#so like. if i trigger an episode and do something with the living room | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lay-z · 6 months ago

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Kinda kinky, but made it domestic and fluffy. (I guess, idk...) Also, very long for some reason, sorry. MINORS, DNI! 18+ !!! Pairing: F!Reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley Warnings/Info: Established relationship; domesticity; fluff; consensual smut; masturbation kink; praise kink; some dirty talk; explicit language; cussing

It's Friday evening, barely past 8 pm, inside your apartment in the private 141 apartment complex on base.

After a late dinner – homemade lasagna with fresh ingredients, because you always thrive to get something proper other than MRE's into Simon's and your own system – you and your boyfriend are sprawled out on your large deep brown leather couch.

Cuddling, resting, and relaxing after a tough week of training and "important" briefings on duty.

The atmosphere is filled with contentment and coziness, while the delicious smell of lasagna and the fresh shower steam wafting into the open living space from the nearby bathroom, still linger in your shared apartment. The lights are off, except for the vanilla-scented candle you’ve lit on the white sideboard and the flickering lights of the TV screen illuminating the spacious room.

With the both of you now suffering from a food coma, Simon is laying on his broad back, taking up nearly all of the couches’ space. One muscular arm tucked behind his head on the armrest casually, the other hand playing with a few strands of your hair on the back of your head, his eyes half-lidded and glued to the large flat TV mounted on the opposite wall, currently playing the first episode of Band of Brothers, after you two had finally settled on something to watch – something you'd both enjoy.

Meanwhile, you're laying between his spread thighs, draped over him with your cheek resting on his lower stomach, your right hand rubbing slow, soothing circles over his lax abs with your flat palm and tracing the many faded scars while his tight black shirt is rucked up to his chest; his belly now slightly round and full, sporting a food baby, and thus not as hard and ripped as it usually is.

You can hear his stomach work as your ear presses against his pale skin, his gut already processing the food and sounding like a bunch of whale calls while his strong heartbeat fades into the background noise like a steady drum. It's an odd concoction of sounds, and you swiftly find yourself paying more attention to your boyfriend's bodily functions than your favorite war show playing on TV.

"What's so funny, eh? We're laughin’ at WWII now?" Simon asks eventually after your second quiet snicker to yourself, his deep voice sounding gruff and heavy with beginning fatigue, though it still carries that familiar dry, deadpan humor of his.

"Nope. Nothing," you reply with another breathy chuckle, patting and caressing his lower abdomen reassuringly. Perhaps a little bit too close to his crotch this time.

The sudden movement makes his muscles flex below your palm, and a low groan escapes Simon's slightly parted lips and both actions immediately trigger something within you, like a house cat being taunted by its owner moving their hand below a blanket.

"Don't... don't do that, luv," he chides you gently, cupping his free hand over yours to keep it still on his stomach, "Gimme another good thirty minutes, and I'll rock yer world." Simon tells you, stifling a yawn.

While he keeps your ministrations at bay with his mammoth hand, you prop yourself up on your other elbow with a small pout before you wordlessly begin peppering wet and hot kisses along his belly, down to his naval and lower abdomen, inhaling his masculine scent greedily while your nose nearly digs into his milky, scarred skin.

"Bloody hell, lass – don't, I –" Simon protests half-heartedly, sucking in a sharp breath, before another low groan slips past his lips as he shifts his body beneath you.

"Watch the damn TV and let me do my thing.” You mutter against his skin, though there is no bite behind your words, only teasing and affection – and burning determination. You two didn’t have any time nor strength for sex all week and you suddenly feel like making up for it now.

A low grumble vibrates in his chest in return and you know he wants to object again, but then he doesn't, because Simon is low-key just as horny as you are – he was just trying to be mindful, thinking you’re too tired to engage in anything sexual with him tonight.

"Always so goddamn bossy when we're alone," he mutters instead, clicking his tongue in mock exasperation, though a small smirk tugs at the corner of his scarred mouth.

“C’mere then, lovey,” he murmurs in his deep, gravelly voice, swiftly pulling his black T-shirt over his head and letting it fall down on the fluffy carpet next to the couch haphazardly, before he audibly pats his now bared chest in silent command with the hand that was previously tucked behind his head.

He needs to feel your lips on his first; ease in to this slowly before he might come too quickly; it’s been a week after all and Simon is only now realizing how tight his balls are.

However, you shake your head with a cheeky smirk, nuzzling the tip of your nose into the coarse dark hair of his thin happy trail, feeling his muscles flex at the sweet touch, before lifting your head to gaze up at him through your lashes.

“I wanna suck you off, baby. Can I?” You ask in a sultry purr, almost innocently, batting your eyelashes at him as you tug on the waistband of his grey sweats, pulling at it playfully before letting it snap back against his skin.

A rough groan escapes Simon as he watches you play with the thick hem of his pants and he already knows, despite his stamina, it will be a quick first round tonight; he’s way too sensitive and you know exactly what to do to drive him wild with lust. That familiar heat of arousal is already pooling into his gut and making his blood rush south.

“If I say no, what’re ye gonna do, hm?” He counters gruffly, biting back a sly smirk; his dark eyes fixated on yours, burning and molten and filled with desire and curiosity – because he rarely denies you anything, if ever.

“Maybe I’ll just do it myself,” he adds after a beat of silence, “Make myself feel good.”

Simon can practically watch how you process, assess, analyze his words in the span of mere seconds, but then your pupils dilate comically large, like a cartoon characters, and a foreign look appears on your face, one he’s never seen before. His heartbeat accelerates and he grunts lowly as you push yourself off his stomach to sit back on your haunches between his spread legs while the soft leather of the couch creaks and shifts as you move.

“Okay,” you retort in a breathy, deadpan voice, your eyes never leaving his, “I’ll watch.”

Simon instinctively shifts on the couch as well, propping his large upper body up in a reclined sitting position when he hears that you mean business. His dark eyebrows raise slightly at your unexpected reaction – the fact that his joke-proposition seems to excite you so immensely. His cock twitches and throbs inside his boxer briefs in return.

His eyes roam over your curves briefly, noticing how your braless breasts rise and fall with heavier yet slow breaths, nipples already peaking behind the fabric of your tight black crop top. You’re clearly aroused and Simon is sure he can smell you already, sweet, slick and warm and, most importantly, all his.

A pleased growl rumbles through his buff chest, until he remembers what exactly made you react this extremely.

"Yer into that?" He asks incredulously, brows drawing together in disbelief and curiosity, though if he's honest with himself, Simon is not surprised in the slightest.

You always encourage him to be more vocal in bed, make sounds, let loose. The dirtier, the better. Plus points if he sounds like a goddamn caveman claiming you; grunting and groaning in your ear while his fat cock is buried inside your tight cunt up to the hilt. You always love that.

"Yes," you answer curtly, squirming in your seat already. "I used to watch blokes jerk off and fuck their pocket pussies all the time on the Hub. Looked up the biggest, buffest lad and imagined you being the one doing it." You confess bluntly, a wicked smirk creeping on your lips as his big doe eyes grow even wider.

"Pff, seriously?"

Simon tries not to show it too obviously, but that is, hands down, the hottest and most flattering admission you've ever shared with him. Gods, he bloody loves your bluntness.

"Yes, sir." You nod enthusiastically while he snorts and rolls his eyes in mock annoyance.

You only ever call him Sir off duty when there's a deeper meaning behind it – a plan.

"So... you – you wanna see that, innit? Wanna watch me have a wank in front of you and look all pathetic while I could also just...fuck you properly instead?" Simon enquires with a hint of sarcasm, scratching the stubble at his chin as he studies your beautiful face appraisingly, still obviously hesitant about the whole idea.

"Uh-huh," You nod again, smiling at him with a certain twinkle in your eyes, like a child finally receiving a toy it always wanted but never dared to ask for. “Please.” You add for good measure, tilting your head to the side in a playful manner.

Simon quirks an eyebrow at you, his eyes flickering over your pretty features to make sure you're really not messing with him. He's never done that before; it has never occurred to him that anyone would want to see him do that.

Masturbating has always felt pathetic and awkward to him; it's a means to an end to him and especially those Combat Jack’s are the worst. Feel sad and horny, jerk off, feel sad and empty afterwards. Done deal.

But how can he ever deny you that particular pleasure when you've always been so good for him? So incredibly patient, caring, and loving despite all his flaws and issues; way before you've become a couple, even.

"Fine. I'll do it," he finally huffs gruffly, his own heart skipping a hard beat, his brows creasing together in a slight frown while he can't hide the obvious tent already sporting in the front of his sweatpants at the sight of your beaming smile and sparkling eyes after getting exactly what you want – again.

"But ye're not allowed to touch me...or yerself. Understood?"

Oh.

Your nostrils flare as you exhale sharply, drumming your fingertips along his clothed thighs as you narrow your eyes at him, pondering briefly.

"Yeah... okay... sounds like torture, but... the fun kind." You agree reluctantly, giving a small shrug, though you quickly notice that his strict order only fuels your growing arousal and excitement. It’ll be like watching your own personal porn after all.

