#THREE AND A HALF WEEKS LEFT!!?!!!???2!!11??!

[wbbfannnnnn13]

Almost, Always - Chapter 14

paige x azzi

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13

A/N: I know it's been a long minute... things just got super busy and I haven't had time to really sit down and write much, but finally got around to it... I'm going to try and write another chapter this weekend since this is another filler chapter. I promise I'm setting things up!! I was feeling a little stuck on where to take things, but had a creative breakthrough. I have no clue how long this series will be, but I'm actually thinking about making a sequel to it... let me know if you'd be interested in a longer story line for this.

Hopefully you like this chapter :)

WC: 4k+

CHAPTER 14: AWKWARD (BUT NOT REALLY) 

Paige POV

She liked being the first one in the gym. Not because it made her look good or gave her some imaginary edge, but because of the quiet. The kind that hummed through the rafters before the machines started clanking before feet started squeaking against the floor. The kind that reminded her of early mornings in high school, of unlocked doors and a ball that didn’t judge.

This morning, the quiet felt earned. Like breathing after a held breath.

She’d slept weird—Azzi’s laugh had drifted into her dreams, tangled with the smell of vanilla and sweat, her hoodie sleeves brushing Paige’s skin like they did when she wore it to bed. She woke up early, restless, chest full of static and something soft that wouldn’t go away.

Instead of fighting it, Paige got up. Quiet. Bare feet on cold floor. She crossed the room and opened the top drawer of her dresser.

The ring box was right where she left it—tucked beneath a folded pair of socks she never wore. She hadn’t opened it in weeks. Not since before the tension.

But this morning? She didn’t hesitate.

She cracked it open.

There it was—still gleaming in the half-light, still hers. Still waiting.

She stared at it for a while, thumb brushing the edge of the velvet like it might answer something. It was simple. Elegant. Chosen for Azzi. She hadn’t bought it on a whim. It had been months in the making. A million texts to her group chat. 

Her mind went back to all that had changed over the past month. She shook her head thinking about the mess. The woman from the restaurant—the one the tabloids had wrongly pegged as her latest fling—had actually been her proposal planner. Someone she’d met with three times to figure out how to ask Azzi in the offseason. Quietly. Intimately. In a way that felt right.

If she’d known the media would turn it into a whole thing, she might’ve been more strategic. Kept it quieter. Waited to meet in a hotel lobby instead of a place with windows. But back then, she hadn’t been thinking about the cameras. Or the commentary. She’d been thinking about her.

She’d been so sure.

Until everything got loud.

The photo. The video clip from college. The whisper campaigns. The silence. Azzi pulling back. The way it all confirmed what Paige had always lowkey feared—that stepping out, even just a little, might blow the whole thing up.

She’d thought it would be her who panicked. Her who couldn’t breathe under the weight of being known. But it had been Azzi who disappeared first.

And for a second—maybe longer—Paige thought that was it. That the thing they’d carefully, slowly built had finally cracked. So she tucked the ring away. Waited. Let things settle.

But now?

Seeing her in D.C. had shifted something. Not with a big talk or some neatly packaged resolution, but in how Azzi opened the door. In the way she didn’t flinch when Paige stepped inside. In the way she let Paige stay, let her close the distance—not just physically, but in every quiet, intentional way that mattered.

The next morning, Azzi had sent her a Snapchat—messy bun, eggs on the stove, Paige’s hoodie hanging off her frame like it belonged there. No caption. She didn’t need one. The note Paige had tucked into the collar was still sitting beside her coffee in the shot.

It hadn’t solved everything, but it had said enough.

She still wanted the playoff run. Still wanted the wins, the highlight reels, the pressure-cooker moments that made her feel alive. But the offseason wasn’t just a break anymore. It was a horizon. A maybe. A real, tangible soon. 

She closed the box slowly and set it back in its spot, safe under the socks, but not forgotten. Not buried.

Then she grabbed her bag and headed out, her steps lighter than they’d been in weeks.

The gym always made sense. But this morning, so did everything else.

She laced her shoes slowly, tightening the loops until they felt like armor. Then she hit play on her playlist—not the hype one, not yet. Something mellow. Just enough noise to fill the space while she found her rhythm at the line.

The ball rolled off her fingertips like muscle memory. One shot. Then another. Then five more in a row. Each swish landed with quiet certainty, like her body had remembered something her mind was still catching up to.

She was okay.

Not faking it. Not bracing. Not running a loop of what-ifs in the back of her skull.

Actually okay.

For the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel like she was holding her breath.

Her shot was clean—part repetition, part release. And threaded through it all, like light slipping in under a closed door, was something she hadn’t let herself feel in a long time.

Joy. Real joy.

Not the performance kind. Not the distracted, this-will-do kind. The kind that settled in her chest and stayed.

The gym doors creaked open. Arike stepped in, her braids pulled low beneath a hoodie, walking like she owned the floor before anyone else even got to use it.

She paused at the edge of the court, arms crossed, watching Paige sink another shot.

“Well, look at you,” she said, grinning. “I’m sensing a whole vibe shift.”

Then, with a smirk that said she already knew: “That ‘someone just got their girl back’ energy is loud this morning.”

Paige caught the rebound and raised an eyebrow. “Relax….”

Arike let out a low laugh. “Whatever love spell you’re under, keep it. Your jumper hasn’t looked this nice in months.” 

Paige chuckled, jogging toward her water bottle. She grabbed it in stride, raised it to her lips, took a slow sip—then froze mid-swallow as the next song came on.

SZA’s “Awkward.”

It wasn’t loud. Just enough to land.

Her fingers tightened around the bottle. Her breath caught in her throat.

And just like that, her whole body remembered.

God. That song.

A memory crashed through her like a skip on vinyl, and suddenly, she wasn’t in Dallas anymore. She was back in Storrs. In a tiny dorm room that had gone too quiet.

It was late. The kind of late that made everything feel suspended—snow tapping against the dorm window in slow rhythm, the rest of campus long asleep or wrapped in something quieter. Inside Paige’s room, the air was warm. Dim. Charged.

Her lamp cast a soft amber glow across the gray walls, throwing shadows over the mess of clothes and textbooks and the bed that looked less like a place to sleep and more like a memory in motion. The sheets were twisted. Still warm. Still lived-in.

The room smelled like cocoa butter. Like dryer sheets clinging to cotton. Like something deeper now—something unmistakably Azzi.

Azzi lay on her stomach, stretched halfway across Paige’s bed in one of her oversized gray UConn tees. It slipped down her shoulder, baring smooth skin and the slope of her back, the line of muscle Paige hadn’t let herself stare at for too long before. Until last night.

Her cheek pressed into the pillow, lashes fluttering. Not quite asleep. Not quite anything.

Paige sat beside her, cross-legged, heart still trying to settle. Her fingers moved slowly through Azzi’s curls like they’d been doing it for years. Like her hands already knew the shape of her.

They hadn’t talked much since it happened.

Since the line.

The line they’d blurred for months and finally, finally crossed last night—no, sprinted across, barefoot and breathless. Wrapped in nervous laughter and stuttered breaths and whispered oh my gods against skin. A night that had gone from tentative to hungry, from soft to frantic to soft again.

It had been hands that hovered—then claimed. Mouths that hesitated—then explored. A map they made up as they went, breath hitching and eyes holding too much.

And then, after?

Stillness.

Not cold. Not awkward. Just... full.

Like the aftermath of something seismic.

Because it had always been building toward this. Every long hug, every brush of a knee under a blanket, every late-night FaceTime that lingered too long on silent smiles. And now here they were. Blinking in the soft aftermath like they’d woken up in a version of their world that had been waiting for them to catch up.

The speaker, still connected to Paige’s phone, crackled softly—and then shuffled into a new song.

“Awkward,” by SZA.

Azzi shifted, the shirt sliding further down her back. She lifted her head just enough to look at Paige, her lips parted, her voice still heavy with sleep and sex.

“Seriously?” she murmured, the rasp in her tone shooting straight down Paige’s spine.

Azzi rolled onto her side, letting the shirt slide off one bare shoulder, revealing freckles Paige hadn’t realized she knew by heart. Her eyes stayed locked on Paige’s, dark and unblinking, like she was reading something there.

The lyrics rolled through the room like smoke. You look at me different, so I let you see my body...

Paige’s breath caught. Her hand was still in Azzi’s hair, but now it was still. Like the rest of her.

“It’s a little too on the nose, don’t you think?” she whispered, a dry laugh catching in her throat.

Azzi didn’t smile, but her lips quirked, slow and private.

“You asking if I regret it?”

Paige shook her head, slow and certain. “No. I already know you don’t.”

Because she did know. Not just from last night, but from the way Azzi had kissed her on that summer night before Paige left for college. Hesitant at first, then like she couldn’t hold it back. The kiss they never talked about after. The one that split something wide open between them. The one Paige had carried with her into every locker room, every away game, every stretch of silence where she didn’t know how to ask if it still meant something.

This moment—this version of them tangled in dorm sheets, speaking in glances and touches and unspoken knowing—it was the answer to all of that.

Azzi’s hand reached out, fingers brushing the hem of Paige’s shorts, then slipping underneath—just barely—drawing slow, lazy patterns into the skin of her thigh.

“I don’t,” she said. “Not even a little.”

Her voice was low. Steady. But Paige could hear the unspoken question tucked inside it—do you?

Paige blinked once. Her heart thudded, slow and heavy, like her body was catching up to what had already happened. She reached for Azzi’s hand, covering it gently, not to stop her—just to hold.

Her voice came out quietly. Barely a breath.

“Me neither.”

She hesitated, then leaned in just enough to rest her forehead against Azzi’s. Let their skin meet before their mouths did. Let her exhale right into the space between them.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she whispered. “I didn’t know if I was making it up.”

Azzi’s hand tightened against her thigh, just slightly.

“You weren’t.”

Paige pulled back just far enough to meet her eyes again. There was something in Azzi’s gaze that steadied her—unflinching, warm, all in.

So Paige kissed her. Slow. Certain. Not to restart something, but to stay in it.

Like she didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Back in the gym, Paige smiled to herself.

Arike looked over. “You good?”

Paige nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just remembering something nice.”

She pulled her phone from her pocket. No hesitation.

Text to Azzi: Guess what just played in the gym.

______________________________________________________________

Azzi POV

She’d felt different ever since Paige left D.C.

Not like everything had magically fallen into place. Not like the universe had handed them some tidy, well-lit answer. But something inside her had stopped bracing. Like her chest had finally unclenched. Like she'd stepped out of a holding pattern and remembered what it meant to move forward without flinching.

The air between them had cleared—not with some sweeping confession or dramatic monologue, but in smaller ways. In the way Paige stood in the doorway like she wasn’t sure if she’d be let in, and how Azzi didn’t hesitate to pull her across the threshold. In the way their bodies fit like they always had. In the way silence didn’t feel like avoidance, but understanding.

No perfect timing. No expectations.

Just warmth. Just touch. Just Paige, showing up and saying without saying, I still want this.

Text from Paige: Guess what just played in the gym

Azzi glanced at the screen, already smirking as she took another sip of water.

Azzi: You’re gonna have to help me out

Paige: SZA. “Awkward.”

Azzi’s grin deepened.

Azzi: Wow. Did it bring you back to the best night of your life or?

Paige: Bold of you to assume I ever left.

Azzi: Fair.

Azzi: Still can’t believe it started playing right after… you know.

Paige: Oh, I know. The universe dropped it like a mic.

Azzi: You were lucky I was too wrecked to bully you about your playlist.

Paige: You were too wrecked to form full sentences. All I got was “oh my God.”

Azzi: Wrong. I also said “don’t stop.” Repeatedly.

Paige: Okay, now you’re just trying to kill me.

Azzi: You started it.

She hit send before she could overthink it. The smile tugging at her mouth was smug, but her pulse was ticking up. Because now she was thinking about it—really thinking about it.

Azzi: With your hands.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. The second she typed it, heat bloomed in her chest. She remembered the pressure, the grip, the way Paige had touched her like she was allowed to. Like she'd always been allowed to.

Azzi: And your mouth.

She paused again. Swallowed. Her breath hitched just slightly. That memory lived in her spine now. Low and full and addictive. Her thumbs hesitated over the next line, then typed anyway.

Azzi: And that thing you did…

She stopped typing. Hitting send before finishing the sentence. Knowing exactly what it would do to Paige. She stared at the screen, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

God, Paige.

Her phone buzzed before she could send another text to finish the sentence. 

Paige: Don’t even finish that sentence.

Azzi laughed, cheeks warm now, heart thudding steady.

Azzi: Make me.

Paige: Say less. See you in Dallas.

Azzi stared at the screen, teeth digging into the inside of her cheek as a slow, involuntary smile crept across her face. Her heart gave one sharp thump.

Oh. So that’s how they were playing this.

She exhaled through her nose, trying to settle the heat that had officially spread beneath her skin.

Azzi locked her phone, still holding it in her hand like it might say something else.

Then she pressed it to her chest and let herself sit in it for a second—just the quiet, the tension, the yes of it all.

Her flight to Dallas was in less than 24 hours. And for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t overthinking it.

She was just excited to see her.

Azzi had started packing for Dallas the next morning, her suitcase half-zipped on the edge of her bed. Practice gear, slides, recovery tools—all the usual stuff. But her movements had been slower, more deliberate. Like each item she folded was helping her mentally shift from everything that had happened back into what was still coming.

Her hand hovered over Paige’s hoodie for a second before she tucked it in beside her compression sleeves. It didn’t smell like her anymore, not really—just detergent and the faint trace of last night’s sweat. But it still felt like something. Like comfort. Like a piece of this quiet new thing they were building.

But even as she tucked it in, something twisted low in her chest.

Paige’s hoodie felt like safety. But the suitcase—it felt like expectation.

The lights, the interviews, the camera shots that always seemed to find her when she wasn’t ready—Azzi was starting to realize that being part of “them” came with a cost she hadn’t fully counted on. Especially when the headlines blurred their names together, or left hers out completely.

And maybe it wasn’t supposed to matter. Maybe it shouldn’t have mattered. But it did.

Not because she needed the attention. But because she was tired of only being seen in Paige’s orbit.

She sat back on her heels, glancing at the open suitcase.

Her phone buzzed—this time, with a FaceTime call.

KK.

Azzi grinned before answering.

“Yo,” KK grinned from her dorm room, sprawled across her bed in team sweats. “Game Two Azzi was a problem. I’m still watching that dagger three on a loop.”

Azzi laughed. “I needed that one.”

KK grinned wider. “You needed all of ‘em. That whole game was a masterclass.”

Azzi shook her head, still smiling. “You’re just saying that because of the and-one in the third.”

“I mean, I am,” KK said, not even pretending to deny it. “You hit that spin move into the lane and had their whole backcourt praying.”

Azzi mock-bowed. “Took a little divine intervention.”

“Please. You cooked, Azzi. That pull-up off the screen in the fourth? Filthy.”

Azzi leaned back into her pillows, feeling the warmth settle in her chest. “Yeah… that one felt good.”

KK pointed a finger at the screen. “That’s the look. That’s the you I’ve been waiting to see again.”

Azzi let out a quiet breath. “It’s been a minute.”

KK nodded. “But you’re back now. Not just the stats. You.”

Azzi bit her bottom lip, gaze dropping for a second. “Trying to be.”

KK’s voice softened, her smile fading into something more sincere. “You good?” she asked again, this time with more weight behind it. “Like—not just on the court.”

Azzi hesitated.

Then nodded slowly. “Getting there.”

KK tilted her head. “You guys get a chance to talk about things?”

Azzi made a face, pressing her water bottle to her cheek. “Define talk.”

KK groaned immediately. “Ew. Never mind. I take it back. I don’t want to know.”

Azzi laughed, but only for a second. Then her smile softened, thinned out around the edges.

“We didn’t talk much. Not with words, anyway.”

KK rolled her eyes. “That’s gross, and also not shocking.”

Azzi didn’t fire back. She sat with it for a second, then added quietly, “But it was good. Really good.”

KK leaned back into her pillows, eyes narrowing just a bit. “So then… what aren’t you saying?”

Azzi hesitated. The humor faded from her expression as she stared past the screen for a second.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I think… I think I’m still trying to figure out if it’s okay to want something for myself in all of this.”

KK didn’t move.

Azzi kept going. “It’s not just the noise. It’s everything. Sometimes I feel like no matter what I do—how well I play, what I come back from—it’s still always about her.”

KK’s teasing faded instantly. “You mean the spotlight?”

Azzi exhaled slowly, letting her gaze drift toward the ceiling. “Not always. But yeah… sometimes.”

Azzi nodded, slowly. “Back when we won the natty together…. I was MOP. I had the comeback I worked so hard for. And I was so proud of that. But it was still Paige’s moment. And I didn’t mind at the time. I really didn’t.”

She looked down, voice quieter.

“But now? I wonder if I’ll ever have something that’s just mine. Where I’m not Paige’s girlfriend or Paige’s teammate or the girl standing next to her in the photo.”

She rubbed her fingers across the bridge of her nose. “And I feel like an awful person for even saying that. Because I love her. I do. And I want her to shine. I just… I want to know that I can, too.”

KK let the silence hang for a beat.

Then she leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “You’re not awful. You’re human. And you’re not the only person who’s ever loved someone with gravity.”

Azzi looked back at the screen.

“And yeah, Paige draws attention. But that doesn’t cancel out what you are. You’ve got a different kind of gravity, Azzi. One that doesn’t have to compete.”

Azzi’s eyes stung in that annoying way she always hated.

KK smiled. “You don’t have to dim to stand beside her. And trust me, you are already a name. You just haven’t fully stepped into it yet.”

Azzi exhaled slowly. “Yeah,” she said. “I think I needed to hear that.”

KK grinned, letting the moment sit for a beat before leaning back into her pillows again. “Anytime. That’s what I’m here for—emotional wisdom and unsolicited trash talk.”

Azzi laughed, tension finally loosening in her chest.

KK raised an eyebrow. “Just… maybe next time, talk with your words first. Then do the other stuff.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “We’ll try to be more verbally productive next time.”

KK smirked. “Please do. I’m too invested in this storyline to have it derailed by your inability to use full sentences post-makeout.”

Azzi shook her head, smiling for real now.

“Shut up,” she muttered, still laughing.

“Never,” KK shot back, already blowing her a kiss before hanging up. “Good luck in Dallas, superstar.”

Azzi set her phone down on the nightstand, the ghost of KK’s voice still lingering in the quiet.

She sat there for a moment, just breathing. Letting the silence settle, not as something empty—but as something earned.

Tomorrow was Game Three. The kind of game that demanded everything. That rewrote storylines, shifted narratives, and exposed legacies. She wanted to win—of course she wanted to win. That would never change.

But for the first time, it wasn’t just about the scoreboard.

And that’s where the knot sat in her chest—tight and quiet and pulsing beneath the surface.

