Deftones record was his current pick, the music filling the silence of the vacant store as he leaned against the counter and sorted through the returns.

The excruciating sound of the bell above the door chimed through the grunge rock, making Sam cringe and curse underneath his breath. He didn’t even bother turning around as he mumbled, “We’re closing in five minutes.”

“Guess I’d better get to looking quickly, then,” you said, shrugging and smiling to yourself at the grumpy store clerk. You could only see the back of him, but he piqued your interest.

The sound of your melodic voice made Sam’s ears perk up and he finally turned around. His eyes widened a bit at the sight of you, not expecting to see someone his age. Especially not someone so pretty.

Your eyes traveled over the length of him as he turned to face you. He was cute — in that “I’m a total punk” kind of way.

Sam’s throat felt scratchy as he swallowed, his tongue fiddling with his labret piercing. He quickly turned down the music, giving you a sheepish half-smile.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably as a flush creeped up his neck and said, “Yeah, I guess so. I can help you search for something. We have a pretty big selection, though, so you might have to narrow it down a bit.”

His eyes scanned the length of you, hoping against hope that you wouldn’t ask him for the romance section or something equally as disgusting. He knew you’d never been in this store before, at least not when he’d been working. He definitely would’ve remembered you.

“I’m looking for a good scare,” you said, hooking your thumbs through your belt loops as you grinned at him. “Something to really get your pulse racing, ya know?”

Sam’s eyes lit up with excitement as he beamed at you. You were hot and into horror? He nearly came in his pants right then and there.

“Well, the horror section is right over there,” he said, pointing over to the corner. “You like found footage? I’d recommend that if you wanna get a decent scare. Unscripted, unedited, pretty terrifying.”

“Ah, so you’re a Blair Witch kinda guy, huh?” you asked, your lips quirking up in amusement. “Good to know.”

Sam’s grin grew as he nodded and said, “The Blair Witch Project was groundbreaking for its genre. It really had the entire population convinced that they were watching these kids die right in front of their eyes.” He leaned forward against the counter, trying to play it cool as he added, “I’m Sam, by the way. Sam Monroe.”

“Nice to meet you, Sam Monroe,” you grinned, repeating his full name.

You couldn’t help but notice the soft blush on his face that brought out the bright blue of his eyes. The color nearly matched the vibrant streak in his black hair. He had the whole look going for him — the eyeshadow, the painted nails, the clunky rings.

Sam felt flustered under your gaze, shifting nervously as he asked, “So, you got a favorite horror flick, or is this your first time diving into the abyss?”

You smirked and said, “Ironically, considering your whole ‘what’s your favorite scary movie’ question, I’m a sucker for a good slasher. Scream, to be exact.”

“Scream, huh? Classic. You’ve got good taste,” he said, raising an impressed brow. He pushed off the counter, walking around to stand next to you. “Let me show you some of my favorites, then.” He walked toward the horror section, gesturing for you to follow. “You’ve got your classics like Nightmare on Elm Street and Halloween. Oh, but one of my favorites would have to be Saw. There’s something about the torture and games that just gets me.”

Sam’s hands gestured wildly as he spoke, his excitement evident in his eyes. His heart raced, both from his love of horror and from being so close to you. He searched one of the shelves before deftly flicking one of the cases out and holding it up for you.

“The original Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” he said, presenting it to you. “This one’s something else. Give it a watch. It’ll make your skin crawl.”

You stuffed your hands in your back pockets, shrugging coyly as you stepped closer to him.

“I saw the 25th Anniversary in theaters,” you smirked, beaming proudly.

Sam’s eyes widened and he whistled, impressed.

“Damn, you’re a true horror fan,” he nodded.

He nervously licked his dry lips, trying to think of something to say next.

“So, what do you think? Are you gonna pick up any of these tonight, or should I recommend something else?” Sam asked, his eyes searching your face as he hoped to find interest in his suggestions.

You leaned closer toward him, glancing down at his lips before grinning and reaching around him to grab a movie from the shelf.

Sam’s breath hitched, his eyes flickering down to your lips before following your gaze to the movie you pulled.

You held up a copy of Creep, waving it back and forth.

“Found footage, right?” you winked, turning around to walk back to the counter.

“Found footage, exactly,” he croaked out, releasing a shaky breath. “Good choice.”

He quickly followed after you, going back around the counter to ring you up. His fingers fumbled clumsily on the keyboard as he said, “Your total comes out to $4.50.” He took the money and handed you the bag with the movie inside. “If, uh, if you ever need more recommendations or anything, just let me know. I’ll be around.” He licked his lips, giving you a small smile as he added, “It was nice meeting you.”

You took the bag from him, letting your fingers brush against his as you did. You nodded with a smile and said, “You, too, Sam Monroe.”

You turned around and began walking toward the door, but you stopped short. You shifted back toward him, gazing at him curiously.

You cocked your head and asked, “You wanna get out of here?”

Sam’s eyes widened as his throat went dry. He nodded, vehemently, and said, “Uh, yeah. Sure.” He glanced up at the clock, grinning sheepishly. “We’re technically closed now, anyways.” His grin grew as he stepped away from the counter. “Just give me a second to lock everything up.”

You nodded and walked outside, leaning against the hood of his car as you lit a cigarette. You took a drag and exhaled the smoke into the air, leaning your head back with a sigh.

Sam quickly locked up, the bell above the door jingling as he stepped outside. He caught the sight of you sitting on the hood of his car, cigarette in hand, and thought he must be dreaming.

He walked over, his gaze drawn to your lips as he asked, “You smoke?”

You opened your eyes, gazing up at him as you blew a puff of smoke in his direction.

“No,” you grinned, bringing the cigarette back to your lips to take another drag.

Sam’s lips curved into a grin and he raised a brow as he said, “Liar.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing your face as he took the cigarette from your lips. He brought it to his mouth, taking a long drag before exhaling and handing it back.

“So, what do you want to do?” Sam asked, moving to lean on the hood next to you. “I know a few bars that are still open.”

“Bars are boring, Sam Monroe,” you groaned, dramatically, throwing your head back. You inhaled the smoke again, releasing it in a sigh as you looked up at the full moon. “Why do you think I showed up here tonight?”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head in confusion as he answered, “Because you wanted to rent a horror movie?”

