tothisfeeling - Tumblr blog

[tothisfeeling]

hiii, how are you? could you please write prompt 1B with Amber Freeman x fem reader? idk if adding an action prompt makes it easier for u and if it does then maybe B1 :))

hiii!! I’m good love, thank u sm for asking!! <<33 I could fs write it! (The action prompt does make it easier so thank u <3) hope u like it!

Eleven Minutes in Heaven~ Amber Freeman x fem! Reader

Summary: 7 minutes in Heaven with Amber gets spicy, and she requests more time.

Warnings: SMUT, fem x fem, fingering, oral, dom! Amber, slightly public sex, swearing

Amber’s parties were always fun, but also always crazy. Most of the people had left now, leaving you and the rest of your friend group: Amber herself, Tara, Wes, Chad, Mindy, and Liv. You were all going to hang out for a while longer, and the collective boredom had reached a peak when everyone agreed on playing Seven Minutes In Heaven.

Basic rules: person A spins the bottle so it lands on person B. They then go into the closet with person B for 7 minutes. Whatever happens, happens. Whatever doesn’t, doesnt. You weren’t too worried about it.

However, someone else was. Amber had the biggest crush on you for the longest time ever, and now she knows she can make you hers. She was going to get you in that closet, and you were going to walk out as a couple. She just knew it.

So when the bottle landed perfectly on you when she spun, she knew it was in her favor. The two of you walked to the closet, Wes setting the timer with the joking warning of “use protection!” that was followed by a chorus of laughter.

“That statement makes total sense for two girls,” Amber stated, rolling her eyes, then looking you up and down. God, she loved you in that outfit. But she’d love you more with it on the ground, and you against the wall while she finger fucks you, clenching around her rings, your tight cunt eager and ready for her-

“Amber? Ambs? Hey, hellooooo, you there?” You asked confusedly, unaware of Ambers dirty thoughts about the two of you.

“Hm?” Amber asked dazedly, returning back to reality from her daydream.

You laughed lightly. “You zoned out for a while. Whatcha thinking about, making out with me?” You teased jokingly. “We do gotta use protection though!”

“Maybe I was,” Amber stated boldly.

You laughed nervously. “Maybe you were what, exactly, Amber?”

“Maybe I was thinking about making out with you,” she clarified, smirking and taking a step towards you. You swallowed, taking a step back. The process repeated until you were against the wall, Amber right in front of you. “Hm? Would you like that, baby?”

“Uh-um… yeah, actually,” you said nervously. Amber grinned, knowing she had you. She immediately stepped quickly towards you, pinning you against the wall and grabbing your face in her hands, kissing you fiercely.

Amber took control quickly, pinning you against the wall and slipping your shorts down and underwear to the side. Gently, she started rubbing your clit. She brought her damp fingers to her lips, sucking on them. “You taste so good baby… can I have another taste?” She asked sweetly.

“F-fuck- yes, Amber, please,” you begged, pussy clenching around air, desperate to be touched. Amber slid down, holding the back of your knees firmly as she gently pulled you down until you were sitting on a bucket. She spread your legs before burying her face in your cunt like it would be her last meal.

She swirled her tongue around your clit, moaning softly. “God, baby, I love how you taste~ mm, if I were on death row, I’d ask for you to be my last meal.”

You moaned loudly at that, squeezing your thighs around her head. “Shh, baby, you don’t want to let them know what I’m doing to you right now, do you?” She grinned wickedly, before re-immersing herself in your cunt.

She gently traced a finger down your folds, teasing your hole gently before pushing in softly. You shoved your fist in your mouth, moaning around that. “Such a good girl for me, such a pretty pussy,” she praised.

That’s when the door started to swing open, before hitting the chair Amber had strategically placed there. “Times up you nasty freaks! We could all hear what you’re doing!” Wes yelled.

“4 more minutes! 11 minutes in Heaven!” Amber called back before continuing to eat you out.

“F-fuck! Yeah, four more minutes, please!” You yelped breathlessly, back arching into Ambers mouth as you drew closer to orgasm.

“Eleven minutes in Heaven it is then, disgusting!” Wes declared, shutting the door loudly to a loud chorus of boos, but you barely heard them. All you could think about was Amber, her touch, her mouth, her actions, how close she was getting you…

“Amber! Shit, I’m close! I’m gonna cum!” You moaned, pulling her closer. Amber hummed softly, making you moan again at the feeling of the vibration on your clit.

“Go on, baby. Cum for me, be a good girl,” Amber purred seductively, smirking up at you as she thrust her fingers in and out of you, hitting your g-spot.

Almost immediately, your legs clamped down on her head, beginning to shake. A whine was dragged out of you as your orgasm crashed down on you heavily. Eyes rolling back in your head as Amber pumped her fingers in and out of you slowly, letting you ride out your high, but pulling out once you finished.

“God, Amber that was…” you began.

“Amazing? I know. Wanna be my girlfriend?” Amber asked smoothly, slurping your remaining juices off her fingers, grabbing a rag to wipe off your legs gently.

“Uh… you know what? Yeah. I would love to be your girlfriend, Amber Freeman,” you declared proudly.

Amber leaned up to kiss you sloppily, lower face still soaked from you. “Perfect baby. That was my plan all along.”

[tothisfeeling]

One year since MoM? Here’s a wip of her

[tothisfeeling]

more jock/fuckboy Amber PLEASE i'm begging you 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

You were heading back to the locker rooms after cheerleading practice had ended about half an hour ago. However, the coach asked to speak with you, so it took some extra time before you could reach the locker room. By the time you finally got there, everyone else had already left.

As you were placing your cheerleading uniform in your backpack, having already changed, a voice caught your attention from behind.

"Hey there," Ethan said, his tone dripping with flirtation.

Ethan was the co-captain of the football team, known for being friendly and well-liked by everyone. You used to think he was nice too, until a couple of weeks ago when you turned down his advances. Since then, things had become uncomfortable. Ethan's behavior had taken a strange and intense turn whenever you were alone, making you feel nervous and unsafe in his presence.

"Hey Ethan," you replied, forcing an uncomfortable smile while hastily packing your things to leave as quickly as possible.

"Didn't cheerleading practice end like half an hour ago? What are you doing here?" He asked with curiosity, stepping closer towards you.

"Yeah, practice ended a while ago," you answered, trying to keep your tone casual. "I just had a talk with the coach, so I got delayed."

"Oh, I see," Ethan responded. "Well, since I'm heading home too, I can give you a ride if you'd like."

"Oh, no, Ethan, don't worry about it," you said, your voice wavering slightly. "I appreciate the offer, but it's just a few blocks, and I could use the walk. It was nice seeing you though."

You made your way toward the door, hoping to exit the situation, but Ethan suddenly positioned himself between you and the door, blocking your path. Your heart rate increased, and you felt a surge of unease.

"Come on," he insisted, his tone becoming more insistent. "I don't mind at all. It'll be fun, I promise."

You tried to remain composed, but the situation was making you increasingly uncomfortable. "I appreciate the offer, Ethan, but really, it's okay. I'd rather just walk. I don't want to bother you."

You hoped he would understand and let you go, but the persistent look on his face made you even more apprehensive.

"You wouldn't bother me at all," he said, his hand inching closer toward your arm, disregarding your clear refusal.

But before he could make contact, a sharp voice cut through the tension, causing both of you to turn in surprise. "Don't fucking touch her," Amber's voice rang out, as she swiftly slapped Ethan's hand away from you. "Didn't you hear her? She doesn't want your ride. Back off."

Ethan seemed taken aback by Amber's sudden intervention, his expression shifting from persistence to annoyance. You felt a surge of relief that Amber had stepped in just in time to diffuse the situation.

"Hey, Freeman," Ethan responded, attempting to mask his annoyance with a smile. "Chill out, I was just offering her a ride, no big deal," he said nonchalantly.

"Well, she doesn't need one, so get the fuck out of here," Amber snapped back, her tone firm and unwavering. Ethan knew better than to mess with Amber, aware of her reputation. Reluctantly, he obeyed without further protest.

"See you around, Y/n," Ethan smiled at you, though it felt forced, and then turned around, exiting the locker rooms. You let out a sigh of relief, grateful for Amber's intervention.

Amber turned to you, concern etched on her face. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine care.

You nodded, a small smile forming. "Yeah, Ambs, thank you."

Amber's gaze shifted to your bare shirt, and she immediately took off her bomber jacket. "Here," she said, gently placing it on your shoulders. "It's getting cold outside. Put this on." Without waiting for your protest, she made sure the jacket was securely wrapped around you. The familiar scent of her surrounded you, bringing a sense of comfort.

She then grabbed your bag with one hand, interlacing her fingers with yours in the other. Tenderly, she placed a small kiss on the back of your hand. "Let's go. I'll drive you home."

You smiled and nodded in agreement. Hand in hand, you walked out of the locker rooms together.

[tothisfeeling]

no strings attached...right?

pairing: amber freeman x reader

summary: in which something arises that halts your friends with benefits situation with amber

warnings: very loosely implied sexual content

word count: 1140+

author's note: this was a request by an anon! hope they, and you guys, enjoy!

college au!

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow night?” Amber asked as she slipped her sweatshirt over her head, words coming out muffled as her mouth was covered by the material. Once she was dressed, she twisted to look at you, an eyebrow raised in question.

“Uh, sure,” you said, voice soft.

She furrowed her eyebrows, frowning. “Is something wrong?”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and glanced away, cowering a bit beneath the raven-haired girl’s intense stare. “I just…think that maybe we should…take a break?” you said hesitantly, meeting her eyes again.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t really know if this”--you gestured between the two of you--“is working.”

Amber squinted her eyes, confused. “I think it’s been just fine the past three months,” she said sharply. “Why do you wanna ruin a good thing?”

“I--I don’t want to ruin it, but…well…” You hesitated, counted to three in your head, and then blurted everything out all at once. “We said no strings attached when we started this, which was perfectly fine at the time, but after spending so much time with you, I’ve started to develop feelings,” you admitted, a blush beginning at your collarbones and rising to tint your cheeks pink.

“Oh.” She cleared her throat, and you watched her gaze harden. “You’re right. We should take a break, then. Or, actually, just stop altogether.” She nodded once, though you weren’t sure if it was to you or herself, and then stood from your bed, quickly gathering her things from where she had left them when she arrived.

“We could still hang out?” you suggested meekly, but Amber shook her head.

“Probably best if we don’t,” she said. “I’ll…see you around, maybe.”

The door slammed shut behind her, and you were left nude in bed, your sheet covering your body. Tears threatened to escape your eyes and you fell back, throwing an arm over your face to stop them. You muttered, “Fuck,” when you realized you had just lost Amber, and most likely for good.

* * *

A week passed, and you didn’t see Amber once. Granted, you were doing everything in your power to avoid her: you took the longest route on your way to classes; you avoided the cafe by your apartment because you knew she frequented it; you turned in the opposite direction whenever you saw anyone with dark, dark hair and pale skin. Though you missed her more than you had ever missed anyone before, a sharp and distinct pain ran through your bones whenever you thought about her and the way things had ended, and you knew that seeing her would more than likely end with you in tears…again.

Besides, it wasn’t like she was making any effort to see you, anyway. There had been no texts from her--a fact that you were horribly aware of, as you went onto your message thread with her every night, searching for what, you weren’t sure--or calls, or anything. Everything was silent on her end, and so you made sure it was quiet on yours.

Or, at least, everything was silent on her end, until you found yourself in front of your television again with a pint of ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other, watching a shitty Netflix rom-com, when a heavy knocking began on the door of your apartment.

You paused the movie, called out a wary, “Who is it?”, and jumped where you sat when Amber’s voice came through the wood: “It’s me.”

You hurriedly placed both spoon and ice cream on the coffee table and stood from the couch, the blanket that had been wrapped around you falling to the ground, and then, in your haste, you proceeded to trip over said blanket. You cursed as your foot got stuck in it and sprang forward when you finally wormed your way out, nearly face-planting into the door.

Once you were steady, you inhaled deeply, trying to mentally prepare yourself to see Amber again. You clenched your eyes shut, counted to three in your head, and then whipped the door open before you got the chance to back down.

There she stood, in all her glory--the raven-haired girl that had infiltrated your mind. She looked at you with a small smile, but her eyes and body language were radiating nervousness, and you furrowed your eyebrows. Amber always radiated confidence; it was one of the first things that had drawn you to her.

“Could I…come in?” she asked carefully, like she was afraid that if she were too sharp or sudden with her words you would slam the door in her face.

