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mvst4far · 2 months ago

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ok james kelly…maybe him and reader have had an on an off thing since high school or something…..also something something criminal by britney spears…….also smut ‼️

(idk if this is specific enough if not lmk 😭😭😭)

-🌪️

ᯓ HE'S A BAD BOY

. . . WITH A TAINTED HEART .ᐟ

a/n: College student James Kelly. I didn't specify a major for reader! That's all up for you to imagine. I don't remember if James parents were named in the movie, so I gave them names. This is more James pov.

15-year-old James Kelly and 15-year-old you were friends since the first day of high school. Sharing the same algebra class and sitting next to each other started all this. James wasn't shy, but he wasn't talkative.. and you were. You were talkative, so he had no other choice but to talk back because he didn't want to be rude and cause any drama.

“James, can I borrow a pencil, please?”

“James, do you have the notes from yesterday?”

“James, what are you doing today?”

James, James, James, James, James! Always asking him a question or telling him something. He never minded it. He actually appreciated that you wanted to talk to him.

Towards the end of freshman year, James and you started going out. On weekends, he'd take you to the park or to see a movie, or really anything you wanted to do. But things didn't really go the way you wanted them to. You broke up two times over the summer, once your sophomore year, again in 11th grade (and closed a 3rd time that year), and then twice again senior year. Everyone called your relationship toxic and confusing. But they just didn't understand. You weren't toxic.. confusing, sure, but not toxic. Or so you thought.

Those breakups were dumb and unnecessary anyway! You didn't even consider them breakups. They were just breaks.

Now you've been in college for a year, and coincidentally, James attends the same school. Your freshman year was chill. He didn't go up to you at all since your breakup back in senior year. The last one. For real this time. You were done with him, and he respected your wish of not wanting him to sweet-talk you back into a relationship.

James' major is Mechanical Engineering, which is way different than yours. There's no way you'd cross paths with him, and if you did, it's not like you'd try to talk to him. Both of you are busy. Way too busy for a relationship. James doesn't just go to school. He also has a (part-time) job at a body shop near his house.

After a long day at school, James returns home and is greeted by the family dog and his mother. “How was school, hon?” His mother asks. “Tiring. A little stressful. Same old same old.” James stretches and cracks his back. “Hey ma, 'M goin' out in a little while, so I won't be here for dinner.” He leaned against the counter where, on the other side, his mother was making dinner. “Are you off to see a girl?” His father asks from the dining table as he flips to the next page of the newspaper.

“No,” James responds. “Good. I want'chu to focus on your studies and not a girlfriend. The last one you had was no good.” His father responds. “Marty,” Mary says his name with a hint of anger. “Don't you talk about that sweet girl that way. You know, I ran into her at the grocery store a couple of weeks ago, and she's still respectful and very nice.” Mary stirs the pot of pasta. Mary has always liked you.

James's eyes shot up from the counter to his mom. “Did you? What did she say?” He was obviously eager to hear about what happened between you and his mother. “Oh, not much. She said hello and we hugged.. I asked her how her studies were going, and she told me a little bit about them. She asked how everyone here was doing, and then that was all.”

“Did she.. uh.” James hesitantly starts. “Specifically ask about you? No, son. She didn't.” Mary sighs. “It's okay that she didn't, Jimmy. You two should keep your minds off each other. What's done is done.”

James sighs and returns his sight to the counter. “Yeah, you're right, ma.” And then Frankie walked in. “Hey everybody.” He says, and Marty groans: "Gahh!" throwing his head back. “Can we have peace for five minutes?” Their father complains. “Come on, pa. I only said hi.” Frankie moves over to the kitchen to snag a water out of the refrigerator. “Oh yeah? Oh yeah?! You says hi, and then what happens, ah? A whole fight breaks out between you and ya brother, and who's gotta break it up? Me! Ya mutha' cant do it so I have to!”

James and Frankie give each other a confused look. “Dad, there ain't nothin' to be fighting about,” James says. “Yet.” Frankie chuckles and stands against the refrigerator. “What is this, what you doin' to my refrige'ra'ta? Awf Awf of it, boy! You see what I mean?! No peace! You're givin' me a heart attack!” Marty was making no sense with his complaining, but the boys didn't want to argue with him.

“Jimmy, where did you say you were going today?” Mary suddenly asks. “Oh. I'm just gonna sell some car parts to a guy. I won't be too late.”

That was sort of true. He was selling something alright, but not car parts. He was selling illegal drugs to teenagers in an alley. “Do you want it or not, kid?” James asks in a low, rough voice. He was frustrated. These high schoolers were practically chickening out. “Yeah, but..” One of the boys says nervously. “No buts. Look, if you take this, all your troubles are gone. You're relaxed and don't have a care in the world. Don't you want that?” James persuaded. The boys all look at each other and agree, then give their splits of money to James. And the deal was done. Well.. that one was. He still had 4 other ones to make.

By the end of all of them, it was already late night and he was tired, but he was hungry.. and he wasn't in the mood for pasta, so he went to some burger joint that was 24 hours. James heard the burgers were amazing because they were big, packed with add-ins, and their fries were amazing.

He pulls in through the drive-thru and places his order, then drives to the window. As he waited, he zoned out on whatever was in front of him until the window opened. “James.” A familiar voice calls his name. It sent chills up his spine. He looks over to the window to see you. “Y/n.” He calls back, and he can't help the grin that possesses his face. “You work in fast food? I thought you said you'd never do somethin' like this.” He laughs. You smile warmly. That laugh brings so many memories back.

“I guess I lied.” You reply. “Yeah, big time.” James keeps smiling. You give him the bag of hot food and a drink. “Here's your order.” James takes the food and drink and puts them to the side. “Thank you darlin'.”

Your heart stops. “Don't say that.” You mumble. “Oh come on, it ain't hurtin' nobody.” You shake your head. “James.. It's just.. not the time, okay? I don't think there will ever be a time for it either.” James looks down at the concrete wall and nods his head. “Yeah, okay. I get it.” He taps his finger on the wheel. “I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to upset ya.” He apologizes. “See you 'round school.” He gives you a small smile. “See you around.” You said back. See. Not talk, not catch. See.

Later that night, James was up thinking about you. He messed up so badly. It was the first time he talked to you in two years, and he screwed it up by making things awkward. What he didn't know was that you, too, were thinking of him.

Why did he have to call that name again? Your mind went back to fetch the memories of how loving and affectionate he was, how nice and such a gentleman.. even the fights and breakups were coming back, but you would still find your way back to each other, and it just proved how much you loved each other. Or at least that's how you thought of it.

He didn't actually see you around. His classes are way on the other side of the campus and were also in the morning, and yours were at noon.

It's a Friday evening, and James didn't work after school, which was great. He could just rest. No deals anything to make either. The only thing he had planned out for later was going to a house party that his buddy had invited him to. Did he think of you? Unfortunately, no. He was more focused on what drinks there would be, what snacks, and which of his other buddies were going. It was going to be fun, that's all he knew.

When he got home, it was just him. Peace and quiet. Great for a nap. He has a whole thing for when he naps. He closes the blinds, turns the AC on, locks his door, and gets all comfy in his bed. He has a big, warm, thick blanket as well. He likes his room to be cold so that he can go underneath the blanket. It's a little odd, but it makes him comfortable.

“Jimmy” knock knock

“Jimmy.” knock knock knock

“James!” knock knock knock knock knock

“JAMES!!!!!!” KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The yell of his father and banging on the door were heard outside, and it woke James right up. “What pa?! I'm busy!” James whines sleepily. “Busy doing what? Messing with your pecker, you disgusting perv? Get out here and take this trash out!” His dad yelled, and his stomps were heard leaving. James groans into a pillow and forces himself to get up from his comfy environment. He shivers at the cold air and digs into his closet for a hoodie.

He looks at the time.. oh, he took a long nap. He came home at 2:30 and it's almost 7.

James walks to the kitchen and grabs the trash bag out of the can. “I don't want any of that disgusting trash juice on the floor. Your mutha just mopped.”

James tunes Marty out and steps outside to where the garbage can is. Frankie is outside smoking a cigarette. “Dad's right inside, you know? If he sees you smoking, he'll have a cow.” Frankie removes the stick from his mouth and blows out the smoke. “Nah. He dont care no more about what I do and dont.” He leans against the stairs. “A little birdy told me you're planning to go to a party.”

“How do you know about that?” James asks. “Don't worry 'bout it,” Frankie replies and digs in his pocket to give James a few bags of something something. “I told a few folks you'd be there. You sell these to them.” James takes the baggies and puts them inside his hoodie pocket. “I don't know if I can do this tonight, Frankie. I'm supposed to be having fun.”

Frankie sniffs and takes another puff. “I wasn't asking for you to do this. I'm telling you. You bring me half the money, and the rest is yours.” Frankie points a ringed finger. James sighs and hesitates. “Frankie, I wasn't supposed to be doing any deals tonight. I just wanted to take a break and have fun with my friends.”

The older man stands up and looks down at his brother. “There ain't no breaks in this business, Jimmy. No bitching out. Do you wanna stay affording college? Cause that man in there ain't gonna help you, he dont care.” He points to the door. James rolls his eyes and inhales a deep breath. “Them old heads don't give a fuck about you or me, James. You're 20, you gotta do what you gotta do.”