He took another drag from the cigarette, his curious gaze never leaving your face.

“That’s just the surface of it,” you told him, turning your head to face him. “I wanted something that could make me feel alive. I wanted to feel a spike of adrenaline, to get my pulse racing. A horror movie is a quick, easy fix — but a night of spontaneity with a stranger? That’s the ultimate risk to take.”

Sam’s heart thudded in his chest, his mind racing as he stammered, “Y-you want to take a risk with me?” He swallowed, the cigarette forgotten between his fingers. “Where do you want to go?”

His eyes searched yours, trying to gauge your intentions, but the excitement bubbling within him was undeniable.

You grinned, taking the cigarette back from him and drawing in one final breath before putting it out with your foot against the pavement.

“C’mon, Sam Monroe,” you said, grabbing his keys out of his hand and walking to the driver’s side of his car. “I know just the place.”

Sam blinked in a daze as he watched you get into his car. He walked, dumbfounded, to the passenger seat, climbing in as he gazed at you.

“Lead the way,” he said, shrugging as he shook his head with a small laugh.

You flicked on the radio as you pulled out of the parking lot, a low grungy melody playing through the speakers.

“Tell me, Sam Monroe,” you began, reaching over to play with the rings on his fingers, “why do you like horror movies?”

Sam’s breath hitched and he glanced down at his hand. Your fingers felt soft against his skin and he cleared his throat as he glanced back up at the road.

“Horror movies are about more than just gore and jump scares. They’re about the human condition. They’re about fear itself, a primal state, and there’s something so raw and real about that.” He looked over at you a smile tugging at his lips. “The adrenaline, the suspense, the sense of danger…it’s all just an escape for me. A way to feel something real when everything else around me feels so fake.”

“Spoken like a tried and true broody punk,” you grinned, glancing over at him. “I get it, though. Sometimes you’ll do anything just to feel something.”

“I guess so,” he shrugged. “It’s better than feeling nothing, right?” He leaned back in his seat, watching the passing streetlights. “So, what about you? What gets your heart racing?”

“Picking up random strangers from sketchy video stores, obviously,” you joked, trailing your fingers up and down his arm.

Sam smiled, looking away as a blush tinged his cheeks.

“This place you’re taking me to,” he said, glancing back at you, “is it a secret or can I know where we’re going?”

“See for yourself,” you smirked, pulling off the road and parking the car. You turned the lights off and got out, walking around to where Sam stood by the passenger side. “C’mon, this way.”

You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers through his as you led him through a small trail in the woods. As you walked through the clearing, a grin pulled at your lips at the sight of an old, dark cemetery.

Sam followed, his heart pounding as his eyes darted around the darkness. He swallowed thickly, squeezing your hand a little tighter as he stared up at the rusted gates, warily.

“A cemetery?” Sam questioned, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a deep breath before steeling himself and nodding. “Alright. I’ve never been one to turn down a dare.”

“That’s the spirit,” you grinned, tugging him further inside. You winked at him, pulling him closer to you as you whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the scary ghosts.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sam smirked, feeling his heart stutter as he was pulled into you. “So, what do we do in a place like this?”

His eyes took in the graves, the headstones, the darkness encompassing you. He couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine as he leaned closer to you, seeking comfort.

You pulled out a small flashlight and turned it on, shining it on the headstones. You saw one that called to you and you drug him towards it, reading the engravings.

Sam followed, his eyes drawn to the flashlight beam. When you stopped at the grave, he crouched down to get a better look.

Mary Hester

1934-1976

“What do you think her story was?” you asked Sam, nudging his shoulder.

“Who knows?” Sam shrugged. “Maybe she was a victim of murder. Or maybe she was the killer,” he mused, a grin playing at his lips. He glanced up at you and asked, “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you smirked, leaning forward to dust off the stone. “There’s no way that death is just a done deal, especially if you had unresolved dealings left on earth.”

Sam nodded, listening as he picked at some moss stuck in the writing.

“Besides,” you sighed, staring at the engraving, “if my entire life was reduced to a tiny dash between dates, I’d haunt the shit out of this world, too.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said, standing up and brushing off his jeans. “I guess we’ll never know until we reach the other side, huh?”

You laughed and shook your head, pulling him off to venture further through the old graves.

As you walked through the cemetery, occasionally stopping to check out the headstones, you kept spouting off different theories and stories of these lives past lived.

Your eyes widened as you saw a fresh pile of dirt near an open hole, and you pulled Sam toward it.

“Holy shit,” you gaped, looking down at the six-foot rectangular hole in the ground. “It’s a freshly dug grave.”

“That’s…that’s morbid,” Sam shivered, leaning closer as his curiosity got the best of him. “Do you think it’s for a new burial?” His grip tightened on your hand and he glanced around, his eyes flickering between the trees and the graves. “We should probably get out of here.”

“What’s wrong? Scared?” you teased, inching closer toward the grave. You shined your flashlight down into it, seeing nothing but dirt. “Relax, there’s nothing in it.”

“I’m not scared,” he scoffed, though his voice shook as he spoke. “I just don’t wanna get caught trespassing.”

He stepped closer, his eyes following yours as you shined the light into the grave. When he saw it was empty, he let out a sigh of relief and loosened his grip on your hand.

“Let’s go before someone sees us,” Sam said, tugging on your arm.

“Live a little, Sam Monroe,” you laughed, squeezing his hand playfully. “We’re not gonna get caught—”

You stopped mid-sentence, seeing the lights on a police car slowly patrolling the cemetery.

“Shit,” you cursed, smiling amusedly. “Spoke too soon, I guess. Hurry, let’s hide.”

You pulled him toward the vacant grave, crouching down before jumping into the hole.

Sam’s eyes widened, his heart racing wildly as he looked between the grave and the police car. He held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he jumped into the grave after you. You turned off the flashlight, bathing the two of you in darkness as you pulled him close to hide.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered. “I can’t believe we just did that. Do you think they’ll search the graves?”

“Not a chance,” you laughed, breathlessly, as you felt your adrenaline pumping. You placed your hand on his chest, grinning as you said, “You feel that? Feel how your heart is racing? It’s crazy. The irony of feeling so alive while standing in an open grave.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of exhilarating,” Sam breathed, his bright eyes never leaving yours. “Now what? Do we wait for the coast to be clear, or do we climb out and hope they don’t see us?”