Because even now, even after everything with Paige felt steadier, everything else still felt loud.

The restaurant rumor. The assumptions. The headlines that made Paige and their relationship look bad. Some of the headlines didn’t even use her name. Just ‘girlfriend of star guard.’ Like she was a tag, not a player. She hated how invasive it had all felt. How easily they became content instead of people.

She’d always loved being part of Paige and Azzi. The rhythm of it. The safety. There was comfort in standing next to someone the world already adored. Paige could take the spotlight, the scrutiny, the pressure. And Azzi? She could just play. Just be.

She’d liked it that way.

Until recently.

Until she realized she wanted something more.

Not more than Paige. Not instead of her.

Just more for herself.

She wanted a career that wasn’t measured in Paige comparisons. She wanted postgame interviews that didn’t pivot to questions about their relationship. She wanted her name to be the one in bold sometimes, not just mentioned in passing as a girlfriend, or a return-from-injury storyline, or a quiet second.

And that realization came with guilt.

Because she loved Paige. Loved her with her whole chest, with a history that stretched across dorm rooms and playoff tunnels and late-night calls when her knees ached and her hope did too.

But still—she couldn’t pretend she didn’t want her own thing.

Her own legacy. Her own moment. Her own light.

Paige had both. The platform and the partner. The headline and the hand to hold.

Azzi wanted that too.

And she was tired of feeling like she didn’t have permission to say it.

KK had been right. She didn’t have to dim just because Paige already shined. They could shine differently. Side by side.

She wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring. Who would win. What the world would say about them next.

But she was sure of this: she wasn’t going to wait around for clarity.

She was going to speak it.

She pulled Paige’s hoodie from the top of her suitcase and slipped it over her head. The sleeves still stretched past her fingers. The fabric smelled more like detergent than vanilla now—but the weight of it? That still felt like home.

She pressed her palms to her knees and whispered to the room:

“I’m ready.”

[electronic-elevator]

have this feeling I'm going to become steadily more unhinged abt diapers b/c I can't wear any for another three and a half weeks

[connormoving]

wed have 11 if we 1. assumed i did go to preschool and 2. count 9th (which could be argued. i was their at least halfsies but it got cut off) 10 (less arguable. i dont think this counts) and 11 (This does not count .)

[ebsmind]

THREE POINTS | nico hischier x fem!reader

summary : after the devils have finally had enough with their losing streak, you make a bet with nico, however many game points he gets against the bruins is how many times you get to cum. good thing nico was determined.

word count : 1.8k

warning(s) : 18+ MDNI, smut, oral sex (f!receiving), dirty talk (kind of? idk), dom!nico, this is also not proofread and that’s it i think!

a/n : i started writing this at midnight and i wanted to do it in one sitting but i was TIRED so i finished it when i woke up. i hope this is good bc this is my 3rd time writing smut and i for once actually TRIED and went into writing this confidently. ALSO i got the idea right after they won the game against the bruins so i just had to bless yall with something 😋 OKAY BYE ILY ENJOY!!!

The waning crescent’s luminous hue reflects upon the New Jersey city. The street’s usual busy nature has died down. There's still half an hour left of the day. Most people have gone to bed, ready to start another Thursday. Thank God it’s nearly Friday, but the day hasn’t ended for you. 

Waiting for Nico to return home from a game always took an hour and a half. No less, nor more. So, when Nico pushes the front door to your shared apartment at a striking 11:37, knowing him he checked the mail, it leaves you to no surprise. The overview from the living room gives you a perfect view of the front door. You watch his every move from the sofa, the tailored cushions sit softly upon your skin. He closes the front door and locks it, a loud ‘click’ goes off to confirm that the lock is in place. The mail is the first thing to be tossed, it hits the counter with a soft ‘smack’, and next goes his keys, which were pulled from the left pocket of his trousers. With a sigh, Nico’s left hand runs over his face and once it reaches his chin, he looks forward and makes eye contact with you. 

“Hi, baby.” His accent is still prominent when he speaks, but you find it adorable. He starts walking towards in your direction, you toss the beige linen blanket off of your lap and rise from the couch in response. You take a total of 2 steps before Nico reaches you. Your arms find their place upon Nico’s shoulders almost immediately. His, upon your waist. A whiff of soft vanilla musk hits your nostrils, Nico took a shower at the arena rather than at home. 

“Congrats on the win, my love.” A soft smile forms upon your face. The win was a long time coming, Nico had been working his ass off the past week and it paid off tonight at the Prudential Center. 

“How many points, Schatz?” As Nico questions you, you attempt to break away from the hug but to no avail, Nico’s hands don’t plan on leaving your waist anytime soon. 

“Three, three points.” Your response leaves your mouth almost immediately.  You know where this was going, as promised before he left for the game against the Boston Bruins.

While Nico was picking out his suit for the arrival of today’s game, a quick thought appeared in your head. You stalk quietly behind him, he’s deciding between a classic black suit and a darker red, almost burgundy, tailored suit. Nico can feel your presence behind him, and he turns to face you. 

“I think the black one, no?” As he questions you, his right-hand raises. He’s holding a black tie, and in the other hand is a tie that matches the burgundy suit. You take a second before you give your input. The black suit was a classic but had already been worn, the burgundy has yet to be worn. It’s fairly new, Nico got it back in November but wanted to wait for the right moment to wear it. 

“Black but no tie, you’re going to take it off before you even get to the arena." Nico takes no time to face back in his original direction, taking the black suit that's draped on a wire curtain and returning to the bedroom. You follow suit, watching Nico place the suit on the bed. A soft 'thud' rings in the air when the suit hits the white linen comforter. Before Nico can take a step to head over to the dresser that sits just under the 55-inch flat Roku TV to put away his ties you cut him off with a question.

"Can we make a bet?" Nico reaches the dresser and pulls the drawer open, as he folds the ties he answers your question.

"What kind of bet, Schatz?"

You take a small breath before telling Nico the thought that had crossed your mind nearly minutes ago. "If you score or get any assists, you get to make me cum as how many times you do."

To your dismay, Nico isn't appalled by your suggestion, in fact, he almost challenges you.

"What do I get if I don't?" He's facing you now, hand resting against his hip. A smirk is spread across his lips, he's amused by your proposition. You pause since you didn't even get to think about what would happen if he didn't get any game points.

"I get to finally tie you up." You return his amusable smirk, two can play this game.

"I think we have a deal baby."

The soft squeeze against your hips brings you back from the semi-distance memory. You tilt your head up and look into Nico's dark chocolate-pooled irises, his face written in desire. Before you can form a proper thought, Nico's head tilts into your own and his lips are set against yours. The kiss is soft but as his lips entangle with yours it grows with need. His right hand surfaces up from your hip to cradle your jaw, keeping you in place. Nico deepens the kiss by swiping his tongue into your mouth, as much as you try to fight for it, he won’t let you win. He’s finishing something you started, determination is all that Nico is running off of. You run your left hand up his neck and rest it once your fingertips feel a light fuzz. Deciding to wait to play with the hair on the back of his neck, you’ll drive him crazy later. 

At the speed of a lightning strike, Nico picks you up by the waist with one arm, the other previously on your jaw, and finds its place against the back of your thigh. The skin exposed from the small floral shorts that Nico plans to discard later. Nico maneuvers the pair for you to the dining room and places you on top of the cool walnut-colored dining table. His lips finally escape yours, instantly finding themselves on your collarbone in record time. Nico places small kisses upwards on your neck and once they reach a spot they are all too familiar with, his teeth sink into the soft skin. A soft gasp leaves your mouth but then is conceded by a moan when Nico soothes the small ache by running his tongue over the semi-red spot. The sound released from the back of your throat goes straight down into Nico’s slacks. Your grip tightens against the back of Nico’s neck, never wanting him to stop. 

Nico quickly detaches himself from your neck to pull off the oversized New Jersey Devils crewneck that you wore. He takes a look at your chest and notices the lacy fabric that hugs the swell of your breasts. The 6’1 hockey player lowers himself to where his lips rest right above your ear and whispers, "You drive me fucking crazy, Schatz."

A blush forms across your cheeks as a response to Nico’s statement. Nico has finally had enough and decided to finally put himself useful to his bargain of the bet. He kneels in front of you, eyes connecting with your clothed core. A small wet spot appears on the floral-printed cotton shorts that rest against your hips. His hands come up from his lap and head towards the waistband of your shorts, he grunts to signify for you to lift your hips. Your hands help you steady yourself against the wooden table when you lift your hips so Nico can discard the main article of clothing you have on. Once Nico tosses your shorts and panties aside, he gets a hold of your right leg and lifts it to place it against his shoulder. Before he continues, Nico looks up at you, eyes connecting once again. You take notice how Nico’s pupils look inflamed, filled with lust.

Nico takes hold of the leg that's perched up against his shoulder and slowly starts to kiss his way up your leg. Starting at the base of your ankle to your inner thigh, never breaking eye contact. It’s crazy to think how Nico knows how to get you so hot and bothered quickly but you weren’t one to complain. Especially seeing him on his knees getting ready to devour you. 

Before Nico digs in for his midnight snack, he brings his hands to rest on your waist once again. He guides you to sit at the edge of the table. He finally has full access to your sweeping wet core and without a second left to spare, his mouth makes contact with your folds. He licks a stripe from your core to your clit. Your head tilts back and a low moan escapes your body like a prayer, as if Nico is the god you praise upon. 

Your right hand leaves its place against the table and immediately finds a refugee in Nico’s damp hair. Your fingers run through his rich deep brown locks, encouraging Nico to take a step further. Your hips buck closer to Nico’s mouth when he inserts his ring and middle finger into your mound. The pornographic moans that form from the soul of your chest are a symphony to Nico’s ears. Your hips start to grind into Nico’s mouth, he knows you're close. 

“Look at me, baby.” He pulls away from your clit, his fingers never leaving your mound. You obey, like a good girl. Nico’s tongue finds itself back onto your clit, in response a soft whimper leaves your mouth. The more Nico indulges into your mound, the more you can feel yourself falling apart. Your gummy walls start to contract and Nico knows you need one final push to get yourself on the leaderboard. With one final flick against your clit and stroke into your core, you come undone. Your body convulses, eyes flutter closed, and all you see is black. 

After a couple of seconds, you’re brought back to earth. Nico stands, towering over you, he’s licking his fingers clean of your juices. Once his ring and middle finger leave his mouth, he uses that hand to bring up a chair. It screeches against the tile of the floor. Before Nico sits on the chair, he removes his trousers. Carefully placing them on top of the dining room table. Once the chair is positioned right in front of you, he sits. His legs spread open, his hard length pressed against the soft fabric of his black boxer briefs. You still have yet to move from your spot on the edge of the table, legs still feeling like jelly after an earth-shattering orgasm. Nico opens his mouth to command one thing. 

“Come on, Schatz,” he pats his thigh, “You still have two more to go.” 

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

This is the end guys :')

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

cw: modern au, chronic pain, one vague suggestive joke

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Remus woke before dark this morning. Your hair tickled his cheek, and he realized that you’d drawn closer to him in the night, your body half on top of his and his arm curled around your shoulders as though to keep you there. Remus’ other arm was asleep, trapped beneath Sirius’ ribs. Somehow, on a twin bed, the three of you had managed to get close enough that there was room to spare. 

He didn’t move, but something about Remus’ waking must have caught your attention. He saw your eyes open through the darkness. You’d likely already been rousing, as he had, your body gearing up for a practice that wouldn’t be taking place today. You turned your face up to see him, and the two of you shared a fond, sleepy smile. Then you kissed his chin and went back to sleep. 

It had been a late night. Not the bad kind, but it left you all tired nonetheless. After a long day of talking to press, shaking hands, and celebrating your silver medal (not gold, but Remus reasoned that it wasn’t such a bad thing to lose to the undisputed best skating duo in a generation, and after some pouting even Sirius had agreed. When you stood next to Virtue and Moir on the podium, you’d looked so starstruck Remus was worried you’d faint) you’d been eager to be alone with each other. You’d talked until nearly morning, tenderhearted conversations that perhaps might have taken less time if you’d all been less easily distracted by each other or if Sirius hadn’t made that joke about his parents that made you fall off the bed laughing. Remus can’t bring himself to regret the detours. 

Neither of you seem to either, though Sirius laughs when you yawn in line to drop off your baggage at the airport.

“What is that, five yawns since we’ve left?” he teases, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and smushing a kiss to your cheek. “Poor girl.” 

“Shut up,” you mumble, leaning into his side. “I’m not used to being up all night like you are.” 

“Well, you’d better get used to it, baby.” 

Your brow wrinkles. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

Remus laughs, giving Sirius a little shove. Sirius responds by bumping his hip into his own suitcase, forcing Remus to readjust his grip. You shoot Sirius a condemning look. 

In the spirit of good coaching, Remus had volunteered to carry your bags. He’d been more concerned with getting you and Sirius into bed over the last few days than ensuring you were properly stretched out, so when you’d both complained of soreness this morning he felt the need to make it up. You had completely refused and said you’d carry your own, but Sirius had relinquished his hulking suitcase readily; he did, however, insist upon massaging and kissing Remus’ hip for twenty minutes before they left for the airport to prepare it for the journey. 

“Don’t worry,” Remus tells you. “You’ll have plenty of time to sleep in after today.” 

You blink. “No practice?” 

“I think you deserve a couple of days off.” 

“A couple?” Sirius raises an eyebrow. “We just won silver at the Olympics. I’d say we’re due a week at least.” 

Remus eyes him, biting back a smile. “Maybe four days,” he says. 

“God, four days.” You blow out a breath. “What are we gonna do with all that time?” 

Sirius makes a pffting sound. “Like you won’t be at the rink anyway.” 

“Like you won’t be there, too.” 

“Take some actual rest,” Remus chides, ignoring the ridiculous warmth in his chest; it’s obscene how listening to your teasing has become such a comforting familiarity. “You’ve been working hard, you need it.” 

“Alright, Coach,” Sirius says with mock solemnity. “If that’s what you think is best.” 

Remus looks at you. 

You roll your eyes, relenting. “Okay.” 

“Good.” He smiles, winding an arm around your waist and tugging you from Sirius’ hold to press a kiss to your head. 

“Hey!” Sirius protests. 

You laugh. The warmth in Remus’ chest flares again. It’s odd to think about the person he was when he left home to coach you two, and how much has changed since then. Remus had been grieving, a years-long grief, focused only on what he lost and uninterested in trying for anything new. He’d been lonely without knowing it, isolated and purposeless, but you and Sirius had defied his expectations in every way imaginable. He thought he’d simply coach you, take you to the Olympics, and go home. Now, Remus’ sense of home is different than what it was before. 

He wants to stay with you. He’ll coach you and Sirius for as long as you’ll have him, and if someday he’s not what you need anymore he’ll find someone else to coach. He thinks he’ll need to get an apartment instead of an Airbnb, someplace to unpack his things and make his own, preferably with three chairs at the kitchen table and a bed big enough for all of you. He wants to continue feeding off the energy of you and Sirius in your element, readying you for competitions, making you the best you can be. Maybe eventually Remus will get back out on the ice, too. Not like he used to, never to compete, but maybe just for fun. It doesn’t sound so daunting when he imagines skating with you and Sirius alongside him, there to catch him if he falls. 

You’re looking up at him with a small, curious smile. Remus realizes he must be looking mortifyingly in love. “What?” you ask. 

“Nothing.” He kisses you, partly because he wants to and partly to watch your smile bloom in full. It does, and Remus relishes the feeling. Like standing in a pool of sunlight. 

“Oi.” Sirius glares, relaxing only when Remus kisses him, too. He grins and takes another for himself, delivering a playful nibble to Remus’ lip. “That’s more like it.” 

“We’re going to give the woman at the counter a heart attack,” Remus notes. “She looks terribly confused.” 

“Probably just starstruck,” Sirius says without looking. 

“Oh, shit!” You smack your forehead. Remus and Sirius both frown, Sirius taking your hand in his to prevent further damage. “I was going to steal one of the Olympic mugs from the dining hall, and I forgot. I need to find a souvenir.” 

“Ooh, should we get shirts?” Sirius’ expression turns eager. “Something like I went to the Olympics and all I got was this stupid t-shirt.” 

Remus thinks of the silver medal in Sirius’ backpack and actually guffaws. Both you and Sirius beam at him. “I think you got a bit more than that.” 

You laugh and loop your free arm through Sirius’, drawing both boys close. “That’s true.” 

[cxffecoupx]

sundays

choi seungcheol x reader pure fluff, very domestic allowing their partner to sleep in because they were overworked anyway and need the rest with scoups wc: 995 warnings: mentions of food author's notes: first request from the prompt list. thank you so much anon! most of the feelings i wrote this with comes from all the stress last week, so this was pretty healing for me to write. also i tried a different style in this, not sure i liked it at first, but do lemme know what you guys think. also, i love domestic, boyfriend seungcheol, if it wasnt already obvious.

saturday; 8:26 p.m.

the soft vibrations startle you in the quiet hum of the library. people look towards you, some annoyed, some with no particular expression on their faces. dead inside.

somewhat like you.

you mutter apologies as you rush out with your phone. seungcheol's name lights up the screen. you pick up the call.

"hey baby."

"hey, cheollie."

"have you eaten yet?"

"no; i still have a little to finish the chapter. so maybe after that..."

"baby..." you swear you could see the pout on his face when you hear his voice. "how many times have i asked you not to starve yourself?"

"cheol, i'm not starving, i promise to eat after this chapter."

"you want me to order something for you?"

"no no, i'm good. i'll grab something from the cafe. i gotta go, i'll call you when i reach room, okay?"

after a hum, you end the call and go back to your table.

-----

saturday; 11:52 p.m.

you were writing notes - two three textbooks open on the desk, along with your laptop, and notebook on your lap, your pen tucked above your lips as you ponder something. the weighted blanket covers the chair and your figure, and although sleep is fluttering in your eyes, the thought of having to physically get up and out of this cozy comfortable cocoon makes you wanna sleep in the chair itself.

your phone buzzes with a text, making you groan because you'd have to pull yourself out of the position you're currently in. you do it anyways, and see that seungcheol had sent you a text.

big baby🍒: you up for a walk? me: i have to study me: :( big baby🍒: who are you kidding? big baby🍒: we both know youre falling asleep rn me: >:( me: but you make a good point me: when are you leaving? i'll get ready big baby🍒: already in front of your door

you get ready quickly and open the door to find seungcheol waiting out, cheeks red and lips shivering. you smile as you pull his face to yours to kiss his lips, mumbling a weak excuse that it's to warm them up. he wraps his scarf round your neck and interlinks your hands as you head for the walk.

when you return an hour later, it's with much reluctance that seungcheol says he should leave. but then he pouts every half minute after muttering his decision.