James was staring at his brother with angry eyes but they also had the 'okay' look. “That's a good boy, Jimmy,” Frankie says and pats his brothers cheek. “Remember. Half.” He says and then walks away.

James stays in place for a couple of seconds and walks back into the house to get ready.

He showers, throws on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket over it. He wore regular everyday shoes to pair with. His cologne wasn't doing too much, but just enough for someone to smell when they or he walked past. He got a ride from his friend.

James was only at that party for 10 minutes before some guy went up to him for business. They went out to the back and dealt. It went smoothly. He was just wondering how many more times this was going to happen. In the span of 2 hours, he had sold all 3 baggies. Now he could finally have fun and drink as much as he wanted.

He joked and laughed with his friends for a while as they drank out of red plastic cups with liquor in them, they sang along to songs, and flirted with a couple of girls - they were just young men having fun at a party. “Hey isn't that Anthony?” Gerard, one of the guys in the group, asks. “Yeah, they call him ATM now, ya know? Because of his initials.” Someone else adds.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. That's kinda stupid if you ask me.” Gerard laughs. “But who's that girl he's with? I've never seen him with her before.” All the guys look over at Anthony and the girl. “He's always got a new girl every month,” James states the already known information. “She looks kind of familiar.”

“What if it's your ex, ah? She's got the same hair and everything.” Tony tries his best not to make it look like he's staring. “Nah, man. Every girl looks the same from the back. Plus, I doubt she'd even be at this party or any party at all.” James says, but even though he said he doubted it was you, it was a lie. He just didn't want to seem anxious about it in front of his friends.

“Are you sure?” Tony smirks as the girl turns to the side, showing off her side profile that was.. yours. James furrowed his eyebrows as Tony said that, and he looked right at you. His heart dropped. Why were you with EBT, Anthony? Whatever the hell they call him. Anthony isn't your type at all. You don't like guys who have a new girlfriend almost every two months, so what are you doing with him?

“Mister steal your girl.” Lucas laughs and puts a hand on James's shoulder. “What are you gonna do about that?” James turns his head to Lucas. “Man, get your dirty hand off of me. I don't know where that's been.” He tosses his shoulder, making the hand fall off. “I ain't gonna do nothing about that. It's not my business. She's not my girl anymore. I left her in the past.”

“Come on, we know you're not over her, Jimmy,” Gerard says after sipping on his cup. “You told us you talked to her the other day, right? Do it again. It won't hurt to catch up.” “You think AKA is gonna let me near his date? Get outta here.” James scoffs. “Let them be, I don't care.” Yes, he did. He cared a lot.

For the next half hour, James kept glancing over at you and ATM. His group of friends noticed, but they didn't say anything. They knew James would probably punch them in the throat if they tried bringing it up. As for Anthony, he also noticed James watching. The thing was that James didn't know that Anthony knew.

Anthony says something in your ear that James obviously and unfortunately couldn't hear or read from his lips in the room that was only lit up by dozens of different colored lights. You raise an eyebrow and look behind you to find James looking. He doesn't stop. He just lets the eye contact go on. “I don't know him.” You tell Anthony with a small shake of your head. James has an idea of what you're saying. “I think you're lying to me. James has been staring at us forever..”

You sigh softly. “Okay fine. He's my ex-boyfriend, but we haven't spoken since high school.” You weren't counting the time a few days ago. Anthony glances at James, who isn't staring anymore. “Change that. Go tell him to stop staring and mind his own business.” Anthony taps your ass and nudges you to walk off. “What? Why..”

“Because it's obvious he wants to say something. If talking to you again will make him stop being a creep, then go. This is the only time I won't be mad about it, though. I don't want you talking to your ex ever again.” Anthony says and nudges you again.

“God, you're so annoying,” you mumble as you head toward the corner where James and his friends are standing. The boys notice your approach, and Tony smirks. “Look who's coming,” he says to James. When James turns to see what Tony is talking about, his heart sinks again. “No, there's no way she's coming over here,” he says.

“Well, she is, so you better not embarrass yourself, tough guy.” Tony laughs. “Shut up,” James replied and tried his best not to look at you as you approached them.

Awkwardly, you stand in front of the group of young men. They don’t say anything; they just remain in place, waiting for you to speak first. “Hello,” you manage to say. “Hey,” Gerard responds. “Do any of you mind if I borrow James for a second?” You say and make eye contact with James.

James kept his gaze on you. Were you actually serious, or was this just a sick trick to embarrass him? The group of boys looks at each other as if they really needed a moment to think about it. “We don't mind at all, sweetie.” Tony gives the green flag.

“Thank you,” you say, looking at James expectantly. He exhales through his nose. “Lead the way,” he replies, following you to the back of the house, where fewer people are gathered. Outside is the best place for a conversation since it isn’t loud with music.

James is leaning against the tall brown fence. “Why did you bring me out here?” He asks. “Because Anthony told me that you wouldn't keep your eyes to yourself. He said it was because you wanted to talk to me.”

James raises an eyebrow. “I don't have anything to say.”

“Then why were you staring?” You shoot back.

James crosses his arms and replies, “Do I really need a reason?”

“Yes, you do. Obviously, you have one; you just don't want to tell me.”

“I don't know. I guess it's just weird seeing you with another guy, especially Anthony. At a party.””

“So you're saying that you're jealous.”

James huffs a laugh. “Am I?” He shakes his head. “Darlin', I ain't jealous of no one, okay? All I said was that it was weird. Don't put words in my mouth.”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“You should stop worrying about what I call you and start focusing on how dumb this is; us going back and forth. If we're gonna talk, I wanna have a nice conversation, not an argument.” James confesses.

You look down at the ground and mirror his stance. “Okay, okay.” You sigh. “Okay.” He repeats. A few awkward seconds pass by before he starts to speak again. “So, Anthony,” He brings up. “Are you really going out with him, or are you just friends?”

“I knew you were jealous.” You smirk. “I told you I'm not jealous.” He grumbles. “Just answer the question. I'm only curious.” You smile and uncross your arms. “Yeah, we're seeing each other.” James nods. “How long?” “Almost a month.”

Okay. It's not too serious.. James thinks.

“And what about you? Are you seeing anyone?” You question. James shakes his head and licks his lips before answering. “No. I'm focusing on school, and I get busy with work and other things. I don't have time for a girlfriend.” He responds.

“Ah.” You nod. “So you don't have a hookup buddy either?” That catches James off guard, but he laughs. “No.. I don't.” He says with a grin. “Not a hookup buddy.”

“So then it's usually just random girls?”

“Not totally random. It's only happened two times, and both girls are ones I know from last year. They're nice.. and I mean, it's not ĺike they wanted a relationship out of me either, so.. they were fine with just..”

“Getting dicked down and you leaving right after?” You offer.

“Yeah.” He responds. “Except I didn't leave right after. I stayed until the morning.” He says. “It wasn't awkward after we did it, so we would either just talk or go get something to eat, go back home, and then sleep it off.”

You hum in response. “I haven't done anything with Anthony.”

“How come?”

“Because I feel like that's all he wants, and if he gets it, he'll leave me right after.” James's face relaxes into a small frown. “You shouldn't be with him, then. If he doesn't like you for who you are, then you should leave and find someone who does.”

“I'm just gonna see how long we can last. Maybe he'll eventually not think like that.”

Oh, here we go. The “I can fix him” mentality. You're so pathetic.

“That's the stupidest thing you've ever said. You can't be serious.”

“Excuse you?” You give him a weirded-out expression. “Who are you to tell me that I'm stupid, James?” “An even stupider person.” He declares. “Y/n, he's not good for you. He's not good to you. Fuck, hes not good to anyone!”

“Don't take his bullshit. You need to realize that you dont deserve a douche bag like that. You need a guy who's gonna love you for who you are no matter what. A guy who wants to be there for you through everything.”

“Oh yeah, so you? You're describing yourself?”

James let out a frustrated groan, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I distinctly remember telling you to stop putting words in my mouth,” he said, his voice edged with annoyance. “And for the record, no, I'm not describing myself. The reality is that you and I are finished, and there’s nothing either of us can do to change that. I’m not the right person for you, and you’re not the right person for me. We simply don’t match. Im just trying to help you realize that LOL over there isn't a guy you should be with if you want something serious.”

“Really? You mean ATM?” You exhale sharply, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “ATM, LOL, EBT, whatever—Anthony isn't a good guy. I know you’re not naïve, so please don’t pretend to be.” He grips your shoulders, his expression earnest and concerned. “Seriously, just break up with him before he ends up hurting you.”

“James, it's clear we can't have a nice conversation like you wanted. So before this turns into something it shouldn't, I'm going to walk away. Please let me go.”

James removes his hands and sighs, lolling his head to the side. “Alright.” He mumbles. “Enjoy the rest of the party.”

“You too.” You say and walk away. James watches you and bites his lower lip. He wished he just minded his business. He wished you didn't have to bring up relationships and hooking up. It really could have gone well if it hadn't been brought up.

For the rest of the party, James stayed in a corner where he couldn't see you. Tony was the one who stayed with him while the other boys were on the dance floor. James told him everything that happened. “No dude, she was in the wrong. She's being an idiot.” Tony says. “Don't call her an Idiot.” James defends you even though you were being an idiot. “My bad.” Tony chuckles.