You gazed up at him, biting your lip as you studied his face in the pale blue moonlight. You tugged on his arm, pulling him closer until his body was pressed against yours.

“Tell me, Sam Monroe,” you said, your voice low and playful. “Have you ever kissed someone in a cemetery?”

“Uh, can’t say I have,” he said, swallowing thickly as he released a shaky breath. His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips as he added, “I guess there’s a first time for everything, right?”

“Right you are, Sam Monroe,” you grinned, gripping the front of his shirt and pulling him down to you.

You pressed your lips against his in a steady, sure kiss, letting one hand trail up to the back of his head.

Sam’s lips met yours eagerly, his heart pounding in his chest. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer to him as the kiss deepened.

He moaned against your lips, the taste of you intoxicating him. He broke the kiss, his breath coming out in heavy pants.

“I think we should climb out of here,” he whispered. “We could get caught down here.”

“That’s half the fun,” you smirked, pushing him back against the wall of dirt and kissing him again.

You moved your hands underneath his shirt, feeling the taught skin of his abdomen as you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth.

Sam groaned, his lips parting as his mind grew hazy with lust. He didn’t protest any further, his body arching into your touch as he kissed you, hungrily.

You moved your hands up to his chest, kissing across his jaw. You nipped at his earlobe before trailing open-mouth kisses down his neck.

“What do you say, Sam Monroe?” you breathed, trailing your tongue along his pulse point. “Wanna defile a grave?”

Sam’s breath hitched and he bit his lip, gripping your hips tighter. He tilted his head back as you kissed his neck, breathing out a soft moan.

“I…I’ll defile a grave for you,” he nodded, swallowing thickly.

His body was trembling with adrenaline and desire. He wanted nothing more than for you to keep touching him, the fear of being caught a distant thought.

“Good,” you grinned, leaning forward to kiss him again.

You let your tongue push past his lips, exploring his mouth as a soft moan sounded from your throat. You pulled him away from the wall of dirt, turning the two of you around so that you were the one pressed against it.

Sam’s moan echoed your own as his hand roamed over your body, his tongue tangling with yours. He stumbled back, allowing you to turn the both of you around, his body following your lead.

“Kinda poetic, isn’t it?” you panted, breaking the kiss to look up at him. “Performing a ritual of fertilization in the place where the dead will be laid to rest?”

“I’m all for some poetic justice tonight,” he breathed, leaning in to claim your lips again.

You could feel your heart pumping as you kissed him, fueling that need for something to make you feel alive.

You bit down on his bottom lip, soothing it with your tongue as you slid your hand down over his jeans to cup his erection.

Sam gasped against your lips, a needy groan sounding from his throat as he pressed his hips into your hand.

You reached down and undid the button of his jeans, lowering the zipper and pushing the material down his thighs. You pulled him out of his boxers, slowly stroking him as you grinned at his impressive size.

Sam whimpered as he felt your soft hand wrap around him, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Oh…” he moaned, dragging his teeth over his piercing as he looked at you with hooded eyes. “I need you.”

“Yeah?” you breathed, squeezing your fist around him as you stroked him faster. You swiped your thumb across his sensitive tip to gather the precum that had beaded there, causing him to hiss.

Sam’s hips bucked into your touch, his body trembling with desire. He gripped your hair, his head spinning with pleasure as he whispered, “Fuck, yes. Please.”

You used your free hand to guide his fingers to the button of your jeans, smirking at him as you continued to touch him. You leaned forward and kissed his neck again, sucking a sensitive spot until it left a deep purple mark against his pale skin.

His fingers fumbled with your jeans as you sucked on his neck, a groan escaping his lips as he tried to undress you.

“Touch me, Sam,” you panted, squeezing him tighter as you let your tongue trail up his neck, stopping to kiss the spot just beneath his ear.

“Anything for you,” he breathed, reaching his hand inside of your underwear to touch you. He moaned as his fingers made contact with your slick folds, brushing his lips against your ear as he whispered, “You’re so wet, fuck.”

You let out a soft moan into his ear, arching into his touch as he teased you. You grabbed his face and turned him back to you, kissing him with fervor as you stroked him.

“I guess cemeteries really do it for me,” you joked, laughing into the kiss.

“Mm, definitely,” he groaned, his hips bucking into your fist.

His fingers slid inside of you as his thumb stroked your clit, his free hand grabbing your leg and hiking it around his waist.

You whimpered, quietly, against his lips — his fingers striking all of the right chords. You used one hand to tug on his hair while the other moved faster over his length.

Sam moaned loudly, his breath hitching as his hips stuttered.

“Shh,” you grinned, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. “You’ll wake the dead.”

“I don’t care about the dead right now,” he breathed, leaning in to kiss your neck as he curled his fingers inside of you.

You tilted your head back, moaning as you rocked your hips against his fingers. You held his head as you stroked him, twisting your fist over his tip each time.

Sam’s eyes rolled back as he moved his fingers faster, repeatedly brushing against that perfect spot inside of you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he whispered, “I’m close. I’m so fucking close.”

“Me too,” you whimpered, feeling that knot tightening in the pit of your stomach. The adrenaline was coursing through your veins, your heart racing as you chased the edge together. “Come with me. Let’s make these souls roll in their graves.”

“Fuck, yes, I’m right there,” he panted, moaning against you as he neared the precipice. He flicked his thumb in fast circles against your clit, his voice breaking off into a string of whimpers as his hips bucked. “I’m gonna…fuck.”

You pulled his head back, looking into his eyes as the band finally snapped. You clenched around his fingers just as his release spurted out of him and onto your hand. He voiced a strangled moan as he came, working you through your own high as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

You both milked every last drop from each other, your bodies sagging together as you came down.

Sam leaned against you, panting heavily as he rested his forehead against yours. You leaned back against the wall of dirt, grinning lazily as you said, “Well, that was a much better method of getting my heart racing.”

He trailed small kisses up your neck before kissing your lips softly as he whispered, “I’m glad I could make your heart race.”