"do you wanna stay over tonight?" you offer, knowing fully well he would never reject. he doesnt even hear the whole question before he's kicking off his shoes and entering your room. you head over to your wardrobe to take out some of his clothes he'd left behind at various points of your relationship and bring it to him. when he's done freshening up, he comes out to see you settling back into your cocoon, head deep in the books. he decides to keep company as he lays on the bed, scrolling through his phone.

-----

sunday; 2:57 p.m.

seungcheol had fallen asleep some multiple times in between keeping you silent company, but when he wakes up now, he's full awake and shocked to see you still sitting at your desk, now with some snack packets littering around. he decides to walk over and call you to bed, but that's when he notices that your eyes are half-closed and your head hanging in a way that makes him wince. drool almost makes its way down your chin before he takes a tissue and wipes it off. he gently nudges you awake.

"yn, baby. you need to get to bed. come on now."

he's honestly surprised when you easily comply, maybe because of your half-asleep state, because usually you'd reject and sit for some time more. the walk that he'd planned to tire you out had worked, he thinks to himself, as he supports your asleep body to your bed and lays you down, tucking you in the soft, weighted blanket - your favourite - before settling in beside you.

as he drifts back to sleep, he hears you murmur to him.

"seungie, wake me up early tomorrow, okay?"

it's only after he reassures you that he will that you finally wrap your arms around his torso and settle into the warmth of his chest before falling asleep.

-----

sunday; 11:17 a.m.

seungcheol is awakened by you snuggling closer to him. it's way past the time he was asked to wake you up at, but he wouldn't dare wake you up when you seemed to sleep so peacefully. that too on an off day? he could never.

he takes his sweet time admiring your features during this moment of calm: your eyelids that are open in the slightest, the little sniffs with each breath you take because winters meant you're cold at every passing moment, the hair that fell out of the neat bun you made before going to bed, puffy cheeks that seem to move as you chew on something in your dream (he guesses). his urge to touch your face overpowers every other thought as he lightly traces his finger along the line of your brow. this seemed to have woken you up because you sigh before opening your eyes; the first thing you see in the morning being his handsome, bed-face that's smiling towards you.

a view you could never get tired of.

you press the lightest of kisses on his lips and turn to check your phone. panic seeps into your brain within a millisecond when you realize its way past your wake-up time. you sit up in a swift motion.

"cheol, i asked you to wake me up at 7!"

"relax baby, it's a sunday."

"but-"

before you could argue back, he sits up and places a smooch on your lips.

"no buts. you don't have to rush every time; it's alright to take breaks."

another kiss.

"good morning, baby. let's go make some pancakes."

[yenhan]

TF141 & International student neighbor pt. 2

Next - Masterlist

The day had been long. We’re talking are-we-sure-it’s-not-weekend-tomorrow long. You'd spent most of it hopping between the university hall and the immigration office, trying to track down a document they’d somehow lost again. Three times in a row, how could a public institution lose a non-criminal record so many times? Did they feed their paperwork to a magical tiger pet kept under the desk? You were starting to suspect they stored things in a black hole powered by bureaucracy and spite. At some point, a clerk told you to come back “next week, maybe, if you’re lucky,” and you almost threw a chair at him. With violence. But you didn’t. Because you were superior and an adult and had exactly two tissues left in your bag; you weren’t about to waste one when it was barely 11 o’clock in the morning.

So, like any competent and mildly running-on-caffeine person, you went to Aunt Wang’s for food.

Oh, Aunt Wang was yelling. God may help her victim…

Her tiny shop, wedged between a butcher’s and a century-old pharmacy, survived on selling frozen dumplings, cheap snacks, and the occasional expired energy drink. In a nutshell, every broke student’s three Michelin stars restaurant. You’d long given up questioning how she got imported curry fish balls from Malaysia or why she always knew when you were low on laundry detergent. Aunt Wang knew everything. She also had opinions about everything. Especially when her prices were being questioned by two men who looked like they’d survived war zones but apparently couldn't survive the cost of instant noodles.

You were halfway through shoveling pre-cooked egg fried rice into your mouth when you heard the familiar ruckus. At first, you thought she was scolding the delivery guy again for mixing up her cartons of rice wine and white vinegar. That happened two days ago; the lad scurried off crying after bravely succumbing her ire for 6 minutes and 11 seconds. Yes, you timed it. Speaking of Lads™, half of your dream team was there.

“Eight pounds? For fungus?” John Price raised an eyebrow at a pack of Swiss brown mushrooms.

Wang shot back in rapid Mandarin. Something about inflation and people not appreciating the labor of small shop owners. Gaz was next to him, holding a suspiciously dented can of coconut milk like it might explode. “We just want to make curry, not buy the entire rainforest.”

Price grunted. “Back in Basra, we could get ten of these for a quid.”

Wang cut him off with a menacing 老外 and 吃不起不要吃. You coughed loudly to hide your chuckles, setting down your microwaveable rice bowl. Your oh-so-stealthy cover couldn’t possibly work when your neighbors had already memorized every detail of your laugh and smile like tattoos carved on their brains. You didn’t know that, though.

You turned your head from the wobbly plastic table you were squatting at, clutching your chopsticks like they were lifelines. There he stood, your favorite Captain Beard himself. And lovely, lovely Gaz, sleeves rolled up, trying not to choke on air. "Translation?" The younger man asked hopefully.

You sighed, stepping in. “She says if you can’t afford it, go cry to your government, not her. Also, that your beard makes you look like a fisherman whose Finding Nemo campaign failed.”

Price blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

Wang pointed at him, nodding. “老水手。”

“Old sailor,” you said promptly. “She’s not wrong.” Price looked vaguely betrayed at that quip.

You helped settle the argument with a few words and a reminder that Wang would accept payment in cash and only in exact change. When Price asked why, you whispered, “Last week someone paid her with a coin from 1986 that turned out to be a game token.”

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, handing over the coins.

You sat on the wooden stool near the register, tucking into your rice, warmth spreading from your mouth down to your frozen toes. Wang had even added a boiled egg, on the house. You must’ve looked extra pathetic today; that was basically a declaration of love from her. The men lingered by the exit, fiddling with their bags of groceries like they weren’t sure what to do next. It was awfully endearing. Gaz finally leaned over, looking at your bowl. “That any good?”

“Best three-minute meal in the UK,” you replied through a mouthful. “Better than those jellied eels you and Johnny persuaded me into trying. I may not have forgiven you yet for that stunt.”

Price walked past and placed a hand on your shoulder. You swore it wasn’t tears burning your eyes at his offer. “We’re making curry. You can come. Or don’t, it’s up to you, kid.”

Gaz added, “There’s beer, too. Not the good kind, y’know. Not poisoning-inducing, though.”

Your eyes prickled. You didn’t cry. You absolutely did not. You had the waterworks in full blast in front of Simon just last week; your dignity was still reeling from that. And the scolding the captain gave you afterwards because you should’ve just gone to them, they would make it better.

“Thanks,” you murmured. “I might join if I finish my reading.”

“Bring your books, Johnny likes reading aloud when he’s drunk. Calls it ‘dramatic education.’” The sergeant raised two fingers over his shoulder.

Lifting your head just enough to be heard, you called after them with a crooked grin. “Only if he agrees to put more effort into the Italian accent, he sounds like Super Mario on steroids. And tell Ghost he better not just stand in the corner judging us like some emotionally repressed Batman. He’s reading the villain lines, or I’m not coming.”

Price muttered something about "bloody spoiled brats." It was a start.

Woke up to a couple of hundreds of notes and felt like a confused cat meme. Anyway, I got plenty of random ideas for this, enjoy!

[f1version]

26 BIRTHDAY KISSES ★ CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x gf!reader ( she/her )

summary: 26th birthday, 26 pictures of you and Charles kissing. A kiss for each year.

notes: i’m back from my birthday trip!! i wrote this birthday special in like 30 minutes and it’s still charles’ birthday in a couple of places so… i’m not exactly late! enjoy <3

26 KISSES: A GALLERY

By your beautiful girlfriend, in collaboration with a lot of people but mainly Joris and ourselves.

1. DRUNK DANCING: A month after we got together, we were at Arthur’s 18th birthday. We got drunk, singing and dancing to the worst playlist in existence (Lorenzo’s) and, somehow, Arthur got to capture this moment I barely even remember.

Taken by Arthur Leclerc, 2018

2. AUGUST 2019: Summer break, so sweet so loving. You made me promise that if you jumped off first, I would jump too. It took me fifteen minutes to follow after you. Also your kisses were incredibly salty.

Taken by Joris Trouche, 2019

3. THE MONZA INCIDENT: I had red lipstick the night you won in Monza, you told me it looked pretty, I asked you to kiss me, you did. Fast forward 8 minutes it was all smudged over your lips, you were 10 minutes late to the post-race conference, and Sylvia almost banned me that night. (I’m still kind of banned from your driver’s room)

Taken by Charles Leclerc, 2019

4. UNDER THE COVERS: 2020, what a crazy year. This one was taken the day we decided to finish moving in together. You were so excited, wanted everything to be perfect. Today I can say it is.

Taken by Me, 2020

5. WORDS: We were spending Christmas by ourselves, we face-timed our families, had dinner and watched movies. You gifted me three beautiful words I, of course, said back… and we also got a puppy!

Taken by Charles’ phone timer, 2020

6. OCEAN BREZEE: Just a small escapade to take a breath. You were so cuddly that day, Joris was so done with you (he still took the pic though)

Taken by Joris Trouche, 2021

7. CUTE OR HOT: I just wanted a cute morning selfie but, because of you, we ended up in a…promising mood. It was intense that’s all I have to say!

Taken by Me, 2021

8. KISS KISS KISS: 24th birthday, 24 kisses. This kind of became a tradition, let me know if you still want them this year!

Taken by Me, 2021

9. DRUNK AF: How did we got so drunk? Ask Pierre, he was the one hosting. Either way we got another amazing photo of us drunk-kissing!!!

Taken by Pierre Gasly, 2021

10. UNDER THE SEA: I’m just going to say that you and your ‘photo ideas 📸’ folder are attached by the hip. I personally love this one (even if it took half an hour to take)

Taken by Joris Trouche, 2021

11. NEW YORK: Thought you could scape this one? Never! Arthur and I didn’t spend a week listening to your complaining for nothing, babe. You must admit that this kiss was magical, everything was so pretty that day. And then it started snowing!

Taken by Arthur Leclerc, 2021

12. EXPOSED: Remember how our amazing soft launch got ruined by our trip to Ibiza? Well, here it is, the image we couldn’t stop laughing at when it came out, we really thought we were sneaky.

Taken by unknown, 2022

13. HARD LAUNCH: A week later we were kissing on live TV. It’s one of my favorite memories, I couldn’t stop smiling.

Taken by F1 TV, 2022

14. BACK KISSES: Just a picture of the morning after I learned that you can convince anyone, even the CEO of Ferrari, to allow you to leave sponsor events early. I really don’t know if you knew those kisses were there, but I woke up to this, took a picture and then left you with them until we took a shower.

Taken by Me, 2022

15. SPONSORED BY AIRMAX: That time your team forgot to book us a flight and you had to ask Lando to ask Daniel to ask Max if we could go back to Monaco with them. I’ve never seen Max talk so much, Daniel laugh so loud or Lando taking so many pictures. He even asked to take one of us, here it is:

Taken by Lando Norris, 2022

16. SIXTEEN: I bet you thought this one would have something to do with racing. Number 16. Sorry to disappoint but it’s our beautiful puppy…Sixteen! I’m not gonna lie, I still hate you for persuading me into that name. Anyways if you kiss the dog you kiss the mom!!

Taken by Me, 2022

17. 25 KISSES: Again, tell me if you want those 26 kisses this year. Look at us last year!

Taken by Me, 2022

18. NEW YEAR, SAME LOVE: Sometimes the world feels unreal when I’m with you, this was one of those days. I felt in another reality, the world slowed down, it was just you and me. I remember thinking “I fell in love with the right person” and then you kissed me.

Taken by Joris Trouche, 2022

19. BLACK SUIT: Remember when your fans thanked me for your “new” outfits? They repeated it was the girlfriend effect, you couldn’t stop talking about how stylish you are with or without me!

Taken by Me, 2023

20. PHOTOSHOOT: You got Joris to take these shots just because you wanted a new wallpaper. I thought it was silly, until one day all of them were hanging around our home. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Charlie.

Taken by Joris Trouche, 2023

21. FIVE STAR CHEFS: Not much to say, just sorry for being so distracting and thank you for the amazing (stolen from Ferrari) dinner babe!

Taken by Charles’ phone timer, 2023

22. RED LIGHTS: This year’s addition to our drunk-kissing collection. I remember you drowning shots with Carlos and Pierre, asking me to dance with you, absolutely failing at that, and then kissing me. After that there’s blurry ferrari red, giggles and a hot bath.

Taken by Andrea Ferrari, 2023

23. LAZY IN BED: Wonderful lazy days by the ocean, that’s how we spent the summer break. That morning in particular you didn’t want to get up, basically gluing me to bed. We got up at 1pm.

Taken by Me, 2023

24. JUST ONE QUESTION: Can I drive the purosangue now? Please please please

Taken by Me, 2023

25. LOVER: This day I woke up thinking about those dreams we talk about all the time, you even remembered me a couple of them throughout the day. Charlie, I do want to do this for the rest of our lives, never forget it <3

Taken by Arthur Leclerc, 2023

26. TWENTY-SIX: We are just 26 but I hope our story keeps on writing itself. I love you, these have been the happiest 6 years of my life. Happy birthday bébé ❤️

Taken by Joris Trouche, 2023

[notscarsafe]

OKAY SO what with the TWO new Hermits implied by the updated banner I will say that, though the Skizz truthers have me convinced, I now have room to do my own crazy red string monologue and throw my hat in for my choice

1) Mythical J. Sausage (the J is silent) is a multitalented S-tier builder that absolutely deserves to be shoulder to shoulder with the Hermits. The man does buildings, interiors, terraforming, custom trees, and he does them SO WELL.

2) The production values!!! Beautiful replay mod sequences with shifting camera perspectives, shaders, music that sets the tone for each segment that's different from series to series. He already has more than a million followers on YouTube and for good reason!!

3) He has been SO consistent lately. He started a hardcore world about three months ago (about the time you might expect the Hermits to finalize their s10 choices maybe...???) and already has 15 episodes and hasn't gotten involved in any other big content. (He did just start playing a little of the BCG server but from what I understand that's super casual /copium copium copium).

4) That hardcore world is conveniently about to reach a good "pause" point. He started his world on a cherry blossom biome island that he's filled with a medieval village and starter farms, he's said it's almost full and what's left is the castle. I'm guessing the new season will start the first week of February, so if Sausage puts out a video this week building out that Castle and finishing that island it will be MIGHTY CONVENIENT TIMING.

5) This man can GRIND. His Hardcore world hasn't even been going half a year and he's built... So much??? Magnificent! And when he was on the Hermitcraft server he did the Razorcrest for scar AND the player head baby yoda/stormtrooper merch AND the noteblock themesong AND still built in the xmas village and other "diamond of peace" and so many other shenanigans. Did the man even sleep? He can grind with the best of them.

6) He can do redstone, too! Maybe not unique designs, I honestly don't know, but he builds farms for build materials no problem.

7) The DRAMA this man loves his improv and his backstory and trauma lore! For every series he does! Can you imagine if he gets to interact with Ren for an extended period of time, what that would do to them, to us?? Give Martyn a run for his money!!

8) Which brings me to my next point, which is that Sausage is already One of The Gang, because he's been in series with so many of the Hermits already! Empires and the crossover, obviously, but also Pirates with Cleo and Origins with Scar, and he's even done MCC! Joel is the only other player with the same depth of different series but there are other people truthing him already.

9) The EPIC BROMANCE with Pearl. My god the devotion of this man to his sunflower goddess bestie. I would try to do ot justice but y'all have seen floweroflaurelins work, you already know.

10) He's already a PG streamer but with HILARIOUSLY PG-13 tendencies. Imagine him and Cleo cracking each other up at an HHH stream, *grips your shoulders* IMAGINE IT.

11) Sausage comes with his own mascot in the form of interdimensional dog extraordinaire Bubbles, but he's also just an animal lover on general. Mans drinks his "I love Jellie" juice and had her in his world even before the sad news of her loss.

12) Diversity win! No one should be hired just for their gender, race, sexuality etc etc unless it's truly necessary to the job, but we were all happy when more women got added to the server in s8 and I know a lot of people would be happy to see some ethnic diversity added, too.

... That bulletin board had a lot more pins in it than I thought it did but anyway MYTHICALSAUSAGE TRUTHERS/ALL OTHER TRUTHERS RISE UP SPEAK YOUR TRUTH! we'll only get to wildly speculate for a few weeks so we might as well make it everyone else's problem ENJOY IT TO THE FULLEST!!

[celiastjamesoscar]

Say Yes to Heaven

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: It was never Sam’s intention to fall in love with you, but after countless nights tangled up in sheets together, she fell for you. But her love came with consequences, and she knew she could never provide you with the life you needed. So she broke up her arrangement with you, breaking your heart in the process as well.

Trope: friends with benefits

Warnings: mentions of smut at the beginning, angst, insecure and extremely soft Sam, cussing, Sam protecting reader from herself (Sam), self-destructive Sam, Billy slanders Sam

My Masterlist

AN: ‘Say Yes to Heaven’ heavily inspired this. In Lana we trust!

Word Count: 11.8K

With a heavy sigh and a small prayer, Sam clocked out of the cafe. It was nearing 11:30 at night, and she wanted to sleep and maybe do a few fun activities with you before that.

When Sam moved to New York, she was ready to put her past behind her and steer clear of relationships for a while, at least until she met you.

You were working on a project with Tara when Sam first met you, and she was immediately enthralled with you. Where Sam never smiled, you always wore a smile on your lips, and where Sam had dark, haunting eyes, yours lit up every room you walked in.

You and Sam were complete opposites, but you fit together like puzzle pieces. So, when Tara had invited you over for a late-night hangout with the group and got a few beers in the mix, you walked past the bathroom and heard Sam talking to herself.

“You okay?” You worriedly asked as you gently knocked on the half-opened door. Sam turned her head and gave you a weak smile, “Yeah, I’m okay.” But how her eyes refused to meet your own and her eyes seemed darker told you a different story.

So, you approached the woman and placed your hand on her tricep and gently rubbed up and down, trying your best to comfort the girl. “Just so you know, I’m here for you, Sam. I always will be,” you said with a smile.

She didn’t know why, but when Sam was with you, you always quieted her father’s voice, and when she pressed her lips against yours, his voice was completely gone.

The soft and eager kisses you shared in the bathroom were your first with her but certainly not your last. The gasps and muffled moans that escaped Sam’s lips were the closest you had ever been to magic, but you were quickly pulled back to reality when Sam pulled away and left you in the bathroom.