“Can you give me a ride home? I just can’t deal with this party any longer. It’s even harder with her here,” James said, glancing towards the crowded living room where laughter and music filled the air but failed to lift his spirits.

Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Are you really sure about this? Don’t let a girl ruin your night, man. You've got to stay and enjoy yourself, at least a little,” he replied, trying to gauge James's mood.

James sighed, the weight of the evening pressing down on him. “I appreciate it, Tony, but I really need to go. I just want to get home, crawl into bed, and forget about all this for a while,” he admitted, his tone firm but weary. “Okay, let's go then,” Tony says.

Back at the house, James locks himself in his still-cold room. Already changed into sweats and shirtless, he replays the whole day in his mind

The day at school, receiving a reality check from Frankie and then dealing to his customers, having fun.. and then arguing with his first love. He tosses and turns in bed as he remembers. He can't sleep. He's overthinking.

What if she hates me now?

Should I have kept my mouth shut? Yes. No. Maybe. Somebody had to check her.

Is she right? Maybe I am jealous.

Jealous? What am I talking about. I'm over her. I can't get back with her anyway. I told her that already. If I asked, I'd look pathetic. I'm not pathetic.

Am I?

He falls asleep after hours of hundreds of thoughts. Hopefully, soon, he can apologize for upsetting you and OMG.

This will eventually have a part two, I just want to take a break from putting all my attention on this so I can work on my other asks. I wanted to really put in a lot of smaller details in this without smut because I wanted to prove to myself that I could write a good story without it having something sexual at the end. (Yes, there were sexual references in this, but hopefully, you know what I mean). I think this turned out well, and I hope you do too. Please let me know if it was boring and if I should leave those smaller details out and just stick to what I usually post haha.

@bxbyysstuff @anakinstwinklebunny @lovethestarrs @valloos @anisangeldust @xo-yaaaaaas-xo @anakinca @dollfilmz @gothams-sweetheart @sockiess @sythethecarrot @speaknow-sw @loveamira @alealuvshayden @mvst4far @prettiestmini @amiratheangel @blckberrie @literally-izzyy @litt1e-misssunsh1ne @chanelluvstvd @hearts4sammonroe @fratbrochrisgf

#summer's reblogs .ᐟ #james kelly #my man my man my man

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mvst4far · 2 months ago

Text

series: the playboy’s edition 🖤 — ch. 2

pairing: AJ x f!reader | status: ongoing

series masterlist

series summary: you're an editor. he's a headache headline. and for the next two weeks, you're stuck together. what could possibly go wrong?

chapter warnings: strong language, light alcohol consumption.

a/n: AJ West has arrived. is that good or bad??? you tell me… 😉 i rewrote this like twice lmao. i hope you guys like it!! enjoyyy 🖤

⟢ the playboy’s edition: ch. 1 | ch. 3 (coming soon!)

By 11:30, you were seething.

Profiling AJ West meant too many things—all of which spun your head in different directions. It started with your job. Vivienne hadn’t just cleared your schedule for the day. She’d cleared it for the next two weeks. Just wiped it clean like it was nothing. Meetings? Gone. Interviews? Pushed. The projects you were actually invested in? No longer your problem.

And then there was Savannah—reassigned, just like that. “For the duration of your trip,” Vivienne had said, breezily, as if this were some all-expenses-paid getaway. Like spending two weeks tethered to AJ West, of all people, was something you would choose to do.

A fucking trip.

You scoffed just thinking about it.

And AJ himself? Don’t even get started.

There was a reason you’d never mentioned him in your column. Actually, you could probably give ten. But the main one? You didn’t trust anyone without a past. Not publicly. Not privately.

That was your job, wasn’t it? To look closer. To find the slant worth writing about—the angle beneath the gloss.

So no, you didn’t trust someone who managed to make millions, no, billions, with a name that sounded like he pulled it from some online generator.

This was a man with global partnerships and more influence than half the Forbes list combined—and still, somehow, no traceable origin story that didn’t feel like it had been rewritten a dozen times and run through legal.

How could someone build an empire without leaving a footprint? Be the face of power with none of the baggage?

Vivienne had looked at you like you were the crazy one when you pointed it out. Like AJ West was some kind of holy grail—too pristine to question.

Which was bullshit.

But what really sent you over the edge?

The car.

More specifically, the car sent to pick you up.

“Good morning. I’m here on behalf of Mr. West,” the driver had said, all polite and well-rehearsed as he stepped around the sleek front of the vehicle to greet you outside of the AURUM building. His name was Easton—first or last, you didn’t know—but what you did know was that he was AJ West’s personal driver.

He had said so. Plain and simple.

AJ West had actually sent his personal driver to pick you up.

And the vehicle? A black Range Rover Autobiography.

Windows tinted to an almost obsidian opacity. The paint, glossy enough to reflect the entire street like a mirror. Inside, it was all smooth leather, gleaming trim, and silence designed to mute the outside world.

You shifted in the seat as Easton pulled into traffic, your eyes catching on the stitching beneath you. Immaculate, of course. The kind of detail meant to impress people who cared about things like that.

An eye roll came before you could stop it, something you had a feeling would become a regular occurrence over the next two weeks.

You had every intention of driving yourself. Like a normal person. Not being chauffeured around like some pampered accessory in a billionaire’s itinerary. Especially not for a man you already couldn’t stand.

This was supposed to be an opportunity. You knew that. A career-defining assignment, Vivienne had called it. And deep down, you knew she was right. AJ West was, by every professional measure, the kind of feature that turned bylines into brand names. His reach, his image, his name alone could catapult the January issue into record numbers.

But still—the devil wears Prada, right?

Only this time it was Dolce. Rolex. And Tom Ford black ties with matching custom suits.

“Fuck me,” you muttered under your breath, turning your head to look out the window.

“I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t catch that,” Easton said from the front, voice smooth and annoyingly polite.

“Nothing. Sorry,” you replied quickly, forcing the edge from your voice as you sank a little deeper into the seat.

You shook your head and tried to refocus.

Without really thinking, you reached into your work bag and pulled out the thin folder marked West, AJ. You’d already read it—twice, actually—but right now, it was less about the information and more about not unraveling.

So you flipped it open, fingers moving silently through the sparse pages.

The file was practically hollow. No real details, no flaws. Just clean lines and controlled messaging. A PR masterpiece and your worst nightmare.

You exhaled slowly and pushed the thought from your mind.

Not now.

Frustrating as it was, this was still your assignment. Which meant doing the job—even if every part of you wanted to be anywhere else.

You swallowed your pride—barely—and sat back, letting the silence stretch.

Eventually, the car rolled to a slow stop in front of Lexford Tower.

AJ West’s glass fortress.

It stretched high above the city. Prestigious, formidable, and impossible to miss. The top floors belonged to West & Vale Capital, and somewhere up there—behind one of those pristine panes of glass—was his office.

Even higher? His penthouse. You weren’t sure which word made your eye twitch more.

Easton stepped around to open your door.

“Thank you,” you said, slipping your bag onto your shoulder before stepping out and heading toward the entrance.

The front doors were massive. A revolving circle of glass and chrome set into the black stone facade. They spun slowly, purposefully, like the building itself had a schedule too important to rush.

Inside, the lobby was dark luxury in every direction—charcoal walls, deep espresso wood accents, a soft undercurrent of musk and tonka in the air. Everything was refined, intentional, and cold in a way that screamed money without trying too hard.

You didn’t make it five steps before a woman greeted you with a bright, practiced smile.

“Welcome, Miss Y/L/N.” Her voice was smooth, professional.

“Hi,” you replied, a little caught off guard that she knew exactly who you were.

“Elena,” she added, stepping to the side as she motioned for you to follow. “Mr. West is expecting you. Right this way.”

And just like that, you were moving again, heels tapping softly across the dark marble floor as you followed Elena toward the far corner of the lobby. The elevator was almost hidden in plain sight—clean lines, so understated it blended into the wall.

Once inside, Elena pulled a slim badge from the lanyard tucked beneath her blazer, scanned it against the panel, and waited for the soft beep that followed. The floor numbers lit up in a pale gold glow, and she pressed the button for the 54th floor.

The doors slid shut with a quiet hush, and the elevator began to rise in silence. Only a faint hum of classical music filled the space—something delicate and string-heavy, probably chosen to keep tempers low and luxury high.

You shifted your weight slightly, letting your gaze move across the walls. Black lacquer. Brushed gold accents. Everything was streamlined. Elegant without being showy. Cold, but expensive.

The parallel was almost too obvious.

No unnecessary detail. No excess.

Just like him.

When the doors slid open, the 54th floor unfolded like the rest of the building—precise and deliberate. Deep colored walls. Matte black fixtures. The same weightless opulence you’d seen downstairs, only elevated. Literally and otherwise.

You stepped out, posture sharpening instantly—spine straight, shoulders drawn back.

This was AJ West’s domain. Controlled. Luxurious. Intimidating. Every inch of space was crafted to reflect him without needing to say a word.

Elena led you to the receptionist’s desk, where she exchanged a few hushed words with the woman seated behind it—sleek bun, flawless makeup, not a single thing out of place.