You smirked up at him, bringing your hand up to your mouth to lick his release off of it. He watched with lust-blown eyes, biting his lip. You grabbed his hand, pulling his fingers out of you and bringing them up to your lips as well. You opened your mouth, sucking around them and moaning at the taste.

You pulled him into another kiss, letting him taste your combined flavor on your tongue. He groaned into your mouth, pulling you close to him.

You broke the kiss, glancing up out of the grave.

“I think the cops are gone now,” you giggled, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Good,” he grinned, laughing softly. “Let’s get out of here.”

He gave you a boost before climbing out as well, the both of you brushing the dirt off and adjusting your clothes. You walked back through the trail in the woods hand in hand, strolling peacefully in the moonlight.

When you got back to his car, you tossed him his keys back with a grin and got into the passenger side. He laced his fingers with yours as he drove back toward the video store, occasionally bringing the back of your hand up to his lips.

“This has got to be the strangest night I’ve ever had,” he laughed, softly.

“You’ll never forget it, though, will you?” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

Sam shook his head, smiling as he said, “Never.”

He pulled back into the parking lot of the store, dimly lit by the flickering sign. He parked the car, turning toward you with a tender look.

You leaned forward and softly whispered, “Thanks for making me feel alive, Sam Monroe.”

His eyes fluttered shut as he felt your lips press against his.

“Anytime,” he whispered. “Can I get your name—?”

He opened his eyes, but you were no longer there. He glanced around, frantically, trying to see where you could’ve gone.

It was only then that he realized that his car had been the only one in the parking lot the entire night.

#smut #fanfiction #hayden christensen smut #smutrequests #imagine #sam monroe fanfiction #sam monroe imagine #one shot #sam monroe smut #sam monroe #sam monroe x reader

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ceoofsammonroe · 11 months ago

Note

Cherry is such a strong woman, I love her

i try to write cherry in a way that every reader can insert themselves into that pov. so my hope is that, when you see strength in cherry, you can also see it within yourself! 🫶🏻

#fillery yaps

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ceoofsammonroe · 11 months ago

Text

IM BACK!

sorry for the brief little hiatus, things have been hectic lately BUT i have a lil something for Sammy and for Jamie coming out later this week, so i hope that suffices as an apology offering. 🫶🏻

#fillery yaps

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ceoofsammonroe · 11 months ago

Text

Cherry - Clay Beresford

Summary: After a bad shift at the club leaves you shaken, you make the decision to call the number that Clay had left you — effectively changing the boundaries of your interactions forever.

Warnings: unprotected sex, penetrative sex, fingering (reader receiving), handjob (Clay receiving), nipple play, teasing, lots of praise, multiple orgasms (Clay and reader receiving), angst, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, descriptions of sex work, brief mention of a deceased family member, a lil glimpse of some domestic fluff.

Playlist | Masterlist

You had stared at Clay’s phone number more than you hadn’t over the last week.

You had it memorized at this point. You could recite it in your sleep, envisioning the quirks of his handwriting and the specific ways he wrote the numbers.

Everything in you wanted to call him, even if it was just to hear his voice. You had even caved and admitted to yourself that you wanted to hear another one of his whimsically poetic stories.

It was killing you slowly, but you had fought with everything in you to resist the urge. You knew that if you gave into the temptation there would be no going back. Once that line was crossed, you wouldn’t be able to recover those boundaries.

Still, the urge grew worse with everyday that passed by without him showing back up to the club.

Maybe he’d decided to keep his distance unless you called — taking it as a sign of you rejecting his advances. Or, maybe he was just busy with work.

You hoped it was the latter.

The thought of never seeing Clay again was something you couldn’t let yourself think about. It felt too devastating, too indicative of the attachment you’d unwittingly formed to him.

You showed up to the club for your Friday shift, feeling distracted and detached. Those ten digits were dancing in your mind like a taunt, a tease.

You went through the motions of your first set on autopilot, knowing you weren’t at your best. It didn’t seem to matter much as the bills came flying in.

Of course, they didn’t care about the time, effort, and artistry that went in to performing like you and the other dancers did. All that mattered to them was that your clothes came off.

You walked off the stage once you finished, trying to get a hold of yourself. Your emotions were all over the place. This was not a usual problem for you. You normally couldn’t care less about these things, but Clay’s presence had shattered your usual way of living.

His absence had made it even worse.

You sat at your station, holding your head in your hands, as Sal walked up behind you. He gave you a once over, furrowing his brow in a look that bordered on concern before shaking his head.

“You’ve got a private booking,” he told you. “Room four.”

Your ears perked up as your heart fluttered, a small glimmer of hope sparking inside of you. Sal walked away as you looked in the mirror, trying to conceal your smile while you quickly touched up your appearance.

You all but ran down the hallway, the anticipation growing as you got closer to your destination. You opened the door, ready to meet those dazzling blue eyes again — to hear his stories, to answer his questions.

Your heart plummeted to the floor and your stomach twisted into knots as you were instead met with a dark, lust-filled stare. You recognized the man — a semi-regular who always tried to cop a feel of the dancers when they’d walk past him.

His eyes raked over your figure, like a predator sizing up its prey. His twisted smile made you feel nauseous. He watched you, expectantly — sprawled out on the couch as he waited for you to give him a show.

You used to be able to do this easily. You could compartmentalize the disgust, dance for them, turn them on so they turned out their pockets.

It was a business, an art that you had perfected.

Now, it just felt so wrong. Being in this room, your room, seeing some sleazy man sitting in the spot that Clay should be sitting in…

You didn’t want to do this. You couldn’t do this.

Your breathing felt shallow as your chest tightened. You couldn’t seem to focus on anything. You couldn’t bring yourself to push through it.

You turned around and rushed out of the room, unable to hear the man’s complaints and protests over the ringing in your ears.

Barely registering your surroundings, you changed and grabbed your things. You muttered something to Sal about being sick and told him to take the fee for the private room out of your next check before leaving the club.

You got back to your apartment, pacing the floors as you tried to calm yourself down. You didn’t know what was happening to you. This had never been a problem before, but now…

Now there was him.

You fished through your bag, pulling out the crumpled piece of paper. You stared at it, gnawing on the inside of your cheek as you warred with yourself.

You dialed the number, your thumb hovering over the call button.

I shouldn’t do this, you thought. There will be no going back.

