#until sarah speaks and the line turns on again.

[deantfwinchester]

Late Nights

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, back on my Joel x Teacher!Reader shit (though her work hardly plays a role in this), established relationship

Summary: Getting home late is an unfortunately common occurrence in Joel’s line of work. When you both have busy days, it can be hard to find time to share, but you make do.

Warnings: extreme fluff, just utterly fucking saccharine at this point, is fluff without plot a tag?

——————

It’s Wednesday night. Joel’s night to cook dinner.

You get home earlier every day, no question. But since you like to take most every night during the summer months, he insisted on a 60/40 split during the school year. Sundays, Mondays and Wednesdays are his. You had Tuesdays and Thursdays. Friday & Saturday are mainly for pizza, take out, or date-nights.

When he’d grill on Sunday afternoons, you liked to try and help him with prep, but he’d just pour you a glass of wine or mix you a drink and try to usher you out of the kitchen. You’d always sit and talk with him while he worked anyway. Sarah too, when she wasn’t working on homework or out with friends. It’s one of his favorite parts of the week.

On the nights he’d come home late, though, he always worried about leaving you to it. He was meant to be home cooking for the three of you while you relaxed, tried to let the stress of the school day roll off your back. He loved giving you that time.

This particular night, when six o’clock rolled around and he realized he still had a good hour or more on the site, he knew he needed to let you know he wouldn’t be timely with his return. Didn’t want you to worry.

You’re on the couch, grading. By this time of night, Joel’s normally taken the work from your hands and pulled your attention toward anything else. Noticing the room darkening, you wonder where he is, just as your phone dings:

Wednesday, October 7, 6:03 PM:

Sorry baby, gonna be later than I hoped tonight. Y’all don’t wait on me, okay?

Supposed to be my night too, dammit. I apologize, sweetheart.

You’d told him till you were blue in the face he didn’t need to apologize to you when he was the one having to work until long after dark. It never took.

You responded quickly, knowing his phone would be back in his pocket and forgotten again soon when his attention turned again to the work and his team.

Wednesday, October 7, 6:04 PM: (Outgoing)

Dont worry about it, sweetie. i promise i can handle dinner, just don’t work too hard and get home when you can ❤️

And take a break and drink some water, will ya? if that bottle ain’t empty yet, you haven’t had enough! see you soon, love.

He’d be dead on his feet when he walked through the door, that much you knew. And he’d have no business rifling around in the kitchen for something random he’d throw together, not substantial enough by far for a day of working like he’d been. You hopped up and started to the kitchen, determined to make a hearty meal for you and Sarah to share now, and to ensure Joel had a real meal when he finally made it home for the night.

————

A couple of hours had passed by the time Joel finally walked through the door. You’re back on the couch, this time reading a book while the lights from the tv danced softly in the dimly lit room, with a bare haze of sound playing at low volume.

It was nearly 8:30 when you heard the key turning in the door. Sarah had retired to her room for the night after dinner. She’d tried to help you clean the dishes, but you’d ushered her off to relax after spending most of the afternoon doing homework.

Joel trudges wearily through the door, shoulders slouched and eyes heavy-lidded when he thinks you can’t see him. The second he lays eyes on you, though, his posture straightens and his expression brightens, eyes opening a bit more as he lifts into a smile. Your expression mirrors his, and you sit up, closing your book and rising to meet him halfway. You practically speak over each other in greeting:

“Hi darlin’, how was your day?” he says.

“Hey honey, how’d it go today?” you ask.

You laugh a bit when you realize you’re asking the same question on top of each other, and he pulls you close, arms resting heavily around your waist. You drape yours around his neck as he leans down to kiss you. When you pull away to look at his face, you see past the tired smile he wears to the exhaustion etched in his face, settled in his drooping eyes.

You move one hand up, fiddling gently with the strands of hair at the back of his head. You smile and put light pressure on the base of his neck with your other hand, moving his head down to rest on your shoulder. He catches on instantly, and settles comfortably where you direct him. He nuzzles into the nape of your neck and you feel his eyes close against your collarbone, his warm fatigued breaths rhythmically grazing your chest.

You continue playing with his hair with one hand, while the other remains resting on the back of his neck. You turn your head to place a soft kiss to his temple and, after a moment of restful silence, quietly speak:

“You’re tired, huh? I missed you today.”

“Missed you too, baby,” he murmurs against your neck, tightening his grip around your waist, and snuggling closer.

“You gotta be hungry. Got a plate waitin’ for ya in the fridge. Want me to warm it up?” you ask him, moving your hand down his neck to rub gently against his back. He breathes deeply in contentment at your comforting touch.

“No, I’m never leaving this spot. I live here now,” he says, and you feel the rumble of his voice against your chest. You chuckle lightly and speed up your ministrations, applying a bit more pressure as you discover the tightness of the muscles in his back.

“Mhm. And when was the last time you ate? Or drank anything for that matter?” you ask knowingly.

“Uhhhh, i guess it was, arou-“ he cuts himself off with a yawn, “around lunch time? Maybe one? Did finish that bottle like you asked, though,” and he smacks his lips lazily, somehow nuzzling further into your shoulder.

“Good, thank you. But lunch was seven hours ago now, so you need to eat something. Wanna start there? Or shower first?” you ask, chuckling a bit.

He raises his head a bit and squints at you, frowning playfully. “You sayin’ I smell, darlin’?” he mumbles, laughing into your shoulder.

You giggle in response before elaborating: “I’m saying you’re sweaty and would feel better if you rinsed the day off before crawling into bed.”

He sighs and rasps into your neck, “you changed the sheets didn’t you?” you feel a smile form against your chest.

“Sure did. So it’s food, shower, and bedtime. You can pick the order. Which first? Want me to grab your dinner?” you ask.

He sighs deeper this time, “What’s that thing about objects in motion and objects at rest or somethin’? Gonna keep doing whatever they already got goin’ on?”

You rumble a little laugh in return before responding. “I see. C’mon Newton, let’s keep ya moving. Go hop in the shower while I get your dinner ready.” You say, patting his cheek as he raises his head with a little groan.

You catch his eyes with your own and let your hand rest on his cheek. You move a thumb beneath his chin and pull him to you, giving him one last peck before ushering him down the hall. You pull his plate from the fridge and get to work on reheating his meal.

——————

He emerges less than ten minutes later smelling fresh and dressed in a clean t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants, padding into the kitchen just as you’re filling a glass of water to place next to his warmed plate. He rubs a fist into one eye, yawning again, and plops into a chair at the kitchen table.

You approach behind him, placing the glass on the table with one hand and rubbing his shoulder with the other. He lifts a hand to grab yours and squeeze as he takes a sip. His eyes reach up to meet your own.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, sweetheart. It was my night anyway, and now you’ve cooked and even put the damn plate in front of me,” he huffs.

“You don’t need to thank me, love” you respond, leaning down to kiss him again before taking the seat next to him with the glass of wine you’d poured to sip while you sat with him. You reach for his left hand where it rests on the table, and gently squeeze. He wraps his fingers around yours before you can retreat. Your fingers remain intertwined for the duration of the meal.

The two of you discussed the highlights of your respective days - roses and thorns, both too sleepy to bother with buds. When Joel finishes, you grab his plate to wash, but he takes it from you.

“No way are you washing my dishes too, honey. You’ve done enough already tonight,” he tries to insist. You’re not having it.

“Will you just let me take care of you, dummy? You’re bone tired, I can see it in those beautiful brown eyes. Here. How about this?” you rinse the plate and utensils, shove them quickly in the dishwasher, close it emphatically, and raise your empty hands.

He rolls his eyes, but relents with an exasperated sigh. “Whatever you say, darlin’,” he responds smiling, a bit bashful from the care and compliment.

“Good. Now c’mon, bedtime.” you say, taking his hand in yours once again and leading him to the bedroom.

“Whatever you want, baby” he grins, raising his eyebrows suggestively. You can’t help bellow a hearty laugh at that one.

“Jesus, like you could keep your eyes open, Miller,” you respond, as you pull the covers back and lead him onto the bed next to you. You settle back against the headboard and open your arms up, beckoning him into your lap. He shuffles closer and leans into your embrace.

“It was-“ he pauses, only to finish through a yawn “- worth a shot.” You chuckle quietly as he rests his head in your lap, eyes instantly slipping closed.

You turn on the tv, keeping the volume low. It’s only a little after 9, so still early for you to fall asleep. You would read, but you’d rather turn off the light, hoping the dimness in the room helps him get some good rest.

You lay one hand on his back and the other in his hair, both softly rubbing in comforting circles, and you feel him melt further into you. A familiar warmth fills your chest at the sight of him there, resting peacefully in your lap. You lean down and press one last kiss to his head before whispering to him.

“Good night, sweetheart.”

“G’night, darlin’” he rumbles, muffled into your lap. You smile, one hand still on his back as the other reaches up, flicking off the lamp, before returning it to his hair. Your fingers gently massage his scalp, and within minutes, you hear his soft snores.

#call the fucking dentist bby #ur gonna get cavities fr #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo

[thetriumphantpanda]

you got all my love | joel & tommy miller

Summary | Well, it was always going to happen, wasn't it? No-one had banked on a connection that ran this deep though.

Warnings | No smut, only softness. A little angst. Talk of pregnancy. Alcohol consumption. Smut will return in full force in the final two parts.

Word Count | 1.7K

Authors Note | Okay, so here it is! Everything we've been working towards so far. There's no smut here, just some softness, but I promise there are two more parts and this little threesome is far from over! If you're enjoying this so far, then please consider leaving comments, reblogging or popping into my ask box with some love - I have really enjoyed interacting with you all over this! And, if you'd like to leave a tip (As always, no pressure what-so-ever) then you can do so here on Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You have to rub your eyes until they sting to make sure you’re not seeing things. Then you have to do another one just to be sure. Then, just in case, another one just for luck, but all three show the same thing. Two pink lines. Those two fucking pink lines you had been praying for all along, on every single test. You’re pregnant. You’re finally fucking pregnant. 

You gather all three tests in your hands once you’ve put the cap back on the bit you’ve peed on, before you bound down the stairs. It’s early in the morning and Tommy is stood at the coffee maker, waiting for enough liquid to filter to fill his mug. He turns around at the commotion of you almost falling into the table after forgetting to step on the final step. You’re breathless. 

“What on earth is the matter, sugar?” He asks, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

You hold up the three tests, but realise he can’t see anything with the grip you’ve got them held in. You take the strides to close the distance between you, setting them down on the counter next to the coffee machine. You watch, with a grin on your face as he picks one up, slamming it straight back down onto the counter when he sees the lines. 

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” He breathes, turning to you, “You’re?” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, and he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, “I’m pregnant.” 

His arms are crushing around you, but you can’t find it within yourself to care. It finally worked. You’d finally been given everything you’d ever wanted. You pull back enough to fuse your lips with Tommy’s, before you pull away and realise you’re both crying. 

“You’re gonna be a dad, Tommy.” You grin, pressing your lips all over his face, wherever you can reach. 

“And you’re gonna be a mama, baby.” He speaks softly, setting your feet back on the ground, “Don’t know how I’m supposed to go to work now, I wanna tell everyone.” 

You grin and cup his cheek, “I know baby, me too,” You look down at your feet before meeting his eye again, “There is someone we need to tell though.” 

Joel is as welcoming as ever when you turn up that evening. He’s shouting up the stairs for Sarah to come and say hello, which she does, giving you both a hug before apologizing, glaring at her father, and informing you both that it’s already past her bedtime and she needs to brush her teeth. 

“You want a drink?” Joel asks Tommy, who agrees to a glass of whiskey, “What about you, darlin’?” 

“No, thank you, I’ll be driving back.” You smile, feeling around in the back pocket of your jeans for the lone test you’d brought with you, keeping it a secret to yourself for now. 

Joel makes you a cup of tea and you sit around and chat for a while. Tommy filling him in on how things had been on site that morning, Joel talking about how he’d been to Sarah’s parent’s evening and how proud he was that she was doing so well. There was some off-hand comment that you frowned at, something about her inheriting the brains from her mother because they certainly hadn’t come from him, but it had been a nice conversation otherwise. 

When there is a lull in the conversation, Tommy reaches across the table to take hold of your hand, sitting forward in his chair, “We have something to tell you.” He smiles at Joel. 

You look to Tommy, reaching into your back pocket to fish the pregnancy test out before you slide it over the table to Joel. You watch as he picks it up, bringing it close enough to his face so he can see those two pink lines. Then he’s slamming it down on the table with a grin, all three of you standing in unison. 

It’s you he comes to first. He wraps those big, strong arms around your waist and pulls you into a hug. You wrap your own around his neck and giggle as he congratulates you, right into your ear. Then, he sets you down, a chaste kiss to your cheek, before he moves onto Tommy. 

It’s a scene that makes you want to cry. Tommy stretches out his hand as if he wanted Joel to shake it, but instead, he pulls Tommy into the biggest hug you’ve ever seen the brothers give each other. They’re slapping each other’s backs, pulling apart just enough to grin at each other, before they embraced again. 

When Joel finally does let Tommy go, Tommy comes straight to your side, pulling you into him as Joel leans against his kitchen counter. 

“Listen, I don’t want to make this a huge thing,” Tommy starts, rubbing the back of his neck with that nervous energy you remember he had when he first suggested this, “But thank you, for everything, for giving us everything, I know you and I know you don’t want anything as thanks, but just know how grateful we are for this brother.” 

He shakes his head with a little smile, “I told you, anythin’ for family.” And with a shrug, that’s pretty much it. Tommy gives him another hug before he’s turning to you. 

“I’ll let you two have a minute alone,” Tommy smiles, giving your hand a squeeze, fishing the car keys out of his pocket, “I’ll see you outside.” 

Joel is leaning against his kitchen counter with an expression you can’t place, so you take a few steps towards him, taking his big hand in your own before you place a kiss to the inside of his palm, trailing your lips in soft kisses up his arm until you reach the crook of his elbow where his flannel sits. Then, you pull that arm around your shoulder, wrapping your own arms around his waist in a hug. 

He's quick to return it, squeezing you into his body, as his other arm comes up to cradle your head to his chest, running along the back of your head as you breathe in his scent. He dips and presses his lips, ever-so-gently, to the crown of your head. 

“Thank you,” You whisper softly, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, “I know it’s not much, but I don’t know what else you say.” You admit. 

“Thank you is enough, pretty girl.” 

You squeeze your arms tighter around his waist, you can’t look at him, not yet, not with your eyes filled with tears. You’re not even sure why you’re crying. Sure, you’re happy, over-the-moon, but there’s a sense of loss that sits inside you. It had been fun, what you’d been doing. Thrilling even, and you were always bound to get a little caught up in the way he made you feel when it was happening. Tommy has, and always will be, your number one. You’ve loved him since the moment you met him. But somewhere along the line, his rugged, older brother has stolen a piece of your heart all for himself and you don’t even mind all that much. 

“I don’t want you to think we’re done with you,” You sniffle, trying to hold back the tears, “Just beause you’ve given us this, doesn’t mean we go back to normal; we can’t go back to normal.” 

“I know babygirl,” He sighs, “I’m just happy I was able to make you happy, give you what you wanted,” There’s another kiss to your head now, “Take your time, you’re gonna be a family now, I don’t wanna get in the way of that, but I wanna help okay? You need anythin’, you call me, alright?” 

You pull away and finally look at him, his own eyes glassy just like yours. He feels it too. It was only ever meant to be sex, only ever meant to be a means to an end, but neither of you expected the end to come so soon. Whether you, Joel or Tommy like it, you’re bonded to this man with his arms around your shoulders, and it’s scary. He loves his brother too much to do anything about the sinking feeling in his stomach, but God he wishes he could have you, just once more, just to tattoo what you felt like right onto his brain, onto his very soul, so he could remember you forever. 

“Uncle Joel, right?” A lone tear rolls down your cheek, which Joel brushes away with the pad of his thumb, keeping one hand cupped around your cheek. 

“Uncle Joel,” He nods, with a smile on his face, “And you best believe I’ll be the best damn Uncle ever.” 

Your eyes are still glassed over with tears when you push yourself up on your tiptoes and kiss him. It’s soft and it only last a few seconds before you pull away. Before you can fully move yourself away though, Joel’s hands are cupping your face, leaning down to kiss you properly. His mouth opens at the same time as yours, and when his tongue is in your mouth, you can taste the whiskey on him. You can feel in this kiss everything you think he wants you to. The fact that he loves you, like he’s said before, as part of his family. The fact that he’s happy he could give you everything you wanted. The fact that he’s sad that he’s managed to do just that, and those moments he’d waited for, had craved all month long were gone now. That it’s okay, too, that he must step back, let you and Tommy figure out how to be parents together. That he’ll always be here, as long as he possibly can be, just in case you need him. 

When you finally pull away from each other, a kiss placed by you on his jaw, you don’t say anything else. You don’t need too. Neither of you do. You just squeeze his hand and leave, joining Tommy in the car. 

He hands you the keys and in no time at all you’re making the short drive to your own home. To your new life. The one Joel had given you, handed to you on a platter. You don’t think you’d ever be able to express to him how truly grateful you are to him. When you pull the car into the driveway and cut the engine, Tommy reaches over to take your hand, squeezing it. 

“Okay?” He asks. 

“Yeah,” You smile, “I’m okay.” 