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But standing this close, it was impossible not to hear it.

“…just finishing up with legal,” the receptionist murmured, her voice crisp but quiet. “It’s a standard NDA—nothing to worry about.”

Standard. Right.

More like a morning-after clause dressed in business casual.

You arched a brow, but kept your mouth shut.

The receptionist offered a placid smile, tapping something into her keyboard. “He’s clear now. You can send her in.”

Elena gave a subtle tilt of her head, then turned to you with a softer tone.

“Would you like me to take your coat?”

There was an ease in her voice, polite in a way that made the transition feel seamless.

You slid the coat from your shoulders and handed it over with a quiet, “Thanks.”

Then you were handed off again. Another woman appeared—equally polished, dressed in soft neutrals that matched the rest of the floor. She turned without a word and started down the hall. You followed, your heels muffled by the thick runner beneath your feet.

Finally, she stopped in front of a set of tall double doors. With one gentle push, she opened them and stepped aside.

“Take a seat. Mr. West will be with you shortly,” she said, offering a soft smile that felt just as rehearsed as everything else.

You gave a small nod, stepping into the office as the doors clicked shut behind you.

The room was draped in dark tones—muted, but rich. A continuation of the building’s aesthetic, but more personal somehow. The only real light came from the wall of windows stretching across the front of the room. Floor-to-ceiling glass pulled in the last of the morning light, casting a cool haze across polished surfaces.

The scent hit you next.

Warm and structured. There was cardamom, maybe, and something fresh. But under it all, it was grounded with a smoky pull. It didn’t match the scent in the lobby—this was different. You figured it was whatever fragrance had been chosen for the space, something intentional to match the rest of it.

Subtle, but you liked it more than you expected to.

You moved farther in, eyes sweeping the space. Everything was perfectly placed—the desk spotless, the shelves arranged with just the right number of books and curated objects. Not a thing out of line.

If he actually did business in here, it sure as hell didn’t look like it.

Finally, you moved to one of the leather chairs across from his desk. You slipped your bag from your shoulder and placed it on the floor beside you, letting your hands rest lightly on your knees.

And in the same breath, the door opened behind you.

Reflex pulled you to your feet, hands smoothing over your clothes as you turned.

Then you saw him.

AJ West walked in like the air shifted to make room for him. Not dramatically. Not loudly. Just enough for the energy to tilt, the room recognizing its owner the moment he stepped inside. His suit was black, perfectly cut, and tailored so precisely it looked like it had been sculpted straight onto him.

His hair—light brown, thick—was styled back with a lift that bordered on effortless. The warm, golden undertones caught the light when he moved, highlighting the angles of his cheekbones and the sharp line of his jaw.

He tilted his head slightly, as if responding to a thought only he could hear, then lifted a hand to adjust the collar of his shirt with a quick flick of his fingers.

And there, just barely visible, you caught it: a flash of ink beneath the collar. A tattoo. Faint, but defined. It disappeared just as fast, the collar falling back into place like it had never happened.

His expression gave nothing away. No emotion. No acknowledgment. Just the same composed stillness you’d seen in every headline photo and profile.

But his jaw told a different story—it was locked tight. Set like control was something he wore just as deliberately as his suit.

He crossed the room without pause, every step fluid and assured, like even the floor had been built to match his pace. Not once did he look your way. He just kept moving, straight toward the corner bar by the window.

There, he poured a two-finger measure of whiskey into a crystal glass, the liquid catching in the light as it splashed softly against the sides.

Then he turned—his back to you, gaze fixed on the skyline. One hand wrapped around the glass, the other tucked neatly into his pocket. Like the view outside deserved more attention than the person standing in his office.

You watched him. Watched the way he sipped so casually, so unaffected, and something in you tightened.

Your tongue pressed against your cheek, a dry, humorless laugh slipping out as you lowered yourself back into the chair. You crossed your legs, reached into your bag, and pulled out your notepad, setting it on your lap. The click of your pen followed—precise, pointed, just loud enough to make a statement.

And then the real one broke through—

“Whiskey before noon. Bold choice. I’ll be sure to list that under ‘eccentric habits,’” you said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm as your pen moved against the page.

The comeback came instantly, like he’d been waiting for it.

“That’s interesting,” he said, voice steady and unimpressed. “Commenting on bold choices while wearing Louboutins to a meeting.”

The glass rose to his lips again, his posture unchanged. Still facing the window. Still completely unbothered.

You let the words sink in, your mouth pressing into a flatter line as you inhaled slowly. Your eyes narrowed at his back before you let out the softest scoff.

Asshole.

The word burned quietly in the back of your mind. No less sharp just because it went unspoken.

“I wore them to work,” you snapped, the bite slipping back into your voice. “Then ended up in this meeting with you.”

Your fingers tightened around your pen, but you didn’t look away. “You walk around in pressed Armani suits, but what—draw the line at red soles?”

That made him chuckle, low and brief.

“No,” he said, setting the glass down on the bar with a clink that somehow sounded final. “I draw the line at people who think fashion statements mean substance.”

Then he turned.

No longer just a figure in the room, he faced you fully now, stepping away from the bar with the ease of someone who never second-guessed their own presence. His eyes—blue and unflinching—locked onto yours as he moved toward you like the rest of the room didn’t exist.

You reached down, placing your notebook onto the leather chair beside you, and rose. Not out of politeness. Not out of professionalism. You stood because something in you refused to be looked down on. Especially by him.

“Funny,” you said, voice cool but edged in disdain. You met his stare. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

He stopped just a few feet away, his eyes dragging over you in a glide that was too practiced to be casual, too unhurried to ignore. A flicker passed through them—calculated, exact, and gone before you could place it.

“This isn’t going to work,” he said, flat and certain. But his voice had shifted. Darker. Slower.

You didn’t step back. “Why?” Your chin lifted. “Afraid I’ll tell the world exactly who you are? Arrogant. High-handed. A fake.”

AJ stepped in without hesitation.

And in that quiet—when the room felt too still and too close—you caught it again. That scent. The one you noticed the second you walked in.

It wasn’t the room. It was him.

That warm, smoky sharpness threaded with something smoother. Spice wrapped in earth. Polished wood and expensive heat. It settled into your senses before you could stop it.

Undeniable. Unavoidable. Like everything else about him.

Then, his voice pulled you back.

It came low and cutting, the kind of tone that didn’t rise to meet the moment—it made the moment come to him.

“What makes you think I care what you have to say about me?”

You raised a brow. “You hired me.”

“No.” He corrected you without blinking. “My team hired you. Publicity, PR, whatever bullshit justification they made up.”

His tone didn’t waver.

“Don’t confuse that with me wanting you here.”

You held your ground, a slow burn building in your chest.

“You act like you’re so above it all,” you said, leaning in, your voice dropping just enough.

“But doesn’t your whole empire hinge on how the world sees you?”

His jaw ticked again. The same way it had when he walked in. A small tell, but a tell all the same.

Then—

“I don’t give a shit what people think.”

The words didn’t lift, didn’t snap. But there was weight in them, measured and heavy, like he’d said it a thousand times before but never meant it more than right now.

His next words came slower, each one cutting its way out. “People don’t want real. They want digestible. And I don’t care about either.”

Your gaze held his, taut and unwavering, neither of you willing to yield first. It wasn’t just tension—it was ego against ego. Fire pressed to steel.

“I’ll be sure to quote you on that,” you replied, your voice calm but biting, a perfect mirror to his.

Just then, another voice slipped into the room, breaking the standoff between you two.

“Please don’t,” the voice said, a soft laugh tucked beneath the words—its tone laced with the kind of light charm that made disruption sound like poise.

You turned on instinct, caught off guard—you hadn’t even heard the door open.

A woman was crossing the room, her heels nearly silent against the floor. Dressed in crisp cream and black, hair tucked neatly behind one ear, her smile was polished, knowing.

“Camilla,” she said as she approached, extending a hand. “PR director.”

You reached out slowly to shake it. Her grip was firm but kind. Still, you barely looked at her—you couldn’t. Not with AJ’s gaze anchored to you the way it was.

His eyes hadn’t left you. Not once.

There was weight in the way he looked at you—as if he were cataloging everything from the way you stood to the curve of your mouth.

And when his eyes met yours again, they stayed.

“Mr. West, your publicist will join us when he’s finished wrapping up a phone call with the venue in New York,” Camilla said, trying to redirect the moment. “Would you like to get started without him?”

He didn’t answer. Just kept his eyes on you.

“Mr. West?” she prompted again, the calm in her voice thinning just slightly.

His response came slow, like he hadn’t even considered giving her the courtesy of a reply until now. But when he spoke, the words weren’t for her.

They were for you.

“Print whatever you want. Just don’t expect me to play nice for it.”

You blinked once. Not because his words got to you—but because it gave you the second you needed to lock it all back into place.

Then came your voice: measured and honeyed, weaponized in its politeness.

“With all due respect, Mr. West—which is none—if you were capable of playing nice, I don’t think your team would be this desperate for a feature.”

Your lips curved at the edges, soft and scathing all at once.

AJ didn’t flinch. But that jaw tightened again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Camilla go still. Her lips parted like she meant to intervene, but the moment sealed itself too fast. You caught the faintest trace of dread in her eyes.