Simon moves his knees then, a silent warning to get your hands off like you agreed to, and you retrieve your hands from his thighs with a tiny snarl that makes him chuckle darkly while you rest your palms on your own thighs instead.

“Be my good girl then and take yer top off, lovey. Show me yer pretty tits, yeah?”

Yet again, a violent shiver runs down your spine as soon as Simon gives you another order in that deep, gravelly voice of his and you don’t hesitate to obey his request – peeling off your tight crop top to reveal your breasts to him at once and dropping the piece of clothing next to the couch, your skin flushed with arousal and carnal desire for him.

“Like this?”

Simon hums deeply in approval, his pink tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, like a wolf licking its chaps, while his whiskey-colored eyes darken and gleam an inky black as they drink in your gorgeous, bare upper body, now only illuminated by the soft candlelight and the flickering lights of the TV screen, still playing Band of Brothers. You look like an absolute goddess and his fingers itch to reach out and touch, flick his thumbs over your perky nipples just the way you like it, squeeze and grope your tits until you mewl with neediness.

But, alas, he doesn’t.

“Aye, just like that,” he grunts out, shifting and adjusting his position until he’s comfortable on the couch and has a good view on you. “Bloody perfect, you minx.” He adds thickly in a low murmur.

And then, without a further word, Simon finally hooks his right thumb into the waistband of his sweats and boxer briefs and tugs both fabrics down until the stretchy waistbands are snug taut below his balls, right at his taint, adding some pressure to the sensitive spot. He grunts when his large cock springs free from its confinement and rests on his lower stomach, a droplet of pearly pre-cum leaking onto his dark happy trail from his blushing tip, making your mouth water on sight and a breath hitch in your throat.

The musky scent of his arousal hits your nose, and it takes all of your trained willpower not to pounce on him. No, this is special. You can't ruin it with your impatience.

There's a slight grimace on his ruggedly handsome face when he simply grabs his shaft, then his right mammoth hand wraps around his girth completely. It almost looks painful to you, but Simon bites his cheek and fights the immediate shudder of pleasure running down his spine at his own rough touch, giving himself a few slow, tight strokes.

"You're a dry guy?" You ask curiously, scrunching your nose up in surprise. You always use some kind of lube when you give him a nice hand job.

"Huh? Yeah?" Simon's eyes flicker from his throbbing cock to your eyes, then swiftly back again, shrugging his broad shoulders before stilling briefly, then he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

Great, now he feels like he's doing it wrong; something he's been doing to himself for years. It’s not his fault that his calloused hands cannot compare to your soft ones anymore and that you’ve completely spoiled him with your gentle yet firm touch; you’ve utterly ruined him for himself at this point.

“Mhm,” you hum appraisingly, practically buzzing with pent-up arousal as you squirm in your seat between his spread legs again and feel the fabric of your thong rub between your slick folds and against your pulsating clit in delicious torture.

“Spit in your fist, baby,” you advise him then, your own mouth filling with saliva at the sheer thought, completely self-conditioned, “Enjoy it for me. Relax.”

Simon nearly groans at your words, but suppresses the wanton sound again, all to your disapproval.

“Fuck –“ He grunts through clenched teeth, nostrils flaring as he's already crumbling beneath your smoldering gaze and bratty pout.

The urge to just pinch your pretty nipples in retaliation and grab you by the nape of your neck like a disobedient kitten, only to make your plump lips spread and open up over his needy cock, is becoming more unbearable by the second.

Eventually, Simon lifts his right hand, because he does want to put on a show for you, and spits into his rough palm generously.

The sudden choked whimper that spills from your lips at the lewd gesture of his makes it all worth it, tough, and Simon lets out a guttural moan this time, when he cups his leaking tip with his slicked up fist and twists his wrist for more friction.

“This good enough for you, luv?” He manages to ask in between guttural grunts and deep, deliberate breaths.

Meanwhile, you don’t even know where or what to look at as your feral eyes try to drink in and process this whole scene in front of you – his flushed cheeks, glazed eyes, how his abs and the muscles in his chest and arms ripple and flex with each heavy breath and movements, the way he works on his long, girthy cock for you. It’s still such a rare sight for you – seeing him this open and vulnerable.

If Simon would let you, you’d record and safe all of it for later.

“Yes,” you breathe out in return, voice hoarse and thick with lust and need, utterly captivated and amazed by his performance. “God, yes, baby. You look so fucking sexy right now.”

Your praise sends a jolt of hot, searing pleasure straight to his cock while Simon keeps fucking into his rough fist and his breath stutters briefly as he tries to maintain his fervent rhythm, muttering curses under his breath.

When his head lolls back against the armrest while a husky groan tears itself from his throat and his hips buck up into his own hand instinctively, right in front of you, you have to take several deep breaths to keep yourself seated on your haunches and, simultaneously, from reaching out to him – even though it’d be so easy to just…join him, perhaps fondle his balls and increase the pleasure.

Letting out another whimpery moan at the thought, your own fingers are now digging into the fabric of your gym leggings on your thighs, fidgeting and twitching restlessly while you move and roll your hips desperately, trying to find some release as your soaked thong keeps rubbing your swollen clit between your folds.

Simon can already feel how pathetically close he is and he knows it’s only because you’re watching him wank off right now, enjoying it – and praising him for it in that tooth-achingly sweet voice of yours, too.

It usually takes him so much longer to cum on his own, no matter how blue his balls are, but this is different – a good kind of different, and the tension in his lower stomach continues to rise at a rapid pace while he can barely hold eye-contact with your mesmerizing eyes when you’re looking at him like that, all aroused and needy with lust.

“’m close,” Simon huffs out, sounding like an angry bull as he bends one leg and puts the other foot down on the ground for leverage, readying himself for the inevitable.

“Play with yer tits for me, beautiful,” he requests through his clenched jaw as he watches you squirm through heavy-lidded eyes, “Help daddy come.”

“Oh…Fuck…” you practically gasp out as soon as you hear him calling himself that, and your head tilts back slowly with a breathy moan when your hands roam over your bare stomach sensually, up until they rest over your heavy breasts. You begin toying with yourself for him, groping and squeezing the supple flesh, tugging on your stiff nipples and rolling the sensitive buds between the pads of your fingers, until you’re panting for him like a bitch in heat.

While you’re playing with your tits like he asked you to, like the good, obedient girlfriend you are, Simon’s free hand finds its way slithering up his taut stomach, up his heaving chest, until it wraps around his own throat firmly, blunt nails digging into his scarred skin, tightening just enough to feel his own strong pulse flutter and thrum beneath his fingers, while he keeps stroking and fucking his cock into his tight fist with shameless vigor.

You and Simon moan simultaneously then – you at the sight of him choking himself suddenly, without warning, and he, because of all combined sensations bullying him to his peak all at once.

Eventually, his loud breathing keeps hitching, the vein in his temple protruding visibly as he keeps his grip around his throat, and your lips part with a wanton moan as you watch him climax, squeezing your tits harshly, as Simon’s balls tighten, eyes rolling back and fluttering shut and he finally comes with a guttural groan, spilling his thick, white release into his fist until it leaks and drips out from between his rough knuckles, making a mess on his lower belly.

“Fuckin’ hell, luv –“ Simon curses with a low chuckle, and swallows hard, still catching his breath as he releases his throat and lifts his head up from the armrest to look at you, feeling somewhat sheepish all of a sudden.

“That what you wanted?” He asks sarcastically, his voice all wrecked and gruff as he gestures at the mess on his stomach with his clean hand while his body keeps shuddering with aftershocks.

You need a moment to find your voice again, your heart still hammering against your ribcage just from watching him get off while your core is still fluttering and pulsing with want and a desperate need for attention.

“Y-yeah,” you admit with a few tiny nods, still blushing with arousal after heaving a deep sigh, “That was…perfect. You were bloody perfect, honey.” You utter another praise and watch his cheeks tint with a blush.

“Tsk,” Simon scoffs, shaking his head slightly, completely blissed out of his mind, “You better shut it, lass, and help me clean up this mess.” He grunts dismissively, though he’s grinning proudly.

“Gimme ten minutes, lovey.” He remarks with a wolfish smirk, the innuendo clear as he doesn't bother to tuck his half-hard cock back into his sweats, after you’ve retrieved some soft tissues from the box on the coffee table.

Making him cum now merely opened the floodgates, like shaking a champagne bottle and pulling the cork recklessly; his hunger for you has only been ignited and, boy, he is starving again, though not for your delicious lasagna this time.

When you hold out the tissues to him with an amused look, Simon grabs your wrist suddenly and hauls you on top of him again, up to his chest this time, wrapping one strong leg around your body securely to keep you caged in before he cups your cheek with his cum-slicked hand and finally captures your lips in a deep, sloppy kiss.

He knows you don't mind the mess.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #call of duty #task force 141 #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #tf 141

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fanficimagery · 1 year ago

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Violent Little Thing

To the Sons of Anarchy, you're just Happy's neighbor that doesn't care for drama or the fact that they wear kuttes. But in actuality, you've dealt and probably have done far worse, and it isn't until you're kidnapped that they find out your secret.