#Joel Miller #Joel Miller Smut #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller fanfiction #Joel Miller fluff #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #Tommy Miller #Tommy Miller smut #Tommy Miller fic #Tommy Miller fluff #Tommy Miller fanfic #Tommy Miller fanfiction #Tommy Miller x you #Tommy Miller x reader #Tommy Miller x female reader #Tommy Miller x f!reader #The last Of Us #the last of us hbo #Pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #the last of us smut #trial & error

[onceuponastory]

this lovely night - sam wilson x reader

“Is it out of line If I was to be bold and say, "Would you be mine?” - whistle for the choir by the fratellis 

Plot: After having no luck finding love the usual ways, Y/N decides to try her luck speed dating. At first, it seems her bad luck is continuing... until she meets Captain America himself, Sam Wilson. Pairing: Cap!Sam Wilson x Female!Reader (also the TINIEST hint of Sarah Wilson x Bucky) Warnings: Mentions of sexism/sexist comments, Sam being a little nervous about dating and a few alcohol mentions. No sexism from Sam though! He could never! Other than that, just sickly sweet fluff. Just how I like it! But as usual, if I miss any triggers please let me know! Notes: This was written for @late-to-the-party-81‘s Challenge Yourself Challenge, where you have to write for a character/trope etc that you haven’t written for before. This is my first time writing for Sam! Thank you again to @staticscreenwriting / @astartothemoon​ for my dividers! Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

“You know.” The man in front of Y/N begins, stopping only to take another big gulp of his beer. Y/N’s stomach twists. God knows what he’s about to say now. “I really think you’d make an excellent housewife.” He leans back, grinning at her. Y/N’s stomach churns, and she wraps her jacket closer around herself, hoping it shields her body from his gaze. “And a great mother to our kids. You’d stay home, of course, and I’ll provide for us all.”

And there it is. 

“I have a job. I’m keeping that.” she snaps back. Fucking sexist loser. Thankfully, before the man can say anything else… or before Y/N can throw her drink all over him, the announcer calls out that it’s time to change over, and Y/N gets out of there as quickly as humanly possible. As she collapses into another seat, she can’t ignore the disappointment settling in the pit of her stomach. Sure, he’s a sexist pig, but that marks yet another failure tonight.

After so long of scouring dating apps for someone, yet having no success, Y/N turned to speed dating. After all, even if it all crashes and burns, at least she tried it once, right? And so far, like every of her other attempts to find love, tonight has been just as unsuccessful as the others. That’s not to say most of the men she’s encountered tonight have been awful human beings like the man she just had the displeasure of meeting. But almost every girl, Y/N included, wants to find her Mr Right, and none of the men she’s met have gave her that spark, that feeling in your stomach that tells you this is the one for you. Honestly, she’s already resigned herself to the fact that she isn’t going to meet the love of her life. Or at least, they definitely aren’t here. 

Although, if this night is a complete failure, at least she can just get drunk and forget it all.

As the night goes on, Y/N’s prediction seems to becoming true. Well, back to the dating apps it is. Maybe the third time will be lucky?

“Hey, Y/N right? Nice to meet you.” Another male voice speaks. When Y/N looks back up and recognises who’s sitting opposite her, she gasps.

Captain America himself, Sam Wilson, is sitting opposite her. And somehow, he looks even hotter than he does on TV. In that moment, she loses all ability to speak, think… or even breathe. This is not where she expected this night to go, to have a literal Avenger sitting in front of her. She didn’t even notice him come in or move around the room. It’s like he just materialised out of nowhere, right when she needed it. He holds out his hand, and she shakes it. As her fingers brush against his, something twinges in her stomach.

“Are you alright?” He frowns, clearly confused and concerned by her silence. Heat settles on her cheeks then, and she chuckles awkwardly.

“No, I’m okay. I’m just more shocked that Captain America is here more than anything. Forgive me for being so forward, but I thought someone like you would have no issue finding love. I mean… look at you.” Her sudden honesty takes her off guard slightly, and for a moment she’s worried that she’s embarrassed herself even more. Yet, to her relief, he chuckles, smirking slightly. Or maybe the reason she’s so forward around Sam is because of how safe and comfortable she feels around him already. It’s like they’ve known each other for years, rather than only just meeting now. But Sam’s kindness and ability to make anyone feel at ease isn’t surprising. After all, there’s a reason why Steve Rogers' chose him to be his successor.

“Well, dating is tough for everyone. And to be honest, most people I date aren’t as cool with me being gone for such long periods of time, or the whole dating a public figure side of things. Seems like they just want a ‘normal’ life.” He admits. Although he still seems upbeat, Y/N registers the disappointment lacing his tone. And it breaks her heart. The Captain America identity is such a huge part of Sam and his life, and he deserves someone who respects that, and is proud to have him representing it, and to be dating him. She wouldn’t mind that life at all. She’d be proud to be at his side, to know that her boyfriend is a symbol of hope and heroism for so many, and someone who saves the world day in and day out.

He glances over at her again, grinning once more. “But I am glad that I came tonight.” And something deep in Y/N’s stomach flutters, like it never has before. Is this it? Is this the feeling that I’ve met the one? Looking over at Sam, Y/N smiles. If it is, she’s glad it’s come now. “And besides, you don’t need to worry about the formal stuff now. Please call me Sam.”

“When I’m back in Delacroix, I love to go fishing with Bucky, my sister, and my nephews. Spending all that time out on the open water, having an ice cold beer as the sun beats down on you….” 

“Stop!” she gasps, moaning happily. “That sounds incredible. I’d love that. Just a shame I’ve never been on a boat before.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that. I’ll take you. It could be one of our next dates.” He winks, and Y/N giggles. 

“Oh, next time huh? I’d love that.” She sighs dreamily. God, this is incredible. Sam really is the full package. He’s caring, charming, hilarious… and, of course, drop dead gorgeous. After all, she noticed the outline of his muscles through his shirt pretty soon into their date. Although, given that he’s a literal superhero, that’s unsurprising. Despite that, though, she and Sam are still having a good time, regardless of his celebrity status.

Thankfully, tonight wasn’t such a failure after all.

Yet, a voice soon interrupts, bursting her perfect bubble of happy thoughts. “Excuse me? We were supposed to change over almost five minutes ago, and you two are still talking.” And that brings her back down to earth. Honestly, she’s been having such a good time with Sam that she forgot all about the speed dating element of this. Everyone else just faded away.

“Oh, sorry, man. I’ll go.” As Sam stands up to leave, Y/N reaches out, placing her hand on his and stopping him without even thinking about it. 

“Wait!” she gasps. “I don’t want you to go.”

“You… don’t?” Sam frowns. Almost as if he’s so used to heartbreak and failure that he can’t believe she actually does want him to stay. But Y/N doesn’t even need to think about it. It’s never been as clear to her as it is now.

“No. I don’t. Or at least, if you go, I’m coming with you. Besides… you owe me a fishing date, right?” She just hopes Sam feels the same way about her, and isn't ready to say goodbye just yet. So when he smiles, Y/N breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Okay. Let’s get out of here.” He interlocks his fingers with hers then, running his thumb over her knuckles. 

“I’m paying.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m an Avenger, remember? I got this.” Before Y/N can argue or even say another word, Sam has shoved his cash into the hand of the teenage burger joint employee. “Keep the change man, alright?”

“Okay, next time I’m paying. Besides, I’m the one who recommended this place.” She orders when they’ve sat down with their food. Sam raises a brow, grinning.

“Next time, huh?”

“Hey, what did I say? You owe me a fishing trip, remember?” Yet she can’t ignore how heat settles on her cheeks once more, and how something in her stomach flutters with the way he gazes over at her. He looks at her like she’s the most important person in the world to him.

The restaurant isn’t too busy this time of night, meaning she and Sam are practically alone. Like they’re the only two people in the world right now. But honestly, Y/N doesn’t care if the restaurant is packed or empty. All she cares about now is being by Sam’s side. Like she said earlier, it feels like they’ve known each other for years now. They’re both just so comfortable and open around each other, nobody could’ve guessed they only met earlier tonight. Y/N just wishes this night could go on forever. 

If she could, she’d stay by his side forever.

After their meal, Sam insists on walking her home like the true gentlemanly superhero he is.

“Those burgers were incredible.” He sighs happily, holding his stomach. Y/N giggles.

“Told you so. It’s your turn to pick next time, alright Cap?”

“You know… I kinda love it when you call me Cap.” He admits, chuckling.

“I’ll be sure to do it all the time then… Cap.” She winks, which looks like it almost sends Sam’s heart into overdrive. It’s so strange, seeing such a charming literal superhero reduced to a grinning, love struck mess around her. But then again, she’s sure that she’s the same around him.

Sam walks her all the way home, keeping her hand still clasped in his. In fact, she doesn’t think he’s let go of her hand since they left the speed dating venue, keeping her safe and close to him the entire night. Not that she’s complaining, though. Honestly, she hopes he never lets her go.

Unfortunately for them both, soon their walk comes to an end, and they reach the outside of Y/N’s apartment building.

“Guess this is the end of the line.” Sam sighs. 

“Oh please, that’s such a Cap line.” Y/N rolls her eyes. Yet, she can’t help but laugh at his joke. “Seriously though, thank you for tonight, Sam. I had a lot of fun.” Immediately, the mood changes. It’s almost as if the happy moments from earlier tonight are gone as the pair remember that, at least for tonight, the good times are over. All Y/N can think of is one thing:

She doesn’t want this night, or her time with Sam, to ever end.

“You’re welcome. Thank you for taking a chance on me.” Y/N scoffs.

“I wasn’t taking a chance. I really connected with you, Sam, and I want to spend more time with you.” He starts grinning again, one of those huge smiles that takes over your entire face and with a warmth that feels like the sun itself. And it’s all for her.

“You know….” He trails off, chuckling. “I was going to ask if you really did want to go on another date with me, so I’m really glad you said that. Mostly, though, it’s because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen… and I think I’m falling in love with you, Y/N.” She gasps, and her heart begins to pound even faster. Sam comes closer, closing the gap between them both. So close they’re only inches apart now. “May I?” He whispers, tilting his head towards hers. Y/N nods, too speechless to say anything. Slowly, like they’re in a movie, Sam gently leans in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. When their lips connect, it sends a tingle down her spine and sends her heart into overdrive. Sam wraps his hands around her waist, whilst hers go onto his shoulders. He holds her there for what feels like hours, safe in his embrace. “Can I call you tomorrow?” He asks once they finally, yet reluctantly break apart.

“Of course. Like you even have to ask.” He leans in again, this time kissing her cheek.

“Goodnight Y/N.” He whispers, his breath hot against her cheek.

“Goodnight Sam.”

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#sam wilson #challenge yourself #jen's 1k challenge #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x female reader #sam wilson x fem!reader #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson fic #sam wilson oneshot #marvel oneshot #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction

[bumblesimagines]