You continued the night as if nothing had happened between you and the older woman, but when you got up to go to the bathroom, Sam slipped a note in your hand as she returned to the living room from her bedroom. You nearly fainted when you read the beautiful penmanship that said, ‘My room at 2.’

When the time reached two, and thankfully, everyone else was asleep, you snuck off to Sam’s room and were instantly greeted by her soft lips assaulting your own. The soft moans you pulled from Sam sounded like angels singing, and when you tasted her, you knew you could never get enough. If God would allow it, you would live and die between Samantha Carpenter’s thighs, and it would be the best life you could possibly live.

And that’s how your arrangement came to be with the woman; two or three times a week, you would meet up and have sex but act like friends in public. You weren’t going to lie; it hurt you, but you wouldn’t complain as long as you had her.

Recalling your first time together, Sam smiled as she drove to her apartment and eagerly sent you a text asking you to come over once she got home. By the time she arrived at her place, she only had enough time to take a quick shower before you were eagerly knocking at her door.

The smile on your face was almost comical when Sam opened the door and quickly pulled you into a kiss. Your lips danced with hers as you stumbled into her room and locked the door. You gently pushed Sam down on the bed and peppered kisses along her jawline and neck. “Is Tara home?” You muttered between kisses on her neck. “No. Mindy’s,” Sam said heavily as her fingers started to scratch down your back.

“Good,” you replied before kissing Sam’s lips and removing her shirt.

You kissed down her chest and removed her bra before worshiping her breasts. Your lips left a trail of soft kisses and rough hickeys as they traveled from her neck to her sternum and down to her hips. Even though Sam was tough on the outside and pretended like she didn’t need to be taken care of, she was the softest with you.

The sex you had with Sam was the softest and most genuine you had ever had before, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything. The way Sam would intertwine your hands when you were buried between her thighs, eating her out like she was your last meal on earth was something that had your heart do flips, and when she pulled you up to her lips and gently cupped your cheeks before kissing you; you knew she liked it soft more than anything else.

You loved the beautiful pleas and moans that left Sam’s lips as you gently kissed and nipped at her thighs before focusing on where she needed you the most. And you groaned when you felt Sam’s hand fly into your hair and tug, roughly encouraging you to keep it up.

The aftercare was probably what you enjoyed the most; the way Sam wanted to be cuddled after her orgasm to remind herself that you wouldn’t leave her made you fall in love with her. You would provide her with water and maybe even some snacks while you prepared a bubble bath for you two to share, and Sam melted into your hold as she relaxed her back against your front, enjoying the hot water with you. When you would wash her hair and run your fingers through it, a few involuntary moans would escape Sam’s lips, and you would chuckle before placing a few chaste kisses on the hickeys that littered her neck.

“I love it when you do that,” you would mumble against her neck and Sam would slightly turn her head and press her lips to yours, silently telling you to keep it up.

There were rare moments throughout your life where you were sure about something, but you were confident that your purpose on this earth was to please and cater to Sam; you would live and die a happy life if that were all you did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The soft sound of labored breathing could be heard within Sam’s room. After countless hours of enjoying each other’s bodies, Sam lay naked on your bare chest. You traced gentle patterns on Sam’s back with your left hand while you held Sam’s hand with your other, and she kissed your collarbone before leaning up to look at you. “Can I tell you something?” She asked with honest eyes even though her tone seemed scared.

You didn’t know about Sam’s past, and she was grateful for that, even though she was positive you knew about the rumors circulating on the internet about her. But you never asked, and she felt that she owed you for that. Sam was comfortable with you, which terrified her; when she was comfortable, she was vulnerable, and Sam didn’t know if she could trust you. But when she looked into your eyes and saw nothing but love and understanding, she knew she could trust you with everything; her body, her heart, her soul, her past.

You placed a quick kiss on her lips before speaking in a quiet tone, “Of course, Sam; what is it?” With a sigh, Sam leaned her head on your chest and told you everything: how her actual father was Billy Loomis, how her adoptive father left, the Ghostface attacks, her drug addiction, her schizophrenia, and how she saw her dead father, everything.

Sam expected you to get up and leave or tell her that you wanted to break things off. Hell, she even expected you to scream at her and leave her too, but when she felt you place the softest kiss on her head and whisper, “You’re still my Sammy,” all her worries disappeared. She knew it wasn’t a part of your deal, but she slowly felt herself falling for you, and you also fell for her.

Sam leaned up from your chest and stared into your love-struck ones. “I don’t deserve you,” she choked out with a laugh as tears welled in her eyes. You shook your head and cupped Sam’s cheeks with your hands. “Don’t you ever say that, Sam. You deserve to be loved; you deserve to have someone in your life who cares for you and will do anything for you. You deserve to know what peace feels like,” you stated as you kissed her Cupid’s bow, “Samantha Carpenter, you deserve all of the love in the world.”

And when you spoke, Sam knew she was doomed to fall in love with you, but she also knew she was unloveable.

So, she did what she thought was best for you: she broke it off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I think we should stop this,” Sam admitted one night while you were at her place. You two had the entire apartment to yourselves, and you had been tasting each other for hours. Sam lay on your chest when she spoke but leaned up and moved to hang her legs over the side of the bed as if she was getting ready to stand up. The statement caught you off guard, and you thought it was a joke.

“What? Why?” You asked with a dry laugh as you moved to your left side and gently reached out and rubbed Sam's naked back, but the girl flinched at your delicate touch. “Sam, what’s wrong?” Your heart dropped into your stomach when your lover flinched at your touch, something she had never done before.

“I just think we should stop this,” Sam replied while standing up and walking to her closet. She couldn’t face you while she did this; if it made her coward, so be it. If she saw the heartbreak on your face, she would never forgive herself.

You huffed before leaning up in bed and holding the blankets over your chest.

You admired Sam’s naked body as she picked through her clothes and threw on a loose t-shirt and some sweatpants. “Give me a reason,” you stated, clearly leaving no room for negotiation. “I don’t want to do this anymore,” Sam replied as she gathered your clothes and handed them to you.

With a scoff, you snatched your clothes from Sam and quickly threw them on. “I know you said that, but why? Why would you tell me that after I just fucked you?” You exclaimed with bewilderment in your voice. This wasn’t the Sam you knew, and you knew that something was bothering her.

Sam refused to meet your gaze and crossed her arms, something she only did when trying to isolate herself, “I just think it’s time we moved to different things.” A dry laugh left your lips as you sat down on the end of Sam’s bed. “Different things?’ Sam, you don’t spend six fucking months sleeping with someone and then just decide out of nowhere you don’t want to anymore!” You exclaimed.

“Yes, I can. It’s called having a change of heart. And besides, we both agreed to no strings attached,” Sam defended. You saw the tears in her eyes and how her voice broke when she spoke, but it didn’t make you feel any better.

“Yes, but that was before…” You trailed off with a sigh, “That was before I fell in love with you. I love you, Sam.”

A single tear ran down Sam’s cheek as you spoke; she felt her heart rip into tiny pieces as she took in your confession. She wanted nothing more than to tell you that she loved you, yearned for your soft kisses and sweet words and that her life would mean nothing if she didn’t have you. But Sam knew that she could not provide you with a good life; her schizophrenia would drive you away, along with her haunting past of drug addiction and the Ghostface accusations. She believed she was helping you in the end, even though you couldn’t see it.

“Please, do not say that,” Sam quietly admitted as her lip quivered and another tear fell down her cheek, “Not now, Y/N. Please.”

You moved from the bed and gently gripped Sam’s wrists, and she finally made eye contact with your sullen eyes. “I know you feel it too, Sam. Please, I’m begging you, Give peace a chance, and let the fear you have fall away,” you pleaded with a weak voice as your vision blurred with tears, “Say yes to me.”

Sam knew that if she said yes to you, she’d be saying yes to heaven and all the wonders that included letting herself love you, but it would ruin your life.

With a shake of her head, Sam pulled back from you, “You don’t want me, Y/N. I’m too fucked up to give you the life you deserve, and I’m trying to protect you from that.”

“Fuck that! I want you, Sam. I need you,” you exclaimed as you felt your heart break even more and tears streamed down your face, “Tell me you want me too. I know you do. We do everything couples do, Sam. We go to dinner together, we share a bed, we kiss and have sex. Fuck, we even go on dates together, and I even bring you flowers!”

Sam wrapped her arms around you and gently kissed your forehead as you cried into her chest and gripped her back. “One day, I’ll find someone who isn’t the schizophrenic daughter of a famous serial killer, and they will give you the best fucking life you could possibly have, Y/N. Which is something I can’t give you,” Sam choked out as her tears started to freefall.

You pulled away from Sam’s chest, and your chest tightened when you saw how difficult this was for her. You knew she was only doing this to protect you, but you didn’t want her protection; you wanted her. You both wanted each other, but perhaps this was the best course of action.

With a small sniffle, you left Sam’s room and went to the front door to leave, but you sent Sam one last glance. Sam approached you and handed you your keys and phone. “You might need these,” Sam joked, but it wasn’t funny at all.

You swallowed any pride you had left and kissed her hard for a final time, and you nearly cried when she kissed you back and gripped the back of your neck, pulling you into her and feeling your soft skin against her own for the last time. “You don’t have to do this,” you muttered against her lips, but she pulled back from you and opened the door. “I know, but it’s for your own good,” Sam replied as you stepped out into the hallway.

That was the problem with Sam; she always did things to protect others from herself. She never allowed herself to enjoy things in life, and that even meant you. Sam’s own mother had told her that she was unloveable and she shouldn’t waste her time on relationships because no one would ever want her, so she didn’t want you to waste your time with someone like her. She wanted to allow herself to love, cherish, and kiss you; she longed to tell you that she loved you, but her past traumas prevented her from telling you, so she loved you from a distance.

So when you walked down the hallway and Sam closed the door to her apartment, you felt your heart close for good with it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The days after your split from Sam were blurs; you went to class, did your homework, and slept. You did this for weeks, and you never talked to anyone, too heartbroken to care. You missed your home; you missed your Sam. She was your world, your everything, and in the blink of an eye, you were stranded with nowhere to go.

You could go any you wanted, anywhere you wanted, just not home.

And that killed you. You had never felt heartbreak like this, and you were sure that you would never recover from it. Of course, you knew other people would come along, but no one would ever compare to Sam. You would do anything to have just one more night with her, but you knew it would never work as long as she refused to believe that she deserved happiness.

When you stumbled into your apartment around ten at night, you heard hushed voices in the living room, but you paid them no mind and went into your room.

You had kicked off our shoes when you heard a gentle knock at your door. “Go away,” you replied as you gathered clean clothes for a shower.

The door quickly flung open as Anika marched over to you and forcefully shoved you into your bed. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” She hissed as she stared you down, “You have been so goddamn moody this past month, and you don’t talk to anyone! What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, Anika,” you replied while standing up, but Anika refused to let you get by. “Nope, I don’t believe you. Tell me,” the girl commanded, but you had no mind to tell her what was wrong.

“I’m fine, seriously. School is just getting to me; that’s all,” you said with a fake smile, and Anika did not buy it for one second. But she knew you would talk about it on your own time, so with a sigh, she went to your bedroom door but stopped and faced you, “Just…Come out and talk with the group; they miss you.”

You didn’t have any time to ask Anika who the group was before she left your room and shut your door.

With a sigh, you went into your bathroom, took an excessively long shower, and only got out when no hot water was left. You slowly got dressed and sat on your bed for five minutes, debating if you really wanted to go and socialize, but you sucked it up and left your room.

When Sam saw you enter the living room, her heart cried out for you. Your once bright eyes had dark bags under them, and your cheeks looked hollow, as if you weren’t eating enough. And that beautiful smile you once had was nowhere to be seen; a fake one lived in its place. She knew this was her fault; she was just trying to protect you from her, but seeing you like this destroyed her.

Sam wouldn’t lie; breaking things off with you was the hardest thing she had ever done, and missing you was far worse. She missed you like the stars missed the sun in the morning sky, and she only wanted to have you back, but it was for the best. Not only did she have a lot of baggage, but she was a full six years older than you, and by the time you were her age, you would have already started your life with someone who had their shit together, not a dead-end job and no college degree.

You gave the group a fake smile as you sat in a lonesome chair in the corner of the room. The group consisted of Mindy, Anika, Chad, Tara, and Sam. The woman you loved was sitting on the opposite side of the couch, and you tried your best to keep a great distance between you and her without raising eyebrows.

“Alright, I’m just going to cut to the chase: What the fuck, Y/N? You disappear out of thin air on me, and you don’t return any of my calls,” Tara stated as she looked at you. She didn’t know what had happened between you and her sister, but she had her suspicions once she saw Sam with a hickey on her neck after you came over.

“I’m sorry, Tara. I really am. I have just been swamped with homework, and I’ve been studying for the MCAT,” you stated as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, not expecting this integration from the more petite girl. It wasn’t a complete lie; the MCAT was murdering you, and you were solely running on coffee and Red Bull, but you weren’t in the mood to admit your love affair with Sam to your friends.

“Mhm,” Tara replied as she glared at you. She didn’t believe you at all and knew something else was bothering you, but she wasn’t going to question you about it in front of people, but she will do it when you two are alone. “So then, would you want to come to my place for a movie night this Sunday?”

You thought about the offer momentarily; you wanted to have a night with your friends, but you didn’t want to be around Sam. “Sure, what time?” You asked while sending a quick glance at Sam, and you noticed that her eyes hadn’t left you since you first walked into the room.

When your eyes locked, your hearts quickened and soon started to beat in sync, as if you two were soul-tied and the universe knew it. You saw how Sam’s dark eyes were darker than usual and how there were stress lines between her eyebrows, and you swore you could see the faintest of gray hair. A slight frown pulled at your lips when you finally realized how much Sam wanted you, but she told herself she couldn’t have you.

“Sometime around 7, if that’s alright with you,” Tara replied with a small smile, completely ignorant about your stare-down with her sister. “Sounds good. I shall be there,” you said.

A small groan left Mindy’s lips as she pushed herself off the couch, “Thank god you two got that sorted out; now it’s time to drink,” she stated as she walked into the kitchen area and pulled out two six-packs.

With a loud thump, Mindy sat them on the coffee table before you and the group, “Anyone thirsty?”

One drink turned into two, two turned into three, and then many more as the night continued. When the time rolled around to one in the morning, you were definitely drunk off your ass, but the alcohol helped numb the pain in your chest.

You were sitting on the couch next to Tara as you watched a comedy movie with the group due to Chad’s selection. “This is such a shitty movie,” Mindy whined while throwing her back to add more effect. A scoff came from Chad as he faced his sister, “‘Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan’ is an awesome movie, actually. You just don’t have taste.”

“That title is the reason this movie sucks,” Mindy replied but shut up once Anika laid her head in the twin’s lap.

You conversed with Tara while Chad watched the movie, and Mindy and Anika fell asleep on the couch together. Sam was sitting on a small chair next to you and Tara but made no effort to join your conversation.

“So, seriously, Y/N. How come you ghosted me?” Tara asked with a slight frown. She missed having you over every weekend even though you only stayed to be knuckles deep in her sister at some point throughout the night.

You fidgeted with your fingers while looking down at the floor, “I’ve just been…” you didn’t know the correct way to word this without throwing Sam under the bus, “I’ve been going through some stuff, and it sucks.”

The younger girl moved closer to you and gently took your hands into her own, “You’re my best friend, Y/N. You can tell me about anything that’s bothering you.”

“I know; it’s just not something I want to talk about. I hope you can understand,” you replied with a weak smile. You felt Sam’s guilt-ridden gaze on yours, and you couldn’t bear to look at her. ‘I’ve got my eye on you,’ Sam thought to herself as her worry grew with every second that passed.

“I understand,” Tara said as she gave your hands a caring squeeze before pulling them back and leaning against the back of the couch, “You know, Sam has also been going through something as well.”

When the words left Tara’s mouth, you instantly perked up, and your eyes locked with Sam’s guilt-ridden ones. “Tara, that’s not for you to share,” Sam remarked through gritted teeth as she stared at her sister. “I know, but maybe that’s something you two could talk about,” Tara stated as she stood up from the couch and stuck an arm toward you and Sam.

You shared a quick glance with Sam and a silent conversation with her before you grudgingly took Tara’s hand and allowed the girl to pull you up from the couch. She did the same with Sam and led you two into your bedroom.

“Do not come back out until you two have talked about your problems,” Tara said with a knowing smile as she locked the door from the inside and left. “I can literally unlock the door,” you mumbled under your breath as you walked to the door and unlocked it.

You sighed as you turned around and faced Sam, and you almost frowned at how out of place she looked. The woman before you had been in your room countless times before, and she practically knew it like the back of her hand, but now, she was just as awkward as when you go over to someone’s house for the first time.

“You can make yourself at home, you know,” you said as you walked to your bed, took off your shoes, and sat down. You rested your back against the headboard and brought your feet onto the bed as Sam approached your bed. “Is it alright if I sit with you?” She quietly asked, and your heart cracked at how weak it was. The voice used to be full of love and certainty, but now it was only a ghost of itself.

“Sam, you’ve been naked in this bed before. Of course, you can join me,” you said with a small laugh before Sam copied your actions from before. When she got comfortable on your bed, you two sat in awkward silence as you stared forward, neither knowing what to say but wanting to say everything.

You looked over at Sam’s, and you noticed the frown on her lips as she battled with her thoughts. “I miss you,” Sam breathlessly admitted, “I know it’s fucked up and wrong of me to say this, but I really do miss you.”

“I miss you too, Sam,” you replied. A wry laughter Sam’s lips, and she choked out, “Some nights, I’ll wake up in an empty bed and think that you’re either in the bathroom or up talking to Tara, so I wait for you to get back. Only, you never show up.”

A small tear ran down your cheek, and your lip quivered as you tried to keep your composure. “I got so used to sleeping in your arms that most nights I cuddle with Squid to go to sleep,” you joked through a broken voice, and Sam couldn’t help but laugh as well.

Squid was your cat sent straight from Hell who hated any affection but somehow loved Tara and only her. Probably because they were both small and evil, but you shrugged it off as both of them being like-minded. You looked at Sam and noticed her hiding her hands in her bomber jacket pockets, something she only did when she saw her father.

“You saw him again. Didn’t you?” You worriedly asked. You knew how Sam got when she saw Billy, and the only way to get her back to her normal self was to comfort her, but she wouldn’t let you do that after she destroyed your heart.

Sam didn’t respond to you, debating on whether she should tell you that CVS ran out of her antipsychotics a few days ago, and Billy was starting to get more persistent. “I’m fine; nothing new,” Sam replied while refusing to meet your piercing gaze.

Of course, you knew she was lying, but you would never pressure her into talking, and it was one of the many things she loved about you.

“Well, if you ever want to talk about it,” you said as you reached over to Sam and gently placed your hand on her thigh, “I’m always here for you.”