“Okay,” you said, opening the door wider so that she could slip inside. You shut the door behind her once she was inside and then turned around, swallowing heavily and shoving your hands into your sweatpant pockets. “What’s up?”

Her eyes flitted around the room quickly before they settled on you, and she bit at the inside of her cheek. “I’ve been doing some thinking,” she said, “and…I miss you.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Oh.”

Amber sighed. “Well, I guess I more than miss you.”

“What does that mean?” you asked.

“It means”--she exhaled harshly, cheeks puffing up as she did--“that I--I realized, in our time apart, that I’ve…developed feelings for you, too,” she rushed out.

You could feel your heart stop for a moment, and you simply stared at her. Silence enveloped the room for a moment as a thousand different feelings surged through you all at once, your chest warming up at the confession and your fingertips going numb, and then, oh-so elegantly, you said, “What.”

“Don’t make me repeat it,” she said, and it was like that nervous stranger that had first walked through your front door had disappeared and normal-Amber was back. “I know you heard me.”

“So, you want--”

“A relationship,” Amber finished, and then added quickly, “that is, if I haven’t pushed you away entirely.” Her eyes shone with something new that you had never seen before: vulnerability.

You smiled, softly at first and then widely, unable to hold back the excitement that was welling up in your stomach. “Okay,” you agreed, nodding. “A relationship is perfectly fine with me.”

And then you were stumbling backward into the wall, Amber pushed against you with her arms thrown around your waist and her head resting on your chest, and you were encompassed by the scent of her perfume and shampoo. You wrapped your own arms around her shoulders gently, pulling her further into you and sighing in contentment.

It was quiet, peaceful, and then you heard--or rather felt--her say into your chest, “Tell anyone I was this excited about getting together and I’ll break up with you.”

You giggled softly into her hair before pressing a kiss to her head. “Ever the bad-ass, hmm?”

[tothisfeeling]

[tothisfeeling]

amber is a lesbian to me and lesbians are unkillable. so

[tothisfeeling]

all hers, part xviii

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii

summary: R and the Scooby-gang put into place their Ghostface trap.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, violence, murder.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: thought it was time for the GF reveal! were you right? wrong? idk, let me know!

You make it to the school in the passenger seat of Sam’s car without speaking the entire journey. 

You feel hollow. Like the world is crumbling around you, and Sam must feel it too. Her grip on the wheel is tight, sturdy, like she knows exactly what she has to do now. 

What you both have to do now. 

Get him. Kill him. For Tara. 

Mindy’s waiting outside the school when you pull up. 

She peers into the backseat, looking for Tara, looking a little confused when she can find her. 

“Where’s Tara?” Mindy asks.

Sam brushes her off. 

“Change of plan. Tara isn’t coming. It’s just us.”

Mindy’s eyes widen. 

“Sam,” She says, voice slow. Her eyes dart to you, “We can’t do this without Tara.” 

“Tara isn’t coming,” Sam stresses, “And we need to do this. For Tara, do you understand?” 

Mindy blinks. She fidgets with her phone. 

“I’m going to call her first and check.” She eyes you, no doubt terrified of the consequence if something were to happen to you. Tara isn’t shy about her love for you, and she certainly isn’t shy about what would happen to anyone who ever hurt you. 

“She’s been arrested,” You say, voice impatient, “She won’t pick up. The only way to help her is to catch this guy.” 

Mindy gawps. 

“She’s been arrested?”

“There’s no time,” Sam says, urgently, “Mindy, come on. YN, go to detention.” 

She puts her hands on your shoulders, squeezes tight. 

“And good luck.” 

-

The plan is so stupidly simple, yet there are about a hundred ways it can go wrong. 

You run through them on your way to detention, mind whirling, barely having the strength to put one foot in front of the other. 

Firstly, the band of so-called Ghost-face protectors is possibly the worst collaboration of people in the entire school to do the job. Chad’s a meathead. Liv, his ditzy companion. Mindy is all ludicrous theories and useless horror film knowledge, and you’re either so small or so weak your hundred pound, five foot one girlfriend can put you on your back without so much as breaking a sweat. 

Your only saving grace, it seems, is Sam. 

You’d left her with Mindy, shotgun in hand, dressed in a tank top and a pair of old ripped jeans, looking very much like she’s about to rip through a horde of zombies, rather than take on a single Ghostface. 

The only bright side to this awful situation is you no longer have to worry about Tara at the end of Ghostface’s knife. But the alternative - Tara locked in a jail cell for the rest of her life, is almost as bad. 

Principal Garcia greets you, looking very much like he’d rather be anywhere else on his Saturday off. Sam had called ahead about Tara and he either doesn’t care, or can’t be bothered to ask how she is. 

Instead, he sits at the front of the classroom, peering down at a newspaper through his spectacles as you settle into the front desk, nervously tapping your foot against the ground. 

Your eyes draw to the clock on the wall. 

The quiet click. The sound of Principal Garcia flipping his newspaper every now and then. Your heart is in your throat and it’s pounding so loud it drowns out almost everything else. 

This has to work. 

It if doesn’t - you’re fucked. 

You look behind you, to the closets lining the back of the room and pray Chad and Liv are already in there. You have one of Sam’s handguns in your backpack. You keep it on your lap, resting your hand on it, needing it close. 

Minutes pass. 

Ten. Twenty. Thirty. 

No sign of Ghostface. 

Your eyes glance up at the clock once more. 

You swallow. Start to think maybe this entire foolhardy plan is all for nothing. 

And then you see it. 

Through the crack of glass in the door, the bone-white of the mask. The long, black mouth. The hood. And before you can so much as cry out - Ghostface is ramming into the classroom, his knife raised. 

You scream. 

Principal Garcia’s head jerks around. 

Ghostface’s movements are steady, calculated. He rushes forward and in one easy swing, he slashes his knife towards Principal Garcia and slashes through his raised forearm.

“Sam!” You cry out. 

Ghostface’s head whips around to look at you. Principal Garcia crumbles to the ground, gasping, holding his bloodied arm. 

The cabinets burst open. 

Chad and Liv stumble out. Chad lets out what can only be described as a war-cry and charges forward, taking Ghostface off guard and tackling him to the ground. 

You stand, hands shaky as you reach for the pistol in your backpack. You click the safety off and raise it. Chad has Ghostface pinned down. The knife in his hands clatters to the ground. 

You squint, heart pounding as you try to find the shot. But their bodies are entwined, Chad’s grip on Ghostface lessening slightly as Ghostface juts his head upwards and smacks it into Chad’s. 

Chad cries out. 

Ghostface musters the strength to shake Chad off. 

You fire out a shot. 

But your grip isn’t steady. Your aim all over the place. The bullet whizzes past Ghostface and lodges itself into the blackboard. 

Ghostface reaches for his knife and stands. He’s tall, menacing. He steps closer. 

“Sam!” You cry out. 

The mask tilts. The knife in his hands gleaming. He takes another step closer, confident. Like he knows you’ll miss again. 

“Don’t come any closer, asshole.” Liv says. You feel her behind you, at your shoulder, “Shoot him, YN!” 

You fire again. 

And miss. 

All those practices with your Dad. All those bottles you’d blown clean open have nothing on the real thing. The adrenaline is too much. The fear of him is too much. 

“Where’s your girlfriend, YN?” He taunts. He flashes the knife, stepping closer once more. Another step and he’d be close enough to disarm you. You stumble back, gun in your hand shaking madly. 

“Guess she’s finally getting what she deserves,” He says, “And now I’m going to give you what you deserve.” 

The classroom door rams open once again. 

It draws both of your attention. It’s Sam, Mindy at her side. Her shotgun is drawn, her eyes blazing. 

“Back up asshole,” Sam says, voice even. Her hand isn’t shaking, she’s calm. Steady. You know she won’t miss. 

“Take off that mask and I won’t blow you bit from bit,” She says. She moves a little closer. 

If Ghostface knows he’s cornered, he doesn’t act like it. He turns from you like you’re not a threat, looks over to Sam and tuts at her. 

“Sam, Sam, Sam.” Ghostface says, “So protective. Such a good sister. I wonder if you’d still protect her if you knew. If you knew what sweet baby-Tara did in her spare time.” 

Sam cocks the gun. 

“Last chance,” She growls, “I won’t ask again.”

The adrenaline in your body evens out. Your heartbeat slows, the determination in your eyes settles. You steady your hands, knowing what you have to do. 

Sam wants him alive. Sam wants him to see justice. 

But if he’s alive, he can talk. 

If he’s alive he’ll tell everyone what Tara’s done. And you can’t have that. 

You lift your gun, only slightly. You close one eye, the way your Dad had taught you. 

You feel ethereal. Out of body. This is what Tara must feel like when she does it. Vision tunneled, like there’s only one thing in the world you want to do. 

And then you shoot a bullet right into Ghostface’s chest. 

Liv screams. 

The sound of the gun firing leaves your ears ringing. 

Sam blinks, startled, as Ghostface stumbles back, clutching the bloodied hole in his chest. 

He crumples to the ground, right next to Principal Garcia, gasping. 

You charge forward, kicking the knife out of his hands. 

There’s only one thing on your mind. You have to know who it is. You have to see his face before you blow it clean off. 

You lean down and rip the mask off the fuckers face. 

Liv gasps. Chad gawps. 

Sam’s grip on the shotgun wavers. 

You blink down in surprise. 

It’s Richie.

His eyes are wild, hazy. Blood pours thick and fast out of the bullet wound in his chest. The look in his eyes is terrifying. Pure hatred, hatred of you. Hatred of Tara. His mouth opens like he wants to speak, but he’s too injured. He’s moments from death, you can see it in his face.

Sam almost drops her gun. She sinks back, caught only by Mindy who steadies her shoulders. 

You swallow, mind racing. 

All those nights with him, the games with him. He’d slept only doors down from you and Tara. Tara had been so insistent it was him and you hadn’t listened. Because it didn’t make sense. 

Why?

He’s dead before he can give you an answer. 

“Holy shit.” Chad murmurs. His hands grip Liv’s shoulders. He looks to you, wide-eyed, “Are you alright?”

There’s a frog in your throat. You clear it once, twice, unable to take your eyes off the man who had tormented you for the past few weeks. 

“He didn’t get me.” You say. You suddenly remember Principal Garcia and look over to him. He’s clutching his arm, eyes as wide as everyone else's, but other than the gash, he looks okay. 

“Sam,” You murmur, looking over to her. 

Her face is white, no doubt her entire world crumbling around her. 

“Sam, are you okay? We need to call the police.” 

“They’re on their way,” Mindy says, rubbing Sam’s back, “I called them preemptively. Thought we might need them.” 

You place your gun on one of the desks, move over to where Sam is sitting. You crouch down, rest your hands on the tops of Sam’s thighs.

“Sam,” You say, “It’s over. It’s going to be okay. This is going to save Tara.” 

Sam blinks back at you but she’s barely there. She looks as though she might pass out. 

“Sam,” You promise, “It’s over.” 

-

The police arrive not five minutes later. 

The Sheriff blazes through the halls, stares wide-eyed at Richie’s dead body, Ghostface mask clattered next to him. 

They take your statements, one by one. 

Mindy tells them in great detail about the plan to capture him. Principal Garcia is rushed off to hospital to treat his arm. Sam sits quietly, not uttering a word until she’s spoken to. 

“My sister-” She says, voice hoarse. She’s blinking, slow, “You’re going to let her go now?”

The Sheriff pauses. 

“It’s not that simple, Sam,” She says, “We have witnesses- she was the last person to see my son alive-”

“That doesn’t mean shit,” Snaps Sam. She gestures to Richie’s body, “We’ve given you him. Clear as day. He framed my sister and you need to let her go.” 

Sheriff Hicks considers this. 

She looks over at Richie’s body, a little mournful, “If you’d kept him alive we could have interrogated him and cleared Tara’s name for good-” 

“It was self-defense.” Liv says, immediately, “He came at YN and the only way she could protect herself was by killing him. Right guys?” 

Mindy and Chad nod in unison. 

Sheriff Hicks stares at you. 

“Why would he kill my son?” She asks, and it’s urgent. Her eyes flitter, a mesh of grief and sorrow and confusion, “He didn’t even know him. Why would he kill him?”

“I don’t know.” You say. You swallow, “I’m sorry, Sheriff Hicks.” 

She stares back at you a moment. 

Then she’s nodding, blinking away the array of emotions she’d briefly allowed you to see. 