Author's Note: Long time no see, huh? Does this mean I'm back? Hell no. This has been sitting in my drafts since mid-2023 and thought it was time to go out. For never having seen more than a few episodes, I love these SOA boys. I'm not super familiar with the lingo or clubhouse etiquette, so this is gonna take place away from that particular setting. Trigger warning for graphic violence and attempted sexual assault (it doesn't get far). Reader is gonna be a little… off the rails. Blame all the dark romance I've been reading lmao.

Before moving into your new home, you knew it was going to be a fixer upper. Fortunately for you, you loved working with your hands, and after having been banished to Charming in hopes of calming your inner demons, you were going to have a lot of time to do just that. But the joke was on your family because there was no calming your demons. People just needed to learn to not piss you the fuck off.

When you get to the house, however, you see that a majority of the work has already been done for you. The only thing left for you to do is paint the walls, rearrange furniture, and unbox your belongings. The electricity and water are already turned on, and wifi has been installed with your password on a sticky note.

The master bedroom is huge and you love it, but you don't have nearly enough belongings to fill it. Your queen-sized bed looks tiny and you immediately want something bigger. So heading back outside to your vehicle, you grab your bag that has your laptop inside and head back in. Setting up at your kitchen island, you search for a place that will deliver any type of food and beverage. You find a pizzeria just on the outskirts of town that will deliver to Charming, so you place a quick order. It's a forty minute wait period, so to pass the time you start looking up bedroom ideas.

You run across a California king bed, but none really catch your eye. What does catch your eye, however, are the DIY beds that touch from one side of the wall to the other. You take your laptop back to your bedroom so see if it's do-able, and come to the conclusion that it is. You'll have to add some floating shelves since you won't be able to have bedside tables, but that's perfectly fine with you. You then take the time to get down the measurements of your room because you still have to situate your dresser and mount your TV to the wall, and you need to make sure everything will fit.

Eventually your food gets there and, sitting at the kitchen island, you dig in. You slowly eat and drink your fill, and then place any leftovers in the already cool refrigerator.

Needing some bathroom necessities and sheets for your current bed, you unload your vehicle. You place each box in their respective rooms, but leave them mostly boxed up. And not wanting to get any TV's mounted or bed fully put together since you still have to paint the walls, you remain on your laptop to pass the time and send messages to your family to let them know you're okay.

It takes you a couple of weeks to build your bed frame, get in your special ordered mattress, and paint the walls to your liking. You do most of your building in the driveway, so you've become accustomed to the people living on your street, waving at them as they pass or call out a greeting. But there's one individual everyone seems to steer clear of or avoid eye contact with, and that's your next door neighbor who rides a motorcycle and proudly wears a Sons of Anarchy kutte.

You had first seen the intimidating, bald man when he showed up a couple days after you moved in. You'd looked up when you heard the rumblings of engines and watched two motorcycles pull into the driveway next door. You paused hammering for a moment, nodded at the two men who took a moment to stare back, and then went back to work.

Over the next few days, men came and went from next door. And each time, they were intrigued watching you work. But eventually your bed frame was finished and you had to situate it in your bedroom. Maneuvering the mattress was no easy feat, but you were not about to ask for help, and it didn't take you long to finally finish furnishing your home to your liking.

As busy as you've been, you haven't really had the time to eat a home cooked meal. So after everything, you took a trip to the grocery store and bought hundreds of dollars of food and drink to stock your kitchen with.

The air is finally cool and crisp, so all the windows to your home are wide open. You'd been feeling a little restless, so you opted to cook a meal that would keep you busy. Enchiladas, rice, and beans is one of your favorite meals, so after making sure you have everything, you put a pot of beans to cook. They have to cook for a few hours, so while that's going on you get online to check in with your family.

When the beans are done, you get started on browning hamburger meat. Setting a majority of the meat aside, you use only a bit for the enchilada sauce. You pour in water, flour, spices, and some canned chili until it's to your liking, and then heat up some corn tortillas before you start rolling the enchiladas. After they're in a pan that holds far too many for only you, you pour the enchilada sauce on top before shredding some cheese atop of it. Once that's in the oven, you get started on a pan of rice.

It's when the rice is boiling that your doorbell rings. A little tired and more than a little hungry, you grab up your beer after turning off the rice, and take a swig of it on your way to the door. Since the door is wide open, you can easily see who's standing just on the other side of the screen door. It's one of the Sons, one of the only two with brown skin that you've seen so far. But this isn't the intimidating bald one, this is the one with a shaved mohawk down the center of his head and a killer smile.

You arch an eyebrow at him as he tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and you take another swig of beer as you lean against the door jamb. "Yes?"

The corner of his eyes crinkle as his smile widens. "Hi. Uh, me and my boys are chilling next door and we couldn't help but smell whatever it is you're eating. You mind sharing the name of the place where you picked up your food from so we can go get some too? Smells really good."

Your lips twitch. "Who said I picked anything up?"

"You cooking?" His eyes widen. "Bullshit."

You huff a laugh and nod. "YN."

"Juice."

"Mhmm." You push the door open just enough so you can lean out and peer next door, catching sight of two men sitting sideways on the seats of their bike. "Just you three?"

"Yeah."

You hum again and then back into your home as the screen door shuts quietly. "I've been watching you guys come and go, nodding cordially when our gazes clash," you say. "If you're willing to leave your shoes by the front door, you're more than welcome to pull up a seat at the table."

"Forreal?"

"Sure." You shrug. "I never learned how to cook for one, so I might have made an entire tray of enchiladas that will most likely go to waste if someone else doesn't eat them."

"Oh hell yeah." Juice turns, cupping his hands around his mouth as he says, "Yo! Free meal! Get over here!"

You watch as one man eagerly gets off his bike, whooping in delight of free food. The other, the one you believe actually lives next door, casually gets up at a leisurely pace. You push open the screen door as they're stomping up your porch steps, and Juice introduces you to Tig and Happy. You do your best not to smile because Happy does not look quite so happy, but he grunts a greeting when you tell them your name.

As Juice steps into your home, he's quick to kick off his shoes and tell his boys to do the same. They do and then you lead the way to the kitchen, pointing at your table. "Siéntate."

"Ohhh. A Spanish lady," Tig muses as Juice translates for him to sit down as you instructed. When you glance at him, his wild-crazed gaze makes you snort. "I like 'em a little spicy."

"And I like 'em less talkative." Happy and Juice both snort, and Tig beams at your sassy retort. "Beer or soda?"

Tig and Happy take beers, and Juice takes a soda. You serve them each their own plate of three enchiladas, a scoop of rice, and a scoop of beans. You serve yourself last with a glass of water, and finally take a seat to dig into all your hard work.

"Goddamn," Tig grumbles after his first bite of everything. "This is some Mexican restaurant level shit here."

You grin as you eat at your own pace, feeling content at watching three grown men finding your cooking delicious.

"So what's your story?" Juice asks. "In all the times I've come around, it's just you here."

"That's because it is just me here."

"Why Charming?"

You take a moment to swallow your food, washing it all down with a sip of water as you lean back in your chair. Then glancing between each man and the patches on their kuttes, you ask, "Do you want the real story or the story I'm feeding anyone who asks in polite small talk when they see a new face in the store?"

All three men slow their eating, their gazes sliding up to you in surprise.

"What's the story you tellin' the locals?" Tig asks.

Placing a hand over your heart and changing your voice so you sound like a southern belle, you say, "Just that I just left a very nasty relationship and my family thought I deserved a fresh start away from the man who dared lift a fist in my direction."

Tig snorts. "And the real story?"

You chuckle as your voice goes back to normal. "My family thought I needed to calm my inner demons, so they banished me to Charming. Joke's on them, I've made peace with my demons. It's not my fault people keep pissing me off."

Tig and Juice laugh as Happy smirks at you.

"What'd you do to earn banishment?" Juice wonders.

You shrug. "I wasn't joking about the nasty relationship. I just leave out the small detail that once I was out of the hospital, I went crawling back to my dickhead of an ex-fiancé and plotted my revenge."

"Crazy and you can cook. Marry me," Tig says.

You shake your head at him, eating a bit more before finishing the story. "I was raised to take no shit from anyone. So after he put me in the hospital, I made him believe all was well. Then one night, when he least suspected it, I slipped him a little something so he was conscious, but paralyzed, and set fire to his house."

The three men freeze, but you continue eating as if it was no big deal.

"Did you- did you kill him?" Juice warily asks.

"Unfortunately, no." You pout and then laugh at their awed expressions. "He had nosy neighbors so they were able to get the firetrucks there as soon as they smelled smoke. But when my family found out, they said I was sloppy, so I got shipped out here."

"Yoo.. what the fuck?" A moment of quiet ensues and then Juice is laughing. "That has to be the craziest shit I've heard in a while."

"I highly doubt that." Your gaze drops to the patch on his kutte. "I'm sure you've heard, seen, or taken part of some pretty crazy shit." When you meet his gaze again, you smirk. "Am I wrong?"