Before you could finish talking yourself out of it, you pressed the button. You raised the phone up to your ear, holding your breath as it rang. Your heart pounded in your chest, each second that passed feeling like a lifetime.

You were about to hang up and forget about the whole thing when you heard him pick up.

“Hello?” Clay’s voice rang out from the other line. Your mouth opened and closed, unable to form any words as you panicked. He waited for a moment and then said, “Cherry? Is that you?”

The anxiety you’d felt instantly quelled at the sound of his voice. You didn’t want to think about what that meant.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you said, grimacing at the way your voice trembled. “I hope it’s okay that I called.”

“Of course it’s okay,” he replied, the smile evident in the way he spoke. “I had been hoping that you would.” He paused, hesitating before he asked, “Are you alright? Is something wrong?”

For once, you couldn’t bring yourself to pretend that things were okay — that you weren’t affected. You couldn’t keep up the carefully crafted facade you’d spent years creating. Something in the way he spoke, the genuine concern in his tone, cracked through your stone walls.

Your bottom lip quivered as you said, “I don’t know.”

“What happened, Cherry?” Clay asked, gently. “I’m here to listen, whatever it is.”

“I, um…I was working my shift at the club, and…” Your voice broke off as you huffed out a shaky breath. You weren’t used to this — being vulnerable with someone. Your hands shook as you tried to open up for the first time in years. “I was told that I had a private booking and I thought it was you, but it wasn’t… It was this creep that comes in sometimes. Normally, I can push through it. It was just…the way he looked at me. It was like I wasn’t a person, like I was just some object that he owned for the hour. I didn’t like being in there with him — not in our room and…I just couldn’t do it this time. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, softly. “I can’t imagine how that must have felt for you.”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat as you took a deep breath and said, “I chose my job. I don’t regret it. It allowed me to survive, to provide for myself. I just…thought about you. I thought about your stories. I started thinking that, maybe, I want to write a better story for myself.”

Clay let out a breath, sounding like a sigh of relief, as he said, “You can write any story you want.”

Blinking back tears, you nodded to yourself. Something about his encouragement made you believe it.

“I think I want…” You trailed off, not fully sure what you were even saying. “I mean, if you wanted…if you weren’t busy and you wanted…I told you once I liked to cook and…”

Clay laughed softly and said, “Go on.”

“Would you want to…” You paused, taking a deep breath as you decided to put yourself out on the line. “Would you want to come over? I could cook dinner.”

“I would love to,” Clay responded, immediately.

A relieved sigh escaped your lips as a small smile grew on your face. You bit your lip, trying to contain your giddiness.

“Good. That’s good,” you said, awkwardly, internally cringing at yourself. Clay just chuckled, his deep voice sounding light and airy. “I can text you the details and everything.”

“Alright, that sounds perfect,” he said, the smile evident in his voice. “I’ll be looking forward to it. I’ll see you soon, Cherry.”

“I’ll see you soon, pretty boy,” you whispered back, listening to the silence as the call ended.

You put the phone down, squealing to yourself. The events of the day were nearly forgotten, now replaced by the excitement you felt.

Clay was going to be in your home.

Oh god…Clay was going to be in your home.

You looked around your apartment, beginning to panic as you started to frantically clean. You’d never had anyone come over and you suddenly felt the need to make sure every surface was spotless.

This was going to be much different than meeting him in the club. When you were there, you could keep pretending that you were just two strangers dancing in your little bubble. Inviting him into your home meant inviting him into your life.

You could only hope you wouldn’t end up regretting it.

A few hours later, dinner was finishing up in the oven as you waited for Clay to arrive. The nerves swarmed like bees in your stomach, each second feeling like an eternity.

Your heart leapt in your chest as you heard the soft sound of Clay knocking at your door.

This is it, you thought, there’s no going back.

You rubbed your shaky hands against your pants, realizing that this would be the first time he’d see you in real clothes. Somehow, you felt more naked now than you did in the lingerie. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d still like you when you weren’t the incarnation of a fantasy.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door and met those dazzling blue eyes.

“Hi,” you breathed, feeling all of the nerves dissipate.

“Hi,” Clay smiled, holding out a small bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. “I didn’t know if the champagne was still a requirement, so I brought it just in case.”

“Thank you,” you laughed, softly, turning your head to hide your blush as you took the flowers from him. You stepped back, holding the door open as you said, “Come on in.”

You held your breath and watched as he walked in to your apartment, looking around with a small smile. He seemed to be taking in every detail and you were grateful that you’d taken the time to clean.

“You have a lovely place,” he spoke, after a moment, turning to you with a look that you couldn’t quite decipher. “It feels like a real home.”

You looked around, too, imagining seeing it through his eyes. It showed him more about you, you supposed. You had little knickknacks and decorations scattered about, hinting to little pieces of your personality.

“It’s nothing much, really,” you shrugged, looking down. It was a simple one bedroom apartment, small and cozy. “It’s probably not nearly as big as you’re accustomed to.”

“Bigger doesn’t mean better, Cherry,” he said, a hint of longing in his voice. Then, with a cheeky grin, he added, “Well, in most cases, at least.”

With a playful roll of your eyes you led him into your small kitchen as you said, “Dinner is almost ready.”

You grabbed a jug of water out of the fridge, pouring some of it out before sticking the flowers in it. You noticed the way Clay raised a brow at your actions and said, “What? I don’t have any vases. I don’t exactly get flowers often.”

Clay chuckled, shaking his head as he said, “Well, I suppose we’ll have to invest in some. Though, the water jug does add character.”

He set the bottle of champagne down on the small kitchen table and leaned against the counter, watching you as you grabbed some oven mitts and turned off the timer.

You were very aware of his gaze on you as you opened the oven, nearly dropping the dish as you pulled it out and set it on the stove.

Clay inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he hummed to himself.

“That smells amazing, Cherry,” he groaned, gazing hungrily at the steaming dinner. “You’re an incredible chef.”

“You haven’t even tried it yet, pretty boy,” you giggled, grabbing plates and glasses to set the table.

“I guess I just trust your abilities implicitly,” he said, playfully.

He took the initiative to help you set everything out, putting on the oven mitts himself to carry the dish of food over. He poured the champagne as you filled the plates with food, the two of you working in tandem naturally.