Sam’s eyes shot to your hand, and heat instantly crept up her neck at the contact. “Thank you, Y/N, but I’m fine,” Sam mumbled.

“Okay, but if you need anything, you can always call me Sam. No matter what it is, I’ll drop everything and come to you,” you said as you gently squeezed Sam’s thigh before removing your hand and placing it in your lap.

A few awkward beats of silence passed before you quietly asked, “So, how have you been?” Sam chuckled at your question. “You seriously did not ask me that,” Sam joked.

“I don’t know what else to say,” you replied with a small laugh, “But seriously, Sam. How have you been?”

Sam looked at you, and she saw the genuine concern in your eyes. “I feel like I should be asking you that question,” Sam weakly replied. You shrugged your shoulders and smiled at Sam, and the older woman felt all the love she felt for you come flooding back, and all she wanted to do was kiss you.

Instead of giving in to her urges and desires, Sam, once again, decided what was best for you. She got off your bed, and your eyes followed as she opened your door. “This is goodbye, isn’t it?” You asked when she was halfway out the door.

Sam turned to face you, and you saw the tears in her eyes, showing a rare emotion. “I believe so,” Sam replied with a weak smile, “Goodnight, Y/N.” And with that, Sam left your room and shut your door.

Once again leaving you. And for the first time, you let her go without a fight; you simply couldn’t take it anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’ve been seeing someone,” Sam blankly admitted one night with Tara. The two sisters were in Sam’s room, and Tara was cuddled up next to her sister as she dozed in and out of consciousness, but she eagerly shot up at Sam’s statement.

“As In hallucinations or dating?” Tara asked with a raised eyebrow. Knowing Sam, it could be both; she hoped it was the latter.

“Yes, as in dating, you fucking asshole,” Sam huffed under breath as she sat up in bed. Tara moved off of Sam completely and sat crisscrossed on the bed. “Who is it?” Tara asked with an idea of who it was.

She wasn’t stupid; she noticed how you suddenly stopped coming over the mood shift Sam had gone through. And Tara also noticed how Sam’s eyes were always bloodshot, as if she had been crying.

“Promise me you won’t get mad?” Sam asked.

“I cannot promise you how future Tara will react to the news I am about to receive,” the younger sister replied with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

With a small sigh, Sam looked at her sister before confessing, “I had been sleeping with Y/N for six months.”

Nothing. That’s all Sam could hear: nothing. Not even the sound of her breathing or the AC running; it was silent. She was ready to leave when Tara exclaimed, “I fucking knew it!”

The younger sister wrapped her arms around Sam and gently shook the girl back and forth, “I fucking knew it!! I called it!”

“Called what?” Sam asked as she pushed out of Tara’s tight hold and looked at her sister’s eyes full of excitement. “I knew you and Y/N were together since I first saw a hickey on your neck after she ‘disappeared’ somewhere!” Tara replied while making air quotes.

“Whatever, just don’t get too excited about it. We aren’t together anymore,” Sam mumbled.

“Well, I figured as much. You have been extra grumpy lately, and Y/N has been more reserved.”

“I am not grumpy!” Sam defended.

“Yes, you are! You get grumpy when you go a period of time without sex. And it only started when you got with Y/N!” Tara remarked as if she had been studying Sam’s behavioral patterns for a while now. “So, why did you break it off with her?”

“Because she can do much better than me,” Sam admitted. Tara took a few minutes to think about her sister’s words before speaking, “And why is that?”

Sam scoffed, “What do you mean? She can do a lot better than me. I don’t have a college degree, I work two shitty jobs, and I’m six years older than her.”

“Sam, I love you, I really do. But do you think Y/N cares about an age gap? That woman would murder someone just to go on a date with Jennifer Aniston; I think you’re fine. And Y/N wants you for who you are, Sam. Not something you are trying to force yourself to be,” Tara replied, and Sam had to admit, she had a point. “I know, it’s just different,” Sam weakly retorted as she rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“So what happened then? You freak out and push her away?” Tara blatantly asked. She knew how her sister pushed people away when things got rough for her, and to be frank, it hurt her to see Sam push away the people she loved just to protect them from her.

Sam dropped her hand down to her lap and fidgeted with her fingers while she thought about how to word this. Yes, she did break things off with you and push you away, but it was also something more serious than that.

When it came time for Sam to get serious in a relationship, she always ran away from it. But this time, she was ready to get serious with you. She wanted to share a home with you somewhere; she wanted to wake up in bed with you every morning for the rest of her days, and if she was lucky enough, Sam wanted to marry you. And that terrified the shit out of her.

Being in a committed, long-term relationship horrified Sam; she was scared of being stuck with someone and unable to get out. But when she was with you, the only thing she could think about was how beautiful your name would sound if it ended with ‘Carpenter.’

“It’s complicated,” Sam finally said with a shrug of her shoulders, hoping Tara would let it slide.

“No, it’s not! You just have commitment issues,” Tara exclaimed with her hands.

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh really? Then how come you broke up with Y/N?”

“Because…” Sam finally realized that she did, in fact, have commitment issues, “because I am scared to get serious with someone,” she whispered, afraid that Tara would judge her.

Tara moved closer to her sister and gently took Sam’s hands. “Sam, I want you to listen to me, and you listen well. Y/n loves you. Okay? I know that scares the shit out of you, but she really does. She would do anything for you, even if that meant letting you break her heart. But please, do not let this once-in-a-lifetime relationship slip out of your fingers because you are scared to commit to it. Okay? If you really do want a relationship with her, then please tell her, and do not push her away, because a human can only take so much heartbreak before they are too broken to care about others. Please don’t do that to Y/N.”

Sam took Tara’s words as guilt and regret spread throughout her body. Of course, she loved you, but she was afraid that if she told you, you would run away in fear and never talk to her again. But now, as she listened to her sister’s words, she realized she might have already done that. Sam just hoped it wasn’t too late to make it up to you.

With a small sigh, Sam got up from her bed and excused herself to the bathroom. When she walked in and shut the door, she was greeted by her ever-loving father.

“It’s been a while, Sam,” Billy acknowledged while staring at Sam through the mirror. “Please, not tonight,” Sam quietly replied as she grabbed her toothbrush.

It had been a week since CVS ran out of her medication, and she started to see Billy everywhere: the reflections on the train windows, in the puddles of rain that scattered the cracked sidewalk, she even noticed in the corner of her room once, and that was the first. Sam had always seen him in reflections or mirrors, never by himself, and she knew it was only the beginning when she caught the faintest glimpse of him in her corner.

“You never want me to talk to you, Sam. It’s honestly quite insulting,” Billy retorted with a snort, clearly amused with himself. “Honestly, Sam. Why do you hate me?”

A loud scoff left Sam’s lips as she tried her best to keep him quiet, hoping that Tara wouldn’t have to see her talking to Billy. “Leave me alone,” Sam whispered as she wet her toothbrush, put some paste on it, and brushed her teeth.

“Leave you alone? Are you insane? What would you do without me?” Billy exclaimed. Sam didn’t respond to her father as she continued brushing her teeth and ignored the lecture she was getting about following in his footsteps.

“Seriously, Sam. How could you fumble Y/N?” Billy joked as Sam spit out the toothpaste and rinsed out her mouth. She could excuse her father talking to her about murdering people, but she drew the line at slandering you. “That’s enough,” Sam dryly replied as she began flossing her teeth.

“No, it’s not. I might be a figment of your imagination, but I will be damned if I let you pass up on Y/N! That’s just bad parenting,” Billy defended as he crossed his arms. “What are you going to do to get her back?”

“Nothing,” Sam commented as she threw away the string and turned to leave. “Sam, please. Don’t let this pass you up. You will regret letting Y/N go for the rest of your life if you don’t go after her,” Billy reasoned but stopped talking when Sam turned off the light and left the room.

She didn’t need to get lectured by her serial killer father right after her sister finished preaching to her, but maybe he gave out some good advice occasionally.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The week following your conversation with Sam was typical, even though you occasionally cried yourself to sleep and woke up in the middle of the night looking for Sam. And you had miraculously found yourself another suitor.

Of course, you looked at other women following your split from Sam, and you put them into two categories: Sam and not Sam. And no one else seemed to fill the void that Sam left, even though one girl came close.

She was your age and was attending your university when you ran into her at a party, and you two hit it off. You both shared a love for books and nature, but when you were with her, you felt nothing, only longing for your beautiful Latina.

“Are you even paying attention?” Ashley asked as she snapped her fingers before your face, pulling you away from your thoughts.

“Mhm? Oh, yeah. Sorry about that,” you mumbled as you looked around the library. It was later in the evening, and you and Ashley were studying for your MCAT together, but all you could think about was Sam.

“Well, then,” Ashley said with a playful smirk on her lips, “Would you like to go on a date with me sometime?”

The question had caught you off guard, and you certainly weren’t expecting her to be so forward about it. “Um, yeah. Just let me know when,” you replied with a fake smile that Ashley didn’t pick up on. “Sweet! I’ll text you the deets! See ya!” Ashley said as she stood up from the table and kissed your cheek before waltzing away.

The kiss surprised you, and when you felt her lips on your skin, you didn’t feel anything. Not a single spark, and it didn’t make your stomach get tingly like it did with Sam. So, in your eyes, she was just another Not-Sam. But when she texted you late one Thursday, asking you out to dinner on Saturday, you couldn’t find yourself to say no.

Even though she never compared to your Sammy, you were willing to settle for a nice enough girl who had the same career path as you. And hopefully, you could find it in yourself to love her one day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saturday night had arrived, and for the first time in two months, you got dressed up for a date. You and Sam had made a habit of going on dinner dates at least once a month, as you both hated the idea of classic dates. Your normal dates would consist of small hikes, going to the movies, sometimes watching a local play, shopping at the local bookstores, picking out flowers for each other, and the occasional date where she would pick out a tattoo for you to get.

The thought of getting matching tattoos disgusted you, but you had no problem with letting Sam pick out a tattoo for you, as long as you agreed with it, of course.

You wore a simple black suit with a sheer shirt, classy but still showing a bit of skin. Naturally, you had no intention of trying to impress Ashley, but you wanted to dress up, and it felt good to get fancy occasionally.

Your phone dinged with a text from Ashley, telling you that she was heading to the restaurant now, so you grabbed your keys and jacket and left your room to tell Anika that you were leaving.

When Sam saw you enter the living room dressed in a nice black suit with the jacket in your hand, she felt her heart rip and almost lost her breath. She had killed you, but it killed her just the same. Seeing you dress up for someone who was clearly not her hurt in more ways than a bullet to the brain ever would.

“Alright, Anika, I’m leaving,” you said as you approached the couch and gave Anika a fist bump. You tried your best to ignore the tension in the room as Sam stared at you.

“Let me know if you’re bringing her back here or going over to her place,” Anika said with a smile. She was glad to see you finally leave your room and go out with someone, even if she hated the woman you were going with.

“Sounds good,” you replied with a weak smile that faltered when your eyes landed on Sam. The Latina had a blank expression, but her eyes told a thousand stories. You could see the heartbreak in them, along with the love and yearning she felt toward you. You wanted to say ‘fuck it’ and finally get rid of all this angst between you two; she was your lifeline, and you needed her like the ocean needs the moon, but you knew breaking things off was for the better.

So, when you cleared your throat and said goodbye to the group, you let a lone tear fall down your cheek at the thought of losing your Sam.

When you left the room, the group of friends let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding. “Sam,” Tara whispered as she reached for her sister’s hand, but Sam pulled away. They all knew of the situation between you and Sam, and all four of them hated saying you two this way.

“I need a moment to myself,” Sam said as she pushed herself off the couch. “Are you sure that’s a good idea right now?” Tara asked with worry laced in her voice.

“I’ll be fine; I just need to be by myself for a while,” Sam replied as she left the room, went outside to the backyard, and sat at a table. She allowed herself to think about all the times she had with you, and she slowly felt you slipping through her fingers. You were once her home to come back to on a hard day at work, but now, she had nowhere to go.

No one understood her the way you did, and she desperately needed you back, but she would not ruin your date. Sam had been the one to break things off with you, and she needed to pay the consequences. When she heard your car pull out of the driveway and drive down the road, she finally broke down crying, and you weren’t there to catch her.

She didn’t know how long she was crying until she heard the back door creak open, and Tara walked out of the house and approached her. “Sam,” Tara breathed out as she walked to her sister and wrapped her right arm around her, pulling her sister into her chest. “It’s okay, Sam. I’m here for you.”

Tara gently rubbed Sam’s back as she comforted her sister, not knowing what to say to improve it.

After a few minutes, Sam’s cries turned into soft sniffles as she pulled away from her sister. “I take it you didn’t talk to her?” Tara weakly asked. “Nope,” Sam replied with a small laugh, “I guess I deserve this, don’t I?”

“No, you don’t. Well, I mean kind of. You did break it off with her, but still, you deserve love,” Tara commented as she tried her best to comfort Sam but still gave her the hard truth. Sam lightly laughed at Tara’s words while wiping away her tears.

“My entire life, I have been told that I’m destined to be alone, that no one will ever love. My own fucking mother told me that I was unlovable, and I believe her. So when I fell for Y/N, I broke her heart to try and save mine, but it killed me. The only thing I want to do is run to her and tell her that I love her, but I can’t do that because she found someone else, someone who will treat her better than I ever have, and she will give her a better life than I ever will. I pushed away the only person who has ever loved me because I was too much of a coward to say, ‘I love you,’” Sam admitted in a broken voice, and Tara felt her heart break for her sister.

A few beats of silence passed before Sam spoke, “Do you know who she’s going out with?” She knew she would only get hurt by asking, but she needed to know if you had found someone better than her, praying that you did just so she had the final confirmation that you didn’t need her, even though she needed you.

“Sam,” Tara quietly said, afraid to tell Sam the truth, but her sister's look told her that Sam needed to know or else she would not sleep. “The girl’s name is Ashley, and they met at college. They are both in pre-med together.”

The look on Sam’s face was comical; her expression was pure relief even though her eyes told the opposite story and were full of guilt, regret, and longing. “Good. Good,” Sam muttered with a voice full of confidence, “I’m happy for her.”

Tara nodded at her sister’s words, having no idea what to say to make the situation better for Sam. “I guess so. Are you ready to come inside?” Tara asked.

“No, not yet. I just want to be left alone,” Sam replied with a weak smile.

The younger sister nodded at Sam’s words and kissed Sam’s head as she stood up, “Okay, just please let me know if you need anything.”

“I will,” Sam said as she watched Tara walk away.

The sound of crickets chirping filled the backyard, and as soon as Tara walked inside, he walked out from the shadows.

Sam said nothing as Billy slowly approached her and sat beside her. “Well, looks like you’re on your own, kid. You always have been, though,” Billy remarked.

“What do you want?” Sam defeatedly asked as she looked up at her father. “I want you to suck it up and stop being a little bitch!” Billy exclaimed, clearly angry with his daughter for letting you go.

A small, dry chuckle left Sam’s lips as she exited the table. “Hey, where are you going?” Billy asked as he also got up and followed Sam to the door. “Inside,” Sam replied before she opened the door and closed it on him.

“You know you can’t outrun me, right?” Billy asked as he magically appeared in the living room, right next to Tara. Sam tried her best to hold her tongue as she watched Billy stare at her younger sister.

“Hey, I’m going to go home. Are you fine with staying here, or do you want to come with me?” Sam asked Tara as she ignored her father.

“I’m fine with staying here, but are you sure you want to be alone?” Tara asked, utterly oblivious to the fake man staring at her.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’ll text you when I get home, though, okay?” Sam said as she walked through Billy and gave Tara a quick hug. “Okay, just be safe,” Tara replied once she pulled away from Sam’s embrace.

Sam said her goodbyes to the rest of the group as she left the house and drove home, with Billy sitting in the passenger seat. He talked the entire way to her apartment, and when Sam turned up the radio to tune him out, he only spoke louder.

When Sam got home, she quickly got inside her apartment and locked the door before going to her room. She took a hot shower while listening to her father’s rant from outside the shower.

He was currently going on about God knows what, but it was driving Sam insane. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get him to stop talking.

Sam finished her shower and dressed as her father’s voice still filled her head, but she finally had enough when he said, “You know, you honestly suck at being a gay person.”

“Whatever,” Sam dryly replied as she left her bathroom and climbed onto her bed, with Billy in the corner of the room sitting in a chair. “I’m not saying that to be mean, but you honestly do. You should be fighting for your woman, not letting some bitch named Ashley fuck her instead.”

At the mention of you being intimate with someone else, Sam couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed her phone and got off her bed.

No drug could ever work as good as you did; she had tried them all, and nothing worked, nothing except you. She needed you more than anything right now, and she had pushed you away because she was scared to feel something that was real. So, she did the only thing she could think about: she called you.

She didn’t care if you screamed at her for breaking your heart; all she needed was your voice to help keep Billy away. She could handle you hating her because that meant you still thought of her. She could not take you being indifferent about her, not being on your mind at all, while you ran laps around her brain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m glad you agreed to go on this date with me,” Ashley informed as you walked into the restaurant together. She was wearing a tight green cocktail dress that showed a decent amount of her cleavage, and you respected her attempt to pull your eye.

“I’m thankful for the invite,” you replied with an honest smile as you held the door open for her. You were glad to be going to dinner with someone new, even if the restaurant was too fancy for your taste.

The restaurant was lined with fancy and expensive wines, and marble statues stood in the room's corners as you followed a waiter to your seat.

The table was already set up for two with a small candle in the middle, and you bit back a laugh at the shitty attempt to make this a romantic dinner.

You sat across from Ashley as she took her napkin and placed it on her lap, and you copied her actions.

“Hello, you two lovely ladies. My name is Cole, and I will be your waiter for the night,” a primarily built man stated as he approached your table, “What can I get you ladies to drink?”

“I’ll have water, please,” you quietly said, and Ashley repeated your words. When Cole walked off to grab your beverages, Ashley spoke with you.

Honestly, you felt terrible for not paying attention, but you seriously didn’t want to hear her talk about her rich daddy and the summer home she was staying at this weekend. You were halfway paying attention when you saw a woman in the corner of your eye.

You didn’t see her face; you only saw her jet-black hair and how she carried herself, screamed Sam.

“Sam?” You quietly muttered as your eyes followed the woman, praying she was here to save you. But when the woman turned around, she wasn’t your Sam.

“Sam? Who’s Sam?” Ashley asked as she studied your face. She picked up on how you wished this mysterious woman was here, and she hated the idea of another woman being on your mind.

You turned your attention back to your ‘date.’ “Oh, she’s no one, just someone I used to know,” you said with a fake smile.

Ashley just nodded her hair as she twirled her hair around her finger. “Okay, thank god. For a second, I thought you were talking about that Sam Loomis chick,” Ashley replied with a laugh.

“Carpenter,” you stated through a clenched jaw as your hand balled into a fist.