“That’s for me to figure out,” She says. She looks over at Sam, “We’ll release Tara. But Sam - that doesn’t mean she still isn’t a suspect. If we find any link between them-”

“There’s no link.” Sam says, “My sister is innocent.” 

The Sheriff nods. 

“I’ll call the station.” 

She moves over to speak to another officer. The relief on Sam’s face is palpable. You squeeze her thigh, mirror her relief with yours. 

Tara’s coming home. You’d given the police what they wanted - a suspect to pin the murders on. She’d come home and you’d kiss her and hold her and never let her go again. Your veins flood with dopamine, the nicest high you could possibly imagine. 

Tara’s safe. 

But Mindy's frowning. You move over to her, frowning a little. 

“What is it?” You ask. 

Mindy turns to you, the look in her eyes urgent. 

“Richie was there that night,” She says, “The night Tara was attacked. He was there with you and he wasn’t Ghostface. Not that night.” 

You blink. 

Mindy seizes your arm. 

“There’s two, YN,” She says, “There’s fucking two of them.” 

And your blood runs cold. 

[tothisfeeling]

sam who moves to new york and is still too emotionally raw to start dating again. what happened with richie in woodsboro leaving her with enough mental and physical scars to make her nearly gag at the thought of romance.

doesn't mean she can't still fuck someone on occasion, though.

in the back of her head she's known that she wasn't completely straight, clear by the way she'd feel her cheeks warm seeing the cheerleaders at a football game or the way she could never make eye contact with the cute transfer student in freshman year. but with everything happening with her dad - who apparently wasnt her dad - and her mom, she pushed the thoughts away and decided to just numb everything.

but with the move to new york, working two shitty jobs, and becoming overprotective of her sister who she can tell is getting sick of her shit, she needs something to help her take the edge off.

(she tried buying and using that damn rose toy she'd been hearing about, but it was too noisy and she couldnt risk quinn walking in and teasing her for a damn month about it again.)

so one night after her shift she visits some bar she'd heard a customer talking about, walking in and ordering herself a drink before mingling with a few of the other patrons. after about an hour she's ready to head home before she makes eye contact with you.

she'd feel slightly embarrassed about the thoughts in her head while looking at you but the alcohol is clouding her mind. not cloudy enough to stop her from walking over to you, inviting you to dance with her and feeling you up while doing so. you ask her if she wants to go back to yours and she smiles.

she's afraid to say its the best sex she's ever had. when she slept with richie he always insisted on being on top, spouting some bullshit she couldnt recognize back then as him wanting to control her, probably hoping one day that she'd snap. but the memories exit her mind when she has you moaning and squealing under her, thrusting her fingers in and out of your pussy until you're squirting and then sitting on your face as she eats you out. when you tell her about the double ended dildo in your bedside drawer she feels like shes on cloud nine.

its early in the morning that she wakes up, carefully putting her clothes back on before looking at your sleeping figure. she stands for a minute before getting the rest of her stuff, and against her better judgement, leaves a note on your fridge.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

call me . - sam

[tothisfeeling]

can you do a blurb about jock/fuckboy amber driving you home after a party?

YOU were already quite tipsy, chatting and laughing with your group of friends. not long after, the alcohol had numbed your senses to the point where you didn't notice the drunken guy who was standing right in front of you, clearly trying to flirt. you just stared at him with your blurry vision and a silly smile, nodding your head as he spoke to you.

suddenly, he took a step forward, clearly attempting to kiss you. to your luck, you felt someone grip your arm tightly and swiftly pull you away from him. "we're leaving, i’m driving you home." was all you heard before being dragged out of the house and placed inside a black 2023 ford mustang.

amber had been observing the entire interaction from afar. she was seating between two girls from the cheerleading team, her arm draped around their shoulders. but despite their evident interest in her, she couldn't help but fixate on you and scrutinize your every move.

"i don’t like it when you talk to other guys," she said nonchalantly, her gaze fixed on the road.

"yeah right," you chuckled, “you're such a great role model yourself, amber. i mean, you practically had the entire cheerleading team lining up for you today," you retorted sarcastically.

as soon as those words left your mouth, she abruptly pulled over on the street, swiftly maneuvering the steering wheel. she leaned closer to you, forcefully gripping your chin with her right hand, turning your gaze towards her as her left hand rested provocatively on your upper thigh.

"let me make one thing clear, okay?" her hazel eyes gazed deeply into yours. "no matter who the fuck you see me with, where you see me at, or what the hell i feel like doing, you are mine and mine alone," she declared as she chewed on her words, her liquored-minty breath brushing against your face. her hand moved from your chin to your cheek, gently caressing your lower lip with her thumb, exerting a slow and intense pressure. she stared at it with desire before returning her hand to its original position, turning your face to the right. she brought her lips closer to your neck, her cold breath contrasting with your warm skin, and proceeded to deliver slow, wet kisses to it. "do you understand me, baby?" she asked with a low voice, continuing to shower your neck with kisses.

"y-yes," you grunted in a whisper, trembling under her mouth. "i understand," you said desperately, now focusing on amber's hand resting on your thigh.

"good," she said, abruptly moving away from you. she used the hand that had been resting on your thigh to open the car door, which snapped you out of your daze with a groaning moan, making you realize that you were already parked in front of your house.

"be ready for tomorrow. i'll pick you up at 7:45 am sharp for school," she declared, leaving you with no room for negotiation. she planted a loose, wet kiss on your lips before commanding you to exit her car with an unwavering gaze. with a lingering look, you walked towards the front door, the remnants of tipsiness now completely gone.

once you stepped inside your house, amber drove away, leaving you to your own thoughts.

[tothisfeeling]

Can I request the most cheesy one bed trope with fem!reader x Amber Freeman fluff? Maybe they all have a movie night before? 💙

I love, love, love Amber freeman so yes. I have a thing against one bed trope because it happened to me but I will give you this Anon🫶🏻

Amber freeman x Fem!reader

Warnings : my writing, softy soft amber

A little closer

You sat quietly in the dark room. Eyes reading over the words with the little lighting you had from the dim street lamp. The only sounds heard are the quiet voices on the TV and the quiet snores of the person next to you who began to shuffle slowly next to you.

You look over to see your girlfriend sitting up slowly, back turned to you as she raises her arm up clearly rubbing her eyes before stretching her arms up.

You smiled at the sight of the oh so tough Amber Freeman acting like a cute toddler in her tired state. It was times like these that you appreciated the most, seeing Amber like this when no one else could.

Though you knew you still weren’t allowed to tell anyone else about it or she would in fact kill both you and the people you told. Not that you ever would, you wanted to be the only one to see and know this.

She pats the bed for a moment, head almost yanking to the spot she was patting making your smile grow.

You reach out and touch her back before running your hand up and down on it making her look back at you with half closed eyes.

As soon as she recognized you, she turned and moved you arm with the book in your hand — while glaring at it — before basically laying her entire body on you.

“You moved.” She mumbled as her face buried itself into your neck making you lift you head and put your chin on top of it.

“No, you did. If I remember correctly you said ‘you’re too sweaty’ with sweat across your forehead and moved away.” You stated matter of factly, chuckling when she pinched you stomach.

“Ow.” You mumble as you feel her breath fan across your neck. She sucks in a breath heavily before slowly letting the air out.

She does it again and this time you squirm, the feeling tickling you slightly. “What are you doing, stop it.” You say as you playfully try to push her head away.

A loud whine escapes her throat making you stop. She really must have been tired to be acting like this, even for you this wasn’t normal. “You smell good, I like it.”

“Well, as your girlfriend I would hope so.” You mumble, pulling the book over her back to continue where you stopped while using your other hand to rub her back.

She grumbles quietly before pushing her back up and continues to bump the book, unable to focus on the words you roll your eyes and place a hand on her head and scratch her scalp.

It only helps for a moment before she reaches up and grabs your arm before yanking it down causing the book to go flying out of your grasp and onto the floor with a thund.

“Amber, what the hell!” You say as she moves back to her comfortable position in your neck. You sit in silence as she mumbles to herself.

She stops for a moment as you begin rubbing her back and patting her head before continuing her quiet mumbles

“What?” You ask turning your head, she huffs before her incoherent mumbling becomes louder making you roll your eyes once again in one night.

“Speak up baby, I can’t hear you.” You say making her huff even louder before moving her mouth from your (her) sweat shirt.

“We didn’t finish the movie.” She says, voice raising louder than needed but getting the point across. You look to the screen to see the movie you set had finished just hours before, not playing an after midnight show.

“Correction,” you say as you reach over the remote. “You didn’t finish the movie, I did.” You finish making her pinch you again before snatching the remote.

She mindlessly scrolled through the different movies and shows before glancing toward you.

“Why are you still awake, anyway?” She asks before looking back to the TV before setting on an older episode of sponge bob.

“You’re the one who decided it was good idea to get me coffee before school,” you say watching her throw the remote and settle back into her spot, expect this time much closer.

“You’re to blame.” You finish as you wrap your arms around her, ignoring the third pinch as your eyes focus on the screen and the breathing of you girlfriend.

After a few minutes she began squirming in your hold causing you to look down to see why she was so restless.

“Amber,” you call as she continues to move about on you. “What’s wrong now?”

“You’re not close enough.” She grumbles as she uses her hands to hold herself up. “Get closer.”

“I don’t think that’s possible babe.” You chuckle and as she crawls over you. She glares at you making you smile.

“So, you’re saying you don’t want to be closer to me?” She asks looking down at you, slightly tilting her head.

You smile at the sight, tiredness clear in her eyes. The whole situation was adorable and you couldn’t get enough. If only she were like this all the time. Clingy, needy and soft. It would be perfect with the personality she has.

Of course, she was nicer to you than anyone else. Much nicer, definitely a ‘mean to everyone but you’ type but this was different from how she’d usually act.

“I never said that, I just said I didn’t know if it were possible.” You smile and stare down at you, moments passing before she spoke again.

“Yes it is, I personally can get a little closer.” She mumbled before dropping herself completely on top of you causing you to huff from the suddenly weight and pressure. “Yes, this feels much closer.” You mumble, looking down you see her head resting gently on your chest.

She seemed less restless now making you smile.

You both go back to watching TV before her breath evens out. Your smile only grows as you reach toward your night stand and grab your phone.

You switch it to camera mode and snap a few pictures of her squished face on your chest.

You scroll through pictures and contemplate sending it to Mindy or Tara. Knowing the consequences, it would end badly but it can’t get too bad. For you, at least.

You smirk and open your messages. If you die, you’ll die peacefully knowing you have these cute pictures in your phone, hidden from your raging girlfriend in the private file.

You just had to share how close she thought she could get.

A/N:

The end is a tad bit rushed I’ll fix it later<3

[tothisfeeling]

“OR NOT” 😭

[tothisfeeling]

the tempest

desc: library date and the struggles of keeping you a secret

warnings: fluff, bit angst, suggestive

words: ~1k

"Hear my soul speak; The very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service,"

Jenna recited as she walked on the same left-to-right line envisioned in her head for half an hour now.

Hands floating around her like she's on the real stage, acting in front of thousands of eyes. Truly, it was only yours.

The ordeal was to visit a library, borrow a book her director reportedly told her and head home. Well, that was a lie.

You found yourself stranded in a small, local library for longer than intended. Only two of you and the librarian lady, unaware of the third wheeling role she holds. Every now and then the bell rang signaling another visitor. Considering how long you've been here, it started to be a less frequent occurrence.

Sitting in the very corner far from entrance, made you lose track of time. The sun is probably setting by now and air was getting colder.

"The more you do this the more i think he did not ask you to read Shakespeare and practice the lines. You made it up."

"Wherefore would i ever?" she asked giving you shocked glare, hand covering her mouth.

"You can drop Shakespeare act, love." You told her through a laugh that passed onto her.

Closing the book, she sat down opposite of you. Her legs routinely tangling up with yours for the sake of the much needed contact. Placing hands on the table that's occupied with couple of books, your bags and headphones, Jenna said;

"It's a pretty good date idea, you gotta give me credit for it."

"Aha, so it was a date?" You sat straight up, confidently claiming the victory of your suspicions.

"Why else would i quote Shakespeare other than to set the mood?"

Sliding back down the wall behind you, with raised brow you repeated herself "To set the mood?"

Feeling as if you pressed the wrong button by looking at her shoulders drop. The liveliness she had a minute ago was getting replaced by a thing less merrier.

"We both know for the past, what? Few weeks we barely left the apartment together. Let alone do anything else except binge watch and take up entire couch."