Midnight Beach

Part 8

Request: Yes or No

Taglist: @nathan-no @hyubg @ash455

Can you tell I'm a John B anti yet?

~~~

"As Kelce is making this turn on the course, I go flying out of the cart. I'm tellin' you, man, I was in the air for a full minute. I promise you. And then, all I see-" (Y/N) slowly tuned out Topper's voice, swirling around the cola and ice in his cup with his straw. He stared at the droplets sliding down the glass, mimicking the way raindrops slid down the railing beside them. He felt undeniably numb. The past week had been nothing but a fever dream he desperately wanted to escape. His ex returned from the dead, his closest friend had been arrested for the murder of Sherriff Peterkin, and Topper Thornton had become his newest ally. But that was OBX. Always full of surprises.

 "Shit, wait... who's that talking to my grandpa?" (Y/N) blinked and looked up at Topper, shifting around in his seat to peer back at Judge Holden and the officer speaking to him with papers in hand. The chair scraped when Topper stood up from it and he walked over, beckoning (Y/N) with a flick of his wrist. (Y/N) took another sip of his drink and stood, following Topper over to the table where Judge Holden sat. Peeking over Topper's shoulder, he spotted what the papers were about.

An arrest warrant for Ward R. Cameron.

"What is this, Grandpa?" Topper asked but Judge Holden waved him off and took the phone the officer offered, speaking to whoever was on the other end. Judge Holden sighed heavily, ending the phone call and fishing out a pen from his pocket. In one swift movement, he signed off on the warrant and the officer dipped his head in thanks. (Y/N) turned and speedwalked back to their table, picking up his phone and dialing the phone Topper had given Sarah. He held it up to his ear and nibbled on his bottom lip, listening to it ring before she picked up.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Sarah, hey, I, uh... I'm with Topper and we just watched his grandpa sign off on a warrant for Ward's arrest. He's your dad and... I thought you would've wanted to know. They're going over to get him right now so if you want to say one last goodnight, now's your chance. I know if it were my dad... I'd want to see him one last time." (Y/N) spoke into the phone, hooking his finger around his car keys and taking out his wallet. He heard her let out a shaky breath whilst the Pogues whooped and hollered in the background, likely blissfully unaware of what the phone call was about.

"Thank you, (Y/N). T-This means a lot to me." The phone clicked and (Y/N) set some money down on the table, hurrying through the restaurant and practically bolting out the front doors. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard them open again and spotted Topper following him. (Y/N) unlocked his car and climbed inside, turning it on and waiting for Topper to settle in before reversing out and following the line of cop cars heading toward Figure Eight. 

"You called Sarah, right?"

"Yeah, I let her know. She's definitely going over there. And- shit, Wheezie's there too." (Y/N) cursed, continuing to follow the cars until they arrived at the Cameron Residence. Patrol cars, SUVS, and unmarked black cars scattered the street and driveway of the mansion, officers scattered around. Some hurried into the mansion but most of them watched the dock. Among the cars, (Y/N) noticed the familiar nearly broken down van John B drove around. He flung off his seatbelt and hopped out of the car, heading onto the property and toward the dock. In the distance, at the end of the dock, stood the large white yacht otherwise known as the Druthers. He saw a faint figure standing on the deck, arms waving wildly and a familiar voice calling out to Shoupe. Ward Cameron. (Y/N) cursed again and hurried down the dock, seeing Sarah and her friends amongst the officers standing on the dock pleading with Ward. 

Ward disappeared into the yacht and then, it felt as if all time stopped as the Druthers abruptly exploded into flames. Bits and pieces of the boat flew threw the air, littering the water and forcing the patrols on boats to halt. (Y/N)'s feet were heavy, keeping him planted on the dock. He brought a trembling hand to his gaped mouth, widened eyes searching the waters for any sign of the family patriarch. His eyes immediately flooded with ears and he staggered back, unable to find air as his chest constricted. Ward... Ward couldn't possibly be dead... No, (Y/N) had seen him standing on the deck just seconds prior. No, no, no-

Sarah's grief-stricken scream broke through the horrified silence and broke (Y/N) from his shock-induced trance. His head snapped in her direction, seeing her stumble forward, feet nearing the edge. Her arms desperately reached out toward the boat, sobs and wails escaping her as she called out for her father. (Y/N) wiped away the tears that had slipped down his cheeks and moved forward, pushing past officers until he reached the blonde. She crumbled to the ground the moment his hands made contact with her skin, forcing him to crouch down beside her and pull her into an embrace.

"Dad," Her body shook violently with each sob. "Dad, please... Dad, come back, please..."

"I'm so sorry." (Y/N) breathed into her ear and she wept harder, trembling arms wrapping around him. Her face buried into his chest, soaking his shirt in tears and snot. His hold tightened around her and he rubbed circles around her back, eyes trailing up to look at her boyfriend. John B stared at the wreck but unlike his shocked friends, he looked relieved. But no part of him moved to check on his sobbing girlfriend. His eyes refused to tear from the fire. (Y/N) pulled Sarah closer, scoffing in disbelief at the Pogue. His head craned to look at Topper, who stared at the wreck with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

"Topper!" (Y/N) called out to him, snapping the blonde out of his daze.  "Go check on Wheezie and Rose!" He pleaded and Topper nodded, nearly stumbling over his feet in his rush to get back to the mansion before the little girl could step outside and see what the chaos was all about. (Y/N) cleared his throat and sniffled, taking a moment to gather himself before he pulled himself and Sarah up onto their feet. Sarah clung to him, her wails quieting into whimpers. He pressed a hand to the back of her head, getting her head pressed against him in hopes she wouldn't look at the remains of the beloved yacht. 

"Come on, Sarah," Kiara whispered soothingly as she moved toward them, rubbing Sarah's back. "We need to head back."

"Wheezie needs you right now, Sarah. She needs her big sister." (Y/N) leaned back, cupping Sarah's face and brushing the hair out of her face. Sarah hiccuped softly and nodded, more tears slipping down her face and dripping off her chin. With Kiara's help, they got Sarah to walk down the dock, letting her lean against them and cry. (Y/N) led her to the back porch where Rose stood, her arms stretching out toward Sarah the moment she spotted her. Sarah collapsed in her stepmother's arms and together, the two wept. Kiara placed a hand on (Y/N)'s back and looked up at him with a worried frown.

"Are you okay?" She asked quietly.

"I'll be fine, Kie. Just... Sarah needs you. She needs all of you. She needs John B the most right now." (Y/N) told her softly, glancing at the Cameron women when they walked inside the house. He licked his lips and faced Kiara, lifting his brows. "Tell John B he needs to be by her side. She doesn't need a Pogue right now celebrating the death of her father, she needs her boyfriend to show some fuckin' empathy. Don't let her sink in her grief when all you preach about is family and friendship."

                    ✽        ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽

"Hey, you've reached Rachel (L/N). Leave a message and I'll get back to you soon."

"Ward Cameron's dead. He... He blew up his yacht while he was still on it. One minute he was alive and the next-" (Y/N) cut himself off before his voice could break and sighed heavily, rubbing the sleeve of his jacket across his tired eyes. "It all happened so fast. I-I thought he was just trying to have one last hurrah before they caught him or-or maybe he was aiming for a chase but got distracted by Sarah. Fuck- ...Sorry, I didn't mean to curse. I just... Sarah and her family aren't doing so hot. I can't imagine what it must be like for them. But, I... I called to let you know about Ward. You probably already know though. News travels fast... Bye, Rachel."

Blowing a raspberry, he hung up and eyed the saucepan on the stove, flicking off the heat and grabbing the handle. Carefully, he poured the hot chocolate into a mug and set it back once done, licking some off some droplets that got on his finger. The doorbell rang and he spared a glance at the clock, brows furrowing. Considering it was a school night, he deducted it couldn't be Topper or Kelce. His stomach sunk. Rafe had been released from custody after a confession from Ward had been found. (Y/N) pressed his lips together and walked, stepping out of the kitchen and taking slow steps toward the front door. Peeking through the peephole, his body slumped with relief when he spotted a different blonde standing on his porch. 

Pulling the door open, he smiled solemnly. "Hey, Sarah. You need somethin'?" He asked gently, taking note of the backpack she had. Sarah fiddled with the sleeves of her white and blue sweater, hand reaching up to tug the side of it back over her shoulder slightly. She pursed her lips and lifted her puffy eyes to look at him.

"Hi, (Y/N).. I-" She paused and sighed, eyes dropping onto the floor again. "I was wondering if I could stay here for a while. I-I... I can't be around Rafe, not right now, not after what he did. And I know it's a lot to ask after everything that happened between us so I totally get if you don't want-"

"I don't mind, Sarah. I'm not turning you away after everything you've been through." (Y/N) soothed, stepping aside. Sarah mustered a smile and stepped inside, slipping her backpack off her shoulders and holding it against her chest. She inhaled and then sniffed, blinking at the smell wafting from the kitchen.

"Is that-"

"Hot chocolate? Yeah, I just made it. Want some?" (Y/N) closed the door and motioned toward the kitchen, chuckling when Sarah eagerly nodded. They walked into the kitchen and Sarah took a seat at the island, setting her backpack on the barstool beside her. (Y/N) grabbed the can of whipped cream from the fridge and a bag of mini marshmallows from the pantry, a smile appearing on his face when Sarah perked up at the sight of them. He covered the top of the hot chocolate with the whipped cream and sprinkled some marshmallows on top, setting the cup in front of her before he got another cup for himself. 

"Thank you for this. For all of this. I know I don't deserve it after what I did to you. After what I did to us." She muttered, lifting the cup to her mouth and taking a sip. 

"You're acting as if you divorced me and then murdered my entire family, Sarah. Yes, you cheated on me with Routledge of all dudes, but we're in high school. This shit's bound to happen. Relationships start and end all the time until we find the one who makes us thankful we endured all that heartbreak and drama." (Y/N) said, setting the saucepan in the sink and turning around to face her with his cup in hand. He licked some of the whipped cream off and hummed quietly at the taste before sipping on the drink. "If John B feels like that guy for you-"

"We broke up." Sarah interrupted, gazing down at her cup with a distant glint in her warm eyes.

Good riddance. "Sorry to hear." 

"It was bound to happen. We were just... It was too complicated. His dad died because of mine and- and I couldn't get the look on his face out of my mind. He- He looked so pleased. I've spent all day today and yesterday crying and he never sent a message. He didn't call or anything. He waited for me to do something. Even Kelce called to check on me and my own boyfriend couldn't?" Sarah scoffed and shook her head but her eyes began glittering with fresh tears. "I did so much for him and he couldn't even be there for me."

"You know what might cheer you up?" (Y/N) smiled playfully, gaining Sarah's attention. She blinked away the tears and leaned forward curiously, strands of hair slipping over her shoulder and almost getting mixed with the whipped cream. 

"What is it?"

"The annual bonfire party tomorrow. Topper begged me to go all morning until I accepted and I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you tagged along. You'll be able to get your mind off everything that's happened this month. There'll be enough mai tais for you to drink and forget about things for the night. Just like old times." Sarah hummed, nails tapping against the island in thought. She met his eyes and her lips formed a small smile.

"Alright, I'll go. Sounds like it'll be fun." She responded and resumed drinking until she finished her cup. Sarah slid out of the stool and walked around the island toward the sink. Rolling up her sleeves, she began washing the saucepan. (Y/N) finished his drink and set it in the sink, waiting for Sarah to finish cleaning before leading her up the stairs and to the hardly used guest bedroom. He flicked the light on and looked back at her.

"I'll be getting up early tomorrow for school so don't panic if I'm not home when you wake up. I'll leave something for you to eat in the microwave and then once school's over, I'll come by to get dressed and we'll head to the party with Topper. Sound good?" (Y/N) folded his arms over his chest, watching Sarah set her backpack down on the bed. She nodded and tucked some hair behind her ear, looking over the room and getting herself acquainted. She plopped down on the bed and ran her hand over the covers, a bittersweet longing on her face.

"Thank you, (Y/N). I really appreciate this." 

"Anytime, Sarah. Let me know if you need anything." (Y/N) offered her one last smile and turned around, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him. He headed down the hall to his own room and collected his pajamas, walking into the bathroom. After taking a quick shower and brushing his teeth, he tossed the old clothes into the laundry basket and made a mental note about doing laundry later in the week. Turning off the light and plugging in his phone, he collapsed into bed and curled up under the covers. He stared up into the darkness and let his body sink into the mattress, waiting for sleep to creep up on him. And just as it began tugging at his eyelids, his bedroom door creaked open, forcing him to open his eyes. 

"(Y/N)?"

"Hm?" (Y/N) propped himself up onto his elbows and squinted through the dark, only being able to see the outline of her figure. Sarah nudged the door with her foot, closing it behind her and carefully walking through the room until her knee bumped against the edge of the bed. Silence fell over them and after a moment, (Y/N) pulled the covers up in a quiet invitation and Sarah accepted. With his eyes finally adjusting to the lack of light around them, he noticed she had changed out of her sweater and shorts, exchanging them for a shirt he was pretty sure used to be his and knee-length shorts. Her hair had been tied back into a low bun, and from the way her hair stuck up in random directions, she'd given sleeping alone a try before deciding to join him in his room.

"I'm sorry for everything-"

"Go to bed, Sarah." (Y/N) murmured, tugging the covers further up over his shoulders and pressing his cheek against the soft pillow. He was sure she'd continue apologizing until they parted ways. And while part of him enjoyed hearing her apologies, the guilt gnawed at him. She'd gone through enough, and he hadn't missed the scar just above her hip that looked far too much like a bullet wound. It made him queasy. She was only sixteen.

Sarah made a soft noise- a sign she wanted to apologize again for disturbing his sleep- and wiggled her way closer to him until the hair on her head tickled his chin. Her movements were slow and hesitant as if testing the waters for how much contact he'd allow before kicking her out of bed. He stayed still, eyes staring at the lamp on his nightstand, trying not to focus on the girl and the fact she was his cheating ex. Sarah slithered her arms around his waist and her eyes fluttered shut, face pressing into his chest. Her skin felt warm against his, and he guessed she felt similarly when she nuzzled against him further. But he couldn't decide if she was trying to wiggle her way back in to get some sort of revenge against John B or if she genuinely sought comfort. Maybe both. 

Her breathing eventually slowed and her body went limp against him, parted lips letting quiet snores out. Even while sleeping, she looked angelic. Everything about Sarah Cameron seemed perfect. From her soft golden locks and her almond-shaped eyes to her slim and tall figure. A perfect track record, a sweet and genuine personality, popularity, and easiness when it came to boys. Sarah could flash a smile and dazzle a crowd. But it'd been her personality that'd attracted (Y/N) to her in the first place. Her attentiveness, her playfulness, and her loyalty to her friends even in the face of drama. He'd been cautious when he allowed her in. Her reputation with relationships had been no secret to him. She dumped guys months or weeks after dating. He put the caution away and it left him with a broken heart. 

His eyes left the lamp and he leaned back slightly to peer down at her, only seeing her sleeping face. He pried her arms from around his waist, folding them across her waist and gently pushing her back slightly to leave some space between them. He'd given Sarah her chance and she'd chosen to ruin it. He loved her, he always would, but he knew it'd only do him good to keep her as a friend. To keep her at arm's length until she moved on to the next guy. Turning around, he put his back to her and got comfortable, letting his eyes close and sleep pass over him.

                    ✽        ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽

Pulling up at the party, he could hear the rumble of dirt bikes, excited shouting, and music blasting from speakers. The bonfire itself stood high and mighty in the center, flames towering up toward the sky and posing a rather obvious hazard to the intoxicated teens dancing and mingling around it. Topper immediately jumped out of the jeep and hollered to his boys, bumping chests and fists with them before downing the first beer given to him. (Y/N) snorted at the sight and got out, locking the car once Sarah hopped out. She gravitated toward his side, arms crossed and eyes flickering in every direction as if she were the new girl in town and didn't know anyone. 

"Come on, I'm sure someone brought something decent to drink tonight." (Y/N) smiled, hoping it'd at least cheer her up enough to socialize with her old friends. Sarah nodded in response to his words, arm reaching out and fingers wrapping around his bicep.

He tried not to think about how they looked walking toward one of the coolers. It was only a friendly gesture, a desire to be close to someone she knew well. One of the guys beside the cooler popped it open for them and they looked inside, shuffling around the cans on ice. (Y/N) grinned and pulled out a mai tai for her. The sight of it made Sarah giggle and she took one, wiping off the water on her shorts. The drink fizzed when she opened it and she clinked her can with his drink of choice before drinking. (Y/N) easily downed his drink, relishing in the soft burn in the back of his throat. 

"He's here." 

"What?" (Y/N) swallowed, wiping his lips with his sleeve and knitting his brows at her. He followed her gaze and searched the crowd of dancing teens until he spotted John B standing with someone. The girl with him rubbed his arm and leaned toward his face, and even at night, (Y/N) easily noticed the way John B's face flushed at whatever the girl was telling him. Sarah took his wrist into her hand and gently tugged him closer, hair swaying as she shook her head dismissively.

"It's whatever. He's single, I'm single. We can do whatever we want with whoever we want." Sarah crushed the can in her hand and tossed it aside, quickly bending down to grab another drink. Despite her words, she kept her eyes trained on the Pogue and the new girl. Her brows furrowed when the two leaned in toward each other, only relaxing when they leaned back. (Y/N) lightly squeezed his can of beer and finished it, tossing it into the nearby trashcan. He leaned in toward her ear.

"Tonight's about forgetting, Sarah. Let loose, have fun, go talk to your old friends." (Y/N) told her, one hand instinctively grabbing her hip when she stumbled slightly. Sarah pressed her hands flat against his chest and tilted her head up, a twinkle of mischief in her eye. Her lips formed a wide grin and her hands moved up, sliding around his shoulders.

"I am having fun! With you!" Her eyes flickered in the direction of John B. (Y/N)'s jaw clenched. 

"You can have fun with Topper, Sarah. He'd love to have a dance with you, I assure you. But I feel like hooking up with someone tonight, so, I'll leave you to it." Sarah blinked at his words and her ears turned red, mouth almost going agape. He tugged her arms off his neck and moved around her, heading down the slope toward where the others were. Her footsteps followed then stopped. He didn't need to look to know she'd gone off to see John B. He scanned the crowd for familiar faces, looking for anyone interested in chatting with him. He made eye contact with a dark-haired girl and she grinned at him but before he could approach, he heard Sarah's irritated voice piercing through the crowd.

"Did I ask you?" He groaned internally and turned around to look at her. She stood between John B and the girl with Topper stumbling around slightly behind her. The teenagers around them began turning around and backing up, glancing at each other and exchanging whispers. Topper began shouting in Sarah's defense, prompting the girl to get in his face whilst Sarah turned toward John B and shoved him back angrily.

Phones were quickly whipped out in hopes of catching a fight and a crowd formed around the four of them as the shouting grew louder. Kelce's voice mingled with the shouting and then, gasps echoed through the crowd and they quickly dispersed, allowing him to see Kelce staggering backward and holding his jaw. Topper rushed at John B, grasping the collar of his shirt and pushing him down on the ground. People began pushing and shoving, causing more fights to break out.