Like she finally realized this was a match made in hell.

Because it was.

Camilla cleared her throat—a final attempt to steer the moment back on track. She stepped in closer, her gaze flicking between AJ’s unreadable expression and the sharp edge still lingering behind your own.

Then, gently, with a smile just tight enough to betray the nerves beneath it, she tried again.

“Shall we?”

please do not repost, copy, or claim my work as your own.

• tag list: @alealuvshayden @sythethecarrot @apocalyptichero @ggyuslovie @anak1ns-wife @5secondsofmoxley @f1wh0recom @purplerose291 @i5hyv @endairachristensen26 @mvst4far @viridian-dagger

if you want to be tagged in my future posts, just let me know (comment or message me). i’m happy to do it! :)

• links: masterlist | wattpad

#summer's reblogs .ᐟ #aj takers #my man my man my man

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mvst4far · 2 months ago

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thank you for the tag bby!

currently reading: nothing. sigh

last song: dam that river - alice in chains

last film: me before you

last series: masters of the air

salty/sweet/savoury: salty

tea or coffee: both

working on: aj fluff 😝

idk who to tag so any of my moots!

TAG NINE PEOPLE YOU WANT TO GET TO KNOW MORE

tried to reblog the original post but it was gone so here we are i guess. thanks for tagging me leigh!!!!! @poemeater <3 i love you to pluto and back come kiss me now

currently reading: nothing actually. walk of shame

last song: man in the mirror — michael jackson

last film: captain america brave new world

last series: new girl season 3, mha season 2 (rewatch), wbk s2

sweet/savory/salty?: savory + salty!!! but i would give up both kidneys for some cinnamon sugar pretzels rn

tea or coffee: tea always

working on: packing to move states in july, weeding through some rough friendships that no longer serve me, picking up guitar again, and. well. kinktober ‘25

no pressure tags 🤍 @carminechrollo @admiringlove @madaqueue @cheralith @bouqette @mochiqa @mosskissed @storiesoflilies @toadba @tokeposts @hiraethwrote sorry if you’ve been tagged i tried to choose people i haven’t tagged in awhile/at all hehe

#summer's reblogs .ᐟ #you love me

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mvst4far · 2 months ago

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Hiiii!! I was wondering if you would like to be apart of my tag list it’s okay if you don’t!! @hiddeninthemagnolias

xoxo-diaa!!

of courseee, i'd love to be added!

#summer's replies .ᐟ #you love me

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mvst4far · 2 months ago

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── .✦ CHERRY COKE

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ─ A dingy bar filled with intimidating gang members, only one stood out to you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ─ curse words, catcalling, use of cigarettes and alcohol, men with potty mouths, slight suggestive language, pet names, one use of y/n, and i think that's it!

𝑨/𝑵 ─ first small fic for Benny! could potentially make this a two parter if wanted. also sorry for being so inactive, i'm trying to post a lot more and clear out my drafts. this fic is set in the 1960s just how it is in the movie.

── .✦ Lively bars with bold colors, quirky decor to contribute to the unique character, and scent of cigarettes wasn't really your thing. You'd much rather stay at home, tease your hair with a comb or read a book. But with the neglect of hanging out with your friend, Betty, you gave in and visited a bar that another one of her friends had suggested.

So there you were, entering the dingy bar with your arm in hers. There were a lot of motorbikes parked out front, which could only mean one thing.

Gang members.

The musky scent of alcohol, cigarettes, and sweat mixed with cologne filled your nostrils immediately. God, this place was disgusting.

Betty led you to a small booth in the back, leather seats ripped and torn, but at least it was somewhat isolated from everybody else.

"Pretty groovy, huh?" Betty slides into the seats across from you, taking a moment to look over the place.

You flash a weak smile and nod, trying not to make it obvious you were uncomfortable. "Yeah.. it's somethin' alright."

She giggles, waving at some older biker before returning her gaze back to you. "Lot of hunks here, am I right?"

Typical Betty. She was always throwing herself at a man, especially the good-looking ones.

"Yeah, if you're into older guys who look like they could be your father." You tease, scoffing and playfully rolling your eyes.

"Whatevs," Betty rolls her eyes, "I'll get us some drinks. Be back in a sec." Before you could even say anything, she slipped out of the booth and approached the bar.

Great. Just great.

Not only did she leave you alone with nothing to do, but she left you surrounded by thirsty older men.

"Hey, foxy." Some older guy called out to you, catching your attention. "How about comin' home with me, yeah?" He takes a deep inhale from his cigarette.

You rolled your eyes and ignored him, letting your eyes drag along the lively bar. And that's when you saw BENNY CROSS for the first time.

Standing by the pool table, biceps flexed and tattoos on full display.

God, he was beautiful. You didn't know what, but there was definitely something different about him. A whole lot different from all the other men h─

"I wouldn't try it, sweetheart." Some other guy approaches your table, snapping you out of your thoughts.

He seemed a lot more calmer than the other older men, and maybe a little bit younger as well. "That's Benny. Benny Cross. He's cold-hearted, doesn't have time for little girls like yourself ogling over him."

"I'm not ogling," You defend.

The man nods, shrugging. "Sure. Whatever works for you." He gives you one last look before turning around and walking away.

Your eyes followed that man for a moment before gazing around the bar once again. All you could notice was Betty flirting with some guy with a leather jacket and a cigarette between his lips, and that was your sign to leave.

You stood up from the booth, grabbing your purse and dashing out through the crowd. Once you were met with the calming outside air, streetlights flickering, you let out a sigh in relief.

But that was soon disturbed when the door opened with a chime.

You turned your body around to see who it was, and it was that same guy standing at the pool table. Otherwise known as, Benny Cross.

He had a denim jacket on now with some logo on the back, a cigarette held between his chapped lips, and you couldn't help but let your eyes roam over him.

Of course with your non-subtle ogling, he immediately noticed. "Eat your heart out," He murmured, boots thudding quietly against the concrete as he slowly approached you.

This made you blink back into reality. "O-oh.. sorry. I didn't know that I was staring." You mumbled awkwardly, breath getting caught in your throat as he towered over you.

He nods in response, taking a drag of the cigarette before exhaling the smoke out. "It's pretty dangerous to be out here by yourself, don't you think? Maybe come back inside. I'll get you a beer, or a cherry coke."

"No thanks," You politely decline, shaking your head.

Benny clicks his tongue against his teeth, dropping his cigarette and stubbing it out with his boot. "Outside works too, I guess." He shrugs.

The next few moments were seeped with pure silence. But Benny's baby blue eyes never left yours.

"So," He starts, "You have a name?"

You nod, smiling faintly. "Yeah, I'm Y/n."

A small smile curves at his lips, but he suppressed it. "Benny." He introduces himself shortly after.

Though you already knew his name, you just nodded and smiled.

The two of you were soon abruptly interrupted by a bunch of men who hurried out the door, that same logo on their denim jackets.

And that's when you realized.

They were all in the same motorcycle gang.

Benny looked over at them all, eyes locked on one. "What the fuck did you do, Johnny?" He spat out, noticing the cuts on his fist.

Johnny shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. "Fought some pricks."

Benny just shook his head, watching as they all hopped on their motorbikes before returning his eyes back to you. You saw how his irises softened, but you weren't going to comment about it.

"Go home, yeah?" He says, taking a few steps backwards.

You nod, smiling reassuringly as you watch him and his group of friends roar their engines to life and speed off onto the road in the dead of night.

There was only one thing your mind.

Would you ever see Benny Cross again?

sigh this wasn't proofread so ignore any mistakes.

taglist: @alealuvshayden @anakinstwinklebunny @divineani @estranged-girl @fredswrite @aritcfsr @amiratheangel @ysrjune @madsluvsdilfs @dollfilmz @sythethecarrot @holyfujjj @blckberrie @anon-188

#austin butler #benny cross #benny cross x reader #benny cross fanfiction #benny cross masterlist #the bikeriders #fanfiction #austin butler x reader #1960s #mvst4far

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mvst4far · 2 months ago

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PAIRING: sam monroe x vinnie

genre: FLUFF ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

It was nighttime now. The room was dim and warm from the sun that shined on the wooden floor. The hum of little lullabies from that same playlist played low as the wind pressed itself against the windows. You were already tucked into bed, reading, letting the boys have their routine.

Sam was in Vinnie’s room—wall aside. Lights dimmed to a sleepy golden glow, stars from a projector scattered across the ceiling. Vinnie was clean from his bath, teeth brushed (Sam fought a whole battle for like five seconds of brushing before giving him to you), wearing those too-small Winnie the Pooh jammies he refused to part with.

They were curled together in the toddler bed, Vinnie’s back against Sam’s chest, Sam’s arms wrapped around his tiny frame. The blanket with ducks on it was kicked off again, like always.

“Alright,” Sam said quietly, brushing Vinnie’s curls back from his forehead. “You get one more identity tonight. Just one. What are you now? Not a car. Not an apple. Not a dog.”

Vinnie turned in his arms a little, looked up at him with the softest eyes. His lips pouted thoughtfully before muttering

“I’m… Thammy.”

Sam blinked. “…What?”