The tone that she set sounded shattering enough. Her expression only added more damage. Entirely distracted by the rings on her fingers, which she kept twirling around. The feeling of guilt settling in was harsh so you spoke,

"You know i don't mind. I never did. You have a movie to work on, it's not like you can ditch it." Letting your hand grab hers in hopes of stopping the nervous fidgeting.

Fixated on both of your hands now collided, Jenna was not yet ready to look up.

"I know that but it still feels like it's not good enough. I wish there wasn't camera in my face the second i step outside."

A short pause she offered made you alert of how quiet the library is. It's what Jenna wanted all along. A place that provided the same thing your home did. No prying eyes, no shouting, less fans and more of you which lacked.

With everything that came attached to her line of work, places and times like this were becoming something to get used to it. Whether you like it or not. And if she's in question, there's not a thing you couldn't bare.

"I wish it could simply be you and me sometimes. Just like before all of this."

The way she looked, on the thread to break and like an open book only you can read, you did not let time slip away.

With a quick motion of your feet making way over, her arms opened ahead of time welcoming you. Apology that got lost in your sweater didn't go unheard. "Don't be sorry" you reassured quietly.

Tracing patterns in short hair of hers, you laid a kiss on top of it. After making sure you're not going anywhere, you felt the grip around you loosen.

"God, you're the best." Wiping the tears remained accompanied by a few sniffs. "Seriously, i know i might talk a bit to much about Gwendoline but-"

"Jenna," pulling her arms away that hid her face, "you don't have to make excuses." Both faces looking at eachother, eyes pursuing every outline visible under this budget library light hanging from above.

Making a swipe with your thumb just below her eye, you whispered "I love you. Don't think i don't just because we're busy. At the end of the day, you're coming home to me, right?"

As if there was no energy left to form an answer, Jenna shyly nodded "Yeah. I am."

Flooded by the tension created, wondering if it goes both ways left Jenna with only one way of discovering.

"I love you too."

With a pull of your collar, she moved you forward to close the already small distance between. Lips landing on hers and she swore no movie scene compares to this.

No thoughts except the need to prove you how incredibly cherished, loved and addicting you are. Pulling away for a split second, not nearly enough to catch a breath she kissed you once again. Evidently with more passion and lust.

Recognizing the latter, you leaned in deeper. Allowing yourself to become completely absorbed in her act. An act which had two possible outcomes.

Bodies swaying back and forward, Jenna was the first to break the kiss, only to capture the side of your neck. Lost in pleasure, your head thrown back made the book from the shelf behind fall. The noise meant nothing to Jenna but you hopelessly attempted to form a sentence.

"Jenna, maybe here is not the best idea-" as you interrupted yourself with a moan caused by her doings.

Her fingers messing around with the waistband of your pants made you completely spiral. If you let her go now any further, you might not get another chance to stop her at all.

"Jenna, we're in library. Someone might come and see us."

Her only response was a hum, meaning she didn't even acknowledge what you just said.

With the sound of the first button being loose, you used force to move her head so she looks at you. Not before connecting your lips once more, this time more gently. Knowing it will barely bring her back to earth. It was worth a shot, though.

Sigh. "Fine, but i'm calling an Uber so we get home faster." She stated breathless, in annoyed spirit.

You smiled, observing her rapid packing up of the contents on the table. So eager to leave, you thought.

"Whatever you say."

notes: here i go again, i cant with her, she ruined my life completely (sarcastically or not)

[tothisfeeling]

i feel like cowboy wanda would be so gentle the first few times she has sex with you bc she’s worried she’ll hurt you and scare you off but eventually she loses control a bit and manhandles you into position and when she pins you down, you moan and then the most DEVILISH smile spreads across her face

Ooo okay okay it's interesting you brought this up because I've been thinking about their first encounter a bit lately! We'll ignore that this turned into a whole fic, okay? I love them sm Also this isn't really edited because it was supposed to be a short answer and now it's uhm.. not short, so forgive any typos

18+ only please . wc: 2.7k . cw: first meeting hookup, drinking, dirty talk, oral, fingering, v light spanking, lap sits, possessiveness, Wanda being smitten, the pickup truck sex a lot of y'all have been asking me about that I said was coming, morning after with Wanda because she's as proper as she is filthy

Basically right now I have their first time more as a hookup where bunny is new to town and goes out to a bar one night to maybe make friends and see the environment, but then she meets Wanda and her group of friends who are all more than welcoming and you're having a great time hanging out with them.

But your eyes keep drifting to Wanda. Of course Wanda notices and, being the smooth talker she is, starts flirting with the new girl. She buys you as many drinks as you want which, end up being stronger than you're used to, but your nerves keep you ordering more. When she finally slips an arm around you, cornering you in the booth you'd only just plopped yourself into, you're more than ready for Wanda to kiss you— and kiss you she does.

You're shy by nature, never having made out with anyone in a bar, much less with a girl you'd only known for a few hours, but Wanda's thumb brushing over your cheek while she bites down on your bottom lip has you forgetting everything you're used to which admittedly, isn't much. Somehow she's pulled your thighs over her own, toying with the stretchy hem of the form-fitting skirt you'd decided to wear last minute. When she touches a particularly sensitive spot, you shiver and Wanda chuckles, "You cold, darlin'? Pretty as your arms are, I'll let you borrow my jacket if it'd help."

And so the night goes on with Wanda's thick denim jacket slung over your shoulders, her arm around your waist wherever the two of you walk. Normally you'd hate the presumptive way the cowgirl was handling you, as if she owned you already, but you'd be damned if you didn't admit you wanted her to stake her claim. So, in your slightly inebriated state, you took a leap, "Wands, I'm sleepy..."

Which catches her attention immediately. "Well now," Wanda pulls you close then, fingers carefully treading the line between caressing your hip and groping your ass; it would be the first time she whispers in your ear, but it'll never stop being insanely hot. "I hope you're telling me because you're going to let me take you home. I'd be real sad leaving tonight without you."

You wish your giggle of a reply didn't sound so girlish and naïve, but in hindsight, you had no idea the sheer intensity you were in for. "Only if you promise to behave yourself."

—

She's driven about halfway back to her house before she has to pull over; technically it was her land, pulled over to the side of the winding road and turning her truck engine off. "I know I promised to take you home, I still will, but I can't take another second not having my hands on you."

It takes you back a little; all you'd been doing was scratching over her jeans while you stared at the woman driving, but you weren't going to argue with her. "I don't really-"

"I've wanted you on my lap since I laid eyes on you. Get over here." Thankfully she doesn't have to convince you any farther, holding back a groan as you straddled her legs, skirt riding up inch by inch. It was a tight squeeze with you between her and the steering wheel, but Wanda hardly noticed once you started kissing her. This time was impossibly hotter, Wanda's tongue taking control of the kiss before moving on to shamelessly leave marks along your jaw and neck.

And Wanda is too good at getting your clothes out of the way, leaving you topless with record speed, squeezing at your breasts roughly while you struggled just to keep up with her mouth. "What if someone sees..."

The brunette only starts toying with your nipples, relishing in the way it got you rolling your hips. "It's pitch dark, silly girl. I can barely see you out here, don't worry your pretty little head."

You lost the last bit of your restraint the moment Wanda passed her fingertips over your underwear. They were thin lace, chosen by design so as not to show under your skirt, but they drove Wanda wild. She pushed them aside to slide her fingers along where you were already warm and sensitive, hips stuttering as she stroked over your clit. "O-Oh.."

"Look at you, already wet and needy. Were you like this all night? That why I caught you squeezing your thighs together so often?" You shook your head, trying to deny it, but you weren't even fooling yourself.

Wanda's had you rocking in place for hours by this point; you thought sure you'd been subtle and being called out for your behavior found your head ducking into the crook of Wanda's shoulder to avoid her knowing gaze. "Aww, it's okay! It'll be our little secret, promise..."

Wanda discovered night one what a responsive person you were, delighting in the vice grip you held on the back of her seat while she rolled your nipple in time with her other hand on your sensitive bud. You rocked against her hands as best you could, fighting to keep pace, but hopefully not finish so easily— it'd just been so long and you needed this much more than expected.

The next morning, you'd blame the alcohol. "Wanda please, I- I need.."

"What do you need, sweetheart, wanna cum? Make a mess in my truck after I barely got started with you?" You were nodding so hard your neck hurt, moaning quietly as you felt your body reach its peak; the first of many that night. Ears ringing and thoughts so pleasantly fuzzy, you couldn't recall a time you'd felt more free, in an old pickup truck or otherwise.

"Ooh, aren't you just a masterpiece..." The brunette took her time letting you down, pointer and middle fingers wandering until they just barely pushed into you: less than an inch, but unendingly torturous. "Sounds like I was able to make you feel better, least a little bit."

Tired hips tried every which way to sink onto Wanda's long fingers, the same ones you'd felt on you over your clothes back in the bar and had lists of naughty places you wanted her to put them. But each time, your lover avoids delving anywhere past shallow. "You're being mean, just fuck me."

"Mean? After I let you cum as early as you wanted? You don't know what mean looks like on me. Don't think you want to," A succession of wet slaps echoed in the truck's cabin, the silence of everything around you both amplifying the sound of Wanda lightly hitting your sensitive cunt and your resulting whimpers.

"Told you so. Now, bend over and stay still while I get a proper look like the obedient girl I know you are," Manhandling you over the length of her seats shouldn't have been as easy as it was after the long night out, but Wanda was strong and you never fought her while she pushed your arms to the passenger car door and spread your bent knees apart.

If you were begging her to fuck you out loud, you wouldn't be surprised, wishing so hard that if Wanda still refused to give you exactly what you wanted, she'd at least use her fingers, tongue, anything to fill where you currently felt so empty. "Please- I need more-"

Your thighs shake as she licks over your puffy folds, mumbling the most depraved things about you, your taste, your warmth, leaving you with the most intoxicating combination of feeling both used and adored. "You just keep dripping into my mouth, baby, it's impossible to keep you clean..."

"Can't help it, sorry," But your words aren't matching your actions, not when you kept searching out Wanda's tongue each time she flicked at your clit, pitifully rolling over the rough surface whenever she flattened it out.

You'd long since fogged up the windows, smudging the fog as your overheated cheek met the cold glass; each time you managed to open your eyes you remember exactly where you are, woods rustling in the middle of the night. "W-Wanda! 'm close again, please please...!"

"Mean girls wouldn't let you have two orgasms back to back, no matter how pretty." Wanda likes to believe she actually thought about whether or not to give you what you wanted, but in reality she knew she would leave you wanting the second you turned bratty. Sure it was a risk, not knowing how you'd react, but it was well worth the test to see if you had a chance of handling her past a quick night's distraction. "Straighten up, we're only a few minutes from home."

"That's not fair—"

But Wanda was already pushing you upright again, haphazardly fixing your dress, going so far as to buckle your seatbelt as if it'd keep you from your uncomfortable wiggling. "My car my rules! Like I said, we're not far."

Wanda expected you to pout and huff the whole way, worried in the back of her mind you wouldn't let her lay another hand on you after her denial, but she was pleasantly surprised. Somewhere shortly after she pulled back onto the road, you'd taken her hand; first just to play with her fingers, innocent fidgeting at best, but before she knew it, her digits were engulfed in sinfully wet warmth.

Her fingers in your mouth made the pair of you dizzy, hands holding her wrist as you pumped her digits in and out, tongue swirling over the tips and grinning once Wanda's neutral expression cracked, lips parting in a low groan. "Do mean girls let the good ones suck the strap they've been feeling near them all night or do they only get to play with their hands?"

"Depends on if they show them how bad they want it." Wanda could only look your way for seconds at a time, the visual of your half-lidded gaze trained on her jeans while you so obviously used your imagination to envision some other scenario, muffling your own needy sounds as you forced her fingers to the back of your throat... she'd underestimated the new girl.

Whether it was any lingering alcohol talking or whatever boldness Wanda unlocked that night, something urged you to continue goading her, making a show of spreading your legs and slipping her wet fingers to your sex before closing them once more, slowly grinding her shaking digits to sate yourself for that last tiny stretch of road to the farmhouse. "Bad enough to turn your hand into a toy for as long as you let me."

Wanda made that final turn up her driveway, parking her truck fast as she could with only one hand, "You're lucky I didn't crash just now, you little devil, can't wait to get you inside."

"Lead the way, since we're playing by your rules and all." As soon as she got her hand back, Wanda practically dragged you from her vehicle and for as many hours as you spent awake in her home, you couldn't remember a single detail of any room she brought you through that night.