"It hasn't even been twenty minutes." (Y/N) muttered under his breath. He caught sight of Sarah being pushed off the small platform, landing on the ground with a thud and a groan. He walked toward her and caught her forearm, helping her up onto her feet. She hissed softly and turned her hand over, looking at the scrapes and pebbles on her skin. (Y/N) took his keys out from his pocket and put them on the palm of her hand before he climbed onto the platform and searched for Topper through the crowd. He found him pinned by JJ as Pope took swings at him and huffed, grabbing the sleeve of Pope's flannel and pulling him back. He only needed to give JJ a look for the blonde to shove Topper toward him and raise his hands in surrender. 

"(Y/N)-"

"Move your ass, Top." (Y/N) mimicked the way he'd seen Heyward grab Pope before and took Topper by the base of his neck, dragging him back toward the jeep. Topper stumbled and staggered, somehow already drunk enough to trip over himself yet somehow land a good punch.

"They started it!" Topper protested, pawing at (Y/N)'s arm in a desperate attempt to free himself from the older teen's iron grip. Sarah sat in the car, looking like a child who'd been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. She avoided their eyes and focused on the scrape on the side of her palm, lips pulled into a small pout. 

"Just get in the damn car, Topper."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #outer banks x you #outer banks x y/n #outer banks x male reader #outer banks x reader #outer banks #obx x y/n #obx x you #obx x male reader #obx x reader #sarah cameron x male reader #sarah cameron x you #sarah cameron x reader #sarah cameron x y/n #sarah cameron #topper thornton #john b routledge

[blueicequeen19]

My Best Friends Sister Pt. 7

Warnings: angst, unprotected outdoor sex

It’s late when John B finally sits down next to me by the fire. It was weird not having the buzzing energy around that house that comes with JJ and his chaos. It was impossible to be in a bad mood around him. I missed him.

I look over at my brother, my eyes taking in his brown ones along with the defeated look in them. I’m sure by now Sarah has talked him down but I still feel like I owe him an apology.

“I knew it was coming.” He finally says, my heart tightening in his chest. “You’ve been looking at each other too long for me not to notice it. It was only a matter of time.”

“I’m sorry you found out like this.” I murmur and he takes my hand between his two warm ones.

“I’d rather not see my best friend naked ever again.” John B gives a laugh that meets his eyes and I finally release the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

“Are you mad?”

“No, I’m just protective of you. I love JJ. He’s my brother but he’s a lot. He’s reckless and impulsive and hot headed and just a freakin mess. As your brother, no one will ever be good enough for you. Not even JJ. But as his friend, he couldn’t have done better by being with you. I know he loves you and I know JJ will put his life on the line for those he loves. You both deserve to be happy.”John B squeezes my hand just as my eyes blur with tears. I throw my arms around my brothers neck, hugging him tight until the need to sob passes. Then he pulls away, pats me on the head and disappears towards the house with the bag of chips Id been eating.

I pull out my phone and send JJ a text, letting him know I wanted to talk sometime tomorrow since it was pushing midnight. He reads the text but doesn’t reply. Then 15 minutes later his truck is pulling into the driveway. I almost laugh as he walks over like a man on a mission and yanks me out my chair and into his arms. His lips are on mine before I can speak and I find myself losing all train of thought. I fist his shirt, kissing him back just as hard and hungrily, his erection digging into my stomach. I cup him and he growls, yanking his mouth away to catch his breath.

“I’ll fuck you on the ground. Don’t play with me.” JJ warns, wrapping his arms tight around me.

“Apologize for setting yourself up to be caught by my brother.” I pant, turning my head as he goes in for another kiss.

“Apologize for being mad.” JJ counters, his lips finding my neck. I whimper as I feel heat all over my body.

“Apologize for making me go all day without you.” JJ adds, scooping me into his arms and pressing my back against the tree as his lips continue to mark me.

“Apologize for making me fucking crazy for you.”

“JJ, we can’t. They’re right inside. They could come out. Take me somewhere. Please.” My body trembles with excitement and adrenaline as his hand dives into my shorts and cups my pussy.

“Apologize.” JJ demands, pinching and rubbing my clit. I was putty in his hands.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you.” I can’t stop the words from leaving my mouth. Or my cries when two thick fingers slide inside me. JJ moves his free hand up to my throat, squeezing just the right amount that has me weak and submitting. My legs start to give out as my eyes roll back from the most intense orgasm of my life. It’s other worldly.

JJ releases me and I stumble against him, looking down to see him unzip his shorts. I look up at the house suddenly afraid my brother would walk out and catch us.

“JJ, wait, let’s go somewhere.” He answers with tugging my shorts and panties down to my ankles, hooking one of my legs over his hips before driving himself inside me. I fall back against the tree, all rational thought gone.

JJ yanks me against him and I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him between pornographic moans. I yank his shirt up his back, digging my nails in as he presses my bare ass against the tree with every brutal thrust. Sweat was dripping down his brow and down his back but I didn’t care. I wanted to taste all of it and I suddenly hated that he had too many clothes on. A body like his deserved to be seen and worshipped.

“Fuck..” He growls against my ear. My ass is burning from rubbing against the bark of the tree and he must see me wincing because he suddenly withdraws long enough to spin me around just to fill me back up from behind.

“JJ, anyone could see.” I whine. He yanks my head back by my hair and assaults my neck with his mouth.

“Cum with me, baby. Cum for me. Rub your clit.” My fingers touch my clit causing my body to tighten around his cock and he grunts loudly, pulling my hips back harder and harder until we’re both cumming.

“I love you.” He breathes, molding himself against my back while still buried fully inside me. His hand finds my chin, turning me so he can capture my lips. I kiss him back with a smile on my lips.

“Was it that good?” I tease, but JJ spins me around as he cups my face between his warm hands.

“I’m not kidding. I love you.” My heart bursts within my chest as I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. I smile when he reaches down to pull my clothes back up over my sore ass and tucks himself away between kisses.

“I love you too, JJ.” He grins before burying his face in my neck.

“Do you think John B will let me move back in?” JJ jokes, pulling away and leading us towards the Chateau.

“One way to find out.”

#smutwarning #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fic #outer banks smut #jj maybank imagine #obx2 #jj maybank fluff #jj obx #jj maybank x you #rudy pankow

[js4440]

Needless to say, my bestie proofread it. ❣️❣️❣️

Pete steps off the train and scans the crowded station; his heart is pounding with anxiousness. They kept coming back to each other over decades, since their relationship had begun unraveling amidst the chaos of their youth. Pete was with Charlie when they were in their twenties, Tom proposed to Sarah in rage, they couldn’t work it; Tom wanted to go back to Pete when they were in thirties, now Pete was with Penny. Just now Pete has decided he couldn’t make it work with Penny, and he’s ready to see Tom in their forties. Time has passed; wounds have healed, but ready to reopen, so Pete reluctantly feels they’ll fuck it up once again; and won’t see each other till they reach their fifties, maybe sixties.

As he pushes through the bustling crowd, a familiar face catches his eye. There stands Tom, just as he remembers, with a few more wrinkles carving their way onto his face. His golden hair has now turned to gray, but when their eyes meet, Pete feels the blue-green in them are like how they’ve always been. Memories of their laughter, their late-night conversations, and stolen kisses flood back, and Pete cannot help the bittersweet smile that has curved his lips.

Tom reciprocates the smile; excitement and somehow trepidation are dancing in these deep blue-green eyes. They move toward one another, their steps quicken until they stand face-to-face for the first time in the most recent decade. Pete reaches out tentatively, his fingers are brushing against Tom’s hand, tracing an invisible line which carries the weight of their shared history.

‘I never thought I’d see you again,’ Tom murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

‘Why? This way or another, we see each other every other decade, Ice…’ An angry smile emerges.

Tom’s gaze softens, his voice is filled with longing and remorse, but he’s still whispering: ‘Life has a funny way of bringing people back together, doesn’t it?’ He wants to speak more sentences, but there’s a reason why he cannot talk more. A reason that Pete doesn’t know…

They find a nearby café and settle into a quiet corner. The mere presence of one another was overwhelming, but the silence is punctuated by the echoes of questions left unasked, emotions unexplored.

‘So, tell me about your life,’ Pete finally breaks the silence, eyes locked with Tom’s. ‘What have you been up to all this… decade?’

Tom leans back, a hint of sadness tugs at the corners of his mouth. ‘After we… after everything happened with Sarah, I moved away, tried to start fresh… I built a life, but there was always something missing. Someone missing…’

This is the longest and the loudest Tom could speak, so he is surprised himself, all that has gone out of his mouth without the interruption of a cough or two. Pete nods, feeling some familiar ache is resurfacing within him. ‘I know what you mean. It’s hard to move on when you’re always wondering about what could have been.’

Tom feels sleepy, tries to hide it because Pete doesn’t know he’s on medical drugs. ‘What about you?’ he forces himself to speak, repressing his yawn. ‘Is there anyone new?’

‘There’s one, but not new. He was always the one, he always is, and he always will be.’ As the evening sun scatters golden light through the café windows, Pete gently reaches out and takes Tom’s hand into his own. Tom’s breaths hitch; his heart is racing at the touch that hasn’t lost any of its electricity, which makes it impossible for him to hold back his coughs any longer. He has a coughing fit coming from the depths of his lungs. This doesn’t look normal. Pete tries to offer him his own glass of water, but the coughing fit has made Tom almost paralyzed. He’s unable to move his hand, let alone accepting the glass. But the look in his eyes is assuring, Pete calmly waits until Tom’s voice is back to him and he’s ready to speak again.

‘You know,’ Tom starts slowly, there’s a natural hesitation in his voice. ‘I’ve never stopped thinking about you. And I could act out like everything’s the same, but… this disease has so many overt symptoms that…’

Pete’s grip tightens, as he stutters: ‘W-What disease are you talking ’bout…?’

Tom’s eyes search for Pete’s, his thumb is tracing gentle circles on the back of his hand. ‘Now you’ll just listen to me. If I can’t say all these at once, I may never speak again today. We were young… and I’ve always thought we were too late for one another because we were both stubborn. And women got in the way but… I can speak about the recent years; I’ve stayed away from you because I’m fighting, Mav.’

Pete himself fights back tears; Ice is talking about one specific disease, surely. ‘Oh, Ice…’ he begins, hoping that he’ll heal, but he can’t forgive him for keeping that secret for too long.

Since Tom knows he’s consumed each word of today, he silently takes out a pen and finds a handkerchief to write on. ‘The struggle of our past had given way to the beauty of our present, but I cannot promise for a future,’ he writes. ‘I know I’m selfish, but I beg you to stay. I might die, but I want you to be by my side... when my time has come, Mav...’

‘No, I won’t stay with you!’ exclaims Pete. ‘Because you think you’ll die…! I’ll stay, because you’ll live! We’ll both live, okay! We’ll live together, forever!’

Everyone’s heads turn to Pete, but he’s too proud to apologize. He feels like they’re the only people at the café, and nothing –nobody– else but Tom matters any more. He’s as loud as Tom cannot be, and he doesn’t feel any shame.

‘There’s no hope,’ mouths Tom, Pete is magically able to read his lips.

‘No, I don’t believe that! There’s always a better hospital, always a better doctor—’

Tom shakes his head, he’s already written his will, but these are details that will be shared with Pete later. For the moment, he seems to agree with Pete because he can empathize with his shock. He lets him believe there’s a better hospital with the best doctor that could cure throat cancer miraculously.

For a moment, he even lets himself believe the worse days aren’t at the door, he won’t be unable to eat, and he won’t go full mute.

‘They told us AIDS had no cure, look what… now…’ Pete gulps, finally calmed down; but his tears run down like rain now. He realizes what he’s doing, tries to apologize; thinks he’s fucked up everything, but cannot stop himself from doing so. Tom knows there’s no need to go too harsh on himself, but he isn’t able to show reaction on time, because speaking is the fastest way to react, and it’s the last thing he can do now.

He plans what he’ll tell Pete tomorrow, too.

He’ll tell him, out loud, how he feels safe, since Pete has come back to his life.

He’ll tell Pete, how much he loves him.

But for now, he just wants to listen to the song they play at the café . . . with Pete’s hand, still in his palm.

Quietly, he listens to ‘Me Arrendé’ by Los Tres.

Can submit the same thing to AO3 too, I don't know.

#icemav #top gun fanfiction #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky

[bubblesandpages]

I am choosing to believe — for the sake of my own sanity and character preferences — that Sel and Sarah are fairly close friends. 

Also, just for reference and lols, I need you to picture them as an intimidating part-demon child next to a tiny pixie of a girl.

I present the evidence for my hair-thin headcanon.

“You’re blitzed, buddy. Move.” Sarah wiggles her arm between us and pushes [Sel] away from me. He bats at her hand and — misses. The economy of movement he’s always displayed is gone; every gesture imprecise, too big.

It’s the most surreal thing I’ve ever seen, and after a night like tonight, that’s saying a lot. 

My question is muffled behind my fingers. “What’s wrong with him?”

He’s aether-drunk,” she says, as if that explains everything. She pushes against him with her full weight, but Sel sort of drapes his body over her. She grunts in frustration. 

. . . 

“I am not!” Sel declares loudly.

Sarah shoves him hard and Sel growls at her. Shockingly, she growls back. It’s a small, silly-sounding imitation of his low rumble, but it works. He blinks at her and gives a confused grimace that is, somehow, the extreme opposite of intimidating.  

First the fact Sel is comfortable enough to use Sarah as a personal cruch, the fact that Sarah appears comfortable and unbothered by being in such close proximity to Sel — not trying to draw away out of fear or disgust — is very telling. 

Sarah is so obviously unafraid of the walking descendent of Merlin, who we’ve seen be nothing but intimidating or threatening up until now. She growls back at him like they’re both in grade school and it doesn’t mean anything! She’s not afraid at all, they’re comfortable with each other IT’S FANTASTIC. Likewise Sel has no objections to having her prop him up, which drunk or not I can’t see him allowing in most situations. Even the fact that Bree’s seeing all of this I would have expected to be out of character for him, but then it’s been a long night, and if it’s Sarah . . . well, maybe being vulnerable around her doesn’t count, and Bree will be mesmered or revealed to be a demon and killed soon enough anyway, so what does it matter if she sees him leaning on another person?

Also, there is nothing not amusing about the extreme opposite of intimidating.

“Tonight shouldn’t have happened Sar,” he mutters. His dark brows draw together as if he’s seeing it happen all over again. “Nothing like that has . . . has ever happened before. When the Regents find out . . .”

Sarah’s tone turns soothing. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“That’s not what they’ll say,” Sel whispers, his hoarse voice almost lost to the wind. 

Sel uses her nickname. Sel! Who only refers to Nick and Bree in the formal! Tell me that doesn’t beget familiarity between these two!

And what’s more Sel’s letting her in on his fear of being killed/imprisoned for going the equivalent of demon insane. And Sarah immediately reciprocates and tries to assure him he isn’t losing his marbles and be thrown under the bus for it. She’s trying to comfort him. Something we don’t see anyone else try to do in this entire book aside from Bree, eventually (which, how messed up is that? I know that’s the entire point BUT it’s still super uncomfortable that all of these people have grown up together, know each other’s fate, and particularly how cruelly that fate comes for Merlins, and do nothing when Sel is in danger of tipping over the deep end, and is very clearly freaking out over what’s going to happen to him. Okay. End of rant, for now). 

“That’s not what they’ll say,” the fact that this line is whispered like Sel’s letting show his very real fear about what these events mean to Sarah, how he might fail in protecting his charge because he’s so stupid, and has never wonted any of this. and why is he only choosing to NOW be interested? and comes back dragging an incredibly sus girl around with him? The openness and vulnerability is getting to me.

Regardless of how few scenes we get of these two I think the few we do are lovely, and speak volumes to their relationship. 

#Legendborn #Tracy Deonn #Fizzy talks #reading #selwyn kane #is this even coherent? eh #i'll edit in the morning

[derpinathebrave]

ICE -In Case of Emergency ~ IceMav

READ ON AO3

So I got the brainworms again. This time from @pilotsandgays and now I've started a chaptered fic of Ice and Mav being exes (slightly nasty exes) but Ice is still listed as Mav's emergency contact.

I'm posting the first chapter here but the rest will be only on AO3 unless ya'll really want it on both

SUMMARY: "I'm your emergency contact. You know, you're supposed to take that out when you leave someone." Commander Tom "Iceman" Kazansky has spent five years trying to forget Pete Mitchell ever existed let alone walked out on him. Everything is brought to a boil when he is called after Pete is in a serious accident and Tom is the emergency contact. Now Ice has to face up to some tough questions; why did Maverick walk out on him without a goodbye? And why is he helping the man that destroyed his heart?

TAGS: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Sarah Kazansky, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, Exes to Lovers, Hospitals and Medical, Whump, not much beta we die like goose, Canon Compliant, mostly canon compliant anyway, Period-Typical Homophobia, Don't Ask Don't Tell, Mention of Aids crisis, characters being added later

WORDS: 3059

Chapter 1: A Ringing Phone

The phone was ringing. Commander Tom “Iceman” Kazansky could hear it through the front door as he struggled to juggle his paperwork and get the key working in the lock. 

It was still a little strange to have his own phoneline after living so many years from carrier to carrier and sharing with literally everyone else. Every time it rang he jumped at the noise and then rushed to pick it up. Usually it was Slider, his mum or Sarah. They were the only people that really knew he was in a permanent residence again, and the only people he really cared enough to give his number to. 

The sticky lock finally gave and Iceman shouldered his way through the door. He would need to fix that soon, the way the door jammed in its frame and the lock took a specific wiggle to get the key to turn. 

He tossed the paperwork down onto his coffee table as he strode to the kitchen. The phone fell silent as he reached out to grab it from the wall. He pulled it to his ear anyway, haring the dial-tone. Rolling his eyes, Tom set the phone back in the cradle. 

The house was small, single story and sparsely furnished. He walked back to the front door and pulled his boots off, setting them in place on the shoe rack. The door opened into the living room, a couch long enough to fit him on it lying down, a coffee table and a TV on a chest of drawers. He had bought two low bookshelves to line the wall beneath the window that looked out to his neighbours fence, but they were currently rather empty. His Top Gun trophy was propped up on top of the one to the right. Sarah kept threatening to come and decorate for him, but her work hadn’t allowed for that yet. 

Ice moved through the living room and down the short hall to his bedroom. This was marginally more comfortable. He had a queen bed with a crocheted blanket his mother had pressed upon him when he had let her come and see his new place. It was a mixture of blues and greys and made him think of the ocean. Beyond the bed, he had matching nightstands with lamps, a laundry hamper and a winged arm-chair (another addition from his mother). He mostly just tossed clothes onto the armchair until it annoyed him enough to put them away in the cupboard.

As he was unbuttoning his shirt, the phone began to ring once more. He went to answer it.

“Hello?” He said, resisting the automatic urge to add “Commander Kazansky” as he had to at the office. 

“Hello, is that Tomas Kazansky?” A feminine voice said. 

“Speaking.” Ice frowned. He didn’t know this voice. A simmer of anxiety settled in his chest. 

“Mr Kazansky, my name is Maria, I’m a nurse at Holy Spirit Hospital. You were listed as the emergency contact for Peter Mitchell?” Maria said. 

Tom’s anxiety shot straight to a boil. His hand gripped the phone tight, his heart pounding loud enough to drown out the crackle on the phoneline. He realised she was waiting for an answer.

“Yes. Uh,” he blinked and shook his head a little. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Kazansky, he’s been in a serious accident and is currently in emergency,” Maria carried on in a solemn voice.

“What type of accident?” Ice forced out. 

“He had a pretty serious collision on a motorcycle.” Maria said. “He’s stable for now, conscious but in pain, and he’ll be going in for surgery this evening. If you wanted to come down and see him, you’re welcome to. He’ll need a change of clothes and some toiletries.”

Ice turned and pressed his forehead against the kitchen wall beside the phone. He took a long, slow breath in, held it a moment and then let it slide back out just as slowly. 