Vinnie smiled sleepily. “I YOU!” He pointed at Sam’s hoodie, his rings, then touched his own chest with those chubby hands. “I no wea' blak but-but i sit like this.” He folded his legs criss-crossed, completely wrong. “I fink… and I go ‘hmph.’”

Sam choked on a laugh, caught so off guard. “I do not go hmph,” he muttered.

“Yuh huh,” Vinnie insisted, poking his chin up. “Like dis.” Then he did it—arms crossed, frowning, tilting his head with a dramatic sigh.

"Now you're being judgy"

But Vinnie just giggled and curled back into him, soft and clingy. “…Why you wanna be me, huh?” Sam asked after a second, quieter now. His voice a little scratchy.

Vinnie didn’t even think about it. “Cus you ‘tay wif me when I cwy.”

“An’ you say no bugs when I sweep.”

Vinnie kept going in a sleepy slur of words. "You give me ketchu wif fries,” he mumbled. “An’ you read all da pages even when I say no mo'. An’ you go mm-mm when da food is yummy. I go mm-mm too." He started to play with his little fingers "An' Thammy wuv da mommy an hug hew when she sad an--an yu tell hew she botiful an she smiles wiiideeeee..I wanna make mommy tho huppy like thammy do"

Sam was losing it. Like actually losing it. His throat clenched. His hand was on Vinnie’s tummy now, rubbing slowly, grounding himself.

“…You don’t wanna be me, buddy,” he whispered finally, brushing his nose against Vinnie’s hair. “I ain’t all that.”

Vinnie pulled back to look up at him again, tired, serious.

“You da best daddy,” he said firmly. “I be Thammy. Like you.”

Sam’s eyes were glossy, disgustingly shiny. He had to look up at the ceiling to blink it away. He let out a breath and nodded.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Fine. You win.” he put a soft kiss on Vinnie’s forehead.

“You be me. But you gotta grow into the rings and hoodie first, lil man.”

Vinnie smiled. “Wanna wear chain too.”

Sam snorted. “Okay. We will talk about that later. For now, you can wear your pasta necklace from daycare.”

Vinnie giggled one last time before cuddling back into him. And Sam held him tighter, heart aching and full, just them, just the dark, just love.

“…Still better than being a damn apple,” Sam muttered into his hair.

BUNNY'S TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyles @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden @cherriies-snake @skywalkerssgirl @fredswrite @mvst4far @alealuvshayden @kandralice @prettiestmini @loliskywalker @amiratheangel

#summer's reblogs .ᐟ #sam monroe #my man my man my man

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mvst4far · 2 months ago

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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.

Fireworks, 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.

#summer's reblogs .ᐟ #sam monroe #my man my man my man

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mvst4far · 2 months ago

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PAIRING: Spiderman!sam monroe x vinnie x reader

genre: FLUFF ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

| i had a request about Spiderman!sam with vinnie..its a lil prequel |

The daycare was loud. SAM MONROE did the most social thing ever known for someone like him - attended to one of the public daycares in the city to talk about being a hero. He wanted to vomit at the thought of that. But SPIDER-MAN was different; he would let his pride go down a hook to satisfy thirty people with his wild stories.

He had an invitations from all over the place- from preschool to high-school but this one sat on his heart for a while. Especially since a special little guy was attending to it every day.

Now he stood in the middle of the foam-matted room, surrounded by a SWARM of kids—tiny hands tugging at his suit, shrieks of “DO A FLIP!” and “SPIDEY CAN YOU LIFT ME?!” echoing off the primary-colored walls. He could barely breathe through the crowd, but not from the physical chaos—no, he was used to dodging cars and grenades and collapsing scaffolding—but from what he saw past the chaos..

His baby boy.

At the very back.

Pressed against a shelf of toys, still in his little soft Spider-Man onesie with the chest slightly stained from applesauce. His short legs shifted restlessly as he stood on his tiptoes, trying to peek past the other kids. Pudgy baby hands clenched in front of him. Eyes big and round, lips pouting slightly like he was trying not to cry.

He was waiting. Patient. Quiet.

Hopeful it would be his turn. Yet no one noticed him. No one let him through. He just stood there like he didn't think he deserved to push past.

Sam’s heart split open under the mask, bleed through the material. He physically couldn't keep playing this charade. Not while his baby was in the corner looking like the loneliest sweetheart in the whole universe.

So he took a breath, lifted both of his hands, and loudly said;

"Hey! I’m looking for a special kid.”

All the toddlers froze in their spots before erupting in loud chaos that mixed in one full noise of a screamed «me! Pick me!». Sam's ears pulsed with pain. Thankfully it only took one lift of his gloved hand to silent the little shits. He squinted his eyes and began to talk in silence;

“I have heard he’s the bravest boy I’ve ever heard about..He helps people..He eats his snacks politely and shares his blocks.”

The kids began glancing at each other in confusion.

And then Spider-Man crouched slightly and raised his brow “Is there a..Vincent Monroe here?”

Silence. But then an unmistakable squeak; “ME??!” voice all lisped and full of stunned hope. Immediately he toddled forward, crossing all the other kids that gazed at him with kind of shock and envy. But his face didn't stop liting up like the sun, little fists curled tight like he was afraid it was a dream. Sam fought every single instinct to not scoop him up and sob on the floor with the best lil guy he had met.

“I was hoping you could hold my hand for a bit,” Spider-Man said, as gently as he could through the suit, hoping he buried the emotional side of his tone deep enough. “It gets scary in here without a brave boy like you.”

Vinnie’s bottom lip quivered from how serious he took it. He nodded in this big, eager way. He looked down at Spider-Man's extended gloved hand and slowly extended his own hand—warm, all puffy and soft Sam felt like crying.

“I been waitin’ fow you, Pidah-man.” he whispered with the shy smile

“Me too, buddy.” he nearly choked these words out “I came just for you.”

Later, when you came to pick vinnie up (after already knowing what happened; Sam tried not to cry through a phone call with you). After checking in, saying hi to all the parents you knew, you saw your toddler light up at the sign of your glowing face. He said his "bye bye" to occasional kids that he played with (and of course the day care lady) and run towards you like a drunk little penguin.

“Pidah-man said I was b-wave,” he whispered immediately after you wrapped your arms around him. “He said I help people like him.”

You gasped, "Really? Oh, sweetheart, that's amazing!"

He curled into your lap, holding his plastic spider toy tight.

“Do you think Thammy saw?”

“...Maybe he tell Thammy I was goo' boy?”

You kissed his cheek. “I think Sammy already knows, baby.”

“I think he’s real proud.”

#summer's reblogs .ᐟ #sam monroe #my man my man my man

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mvst4far · 2 months ago

Text

Owned by the Night 🐇

chapitre 1 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

AJ x Fem! Reader

Summary: AJ needs the perfect girl to help pull off a dangerous heist. They say behind every great man is a woman, and he’s just found her. Curvy, smart, and working the pole with secrets in her eyes, she’s everything he didn’t know he needed. But in this game, trust and safness are expensive… and desire might cost more than either of them can afford.

Warning: Smut, ice play, stripper!reader, chubby!reader, obsession, adult content (18+), mild violence.

Words Count: ~4k

Author's notes: Hi! English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes. and this is actually my first time writing a smut/sex scene. I was inspired by Janitor AI, so please be kind! I really hope you enjoy the story, it means a lot to me. If you have any thoughts, feedback, or suggestions, I’d love to hear them! Thank you for reading 🤍

divider by @enchanthings

Gordon stood at the head of the table, his hands planted firmly on either side of a large, worn-out map. The edges were torn, coffee-stained, and covered in scribbles, routes, escape plans, camera placements, and red-ink timestamps scrawled in his sharp handwriting.

Gordon: “Football match, boy band concert, and a protest … The cops are gonna be busy. If we do this right, we’ll have a window.

John, you’re on the lookout. If the police show up or shots get fired, you stay outside, engine running, ready to get us out early if needed.

AJ, you’re handling the cameras and security system. Quick and clean.

Jake, you stick with John.

Jesse, you’re coming inside with me.

Any questions?”

The room was thick with tension, like the calm before a thunderstorm. No one spoke. No one needed to. They all nodded silently, the weight of the job sinking in as they took quiet sips from their drinks, their eyes traveling all over the information on the table as they thought and planned their job, the risk, the money. It’s not their first time. They all knew their job: first and last, to keep each other safe and alive.

AJ leaned back in his chair, cigarette balanced between his fingers. His other hand held a glass of expensive whisky, half-melted ice clinking softly as he gulped down a sip of his drink. His eyes moved slow but sharp, scanning every inch of the map like he was reading between the lines.

AJ: “I need to know what kind of cameras and security systems they have so I can move fast. If it’s basic, I’m in and out. But if it’s smart tech… that’s another story.”

Jesse sat upright, arms crossed, his eyes squeezed in focus as he did the mental math. His foot tapped softly against the metal chair leg, counting beats, calculating seconds.

Jesse: “We’ll have about thirty minutes max before the nearest units get to the shop. Based on patrol routes and the emergency response speed, we’ve got 25–30 minutes before a squad car even gets close. The closest they can get without fire or injuries is 5 km away, that’s if they don’t bring in a helicopter.”

AJ flicked ash into a tray, breathing hard through his nose.