As you both sat down, you held your breath as you watched Clay pick up his fork. His eyes widened as he took a bite of the food, looking up to meet yours with a twinkle of delight.

“I was right,” he smiled, nodding his head in confirmation. “This is delicious.”

“Well, I’m glad I haven’t poisoned you,” you joked, trying to deflect from the way his compliment made your heart skip.

He took a sip of the champagne and asked, “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

There was a small pang in your chest as you quietly responded, “My grandmother.”

“She must be quite exceptional if she taught you to make food this good,” he smiled, taking another bite.

“Yeah,” you nodded, solemnly. “She was.”

Clay’s eyes flickered with understand as he said, “I’m sorry, Cherry.” He paused, considering his words carefully. “Do you want to tell me about her?”

“That’s a story for another day, pretty boy,” you told him, smiling sadly.

“Another day, then,” he said, softly. As he continued to eat, he glanced around the apartment again, changing the subject. “You’ve created a wonderful space here.”

“It’s the first place that’s ever been mine,” you shrugged, looking around with a proud gleam in your eyes. “It may not be much, but it’s enough for me.”

“It’s perfect, Cherry,” he said, that look of longing returning to his face. “It feels safe and warm. It means a lot to me that you’d let me in.”

You held his gaze for a moment longer before the sheer emotion flowing between you two became too overwhelming.

As you finished dinner, you started to gather the plates and bring them to the sink. Clay didn’t hesitate to help, grabbing the other dishes and rolling up his sleeves to wash them.

“Oh, you really don’t have to do that,” you said, sheepishly.

“I insist,” he responded firmly, but kind. “You made me a wonderful dinner. Please, let me help.”

You nodded, silently, watching him move around your apartment with ease. It all felt dangerously domestic, filling you with a warmth you weren’t familiar with. It was oddly natural, being with him in this way. The simplicity felt so much more intimate than anything else you’d done.

He washed the dishes while you dried them, and you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. He looked so human. His black sweater was rolled up to his elbows as his hands were covered in suds. In the dim kitchen lighting, he looked beautiful. More beautiful than you had ever seen him.

“You can stare as long as you want, you know,” he grinned, turning his head to catch your eye. “I don’t mind.”

You bit your lip, looking down at the plate you were drying to hide the blush that warmed your cheeks.

“I was just looking at the suds you’ve got on your nose,” you shrugged, smiling bashfully.

“Mhm, sure,” he nodded, chuckling softly as he turned off the sink. “There. All done.”

“Thank you for your help,” you said, softly, turning to him, “and thank you for coming over tonight.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Cherry,” he smiled. “I had a wonderful time.” He reached out to gently grab your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “I hope there are many more nights like this.”

You gasped as your eyes met his. Those goddamn eyes could reel you in every single time. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

“Remember when I told you my favorite color was blue?” you asked, quietly.

“Yes,” Clay nodded, his voice a whisper. “Why do you ask?”

“I didn’t mean blue like the ocean,” you breathed. “I meant blue like your eyes. I don’t think I had a favorite color until I looked into them.”

Clay’s breath hitched, his gaze swimming with a newfound intensity.

“You’re…beautiful, Cherry,” he whispered, cupping your cheek as his thumb caressed your skin.

You couldn’t help but lean into the warmth of his gentle touch, feeling your heart racing in your chest. He glanced down at your lips before meeting your eyes again.

Slowly, he lowered his head, pressing his lips against yours in a soft embrace. You sighed into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Clay’s hands found your waist, pulling you into him as he deepened the kiss. His tongue teased your lips, requesting entrance that you gladly granted. Your hands tangled in his hair, feeling the soft locks as he groaned into your mouth. His breathing was labored as you pressed further into him, kissing him like he was feeding the oxygen into your lungs.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against yours as he gazed at you breathlessly.

“Cherry…” he whispered, his voice raw with desire and unsaid emotion.

The intensity in his gaze, the feelings flowing within it, nearly made your knees buckle. He looked at you like he needed you, like nothing else in the world could ever matter more than this moment.

Don’t run away. Don’t run away. Don’t run away.

You didn’t know if you were mentally pleading to yourself, or to him. All of your instincts screamed to put your walls back up, to block anyone out, to keep a hardened shell around your heart.

You didn’t want to do that anymore. This was worth the risk. He was worth the risk.

You kept your gaze locked on his as you reached for his hand, leading him back toward your bedroom.

Clay followed willingly, his breaths coming out shaky. He squeezed your hand, looking at you with a mixture of apprehension and adoration as he asked, “Are you sure, Cherry?”

You held his face in your hands, gazing up into his eyes. Looking at him like this, it all made sense. For a moment, all of your fears and doubts seemed to vanish.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you breathed.

The smile that grew on Clay’s face was enough to stop your heart.

“Then I’m yours,” he whispered.

He kissed you with a new intensity, not an ounce of hesitation in the action. Your fists clutched the front of his shirt, pulling him closer to you as your lips moved against his. Clay moaned softly, sliding his hands up your back to press your body into his.

You let your tongue tease his bottom lip as you slipped your hands beneath his shirt, feeling the taut skin that stretched across rippling muscles. Your fingernails gently scratched against the sensitive skin of his hips.

Clay groaned, arching into your touch as his grip on you tightened. He broke the kiss, panting heavily as he looked at you with hooded eyes.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

“I want this off,” you whispered against his lips, tugging impatiently at the material of his shirt.

He lifted his arms, letting you take it off as his muscles flexed. You took your time, letting your eyes travel along every inch of exposed skin. Desire swelled in the pit of your stomach as you rubbed your hands across his chest.

“You’re exquisite, pretty boy,” you breathed, looking up at him again.

“Exquisite?” Clay echoed, swallowing thickly as he reacted to your touch.

You trailed your fingers down the rivets in his abdomen, stopping at the waistband of his jeans. You toyed with the button, keeping your eyes locked on his.

Clay let out a shaky breath, his body trembling as he waited for your next move.

Slowly, you pulled his zipper down and pushed his jeans down his legs. You couldn’t help but drink in the sight of him. The contrast of his muscular build against his tight, black boxer briefs was enough to make you drool.