Juice grins and then looks at Happy. "Your neighbor is cool as shit. I'm kind of jealous." The air of amusement lingers as everyone continues to eat. "So what do you do for work?"

"I do some IT stuff for my family." You shrug. "I can work from anywhere, so I guess I'll still be doing that. What about you boys? What do you do other than ride?"

"We work at Teller Automotive," Tig says. "Only car garage in town."

"Really? Do you guys have any openings this week? I need my oil changed."

"Sure. We'll leave a number before we leave."

The rest of dinner is spent with the men telling you what there is to do in Charming and asking how long you plan on staying. You're not really sure, but if you end up liking Charming then you have no issues setting down roots. And then when dinner is done and you've seemed to exhaust all the small talk topics, you plate up the leftovers and send the men on their way.

Over the next couple of weeks, you befriend your neighbor. You take your vehicle into Teller Automotive and Happy takes it upon himself to take care of it for you. Tig and Juice had kept you company, and introduced you to a few of their other brothers when they took interest in their new friend. You were invited to one of their parties and, after some pressuring, you went. Nothing shocked you, not even a few members of the club getting head in plain sight, but Happy apparently shocked everyone else by gluing himself to your side. According to the club President, Happy was normally found in the ring outside or fucking his way through croweaters, but that night he made sure that no one bothered you.

Then more often than not, Happy reaped the benefits of your cooking and appeared for dinner before taking leftovers home for lunch.

In such a short period of time, you grow accustomed to the stern biker's company.

One morning, you're startled awake by the doorbell ringing and a fist pounding on the door. You sit up and scoot out of bed, hurrying towards your front door in a groggy, yet panicked state. But before you pull the door open, you peer out one of the thin windows on one side of your door. It takes a moment for you to realize it's Happy and that the sky behind him is still dark.

Unlocking the door, you pull it open. "What the fuck, Hap? What's going on?"

With a duffel bag hanging off his shoulder, Happy looks you up and down. "You always answer the door like this or am I just special?"

You freeze and then glance down, rolling your eyes when you remember you went to sleep in a gray wife beater, that makes it very obvious you're not wearing a bra, and a pair of hipster underwear. "Neither. You're lucky."

"Sure." You narrow your eyes at him and he smirks. "I forgot the bills were due and everything got shut off. Can I crash here until I get it sorted?"

Without missing a beat, you say, "Yeah," and step back from the door, opening it wider. "Shoes off. You know where the bathroom is and I'm pretty sure you can find the guest bedroom." You yawn and lock the door behind your friend. "What time is it?"

"Little after five."

"Happy," you whine. "S'too fuckin' early. M'going back to bed." As you pad back to your room, you don't hear any footsteps behind you. "Stop staring at my ass!"

"Can't help it. Might start dropping by early now."

"Do it and die, Lowman." Stopping and turning, you point an accusatory finger at him. "Do not come in between me and my bed. I will murder you."

His lips twitch. "Worth it."

. .

It takes less than a week for Happy to get his power and water turned back on, and then he's back at his house. Though there are times when he shows up for dinner, dropping off on your couch when he's too tired to walk back home. Normally you would mind, but Happy knew how to clean up after himself, so you didn't mind that it seemed he was practically half moved in.

One night, you get a call from your brother that they need you to come in and work on cracking the passwords on a few laptops they'd gotten their hands on. You agreed, but first you needed to arrange someone to look after your house.

The next afternoon, you show up to Teller Automotive. You find Happy on a smoke break and ask him for a favor. When you ask him if he can keep an eye on your house for two days, he seems surprised, even more so when you give him a copy of your house key. You tell him he can crash there and eat whatever food you have so long as he doesn't trash the place. He readily agrees.

And when you return two days later, you realize you should have specified that he could crash in the guest bedroom. Finding a nearly naked Happy in your bed isn't half bad, nor is the firmness of his ass when you smack a hand down on it to wake him up.

Immediately he jerks awake, twisting his body as he sits up, and pointing a gun right at your face. You laugh and lick the tip of the barrel while wiggling your eyebrows at him. "Wakey, wakey."

"You're a fuckin' pyscho," he grumbles, lowering his gun.

"Yeah, well duh. You should have had that figured out a long time ago." He rolls his eyes before turning to drop down face first back into your pillow, shoving his gun back under it. You grin. "Was there something wrong with the guest room you've been using?"

"No. I just didn't know how fuckin' massive your bed was. It looked lonely without a body in it."

"Mhmm. I'm sure." He grunts and you chuckle as you crawl out of the bed. "I'm gonna go pick up some breakfast from the diner. Want anything?"

"Anything and everything."

"Gotcha. I'll text you when I'm on my way back."

. .

The dynamic between you and Happy ended up changing after that fateful morning. When he slept over, it was in your bed. You hadn't crossed the line past lingering touches or innuendos, but it was a given that he was the only person allowed in your bed. You didn't care for the croweaters at the parties his club put on every Friday night, but the two of you made a statement when he rolled up one night with you seated behind him.

The Sons nearly gaped as Happy amped up his protectiveness, pulling you between his parted thighs as he took a seat on a stool at the bar. Tig and Juice had walked over, and Happy perched you on his knee as you joked with his brothers. The croweaters didn't bother to hide their glares or sneers, but you merely smirked at their cattiness and took to scratching the back of Happy's head with your nails when you'd draped your arm around his shoulders.

"So, is this a thing?" Jax, the club president, had asked.

You shrugged and grinned. "We're friends."

"Friends don't stake claims."

"We're possessive friends."

Happy had snorted but didn't correct you.

From there on out, it was known that you were Happy's.

The Sons are relaxing at the clubhouse after a long day's work when blacked out Escalades and BMW's pull up. The atmosphere immediately goes from relaxed to tense, and the Sons flank their President when he walks out to the lot to see what the deal is.

Thug after thug exit the vehicles before opening the doors on two Escalades, ushering out four well-dressed men. None of them look like they'd be a person to fuck with, so Jax is extremely curious as to what the fuck is going on.

"Can I help you?" He asks, eyebrow arches as tattooed thugs flank the apparent important men.

"I hope you can." The one in charge reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a picture. "What do you know about this woman?"

When Jax is shown a picture, he mentally curses. It's Happy's neighbor and a friend to many Sons. He keeps his expression neutral, before shrugging. "Nothing. Should I?"

"She's my baby sister."

"Oh hell…"

"YN never misses check-in and she's missed two," the man explains. "It's come to my attention that she's made some connections to Happy Lowman, Juan Ortiz, and Tig Trager- all Sons of Anarchy. Do you understand why I'm here now?"

"Fuck, man, we didn't know. What can we do?"

"You can start by questioning your men to see if they'd heard from her."

At that, Tig steps forward. "I haven't seen or spoken with YN in a little over a week."

"What about Juan or Happy?"

Jax looks at his gathered men, frowning. "Where are Juice and Happy?" No one says anything, looking as confused as their President when they don't see their familiar faces. Then raising his voice, he asks, "Has anyone heard from Happy or Juice today?" Nothing. No one utters a peep. "What about yesterday?"

"Jax." Opie has his phone to ear, shaking his head. "Both are going to voicemail."

"Shit." Then turning around to face the slowly darkening expressions of YN's apparent brothers, Jax asks, "How can we help?"

. .

When your eyes flutter open, every inch of your body is in pain.

"How the fuck does my hair hurt?" You groan. You try to sit up, but realize you're on your side, on dirt and hay, with your hands tied behind your back. "What the actual fuck?" Clearing your vision, you see that you're not alone. Happy and Juice are with you, but they're in chairs with their hands tied behind their backs and looking a little beat up.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," Juice tiredly muses.

"What happened?" Maneuvering around some, you manage to sit up.

"Kidnapped," Happy says. "They injected us with some shit, but they gave you too much."

You grimace as you roll your neck. "Dicks." It's dim in the empty barn you're being kept in, but you can see sunlight through the cracks of the walls. There are stalls for animals on either side of you, all empty, and a table filled with various blades and weapons not too far away. Your aching arms are your main priority though, so you move into a crouch and wiggle your tied wrists under your butt. With a grunt, you fall backward and maneuver your hands until they're situated in front of you. "Ah. That's better."

"Get up and grab a blade so we can get the fuck outta here," Happy urges.

You do as you're told, mentally scoffing at the thought that these morons didn't think to bind your ankles. Unfortunately, you're not so lucky as someone had been watching from the shadows. So just as you're reaching for a blade, that someone jumps out at you and roughly pins you against the table.

Bent over with your arms above your head and someone pressed up right against you, you immediately start thrashing and cussing out whoever it is. Happy and Juice shout, and start wriggling in their own seats when a hand then pins you to the table by the back of your neck.

"So close, princesa." A man tuts and you jerk in his hold, but still he persists. Laughter causes you to look up, watching as another two men step out from behind Happy and Juice. "Is that anyway to talk to your host?"

"Fuck. Off."

"Oh, I will." Just then, a hand grips your waist and squeezes, and you freeze. "Just not yet. I have some questions for you."