AJ: “Without knowing what system they’re using, I might need 15, even 20 minutes just to break through. That doesn’t leave us enough time to get in, grab the goods, and get out clean.”

Gordon straightened slowly, cracking his neck as his jaw tensed.

Gordon: “So what does that mean?”

AJ took another drag, now more serious, not scared, but troubled. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, voice low but firm.

AJ: “It means we need information before we go in. Cameras, alarm response times, maybe even their tech supplier. We need names. Models. Installation history. Something. Anything.”

John sat perched by the window, arms resting on the back of the chair he straddled backward. He wasn’t fidgety, just careful, watching the street like a man who'd seen too many jobs go sideways.

John: “Can’t we do a little recon? Drive by, see what we’re working with?”

Jesse shook his head, voice clipped, the muscles in his jaw twitching.

Jesse: “No chance. Only certified personnel are allowed near the big jewelry cases. They’ll clock us the second we get too close.”

Jake sat hunched forward, nervously rolling a coin between his fingers, a habit that only came out when things felt real. His eyes moves between Gordon and the map.

Jake: “So… what do we do?”

Gordon's answer came like a loaded gun, slow, cold, and final. He stepped back from the table just enough to stretch the tension in his shoulders.

Gordon: “We stalk the boss. Follow him for a week. Watch his routine. His habits. Where he goes. Who he talks to. Bet he slips up somewhere.

Jake, Jesse, that’s your job.”

He stared them down like he was daring them to object. No one did.

Gordon’s voice dropped lower:

“Then we move. End of the week.”

the smell of smoke, whisky, and sweat hung in the air like fog. Nobody smiled. Nobody made a joke. The crew nodded. No high-fives. No cocky grins. Just quiet, professional silence, the kind that hangs right before a storm.

The job was on.

They were in.

A week later

They were all back around the same table, ashtrays full, empty bottles lined up, the air thick with smoke and tension. Jess and Jake dropped a stack of photos onto the table. All eyes fell on them.

Jake said, flipping through the pics: “No family, no friends. Every night, same club. Drinks, poker, then he takes some girl from the club to a hotel room and disappears till morning.”

Jess smirked: “Easy. We get a girl to fuck him and plant a mic, maybe a camera or a GPS on his clothes.”

Gordon leaned forward, arms crossed over his chest: “Simple. Clean. We get what we need without tripping any alarms.”

Then without hesitation, they all turned and stared at AJ

He blinked, mid-sip of his whisky: “What?”

His thick Italian accent that could cut a tree filled his throat.

John was the first to speak, smirking like he’d been waiting: “Your job.”

“Why me?” AJ asked as he gave John a sideways look while arching his eyebrow, his eyes traveling to every man that was looking at him like it was an obvious answer.

Jake grinned: “Because you’re the walking cheat code to women’s pants, that’s why.”

Jesse laughed: “Your damn jawline gets more action than the rest of us put together.”

“Bullshit” AJ muttered, though the twitch of his mouth betrayed him.

“Oh come on” Jess said, nudging Jake. “All you have to do is smile a little, and girls go crazy. You start moving those hips? It's over.”

“Man’s dick probably has a fan club” Jake said, nearly choking on his drink as the table burst out laughing.

John raised his glass: “To AJ , the certified weapon of seduction.”

They all clinked glasses while AJ sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

“You all are out of your goddamn minds.”

“Yeah” Gordon said, deadpan. “But you’re the only one with a dick worth weaponizing.”

Another round of laughter.

AJ lit a cigarette, dragging slowly and acting annoyed, but the smirk gave him away.

“Fine. I’ll find someone. But we do this my way. No amateurs. No danger we can’t cover. She gets a cut.”

Jake raised a brow: “So thoughtful. All that charm and a conscience.”

“Maybe that’s why they keep coming back” Jesse said, smirking. “Not just the hips, huh? It’s the aftercare.”

“Fuck off” AJ said, flipping him off but still grinning.

Gordon pulled them back: “You’ve got three days. Then we move.”

AJ nodded, his voice lower now as he looked over a photo of the boss: “I’ll get us what we need.”

The room went quiet, not from doubt, but because they believed him.

Jake wasn’t done, though: “Make sure she’s hot. We don’t want you getting bored halfway.”

Jesse smirked: “Though knowing AJ, that probably means soft belly, thick thighs, curves that don’t quit…”

John chuckled: “Man’s got a type.”

AJ didn’t flinch, just took another drag from his cigarette like he was proud of it.

Jake leaned forward: “He sees a thick girl with a belly and a pretty smile, and suddenly he’s planning their wedding.”

“She touches his arm and laughs once, and he’s naming their kids” Jesse added.

Gordon watched AJ with an amused look: “At least he’s consistent.”

AJ exhaled slowly, flicking ash into the tray: “I like softness. I like warmth. I like women who look like they could knock me out and still let me fall asleep on their stomach after… I want my hand to be full of fatness like my wallet is full of money. Is that bad?”

Jake cackled: “You’re so whipped for the fatties, it’s unreal.”

AJ just smiled a little, tapping his glass: “And they deserve better than any of your ugly ass.”

John raised his drink: “To fat girls and the man who worships them.”

The laughter returned, loud and easy, the kind that came from comfort, from brotherhood, not cruelty.

Jesse grinned: “So I guess you already know who you’re looking for.”

AJ leaned back, cigarette glowing between his fingers, eyes sharp now as he stared at the map: “Oh, I know exactly what I’m looking for.”

And just like that, it was back to business.

The teasing died down, but the smirks stayed.

They all knew AJ wasn’t just going to find her, he was going to charm the hell out of her.

And with her help, they were going to bring a monster down.

That same night, AJ walked into the same club Jess and Jake had been visiting the boss all week. While they had been chasing shadows, he came looking for something real, something warm and soft. And he found it.

She was leaning against the bar, talking to someone, dressed in an outfit that barely covered anything. It left little to the imagination, and even less to hide. AJ's smirk widened as his pants grew tighter. She was nervous, he could read people like books, and it was written all over her body language. New girl. Probably hadn’t been here longer than a few days.

An hour later, he was sitting in one of the club’s private rooms, a plush round sofa wrapped around a low table, soft purple lights casting shadows across the red walls. He waited, calm but alert.

Then the door opened.

She stepped in, chubby hand holding his drink, nerves thick in her walk, but her curves swayed anyway. Oh yeah, she was definitely new.

“Hello, sir” she said, soft voice trembling slightly. “Thank you for choosing me. I hope you won’t regret it.”

He bit his lip. That voice, that softness, her nerves were almost sweet.

“Thank you, Bunny” he said, his Italian accent rich and thick, curling through the room like smoke.

The way she blushed at the nickname, he could tell she wasn’t used to kindness, not in here. She looked up at him, almost lost in his deep blue eyes, like she was already slipping into something warmer than her fear.

“Get on the table for me, Bunny.”

She snapped out of it, nodding quickly.

“Yes, sir” she whispered, climbing onto the table on her knees, facing him.

“What’s your name, Bunny?” he asked, still studying her like she was a rare painting, one-of-a-kind, priceless.

“I can’t tell you that, sir. People around here call me… Blueberry.”

“Blueberry, huh?” he smiled. “Cute little name for a sweet girl like you. Come closer, Bunny.”

He took a slow sip of his drink, reaching into his pocket for a few folded bills. A couple hundred, hoping it’s enough to calm a new girl’s nerves. She edged forward, and he stood to meet her halfway. His eyes dropped briefly to her chest, catching the edge of an old scar peeking from under her bra strap.

He reached out, slow, careful, but froze when his fingers brushed the scar. She flinched, pulling back.

They locked eyes. His sharp and intense, hers wide and unsure.

“You can’t touch me” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry…”

“And who’s gonna stop me?” he asked, tone curious, not threatening.

She looked away, clearly scared.

“There’s a camera. If you touch me, they’ll send in security.”

He chuckled softly, stepping back just enough to give her air.

“Nah, sweetheart. It’s not the cameras stopping me.”

His voice dropped, intimate:

“It’s your consent. Nothing else matters.”

She blinked, her fear cracking slightly, shifting into something closer to surprise… maybe even trust. He crooked a finger, motioning her forward. She obeyed.

“Good girl” he said low, brushing the edge of the money over the faint line of her scar. “Tell me, Bunny… who did this to you? Who dared to mark a body like yours?”

She swallowed hard.

“My first client,” she whispered. “He got angry when I told him he couldn’t touch me.”

He exhaled slowly, rage simmering beneath his calm exterior.

“Of course. Your body’s like a dessert for starving men, sweet, rich, made to be savored… not taken by force.”

He slid the money gently between her bra and that soft curve of skin spilling from the too-small top.

She glanced down.

“That’s… too much.”

“No. It’s not” he said, leaning back, smoke curling from his lips. “You deserve more than this place gives you.”

The scent bothered her, he noticed right away and put the cigarette out without another word.

“Tell me, doll. What can you do for me? What can I see? What are the rules?”

“No touching” she said quietly. “But… I can take things off. We can talk. Drink. I can dance for you… if you wish.”

“You can undress?” he asked, genuinely curious now.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Then start with your top, Bunny. Let me see you.”