“Fuck, pretty boy,” you whispered, your eyes still roaming his body. “You’re goddamn work of art.”

Clay groaned, a blush of his own dusting his cheeks as he breathed, “You’re killing me, Cherry.”

You slowly removed your own clothes, smirking as Clay’s breath hitched the moment he caught a glimpse of that red lingerie set.

“See?” you grinned. “I told you. Just for you.”

“Jesus Christ…” Clay whispered, his eyes raking over your figure. He stepped toward you, reaching out to trace his fingers over the red lace. His eyes were filled with need and his voice was hoarse with desire as he looked up at you and asked, “Can you also be just for me?”

You gasped, feeling your body react to the slightest of touches from him. His question made your heart stutter. He didn’t go any further, waiting for your response.

“Is that what you want?” you asked, balancing on the precipice of vulnerability.

Clay held your face in his hands, his gaze filled with longing as he said, “More than anything, Cherry.”

The conviction in his voice nearly knocked all of the breath out of your lungs. Your mind wandered back to the feeling you’d gotten when you’d read the note he’d left you at the club. ‘Your pretty boy’, he had written. You’d dwelled on those three words everyday since, realizing that the thought of being his and him being yours didn’t sound so awful. You’d never thought that kind of relationship was something you were capable of but, gazing up at him now, you were starting to believe it could be.

You couldn’t find the words to say, to tell him that maybe you wanted all of the same things he wanted. Instead, you pressed your lips against his to seal the deal. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling his face closer to yours as you kissed him desperately. It was raw and heated and needy. You needed him. You wanted to be his completely.

Clay responded to the urgency, his large hands finding purchase on your hips as he pulled you into him. His kiss was explosive, filled with raw passion and devotion as his tongue tasted yours.

He pulled back, slightly, his eyes locked on yours as he gave you a small smile. His hands wandered further down until he gripped the backs of your thighs, lifting you up and carrying you toward the bed. He gently laid you down, lowering himself onto you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing his lips back down to yours. Clay groaned into the kiss, shifting his hips as you felt his erection press against you. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, joining together in a song of passion.

“I need you,” Clay breathed, pulling back to gaze down at you with desire.

With a grin you rolled the two of you over so that you were the one on top. You straddled his hips, resting your hands against his chest.

“What’s the verdict now, pretty boy?” you whispered, leaning down to kiss the side of his neck. “Have I convinced you that I’m not just a figment of your imagination…” you nipped at his pulse-point, tracing the vein with your tongue as he groaned. “…or do you need more proof?”

Clay’s hands gripped your hips tightly as he stared at you with hungry eyes, his heart pounding.

“I think…” he swallowed thickly, licking his lips. “I think I could use a little more proof.”

You smirked, moving down to press a kiss to his chest. Your eyes never left his as you asked, “Does that feel real?” Clay’s breath hitched as he nodded. “What about this?” you asked. “Does this feel real?” You swirled your tongue around one of his nipples, letting your teeth gently graze over the peaked bud.

“God, yes,” he choked out, his fists squeezing your skin. “So real…”

“And this?” You whispered, kissing him below his bellybutton, caressing your lips just above the waistband of his boxers.

“Yes,” he moaned, his eyebrows drawn together in desperation.

“What about this, pretty boy?” you smirked. “Is this real?”

You leaned down and placed an open-mouthed kiss against his clothed erection, letting him feel the warmth of your mouth.

“Fuck, Cherry,” he cried out, bucking his hips up involuntarily.

You traced your finger along the length of him, gently messaging the place where a wet spot had already begun forming.

“Want me to touch you, pretty boy?”

“Please,” he whispered, his voice thick with need as he nodded his head.

Your toes curled at the sound of his desperation. You dipped your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them off of his legs, freeing his throbbing erection.

Your lips parted as you took in the sight of his thick shaft with a bright red aching tip. You’d known he was big from feeling him pressed against you, but seeing it was another thing entirely.

You ran your hands up his thighs and cooed, “So fucking pretty.”

Clay let out a shaky breath, his cock twitching at the praise.

You let your fingers graze over him in a teasing manner before wrapping your hand around his shaft. You gave him a gentle squeeze, causing him to gasp and lift his hips off of the mattress.

The moment you began to slowly stroke him he let out a low moan, his eyes rolling back. His breaths came out in ragged pants, the muscles in his neck tensing with restraint.

“Fuck,” he breathed, arching into your touch. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

His hips jerked as you stroked him faster, pulling another moan from his lips. His eyes widened and he grabbed your hand, pulling it away from him. He tried to catch his breath, a light blush creeping up his neck.

“You’re a little too good at that, Cherry,” he laughed, breathlessly. “I’m not gonna let this be over that quickly.”

You couldn’t help but grin at the thought that you had gotten him so close with just a few strokes, giggling at the playful roll of his eyes.

He moved his hands into your hair, pulling you back up to kiss him again. His lips moved against yours with determination, knowing exactly what he wanted. His fingers trailed up and down your spine before he reached around and unclasped your bra.

He pulled it off of you and tossed it to the side, unabashedly admiring you as he groaned in appreciation.

His eyes stayed locked on your chest as he rubbed his hands up your sides and whispered, “God, you’re perfect.”

You couldn’t help but shiver in anticipation, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

In one swift motion, he turned the two of you back over. He hovered over you, gazing down into your eyes with admiration. He lowered his head, kissing you softly.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” he whispered, kissing down your neck. His fingers grazed the inside of your thigh, slowly moving higher.

You gasped, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you tilted your head back to give him better access. You were pretty sure your lacy bottoms had been completely soaked through at this point.

You couldn’t help but whine when Clay’s hand skipped over your need and moved further up your side. He chuckled against your neck, kissing further down toward your chest.

Clay lifted up his head to watch you as he traced teasing circles across your nipple, grinning as it tightened under his touch. He flicked his thumb over it, gently tugging on it. His eyes sparkled as you gasped, arching into his touch.

He leaned his head back down, letting his lips graze against your ear as he asked, “You like that, baby?”

“Yes,” you breathed, writhing beneath him. “Please, keep touching me.”

“Is this where you want me to keep touching you?” Clay asked, a knowing glint in his eyes as he kept teasing you.

“No,” you whined, biting down on your lip. He knew exactly what he was doing and it was driving you crazy. “Just go…lower.”