“Thank you,” he said, hating himself, “I’ll be there in about an hour.”

“OK. Just let our Emergency receptionist know you’re here to see Peter and they’ll let you through. I will let you know he can only have one visitor at a time, so if you plan to bring other people, they won’t be able to come in with you,” Maria said.

“Thank you,” he said again. 

“No problem. Thank you.” The phone disconnected. 

Iceman placed the phone back with extra care. As much as he wanted to smash it to pieces, that wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He did allow himself thirty more seconds of pressing his face against the wall in despair.

Heaving a sigh, Ice straightened once more and headed back to his bedroom. He filled a backpack with sweatpants, a soft t-shirt, boxers and socks. He moved to the bathroom, taking a disposable razor and spare toothbrush from beneath the sink. 

As he straightened, Ice caught his own face in the mirror. His blue eyes were slightly wild.  He could not go into that hospital room and let Maverick see him like that. He paused, staring himself down until the startled expression had settled back into his trademark detachment. He toyed with the idea of a shower but decided it would only amp him up more if he had to wait longer. May as well just get this whole thing over with. He buttoned his uniform back up, tucking it in once more. 

Ice let himself have one more second of hesitation before he grabbed the backpack, pulled his boots on and relocked his janky front door. 

 ===

His jaw ached, knuckles white on the steering wheel and shoulders tense. Ice negotiated traffic with extra care. He was desperately trying to stay calm. His ice-cold facade was slipping and melting every time he remembered where he was going and why. 

The sun was closing in on the horizon by the time he pulled into the hospital parking lot. Tom followed the signs for Emergency, completely unable to calm the thundering of his heart or the urge to bite at the inside of his cheek. He took up a soft mantra that everything would be fine, he would be A-OK and this would be fine. 

The lady at reception gave him directions down to the bay that Maverick was in. Hefting the backpack, and giving one last attempt at masking his anxiety, Ice headed for the bed. 

When he peeked through the curtain the bay was empty. No bed at all. After a moment he noticed the motorcycle helmet and boots thrust out of the way under a bench and he knew he was where Maverick had been at the very least. He slipped into the bay, leaving the curtain open. 

Ice took a deep breath. He gripped both fists together and then shook them out. It made him feel a little better. He did it again. 

With his body slightly calmed, he bent to look at the helmet. It was a mess. Deep gouges ran across the left side, the visor had been torn away completely. Ice swallowed. 

“Excuse me, sir?” a man said from behind him. 

Ice straightened quickly and spun. A tall, orderly in orange scrubs stood at the gap in the curtain. 

“Can I help you?” The orderly said. His eyes scanned Ice, taking in the shiny wings on his uniform. 

“Uh, yeah, the man that was in this bay, Pete Mitchell, where is he?” Ice said

“Are you the next of kin?” The orderly said, eyes narrowing a little. 

Ice hesitated for a split second. “Yes,” he said. 

“He’s been taken up to surgery. They’re prepping him now,” the orderly gave him a sympathetic smile. “You’re in the wrong place. If you want to grab those things I’ll give you directions to surgery.”

Ice nodded in reply, pulling the corners of his lips up but not really smiling. 

He grabbed the helmet and boots, following the orderly back to the crossroads of the hallways. After extensive and confusing instructions, Ice ventured back to the elevators and headed up to the surgery wards. 

Stuffed into the back corner of the elevator, a small kid with a very broken arm in a bed taking up the majority of the room, Iceman chewed on his cheek once more. Of course it hadn’t been as easy as bringing Maverick clothes and organising him a ride home. Of course the idiot needed surgery.

He squeezed out of the elevator on the floor he needed and followed the signs through the labyrinthine corridors. Finally he came upon another nurse’s station. 

“I’m here to see Peter Mitchell,” Iceman said, resettling the boots in his grip. 

“Let me see,” the nurse focused on her computer for a moment, tapping keys slowly. “Sure, he’s just gone in with Doctor Yanch. The surgery is set to be a minimum of two hours. You’re welcome to wait in our relations room, or head down to the cafeteria and come back closer to his end time.”

“Thank you,” Ice said, despite wanting to slam his head into her counter. “I’ll head to the cafeteria.”

The nurse gave him a nod and turned back to her work. Ice made his way back to the elevators slowly.

As he was sitting in the cafeteria, ignoring the stares of civilians because he was still in his khakis, Ice questioned his sanity. Only Pete Mitchell brought this side of him out. The side that questioned what the hell he was doing. 

He ate a truly awful sandwich and drank worse coffee. The helmet was set on the table in front of him and Tom found his eyes straying to it every few seconds. The paint had once resembled Maverick’s flight helmet, the white and red lines leading over the back and “Maverick” stamped across there rather than the front. The eagle on the side was almost completely destroyed, gouged and scratched into an amorphous red and white blob. 

If he had not seen the state of the helmet, he probably would have already gone. It was only the deeply unsettling scars on the helmet that kept him in the cafeteria, drinking awful coffee and waiting two hours. 

When the time was up, he stood, stretched and headed back to surgery. His heart took up a new tattoo of anxiety in his chest as he drew closer to the ward. The nurse directed him down to recovery and warned him that Pete was recovering and the anaesthetic was going to linger for a while. 

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell was pale, lips a little purple on the edges. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be asleep. He was shirtless but mostly covered with a paper gown. His left arm was in a sling, securing his wrist up by his right collarbone. As Ice followed the arm to the shoulder there was large bandages covering from his bicep to the rise of his neck. Mav’s lower body was covered with a hospital blanket. He was still hooked into a drip of fluids and a second of blood. 

Tom’s chest squeezed, all air escaping at the sigh of Maverick. It was much worse than he had expected. A weird mixture of relief and irritation washed through him. He set the backpack down in the corner, out of the way, and turned back to find a doctor pushing into the room. 

“Hello, I’m Doctor Yanch, you are?” The doctor said, eyes flickering over Ice’s uniform. 

“I’m Tom Kazansky, his—“ Ice almost said wingman, aborting at the last second and amending it to “— next-of-kin.” 

“Ah,” Doctor Yanch nodded. “I was just coming to do my post-surgery assessment. I was Peter’s surgeon.”

A nurse in teal scrubs bustled in, ignoring them both and heading straight for Pete.

Ice glanced at Pete but he hadn’t moved and his eyes were still closed. “OK.” He said to the doctor, “can you explain his injuries to me? I haven’t had a chance to hear the damage.”

“Oh,” surprise flickered across the surgeons face before he spoke once more. “Pete sustained a proximal humeral fracture dislocation. Meaning that his upper arm fractured and dislocated at the same time. I’ve set the bone with screws and relocated the joint through surgery. He was also brought in with rib fractures and a haemothorax, blood in his chest cavity that had collapsed his left lung.”

Tom realised he wasn’t breathing and inhaled through his nose, waiting for the doctor to continue. 

“His lung has reinflated and we’re confident the internal bleed has stopped. He will be receiving blood for another few hours and fluids.” The Doctor gave a tight smile to show he was finished. 

“Thank you,” Ice said, voice a little hoarse. 

“Not a problem.” The doctor turned away and began scribbling in Pete’s chart, mumbling to the nurse. When he was done, he hung the chart back at the end of the bed and walked out. 

Ice watched as the nurse leaned over and took Maverick’s right hand from under the blanket. She began squeezing it and calling his name. His heart began a horrid tap dance on his nerves once more.

“Peter?” The nurse called again, a little louder. 

“Try Mav,” Ice said, stepping a little closer and immediately regretting it. 

The nurse looked at him in surprise. 

“His nickname, its Mav or Maverick, try that,” Ice explained at her expression. “He hates Peter.”

“Mav?” She called, “it’s time to wake up now.”

Slowly, Mav’s eyes flickered and opened. He frowned at the nurse and began to move. She pinned him down with a firm hand, clearly practised at this. 

“No, no, no moving, Mav,” she said to him. “You’ve been in surgery. We fixed that shoulder up for you. Are you in pain?”

“No,” Mav mumbled. “Yes.” 

The sound of his voice sent fresh spikes through Ice but he remained still and silent in the background. 

“My chest hurts,” Mav said, his voice slurred. 

“Yes, you’ve got some fractured ribs. Can you squeeze my hand?” She placed her fingers in his left hand and nodded when Mav obeyed. “Good. Alright, I’m going to let you wake up a little more and then I’ll be back to run some more tests. You can chat to your friend but don’t move too much, OK?” She said.

“Mm-hmm.” Mav gave a tight nod already closing his eyes again. 

The nurse shot Ice a tight smile and bustled back out into the hall. He merely watched her go before turning back to where Maverick was laying. The other man had his eyes closed again but there was tension through his forehead, showing Ice that he was still awake. 

Ice gripped his fists, ignored the nausea that was rising and falling in his abdomen, and sat on the uncomfortable armchair by the window. When he glanced at Maverick his eyes were open and staring at the ceiling. They shifted, catching Ice’s and holding for a protracted moment. Pete blinked, shook his head a little and closed his eyes once more. 

He didn’t open his eyes again for another fifteen minutes. Ice was watching, cataloguing the way Maverick’s tension would sink out of his body as he slipped into sleep and then rise again as he woke once more. 

The second time Maverick opened his eyes, he whipped his head over to stare at Tom with wide eyes. He blinked. 

Tom gave him the most mild expression he could muster.

“Fuck, you’re actually here,” Maverick said, voice less slurred now. 

“I’m your emergency contact,” Ice said blandly, determined to not let Maverick see the agitation going on in his body. “You know, you take that out of your wallet when you leave someone.”

There was a beat of tension and Maverick turned away to stare at the ceiling. 

“Flattered you came,” Maverick said, wincing a little. 

“Mm-hmm,” Ice drawled at him. 

Internally Tom was beginning to suspect he needed to visit the cardio ward and have his heart checked. It had been hammering a harsh rhythm in his chest for the last twenty minutes and showed no signs of stopping now. 

“Why did you come?” Mav asked, voice strained. 

“I knew no one else would,” Iceman shrugged. He almost regretted the words as pain flared and died on Maverick’s face. “Should I call the nurse? You look rough.”

“I was hit by a car, Kazansky, of course I look rough.” Pete was clearly trying to sound snappish but there was too much pain in his voice for it to carry. 

Ice sighed and stood. He moved to the side of Mav’s bed and found the call button. 

“Don’t you touch—“ Maverick didn’t make it to the end of the sentence before Ice pushed the button for him. “Go away, why are you here?” Maverick groaned, face growing steadily paler. 

Ice didn’t bother to reply but simply returned to the uncomfortable armchair. He willed his heart back to a regular pace and when it refused to comply, he settled for fishing his gum out of his pocket and beginning to chew on a fresh piece. 

The same nurse returned, took one look at Maverick’s face and launched into action. She set up his pain medication, teaching him about the button to let it release. She then began conducting the promised tests from earlier. Ice sat in the chair and watched, eyes roaming Maverick as he did. When the nurse pulled the gown down to attach patches to Mav’s chest, Ice couldn’t drag his eyes away. He knew he should, but the horrific red and maroon patches that spread from beneath Mav’s arm to the middle of his chest held him transfixed. 

The doctor had said words like “collapsed lung”, “fractured ribs” and “bleeding into the chest cavity” but hearing about it and seeing it were vastly different things. Ice found his breath was caught in his chest once more. He tried to breathe, working hard to stay perfectly still. 

As much as he wanted to deny it, Ice made a snap decision in that moment. He knew he would regret it later. He knew that it would cause him such intense pain that it would rival Maverick’s. But Tom also knew he couldn’t leave Maverick alone to deal with this. 

He was still his wingman. Whether Maverick wanted him to be or not.

#top gun #top gun 1986 #icemav #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #fanfic

[pinkeoni]

“I held a mirror up to them.”

This is a line that Vecna speaks in regard to his parents, and I find the use and repetition of mirrors in his speech to be pretty striking.

Mirrors have been used symbollically to represent a characters inner self in tv and film many times before, but it did remind me of its specific usage in Twin Peaks

Spoilers for Twin Peaks and FWWM below the cut, as well as a trigger warning for SA and child abuse

Basically, mirrors are used in the shows second season to reveal the identity of BOB, or Laura’s killer, who turns out to be her father Leland.

This actually happens a few times, there’s a similar shot of Leland in a different mirror and the mirror is used once again when Agent Cooper is possessed by BOB at the end of season 2.

In FWWM we get a striking shot of Laura’s mother Sarah along with Leland in front of a mirror.

In both FWWM and the show, Sarah is aware of some kind of sinister presence in her home and receives visions of BOB and the pale horse (an omen of death in the series) however Sarah doesn’t fully realize what this sinister presence actually is. She sees Leland in the mirror, but she does not see all of Leland for who he truly is. She lived with the evil in her own home and failed to see who it actually was. (Part of this is because Leland would drug Sarah at night while he abused Laura)

Sarah receives visions of BOB after Laura's death, but even then she is not able to put it together that Leland is BOB until after Leland is taken into custody and eventually dies.

tagging: @bylrndgm

#do with this what you will #can be applicable to the byers and the creels #however you wanna slice it #stranger things #twin peaks #st x tp #tp x st #tw sa #tw child abuse #leland palmer #sarah palmer

[awindylife-writes]

This Time Around (Chapter 5)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, (here), Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10 (ongoing)

Relationship: third Doctor x reader, Sarah Jane Smith x reader (platonic)

Summary: The Doctor encounters the night nurse and Sarah is very, very patient.

Warnings: none

Author's notes: l'm quite pleased with how this one turned out. Let me know what you think.

The concepts of bond-mates and visible personal timelines belong to @inthisformiambadwolf.

~

"Excuse me, sir, but, what are you doing here?"

If asked, the Doctor would wholeheartedly deny it, but he cringed under the night nurse's inquisitive stare. He had honestly forgotten there were any other people around.

Nurse Ada Carter, if he remembered correctly from the few times a mission had landed anyone on the Brigadier's personal team in the sick bay, was a sturdy woman in her fifties with a pointy nose, round jaw and many averted deaths under her belt.

"You know very well that the infirmary is out of bounds outside of visiting hours," she sternly reminded him, "unless you are a family member and have a permission from the Brigadier. Would you mind explaining what you were doing in there?" She cocked her head with her lips pressed into a thin line, making the wrinkles around her mouth stand out.

"Er, well," the Doctor offered a tight-lipped smile as he rubbed his neck, "earlier today my friend Miss Smith told Doctor Richards that we don't know anything about your patient, but that isn't true. l'm her primary contact and l can assure you she'll confirm it when she wakes up. I intend to stay with her until she does, l'm just fetching her things." There, he'd managed to squeeze your incredible relationship into three sentences without mentioning he didn't even know your name.

He didn't know your name. The thought pierced him like a dagger and his breath hitched as he braced the ache.

"Well, that is hard to believe," the Doctor forced his mind to focus on the nurse's smooth voice again, "but if you are her family, there are quite a few things to go over first; her name, birth date and home address for a sta-"

"Look, madam," the Doctor really didn't have the patience for this, "neither of us exists in your Central Intelligence Records, so you couldn't check what l'd tell you even if you wanted to, and l can't prove it either. I can't explain how or why right now, but l care about her a great deal and I don't want her to be alone. She's been through a lot and l'd like to stay with her until she wakes up, will you please let me?"

He needed to see Sarah and get back to you as soon as possible. He'd just found you, he'd just found you and every second he had to be away from you stretched into prickling infinity.

Nurse Carter gave him another one of her piercing stares that pinned him to the spot. After a moment or two of examining him, she finally sighed, "Alright. You can stay with her tonight, and tommorow you can sort this out with Doctor Richards."

A relieved breath left the Doctor as he smiled gratefully. "Thank you." They couldn't stop him from staying even if they tried, but he would prefer to not cause a ruckus before you even woke up.

"I just need to speak with my friend," he gestured toward the door, "l've left her waiting for far too long."

Nurse Carter nodded, not exactly thrilled with him, and the Doctor happily slipped away.

~

"There you are." Sarah-Jane was just about to go looking for that tall idiot of a Time Lord when he finally stepped through the damn door. But at the dreamy look on the Doctor's face, her frustration turned into curiousity.

There was an absentminded smile on his lips and his shoulders were slack like the weight he'd been bracing against had been lifted. His quiet joy radiated from him in an overwhelming wave, it lit up the drab hallway and made her want to smile too like it was a holiday. His delight was impossible to escape and there was a kind of wonder too, as if he couldn't quite believe it himself. His spirit was soaring somewhere high and free.

Sarah remembered the way you had smiled at the Doctor before you collapsed, with bliss so similar it made her think. She knew you couldn't have woken up that quickly, so how could he have...

"What happened?" she murmured, feeling softer in the face of the Doctor's relief, and he blinked.

"Sorry?"

"You look..." She cocked her head and simply peered at him for a moment, then settled on, "different." She couldn't explain it, really, couldn't name that power that set his face alight, he was just... He looked more content than she'd ever seen him, settled, like he'd stopped holding his breath.

"Do l?" he murmured as a smirk curved his lips. He looked quite pleased with himself when he nodded, "Yes, I suppose l do."

Sarah's eyes narrowed as she stepped towards him. "What happened? What did you find out?"

The Doctor inhaled, "Well, now l know for certain that l do know our mystery guest and that she's from my future, but I think it'd be better to wait with the rest of it."

She opened her mouth to object but he quickly went on, "l'm not sure of quite a few details myself, my dear, and l'm afraid l'd only confuse you if l tried to explain everything now. We'll both have to wait until she wakes up."

She examined him carefully and tried to put the puzzle together despite the missing pieces. "She's important," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

The Doctor nodded anyway. "She is."

After a few moments, Sarah decided pushing him wasn't worth it. There was no reason to think he wasn't telling the truth and he would have to explain eventually. "Alright," she nodded. "Will you be staying then?"

"Er, yes, but could l ask a favour of you?"

She cocked her head and he went on, "Could you tell the Brigadier about her injuries? I know you were probably about to head home, but if you could stop by..."

Sarah took a deep breath and shrugged, "I suppose."

"Good. Thank you, my dear," the Doctor smiled brightly and she nodded in turn.

Then a small laugh escaped her, "Well, this day certainly did not go as l expected," and she shook her head, "There's never a dull moment with you."

"True," he admitted as he rubbed his neck, "but this time l'm positively sure l had nothing to do with it." Then his eyes turned distant and dim and he looked away. "Not yet, at least."

Sarah chuckled, not even trying to understand. "Good night then, Doctor, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night," he nodded with a half-smile and Sarah headed down the hall.

After grabbing your cardboard box and the checkers board from the bench, the Doctor started his way back to you.

#the doctor #doctor who #doctor who originals #doctor who original series #classic doctor who #classic who #dw #doctor who x reader #dw x reader #the doctor x reader #third doctor x reader #3rd doctor x reader #three x reader #3 x reader #third doctor #3rd doctor #three #dw fanfiction #doctor who fanfiction #classic who fanfiction #reader insert #dw reader insert #Sarah Jane Smith #sarah #sarah jane #sarah-jane smith

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

India Lima Yankee - Chapter 34

Pairing: Rooster x Female OC

Word Count: 1899

Warnings: Mention of death

Summary: Juliette Kazansky discovers Maverick is back in town for a special training detachment, but she's more than a little blindsided when Rooster arrives too. Having not spoken to him for almost ten years after their less than amicable break-up, Juliette can only imagine how the next few weeks are going to play out when she remains head over heels in love with him while he wants nothing to do with Juliette other than to forget her.

Or so she thinks.