“What?” Ashley asked, pretending to play stupid. The smile on her face aggravated you for some unknown reason, and all you wanted to do was punch her for insulting your soulmate.

“Her name is Sam Carpenter, not Loomis,” you replied in the same stern voice.

“Well, whatever her name is, she’s that psycho bitch that killed a bunch of her friends and even her sister! Can you believe that?” Ashley asked with far too much excitement in her voice.

“No, I can’t. Because she didn’t do that, and her sister is still alive,” you replied with slight irritation. Your anger increased the longer you stayed with Ashley, and you desperately needed to get away from the girl.

Ashley scoffed at your words, “Oh, yeah? How do you know that then? Are you secretly in on the murders, too?”

“No, I just think it’s wrong to judge someone based on some bullshit rumors on Reddit.”

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” Ashley randomly stated as hate overtook her once peaceful eyes, “You’re so fucking pathetic that you can’t believe the facts and evidence that prove that Sam Carpenter is a murderer!”

A dry laugh left your lips as you shook your head back and forth. You had a mischievous smile as you clenched and unclenched your hands, trying your best to keep cool.

You were getting ready to defend Sam’s name when your phone went off, and your heart filled with joy as you read the name.

Never in a million years did you expect Sam to call you, but now, as her name flashed across your screen right before you were getting ready to go jail for assault and battery, you excused yourself as you walked out for the restaurant and answered your phone.

“Sam?” You whispered into the phone, praying you could finally return to your home. You listened to Sam’s shaky breathing on the other end, and you knew you needed to get to her as soon as possible. “Y/N,” Sam replied tremblingly, and you could sense her teary eyes, “I miss my home.”

Your lip quivered at Sam’s broken voice, and a tear fell down your cheek as you said weakly, “I’m leaving now.”

“Please hurry. I need you,” Sam whispered into the phone, trying her best to fight back her tears and Billy’s voice. He had gotten so loud that she couldn’t even hear herself think, and it was becoming too much.

“I will, my love,” you replied as you hung up the phone and returned to your table.

“I’m so sorry, but an emergency has come up, and I need to leave,” you quickly said as you frantically grabbed your keys and wallet. “Here’s a twenty to cover my food; I am sorry about this,” you said as you practically ran out of the restaurant and toward your car, giving Ashley zero time to take in the situation.

You unlocked your car, turned it on, and peeled off towards Sam’s house, and you couldn’t help but laugh when you heard the angelic voice of Lana Del Rey fill the car.

I got my mind on you

Say yes to heaven

Say yes to me

Say yes to heaven

Say yes to me

I’ve got my eye on you

I’ve got my eye on you

The ironic lyrics caused you to start laughing as you thought back to the beginning of your relationship with Sam.

Ever since you first met the woman, you had your mind on her all hours of the day, even before you got romantically involved with her. You felt like you would wait a lifetime for Sam to say yes to you, and it seemed your eye never left her.

When you parked your car outside Sam’s apartment, you ran as fast as you could up the stairs and knocked rapidly on the door. You didn’t even have time to catch your breath before Sam flung the door open and grabbed your neck, pulling your lips to hers. You kissed her back, and you finally felt yourself returning to your home, to your Sam.

And for the first time in weeks, Sam finally felt her father’s voice disappear as she returned home.

“You came,” Sam breathlessly mumbled against your lips. “You called,” you replied while pulling back to look at your woman. You noticed her bloodshot eyes and dried tear stains on her cheeks and felt your heartbreak. This wasn’t the cold-hearted Sam Carpenter the media portrayed; this was the real Sam Carpenter, scared to be vulnerable and loved but needed to be loved by you. This was the Sam who yearned for your heart with every fiber of her being and who would die for you. She was your soulmate, your home, and if you were lucky enough, maybe even your wife one day.

“What happened, Sam?” You quickly asked while rubbing Sam’s cheek with your thumb. The older woman shook her head as her lip quivered, and a tear fell. You wiped it away and placed a quick kiss where it had ended. “I don’t want to talk about it,” Sam admitted with an embarrassed tone, “I just need you here with me.”

“Okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” you replied lovingly, and Sam felt nothing but guilt for pushing you away.

Sam grabbed your hand and pulled you into her apartment, shut and locked the door before pulling you into her room. Sam shut the door as she looked through her closet and pulled out some of your clothes.

“I’ve been looking for this,” you quietly said as you reached into Sam’s closet and ran your fingers over your favorite hoodie. A slight frown pulled at Sam’s lips, “Oh. You can have that back,” she muttered as she handed you one of your shirts and a pair of shorts to change into.

“Sam, I don’t want it back. I want you to keep it; I was just stressing over where I put it last,” you replied with a smile as you studied Sam. You noticed how she had her hands hidden again, and the stress lines were more transparent; you knew Billy was bothering her again. You stripped in front of Sam, and for some unknown reason, she turned her head and gave you some privacy.

“What? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” you joked with a playful smile as you finished changing into comfier clothes, and Sam huffed at your words.

You gave Sam a quick kiss before you walked off into the kitchen with the woman right on your heels. You put some water in a kettle and set it on the stove to boil as you searched for some cocoa mix while Sam studied your actions.

Whenever she saw Billy, you would always make her some hot cocoa and turn on a movie you knew she loved, just to add some extra comfort. The feeling that Sam felt in her chest as she watched you grab the mix and make her a cup once the water was done boiling was something she couldn’t describe. She felt her chest flutter, and her heart beat increased when she saw that smile you reserved for only her.

“What?” You asked with that same smile, and Sam couldn’t keep it to herself anymore; she had to tell you, or it would continue to eat at her.

“I love you.”

You felt your heart explode at Sam’s confession, and you tried your best to keep your emotions in line as she continued talking.

“I love you so much, Y/N. I always have; I’ve just been too scared to admit it. I love you so much that the only way I thought I could love you was by pushing you away, but that destroyed both of us. Whenever I look at you, all I see is my future, and I want to have that with you: a future. But only if you want me, only if you accept me,” Sam admitted with tears in her eyes, hoping you understood what she meant by future: a wife.

Your bottom lip quivered as you approached Sam and gently cupped her cheeks before pulling her into the softest, most loving kiss you two had ever shared, and Sam knew you understood her double meaning.

“I want you to be my future,” you stated against Sam’s lips as your thumb traced her cheekbone before kissing her lips once before, “But finish up your cocoa.” Sam chuckled before kissing your lips to comfort her, before pulling away and picking up her mug.

You talked with Sam about how your lives had been since the split, and you found it ironic that both of your lives had turned downhill. You would occasionally throw tiny marshmallows at Sam and would scold you before putting some in her drink, but she cherished seeing the playful side of you.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Sam randomly cut you off as you were talking about your schoolwork. You looked at the woman, whose eyes refused to meet yours as she stared at her mug.

You walked over to Sam and gently placed your left hand on her back, and she turned to face you. You cupped her cheek with your right hand and pulled her into a loving kiss, and she sighed against your lips before kissing you back.

“I would love to be your girlfriend,” you said once the kiss had ended, and you ignored the way Sam took in a deep breath as if she was surprised you said yes.

“Okay. Good,” Sam replied while pulling away for you, and her heart melted when she saw the giant smile on your lips before a puzzled look appeared on your face.

“What’s this?” You playfully asked as you reached up toward Sam’s face and quickly pulled out a hair.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sam exclaimed while you held the hair close to her eyes and scoffed at you; it was a single grey hair.

“I call that one ‘Tara,’” Sam remarked as she took it out of your hand and threw it in the trash can, “I appreciate the hot cocoa, but can we please go to bed?”

“Of course,” you replied, smiling as you followed Sam into her room and shut the door. Sam threw back the covers on her bed and climbed in, opening her arms for you to join her.

With a giant smile, you got in bed next to Sam and cuddled up to her chest, and you both finally felt at home when Sam wrapped her arms around you and placed a loving kiss on your head. Telling you that she wasn’t going anywhere.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tara let out a small groan as she twisted and turned in bed before fumbling for her phone and checking the time: 3:33 a.m. She groaned as she rose from the bed, and her tiny bare feet patted against the flooring as she walked into the kitchen. Tara grabbed a bottle of water before approaching Sam’s door, but she stopped her hand from knocking.

The girl heard muffled voices inside, and she heard Sam talking to someone, “You know you don’t have to leave, right?” The stranger sighed at Sam’s words as they approached the closed door, “I know, but I'm already in the dog house with Gale, and if I’m not back in her apartment in the morning, she’ll have my head.” Somehow, Tara recognized that voice, and she knew that she should know who it was, but she couldn’t put a name to the face.

When Tara heard a hand land on the door, she flew into the living room and hid beside the couch as the door opened.

Sam and the stranger walked to the door together, and a giant smile grew on Tara’s face when she saw that it was you. With a small sigh, Sam smiled at you, “Okay, just please text me back when you get home, okay?”

“I always do,” you joked with a giant grin as you leaned in and kissed Sam, and you felt your heart explode when she kissed you back. “I love you,” Sam admitted against your lips before you opened the door and turned to face her.

“I love you too, Sam. More than you will ever know,” you replied as you placed a final quick kiss on Sam’s lips before leaving.

Sam closed and locked the door and jumped when she saw Tara standing before her with a creepy grin and straight stance. “Jesus Christ, you’re creepy as fuck,” Sam stated as she walked to her room with Tara on her heels.

“What was that?” Tara asked while making a sour face when she walked into Sam’s room and breathed in the air that reeked of sex, “Air out your room, oh my god.”

The older sister scoffed at Tara’s words as she removed the sheets from her bed and threw them into a laundry basket. “I was hanging out with Y/N. Why?” Sam asked while putting on fresh sheets and properly making her bed. “‘Hanging out,’ my ass! You two were fucking!” Tara exclaimed.

“Yes, we were. And don’t act surprised; you were the one who told me to go after her,” Sam replied as she walked into her bathroom and brushed her teeth, getting ready for bed. It’s been almost a month since you officially started dating, and you both couldn’t be happier.

“I know that, but I thought you two would have a bit more decency than this,” Tara scuffed.

Sam spat out the toothpaste and rinsed her mouth before returning to her bedroom. “Don’t judge me for what I do with my girlfriend, Tara,” Sam replied while getting into bed and plugging up her phone.

“How long have you two been dating?” Tara asked, almost hurt that Sam didn’t tell her. “It will be a month next Wednesday,” Sam replied while staring at her sister, “Do you need anything, or are you just here to make fun of me?”

“Well, I was here to ask if I could sleep in here with you tonight, but I’m going back to my room. Because it doesn’t smell like sex!” Tara exclaimed as she left Sam’s room and shut the door.

Sam chuckled at her sister’s reaction before she received a text message.

Y/N <3: Just got home, and I already miss you

Sammy 😼: You’ll see me in the morning time, Y/N. And I miss you too. Goodnight, my love.

Y/N <3: Goodnight, Sammy. I love you

Sammy 😼: I love you too.

Sam smiled as she texted you back and put her phone on her nightstand before lying down for the night. No words could describe her love for you, and she couldn’t wait to start her future with you.

You couldn’t help it when your heart grew ten times as you reread the text message. Sam loved you, and you loved her, and you went to bed with one thought on your mind: She finally said yes to heaven.

[snowysosturn]

Speeding Car - Matt Sturniolo Part 11

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

Pairing : y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary : After six years with your boyfriend Alex, you start to mentally check out. At a UCLA party, Alex reconnects with his childhood friend Emily, who proposes a double date with her boyfriend Matt. Your attraction to Matt grows as he pays you the first real attention you've had in years, sparking a complicated emotional journey.

Warnings : MDNI, tension, arguments, mention of physical fight, toxic boyfriend

Matt’s POV

The drive back to my place was suffocating. I could feel the weight of unspoken words bringing me down. Emily was yapping away next to me, about all the sights she wanted to see in Barcelona. Alex sat in the back, his face stern as he stared out the window, lost in thought.

Every now and then, I caught him shifting in his seat, hoping it was unease from regret, but he didn’t say anything about it. I could tell he was still pissed off, probably still replaying the argument with Y/n in his head. I couldn’t stop thinking about it either. Her voice, filled with pain, it had left me feeling some sense of guilt. I knew he was like this, but I still didn’t reach out to her at all over the last 4 weeks.

As we pulled into the garage, I noticed the lights were still on inside. Nick and Chris were probably still awake, maybe waiting up for us. I wasn’t sure how this night was going to end, but the air felt heavy with unspoken words. I couldn’t wait to get out of the car and break the tension, tension that only I was feeling.

We walked into the house, and Nick was the first to greet us. He barely glanced at me before muttering a quick “Hey” and disappearing upstairs to his room. I knew he was still pissed about our argument earlier, and I couldn’t blame him. I hadn’t handled it well. Nick was protective, and when he believed something was wrong, he was like a dog with a bone. I could feel the rift between us.

Chris, on the other hand, was his usual laid back self. He came over, giving Alex a quick nod. “Hey man, you can crash in my room tonight” he said, sounding genuine. “I’ll stay in with Nick.”

“Thanks” Alex mumbled, managing a half hearted smile.

“No problem” Chris gave me a look before heading down the hall to grab his things. I wasn’t sure if he knew what was going on, but his presence was comforting in its own way.

Once Chris was gone, the three of us settled in the living room. We ordered takeout and picked a random movie on Netflix to watch, though I doubt any of us were really paying attention. Emily was curled up next to me, her head resting on my shoulder, but I couldn’t focus on the warmth of her touch. My mind kept drifting back to the argument I had overheard, the way her voice had cracked when she told him how much she had done for him.

Hours passed, and eventually, Emily yawned, stretching her arms above her head. “Think I’m gonna head to bed, we’re up early.” she said softly, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.

“Alright” I replied, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll be in in a bit.”

She nodded, giving Alex a sleepy smile before disappearing down the hallway to my room. As soon as she was out of sight, I turned to Alex, trying to gauge his mood.

“I’ll show you Chris’ room.” I said, standing up. I wanted to talk to him but not here, not with Emily so close by. I needed answers, and I needed to understand what was going on with him and Y/n. The way she sounded earlier, it was like she was at her breaking point.

Alex followed me down the stairs to Chris’ room, his footsteps heavy. The room was a little messy, with clothes scattered here and there, but being honest, Alex didn’t deserve anything more. I closed the door behind us, taking a moment to compose myself before turning to face him.

“So how’s Y/n?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended. The question hung between us, emotionally charged with everything I wasn’t saying.

Alex snorted, shaking his head dismissively. “She’s.. whatever, man. She’s just being dramatic at the minute. I mean, I get it, she’s pissed off because I’m not spending every waking moment with her, but come on. It’s not like I’m out partying all the time or anything.”

Yeah because you can’t.

“Is she not looking after you in every sense the last few weeks? Do you not think she deserves to be appreciated?” I bit back.

Alex scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Oh, here we go. You’re blowing this way out of proportion. Y/n likes to take care of things, she’s always been like that. It’s not like I asked her to do all that."

His words angered me, and I could feel my fists clenching at my sides. The way he talked about her, like she was just some annoyance, made my blood boil.

“You seriously think that just because you didn’t ask, it means you can take her for granted? She’s doing it because she cares about you Alex, and you’re treating her like she’s disposable. You can’t just brush her off like she’s nothing.”

Alex rolled his eyes, clearly not getting it. “Dude, it’s not like that. She just doesn’t get what it’s like, being on the team, having this pressure. It’s not like she’s doing anything important, she doesn’t even go to college. She’s got all this free time, so yeah, she can help me out.”

Yeah she doesn’t even go to college but is still doing your shitty work for you.

“She’s doing it because she cares about you. The least you could do is show a little appreciation. Instead, you’re acting like she’s a burden.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “You’re being dramatic. Y/n’s fine. She’s not going anywhere. She knows I’m busy. It’s not like she expects me to drop everything for her.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. She’s not going anywhere. I now know he acts like this because he thinks she’ll never leave. If i could have my way right now, this would be Alex’s second physical fight since I’ve known him. I was so lost in my anger, that no words came out.

“She’s not some fragile little thing.” Alex shot back, a defensive edge to his voice. “She knows how it is. I’ve got my own shit to deal with. I can’t do everything she wants at the drop of a hat.”

“You’re missing the point.” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s about being there for her. About showing her that she matters to you. Right now, you’re not doing that.”

Alex narrowed his eyes at me, clearly irritated. “And why do you care so much about what happens between me and Y/n? It’s none of your business, she’s my girlfriend not yours.”

Fuck why do I care so much? Why am I defending her like this to him, we haven’t even spoken in 4 weeks. How do I cover this?

“I care because she’s Emily’s friend.” I lied, hoping it would cover up the intensity of my emotions. Fuck was that the best excuse I could come up with?

“And if Emily knew how you’ve been treating Y/n, she wouldn’t be happy about it. You know that.”

Alex snorted, shaking his head. “Emily’s friend, huh? Is that all this is?”

“Yeah, that’s all it is.” I replied, my jaw tight. I had to tread carefully here. “Emily would be upset if she knew you were blowing Y/n off like this. I care about Emily. You care about Emily. Let’s not upset Emily. Oh my god I’m digging a hole right now.. Say something else dumbass.

“I’m just trying to make sure things don’t get worse between you two, you know, keep the friendship group alive.”

Just stop fucking speaking.

Alex’s smirk faded, but he still didn’t look like he was taking any of this seriously. “Look, I’ll talk to Y/n, alright? I’ll smooth things over. She’ll get over it. She always does.”

“Just.. think about what I said, alright?” I muttered, taking a step back. “Before you fuck things up beyond repair.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the tension between us hitting off every wall in the room. I could see the clogs turning in Alex’s head, but instead of admitting he was wrong, he just scoffed again and turned away.

“Whatever, man. I’m tired. Let’s just drop it.”

I wanted to keep going, to make him see how much he was hurting Y/n, but I knew it would be pointless. Alex wasn’t ready to hear it, and pushing him further would only make things worse.

“Fine..” I muttered, stepping back. “Get some sleep.”

As I turned to leave, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of frustration and guilt. I knew Y/n deserved better, but I was powerless to do anything about it. The door creaked slightly as I opened it, and the sound seemed to echo in the quiet room.

Before I could leave, Alex called after me, his voice low and almost reluctant. “Matt.. I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But Y/n and I, we’ll work it out. We always do.”

I paused in the doorway, my back to him. Part of me wanted to believe him, to trust that they could fix whatever was broken between them. But another part of me, the part that had seen Y/n’s tear streaked face, couldn’t shake the feeling that things were already too far gone.

“Just don’t take her for granted” I said finally, not turning around. “She deserves better than that.”

With that, I left the room, the weight of our conversation heavy on my shoulders. Maybe I shouldn’t of said anything, this might get me in trouble. As I climbed back up the stairs, trying to shake off the conversation, I heard quick footsteps echoing down the hallway. Nick was running down the stairs from his room, clearly in a rush.