—

When you wake up, it's to a dimly lit bedroom, curtains drawn so only a sliver of late morning sun peeked through. Your body ached, but it wasn't from the drinking, taut muscles and lethargic thoughts bringing back bits and pieces of everything you got up to the second Wanda got you past the front door.

The same Wanda whose bed you assumed you were currently sprawled out in. Doubt crept in as you realized you're alone, fretting over if you should've fallen asleep there or not. You were deciding whether it'd be more awkward to sneak out and go back to town on foot or to search out Wanda and ask if she'd mind driving you back to your place when you heard a single knock on the door. "Can I come in?"

Your brow furrowed, "It's your room, of course you can come in." Wanda cracked the door slowly, the back of her loose flannel shirt greeting you first before she turned around, a small tray in her hands. "Sorry for crashing."

"Never said you were unwelcome, I'm sorry for letting you wake up in a strange place by yourself... and for not leaving you at least a shirt, my bad." Your arms hastily bundled the blankets to cover your chest, your nakedness pointed out to you, but Wanda laughed, setting the tray down before heading for her dresser. "Don't worry, darlin, I love the view just as much in the daylight."

"What a reassuring hostess I have," Pulling the t-shirt she tossed you over your head, the delightful scents coming from the tray down the bed now catching your attention. On it was a short stack of pancakes, bacon, orange juice, strawberries... the biggest breakfast you'd seen since you'd come to town. "Did you make that?"

Wanda nodded and slid the food closer to you before sitting on the edge of her mattress, "I don't typically make this much food, but I had to get up early to make some rounds in the barn and I figured I owed you a hearty breakfast after such a nice night."

There was something so endearing to how she explained her actions, rambling on to offset her nerves, No one had even gone to such lengths to make your morning so comfortable after a single hookup, but this set the bar high for anyone else who tried. Not that you'd ever have to worry about another first night, but neither of you knew that yet.

For now Wanda scrambled to find the right way to show genuine interest in the girl she'd brought home and fucked every which way until they passed out and you amusedly ate your special pancakes while watching Wanda try, her fumbling charming you more than she'd ever imagine.

Eventually you put her out of her misery, putting down your utensils to sit up on your knees and stretch over to plant a quick kiss on her soft lips. "I really appreciate it and I'm not even a bit mad with how I woke up, but it's very sweet of you to care, Wands."

"Oh good because I'd really like to see you again sometime, if you're up for it." It would be a rare thing to see Wanda so continuously shy, but she was uncharacteristically smitten and she wanted to get to know you before the rest of the small town came for their changes too.

You hummed as you popped a strawberry into your mouth, licking your fingers in a way that painfully reminded Wanda of the previous night, "How's today?"

"Today?" The farmgirl ran a hand through her long hair, cocking her head to the side much like a lost puppy.

"Yeah, today. If you wouldn't mind me following along." With each minute that ticked past, the less you wanted to leave, much preferring a Sunday spent with Wanda than in your flat full of moving boxes.

Her eyes lit up, smile brighter than the sun, “Can’t complain about a beautiful girl all to myself all day!" Wanda was practically buzzing with everything she wanted to show you, from the chicken coops to the haylofts, but she forced herself to keep her cool.. on the surface at least. "Finish up breakfast and I'll find you some kind of pants."

"But I'm so cozy right here without them." Maneuvering over the last bits of food on your plate meant you more fell into Wanda's lap than sat on it, but she caught you nonetheless, tugging you down for the proper kiss she'd been waiting to share with you since early morning light. "Come back to bed with me?"

After the long sleep your energy was renewed, finally able to take Wanda into all your senses again, the taste of her lips, the subtle earthy smell from the work she'd already done that day, her strong hands settling confidently on your upper thighs... getting dressed was the last thing on either of your minds. "Wouldn't be much of a hostess if I didn't let my guest do as she pleased."

In the end, the pair of you might've set the world record for longest date from Sunday morning to when Wanda finally dropped a reluctant you back into town Wednesday afternoon.

[tothisfeeling]

im such a loser why am i crying over these two

i need more,, gay women in horror movies

[tothisfeeling]

im so obsessed with the way you portray sam if u dont mind can u do one where sam isnt ready to be public with r and chad likes and keeps flirting with r so sam just gets stressed and jealous while r finds it funny n teases her and reminds her she’s who wanted to be private

Thank you! I’m glad you’re enjoying them, and this was such a fun idea

Warnings - light smut/references

At first you think of it like a game, how many times can you sneak into the apartment - and Sam’s room without being caught.

You enjoy the thrill of running through unlocked doors, ducking around counters and pressing yourself flat to the ground under her bed.

Sam doesn’t entirely the find the process amusing the way you do, and argues it’s a necessity. You’re more hesitant, but understand why she wants to keep your relationship a secret.

You know everything that happened in Woodsborough, how Richie messed up Sam’s ability to trust. 

You also understood why she became so protective of Tara, and a new face in the situation wouldn’t help their adjustment to life in New York. 

It still hurt regardless when you crossed your girlfriend in the lobby with her sister, and she’d barely give you a look. 

As you start to become closer to the group, it becomes harder to pretend Sam is nothing but your friend’s big sister.

You don’t intend on befriending Tara. It happens randomly. The elevator breaks down with the pair of you in it, and an hour conversation means you’re definitely more than acquaintances.

Its bittersweet in a way, because you wish that Sam was comfortable enough for you to introduce yourself properly. 

But you don’t want to push her, make her uncomfortable so you continue your secret relationship.

After the elevator incident, you and Tara exchange phone numbers and sporadically text. 

She even invites you around to hang out with her friends once, and Sam almost collapses at the sight when she returns home from work. 

You hang out a few more times at the apartment, and feel Sam watching you. 

The arrangement initially works. You like getting to know more about Sam, to hear funny stories from Tara and teasing remarks from Mindy.

And you know Sam enjoys having you around. She pretends sometimes it’s to keep you safe - that she likes having eyes on you. 

But it’s easier to use the excuse that you’ll sleep on the couch, and sneak into her room that night. 

Then things start to go wrong.

You're all making dinner around at her apartment - you, Sam, Tara, Mindy, her girlfriend Anika and Chad. 

As usual, the couple are being all touchy feely and you return to the living room - part jealously, part frustration that you can’t touch your girlfriend with the same carefree ease. 

“Hey” a voice greets, and you hope it’s Sam - strong arm wrapping around your shoulder and pulling your body against hers.

But it’s too deep to be Sam and you sigh a little when you notice it’s Chad.

It’s not that you dislike the guy. He’s fun to be around, especially at parties. His social standing also means you get invited to various hangouts.

One thing he is not - is subtle. You’re pretty vocal about your sexuality, openly pansexual. Ever since you told the group, Chad is becoming increasingly more clear with his flirting towards you.

He started with compliments, your dress at a party, your hair at dinner. Basic stuff that you’d shrug off with a polite thank you and small smile.

Sam was never around to notice, so you assumed it would stop soon.

”What are you doing out here all by your lonesome?” He asks, smiling at you genuinely. You can’t bring yourself to be mad though, he isn’t being sleazy or creepy - just flirty.

“Disgusting! Get a room” Mindy calls from the kitchen, and you hear her small whine as Anika slaps her shoulder.

You try to explain you aren’t alone, you just want some time to yourself.

Chad nods with a smile as though he understands your predicament entirely, and rests his hand on the skin of your bare shoulder.

You're about to change the subject when you notice someone at the door.

”Who needs to get a room?” Sam asks, brow furrowed and crossing her arms. You’re momentarily distracted by how good her arms look in the pale blue tank top to notice Chad staring at you.  

Sam notices though, and her eyes darken. You try to hold in your smirk. Chad means no harm, and he’s certainly not your type even if you were single. 

“Oh Mindy was just teasing us” he laughs good natured, offering Sam a drink, who declines - clenching her jaw so hard you watch the muscle flex.

The situation is amusing and you bite back a laugh behind the rim of your beer.

”Us?” Sam enquires, leaning against the door frame as she shoots Chad daggers. Ever oblivious, he nods. “Sure. We were just hanging out”

Its a wonder no one commented on how irritated Sam looked right now, more so than usual as she glared at Chad.

“Just chilling” you agree, innocently and Chad begins to explain the situation to Sam - who looks as if she couldn’t care less.

She’s watching you with a dark expression, something you only see in the bedroom where she lets herself go, holds you with tight hands and uses that voice. 

The same one that makes you tumble towards your peak in record breaking time. You swallow hard at the thought of it, and watch instead how a vein pulses across her pursed jaw.

”I see” She notes, voice venomous. She makes no attempt to join you both on the couch - or leave either.

The atmosphere would be more awkward if Chad wasn’t so oblivious, or if you didn’t find the whole situation so entertaining. 

“Can I speak to you Y/N?” She finally asks through gritted teeth, and you notice how white her knuckles are from clenching her fists.

Nodding innocently, you muster your biggest smile. “Sure Sam. Want to join me and Chad?”

Chad starts bumbling away, already shifting to make room but Sam’s eyes are furious. You can barely hold in your smirk as she seethes.

If looks could kill then poor Chad would be in flames by now. You’re sure that Sam wouldn’t be opposed to that idea as she clenches her jaw again and takes a deep breath.

”Alone Y/N” she affirms, and Chad’s attention is focused on whatever shitty sitcom plays on the tv. You fold your arms, enjoying the show.

”Can’t you tell me here Sam?” You whine, using that ridiculously high voice you only keep for her. The same voice you use to beg for her hands, her mouth. The same voice you know gets her undone.

Your eyes challenge her, barely able to keep the mischievous smile from your lips as she surveys you - like a predator with it’s prey.

If you would have tried these games without a crowd, you’d already be bent over a table by now - Sam’s first knuckle deep. 

But she can’t do that with her sister preparing a salad mere feet away. Her eyes tell another story, and with a flush you think about the night you’ll be in for. 

“Fine” you relent, having teased her enough. “I’ll be back soon” You call into the kitchen, and let Sam take your hand and drag you into her bedroom when out of view.

Immediately you’re pinned against the wall, her dark eyes locked onto yours. “You think that’s funny?” She hisses, and your clit throbs at the sound of her voice.

You whine, reaching for her - but she jerks her body out of touch. “I didn’t realise you were single” Her lips move to your neck, grazing at the skin slightly as she explains.

”I happen to remember from last night, how much you were begging to be mine”

You flush a deep red at the memory and try to press your legs together to alleviate the pressure. Sam noticed, because of course she does - and slides a firm thigh between them.

Its hard to resist the urge to grind down until you’re a wet, whimpering mess but the game works better when you listen. You’ve been a brat all night, and as fun as it is to see Sam’s reaction - you need a reprieve. 

“Imagine my surprise” she continues, mouthing at your neck sloppily. “To find you all cosied up with Chad”

You want to explain the truth. Tell her Chad is nothing more than a friend. But you like the way her teeth feel against the sensitive skin of your throat and all you can do is moan pathetically. 

“I don’t like to share, Y/N” she grumbles, sliding down your top to bite down hard on the skin above your breast. 

It’s a miracle Tara or anyone couldn’t hear you both, with Sam’s rough growls and your mewling whimpers, like a kitten. 

“Well maybe I want to be yours in public too” You bite back, groaning again at the feel of her mouth on your neck. “Not just your girlfriend in secret”

She softens at that, eyes loosing most of their fight. Her finger strokes your jaw. “I know. You’ve been so good. I’m sorry”

You tilt your face into her touch. “You know I don’t like Chad. Not like that” 

“I know baby” she soothes, cupping your jaw and pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. You chase her lips and she obliges, sucking hard on your bottom lip as you groan for her.

She pulls away too soon, hands resting on your shoulders. “I’ll tell them soon. I promise baby. Give me time okay?”

Her eyes search yours and you read the honesty in them, nodding. She mirrors your nod and fixes your shirt, watching your reflection in the mirror.

”Ready?” She asked, and you nod - accepting one final peck before you both head out to the kitchen.

[tothisfeeling]

all hers, part xvii

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi

summary: The scooby-gang are back together. This time to silence Ghostface. Forever.  

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder.

word count: 4.4k

a/n: I was screaming, shaking, crying writing this chapter for some unknown reason. Call it writer's block. Sorry for the wait, thanks for all your guys' love and patience!

You wake up to the smell of pancakes. 

Tara stirs, a little sleepy as you press a kiss to her neck, leaning down to check her dressing. 

“It’s not like your parents to make us breakfast,” She murmurs, sitting up slightly. You were a cereal and toast kind of family. You furrow your brows, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. 

“Girls!” Sam’s voice calls up the stairs, “Breakfast is ready.” 