Notes: Chapters in italics are flashbacks. Also I know I used See You Again in another chapter but I couldn't resist using it for this one too.

Chapter Songs: See You Again (Carrie Underwood) A Thousand Years

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9 Chp 10 Chp 11 Chp 12 Chp 13 Chp 14 Chp 15 Chp 16 Chp 17 Chp 18 Chp 19 Chp 20 Chp 21 Chp 22 Chp 23 Chp 24 Chp 25 Chp 26 Chp 27 Chp 28 Chp 29 Chp 30 Chp 31 Chp 32 Chp 33 Chp 34

Juliette

Little was said between Rooster and Juliette from when they got out of bed at six to when they arrived at the port at eight-thirty. However, no words were needed. The kisses, the constant physical closeness between them, the incessant need to touch one another- be it on the hand, shoulder, back, face, anywhere- said it all. The loudest confirmation of their love, though, resided on Juliette's finger: Carole Bradshaw's wedding ring. Rooster insisted it stay on her right finger so that when he asked her to marry him again, he could get down on one knee and slip it on her proper ring finger instead. Juliette told him she was his, ring or not, and that she didn't care if he got down on one knee; all she cared about was him returning home alive. Still, Bradley insisted he wanted to do it properly since popping the question in the middle of the night, naked under the sheets, with the possibility he could die in the near future, was not the most romantic way to ask the love of your life to marry them. It'd made Juliette laugh, but it reminded her of how little time they had left.

The drive down to the port remained equally as quiet, the only noise being the panting of Rooster and Raptor in the backseat. Rooster kept his hand in Juliette's, his thumb gliding mindlessly across her skin. She found her gaze switching between their interlocked hands and his handsome face, trying to memorize as much of him as she could before he left.

Arriving at the port, they were greeted by Sarah, Jack, and Joey. Juliette gave her family a weak smile, but the knot in her throat continued to grow, making it impossible to speak. They appeared to understand, saying hello with a hug and expecting no other response. It didn't help that Juliette's muscles felt like they'd competed in an Iron Man, and it had nothing to do with last night's activities. It was the same feeling that would flood them every time she thought about Rooster leaving. Juliette always understood loving a soldier was difficult. Still, she never realized how much so until now when she had to let Rooster go, potentially to his death."

"Princess! Kazanskys!" Hangman's cheerful exclamation momentarily distracted her from her pain. She mustered up a smile. "Y'all made it!"

"We wouldn't have missed it," Sarah replied, smiling when Maverick came to stand beside her. "Are you all packed and ready to go?"

"Yes, ma'am," the pilots echoed, circling around her and Juliette. 

"Very good. When you return home, we'll have another big dinner to celebrate. So I expect all of you to come back. Understood?"

"Anything else is unacceptable," Hangman confirmed. He turned to Juliette. "Princess, it's been an honor. It won't be the same without you keeping us in line."

"And your ego in check," Juliette quipped, shocking herself with the steadiness of her voice. "I wish I could come, but I'll be here when you return."

Afraid if she said anything more, Juliette proceeded to hug each pilot, attempting to maintain her composure, but by the time she reached Hangman, it started slipping. He noticed, and when Jake pulled away, he said confidently, "Don't cry, Princess. We're all coming back."

"I know," Juliette replied, wiping a stray tear, annoyed with herself for letting the emotion slip through. She thought she would've been better about it with them in comparison to Rooster and Maverick, but the pilots meant almost as much to her as the two men did. "But it's still hard to see you leave. You better go before you get in trouble. I'll see you all soon."

The pilots nodded and began trekking off. Maverick, who had hugged the Kazanskys as well, began to leave with the aviators, but Juliette called out for him. He stopped and watched her approach. Then, ensuring they were out of earshot, Juliette said, "I know you'll do whatever is necessary to protect the pilots up there, but protect yourself too. Make sure you come home. I may have always called you Uncle Pete, but you've been like a second dad to me, and I can't- I can't lose another one."

The first wave of tears cascaded down her cheeks as Maverick enveloped her in his arms. Unless she was mistaken, Juliette had seen tears brimming his eyes at her words. They rang true, though. When Jules couldn't go to Iceman for something, she went to Maverick, and no matter the place or time, he'd always helped her, listened to her, and the idea of losing him, especially so soon after her dad, terrified her. 

"Please come home, Mav," Juliette whispered, giving him one final squeeze before pulling away. "That's an order."

Inexplicably, he chuckled. "Sorry, it's just the way you said 'that's an order,' you sounded so much like your dad."

"I've heard him I'm exactly like him."

"Without a doubt." Maverick rubbed her shoulder. "I'll be back, Princess. I love you."

"I love you, too, Mav." Juliette watched him walk off, both to see him board the ship and to give herself time to gather her composure and force the tears away before she faced her boyfriend. Unfortunately, Rooster gave her no time to do so as he appeared behind her, slipping his hand in hers. 

Stepping in front of her, he said, "I'll see you as soon as I can, okay?"

Don't go. Please don't go. I can't lose you too. I won't be able to handle it if I lose you too. The words screamed in her head, and the world swayed beneath her feet. Now that the time had arrived to watch Rooster leave, Juliette found herself feeling nauseous. Maybe it would be easier if she didn't know about the mission. The U.S. wasn't at war with anyone, not officially; at most, on any standard deployment, he'd probably be sent on recon assignments and patrols, maybe a few high-altitude bombing runs. But Juliette did know of the mission, of its complexity, of its deadly nature, and it paralyzed her with fear.

"Come here," Rooster said, his own voice cracking. Juliette threw her arms around his neck, embracing him so tightly that she vaguely wondered if he could breathe. Even if he couldn't, he didn't appear to care, returning her hug with a fierceness of his own. Neither one was willing to break it because doing so meant the end of their time together, and they weren't ready for that. They'd just gotten each other back. Juliette and Rooster understood it'd be hard to leave the other, but not like this. Juliette hadn't expected it to feel like her heart was being physically ripped out of her chest, to have the entirety of her head pounding in pain from holding back her tears.

"I love you so, so much, Juliette," Rooster whispered, kissing the crook of her neck. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Let me know as soon as you do about the date you're coming home, so I can count down the days until I can say 'yes, I'll marry you, Bradley Pete Bradshaw.'"

Rooster pulled back just far enough so he could look at her. A breathtaking grin spread across his face. "Juliette Sarah Bradshaw has a good ring to it."

"Here." She unhooked her arms from around his neck and unclasped her locket. She placed it in the palm of his hand and folded his fingers over it. Then, encompassing his hand in hers, Juliette said, "Since I can't be there physically, I want you to have this. That way, you'll have a part of me with you until you get back."

"Are you-"

"Positive." Then, not giving a damn if anyone saw them, friend or stranger alike, Juliette stood on her tiptoes and kissed Rooster, pouring as much love into it as she could. Her boyfriend returned it eagerly, wrapping his arms around her torso to keep her body flush against his. 

Don't let him go. You'll never see him again. He's going to die. Don't let him go.

"You should get going," Juliette whispered, ignoring the warnings echoing menacingly in her head. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Rooster reluctantly pulled away and put on his sunglasses. He bent down and kissed Raptor and Lightning on the heads, ordering them, "You take care of your momma until I get back, okay? I love you, boys."

The dogs barked in response like they were saying 'yes, sir,' even Raptor, who rarely barked at all. Rooster chuckled, gave his girlfriend one last kiss, and then forced himself to leave. Juliette watched him stride up to the ship, a piece of her heart shattering with each step he took.

"Bradley!" Juliette yelled, capturing his attention. He whirled around. "India Lima Yankee!"

A dazzling smile spread across his face. "India Lima Yankee!"

Rooster waved, and through her tears, Juliette waved back. Then, she turned on her heel and shuffled back to the parking lot to his car, her dogs at her side. 

Don't look back. Don't look back. Don't look back. The words repeated themselves in Juliette's head like a mantra because if she did, she didn't trust herself not to run up on the ship and join her pilots. If they went down, she should go down with them. 

Juliette pulled her father's bomber jacket taut and bowed her head, whispering to herself, "Dad, Carole, Goose, please take care of Bradley and Maverick. Please watch over them and protect them and make sure they come home. Please don't make me lose anyone else. I'm not- I'm not strong enough for that... not right now..."

A sob escaped Juliette's lips, and she cried as silently as she could on her way to the parking lot and back to Rooster's Bronco. It was hers until he returned, whenever that may be. Part of Juliette wanted to drive the car and only that car until Rooster came home. Another part of her didn't want to risk anything happening to it. She'd figure it out later, though. For now, it was time to grieve.

"Rock me like a hurricane!" Juliette jumped at the sound of her ringtone blaring from her purse. She'd forgotten to turn the volume down, and the last person she expected to call her was-

"Really?" Cyclone's slightly irked tone sounded from behind her. She whirled around to find the admiral striding up to her with Warlock at his side.

"Oh, shit," Juliette muttered, hastily wiping her tears away. It's not like it did anything because she was sure her eyes were bloodshot from crying and her face puffy. "Sirs."

"That's my ringtone?" Cyclone asked, his mouth in a thin line.

Juliette smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I thought it was kind of funny. It was that or the song 'Cyclone,' and I'm sure you'd rather have 'Rock Me Like A Hurricane' than that one."

Cyclone studied her face, searching for any hint of sarcasm, but deciding he didn't see any, responded, "I'll take your word for it."

"Are you here to say goodbye, sir?" She queried, confused by the fact they wanted to speak with her.

"No." The admiral handed her a brown envelope. "This is for you."

Juliette frowned. "What is it?"

"Official orders from the U.S. Navy. You're not done with the mission yet."

***

Tags: @lgg5989 @shanimallina87 @polikszena @summ3rlotus @souslesyeuxde @gleasonmalfoy @icemansgirl1999 @supernaturaldawning @thedarkinmansfield @lyannaforpresident @lapilark @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @simpofthecentury @shadeops21 @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @double-j @picklejuicesposts @bradshawsandbridgetons @majdoline @jakexfmc @catsandgeekyandnerd

#top gun #maverick #rooster #hangman #phoenix #bradley bradshaw #iceman #jake seresin #bob #top gun maverick #top gun 2 #pete mitchell #india #lima #yankee #romance #angst #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfics #fighter jets #coyote #payback #fanboy #sad #tom kazansky #sympathy #grief #love #family

[aparticularbandit]

Kisses Through The Decades VIII - 2020′s (III)

Chapter Summary: When Sarah finally mentions kicking the group out of their house, Wanda gets the distinct impression that Agnes is normally the one who needs to be kicked out.  It cuts through the addled parts of her brain still buzzing with liquor, and since she felt she’d overstayed her welcome even before she stepped foot into the house, she reaches over, takes Agnes’s hand in hers, and tugs her off of the dance floor to her.  “Time to go.”

“One more song,” Agnes pleads with large, brilliantly blue eyes.

Wanda gives in.

AO3

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

There is a fine line between being drunk and being wasted, and Wanda straddles that line like a professional bull rider at their very first rodeo.  Agnes, on the other hand, zig zags around it, toys with it, gets within a hair’s breadth of the line, and then dances back while saying, “I’m not touching you!”  Between the two of them, Sarah’s living room gets turned into a dance floor (entirely Agnes’s fault), and Wanda leans back against the wall with one of Harold’s lighter cocktails, sipping at it casually, until Agnes takes her hand and pulls her out during one of the slower songs.  Wanda’s hands find their spot on Agnes’s waist; she leans forward and rests her forehead on her shoulder, and she feels the weight of the others staring at them, and she’s just in that sweet spot of drinking to not care. (When she does, when her spine begins to grow tight with the anxiety of being seen so soon after Vision with someone else like this, when she grows small and clings closer to the other woman, Agnes holds her to her, so, so gentle.)  Then the song finishes, switches, speeds, and Wanda pulls away, finding a seat on the couch next to Mrs. Davis, who hands her a glass of ice water with an uncertain tweak of acknowledgment.

Not that Agnes minds any of this.  She apparently doesn’t need Wanda as a dance partner, happy to grind on the other dancers as they allow for it.  But often – often – she reaches back out for Wanda to join them, drawing her back onto the floor when the music fits her speed.

This is not all that happens.

Wanda spends some time in the kitchen with Harold, talking with him about his job at the bar, listening to his stories about his daughter, Emily, how her eyes had glimmered the first time she’d seen the snow, how she’d needed to get glasses for the first time this year – and then immediately assured Wanda that this had nothing to do with her, that they’d really been avoiding it for weeks before she’d shown up (longer for Harold, who had been taking care of Emily in the years after the Snap, and then Sarah had returned one day, just fading into place as if she’d never been gone, and they’d only had time for each other then, not for eye doctor appointments).  As he speaks, Wanda stares into her glass, hands half covered with her sleeves, the amber liquid shifting around the clinking of her ice.  He thinks maybe she should meet Emily one day, when the nightmares aren’t so bad.  Wanda nods, and they move to other topics.

Sarah disappears about an hour into the party and returns twenty minutes later, expression shadowed.  She takes a deep breath as Harold rubs her back, sets her face again, and then drags him onto the dance floor in a way that Agnes has never once done with Wanda, although she can see in her friend’s eyes how much she wants to do that very thing.

Herb takes that moment to introduce himself to her as John Collins, engulfing one of her hands with both of his.  His eyes warm when his stuttering words don’t seem to bother her in the slightest, and her own awkward smile encourages him to ask her for a dance, which, to her surprise, she accepts.  John is much more gentlemanly than Agnes, or maybe that Wanda feels less wary around him than she does with her friend, much less like she needs to keep up a wall between the two of them.  That allows her to relax, and she finds – in a moment that makes her heart catch in her throat – that she’s having fun.

Wanda is not drunk enough to be weepy, but she gets to the brink of it more than once, sniffling and rubbing a finger under one eye to shake a single tear away.

When Sarah finally mentions kicking the group out of their house, Wanda gets the distinct impression that Agnes is normally the one who needs to be kicked out.  It cuts through the addled parts of her brain still buzzing with liquor, and since she felt she’d overstayed her welcome even before she stepped foot into the house, she reaches over, takes Agnes’s hand in hers, and tugs her off of the dance floor to her.  “Time to go.”

“One more song,” Agnes pleads with large, brilliantly blue eyes.

Wanda gives in.  Of course, she does.  It isn’t like she’s going to get the opportunity to do this again, is she?

And at the end of the song – slow, so slow – when Agnes looks up at her like she’s going to kiss her, when Wanda’s breath catches just so, she’s absolutely certain it was the wrong decision.  That feeling doesn’t dissipate when Agnes doesn’t kiss her, when she lets the breath she’s been holding hiss through her teeth as Agnes leads her from the dance floor and out the front door, when she holds a hand up and waggles her fingers at the other guests in an appreciative goodbye.

She wants to express to them how grateful she is for this moment, but even if she could put it into words, she isn’t sure she could get the words out.

It’s enough, really.  It is.

More than.

And her heart feels so full and warm.

(But that may just be the cocktails talking.)

~

Agnes fiddles with her keys as they reach her front door, giggles as she finds them and drops them.  “Sorry. I might just be a little—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Wanda interrupts, “I’ve got—”

They bend down at the same time and bang their foreheads together.  Wanda stumbles back, hitting the wall just next to the door, and holds one hand to her head with a groan, but Agnes pushes it off as though nothing has happened, picks her keys up, and then starts to stand with a grin.  “Got them!”  Then her eyes catch on Wanda, and her lips press together as she straightens, eyes skimming up Wanda’s body in a way that makes Wanda hot under her dress. Agnes bites her lower lip, gives a little smile, and then swings her keyring around one finger.  “I got ‘em,” she repeats, like a child winning a prize at the carnival.

Wanda averts her gaze, runs her fingers nervously through her hair.  “Good,” she says, voice cracking.  “It’s cold out here, Agnes.”

“Oh!  Right, right. Sorry about that, hon.”  Agnes tries unsuccessfully to unlock the front door – “Wrong key, sorry!” – more than once, running through the keys on her keyring (why does she have so many keys?) before finally stumbling upon the right one. She relaxes as the key fits, as the knob turns, as she pushes the door open so hard that it slams into the inside wall.  “My house! Chez Moi!”  She grins as she walks inside and drops her boots on the floor.  “Let me go get us a couple glasses of water.”

Wanda follows Agnes carefully through the front door, glancing around at what looks to be a much more typical suburban house than the one she’d stolen from Ralph had been.  Of course, some things had made their way from Ralph’s house to this one – the antique cabinet full of ancient teacups, for one, stands right next to a mantle that is not taller than Agnes, but on the other side of the mantle is another glass display case, this one full of shot glasses that Agnes appears to have collected on her travels across….

One of them is from India?  Agnes is a world traveler?

Of course, Agnes isn’t a world traveler.  Agatha might have been, once, in the centuries she’s lived, but Wanda can’t be certain of that.  Perhaps this is an effect of that, of her knowledge impressed on Agnes in a way that made sense to the much shorter life this caricature of the enigmatic other woman might have lived.

Agnes stops halfway from her kitchen, holding two tall glasses of water in her hands, and glances at Wanda, bright eyes wide.  Wanda stares back at her, confused.  “Is something wrong?”

“It’s after the party,” Agnes says.

“Yeah.”

“You wanted to have a talk after the party,” Agnes continues, staring at Wanda, still frozen where she stands.  “You wanted to talk,” she repeats, “and then you were going to leave.”

Wanda’s gaze drops, and her fingers fidget together.  “I think you’re a little drunk to have that—”  She coughs, smiles, and shakes her head with a half of a laugh.  “I think we’re a little too drunk to—”  She can’t finish the sentence because a spike of fear settles into the center of her chest at the words, but she doesn’t know why she should feel so afraid.

Agnes relaxes at her words.  “Water,” she repeats to herself, as though a reminder, and then joins Wanda in the living room.  She hands Wanda one of the glasses and then collapses onto a corner of her couch, giggling, tucking her feet up underneath her, toes curling.

If she was a little more lucid, Wanda would be reminded of a few other moments they’d spent on couches together as she plops down next to Agnes, and while something in the back of her mind just jiggles at the action, it isn’t enough to stop her.  She takes a sip of her water – it’s nasty; Westview tap water is nasty; she’d fixed that when she’d been in control, but it went back to the way it had always been when she dropped the spell – and then places the glass on the floor.  “What’s so funny?”

At her question, Agnes immediately sobers.  She presses her mouth to the lip of her glass but doesn’t take a drink just yet. Her brows raise.  “Nothing.”

“Something,” Wanda presses.

Agnes just takes a long drink of her water and sets it on the floor next to the couch, too.  She taps the side of it and then settles back into her spot, staring at Wanda.  “I did a real good job with you, hon.  You look brilliant.”

“Agnes—”

“No, no.  Take the compliment.”  Agnes waves a hand in the air dismissively.

Wanda narrows her eyes at her.  “You were complimenting yourself.”

“And you!  I said you were beautiful, angel!  That is a compliment!”

“Bit of a backhanded compliment to say that I’m beautiful because you did a good job with me, but—”  Wanda is cut off entirely as a pillow hits her in the face.  She blinks in confusion and then stares at Agnes, her mouth slowly falling open in shock.  “Did you just throw a pillow at me?”

Agnes meets her eyes and boldfaced lies.  “No.”

“Mmhm.”  Wanda takes the pillow from where it’s fallen on the floor and just narrowly missed her glass of water.  “So how did this hit me in the face?”

Agnes shrugs.  “Pillows fall from the oddest places sometimes.  I once knew a pillow that fell from a hole in the—”  The pillow thwacks her in the face, and when it falls, she grins.  “Oh, it is on.”

Something in Wanda instinctively wants to push away from her, to curl up on the other corner of the couch, to put her hands up in a defensive position, palms facing Agnes, and apologize.  To back down.  But she’s drunk, and she’s not thinking clearly, and when Agnes bends, takes the pillow, and throws at her again, she dodges, reaches across, and tickles the soft, sensitive skin under Agnes’s knee.