Her hands shook slightly as she reached down, untying the baby-blue babydoll top. It slid down her thick arms and landed in a pool at her waist. She hesitated again, then reached behind, unclasped her bra, and let it fall to her lap, money slipping down with it.

He reached forward, picked up the bills, and set them aside. Then, his fingers slid over the lace of the bra, eyes still locked on hers.

“Can I?”

She nodded, lips parted slightly, her body still, obedient.

He brought the fabric to his nose, breathing her in with the care of a man savoring wine, not lusting over skin. She didn’t move, just watched him, her big brown bambi eyes locked on the tall, tattooed man who looked at her like she was the only softness in a cruel world.

His legs spread wider as he leaned back again, a king in his throne, hunger in his eyes.

She stayed kneeling, like a good girl, bare, soft, and waiting.

Her scent drifted toward him, sweet and warm, clinging to the soft fabric of the shining bra she’d just let fall. His eyes moved over her chest, gentle curves full and inviting, fitting perfectly in front of him like they were made to be held.

They sat obedient and plush, framed by pale lines of stretch marks that curled like quiet lightning across her skin, the silent testaments to time, change, and womanhood. Far from flaw, they only deepened her beauty. Her skin was wide and warm, like honey left in the sun.

A faint bronze line traced her shoulder where a tan had once been, and even that, to him, felt intimate, like a secret only he was allowed to see.

“How old are you, Bunny?” he whispered, rubbing the fabric of her bra. It wasn’t a soft fabric, her chest deserved softer material to hold those jellies.

She looked at him, a bit nervous, and whispered while glancing down to hide her face, “Twenty three.”

He smirked. She wasn’t supposed to give away personal information. His smile grew bigger. He leaned in, lips close to her ear, and whispered:

“You’re breaking rules for me, Bunny… Naughty Bunny. Should I punish you? Should I?”

His voice was low and teasing as she felt the brush of money against her skin.

“Lift your chest, love.”

She looked at him, nervous, but obeyed. Gently, he slid some bills beneath her breasts and let them fall back into place, keeping the money warm and hidden.

Then he returned to his seat. His eyes lingered on the sight of his money tucked under her soft chest, and he smiled.

“Pretty Bunny.”

After a moment of silence, as he admired that piece of art, he picked an ice cube from his drink.

her eyes widened as he brought it closer, a mix of fear and anticipation flashing across her face. She knew what was coming. and it made her pussy clench and drip with need. pressing the first cube against the firm peak of her nipple.

The sudden, shocking cold made her gasp and arch her back, her teeth sinking into her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. AJ just smirked, watching her squirm. He slowly let the ice cube melt on her nipple, feeling it soften and drip as it cooled her overheated skin.

he pressed the ice cube against her other nipple, letting it melt and drip down the swell of her massive tit. He could see shivers rising on her skin, could feel her convulse and shaking as the cold dripped into her bones.

AJ watched in amazement as her eyes rolled back in pure euphoria. He could hear her voice, a mix of whimpers and broken moans, all blending together in the most erotic symphony. The way she was squeezing her hands,her eyes, made his cock throb and leak pre cum in his boxers.

She was like a goddess in the soft purple light of that small room. “Lay down, Bunny” he said, his voice low but commanding.

She felt like she was in a fog, hesitant but drawn to him. Slowly, she lay back, her whole body gently shifting under him, soft curves catching the light as they moved.

“Open those big thighs” he whispered, “and show me that little pussy.”

She looked up, eyes wide and uncertain. She had never done anything like this before. Despite the hardness in his voice, his eyes were gentle, offering her the chance to say no, to stop him if she wanted.

After a pause, she parted her legs slightly, the high thigh socks hugging her softness like a tender embrace. Her breath hitched in the silence, but she gave him the trust to see what she held back.

slightly, with hesitation, she moves her fingers to her little baby blue underwear to the side, showing her fat fold, all wet. "That was just the warm-up, baby girl," he purred, grabbing an ice cube from the whisky glass. her eyes widened as he brought it closer to her dripping, sensitive cunt. She could feel the cold air hitting her overheated flesh, making her shudder and clench reflexively. AJ pressed the ice cube directly against her swollen, aching clit, the shocking cold making her cry out and jerk her hips. He could feel the little nub throbbing against the ice, pulsing with a life of its own as it desperately begged for more stimulation. He rubbed the cube in slow, soft circles, watching as it melted and dripped down to cover her folds and thighs.

"That's it, baby... let me feel this greedy cunt spasm on my fingers" AJ growled, his other hand reaching down to put some more money in her socks, while he ordered her to spread her lips apart.

open those fat lips for me bunny”

He could see her hole clenching and winking, the silky pink walls shining with her arousal.

With a smirk, he pressed the ice cube right inside her entrance, feeling it melt and trickle along her velvety walls. AJ watched in admiration as her body convulsed and shook, her massive tits jiggling like jello as she came undone from just the teasing touch of the ice cube on her sensitive hole. He could feel her pussy clamping down on nothing, greedy and hungry for something to milk, to squeeze and clench around.

The sight of her shaking and moaning, completely lost in pleasure, made his painfully hard cock throb and leak even more. "That's my good girl, cumming on command like a proper little slut" he praised, his voice dripping with lust and satisfaction.

He could see the heavily look playing out across her face, could feel the way her body trembled and quaked with the force of her release

he finally pulled back, admiring his work as he took in the sight of her utterly wrecked body. He could see the way her massive tits heaved with each labored breath, her skin slick with a sheen of sweat, ice water and arousal.

“Good girl… good Bunny” he said softly, his voice low like a secret. “So soft… so good. I’ve never seen anything more heavenly than this.”

He paused, his gaze heavy with hunger.

“I wish I could touch that beautiful, fat body…”

He pulled back, letting her rest and catch her breath. Quietly, he reached for his wallet and took out a stack of bills. Gently, he filled her sock with hundreds, continuing to praise her in a soft voice, the only aftercare he could offer since he wasn’t allowed to touch her.

When she slipped back into her clothes and sat up, tears slid down her cheeks — not from pain, but from the overwhelming intensity of her release.

He took a fresh bill and carefully wiped her tears away.

“You did so good, Bunny” he whispered, his voice tender.

He handed her a glass of water and made sure she drank. Then, without a word, he placed his jacket around her shoulders, warm, heavy, comforting, like protection made of him.

She was still in her underwear, soft baby-blue lace clinging to her curves, the straps of her bra fallen loose on her shoulder. Her bra, her panties, even the tops of her thigh-high socks were stuffed with folded bills, thick and quiet like offerings. They peeked out from every edge and strap.

He rested beside her, close but not touching, letting her body settle next to his. They passed the drink between them in silence, not lovers, not strangers, just two people in a quiet, shared room. Her skin glowed, and the weight of the money, the jacket, the moment, it all seemed to hold her in place.

She looked down at the money scattered across her body — tucked into her bra, her underwear, her thigh-high socks. Her voice was shaky, exhausted, barely above a whisper.

“This is… too much. These are hundreds, I can’t accept that…”

AJ met her gaze, his tone firm but kind. “It’s all for you. Don’t worry about it. You deserve it.”

She opened her mouth to protest again, but he gently cut her off.

“Go get yourself whatever you want. Eat something real. Fill that beautiful fat ass for me. Get better clothes, softer ones, ones that treat your skin the way it deserves to be. It’s your job, after all. And I won’t let you starve or struggle for money. Not while I’m here.”

“But…”

“No buts, Bunny” he said softly. “Be a good girl berry.”

She blinked slowly, her lips curling into the smallest, shyest smile. “Thank you, sir…”

He leaned in, brushing his lips near her ear.

“AJ” he said. “Call me AJ”

She tilted her head slightly, cheeks pink. “AJ?”

“For Alexander Junior” he whispered.

She giggled, eyes wide with surprise. “Oh… I thought it was for Alejandro.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich in her ear. “You’re not the first to think that.”

The hour ended. AJ got up and left, even though he didn’t want to. His chest felt tight. It hurt to walk away from her, that soft girl. He didn’t want anyone else to touch her.

But the time was up, he couldn't have more of her.

He waited outside. He wanted to see her again, the real her, not just the girl from the room. About 50 minutes later, she came out the back door. She wore big, warm clothes. Her face was clean, with no makeup. She looked soft. Sweet. Real.

She didn’t see him. The street was dark, barely any lights. But like most women, she felt something wasn’t right. She looked around and started to walk faster.

AJ followed. At first, slowly. Then he picked up speed.

She started running.

So did he.

He was faster. He caught up and reached for her arm.

She turned quickly and grabbed a small spray can from her coat. It made a loud hiss as the pepper spray hit him straight in the face.

“Shit!” he yelled, falling back. His eyes burned like fire. He dropped to his knees, hands covering his face, pain shooting through him.

She ran.

He stayed there in the street, whispering curses, eyes full of tears, trying to breathe.

Thirty minutes later

He sat at the gang's usual bar. John puts a wet cloth pressed to his swollen, red eyes.

John poured a drink and slid it over with a smirk. “So… you think she’s the one?”

AJ winced and wiped his face. “Yeah. Fuck… my eyes.”

John laughed. “It’s your job to get close to her, man. You’ve got two days. If you don’t, Gordon’s gonna break your neck.”

AJ took the drink and finished it in one gulp.

“She’s worth it.”

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