"Don't you fucking touch her."

When you glance up at Happy, there's a look on his face that you've never seen before. You know what he does for the Sons, but you'd never seen that particular dark look or glint in his eyes, and for a moment it steals your breath away. Then you remember that look isn't meant for you, and you squirm a little as the man behind you laughingly presses his pelvis into your ass. "Or what?"

Juice answers, "Or we'll fucking kill you."

That causes all three men to laugh some more.

"Doubtful. But thanks for the laugh." Then the man behind you focuses on you once again. "Besides, my business isn't with you, but with the princesa de la mafia."

You tense. "I don't know anything."

"Aw. Of course, you don't," the man coos. "I would hope that your brothers are smart enough to never let a woman in on their secrets. But then again, you are the baby sister of one of the most dangerous mafias in the United States. I'm pretty sure you know something that I can use to hurt those brothers of yours."

You manage to angle your head just enough so you can make eye contact with Happy. He meets your stare, and you see it subtly soften, but then he's glaring at the man holding you once more. "I won't sell out my brothers."

"No?" The man releases your neck, only to trail his fingers down from your ribs to hips. "I don't want to mess up such a pretty face, but you do know there are other ways to break you and get you to talk, right?"

And then before you can answer, he's grabbing the back hem of your shirt and ripping it down the middle.

You yelp just as Happy shouts, "You motherfucker!", and squirm to get away. Across from you, Happy and Juice are pummeled a few times until they stop trying to break the chairs they're bound to.

The man rubs a hand up and down your back, fiddling with your bra strap, but never unsnapping it. You feel gross, but it's only when the guy reaches around to fiddle with the button on your jeans does red cloud your vision.

"Hey, Hap?" You manage to meet Happy's livid gaze. "Remember when I spoke about my demons?"

"Yeah."

"They desperately wanna come out to play."

"Shut the fuck up, you whore!" The man slaps you across the back of your head and you grit your teeth, biding your time.

Happy slowly smirks. "Then let them out to play, baby."

The moment the button on your jeans is opened, you scream at a pitch that startles every man in the room. Then pushing up as much as you can, you headbutt the man behind you. As he swears, you reach for the first handle you see and are pleasantly surprised to find a small machete. Then without even thinking, you whirl around and swing the blade, catching your would-be abuser in the neck with the blade.

Blood sprays as you immediately tug the blade free, leaving the man to try and cover his wound as he splutters on his own life force. From the corner of your eye, you see someone running at you, but another swing of the machete finds a home in the second man's face.

As the man falls back with a scream unlike anything you've ever heard, he takes the machete with him. Happy and Juice shout at you, and it's then you remember the third. He's running at you, a small blade in hand, and you reach for the nearest weapon. It's a metal bat and just as you rear back to swing, he swings first. The blade makes contact with your bicep, slicing it open, but you only feel the sting of it after you swing.

The bat clips the man in the jaw, stunning him. As he stumbles back, you advance. He sloppily swipes at you again, but you dodge it. The second hit with the bat hits true, catching him in the temple.

The man falls and you're quick to stand over him, bringing the bat down a third time.

The bat connecting for a fourth time makes Juice cringe, but Happy proudly watches on.

Thwack.

Thwack. A scream.

Crack!

"Shit. I think that was his skull," Juice mutters.

YN screams as she continues to wail on the man with her bat, caving his skull further and further in, to the point there's now a puddle of blood beneath his head and splattering with every pull back.

The barn doors open, and Happy and Juice tense when armed men start to file in, but they exhale with relief when they see Jax, Tig, Chibs, and Opie in the mix. All the unfamiliar men take in the scene with an air of indifference, but it's the expressions of the Sons that almost make Happy laugh out loud. They'd only known YN to laugh, feed them, or threaten the croweaters with violence. None of them, with the exception of himself, Juice, and Tig, knew the violence she was capable of.

"Uh, a little help?" Juice calls out. "My arms are killing me over here."

Tig rushes over, pulling out a blade to cut his brothers free. "What the fuck happened?"

"One of them threatened to rape her and she just lost her shit."

Juice is cut free first, and he immediately stands, rubbing his raw wrists. As Jax checks in with him, Happy is cut free.

"Boss, should we stop this?" Someone asks.

Happy looks over in time to see a guy in a suit grimace when blood is flung onto his pristine boots. "Do you want to get in the middle of that? You know how YN is. Let's just let her run out of steam."

As the guy steps back in line with a nod of agreement, Happy huffs and stands. He stalks over to YN until he's behind her. Then when she raises the bat high above her head, Happy lunges. He manages to grip the bat where it isn't slick and pulls it from YN's grasp.

Still very much livid, especially now that your weapon's been ripped from you, you whirl around to start screaming expletives and pummel whoever it is with your bound fists. Instead, arms are wrapped around you, keeping your arms stuck between your chest and another, and there's a gruff voice in your ear saying, "It's over. It's over, baby. The cavalry's here. You can stop now."

It takes a long minute for the voice to infiltrate the fog of rage, and then a moment to realize who's speaking.

When your struggles cease, Happy leans back a little to look down at you, but with his arms still wrapped around you. "You back?"

"Y-Yeah. M'sorry."

Happy grunts and leans his face closer to yours, and for a moment you think he's about to kiss you. Instead, he presses his forehead against yours as his eyes close, and he exhales with relief. "Don't be. That was hot as fuck."

You huff a quiet laugh as a bout of silence ensues, but then one of your brothers decides to ruin it.

"Hey, Lowman, we'll give you a million dollars if you give her your last name and take her off our hands."

You jerk in Happy's hold, turning to glare at all your smirking brothers. "Fuck off!" Laughter ensues at your disgruntled expression before Juice fills them in on what happened, and then Happy is tugging on your bound wrists so you look back at him before finally cutting you free. "Thank you."

One hand grasps the hair at the back of your head, gripping a little tight as he holds you in place so he can press a kiss to your forehead. "Let's get you home. You're covered in blood, and I need to take a look at your arm."

Glancing at your arm, you shrug. It stings, yeah, but it doesn't seem deep enough. And then just as you go to take a step, Happy swoops you up into a bridal carry.

It's then you notice that you, Happy, and Juice are all barefoot, and it's Juice who answers your unasked question. "You sleep like the dead, girl. Happy and I heard them enter the house, but they still managed to get the drop on us."

"I'm getting you a goddamn dog," Happy grumbles in response.

"Only if you clean up after it." He grunts and you grin. If he wanted a guard dog for you, then he was cleaning up any messes.

Outside the barn, suggestions are made about where to go now. Jax suggests the clubhouse, but at the wrinkling of your nose, Happy says you'll be going home. Your brothers mention not everyone can go because that many vehicles will draw attention, so Jax suggests sending your brothers' men back to the club with Opie and Chibs. They agree, and then you're loaded up into an Escalade with your brothers and Happy.

When you get to your house, Tig mentions that they had cleaned up and straightened your furniture after they figured out what had happened. You thank him and let Happy carry you to your bathroom while Juice takes the guest bathroom.

As Happy sets you on the counter, you watch as he gets the first aid kit from beneath your sinks. "They're gonna talk."

"Let them. The club already thinks we're fuckin'."

You snort. "Please. They should know by now that I'd never settle for a relationship where the guy gets to fuck around when he's on the road." Happy freezes with the antiseptic spray bottle in his hand before shaking himself free of thought and spritzing your arm where you were cut.

"Is that why you haven't given me the go-ahead to slip between your thighs?"

You smile at his blunt question and then wince when he wipes your arm clean. "Pretty much. I'm not a fan of my partner sticking his dick or tongue in some rando pussy, then coming home and doing the same to me." Happy grunts and you arch an eyebrow at him. "Would you be okay with me visiting my brothers and sucking someone's dick before coming home to you?"

"Fuck no."

"Exactly." You grin triumphantly. "So, unless you plan to stop dicking down croweaters or sweetbutts, the most you'll get out of me is some cuddling."

Stepping back, Happy tosses the used gauze pads into the trashcan and then reaches into your shower stall to turn on the water. Then looking at you, he demands, "Strip."

"If I fully strip, there's no going back. You're mine and mine alone." You hop off the counter, slipping off your ruined shirt without batting an eye. "I was calm and collected at your parties before because we're friends, but that all changes after this. I won't take it easy on any woman touching what's mine."

Happy smirks as he eyes you in your bra and jeans, and then strips off his shirt. "Good."

You've seen the man shirtless only a handful of times, but seeing his ink never fails to give you pause. You reach out for the first time, tracing the snake tattoo that takes up a majority of his chest and upper abdomen, before you trace the various happy faces on the side of his waist. You feel his abdominal muscles twitch and then between one heartbeat and the next, Happy's crowding you against the sink counter and angling your head up.

His kiss is as aggressive as you figured it'd be, his tongue sliding against yours and teeth digging into your bottom lip. You give as good as you get, nails digging into either side of Happy's waist as you kiss him. Then when the need for air arises, you pull back and try to catch your breath. "Well okay then."