Agnes squirms.  “Hey!  That’s not—” She laughs and tries to pull away. “That’s not fair!”

“All’s fair in love and war,” Wanda finds herself saying, and the same jiggle in the back of her brain that suggested this is a bad idea throbs.  She ignores it and pushes forward, running her fingers along the small of Agnes’s waist – that place where her hands have always fit – tickling her as Agnes squirms beneath her.

When Agnes tries to reach up a hand to get her back, Wanda takes her wrist and pins it over her head, and when she tries again with her other hand, Wanda does the same, leaving Agnes vulnerable under her tickling touch. Agnes twists this way and that, trying to escape her, but nothing helps.  She laughs.  “Stop!” she says between breaths.

Wanda shows no mercy.  “Say uncle.”

“No.”

Wanda doesn’t stop; if anything, she gets worse.  “Say it.”

“No!”

“Say it!”

Agnes’s eyes move this way and that, looking for anything to help her, and then they widen in sudden acknowledgment.  She grins, and before Wanda can even realize what she’s doing, she leans up and captures Wanda’s lips with her own.

It takes a second before Wanda catches on.  She freezes.  And then oh – oh—

Wanda melts.  She barely parts from her to catch her breath before she’s kissing her again – like nothing happened at all, not that those thoughts are even crossing her mind – and the fingers that were tickling Agnes’s waist curve, hold, then move, and untie the black ribbon like a belt around Agnes’s waist so that they can slip beneath her shirt, brush against her soft, soft skin.  Agnes moans against her lips at her touch, one leg lifting to brush her toes against Wanda’s, and Wanda leans deeper into her, fingers skimming up her ribcage, lips moving to her throat.  She finally releases Agnes’s wrists, and then Agnes’s fingers are in her hair, yanking, pulling her head back up so that she can kiss her again, her other hand pushing under Wanda’s dress and stroking her skin, warm and warm and warm, and Wanda’s fingers curve against her bra, the other fiddling with the clasp of her jeans, and Agnes runs her tongue just along her lip before pulling on it—

And she wants, she wants, she wants—

I want you, too, Wanda thinks, and in that same breath, she realizes what she’s doing, and she pulls away, stops, crumples against Agnes, resting her head on her shoulder, fingers pausing, one hand slipping from where it curved her breast back down to her ribcage, the other hovering on the edge of Agnes’s jeans, barely brushing the skin next to her belly button.

“What…what’s—”

“This is what you were supposed to be!”  The words tear through Wanda’s lips, scratched, stretched against her raw throat.  The angry tears spring to her eyes immediately, and no matter how much she tries to keep them from coming, she can’t stop them, and the pain in her throat from trying not to cry is too much.  “You were supposed to catch me, you were supposed to be here, and you—”

Agnes scoots back.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, angel—”

“Of course, you don’t!”  Wanda continues to lean against Agnes’s chest, shivering, body wracked with sobs.  “You don’t—”

She can’t say it.

It isn’t Agnes’s fault.

For a cold, cold moment, Wanda considers that maybe – maybe this is what Agatha deserves.  To be shut inside her own mind, while—

No.

Wanda pushes herself back again, away from the hands that are now trying to rub soothing circles along her back, holding herself together, hunched, halved in on herself, hating herself for the thought, hating herself for being like this, for doing this, for—

“Wanda, it’s okay, hon, it’s—”

“No.”  Wanda shakes her head.  “No, it’s not, it’s not, I can’t—”  She presses her lips together, bites on the inside of her cheek so tight to keep herself from saying anything else.  Agnes doesn’t deserve this.  Agatha might.  She deserves this anger, this frustration, but Agnes has done nothing wrong.

She can’t divorce the two.

Agnes leans forward and gently, gently, so gently wipes the tears from under Wanda’s eyes.  “Angel,” she says, trying to meet her eyes, “you’re not making any sense.”

You’re only this way because I made you this way.

Wanda can’t stop shivering.  She can’t—

Agnes wraps her arms around her, and in spite of herself, Wanda crumples against her again, letting the other woman’s warm body warm her.  As she does, Agnes whispers something comforting, something soft, but Wanda doesn’t pay attention to any of the words.  None of them matter.  Only what she was doing – only what she almost did – only—

~

Eventually, when Wanda has calmed enough to move, Agnes leads her upstairs to her spare bedroom.  “It’s a lot cleaner than mine,” she says, and that’s the truth.  The room is immaculate.  Dusted.  Perfect. But then, of course, it has to be. Wanda created Agnes to have a space for her if she ever needed it, a space perfect for her to just slip into.

Wanda presses her lips together, staring at the room, and turns back just before her creation shuts the door.  “Agnes,” she says, and the other woman pauses just in the frame.  “You love me, don’t you?”

Agnes chuckles but doesn’t turn back to her.  “Of course, I do, sugar.”

Wanda wants to stop there, but she doesn’t, pushing further.  “You’re…you’re in love with me, aren’t you?”

At first, Agnes doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even move, just stands there with her hand on the edge of the door.  Then she glances over her shoulder at Wanda, and her blue eyes are so full and so broken that when she doesn’t say anything it says everything.  Her gaze drops.  “You should get some sleep, dear.  We’ve…we’ve got a rough day ahead of us, don’t we?”

The door shuts with a soft click, and Wanda collapses onto the bed, unable to stop herself from crying.

~

Wanda wakes the next morning in Agnes’s shirt – the one she’d lost, the one Agnes wore just before – surrounded with the scent of cinnamon, vanilla, and apples.  She sits upright in her bed, runs her hand along the shirt, stares at it, scans the room for her dress and can’t find it anywhere, and she breathes fast, so fast, head throbbing with the lingering effects of the alcohol she’d had, anxiety clawing at her throat, the tiger finally springing—

When she opens the spare bedroom door, Wanda smells something like oatmeal cooking, and she scurries down the stairs, bare feet slipping on the hardwood floor just enough that she clings to the stair rail to keep herself upright.

But she doesn’t need to make it to the kitchen – the other woman sits on her corner of the couch, a mug of tea in one hand, one finger twisting in the air as the spoon in the mug slowly, magically stirs clockwise.  She pauses, takes a sip of the tea, and then glances up, meets Wanda’s bright green eyes with her paralyzing bright blue ones, that sparkle of mischief dark in them as she smiles somberly up at her.

“I wondered how long you would sleep, buttercup, but it seems you recover from being drunk quite like I do.”

“Agnes—”

But she holds up a hand, stopping her.  “Let me correct you before you hurt yourself, hon.” One corner of her lips quirks up, smug. “It’s Agatha, and it’s just such a pleasure to finally be seeing you again.”

#bandit fic #kisses through the decades with wanda and agatha #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #agatha harkness #wagatha #wandagatha #harximoff #wanda x agatha #agatha x wanda #mcu #wandavision

[xalygatorx]

Powerless (2017) | Chapter 14, "Eyes So Cruel"

Years after Sarah’s wit and bravery saved her brother and brought the Labyrinth to its knees, her daughter Andie is transported to what remains of that same fantastical place, somewhere she thought only existed in her favorite childhood stories. To find her way back home, she must traverse what’s left of the crumbling kingdom, find a way to set both moments and magic in motion again, and even save the Goblin King, himself. But who will save her from him?

Powerless is a SFW slow-burn romance between Jareth and an original female character. The story overall contains descriptions of fantasy violence, mild suggestive content, and grief regarding family illness. Chapter-by-chapter warnings will be provided as well.

Summary: Nyle suggests what he sees as Andie’s only out. Jareth and Andie are separated from the others as they make it to the throne room. As Andie comes close to fixing the clock, Jareth makes a decision. Andie wonders if she can truly do whatever she has to in order to get back to her mother.

Pairing: Jareth x Fem!OC

Warnings: Description of Andie finding her mother after her fall in a flashback

Word Count: 3.6k

Andie's features tightened with horror. "I can't kill anyone."

Nyle shrugged. "I can hardly imagine you will have much choice, given the circumstances. If you wish to save yourself, that is."

"Elaborate...please."

"Considering you get your opportunity before the clock is fixed—and the clock will be fixed—and magic and time returning put him back to full power, any act that did not completely incapacitate him would result in more deeply fueled rage and little else. He would just try harder, despite his kingdom not yet being what it was."

"And if my opportunity wouldn't come until after?" she asked warily. "Hypothetically speaking."

He shook his head solemnly. "I'm not sure that there would be an opportunity after. At full power…" Nyle paused and weighed his words. "He is more than formidable. With what you have at your disposal, you wouldn't stand a chance."

She clenched her jaw faintly and murmured tonelessly, "And you're sure it's the only way?"

"To my knowledge, yes. Though, I advise you not to feel too terribly about it," Nyle reasoned. "You would only be doing to him what he will do to you if you don't."

"If that was supposed to help, it didn't," Andie murmured.

"The truth rarely helps. At least, in obvious ways. Just don't let your chance slip through your fingers if you are unprepared to face the consequences."

"Got it," she replied to get him to stop talking about it, feeling sick to her stomach. Nyle seemed to notice this and quit the subject entirely, continuing on their way in silence. He eventually left her to her own company when he fell back to retrieve Didymus and Ambrosius from wherever they'd wandered off to in pursuit of a scent trail and she heard him calling after the two and receiving snarky remarks—and barks—from both whenever their skills were questioned. She noticed that the sounds faded in volume after some time, but only thought to turn when she didn't hear them at all. Jareth was still back there, but the others were gone. "Um… Where'd everyone go?"

Jareth glanced up as if jarred from deep thought before looking over his shoulder as well. "I've not the slightest idea."

"Should we go back and look for them?" she asked uncertainly.

His lips thinned into a tight line before he allowed, "Call for them first. This place is designed to throw those inside off course… That may be what happened."

"That easily?"

"It's very possible." Jareth glanced ahead. "I simply hope it was not us that turned astray."

Andie sighed. "I should've been sketching a map or something."

"It would not have helped," Jareth reasoned. "Just like the Labyrinth, these halls have all manners of turns and deceptions."

"Of course they do…," she said dismally before calling for their colleagues. "Nyle! Sir Didymus? Ambrosius!"

"You're calling the dog?" he asked dubiously.

"Dogs have great hearing, it was worth a shot…"

He stared at her before nodding once. "Fair enough." They both listened and heard nothing in response, and after a moment, Jareth said, "I would personally continue on."

"Of course you would," Andie mumbled.

His eyes narrowed. "Not for the reasons you assume. At least, not this time."

"Then why?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

"Because tracking them down here is impossible with what we have now," Jareth sighed. "If we succeed in setting time back in motion and returning the magic of this world, finding them will be easy. As is, we will only get ourselves lost if we've not gotten lost already."

"And if we have?" Andie wondered.

He shrugged. "There's nowhere to go but onward."

She looked at him and measured their options before nodding her head. "Okay. Let's go."

Jareth continued to follow along behind her, but at a much shorter distance so it was less likely they'd be separated. Andie kept hearing Nyle's warnings in her head as if they were etched upon a broken record and she was beginning to send herself into a quiet panic. She didn't want to kill anyone, much less hurt anyone, but she also wanted to leave. She had no idea what would happen to her if she stayed after she and Jareth were no longer on a level playing field of power. She had no idea what he was truly capable of. And, on some level, she had no idea what she was capable of, herself.

Her eyes fell to the dagger fastened to her hip, chewing her lower lip nervously. Maybe if she just nicked him, distracted him long enough to get away… But where would she go? How was she to miraculously know the way out of there unless the return of magic sent her away automatically, since she had served her purpose and was no longer needed in the Labyrinth? What if this wasn't her purpose for being here? What if there was no purpose at all, if it was just some disastrous mistake? She had so many uncertainties, but there was only one thing that rang true again and again: she had to be there for her family.

Just when Andie was starting to wonder if they were, indeed, lost within the mirrored tunnels, she heard a boom of thunder and glanced nervously around the cavern, afraid the noise might disturb the numerous glass panes adorning the walls around them. "Sounds like the storm is getting worse…," she murmured dismally before realizing that she'd heard a sound from outside. "Wait a second…"

She looked back at Jareth, who seemed eager with relief as another crash of thunder sounded and they both ran toward the sound before it could fade, using it like a compass. When they reached another hatch that mirrored the one they had first entered through—though this one was split down the middle—Andie felt an enormous amount of stress leave her frame. Andie braced her shoulder against one of the hatch doors and pushed with all her might, just hoping this entrance wasn't buried beneath castle ruin as well. When it began to give, she was encouraged to try harder. "Well?! Help or something!" she snapped when Jareth stood there and watched her progress.

"Ah, quite," he murmured sheepishly before walking over and shoving the door alongside her. The second time they combined strength, they were able to swing the door free, the great iron hatch half falling open with an echoing metallic boom. As soon as it did, the storm filtered into the tunnel.

It was in the early stages—it looked as if it had rained while they were navigating the tunnels, the stones of the throne room outside shiny and slick—but the air was charged with electricity and the promise of more to come. She could see the clock exactly as she'd left it across the space, looking eerie and old in the ancient ruins and the dusky light that was the calm before the storm. Everything was much too still.

"Come on," Jareth ordered decidedly as he slipped past her to exit the tunnel, his eyes roving over the decrepit place he'd once called home. How it had fallen after his departure… After her departure. It almost pained him to see how far this place had fallen and to remember how far he'd fallen with it.

Andie followed begrudgingly, her heart pounding furiously as she rushed toward a decision of what she would do. She looked at him while he had his back turned to her, as he peered around his throne room in shambles and looked older to her all over again. He was the strangest, most peculiar man she'd ever met and she was afraid of being destroyed by him. She was a brave individual, near-fearless apart from the things everyone was naturally afraid of. But, in this moment, this one man was everything she'd ever feared because she was near certain he would break her heart before this was all over.

She'd unconsciously stopped near the center of the pit before the Goblin King's throne, where he'd wandered, his gloved hand roving along the curved backing. She'd sat in that throne briefly while there the last time and she almost smirked at the look that might cross his face had he known. 

The silver scepter glittered on his hip and caught her eye. She still was not sure what had compelled her to take that with her and give it to him. Fetching like a dog, she supposed spitefully. Her insides felt iced over and shaky and she no longer knew who had better gotten into her head between Jareth, Nyle, and her own uncertainties. Everything they'd shown her—Jareth's wrath and Nyle's manipulation—had been amplified by doubt. She felt as if she could break.

"What are you waiting for?" he wondered from the throne as she came back to reality, his voice sounding a bit tight.

Andie hesitated. "I… I don't really know, I suppose," she murmured, swinging the backpack around to get the parts of the clock out, though she still had no idea where the arm was. She figured the clock would at least function without it and they could find it later.

"Did you not hear me?" he asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"I heard you already, I'm fixing the damn clock."

"You clearly didn't hear me because I said to approach me," Jareth retorted calmly, eyes following her closely.

Andie's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"To bow down to your king, of course," Jareth chuckled, leaning back and lazily sprawling in his curved throne like the arrogant monarch he was.

"You're impossible," she muttered as he laughed, wondering what was causing his rampant mood swings. Must be his pompous way of celebrating his soon-return to power and avoid thanking her for her help because she had helped, whether he admitted it or not. He'd still be down in that oubliette if she hadn't, well…fallen into it, but still. He owed her. It seemed as though he had no recognition of that fact, however, and he'd said her king, which meant, even subconsciously, he was anticipating ruling over her. Maybe even caging her if he didn’t just kill her outright. This all but confirmed her fears and sent a weird chill through her frame.

Grumbling to cover up her anxiety, she moved toward the clock beside the throne, looking over the inside to make sure it was as she remembered. Andie dug out the drawstring pouch with the cogs in it and gently dumped them into her hand after loosening the bag, replacing it in the backpack she'd set on the ground. "I feel like I should not be doing it like this," she murmured as she stuck three of the cogs in her pocket and started with the biggest one, carefully wedging it into place. It fit with a click and she reached back into her pocket for the next largest piece.

Jareth watched her progress from his throne, his features passive and unreadable. His gaze only shifted when thunder boomed once more, closer this time. Dark clouds roiled in the sky above the fragmented ceiling, lightning igniting and flooding the throne room with pure light. Andie looked up at the flash, swearing quietly when it started raining on them. Jareth watched as rain soaked down from the openings in the domed roof, wetting the room once more. Water bounced off his leather pants and boots, absorbed into his cotton shirt, and rolled off his vest and gloves. His eyes roved over to Andie, whose shirt was now soaked—not that he minded—and who was now pushing dampened hair out of her face as she continued to try to work in the rain shower, which would soon, he thought, become a downpour.

If there were ever a time to strike, he thought, it would be now.

• • •

Four days prior to that fateful night when the crystal peach had whisked her away into the Kingdom of Whence, into the Underground, Andie had knocked on her parents' front door and waited silently outside for an answer. She'd just come to pick up some fresh vegetables from the garden her dad tended outside and, after a couple of moments of no response, she backed up down the steps to peer around at the garage. Her dad's car was gone, but her mom's was still there… Maybe they'd gone out together.

She walked back up the steps to the door and tried the knob, finding that it didn't give, which confirmed her assumption that her parents had gone out on an errand or something to that effect. She was honestly glad her mom was getting out of the house and let herself hope that what she'd thought she'd seen just a few days ago was just her overly prepared mind jumping to conclusions.

The instance coming to mind was when Andie had been over just a few days before to do laundry and had taken over laundry duty for her parents as well as a thank-you for letting her use their washer and dryer once again. She'd been passing by her parents' bedroom door when she'd heard her mother's voice through the gap from the jamb. She'd paused and listened, making sure Sarah hadn't been calling for her after hearing her go by. "I need you," came her mother's voice again in a sad, pleading tone. She'd also said something before that, but Andie hadn't been able to make it out, thinking it sounded like a strange "H"-name or something to that effect.

Deciding she must've been talking to her, Andie had gently nudged the door open and was surprised to find her mother sitting at her vanity, staring into her mirror, her fingertips gently brushing the glass. When Andie's eyes fell to Sarah's hands, she'd noticed the faint tremor moving through the limbs and her gaze dipped back up to her mother's fretful face before she said softly, "Mom?"

Sarah had startled a little and immediately turned, withdrawing her hands and folding them in her lap as she turned, something she'd been doing more of lately, Andie realized somberly. "Oh, I'm sorry, sweets. Did you need something?"

Andie hesitated before playing it off for her benefit. "Have any laundry to contribute?"

"Oh, no, but thanks for checking. And thanks for taking care of it, I appreciate it," Sarah had replied with one of her gentle smiles, though it lacked its usual brightness. Andie had nodded and hesitated one more moment, which had caught Sarah's attention. "Are you sure that was what you wanted to ask me?"

The youngest of Sarah's children had forced a small smile and nodded. "Yeah. I love you, Mom."

The smile had been much more genuine that time. "I love you, too."

Andie dug into her purse and pulled out her keys, which had somehow worked their way down to the dark abyss that was the bottom of her bag in the couple of minutes after she'd thrown them in there. She slid the correct key into the lock and turned it until the lock popped back and the knob turned; she pushed it open gently and closed it behind her, twirling her keys around her finger since she'd need them in just a moment.