“Mm, lower?” Clay grinned, cocking his brow. He trailed his fingers down your stomach, reaching between your legs to softly caress you. “Right here?”

“Yes, right there,” you gasped, gripping onto his shoulders.

Clay hooked his fingers into the sides of the bottoms, pulling them off as he sat up to look at you. His eyelids fluttered as he pushed your legs apart, gently rubbing your thighs.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, wrapping your legs around him before leaning back down to kiss you.

You whimpered against his lips as his fingers teased your swollen clit, rubbing small circles against it. His thumb continued to toy with it as he pushed one finger inside of you. He groaned into your mouth, lifting his head up to look at you as he panted.

“God, you’re so wet, baby,” he breathed, adding another finger. “You’re gonna feel so good wrapped around me.”

You arched off of the bed as he curled his fingers, brushing them against that perfect spot inside of you. He leaned his head down and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, flicking his tongue against it.

“Fuck,” you moaned, feeling that knot tightening in the pit of your stomach. “I’m so close.”

Clay’s eyes snapped back up to you and he released your nipple with a pop, a trail of saliva still connecting it to his lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged you. “Come all over my fingers.”

Your eyes rolled back as you felt the wave of pleasure washing over you, crying out as he worked you through the high.

With a satisfied grin he pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his lips to suck them clean. He closed his eyes, groaning softly at the taste.

The sight of that alone had you worked back up in an instant. You grabbed his face, bringing his mouth back down to yours as you tasted yourself on his lips.

“I want you,” you breathed, reaching down to line him up with your entrance. You kept your eyes locked on his as you said, “I want all of you.”

Clay’s gaze softened, his eyes swimming with emotion as he whispered, “You’ve already got it.”

He rested his forehead against yours as he slowly pushed into you. Both of you let out strangled moans as his hips landed flesh against yours, the size of him stretching you out. He held your gaze as he let you adjust to him before slowly starting to move.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, burying your hands in his hair as he picked up speed. Each thrust drove you closer and closer to the edge, the feeling of him becoming completely addictive.

“You feel so good around me, Cherry,” he panted, rolling his hips into yours. “I could stay buried inside of you forever.”

You moaned at his words, gasping as he lifted your hips to push deeper inside of you. The new angle made you see stars, feeling him in places you’d never felt anything before. Your eyes fluttered shut as you breathed out, “Clay.”

Clay froze, halting his movements. His chest heaved with rapid breaths as he stared down at you, his eyes growing darker.

You’d just said his name — his real name — for the first time. It had rolled off your tongue so naturally, like it had always been yours to say.

“Say it again,” he breathed, his voice hoarse. “Say my name again.”

He slowly pulled out, nearly all the way, before thrusting back into you sharply.

“Clay,” you gasped, tugging on his hair.

He repeated the movement and groaned, “Again.”

“Clay,” you moaned, crying out as he picked up speed again. Your nails scratched down his back as he thrust into you with a new fervor. “Clay, fuck.”

“That’s it, baby, keep going,” he prompted, snapping his hips up into yours repeatedly. “Let the whole world know who’s making you feel like this.”

Your senses were honed in on him, blocking everything else out. Every thought, every worry, every doubt was all replaced by him and how he was making you feel.

“Clay, I…I’m gonna come,” you whimpered, feeling your body rocking with the force of his thrusts.

“Come with me, Cherry,” he breathed, locking eyes with you. “Let’s finish this dance together.”

It didn’t take much more for that band to snap again, sending you soaring over the edge as you came around him. You cried out his name, clinging to him as he made you see galaxies. He quickly followed, burying his face into your neck as he groaned. You rode each other out, drinking in every last ounce of pleasure before he collapsed on top of you.

“Fuck,” he breathed, lifting his head as he grinned up at you. “That was incredible. I’ve never experienced anything like that before.”

You gazed up at him and lifted a trembling hand to run your fingers through his hair, unsticking it from his forehead.

“I’ve never experienced anything like you,” you whispered, unable to hide your emotions like you’re used to. “You’re something special, Clay.”

Clay’s eyes softened as he rested his forehead against yours. He gently caressed your cheek with his thumb, placing a sweet kiss against your lips.

“You have no clue just how special you are, baby,” he murmured, softly.

You hummed, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through you as a smile tugged on your lips.

Baby.

“Call me that again,” you whispered. “It sounds nice when you say it.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled, a wide grin lighting up his face. “Alright, baby.”

Your breath hitched as he kissed across your jaw, letting his lips hover by your ear as he whispered, “Baby.”

You could feel him stiffening again where he was still connected to your body. He brought his hand up to tease your nipple again, eliciting a soft whimper from you as he kissed down your neck.

“What are you doing?” you breathed, your mind already going fuzzy.

“What do you think I’m doing, baby?” he smirked, kissing your lips as he began to rock against you again.

You both fell into a fit of moans and gasps as you clung to each other, chasing that mutual release for a second time. Succumbing to the passion and pleasure, your desires crescendoed with a cry sweeter than any song.

Your legs trembled as you came down again, breathing heavily. Your body felt like jello, but you couldn’t find anything to complain about.

“Was it your goal to make sure I wouldn’t be able to get out of this bed?” you grinned, sighing contentedly as Clay rolled over and pulled you into his chest.

“You caught me, Cherry,” Clay chuckled, rubbing soothing circles along your waist. “It was my plan all along to keep you here forever.”

You knew that things had changed. The dynamic you shared had been irreparably altered. Yet, it didn’t scare you as much as it should. Lying here in his arms felt so…right. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. For once in your life, you felt at peace.

“Tell me a story,” you whispered, tracing patterns against his chest with your fingertips. “Tell me one about you.”

A gentle smile settled onto Clay’s face as he said, “Well, this might sound silly, but I used to race remote control cars with my grandfather…”

He dove into tales of his childhood, painting a picture for you of the boy he was. You listened intently, hanging on to every word as he filled your heart with light. You listened to him for over an hour, never once growing bored. You found yourself wanting to know every little detail about him, even if you weren’t ready to share your own yet.

The two of you laid there as the night grew dark, basking in the haven of your new bubble away from the world. It was these moments that made the risk worth it — the calm before the inevitable storm.

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