“Where are you going?” I asked, stopping in my tracks as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

Nick glanced at me, slightly out of breath. “I’m heading over to Y/n’s place. I’m gonna crash there tonight.”

I felt a hit of something..jealousy? worry?..stab at my chest. “Wait, what? Why?”

Nick shrugged, but there was something more behind his casual demeanor. “Just thought I’d check in on her, you know? With everything going on… I figured she could use some company. And honestly, I don’t really feel like staying here tonight.”

His words were like a dig, a reminder of the tension that had been hanging over all of us since earlier. “You don’t think it’s a little... weird? Just showing up at her place?” As if it’s not something I haven’t done before.

Nick gave me a dirty look, one that made my stomach twist uncomfortably. “Weird? Why would it be weird? She’s a friend, Matt. And I think she could use one right now. And besides, we’ve been texting, she knows I’m coming over, she ordered the Uber.”

He wasn’t wrong. After what I’d just heard from Alex, it was clear Y/n needed someone. I just didn’t know how I felt about that someone being Nick. How bad I desperately wanted it to be me.

“You think she’s okay?” I asked, my voice quieter now, remembering Emily is in the next room.

Nick’s expression softened, now bringing his voice to a whisper. “Honestly? I don’t know. She’s been dealing with a lot, and I don’t think Alex is really helping. I just wanna be there for her. Maybe cheer her up, get her mind off things.”

I leaned against the wall, trying to sort through the mess of emotions in my head. “What do you think’s going on with her and Alex?” As if I didn’t already know everything.

Nick hesitated, his gaze shifting slightly. “It’s not really my place to say. But from what I’ve seen, it’s not good. He’s been treating her like she’s some kind of accessory, like she’s just there to make his life easier.”

“Yeah..” I muttered, thinking back to the argument I’d just had with Alex. “He’s a total asshole.”

Nick nodded, his face serious. “Exactly. And that’s why I’m going over there. Someone needs to remind her she’s worth more than that.”

I couldn’t help but feel a sting of guilt. Here I was, tangled up in my own feelings, while Nick was stepping up to be the friend Y/n needed. “You really care about her, huh?”

Nick looked at me, his eyes sincere. “Of course I do. She’s cool, she’s fun to be around, and she’s dealing with all this shit right now. Someone’s gotta be there for her, and I’m not gonna let her go through it alone.”

There was something in the way he said it that made me pause. I realized then that Nick wasn’t just doing this out of obligation or pity, he genuinely cared about Y/n, maybe more than I’d given him credit for.

He started to walk away, but I called out after him, “Nick, wait.”

He turned back, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

I hesitated, then sighed. “Just.. take care of her, okay? I know she doesn’t show it, but she’s probably hurting more than shes letting on.”

Nick’s expression softened, and he nodded. “I will. Don’t worry.”

With that, he turned and headed for the door, leaving me standing there, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling inside me. I watched as he left, feeling a strange mix of relief and unease.

I walked into my room, Emily fast asleep in the middle of my bed. I tapped her ever so slightly so she would turn over onto her side, so I could get in beside her. The events of tonight replayed over in my head. It was all becoming too much.

Maybe Alex and Emily leaving the country for the next few days is a good thing..

a/n : everyone is still fightinggggg, atleast Emily and Alex are disappearing (kinda) for a bit in the next chapter..

edit: rereading this back as a chapter idk if im the happiest with it but it’ll all make sense as we go along

taglist : @muwapsturniolo @anitahunt @sturnfannn @jayde510 @chrissfavhoe @babyalliah-777 @v33angel @urmom69lol @willowrites @ribread03 @2muchofaslvt @sturnsaver @sleepysturniolo @jcsturniolo11 @jessie-essie @hoeforchrizz @mynbbys @sturniolopanini @mattsturnxoxo @delicatechrry @t77te @sturnsyaper69 @hotdismylife @maggot3647 @ivysturnss @noplaceissafeanymore @mattssgf @yourfavsturniologirl @maethem0nth @sillyponygrl @mattyblover07 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @dominicfikeenthusiast @mattsfavbigtitties

[starlightvld]

Bait & Switch, pt. 11 - The Epilogue

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 // Epilogue (End!)

Based on "I wasn't in that tunnel."

Call of Duty, soapghost // Hurt/Comfort, MWIII spoilers - Coming soon to AO3 as well!

---

It's been two months since Makarov. Two months of questioning bordering on interrogation, intensive therapy, mountains of paperwork, and near-crippling setbacks. The British military has placed Soap on medical leave while the doctors decide if he's solid enough to serve again, and he's also been required to remain on base as they assess the threat of Makarov's remaining network. His status among the living has been classified, of course, which means he can't contact his family, but at least it's not a hardship to stay close to his friends and the man he loves. And despite the fact that he's tried to kill Ghost on three separate occasions after waking from vivid nightmares, despite the fact that he still occasionally hears whispers telling him to blow up the base and everyone in it, Price, Gaz, and especially Ghost refuse to leave his side.

Soap tries to believe he's worth it.

At least he knows for sure now that he is Soap.

A couple of weeks after returning to Credenhill, Laswell's lab rats came back with results from the journal that, while still incomplete, were divergent enough to confirm a non-matching sample to John MacTavish's DNA. He didn't realize it was weighing on him so heavily until the burden was lifted. Further confirmation came in the form of a raid on Makarov's Siberian base — records of facial reconstruction surgeries on multiple subjects, including Soap's stand in, proved it wasn't the serum alone that changed people's appearance.

But Soap doesn't care about any of that right now.

Because he's currently sitting in a car in front of his parents' house, palms sweating as he stares at the bright red front door. His da always repainted it a different bright color in the spring to brighten up the rainy season. A thousand childhood memories flit through his mind, and he has to take a deep breath to calm his racing heart.

He doesn't technically have approval to reveal himself to his family, but as Ghost said when Soap first brought it up: who's gonna rat him out? Laswell? Not likely. And Soap's family has suffered long enough.

He has suffered long enough.

And when Price cut through the red tape to approve several weeks of leave to "take care of business" with a wink and smile, Soap couldn't get to Scotland fast enough.

"Ready?" Ghost murmurs, hand coming to rest on Soap's thigh.

His body is attempting to shake his bones out of his skin, but the warm, comforting weight steadies him. He grits his teeth, slips on one of Ghost's plain black balaclavas, and nods. 

They step out of the car, and the familiar sound of pea gravel crunching under his boots throws him back to his childhood, his chest twinging at the sepia-toned memories of slipping bike tires and skinned knees. Soap keeps his gaze locked on Ghost's back, too afraid of getting lost in the memories to let his attention wander. They're both wearing civilian clothes, though Ghost is wearing a SAS cap as an identifier along with a black medical mask covering the lower half of his face.

The door opens before Ghost can knock. Soap's chest caves in at the sight of his father filling the doorway. He takes after his da the most — broad, dark-haired and blue-eyed — and Soap scans over every new line and every extra gray hair since he'd last seen him.

He looks older. Worn.

"Mr. MacTavish, you might not remember me, but I'm Lieutenant Simon Riley. I have some news for you. May we come in?"

"Aye. I remember ye. But I cannae understand what yer doin' here. There's no one left for ye tae take away from me now, is there?"

The bitterness in his father's tone is a pill that threatens to choke Soap. He doesn't realize he's stepped forward until Ghost's arm comes up to wrap around his shoulders.

"No one to take away, no. But I did bring someone back."

At the pointed emphasis, his father blinks, and for the first time, he glances at Soap. His eyes widen as blue meets blue.

"It would be best if we come inside, Mr. MacTavish," Ghost says in a gentle tone.

"Aye," his da whispers as he opens the door wide.

They file inside, and Soap can't take it anymore. As soon as the door clicks shut, he rips off the mask.

"'Allo, Da. Surprise?"

He doesn't have a chance to say anything more as his da barrels into him, nearly knocking him over. Tears stream down his face and soak into Soap's shirt, and Soap realizes he's crying too as his Da whispers "my lad, my lad, my wee laddie is home" over and over in his ear.

---

Ghost warned Soap from the beginning not to try to be his old self. And as one of the few people with experience in coming back from the dead, he trusts the advice.

It doesn't make it any easier to follow it, though.

It takes the whole first visit before anyone in the MacTavish household can speak or look at him without bursting into tears. His two sisters Meg and Claire and his brother Paul arrive as soon as possible with spouses and kids in tow. He goes from one embrace to another and then back until even his touch-starved body can't take much more.

The devastated glances at his many scars are even more difficult to handle.

Ghost is a life-saver, gently-but-adamantly telling them all that Soap needs to rest but they'll be back in the morning. His mam wants him to stay at the house, of course, but he just... can't. She seems to understand, even if he can feel her disappointment following him out the door.

"You're doing good, Johnny," Ghost praises in a soft tone as they drive back to their rented place. "It's not easy to set boundaries. But they'll learn. And you'll heal. Eventually, things will equalize."

"Thank ye," he says, sounding tired even to himself.

The words aren't enough — will never be enough compared to everything Ghost has done for him over the past few months. But he'll be damned if he doesn't at least make sure Ghost knows he's grateful.

The soft look he gets in return and the gentle mouth and hands that worship him later that night reassure him that Ghost does, in fact, know.

---

The July wind is downright balmy for the Highlands, only coaxing a hint of red into the apples of Ghost's bare cheeks as they walk hand-in-hand down the path toward their rented cabin. They're about a mile from the nearest village — close enough to walk but far enough to feel cozy and isolated on the cabin property. 

Soap looks over and smiles at his lover. The smile widens to a grin at the way Ghost smiles back, his cheeks taking on an extra flush.

They've been in Scotland for two weeks, and visiting his family has gotten easier with each passing day. They look at his scars less and at him more. And he's acclimatizing to all the touching and affection they need to give to make sure he's really there and alive.

His da hasn't taken kindly to their insistence that they can't talk about what happened. Soap can only promise him that it was the fault of the enemy and not the Task Force.

His mam hasn't taken kindly to the fact that he won't confirm if he and Ghost are an "item" as she calls it, but neither he nor Ghost are ready for that level of MacTavish exuberance. For now, their story is that Ghost has been assigned to watch over Soap due to his trauma recovery.

Which is going... Well... it's going.

They're taking a walk in the first place because Soap stormed out of a video call with his mandated therapist. Ghost followed him with their jackets and his gentle, undemanding presence. After a couple of miles, Soap's anger, mostly at himself, burned out, and he let Ghost slip a hand into his and pull him close.

How could he not smile at that?

"Been thinkin'," Ghost says in that calm, almost monotone voice of his.

It always sets Soap at ease, so it takes him a moment to prompt, "Aye? Does it hurt?"

"Cheeky fucker. Listen up."

"I'm listening."

"Was talkin' to your da—"

"Tha's dangerous."

"You gonna let me talk?"

Soap presses his lips together to hold back a laugh—God, it feels so good to want to laugh again—and nods. "Sorry. Just feeling a bit off kilter."

Ghost squeezes his hand. Soap squeezes back.

"He said he's got a bit of land a few miles north he's been meaning to sell. I've been earnin' money for years with nowt to spend it on. I thought if you wanted, we could buy it and maybe build a place of our own."

Soap jolted to a stop. Their linked hands strained for a moment before Ghost walked back to him.

"The MacTavish farm?" Soap asks in a breathless tone.

"Mmmhmm," Ghost confirms. "Your da says the old house is gone, but the foundation is still sound."

Soap remembers long days on the farm with his granda, almost thirty years ago now, with the nostalgic fondness of childhood. He would play with the animals and "help" his granda around the farm as a wean.

The idea of living there now...

"Are ye sure? It's a bit secluded."

"Even better," Ghost says with a small smile.

"When would we have time to build a whole house, though? S'not like we'll get leave like this again any time soon."

Ghost puts an arm around his shoulders and pulls him close. Soap comes willingly, always grateful for the warm and solid presence of the man he loves. Their lips meet in a gentle kiss, the glide slow and lazy, as if they have all the time in the world. As if—

Soap pulls back suddenly and searches Ghost's bare face. His expression is just as relaxed as the kiss, that small smile still gracing the corners of his lips. 

"Ye want tae leave the military?"

"About to hit my years of service for a full retirement. And..." Ghost's smile drops away as he lifts their clasped hands to press a kiss against Soap's knuckles. His voice is soft and serious as he admits, "I don't wanna risk losin' you again. Don't think I'd survive it, Johnny."

Soap swallows and lets himself sink into the admission. The whole of his career, all he's ever wanted is to use his skills and knowledge to make the world a safer place. Instead, he lost three years of his life and inflicted immeasurable harm while in the hands of the enemy. Even if the psychologists and the brass clear him to go back to work, he's not sure he'll ever trust himself in the field again. With the precision required for their jobs, that's practically a death sentence.

Besides, his family would be glad to have him home for good. And he knows they'll come to love Ghost, too. His mam is halfway there already with all of Ghost's subdued politeness.

The more he thinks about it, the more the idea of getting out — of getting a fresh start — appeals to him, though he supposes that's not really a surprise in the end. After all, the most important thing he ever found in the military would be coming with him to Scotland.

"I wanna be wherever ye are, Simon Riley."

Ghost's smile returns. Their next kiss explodes with joy, and Soap leans into it, letting himself be swept away by the swipe of Ghost's tongue and the hard press of his lips. When they finally pull back, Soap is ready to run back to the cabin, eager to take Ghost apart and be taken apart in return. Ghost holds him back, though, his gaze once more serious.

"I want you to be sure about this. No regrets."

"I think it's a grand idea," Soap says before kissing him again. "Where ye lead, I'll follow, aye Lt?"

Ghost hums as he finally lets go of Soap's shoulders and gently tugs at their clasped hands. "How about we walk together, side by side?"

A slow smile spreads across Soap's face as visions of a quiet life dance in his head — a life without fear of capture or torture and without the risk of losing each other at any moment.

"Aye," he murmurs. "I can do tha'."

He kisses Ghost one last time before letting him pull them back toward the cabin.

There's still a lot of work to do before they can take that final step forward, but until then, he'll cherish the idea of a house all their own where they can live out their days in peace. After years of hell, it's good to know a bit of heaven awaits him. And maybe when they finally have a house of their own, Soap will indulge in those matching rings he's been dreaming about. 

Because it wouldn't be heaven without Ghost by his side.

---

FIN

[writers-requiem]

Title: Back Home in Your Arms

Genere: Marvel, Superheroes, Comfort

Pairing: Beast x superhero!Reader

Warnings: Blood, descriptions of graphic injury, depictions of anxiety attacks, emotional breakdown

Rating: E10+ for Everyone 10 and up.

It was a quiet day. Or at least, that's what he told himself.

You had been away for days on end for a business trip to Chicago, and you both expected your return to be in just a week.

But then a week turned into two, then three plus some days. All the while his anxiety began to grow higher and higher.

To summarize what happened with Hank during the extra time you were gone, let's get descriptive.

Day 1: You both had assumed that your flight was simply delayed so didn't think much of it. So you went about doing your usual things to pass the time until the day concluded.

Day 2: He felt a little on edge, but not too terribly worried. Still, he sent you a text to make sure you were alright. After a few hours of no reply, his anxiety began to grow, but it was still manageable.

Days 3-4: He tried to call you over and over during his downtime, to which he got no response of any sort other than silence.

Days 5-7: His condition was visibly getting worse. He ate less and slept barely any at all. And even if he did sleep, he'd have frequent nightmares about what may have happened to you. Were you cheating on him? Was someone taking advantage of you? Did someone kidnap you? All these questions in his head made him uneasy.

Days 8-10: It's really getting bad, his figure has slimmed down at an alarming rate, the bags under his eyes are heavier than ever, and he can barely even do his usual tasks without his arms shaking or losing his grip. Not to mention his vision is getting worse, not even glasses help him.

Days 11-14: Now Hank is at his most vulnerable. He's holed up in his room, wracked with worry. His sanity is beginning to slip from fear, his heart rate is through the roof, eyes reddened from the seemingly endless hours of either silent or open crying. The others were already worried about him, but now their concerns are at an all-time high. Even before then, they had tried to trace your location to see where you were and what was going on so he could calm down a little, but nothing turned up.

Day 15: Half a month later and still no news. His room is trashed, his mood now only ranges from sad, to frightened. It's not a pretty sight.

A day later and there's a knock on the door.

Logan answers it and sees a slightly familiar face.

Logan: "He's not looking too good. You should see for yourself."

He led you to his room which had a name tag that read "Hank McCoy" in gold lettering.

Logan left you alone and you entered the room, noticing the state of disarray it was in, and the crumpled blue furry man on the ground, crunched up in the fetal position.

You: "Hank?"

You placed a hand on his head, causing him to jolt up and look at you.

It takes a couple minutes of him looking you over, feeling your skin and even sniffing your hair and the crook of your neck, but eventually, he realizes that it's you.

He's quick to embrace you, forgetting his own strength in spite of his condition. Still, you didn't mind. You were just happy to see him again. But his face was still wracked with worry. Your clothes were torn, and your body was covered in scratches, bruises, a black eye, deep cuts and lots of blood.

Hank: "Where have you been? What happened? Are you okay? Who hurt you? When did you-"

During his torrent of questions, you soothed his soul with a gentle kiss on the lips.

He closed his eyes and held you a bit more gently than previously. Then he pulled you in for another hug and showed no signs of letting you go.

You: "Long story short, supervillains interrupted the trip which made us late for our flights home, so I needed to hitch a few rides back here."

You took a look at the room around you and remarked how uncharacteristically messy it was.

You: "But it looks like you've been through a hell of your own."

Hank: "All that matters is that we're here. Home in our arms."

Afterwards the two of you took a shower to clean each other off after the past few days of chaos, then you slept together on the couch, the best sleep either of you have had in days. And come the next day, you spent it cleaning up his room and making sure he took care of himself. Meaning making sure he had plenty to eat and drink, getting in some exercise, and taking plenty of breaks. And in record time, he was back to his usual self.

You: "Now remember, if this happens again Hank, don't worry about me. I may not have powers, but I won't go down that easy."

Hank: "I know. Sorry love."

You two shared a kiss and just sat together in his lab, you snuggled up against him while he got back to work on his projects.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

MMFA Staff:

On February 18, President Donald Trump pushed multiple false claims about the war in Ukraine and President Volodymyr Zelensky’s involvement in it, falsely suggesting that Ukraine started the war and that Zelensky is a “dictator without elections.” Both claims echo Russian propaganda about the war. Many right-wing media figures praised Trump's comments, with some commentators even following in his footsteps to target Zelensky. Others denounced Trump's remarks as “music to the ears of Vladimir Putin.”