Tara’s eyes widen. 

“Oh no.” 

-

Sam’s pancakes are made out of buckwheat flour and vegan butter. They’re brown - browner than a pancake should be, and her toppings are a mesh of eggs, avocado and chorizo. Not a raspberry, or blueberry - or any kind of traditional pancake topping in sight. 

“Maple syrup isn’t good for you,” Sam assures when you ask for it. Instead, she offers a small bottle of honey, “Here. This is much healthier.”

Tara stares down at her plate, nudging her food suspiciously. 

“It’s so nice to have a cook in the house,” Your mother gushes as she digs into her plate, “And this is really gourmet stuff. Our own little Gordan Ramsey.” 

Tara swallows, her expression stormy. She picks up a piece of pancake with her fork and sniffs it. Makes a face. 

 Sam settles into the spot next to you. You take a half-hearted bite. 

“How does it taste?” Sam asks, and you swallow, locking eyes with Tara. 

“Healthy.” 

“Good,” Sam says, sounding pleased with herself, “Tara needs nutrients.”

“Isn’t it nice of your sister to make you breakfast?” You ask Tara pointedly, nudging her foot under the table. 

She blinks. Looks at you like she doesn’t want to answer. 

You kick her again. 

“Really nice, thanks Sam,” Tara mumbles into her plate. 

It’s small and half-hearted. But it makes Sam beam. 

-

It’s a Tuesday morning but you’re not in school. 

Tara’s still too weak to walk for a prolonged amount of time, and you manage to convince your Dad it’s safer to stay home with Tara and Sam than go to school by yourself. 

He and your Mom file out, one by one. He presses a kiss to your forehead. Makes sure you remember to lock the door on his way out. 

They’ve been a little more at ease with Sam around, though she’s taken all their nervous energy and increased it tenfold. She spends most of her time checking the locks and cleaning her guns. The leftover is spent in the kitchen making Tara countless healthy snacks, to Tara’s great horror. Your room is filled with barely touched plates of carrot sticks and cucumber straws, tofu balls and seaweed crackers. 

Sam is just as obsessive as her sister, though she shows it in a much different way. 

Tara grumbles as she shoves another platter of hummus and carrots to your desk, phone pressed to her ear. She’s invited around her friends, and she must catch the look on your face because when she hangs up. She takes you in her arms and presses a long kiss to the side of your head. 

“We need them,” She promises, “We need bodies to catch Ghostface.” 

“If you say so,” You say, biting your lip. 

It seems a little silly to you. Afterall, who’s to say one of them wasn't Ghostface? Between you and Tara, you had managed to kill two of their best friends. It wasn’t far-fetched to imagine they might be a little pissed about it if they knew. 

She wraps her arms around your shoulders, presses a light kiss to your lips. 

“They’ll be here in twenty,” She says, and so you quiet the thought of Chad and Liv in matching Ghostface masks and abandon Tara to get dressed. 

Sam’s in the kitchen when they arrive, making Tara a green smoothie. 

She doesn’t see the door open, doesn’t hear the hushed whispers as you shuffle them all upstairs to pile into your tiny bedroom. 

Chad makes himself at home, lays back against the bed, one of your cushions in hand. 

“Brace yourself,” He says as Tara shuts the door, “Mindy made a power-point.” 

“I just thought the suspect list might be a little easier to palate in a visual format.” Mindy says, shooting a glare at her twin. She opens her laptop. Tara rolls her eyes. 

“Forget about the suspect list,” She tells Mindy, “What’s the plan? It doesn’t matter who he is, we just need to catch him.” 

“I still say we trap him,” Liv pipes up. 

Tara groans. 

“Liv, that’s why we’re here.” 

“We could do it at the house,” Mindy suggests, biting her lip. 

“And how are we going to do that?” Tara asks, “This house is on lockdown. He’ll never get in, now. Not with Sam parading about like the secret service.”

“We do it at school,” Chad suggests, “Think about it. Ghostface won’t be scared off by Sam and YN’s Dad. And it’s a familiar place - we know it like the back of our hands.” 

“Ghostface hasn’t attacked us at school.” You say, chewing your lip. 

“Not yet.” Chad stresses, “But maybe he will. If we can draw him out.” 

“And how are we supposed to do that?” Tara asks, voice dry, “Send him a text message? Hey, Ghostface - YN and I will be hanging out by ourselves in the girls locker room if you want to try carve us up like cattle again.” 

“We need to make it public knowledge that we’ll be alone,” You say, sitting up, “If we can spread it through the entire school, surely he’ll find out. He’s watching us, remember.” 

“Detention.” Chad says, snapping his fingers together, “Principal Garcia’s detention! There’ll be no one there. No one is ever bad enough to get Principal Garcia’s detention.” 

Principal Garcia had started a programme just as you’d joined Woodboro High. Regular detention was held after school, as usual. But Principal Garcia’s detention was held Saturday mornings. You’d only ever heard of one student who was naughty enough to get one of the Principal’s detention. 

And that person happened to be your girlfriend. 

“He doesn’t hand them out willy-nilly,” Tara says, sounding frustrated, “You have to be really bad to get one.” 

“You got one,” Mindy says, raising an eyebrow, “Figures you could get one again.” 

Tara’s Principal’s detention had been granted at one of your old soccer games. Faye Evans, one of the girls on the opposing team had played it too fast and loose one the field and ended up kicking your shins a little too hard. You’d toppled to the ground in agony. 

Faye would have got a red card, if Tara had not got to her first. 

You’d sat up, just in time to see Tara bee-lining from her spot on the sidelines. She’d grabbed Faye by the arms and body-slammed her so hard into the ground she drew blood. She’d maybe have done worse had you not pried her off. 

Thankfully, Faye’s parents had settled for the detention (and Tara’s permanent ban from watching your soccer games) in lieu of a lawsuit. 

“Chad punched someone last year and got suspended,” Tara grumbles, “That isn’t what we need. We need a detention, not a mark on our permanent records.”

“I was defending Liv’s honor,” Chad says, puffing his chest out a little, “Some dude in Chemistry grabbed her ass.” 

Liv all but swoons. She ducks down and kisses him. 

“My hero.” She murmurs. 

Mindy wrinkles her nose. 

Tara looks at you, “I was doing the same for you,” She says, sounding aggrieved, “Some girlfriends are grateful, see?” 

“You’re not body-slamming anyone again,” You tell her, eyebrows raised, “Besides, you can barely stand up without wincing.” 

“Maybe you could cuss out a teacher?” Mindy suggests. 

Tara shakes her head. 

“I’ve done that too, got a regular detention.” She says. 

The teacher in question was Mrs. Cartwright. She’d given you a C+ on your English paper. And Tara had hit the roof. 

You stir, not enjoying this trip down memory lane. 

Tara looks over at you. 

“We could get caught.” She suggests, “Third period - maybe before History class.” 

Your cheeks flame red. 

“No,” You hiss, “Absolutely not.” 

“Baby, we have to do something.” Tara insists, “It has to be bad enough to get a Principal’s detention, not so bad we get suspended-”

“I’m not fucking you in front of Mr Saunders,” You say. 

“It wouldn’t be all the way, maybe just some mouth stuff.” Liv says, helpfully. 

You glare at her. 

“Forget it,” You tell Tara, “Think of something else.” 

The group collectively slump back in their seats. It’s quiet a moment, and then Chad sits up. 

“I’ve got it!” He says, sounding excited, “We make a big show in class, Tara and I get into an argument - and then she punches me! The only reason I got suspended is because that kid’s Dad got involved. So I just won’t tell mine.”

You furrow your brows.

“You can act like I hit on your girl, or something,” Chad continues, “It’s perfect!”

“And I am I supposed to get detention from this?” You ask. 

Chad shrugs, “I don’t know. You punch me too?” 

Tara chews her lip. 

“It’s a terrible idea,” She says, “But it’s the best we have so far.” 

“What’s a terrible idea?” Sam’s in the doorway. You hadn’t heard her come in. She has another platter of vegetables in hand.

The five of you whip around, the guilt on all of your faces evident. 

“Chad thinks we should get McDonalds for lunch,” Mindy says, lamely. 

Sam stares at her, disbelieving. 

“What’s this about punching Chad?” She says, staring at Tara, “And why do you want detention?” 

Liv folds like a lawn chair. 

“We’re trying to get Tara and YN a principal’s detention.” She says, quickly, “So Ghostface will attack Tara and YN and we’ll be able to catch the guy.” 

Mindy groans. 

“Liv,” She hisses, “We were fine.”

Sam stares a moment. 

“No,” She says, immediately. Tara sits up a little straighter. 

“Sam we need a plan,” She argues, “If we can trap the asshole and take off his mask-”

“You have a three inch hole in your stomach,” Sam says, voice shrill, “And if you think I’m trusting these idiots to protect you-” 

 “Sam,” Tara interjects, voice raised, “I’m not a little kid anymore. I can look after myself.”

“You’re not leaving this house unless I’m with you,” Sam says, sounding final, “And if you think I’m going to let you use yourself as bait for Ghostface-”

“She’s already bait for Ghostface,” You say, cutting in. Sam stares at you, “Look at what just happened. Sam, if we want to stop this guy, we need to know who he is.” 

Sam looks at you.  

Really looks at you. 

You’re right and she knows it. You can tell by the look in her eyes. Hesitant, troubled. Like she’s fighting a losing battle in her own head. 

Tara interjects before she can say anything. 

“You can be a part of the plan if you want,” She says, “But we’re doing it with or without you.”

“You’re doing it with me,” Sam says, after a long moment, “You’re doing it right. Tell me the plan.” 

Chad goes into animated detail. Too much detail.  

“You’re an idiot,” Sam cuts Chad off mid-sentence, eyebrows furrowed, “Assault is assault, Chad. Tara will be suspended within the hour.” 

“So what do you suggest, Sam?” You ask, a little desperate. 

Tara interjects, “I still think we should get caught having-”

“No.” You and Sam say at the same time. 

Tara crosses her arms. 

“I have an idea,” Sam says, biting her lip, “But I need you to trust me.” 

-

Sam’s idea is ridiculous at best, plain cruel at worst. 

But it’s the best idea you have. 

Wednesday morning you’re sitting in history class after having half-carried Tara into school, your stomach awash with butterflies. Chad, Liv and Mindy sit around you like body-guards, and despite the ridiculousness of the Ghostface-fighting crew you’ve put together, it does give you a little comfort knowing they’re close. 

Mr Saunders is a dreary, five foot seven, forty one year old. He wears bowties to school and torments his classes with facts about history, which he delivers in a droning, tired voice. As if even he is sick of hearing about it. 

It’s the Vietnam war today. 

You let him begin the class, even listen for a little. 

Sorry, you think preemptively. 

It’s almost Ironic, how he spends so much time talking about war and is so unaware he’s about to be the next casualty in one. 

Right on schedule, as he pauses to take a sip of his coffee, Tara raises her hand. 

“Mr Saunders,” She pipes up, “Can YN and I be excused?” 

Mr Saunders looks down at her. Long lines draw across his forehead. His shoulders tighten. He doesn’t like being interrupted.

He looks between you and Tara, eyes appraising. The two of you had a certain reputation in school, and you were certain no teacher would let the two of you go off alone. Let alone him. 

“Do you need to see the nurse, Ms Carpenter? I’m sure, Mr Meeks-Martin can escort you.” Pointed, as if he sees right through her façade. 

Tara shakes her head. Her eyes blaze in that way they do when she’s determined to see something though. 

Your stomach flips. 

“Not really,” She says, a little blasé, “This lesson is just boring me, a little.” 

The class sniggers. Mr Saunders’ expression turns frosty. He stands a little taller, hushes the class with a whack against the white board.

“I’m sorry you don’t find the Vietnam war more entertaining, Ms Carpenter,” He says, voice stern, “But you’ll just have to make do. No, you may not be excused.” 

You grip Tara’s hand a little tighter. It’s your turn. 

“Why do you have such a stick up your ass all the time, Sir?” You say, voice a little shaky. 

Tara rubs her thumb over the back of your hand, comfortingly. 

Mr Saunders blinks back at you. It isn’t often you spoke up in his class, if at all. His face flames red with anger. 

“Why don’t I tell you in detention?” He says, curling his lip. 

He turns his back to you, scribbling madly on the whiteboard, trying to redirect the attention of the class. 

Disappointment floods through you. 

Detention. A regular detention. It isn’t what you need. 

“He’s balding, babe, that’s why,” Tara says, loudly, “He wears a toupee and thinks everyone can’t tell-“ 

Mr Saunders whirls around. 