Moving out from Happy's reach, you strip, uncaring of your nudity and then step into the steaming shower. Happy isn't too far behind you, but you're not too interested in seeing him fully naked as you are cleansing a stranger's blood from your body. Standing under the waterfall, you watch as the shower floor turns red. Happy presses in close behind you so he's under the water as well, and you straighten up before leaning your head back onto his shoulder, smiling softly at his hardness that presses against your ass.

"No funny business, Lowman. At least not until we've eaten a fuck ton and slept for a day or two."

He grunts. "Agreed."

You immediately start washing your hair, and you're surprised when Happy takes it upon himself to lather up some soap on your bath pouf to wash your body. For the most part he behaves himself, but when his thumb oh so casually brushes over your nipples, you slap his thigh and pay him back when it's your turn to wash him. He grunts when you take his dick in hand and thrusts into your soapy palm, but you quickly release him to finish washing his body.

"Fuckin' tease."

"You started it."

You get out of the shower first, smirking as Happy tells you he'll be out in a moment. You know exactly what that moment's going to entail since his hand is already stroking his cock before you can even find a towel.

"You gonna want something to eat?"

"Send Tig to get burgers and fries."

"Alright."

Back in your room, you can hear a muttered conversation from somewhere in your house. Clutching the towel around your body, you stick your head out your door. "Tig!"

"What?"

"Happy said to go get us some burgers, fries, and Cokes!"

"Do I look like a fuckin' maid?!" Tig appears in the hall, hands on his hips.

You grin at him. "No, but I do have a maid's costume. Wanna try it on?" Tig gapes and you laugh at his expression. "Come on, Tig. Please? You can grab some cash from the junk drawer."

"Fine. But only because I know Hap will murder me if I don't, not because I'm picturing you in a teeny tiny maid's outfit."

"Sure, buddy. Thank you!"

Tig grumbles as he turns to march out of your house and then you worry about getting dressed. You dress in nothing but a sports bra and boy short underwear, and then with a reluctant sigh you head to the front. Everyone's in your kitchen, sitting around your table, and your brothers groan when they see how little you're wearing.

"Oh, shut up. You've seen me in clothes like this before."

"In tights, not underwear," one brother grumbles.

"Just be glad they're boy shorts and not a g-string."

All your brothers groan yet again whereas the Sons find the interaction amusing. You take a seat at the table, grimacing a little and touching at your raw wrists.

"Let me get that for you," Juice says. He leaves to, no doubt, grab the first aid kit from the bathroom. Then taking a seat next to you, he asks, "Did Hap disinfect your arm?"

"Yeah. Just spritz it again and wrap it. It'll be fine."

As soon as Juice gets to work, Happy enters the kitchen in nothing but a pair of jeans hanging off his hips.

"Jesus," one of your brother's mumbles. "Are people suddenly allergic to clothes around here?"

You grin as Jax arches an eyebrow at his friend. "You have clothes here?" Happy nods and sits, and you quickly introduce him to your brothers while Jax looks at Juice to say, "You seem to know your way around this place too."

"It's because they practically live here when they're not at the clubhouse," you say. "Hap's moved his shit in my room, and Tig and Juice have slowly taken over my guest room." Then glancing at your brothers as if you didn't just drop somewhat of a bombshell on Jax, you ask, "So what the hell happened?"

Juice taps above one of your raw wrists and you situate them so he can disinfect them.

Your eldest brother meets your gaze. "There's a new family in town- Jimenez. They're trying to make a name for themselves and thought they could intimidate us." You scoff as your other brother's chuckle. "When they didn't get the reaction they were looking for, they came up with the bright idea to target the weak link. They thought they had the perfect candidate when they found out we had a baby sister."

"Joke's on them, you're fuckin' psycho," another brother muses.

"I'm not-"

"We literally walked in on you bashing a guy's head in."

"And let's not forget the whole reason you're in Charming is because you tried to burn down your ex's house while he was still inside."

"Or that one time you wrecked your car into that other girl's car all because she broke your friend's heart."

"That cunt cheated on him. She deserved every bit of karma I dished out."

Jax snorts, shaking his head. "Christ. You and Hap are gonna be a pain in my ass."

"You know it."

Tig shows up just after Juice is finished with your wrists. Juice then dishes out the food to you, Happy, and himself, and you get up to grab drinks from the fridge. As you settle back down, Jax and your brothers watch in surprise at how the three of you go to town on your provided meals.

"So, what exactly does one do as a mafia princess?" Jax wonders.

Chewing the food in your mouth, you only answer him after taking a drink of your soda. "I'm the family hacker. If they need a computer hacked into to gather information or scrub information, I get called in."

"So, in other words, you're female Juice," Tig says.

You laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, I am." Juice grins and you reach over to fist bump him.

You continue eating as Jax speaks with your brothers, listening as this small portion of the Sons of Anarchy are filled in about what business your family gets up to. When you're finished eating, you stand and start gathering up the trash to toss. While you're up, you grab yourself a glass of water and some Ibuprofen. Then after downing four pills, you head back to reclaim your seat at the table, only for Happy to gently grab you by the arm and tug you down onto his thigh.

Your brothers don't care about your new chair, but Jax, Juice, and Tig can't help but raise an eyebrow.

"So, is this a thing?" Jax wonders, gesturing between you and Happy.

As you drape an arm behind Happy's shoulders to settle more against him, you smirk. "What's the matter, Teller? Scared?"

He huffs and then stares at Happy, but the man beneath you merely says, "Gonna start drawing up a crow. Does that answer your question?"

The kitchen goes eerily quiet and then…

"Holy shit. Hap's actually gonna take a woman," Juice says in awe.

"This is a momentous occasion. We gotta throw a rager." The glint in Tig's eyes has you narrowing your own eyes at him.

"You just wanna see a girl fight. Don't you?"

"Hap's been possessive of you since you first showed up to the clubhouse, but now that you're staking a claim, the thought might have crossed my mind."

"Are you sure you wanna see that?" One of your brother muses. "YN might traumatize a few poor souls."

Tig smiles. "I look forward to it."

You roll your eyes at Tig's excitement about possibly seeing you fight and your brothers chuckle. The Sons really had no idea what they were in for when someone tested your patience.

Standing, you keep a hand on Happy's shoulder as you say, "Well as much as I love, like, and appreciate all of you, you need to go. I'm exhausted and I still need to sleep off whatever I was drugged with."

Jax grins. "Is that code for us to get the hell out so you can bang Happy's brains out?"

Snorting, you shake your head as your brothers all grimace. "No. I'm seriously exhausted. The fucking will come later after we're well rested. I have a feeling I'm gonna need loads of energy for Hap."

Your brothers all make noises of disgust as they stand, and you take a moment to hug and kiss each of their cheeks on their way out. You promise to call when you're feeling better and then you're ushering the Sons out as well.

Locking up after everyone has left, you head to your room where you find Happy stripping off his jeans. He's in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs as he pulls your blanket back before sliding under and you pad over to do the same. You meet him in the middle, laying on your side as you drape one arm over his abdomen. With your head on his arm, you snuggle closer and Happy reaches for your leg to have it draped over his thigh so you're as close as can be without actually laying on top of him.

"Were you serious? About the crow?" You ask right before you drift off.

"Does that freak you out?"

"Not really. But if I get your mark, you're getting mine."

Happy huffs. "And just what is your mark?"

"My lips and name." You run your hand across his abdomen before walking your fingers down to one of the few empty patches of skin, below his belly button and right beneath where the snake's tail curls. "Right here."

"Above my dick, you mean?"

"Mhmm."

Happy grunts and then squeezes you a little tighter to him. "We'll see, princess. Now get some sleep."

#happy lowman imagine #happy lowman x reader #happy imagine #happy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #happy lowman #juice ortiz #tig trager #jax teller #dark romance

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opennwindows · 1 year ago

Note

If you can, could I request BEN Drowned fluff / smut headcanons like about himself, with his headcanon age, hobbies, facts, what he is into or would like & want in a relationship, and what he would be like with a gamer girlfriend/ s/o?

If ya taking requests rn still?✨😇😊💖

Ben Drowned general + NSFW hcs

A/N: yes!! absolutely. i love getting to talk about how the pastas do their pastaing in my mind. i have so many headcanons for everyone that im excited to share!! also sorry i forgot to include the gamer gf part but i don't think it would change a lot of what i wrote!!

btw sorry for fucking dying i have been busy 😭😭 but no one worry i will still continue to work on requests!! if anyone has any marble hornets stuff they wanna request i will zoom you to the front of the queue so fucking quick. anyways enough of me yapping.

cw: 18+ nsfw, toxic relationships, crying kink,

GENERAL

ben is mentally and physically 22, but he can be quite emotionally immature at times. when he died he never stopped growing and maturing, his soul was just stuck in limbo. think like the worst waiting room ever.

he's surprisingly tall, standing at about 5'9. he's lanky but not bone thin. could easily get pretty far in a fight without his ghost powers.

the link costume only appears when he’s in his ghost form. so for example, when he’s messing with someone on their computer he’ll appear as the canon BEN we’re most familiar with. when he’s just chilling in his physical body, he mostly wears beat up hoodies and sweatpants.

contrary to popular belief, ben's not the hardcore gamer everyone thinks he is. sure, he'll play some overwatch or whatever when he's bored but he honestly just prefers to watch tv and browse the internet. understandably REFUSES to play any zelda games. if you were trapped in a video game for decades would you ever wanna touch it again? exactly.

ben loves to draw little comics and troll (see: horrifically traumatize) people online. god forbid you get into twitter beef with this man because he will crawl through your monitor at 3am and leave you with a crippling fear of technology. dude thinks it's absolutely hilarious. a true knee slapper.

lowkey has a sugar addiction. will slam down 4 cans of pepsi in one sitting. he's very lucky that he's basically a ghost because the kidney stones would be plentiful.