In the last week, Donald Trump has pushed falsehoods about Ukraine, to the delight of leading Russian political figures

During February 18 remarks at Mar-a-Lago, Trump falsely accused Ukraine of starting the war with Russia, drawing praise from Russian officials. “You never should have started it,” he told reporters, addressing Ukraine’s leaders, before claiming Ukraine “could have made a deal.” Trump was dismissing concerns from Ukrainian authorities — including Ukraine’s president Volodymyr Zelensky — that they had been excluded from peace talks in Saudi Arabia. Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov praised Trump’s comments about Ukraine and NATO, remarking in a speech to Russian lawmakers, “This is already a signal that he understands our position.” [New York Times, 2/19/25; The Guardian; 2/18/25; NBC; 2/18/25]  

Russia started the war by launching a full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022 after annexing Crimea in 2014. The invasion was widely condemned by world leaders and Russian President Vladimir Putin was later accused of war crimes in Ukraine by the International Criminal Court, which issued a warrant for his arrest. [New York Times, 2/19/25]  

Trump later called Zelensky a “dictator without elections” in a Truth Social post doubling down on his false statements, echoing Kremlin propaganda. “Zelenskyy better move fast or he is not going to have a Country left,” Trump threatened in a post that repeatedly attacked the Ukrainian leader. Russian President Vladimir Putin has alleged that Zelensky’s presidency is “illegitimate” due to the suspended election, and Trump appears to be repeating Moscow’s narrative. [Twitter/X, 2/19/25; BBC, 2/19/25]

Zelensky was elected to a five year term in 2019, and Ukraine’s 2024 election was suspended due to martial law triggered by Russia’s 2022 invasion. Zelensky has promised that an election will be held once the war ends, as holding an election in an active war zone would be difficult, if not impossible according to some experts. [BBC, 2/19/25]

Trump has also demanded $500 billion of Ukrainian rare earth minerals in exchange for U.S. support in the war. During a Fox News interview, Trump claimed that Ukraine “essentially agreed to do that.” When presented with a proposal for the U.S. to own half of Ukraine’s rare minerals during a meeting in Kyiv, Zelensky declined to sign the document. [Politico, 2/11/25; NBC, 2/14/25]

Russian political figure Dmitry Medvedev: “If you'd told me just three months ago that these were the words of the US president, I would have laughed out loud. @realDonaldTrump is 200 percent right.” [Twitter/X, 2/19/25]

Right-wing media split over Trump pushing pro-Kremlin propaganda.

[communicationthroughlyrics]

I Work Too Hard, Can You Fuckin' Pay Me?

Part 11 - Y/N moved to escape some of thier looming troubles from Westview, to the place that their best friend said would make a difference. New job, new digs, will Y/N make a change for the better, or leave another city with their tail between their legs?

TW: Angst, Intersex reader, reader has some... not so great coping habits, sexual tension, smut

Word Count: 2.6K

Read Pt. 1 HERE Read Pt. 2 HERE Read Pt. 3 HERE Read Pt. 4 HERE Read Pt. 5 HERE Read Pt. 6 HERE Read Pt. 7 HERE Read Pt. 8 HERE Read Pt. 9 HERE Read Pt. 10 HERE

I'm Afraid I May Never Learn From All My Mistakes

The workweek flew by you in a flurry of due dates for upcoming projects and deadlines for your current builds. Despite the chaos, you found yourself eagerly counting down the hours to the weekend. Thoughts of Wanda's smile, her touch, and the way she looked at you filled the quiet moments of your day. Each time you thought of her, you felt your heart flutter—a feeling that was both exhilarating and terrifying. You hadn't seen the redhead since your weekend together, a thought which brought you sadness.

Thursday evening, you were in the last meeting of the week, and you received a text from Wanda: "Miss me?" Attached was a photo of her lying in bed, the sheets tangled around her body, leaving little to the imagination. You slammed the phone down onto the conference table and cleared your throat, hoping no one had noticed your lapse in professionalism. "Sorry, just...something came up," you muttered, trying to focus on the blueprints in front of you as everyone's attention was on you.

Your cheeks were tinted a rosy pink at the thought of the older woman alone in her bed like that. The meeting dragged on, and your thoughts were far from work. You couldn't wait to get out of this conference room, and back to your cubicle to text her back. And you were damn glad you had your blueprints to carry.

Finally, your meeting ended, and you rushed to your desk, throwing the rolled prints down before slouching down into your chair and texting Wanda back with a simple "More than you know," along with a winky face. She replied with a smirking emoji, and your heart skipped a beat. Loosening your tie, you looked around at your surroundings before snapping a picture that showed the 'problem' you had been hiding since the picture she sent you. You sent it to her with the caption "Better watch what you send me, young lady. You won't be able to handle the punishment."

Three grey dots quickly appeared, then disappeared, and reemerged as she was contemplating her response. "Last time I checked, I'm older than you, Y/N."

Smirking, you shook your head. "Maybe so, but who were you calling 'daddy' while I broke your bed?"

Wanda's response was swift, "Y/N, don't start that..." Before you could begin your response, another photo came across, showing more of her sinful body, bottom lip fully trapped in those pearly whites that had you enraptured.

"Wanda, behave, baby. I can't do anything while I'm still at work." You shot back a response, trying to sound stern, but the smirk on your face betrayed you. You watched your phone, waiting for her to respond, the anticipation making you feel giddy like a teenager.

"But you can imagine," she texted back with a mischievous wink. You groaned, sliding your phone off to the side so you could unfurl the blueprint you needed, beginning to tweak it how you were asked to in the meeting. You heard a few vibrations coming from your left, trying to ignore the anticipation in your gut, knowing that it was likely Wanda.

You managed to keep your focus on work for all of half an hour, but the buzzing of your phone was a persistent reminder of the distraction waiting for you. When you couldn't take it anymore, you looked down to find several more texts from her, each more flirty and provocative than the last. "You're going to be the death of me," you muttered to yourself, your cock twitching in your pants. Scrolling through the descriptions of what she wants to do to you, you came across the last message. It was a video, and your heart nearly stopped when you clicked it. You quickly paused it, realizing that there was more than anyone's share of obsceneties in it, and rifled through your shoulder bag looking for your earbuds.

Once you had them in, you hit play, and watched as Wanda lay back on her bed, her fingers tracing along her glistening folds, her breathy moans coming across as she buries her fingers knuckle deep into her heat. Your eyes widened, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure.

You had to remind yourself that you were at work, and that your coworkers were just on the other side of the thin fabric walls. You shot back a text, "I'll give you what you're asking for this weekend," before sliding your phone across the desk, far away from you before turning on some music from your watch.

The end of your night could not come fast enough. Each moment at work was torture, knowing that Wanda was just a house away from yours, probably thinking of you as much as you thought of her. The anticipation was palpable, and it was all you could do to keep from walking out the office, and straight to her house.

Finally, you had made all of the changes you needed to, and your 'friend' had finally relaxed enough that you could walk out of the office without shuffling to hide. You began packing up your things, sliding your laptop and various other things into the pouches on your bag. The clock above the door ticked away the final seconds of your workday with a sadistic slowness. Each tick echoed in the quiet office like a gunshot, but you had made it. Just as you were throwing your coat on over your shoulders, a voice echoed from behind you. One you weren't anticipating hearing, not here.

"Y/N?" there was a familiar rasp to it, as you turned to face none other than Natasha. She leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "I was told I would probably find you here."

You felt your cheeks burn as you hastily shoved the last of your things into your bag, trying to hide your disappointment in her arrival. You just wanted to get home, slip next door and see the woman who has been occupying your thoughts all week. "Funny how that works, Nat. I work here."

Natasha's smile grew, "I know that," as she stepped closer. She looked you up and down, a knowing glint in her eye. "That's not how you should treat someone who gave you such a welcome to town, or did you forget?"

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt, "It's not like that Nat. Believe me, I have tried to forget, considering the circumstances. And had I known about your situation with my best friend and your boss, then it wouldn't have ever happened."

Natasha's expression softened, "I know it's complicated, but it's not your fault, Y/N." She took a step closer, "But, that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun together." She leaned in, whispering in your ear, "I know you enjoyed it."

You stepped back, shaking your head. "No. Absolutely not. I'm not doing that again, Natasha. Is that seriously all you came here for?" you hissed in her direction.

Her smirk grew, "What if I told you, that's not what I really came here for?"

Groaning, you gathered your things, trying to get out of the office. "What could you possibly be here for, Natasha?"

Her eyes glinted with a mischievous spark, "Well, I need your help with something."

"My help?" you echoed, raising an eyebrow. "What on earth could you possibly need my help with?" you let the irritation seep through your voice.

Natasha sauntered closer, her hips swaying in a way that was definitely not accidental. "It's about Pietro," she said, her tone dropping to a whisper. "I need to plan something special for him. For his birthday."

You stopped in your tracks, turning on your heel before walking right up to the redhead. "Let me get this right. You begin dating my best friend, your boss, then sleep with his best friend when she comes to town. He finds out, so you've been kissing his ass since. Now you have the fucking balls to walk into my office, flirt with me and insinuate sleeping with me again, just to turn around and ask for help with something for his birthday? Are you stupid?" you growled.

Her eyes narrowed, "Like you should be one to talk about crossing lines, Y/N."

The accusation stung, but you held your ground. "What the hell do you mean by that, Romanoff?"

Natasha's smirk grew wider, "Oh, come on. You've been spending an awful lot of time with Wanda, haven't you? Looks like she has more than helped you 'settle in'. How would Piet feel about that revelation?"

You clenched your jaw, anger boiling up inside you. "Don't bring him into this. Whatever's going on between Wanda and me is none of your business. And frankly, I don't care what you do for his birthday. Just don't involve me in your mess." You turned to leave, but Natasha grabbed your arm.

"I'm not trying to start trouble," she said, her voice taking on a serious tone. "But I am looking out for him."

"Jesus, Natasha, you don't think, do you?" You shook her hand off, the heat of your anger burning through your cheeks. "I've known Piet since high school. I'm not just going to toss his friendship away for some fling. And I'm certainly not going to entertain being with his sister without letting him know! He already knows about us, Romanoff! Wanda and I are just trying things out, trying to make it different than our past. And what we have, it's certainly not something to be used as leverage in some twisted game."

Natasha's smirk slipped, and for the first time, you saw a flash of genuine concern cross her features. "You're serious," she murmured. "I had no idea. I just..."

You shook your head, scoffing. "Yeah, Natasha. You had no fucking idea." You turned to walk away, halting when she spoke.

Her expression grew contrite. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause trouble. But I want to let you know something."

You turned to face her, your arms crossed. "What is it?"

Natasha took a step closer, her eyes serious. "Pietro's not okay," she said, her voice low and urgent. "He's...he's been acting strange lately. And I think it has to do with someone who is coming back to town."

You frowned, "Who?"

"Val. She's been gone now for..."

"6 years." you finished. You are certain your heart is now in your stomach, and all color has left your features.

Natasha nodded solemnly. "Exactly. How'd you know?"

You glanced at the redhead, shaking your head. You weren't going to tell her the truth, not this truth. "Best Friend. Remember?"

Natasha nodded, her eyes widening a fraction. "Right. I'm sorry, I forgot." You shook your head, standing in the middle of the glass entryway to your office building. "I'm gonna go now, have a good night, Y/N."

"Wait," you called out as she started to turn away. "What's going on with him? Is he okay?"

"Call him. Best friend, remember?" was all she said before she walked away.

You watched Natasha leave, her words echoing in your mind like a warning bell. The thought of Val returning to town made your stomach churn. The woman had been a tornado in your friendship with Pietro, leaving a path of destruction and heartache in her wake. You hadn't thought about her since you left Westview, and for good reason—the very mention of her name brought back memories you'd rather forget. But Natasha's concern for her boyfriend was clear, and you knew you had to at least check in on him.

Pulling out your phone, you called him, the line ringing with a sense of dread in your chest. After a few rings, he finally picked up, his voice sounding more tired than you'd ever heard it. "Hey, Y/N, what's up?"

"Piet," you started, your voice tight. "Natasha came by my office, she said you weren't doing so well. What's going on?" You heard a dry chuckle on the other line.

"Of course. No 'Hey man, I may be banging your sister but I wanted to talk to you', just straight to it." You could hear the sarcasm in his voice, but it was laced with a hint of actual pain. You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. "Look, Natasha came to me because she's worried, and now I am too. What's going on?"

There was a pause on the line, and for a moment you thought he might hang up. "Val's coming back," he said finally, his voice barely a whisper. "And I don't know what to do." Hearing the confirmation from him is like a dagger, sharp and cold, twisting in your gut. "And she is bringing Maria with her." You feel your insides twist, knowing this will never be good for anyone here.

"Maria? As in...Maria, Maria?" you asked, wanting to make sure you're thinking of the same person.

"Yeah," he sighed. "The one and only. She's apparently decided she wants to reconnect with certain people, and Val's using it as an excuse to come back and stir up shit."

You felt your jaw clench. "What kind of shit?"

"Well, Y/N, when I first saw her and spoke with her, she somehow knew you had moved here. Something about, 'so much misunderstanding in your relationship' or some shit like that."

Your heart stopped beating, and the realization that Val knew about your move and would probably talk to Wanda set in. You could feel the spiral slowly beginning to start, the fear of something happening with Wanda too much. "I... fuck, Piet. What about Wands? Fuck."

Pietro's sigh was heavy, "I don't know, man. I'm sorry. I should've called you sooner. I've been trying to figure out what to do, how to handle it."

You felt your stomach drop. "No, no, it's okay. I've got to tell Wanda. She deserves to know before Val says something to her."

Pietro's voice grew a little stronger, "I know it's a mess, but she's going to have to find out from us first. I can't have Val playing puppet master again. And, Y/N?"

You swallowed hard, "Yeah?"

"Thank you for...caring enough to try and warn her, to prepare her. But this is exactly why I told you to handle things before you moved here."

You felt a knot form in your stomach. "I know. I'm sorry, I should've been more upfront with Wanda from the start." You rubbed the back of your neck, the tension building. "But it's not like it's been easy. I didn't think that this...this would be what happened."

Pietro sighed again, "I know, I know. But that's the problem, Y/N. You didn't think. And when it comes to Val, and Maria, those two are always 7 steps ahead on the chessboard. Just...try to talk to my sister before Val gets a chance to. I don't trust that bitch."

You nodded, even though he couldn't see you. "I'll go right now. I'll talk to you later, Piet." You ended the call, slipping your phone into your pocket and taking a deep breath before walking out of the office. The night air was cool, a stark contrast to the hot mess of emotions you felt on the inside. You made your way towards your car, popping the trunk to throw your belongings inside. As you slammed the deck lid down, a voice came from behind you. 

"Well hello, Y/N. What a small world."

[gunsandspaceships]

MCU Timeline: Iron Man 2. Part 2

Part 1

2010

May 11, night - Stark Expo opening. Blood toxicity - 19%.

May 12, 9:00 am - 3:30 pm - Tony at the Senate Armed Services Committee hearings.

May 13, evening:

Tony is back home and has a video conference in 4 hours. Blood toxicity - 24%. 362 days of Expo left.

Tony (unofficially for now) appoints Pepper as CEO of SI.

May 14 - Tony officially transfers the management of the company to Pepper.

Note: confirmation of 2010 from S.H.I.E.L.D. dossier. The Avengers (deleted scene).

Between May 14 and May 23 - Tony hires Natasha as his new PA.

May 23 - Tony in Monaco. Vanko attacks him on the race track. Blood toxicity - 53%.

BAMF achievement: are you talking about Afghanistan, Tony?

May 24, 7:32 am PT - Tony and Pepper are on the Stark Jet flying home from Monaco. Three hours into the flight, Stern is interviewed by MSNBC.

May 25:

Hammer arranges Vanko's escape and brings him to his place. Ivan begins work on drones, his reactor 2.0 and a suit.

Night - Tony searches for information about Vanko after he was declared dead.

Another f*ck up in dates - the screens say 05.06.10. For that to be true, we'd have to move Tony's birthday and change the Expo countdown.

May 29 (Saturday):

Tony's birthday. Blood toxicity - 89%.

10 pm - party.

Rhodey steals Mark II and fights Tony, then flies away.

May 30:

Morning - after ~10 hours of doing something somewhere Rhodes finally brings Mark II to Edwards Air Force Base.

Tony eats donuts in a donut. Fury and Natasha give him a pep talk and lithium dioxide.

Hammer brings Ivan not his bird and notices that he makes drones, not suits.

USAF calls in Hammer to outfit stolen Mark II with his weapons.

Afternoon - Fury tells Tony that Howard was the founder of S.H.I.E.L.D. and gives him a chest of Howard's things.

Evening - Hammer gets his hands on Mark II and turns it into "War Machine".

Tony looks through his father's notes and receives his message recorded in 1973.

May 31:

Morning - Tony goes to apologize to Pepper and finds the "Key to the Future".

Afternoon - Tony (re)discovers a new element and orders components for a particle accelerator. Meanwhile, he drills more holes into his house, eventually turning it into a piece of Swiss cheese.

June 1:

343 days of Stark Expo left.

Morning - Tony builds his particle accelerator. Coulson is reassigned to New Mexico.

Note: As we've established in Thor's timeline, its events take place in November 2011. Not May/June 2010. I could do some logical gymnastics and stretch it to 2010 (which would already create a mess), but there's no way it could be in May/June.

Afternoon - Tony finishes the particle accelerator and synthesizes the new element at home.

Note: mention of 2010 again.

Evening - Vanko finishes his suit and the drones.

6:20 pm - Vanko calls Tony. Tony heads to New York in the new Mark VI.

40 minutes is most probably an exaggeration, since it is unlikely that Tony could get from Malibu to Flushing in less than 40 minutes. In any case, Tony didn't have time for anything else, especially considering that he needed time to assemble his new suit.

7-9 pm - Hammer and Vanko at the Stark Expo. Tony and Rhodey fight Vanko and defeat him. He blows himself and the Expo up. Tony saves Pepper and 8-year-old Peter Parker. Pepperony's first kiss.

Considering that other things tell us it's been 19 days since Pepper became CEO, Tony's "a week" line is an exaggeration. And Pepper plays along, just like she did with 12% in The Avengers.

I could write a whole post about why it could not be just a week (from Expo opening to the fight) as it's stated in other timelines, but I'll just give you one question to think about: how many days Ivan would need to build all those drones, a new reactor and a suit? Probably not 2.

A week later - Fury gives Tony Natasha's assessment of him and offers him a position as a consultant at S.H.I.E.L.D. Tony accepts.

Mid June - Senator Stern awards Tony and Rhodey with medals.

The Consultant

Second half of 2010:

The World Security Counsel still supports the Avengers Initiative at this point. But they want The Abomination on the team. Coulson and Sitwell send Tony to sabotage the transfer between General Ross and S.H.I.E.L.D. He succeeds, and Blonsky remains in prison.

After that, the WSC loses interest in the Avengers Initiative.

Thor (2011) Timeline

Captain America: The First Avenger (2011) Timeline

The Avengers (2012) Timeline