“Detention,” He hissed again, “Both of you.” 

“Mr Saunders doesn’t have a toupee,” Chad says, exactly on time, “There’s no way. Look at that thick head of hair.” 

Tara stands. 

“Sit down, Ms Carpenter,” Mr Saunders says, voice irate. 

You can’t look as it happens. 

Mr Saunders, although a little strict, is a perfectly nice teacher. And you were about to humiliate him in front of a sea of piranha-like teenagers. 

Liv squeezes your shoulder. 

“It’s for a good cause,” She offers in a whisper. 

Tara reaches the front of the room. Mr Saunders doesn’t see it coming. He blocks the door, as if that’s where she’s trying to go. 

And then in one swift move, she’s launching her arm forward and plucking the toupee straight off his head. 

The class gasps, then erupts into a flurry of shock and laughter.  You bury your head in your hands. 

Tara waves the toupee about as if it’s a trophy for a moment before Mr Saunders snatches it back and tries to jam it - upside down - on his bald head. 

“Principal’s office,” He hisses, face contorted, red, like he’s about to explode, “Both of you. Now.” 

-

There’s a lot of yelling. 

Mr Saunders wants you both suspended, for being “arrogant, disrespectful little shits.”

You Dad is at work, so it’s Sam who gets called. 

Principal Garcia watches the two of you over his glasses with faint distaste. Like he doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this kind of ridiculous nonsense. 

“Mr Saunders, I am so sorry for my sister's behavior,” Sam says, wide-eyed when she arrives, as if it weren’t her very idea, “The only explanation I can give you is it’s been a very tough couple of weeks. You know, Tara was attacked by Ghostface just days ago.”

For the first time in the last hour, the Principal softens. He looks down at Tara, appraises her for a moment. 

“That’s understandable,” He says. Mr Saunders’ shoulders tighten again, like an angry little wind-up doll, “But it’s no excuse for her behavior-“ 

“I agree,” Says Sam, nodding softly, “Principal, perhaps one of your special detentions will set her in order. Both of them. Give them time to think about how they behave in school.”

The Principal hums. 

And agrees. 

Exactly to plan. 

-

Saturday detention can’t come fast enough. 

Tara breaks down the plan over and over, as if you’re both in Ocean's Eleven, the detention your diamond heist. 

There are cabinets which line the back of the classrooms. Chad and Liv are to sneak into school early, hide back there until the attack happens. Mindy and Sam are to scout the doors, using a nearby utility closet to stay out of sight. 

Tara and Sam are both to be armed, and the six of you are going to be wearing military strength bulletproof vests - courtesy of Tara’s mom’s credit card she still hadn’t changed the PIN number to. 

Perhaps she might after the near nine hundred dollar bill she had just incurred. 

Sam instructs all of you to “aim for the knees, but kill the asshole if you have to.” 

And despite all the planning and the manpower, you can’t help but have the sinking suspicion something will go wrong. 

“It’ll be okay, baby,” Tara murmurs that morning, scouting out your quiet trepidation with expertise. She presses a kiss to your forehead and takes you in her arms, “I’ll protect you. He won’t touch you.” 

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” You murmur, lightly touching her wound with your fingertips. It’s been almost a week but she’s still healing. She winces when she sits down, and still leans on you sometimes when she walks. 

You’re terrified that despite the gun and the vest, she’ll collapse to the ground and make herself Ghostface’s pin cushion once again. 

She smoothes your hair back, fondly scratches your scalp. 

“I’ll be okay,” She assures, “Once the adrenaline takes over.” 

She kisses you. 

“It’s going to be over, today,” She promises. Her dark eyes are awash with something: that fearlessness that comes so easy to her, “You’re never going to have to be afraid of him again.”

But you are afraid. 

Not just of the inevitable attack that would occur, only hours later. You’re afraid once he’s unmasked he’ll talk. He knows, you know he knows. And one single utter of ‘Ghostface” and Tara’s name in the same sentence and the Sheriff would be knocking down your door to take her away. 

“We have to kill him, baby,” You murmur. You bury your head in her neck, inhale her scent as if it will give you some comfort, “If he talks-”

“He won’t talk,” Tara says, sounding determined, “I’ll put a bullet through his brain before he gets the chance.” 

-

The mood is somber. 

Chad and Liv are en-route to the school, they’d texted ahead. 

Mindy is to meet Sam outside the school in all but thirty minutes. 

You chew down on some plain toast, trying to quell the tide of nausea rocking waves in your stomach. 

“You okay, babe?” Tara asks, rubbing your back, “We need to get dressed in a minute.” 

“I have a bad feeling,” You say. Tara leans over, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

“It’s just nerves.” She promises. 

“Don’t be nervous,” Sam assures from across the table. She’s loading pellets into her shotgun, “I’m going to be armed with more firepower than the entire nation of Latvia. Motherfucker better hope he’s wearing knee pads, else I’m going to blow his knee caps clean off.”

If anything, that makes you more nervous. 

“Don’t fire it close to Tara.” You tell her, chewing your lip. 

Sam shoots you a look. 

“Do I look like a rookie to you?” 

A little, you’d fire back but your thought is interrupted by a sharp, urgent knock at the front door. 

Tara tilts her head. 

“Who’s that?” 

You frown, crane your neck to try and see the figure through the glass. Your parents were at work, and they didn’t often host unexpected guests. 

Sam stands, carefully places her shotgun on the countertop as she goes to answer the door. 

You follow, curiosity peaked. 

And then immediately wish you hadn’t. 

It’s the Sheriff, and two other offices, poised at either side of her shoulders. 

Her stance is stoic, expression unreadable. Your stomach churns in that uneasy way it always does when she’s around. But something about this is different.

She seems… formal. Far too formal for this to be a house call. You grip Tara’s hand tight between your fingers. 

“Sheriff?” Sam asks, a little confused, “What are you doing here?”

But the Sheriff isn’t looking at Sam. Her eyes are honed in on Tara. Like she’s found her mark. 

“Tara Carpenter,” She says, voice even, “I need you to come down with me to the station."

“Why?” Sam asks, immediately. Her shoulders tense. 

“We have some questions,” Sheriff Hicks says, eyes flickering, “That’s all.” 

“So ask them,” Sam says, eyebrows furrowed, “She’s not going anywhere with you.” 

Sheriff Hicks reaches into her pocket. 

She pulls out a piece of paper, and thrusts it towards Sam. 

Your stomach sinks. A wave of hot anxiety flushes through you at the sight. 

It’s an arrest warrant. With Tara’s name on it. 

“You want to bet?” Sheriff Hicks says, voice cold.

You feel your heart start to pound. Tara blinks, staring at the paper a moment. You feel hot, your brain swimming. Your chest is tight, like the walls are closing in. 

“I don’t understand,” Sam murmurs, crinkling the paper between her fingertips, “You’re arresting her for what exactly?” 

“For murder,” Sheriff Hicks says, “For multiple murders. For the murder of Aaron and Sam Collins, Chase Matthews, Sadie Jones, Amber Freeman-“ 

Her voice quivers. 

“And Wesley Hicks.” 

It’s quiet a moment. 

Your throat closes. Sam stares, eyes widening. 

And then she splutters, “That’s ridiculous-“ 

Your hand tightens around Tara’s. She hasn’t moved. Her expression hasn’t changed. 

Sheriff Hicks narrows her eyes. 

“Don’t make me do this the hard way, Tara.” She says, “I can make a scene. I can handcuff you in front of your girlfriend and your sister or you can make it easy and come with me right now.” 

Her hands touch the metallic handcuffs dangling off her belt, menacingly. 

Panic swells in your chest. You feel as though you might combust. Your throat is tight but you manage to pry  through a few strangled words. 

“You’ve got it wrong,” You plead, tears pricking behind your eyes, “Tara hasn’t killed anyone.” 

A blatant lie. 

She’d see it if she looked over at you, saw the falsehood, the desperation swimming in your eyes. But the Sheriff isn’t looking at you. She’s looking at Tara, victorious. 

As if she’s got her right in the scope. 

Sam stares between them, then snaps into action. 

“It’s going to be okay.” Sam says, all big-sister mode. She presses her hands to Tara’s shoulders, “I’m going to call a lawyer, right now. Don’t say anything to them Tara. I’ll follow, right behind, I’ll be in the waiting room the entire time-“ 

The plan. 

It hits you like a jolt of lightning. The trap you’d perfected. The painstaking hours that had gone into planning it. The quick knock on the door that had sent it all out the window. 

You’d had him. 

Ghostface would have been yours. You’d have him unmasked, in the handcuffs the Sheriff had intended for Tara. 

You think, quickly. And then close your eyes. Muster the strength it takes to get the words out. 

“No,” You says, quietly. Tara and Sam both look over at you, “We had plans today, Sam.” 

Sam looks at you as if you’re crazy. 

There are police in your yard, swarming the lawn, sirens blaring. There’s a dozen of them, as if the Sheriff needed backup. As if, your tiny, injured, 5”1 girlfriend would put up so much fight twelve police officers would have to hold her down. 

You blink back tears, hold the lump in your throat. 

And you know exactly what you need to do. 

“My Dad will be with her,” You continue, “I’ll call him now. He’ll call the lawyer, drive her home when they let her go. Inevitably.” 

You shoot a look at the Sheriff. 

“But Sam, it’s the only way.”

“No,” Tara says, voice flat, “No. Sam, tell her no.”

“It’s the only way,” You say, breathless. You blink back the tears, “We need to give them something.” 

The Sheriff is watching, eyes peeled. Eyes narrowed, like she’s trying to make out your not-so-secret code. 

You swallow. Taper down your emotions for a moment. Determination surges through you. 

Lawyers, police, The Sheriff. Nothing could fix this but doing one thing. 

Giving the police Ghostface. On a silver platter. 

Sam’s quiet. 

But Tara kicks up a fuss. 

“Baby,” She urges, trying to pry your attention, to her “Baby, look at me. Say you won’t. Promise me you won’t.” 

You swallow. 

Brush her hair out of her face. Her eyes are wide, desperate. Huge brown orbs, pleading. It’s so strange to see her powerless. It’s unnatural. 

You kiss her, softly. 

“I’m going to protect you,” You promise against her lips, voice but a whisper, “The way you protect me.” 

“That’s enough.” The Sheriff says, voice stern, “Tara. Easy way or the hard way? Your choice.” 

Tara swallows. 

“Sam,” She says, voice urgent, “Promise me you won’t let her. Promise me.” 

Sam blinks a moment, her face blank. 

And then she nods, presses a long kiss to Tara’s forehead. 

“I promise,” She says, voice soft, “Go with the Sheriff. YN and I will be right behind you.” 

Your heart sinks. Relief floods through Tara’s face. 

“Now, Tara,” The Sheriff says, voice stern. Tara steps forward. Shoots a final look at you. 

“I love you,” She murmurs. 

And then you watch, tears in your eyes, as she’s hauled off in the back of a squad car. She limps to the car, looking so small amongst the sea of police officers. Helpless.

It makes you ache.

You turn to Sam when they’re out of sight, eyes shimmering with brand new determination. 

“Sam- I know you’re in shock, but it’s the only way-”

“You don’t have to sell me a pitch, YN,” Sam says, voice low. The unshed tears in her eyes mirror yours, “We’re going to the school and we’re catching Ghostface.” 

You blink. 

Sam looks at you. 

“You’re right,” She says, lip quivering, “It’s the only way to save her.”

[tothisfeeling]

— smoke some, drink some, pop one

pairing: vada cavell x fem!reader

warnings: smut, drug use, lesbian sex, cunnilingus, overstimulation, slight roughness, unnecessary euphoria references

summary: you smoke dope. vada admits she has never eaten a girl out before. a practical demonstration ensues

word count: 2.7k

a/n: this was written under the influence of a travis scott song. expect anything. enjoy

You stare at the clock hanging above the blackboard anxiously, kicking your leg under the desk. The last few minutes of the last period always seem to stretch miles into infinity, and your patience is barely as flexible. The voice of the teacher has long since become background noise, the talk of equations and trigonometry and the finals week and how unprepared you were for it the last thing on your mind.

You pick your phone up for the millionth time to look at the messages still hanging and marked as unseen on your screen, eyes focusing on Vada’s name followed by an emoji of a puppy and a black heart.

‘got us enough to roll one’

‘just one tho’

‘don’t wanna end up like last time’

You chuckle quietly – the sweet memories of you and Vada skinny dipping in a pond at night and then showing up half-naked at Nick’s door are definitely the ones you treasure most, even though you can barely piece them together.