ROMANTIC

you know that guy with the blown out speakers in his car, lives off of energy drinks and burnt blue razz ice elfbars, swears aphex twin is the modern mozart and works on the grill at your local wendy’s? yeah thats ben. or at least would be him if he was still human.

“why would you need a chair, my lap is literally right here babe.”

would absolutely wear your skin if given the opportunity. not in a weird way. he’s just EXTREMELY touchy.

he needs someone who is significantly more organized and motivated than him. he can go almost a week without showering and it should honestly be considered biological warfare when he tries to smother you with affection during these episodes.

after awhile of you guys dating he LOVES the idea of y’all showering together. he has a fear of water and while showers aren’t too much of a trigger, your presence helps ease his anxiety.

favorite pet names: bro, dude, dawg, babe, bitch (non derogatory)

not really a romantic but he tries his best. a perfect date for him is just getting some takeout, watching youtube, talking about stupid shit and play fighting. if you want something more traditional or extravagant then he’ll oblige to make you happy but those types of dates make him feel quite suffocated and nervous. try to save those for special occasions.

now let’s talk about his problems because just like the other creeps he is ANGSTY.

he’s probably the most emotionally stable and healthiest of the group but he definitely still has his toxic traits, after all this man is a ghost that mentally tortures and kills his victims through manipulation.

ben would never ever get physical with his partner no matter how enraged he is but he absolutely is the type to do some mental damage when he gets carried away. ben drowned? more like ben gaslighted.

the type to say some shit that would keep you up for years and then kiss you the next morning like the argument never happened. he finds it easier to ignore problems than to actively talk and fix them. you’re gonna have to teach him some important communication skills or else you’ll grow to resent him after all the bottled up rage.

a bit too brutally honest and blunt for his own good so if you have thin skin the relationship would fall apart pretty quickly. he wants someone who can drag him twice as hard as he dragged you. bonus points if your insults are consistently funny as hell.

please watch anime with him and discuss it. he would propose on the spot, especially if you play with his hair.

pro player tip: if you want him to clean his disgusting room, help him and make it fun! he just needs a little push and motivation at times. and being around you makes him want to get his shit together.

big fan of late night make-out sessions. i’m talking like 45 minutes straight of just slobbering on each other’s faces with tongues down throats. if you don’t want his hands running over every inch of your body then you’ll probably have to chain him to the wall.

NSFW

okay. so he’s a little inexperienced with his hands. he’s just a slow learner. be vocal with him about what you like!!

ben's about 7inches and slightly skinnier than average but he will have you seeing stars in record time. the dick game is no joke. he tends to go fast and deep most times.

i can see him being a switch in the idgaf-as-long-as-i’m-fucking way. dude will go with the flow and will try mostly anything.

definitely one of the least aggressive pastas during sex. he has sadistic tendencies but he’s more of a edge/overstimulate you until you cry versus a beat the shit out of you and rip hair out of your scalp type. he’s pretty vanilla given his occupation.

despite his love of roasting the fuck out of you on a daily basis, the only words that come out of this man’s mouth is heavenly praise. he looks at you like you’re the most gorgeous being on the planet and he’ll let you know it.

he loves to whisper praises into your ear while you ride him.

he's more of a receiver than a giver when it comes to oral. he'll absolutely spend hours between your legs if given the chance but nothing beats the sight of you on your knees and teary eyed with his length in your mouth.

he can be a bit of a head pusher but just let him face-fuck you every now and then, hearing his loud moans will be worth it.

did i mention how much of a crying kink this man has? you guys could be on round three and if he stares at your teary eyed fucked-out face for longer than 10 seconds he'll immediately get hard again. you'll have to beg him to give your poor body a break.

he's also into choking but only if he's the one doing it. if you try to restrict his breathing he'll panic and the mood would get ruined.

#creepypasta #creepypasta smut #celia reqs #creepypasta x reader #ben drowned #ben drowned x reader #ben drowned smut #ben drowned x y/n #ben drowned x you #ben drowned headcanons #ben drowned hcs #creepypasta headcanon

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 2 months ago

Text

Look Alike

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous (x3)

Warnings: eating disorder, mentions of depression, attempted murder, I didn’t copy the episode exactly so probably some mistakes

Synopsis: an angel is going around killing anyone who is suffering—but what happens when it goes after you?

A/N: this one is kinda heavy guys, so if this is a topic that will trigger you PLEASE do not read it. And please remember—I think you’re beautiful, and always remember to eat something, even if it’s just a snack, even if it’s not “good for you”; eating something just because you like how it tastes is better than not eating anything at all. Love you guys!

Your fingers fumbled as they retrieved your picture of Mary Winchester, tattered and faded at the edges. You looked from the picture to your own reflection, your heart plummeting.

Your mother had this…this look about her; she was slender and beautiful, but also strong. Strong enough to be a hunter.

You looked at your own reflection again before ducking your head, tucking Mary’s photo back into your wallet.

“Hey kid.” Dean’s voice in your doorway startled you, and you whipped your head around. “Lunch is ready, let’s go…what are you doing in here?”

“Oh, no-nothing,” you muttered, your hands fidgeting. “I’m not that hungry right now, maybe I’ll get something later.”

“Did you eat breakfast?” Dean asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Um—actually, maybe I will eat now.” you sidestepped his question and his body as you headed for the kitchen. Dean dropped the subject, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You were going to have to be more careful about your eating habits—or lack thereof.

Of course Dean had made burgers again. You looked to Sam, hoping he’d made something else, but he was happily chowing down on a huge hamburger—apparently he didn’t mind them if they didn’t come from greasy diners.

You forced yourself not to huff; it was impossible to pretend to eat a burger, so you’d really have to eat this time.

“Here.” Dean pushed a plate at you, and you took it without protest.

You managed to choke down about two bites before Dean got a phone call. He spoke for a few minutes before hanging up and addressing his younger siblings.

“Cas has a case. I’m gonna go check it out.”

“A case?” You put down your burger. “I’ll go pack.”

“I can take this one alone,” Dean assured you.

“Don’t be stupid, I’m coming.” You started for the door, hoping he wouldn’t argue.

“You’re not gonna finish your food?” Sam asked.

“I had enough,” you assured him, and ran off before he could argue.

…

“So…he exploded.” Dean was staring around at the pink living room, a grimace on his face.

“Yeah. So completely that there’s not a bit of him left that’s bigger than a grain of sand,” a nearby officer said. Once the officer stepped away, Dean spoke to you. “I’m gonna go talk to Cas, see what he can tell me. You should stay at the motel, read up on some things.”

“Ok.” You shrugged. “Call me if you find anything out.”

“Deal.”

…

“Ephraim.”

“Gazuntite.”

“No, Dean. Ephraim was—is—an angel, his job on the battlefield was to end the suffering of dying angels.”

“End the suffering…let me guess, by blowing them up?” Dean said.

“Unfortunately, yes. It seems that he’s continuing his mission on earth.”

“Yeah, but these people aren’t dying, they just had a bad day.”

“Apparently Ephraim can’t tell the difference between emotional suffering and…”

“And dying?” Dean scoffed. “Cas, this is crazy. Everybody has bad days, this guy is gonna end up wiping out the world.”

“It’s more than just bad days,” Castiel argued. “These people were in serious emotional turmoil. But you’re right—you need to find him.”

“You’re not gonna help?” Dean challenged.

“Dean, I’m just human. There’s nothing I can do.”

…

You stared at the takeout container that Dean had got you before dropping you off. You couldn’t refuse, you knew he would start to notice if you refused too many meals, but you still didn’t want it.

Your stomach growled, and you cringed. Maybe part of you wanted it.

You pushed the container away, opting instead to don workout clothes—the motel had a gym. You’d never be able to be a hunter like Mary, you’d never be able to keep up with your brothers, if you didn’t workout more.

After an hour on the treadmill, you decided it was time to get back to work. You didn’t want to leave Dean in the lurch when it came to research, even if he hadn’t told you any more information. He got this way when he took you on hunts—determined to do it all alone, not clueing you in on anything.

It’s because you don’t look like a hunter yet.

You swallowed hard. You may not look like a hunter yet, but you would soon enough. You just had to skip a few more meals, go a few more days, and then—just maybe—you could be a good hunter. You would look like Mary did, strong and in shape, and your brothers would trust you more.