She inhaled deeply of the familiar cinnamon-apple scent wafting through the house and blew out a breath, smiling as she walked to the kitchen and placed the reusable bag she had brought with her on the counter, starting to load the separate plastic bags of produce into it when she could have sworn she heard something.

Her smile faded as she paused in her packing, listening for any other noises to confirm what she'd thought, but when nothing else came, she disregarded her brain's probable trick and continued, only to be distracted by what was definitely a sound a moment later. Thinking of her mother's car in the garage, she inquired, "Mom? You home?"

When she heard a whimper from the staircase, she dropped the container of zucchini she'd been holding and ran toward the steps, taking them two at a time until she got to the turn and found her mom sprawled as if her feet had simply given out from under her. Immediately defaulting into her first-aid training, she'd checked her over as carefully as possible, her cell phone pinned between her ear and her shoulder as she spoke to the 911 dispatcher as calmly as possible.

More than anything when she recalled that crucial moment, she remembered the time days before when she'd had an inkling that something might be wrong and she dwelt on the dependent look in her mother's eyes as she'd looked up at Andie from her position on the stairs. Her strong, delightful mother, her rock, looking at her with the very eyes she'd given her and depending on Andie to save her.

Thunder cracked and lightning split the sky above, rain pelting down as Andie fastened in the second to last gear into the mechanism, having to press it harder than the others to get it to fit into the proper grooves. She heard Jareth climb off his throne to check her progress, she assumed, her mind still muddled with nervousness and the possible outcomes she was faced with from just one choice. She didn't like being backed into a corner with a solely this-or-that decision. She liked lots of options. However, that didn't seem to be the case this time. She wondered if he sensed her unease.

The curve of the roof barely shielded her from the angle of the rain and, though she was still being hit with the countless droplets of moisture, it wasn't as much as she would be standing elsewhere in the room. She stood very close to the clock to minimize the amount of rain that soaked her, still digging in her pocket for the last cog when she felt his hand wrap around her arm and halt her search. 

This is it, she thought, weak with anxiety as she glanced up and let him turn her to face him.

Andie stared at him silently as he seemed to war with himself, though he—at the very least—didn't seem murderous or even angry. He seemed conflicted at best. "Is something wrong?"

His mismatched eyes leveled with hers and he contemplated her silently, which was when she finally noticed what seemed so off about him—he was wary. As he remained still, she thought of the final cog nestled somewhere in her pocket, thought of what it meant for him and for his kingdom. What it meant for her. It would seal her fate and make it exponentially more difficult for her to leave. The dagger on her hip suddenly felt ten times as heavy.

When he still hadn't spoken, she murmured, "If you're going to—"

Seeming to be admitting this as much to her as to himself, he said, "My wish has lessened for a kingdom, for power, for rule. More than all that now, I’d like to be the one to place the sky in your eyes."

Her mind tried to wrap around his odd turn of phrase and she found herself perplexed by the words, at least until she felt his hand drop from her arm only so he could slide off one of his black leather gloves for the first time since she'd met him. 

Oh, no, she reacted mentally, the rest of her soundless and tense. However, he did the last thing she'd expected him to do in that moment, his hand moving toward her cheek and gently skimming his fingertips over her skin, following the sharp line of her jaw and sending chemical electricity shooting through her frame down to her toes. Her mouth felt dry as he gently smoothed the pad of his thumb against her rain-wetted lower lip. Jareth finally leaned in and brushed his lips against hers with great care, still holding her chin between his thumb and index finger.

The rain was forgotten even as it poured amidst the lightning and thunder that managed to send actual tremors through the atmosphere, she hesitated before yielding to the kiss and then returning it at last. Yet, in her hand rested the dagger, drawn from her side after he'd removed his glove, but before his intentions were clear.

"He's not going to let you leave, you know."

Andie's fingers flexed around the weapon's hilt. It hung in her tight grip at her side, and she tried to goad herself into pushing past the feelings he sewed in her. Could she do that? Would she? To get back to her family? To her mom? Wouldn't she do anything to be there for her? Couldn't she see through this one ethereal man's façade, his temporary affections if they weren’t just entirely manipulative, and his pretty words following a cold truth that had come through much earlier on?

"Well, I am through with you, little girl!"

He likely was. It would not surprise her if he saw through her and the entirety of what she'd tried to hide. That she was her mother's daughter, there by some random act of happenstance, not by destiny or motive. That she was afraid and knew nothing apart from her mom's stories about what the Labyrinth could become, and Sarah had only seen a portion of its oddities. She had also seen it intact and not as this strange, broken puzzle of a landscape with a rioting sky. 

She'd found him in the darkness and had been his ticket out. He would not return that favor. She couldn't imagine that he truly cared for her at all. This was another game.

"It does not last. Trust me."

One she couldn't afford to lose.

Next chapter: Chapter 15, "I Wish"

#labyrinth #labyrinth fanfiction #labyrinth fanfic #jareth x oc #jareth the goblin king #jareth #slow burn #angst with a happy ending #the labyrinth #romance fanfiction

[kausstar]

i know if i am haunting you, you must be haunting me !

☆ 𝓡AFE 𝓒AMERON x f! reader￨nsfw content￨wc: 2.1k lı|lı|l haunted — beyoncé.

normally, rafe has no problem getting over exs. didn’t matter if he had to drown himself in lines or take shot after shot, he would get over it. but you were intoxicating. smelled better than any drug he’d sniffed, tasted better than any liquor that he swallowed, looked prettier than any girl he could fucking lay his eyes on.

fic tags porn w plot. black reader in mind but anyone can read, mwah! swearing. threatening (some rando guy). obsessive! rafe (makes him like 10 times yummier). talks of doing drugs. lots of kissing. the sloppy, nasty, needy shit. pussy eating. praise kink. light choking. manhandling. over stimulation.

𝓴aus. wanted to write something that screamed the definition of passionate sex n’ i am needy for some him soooo here we are. haven’t written anything like this in a while so forgive me if it’s bad :((

“damn.” rafe ran his fingers throw his hair, fingers pulling at his roots making him wince at the tug. his eyes were foggy as he looked around the living room filled with people he didn’t want to see. none of them were you. he knew you were here, you and sarah were still friends regardless of the break up but he just couldn’t find the balls to get off this fucking couch.

he came to forget everything that had happened these last couple weeks with his dad and the argument he had with you but no matter how many lines of cocaine he did, his mind just wouldn’t let up. truly, he wasn’t having a good time.

he blamed himself for the argument that ruined your relationship and it was really getting to him— more than he expected. he was so stressed with his dad’s bullshit he couldn’t see you. how good you were to him. how patient you were with him. how important you were to him. the things he would do to keep you his were…unhealthy, to say the least, and for him to completely forget that made him sick.

in irritation, he bites the inside of his mouth and stands from the couch, throwing down the $20 bill he’d been sniffing coke through. he moves his way around the couch’s and chairs in the living room, eyes searching for either you or someone who he knew who would know where to find you. “hey, rafe!” “rafe!” “yo, rafe,” was all his heard walking through the crowd but he hadn’t heard that voice— your voice.

he spotted someone, someone he wasn’t particularly fond of, but he knew you. rafe isn’t hesitant to grab topper’s shoulder and turn him to face him. topper’s face is filled with confusion and irritation until he realizes who it is. before topper can speak, rafe does.

“where is she?” topper’s eyes squint with confusion. he’d known what happened between him and you so he already knew who rafe was asking for. he shakes his head at rafe. “i don’t know. come on, rafe. she’s not-” rafe quickly removes his hand from topper’s shoulder and throws his hand up at him. “shut the fuck up. if you don’t know then just- just shut the fuck up,” he says before stumbling back into the crowd, not caring to wait on topper’s reply.

he decides to walk towards the back yard pool area, you always liked to be a bathing suit. you always looked pretty in the ones he picked out too. he groaned at the thought of you in one without his arm wrapped around your waist, kissing her lips. as soon as he’s about to start walking a little faster towards the back of the house, he spots you, some guys hands sliding down your sides in the bathing suit he bought.

he moves through the crowd, not caring for anyone in his way or the groans and cursing he hears from irritated people. once he makes it to you and he’s in your line of sight, he sees nothing but worry flash over your face. he doesn’t study it for too long though, too focused on the unwanted energy standing behind you. “touch her like that again and i’ll gut you,” his voice is steady for the first time that night. the guy is quick to raise his hands and move away from the two of you.

rafe doesn’t look away until he’s out of his line of sight. “don’t worry about that. what’s wrong, rafe?” your voice and the light pull from your hands on his face redirecting him to look at you. oh, that pretty face he missed. he’s almost dazed at the looks of you. he forgets for a second your question and you go to ask again but he opens his mouth.

“wanna apologize,” his sentence is breathy, his hand trailing up your throat to your face. your soft skin never feeling so nice underneath his hands. you shake your head, “it’s fine. i know you were stressed-” this time, he shakes his. “yeah, yeah. but you didn’t deserve that. wanna make it up to you.” before you can reply, his lips are on yours, his hand holding your face making sure you don’t pull away from him.

the kiss is soft but sloppy and needy. his tongue playing recklessly with yours. you moan into the kiss, head slightly going foggy. “rafe… baby,” you plead into the kiss, trying to get him to stop just for a bit but your pleads aren’t enough. it isn’t until you pull at the wrist of the hand that held your face that he pulled away. with the both of you breathless, he grins down at you, thumb running over your spit covered lips.

“let’s go upstairs,” you lightly smile back, thumbs rubbing the side burns of his messy hair. he nods before you pull his hand from your face and guide him through the crowd to the stairs. he follows behind you, hungry eyes watching your every move. upstairs, you walk to his room and once you’re inside he shuts the door behind the two of you. he’s quick to pull you into him, lips greedily latching onto yours.

his kisses are breathless leaving your lungs haunted. but no matter how hard it gets to breath, you kiss him deeper and tug the hair at the nip of his neck to pull him closer. he doesn’t miss the hunger in your kiss and begins to slowly back you up towards the bed until you’re at the foot of it. he wastes no time to remove his shirt, breaking the kiss to do so but he doesn’t let your lips be apart long, connecting back with you after the shirt is thrown elsewhere.

you aren’t shy about pulling at the waist of this black shorts and he chuckles into the kiss at the gesture. he goes for the buttons on them before stripping from them entirely. “get on the bed, baby,” he whispers onto your lips, giving you a quick peck before pulling away completely. you do as your asked and he follows suit right behind you. he meets you on the bed with a passionate kiss that leads down to your neck. the kisses are open mouthed and sloppy, so sloppy it leaves you with cold ones.

“lift,” he says, asking you to lift your upper half so he can take off your top. you sit yourself up, allowing him to untie it and pull the top from your chest. your breast now exposed to the cold air and before you can whine about being cold, his warm mouth is wrapped your left nipple making you gasp. “rafe,” you whine out, hand on the back of his head as you feel his tongue swirl around your nipple.

he sucks on it lightly- even gives it a good ‘pop’ before going to the other. you lightly moan as he runs his tongue over the other, sucking on it lightly soon after. he then replaces it with kisses, kisses that soon trail down your stomach stopping right above your bikini bottoms. he runs his finger up and down your folds through them, making the wet spot, in the thin fabric, bigger.

“i make you this wet, huh?” he asks, fat grin on his face. he doesn’t expect an answer, just wants to hear that pathetic whine that you always let out when he teases you about soaking your panties. you give him exactly what he wants too, letting out a little whine that makes his dick leak pre-cum.

he doesn’t tease you any longer— mostly because he needs a taste of you before he cums in his pants just from the needy look your giving him. after pulling them off, he hooks his arms under your legs and dips his tongue inside, tasting you on his tongue. he hums at how sweet you taste and swirls his tongue around your clit. your clit hardens under the stimulant of his tongue and your legs open wider, giving him more access to you.

moans escape your mouth as his tongue travels down to your dripping hole. he dips the tip inside, fucking your pussy with his tongue. the lower half of his face soaked as he continues to push his face into your wet pussy. his nose brushing your clit every now and then making your eyes roll into the back of your head. “hmmp… m’ gonna cum, baby,” you pant as this tight feeling continues to build in the small of stomach. “cum,” he demands, words muffled by your pussy.

again, you do as asked and your orgasm rushes over you. you cum all over his mouth and face, eyes watering from his intense it was. rafe doesn’t care too much about that though. he removes his tongue from inside you but continues to lap profusely at your pussy. your folds, clit, inner lips… everything. so much, it has you whining and trying to get out of his grasp but he won’t let that happen of course.

“come on, baby. just wanna clean you up,” he claims, before pulling you towards his mouth by your hips. without much of a choose, you allow him to run his tongue over your sensitive areas until he felt it was enough, which felt like eternity. but when he finally lets up, he comes up to kiss you and allows you to taste yourself on his tongue. “please, fuck me,” you whimper into the kiss.

he pulls away, grinning lightly down at you. “you’re so pretty when you beg,” he says before taking down your boxers, exposing his leaking dick. his tip a pretty shade of pink, almost your favorite shade. he runs just the tip through your folds, his pre-cum mixing with your cum. the tip of his dick ever so slightly getting snagged on your clit making you moan.

it doesn’t take him long to line himself up with you and slide himself into your warm, sticky walls. he lets out a delicious sounding groan as he did so- your own sound of pleasure following shortly behind his. his hips slowly inch towards the back of your thighs as he pushes each inch of his dick inside of you. you moan out as he pumps you full, arms wrapped around his back.

he can feel your pussy squeeze and clench for him, pulling him in just like the way your eyes beg him to kiss you. he does as both of you ask, kissing your lips deeply as he draws his hips back and forth just the way he knows you like it. deep and fast. he moves one of his hands from the bed sheets to your face and as his lips moves his hands do too.

while he’s kissing your lips, his hand stays resting on your jaw but when he’s kissing your neck, his hand are wrapped around it lightly, just enough to feel your pussy become wetter at his touch. soon, he pulls away from your neck and switches his attention back to your lips but he doesn’t kiss you just let. “i’ll give you anything. anything you want,” he promises, lips ghosting over yours, your breath brushing over each others face.

you could only let out a whine in response to his words, brain too foggy. the room is filled with sloppy sounds of the two of you meeting. the squelching sounds of your pussy taking every thrust he gives you makes his dick leak inside of you. that, with you panting underneath him, the smell and taste of you consuming his senses. he’s damn near close to cuming in you. “god,” he moans, “think i’m gonna cum, baby.”

his hand loosens from your throat and you stutter out a reply. “m-me too,” you call out, holding onto him tighter. his pace stays constant, he doesn’t let it slow or stutter until the last minute until he’s emptying himself inside of you. you cum first, holding onto him tightly as your pussy clenches and squeezes around him, almost motivating him to spill himself inside. shortly behind, he cums with a groan, eyes closed, hips slowed.

after minutes of catching your breath, he brings you into a lovely and longing kiss before snapping his hips into you so you take all of him. your moan into the kiss is cut short because of his reckless movements. “i missed you,” you whisper, breathless, against his lips. “i missed you to death,” he lightly laugh almost as if he doesn’t believe how true it is as he pulls away from you. you lightly laugh at him.

𝓮𝓷𝓭   2024 kausstar.

ignore the ending… please. thirsts are still open 4 him. mwah!

#⋆ 𐙚 ₊ ˚ star #⟡ drew starkey. #main note to myself while i was writing this was make it sloppy and wet #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe concepts #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron concepts #smut #outerbanks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x smut

[sladetgx57-blog]

The recruits are talking on the flight deck as the door slams open, the Sentinel walks out as she then shouts. "Attention!"

Everyone quickly goes silent, as she looks them all over before continuing.

"I don't like repeating myself so you all listen up my name is Ryder, Sarah Ryder but if you have any sanity. You will refer to me as Sentinel Ryder, or Ma'am nothing more nothing less do I make myself clear!"

The recruits all shout a yes Ma'am and line up side by side at attention, she nods in agreement, before walking across the catwalk as she begins.

"Good welcome aboard the Prydwen now before I begin, I want to make one thing crystal clear. Who you were on the ground doesn't mean a feral's shit up here it stays down below. For up here you are recruits, no lower then recruits you are Initiates until I see otherwise. And Its to that which you follow our orders, efficiently and without delay anyone who doesn't answers to me."

She maintains her commanding posture her voice as loud and sharp, as a knife as she continues her thoughts.

"And another thing if you thought we were going to set you up, with a suit of shiny power armor and set you loose. Then you are dead wrong you will not touch, or even smell a suit of power armor unless I deem it so. To become a member of the BOS takes strength and high discipline, as well as dedication which I currently don't see in any of you, there is no half ass work done here that mindset. Will quickly get your fellow comrades hurt or worse, this will not happen on my watch if you are in then you are in all the way or not at all."

She walks down the stairs as they all back away from her, to which she then places her hands on the rail before speaking.

"Your training will be with me and it will be no cakewalk, it will be rigorous it will be unforgiving. It may very well be the hardest thing you've ever done, for I run a tight ship.You will eat where I tell you sleep where I tell you, and wear what I tell you. Because of this many of you will not agree, many of you will not like me but I could care less.

She sees a recruit resting his hand on the rail to which she draws, her pistol and fires two warning shots scaring them as she speaks. "Those were warning shots Initiate pray I don't catch you, sleeping on my watch again". She holsters her side arm before looking out, to the rest of them as she continues.

" As I was saying you all won't like me and some of you may even fear me, good because you will draw on that fear and turn it into strength while under my command. I have but one goal I am going to break you, each and everyone of you. I'm going to beat your spirit into the dirt, and if you can't handle that and persevere.Then you can get on that Vertibird right now because I don't fail at my goal. However those of you who can stomach it, and who can endure my training showing me you can go the distance I will rebuild your broken selfs, into the finest soldiers this Brotherhood has ever seen."

She walks back up the stairs her stride powerful and strong, as she then turns to face them as she finishes. "I will not succeed not with all of you, for some of you can't or won't make it. But I respect each and everyone of you, takes guts to come up here. So show me what you all are made of prove me wrong and you will go far, now report to the barracks for your requisition of uniforms dismissed.

#fallout sole survivor #fallout 4 stories #fallout #fallout fanfic #fallout 4 #fallout 4 fanfic #fallout 4 sarah ryder #fallout 4 story #awesome #like #comment #amazing

[loveinstreams]

the dancing scene in Love Streams makes me go fucking insane because at this point in the movie we dont know the nature of robert and sarah’s relationship so all we see are the actors portraying them and here is a woman standing in a half-lit doorway and here is a drunk man listening to music in a dark room. and here are two people dancing like lovers in their living room......

#for a moment its like the movie stopped and all that’s left for us to see are two figures dancing #we can barely make out their silhouette as they spin blurring the lines between reality fiction and character. #until sarah speaks and the line turns on again. #anyway. im hhhhhhh fine #love streams #john cassavetes