You look out the window, lost in thought. Your teacher asks you a question – and then you're saved by the sound of the bell ringing across the building.

As soon as you hear it you’re up and all but bolting out the door, muttering a quick ‘bye’ to the teacher to maintain your good girl image that, to be honest, has been hanging by a thread ever since the day you started dating Vada.

Not that you really care about their opinion. You just don’t want the principal to call your mother again.

You speed walk through the corridor, try to remember which floor was Vada’s class on, before you’re stopped by a pair of hands wrapping around your waist.

“Hey there pretty girl.”

You squeal in surprise, turning around in your girlfriend’s arms. She’s grinning at you annoyingly, the little shit, but the small dimple on her right cheek makes it impossible to be mad at her.

“Fuck, Vada,” you huff, pinching her shoulder half-heartedly, “I’ve got a weak heart, remember?

She shrugs, leans in to kiss your pout away.

“Sorry. I got out early. Wanted to wait for you since apparently someone's not interested in answering any of my texts anymore.”

You kiss her back, smiling apologetically, “I was too excited to see you, I guess.”

The brunette hums, lacing her fingers with yours, “Where to then?”

You think about inviting her over to your place – it’s closer to school, and your mom is working till late evening, but the rationality clicks quicker. Your mom also happens to work as the district attorney of the town – you’re pretty damn sure she knows what pot smells like, and would be able to smell it hours after you and Vada have fucked beyond the common sense of ventilating the house.

So you do the next best thing, one that won’t get either of you in trouble – you hotbox in your girlfriend’s car. You realize it might soon become the best thing, because it hits so much better.

Vada gets greedy with the joint a few times – you have to remind her it’s puff puff pass, not puff puff kiss your girlfriend so she lets her guard down then puff again.

In a few minutes you’re in her lap and making out with her like it’s your last day on Earth, the two of you giggling into each other’s mouths when you accidentally press the horn with your butt a few times, the honking sound mixing with your laughter.

You can barely make Vada’s face out by the time the last of the joint fizzles out and starts to burn your fingertips, the smoke filling the car up to the brim, but her eyes stand out amidst the choking whiteness, her pupils almost heart-shaped as she watches you with a dopey grin.

When you open the door the smoke drifts up the sky in big clouds, and breathing clear oxygen almost feels weird.

You’re still giggling slightly as Vada fumbles with her pockets to find her keys, your soft lips pressing to the side of her neck in sweet pecks making the process of finding them unnecessarily hard.

She shushes you when you finally step inside, listening for any sounds, before closing the door behind you. As soon as you realize you’re alone in the house, you press your lips against Vada’s impatiently.

“Don’t forget– your shoes,” Vada manages between the kisses, shivering as you slide your hands under her oversized shirt, “I’m serious, you horndog. Mom hates it when the floors are dirty.”

You groan into her lips, pulling away to untie your Jordans, shaking on your unstable legs slightly, and make your way up the stairs into her room. Vada opens the window to let the fresh spring air sweep through the room, hoping it’ll be enough to help the smell of weed wear off your clothes and hair.

“Wanna watch a show?” She asks, gesturing to her laptop as you sit on her bed, crossing your legs.

“Mhm. You’re thinking Euphoria, aren’t you?” You snort, watching as your girlfriend slides next to you, “Because I think we’re pretty much in one.”

“So, like,” Vada trails off, her hands coming to rest on your hips in what she thinks is a subtle movement, “Would that make me Rue, then?”

She plays with a string on your pants, feeling almost embarassed about the corny things she's saying.

“And you – Jules?”

You hum, tilting your head with a coy grin, try and mull her innuendo over in your baked out mind. The comparison does seem familiar – especially with Vada’s puppy love towards you.

“Well, I liked their duo in the first season but... weren’t they, like... extremely toxic later on?”

Vada finally pulls in you to sit on her lap, your thighs bracketing hers, and it’s such close proximity you can count all the pretty freckles scattered across her face. You’d probably get lost at fifty, way too high for mathematics of any kind, even if it’s this romantic.

“You’re right. Fuck Euphoria,” she whispers, her gaze sliding to your lips, and you don’t waste any more time to press your lips to hers.

Kissing Vada has always been something to look forward to – warm and pleasant, makes your stomach flip when she’d bite your bottom lip and lick at your teeth. Kissing Vada whilst being slightly high is an out of this world feeling. Her nose presses into your cheek, and your palms slide to the back of her neck, fingers twirling her silky brown tresses idly.

You pull away for air, and it gets stuck in your throat as the brunette presses a kiss behind your ear, trailing the butterfly smooches down to your pulse point. Her hands are kept busy under your shirt, fingertips tracing up your stomach to your ribs.

“How many times have you ever been eaten out?”

A sudden but... not at all unwelcome question. You lean back on your hands, humming when her plush lips rest against your collarbone, and purse your lips in thought.

“Mm... once or twice. I don’t really keep any notches on my belt, y’know?”

Her hands tighten around your hips, and you chuckle.

“Drinking vinegar, are you now? Don’t worry. You have an opportunity to top them all.”

Vada averts her gaze suddenly. You frown, lean in to cup her face gently.

“What’s wrong?”

The brunette rubs her thumbs over your clothed thighs, then looks back up at you, a small frown on her face.

“I’ve never done this before.”

“You’ve never... fucked anyone?” You're sure that's a lie – she's fucked you before.

“I’ve never given a girl head.”

You hum, reaching to hold her slightly shaky hands, slowly inching them closer to the waistband of your sweatpants, “I can teach you,” you suggest, biting your lip, “Show you what I like. That cool?”

Vada looks almost mesmerized. She nods, her gaze fixed on your pants, and you giggle as she tugs them down your legs, prompting you to slide off her lap to let her do so, the cool outside breeze hitting your warm skin and rising goosebumps in its wake.

“I listened to a podcast the other day,” she begins, “About cunnilingus. The host said the best advice she’s ever gotten was to google wielding techniques.”

You raise your eyebrows in confusion, “Huh?”

Vada reaches for her phone on the bedside table, quickly unlocking it and typing something in the search bar. She selects a random picture and shows you the screen.

There are indeed blueprints of what looks like wielding seams, going from bottom to the top. The arrows are forming different patterns – there are zig-zags, crescents, a circular seam and a ‘figure 8’ seam...

For all the ridiculousness, they do seem... practical.

You smile and grab the phone, turning it off and tossing it somewhere back on the bed.

Of course she would do that – research stuff. It’s so fucking endearing it prompts you to wrap your hands around her neck and press a kiss to her cheek.

“Why not stick to the usual alphabet thing, hm?” You offer, “I can tell which letter I’d love the most.”

You lean in to whisper into her ear huskily, “It’s ‘V’.”

Vada shudders, making you smile. Then her hands grasp at your hips, tugging you closer, and your breath hitches at her sudden assertiveness.

The brunette bends her knees so that she’s level with your center and parts your legs slowly. You curse under your breath – you’re pretty much drenched right through your panties, and if Vada was just slightly more sober, she’d probably tease you about it, too. You’re glad she isn’t.

She leans in closer instead, tongue lolling out and pressing against your clothed cunt, licking a stripe up the smeared wetness there. Her fingers slip under the waistband of your underwear, and you tilt your hips up a bit to help her take it off, the movement causing your heat to press further into her mouth, making you whine.

Your panties are off, and so is Vada’s tongue.

She stares long enough for you to feel a bit conscious about yourself, and you move to close your legs on instinct, but her hands keep them apart. She hooks your ankles over her shoulders, shoots you a warning look. Her dark gaze makes you clench around nothing. The shyness and uncertainty is gone like it wasn’t even there.

You’re not sure if it’s weed, or if you’re being tricked, but this version of Vada is... new. Extremely hot, too.

She lowers herself so that she’s inches away from your pussy, her warm breath fanning your swollen clit – you're so strung up that you’re starting to feel a second heartbeat in between your legs. Vada looks up at you again, making sure you’re watching her as she flattens her tongue along your slit, collecting all the warm slick that leaked out from the moment she had you on her lap. She lets out a satisfied groan, and you sigh, hips buckling to meet her.

Despite all your confidence, you feel yourself crumble at the first touch of your girlfriend’s mouth on you – you’ve always preferred this over any kind of penetration, and Vada’s eagerness to please you doesn’t help.

She withdraws for a moment, and you find yourself missing her immediately.

“Is this okay?” She asks, palms caressing your thighs to soothe you.

“Don’t make me beg.” You breathe with a chuckle.

She laps at your folds, groaning at the saccharine warmth of your arousal coating her tongue – then leans back again, and you’re almost whining before she reaches her thumb to rub at your swollen clit, her breathing heavy as she watches you gush around nothing.

“Baby.” You whine pathetically, your knees coming together to try and push her face into you.

Vada doesn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest, her digit circling your sensitive spot, never taking her eyes away, “Hm?”

“Please,” you murmur, voice stifled by the hot arousal burning in your veins, “Want your mouth, baby. Want to cum on your tongue, please.”

The brunette digs her fingers into the soft flesh of your hips before wrapping her plump lips around your clit, gently sucking, and your thighs tighten around her head at the sudden overwhelmingly good feeling coursing through your body. You almost can’t believe how good it feels – how good Vada is, almost naturally talented at making your toes curl as she mouths at your dripping pussy, keeping a burning grip on your quivering legs. The immense amount of pleasure is so sudden you’re practically sobbing her name, your stomach tensing and hips bucking with each calculated flick of the girl’s tongue. The sheets under you are considerably darker than the rest, a pool of your cum along with the brunette’s spit dampening the area.

You’ve heard that drugs can expand your consciousness, but to such a degree that has you seeing stars as Vada eats you out like it’s her second nature...

Her tongue slips between your walls suddenly, causing you to arch your back into the air, hips rolling into her face. Her tongue continues to lap confidently, going in circles around your entrance. A shaky sigh leaves your lungs, and you have to clench your eyes shut.

“Vada, oh my god,” you breathe shakily, your voice tight and high, feeling you stomach coil, “I'm gonna cum– Fuck, fuck, Vada."

Her lips find your clit again, and that’s what sends you over the edge, your thighs clasping around her head so tight she swears her ears start to ring.

You shiver as the brunette drinks you up hungrily, your legs easing their hold on her, chest heaving with shuddering gasps.

“Oh, Vada. Fuck,” you mutter, resting your forearm over your eyes as you try to calm your speeding heart, “That was so... so good, baby. I think you lied to me. Either that, or you’re... a natural.” You chuckle breathlessly, raising a shaky hand to swipe some stray hairs from your forehead.

Your legs move to unhook themselves from the girl’s shoulders, taking pity on her most likely strained muscles, but Vada’s grip turns bruising on your legs. You’re pushed back further into the pillows suddenly, and before you can let out a single peep in alarm, she’s on you again.

Her hands reach to grasp under your knees, bending your legs up, your pussy spread open for her. She doesn’t relent — her hands hold your thighs as she all but buries her face in your heat, the movements of her tongue harsh. Fast. Merciless.

The sudden aggressiveness makes you let out a broken moan, your hands darting to tread through Vada’s hair, wanting her closer but away at the same time, the painful pleasure too much for your scrambled mush of a brain to handle.

“Oh my god, Vada!”

She leans away for a moment to trace two separate stripes from your entrance up to your clit with the tip of her tongue, and you whine, your foggy mind realizing that she has actually just done the letter thing, before she’s back on you like a hungry beast, jaw hanging open to wrap her mouth around your seizing cunt with an obscene slurping sound.

Your back arches as you cum harder than before, throwing your head back against bed and squeezing your eyes shut, your girlfriend’s name tumbling out of your mouth in an almost pornographic moan. You whine as Vada laps at your center with purpose, licking you clean, before pulling away mercifully.

There’s a cocky wolfish grin on the brunette’s face as she watches you open your eyes slowly, trying to compose yourself.

“How was that for a notch on your belt, hm?”

Shit. If you didn’t just experience the most intense orgasm in your life, you’d scoff at the smugness of her tone.

“I’m gonna be honest... I wasn’t sure I’d be into... that,” you say shakily, “But I guess I am now. Jesus Christ, Vada.”

“Just Vada is fine.” She gently caresses your hips, leans down to kiss your jaw lovingly, “Now...”

Her fingers lift the hem of your shirt up to your chest, blunt nails grazing the flesh under your breasts – she watches them rise and fall with your unsteady breaths.

“How about I salt the earth behind me so that no one ever stands a chance of owning you the way I do?”