You slipped back into your room, going straight for your bag to get your picture of Mary. You held it up for the millionth time, looking from it to the mirror. Your heart sank—you weren’t Mary; maybe you never would be.

Your stomach growled again, and you huffed.

“No,” you told yourself. Your eyes flickered over to the takeout container. You snatched it off the table and threw it into the trash. “No!”

You couldn’t give up now—who cared if you were hungry? Sam and Dean gave up a lifetime of sleep to keep hunting, you could skip some meals to do the same. You had to.

You hadn’t even noticed that you were crying until a few tears dropped onto Mary’s smiling face in your hands.

“Mom,” you whimpered. “Why can’t I just be like you?”

“I can help you.” The voice behind you startled you, and you dropped Mary’s photo, whirling around and reaching for the gun at your waist and.

“Who are you?” You demanded, raising the weapon.

“That won’t do anything to me,” the man insisted. “And you don’t need it. I’m here to help you. You’re suffering, and I’m here to end it.”

“End it?” You took a step back. “You’re the guy we’re after. You’re the one who killed that man, and that teenager.”

“I ended their suffering,” the man continued, stepping towards you. “And I can end yours.”

“It’s not like that!” The gun was shaking in your hands. You didn’t bother to shoot, knowing it wouldn’t help. “I’m not dying!”

“You are,” he argued. “I can heal your hunger, but I cannot make you eat. But the end I will give you will be painless.”

“What are you?” You demanded, taking another step back. Your back hit the sharp edge of a splintered desk, halting your movements.

“I am an angel. My mission is to end suffering. Let me end yours.”

“An angel, huh.” You put your gun down on the desk as if in defeat. While Ephraim kept his attention on your face, you moved your hand down to the splintered edge of the table and slid it across, drawing blood. Dropping your hand out of sight behind the desk, you began to draw an angel banishing sigil.

Ephraim moved before you could blink, grabbing your wrist and twisting it away from the desk.

“Don’t fight it,” he said. “I can help you.” His free hand was suddenly above you, lowering towards your forehead like death’s scythe.

“Hey!” The grip on you was released at the sound of Dean’s voice in the doorway. “Leave her alone!” Dean had his angel blade out and pointed at Ephraim. “You don’t get to just kill people because they’re hurting.”

“That’s exactly what I was made for,” Ephraim argued. “You didn’t even know she was suffering, but I do! And I can fix it!”

“That’s now how you fix it!” Dean thundered. He lunged forward, stabbing at Ephraim with the blade, but the angel side stepped him and flung him into the wall with a single flick of his wrist. The angel blade clattered to the ground, and you once again found yourself face-to-face with the murderous angel.

“Please,” you pleaded. “Look, I know you think you’re doing good. But humans—they hurt sometimes. But we can do better—I can do better—we’re all just doing the best we can.”

“If this is the best that you can do.” Ephraim shook his head. “Then this is what you need.” He stretched out his hand, and your breath caught in your throat.

You jumped back in surprise when Ephraim’s eyes glowed brightly, his jaw hanging open before he slumped to the ground. Dean stood behind him, a bloody angel blade gripped in his hand.

“That’s not what she needs,” he growled almost to himself. Then his eyes were on you. “Are you ok?”

You nodded shakily, taking a deep breath.

“Ok.” Dean dropped the angel blade. “Now what was that about? Why did he think—“

“I-I don’t know.” You couldn’t meet Dean’s eyes.

“Well what—“ Dean’s voice caught, and you looked up to see him staring at the corner of the room. You followed his gaze, and your stomach dropped. He was staring at the tiny garbage can in the corner, the open and full takeout container fully visible.

“Kid.” Dean swallowed. “When was the last time you ate? And no, that one bite of your burger didn’t count.” Dean’s eyes were on you now, and he petrified you to the spot with his gaze. “I mean when was the last time you really ate?”

“I—um…” your lip quivered and your hands began to fidget. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Ok, hey.” Dean pulled you into his arms when you started to cry. “I’ve got you kid.” He pulled away, brushing your tears. “Why are you doing this kid?”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, wiping at your face. “Dean—“ your voice caught and you choked on a sob.

“Ok, ok,” Dean soothed. “It’s ok, let’s…let’s go back home, ok? We can talk about it later. Go and wait in the car, I’ll bring the stuff.”

You went to the car without argument, and after you left Dean called Sam.

“Hey,” Dean huffed while he gathered the guns and clothes and tossed them in his bag. “Do you remember the last time you saw Y/N eat? Like, like a full meal.”

“Um…” Sam’s voice came out surprised and hesitant. “No.” Realization hit him. “No, I don’t. Dean, what’s going on?”

“I don’t think she’s eating. Ephraim…Ephraim tried to kill her.”

“I thought you said he only killed people who were…” Sam swallowed. “Who were really broken up, right?”

“Yeah.” Dean stopped packing long enough to clench and unclench his fist. “Yeah. She’s suffering, Sam, and we didn’t even know it. She stopped eating and we didn’t see.”

“Dean…” Dean heard Sam’s deep breath through the phone. “I’m…I’m gonna do some research while you get here. Try and talk to her on the ride home, ok? Maybe…we’ve gotta help her, Dean.”

“I know. We’ll be back in a couple hours.” Dean hung up, taking a deep breath. “Ok,” he said to himself, zipping up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He stopped in his tracks when he saw a picture in the middle of the floor. He stooped to pick it up—it was Mary, when she wasn’t much older than you. Dean tucked it into his back pocket. “Ok.”

…

“Hey kid,” Dean greeted as he tossed his bag in the back. Your knees were pulled up to your chest, and you didn’t acknowledge him.

Dean let silence reign as he started up the Impala and headed down the road—he couldn’t force you to talk.

“I just wanted to look like her,” you said suddenly, your head resting against your knees.

Dean turned his head to look at you. “What?”

“Mom. I don’t look like her. She was such a good hunter, and I just wanted to be like that.”

“Kiddo—“ Dean’s voice caught. “Kid, you don’t have to look like her to be a good hunter.”

“But I can’t keep up with you.” You sniffled. “I thought if I looked like her…I could keep up with you.”

“When we were your age, we couldn’t have kept up with us,” Dean argued. “Besides, this isn’t…you don’t become a better hunter by starving yourself, kid.”

Dean watched out of the corner of his eye as your fingers clenched on your jeans, bunching up the fabric before you let it go. When you spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know how to stop.”

Dean forced himself to breathe through the pain, taking a moment before offering you a strong smile.

“That’s what we’re here for, kid. Me and Sammy are gonna help you.”

…

“Hey.” Sam’s hug when you stepped into the bunker was surprising and long. You heard Dean’s huff from behind you, but Sam ignored him.

“Hi.” Your greeting was muffled against Sam’s jacket, and he finally pulled away.

“Ok, so um, I’ve been doing some research, so I’ll show you what I got.” Sam reached behind him, picking up printouts from the internet. “I have a list of foods that are supposed to help, and um, I also made up a schedule—that’s supposed to make it easier—and if there’s any specific food you want me to pick up when I go out you can tell me. Or hey, you can just come with me and pick stuff out and—“

“Hey, dude,” Dean cut in with another huff. “I told you not to freak her out about this.”

“I’m not freaking her out!” Sam’s eyes went back to you. “Wait, am I freaking you out?”

“Um…” you picked at your hands. “It…it’s a lot…”

“We’ll start out small,” Dean insisted. “You want some toast?”

“Bread is good,” Sam piped up, holding up one of the research pages.

“Toast sounds good.” Your lips twitched up even as your eyes filled with tears.

“Hey, ok.” Dean’s arms were around you suddenly. “You got this, ok? We’re right here to help you.”

“Ok,” you sniffled.

Dean pulled away. “Ok. Now let’s get you something to eat, and then Sam can freak you out about everything he read.”

Sam opened his mouth, then closed it.

“I think I can do that,” you sniffled.

“I know you can.” Dean grinned. “Oh, hey—“ Dean reached into his back pocket and pulled out your picture of Mary. “This is yours.” You took it with a shaky hand, and when you looked back up Dean was bending down to stare into your eyes. “Hey. You’re just as pretty as mom. And she…she would want you to take care of yourself, ok? And so would dad. And so do we. Kapeesh?”

You threw your arms around Dean.

“Kapeesh,” you told him.

“Ok.” Dean pulled away, reaching up and brushing a stray tear off your face. “Now let’s go get that toast.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810

#the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester #supernatural dean #sam winchester #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x reader #winchesters x reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x little sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester spn #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x you

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pink-key · 1 year ago

Note

How would Toby be with a romantic partner if he ever entered a relationship (like would he be toxic/romantic/etc??)

This will be long, buckle up, as I want to tackle multiple questions.

This is an x y/n headcanons visual thing.

Warning: Terrible writing. Might be slightly dark. Very very long

Firstly, all depends on the closeness you have with Toby.

🍨 Plaything

🍰 Congratulations, you got him interested in you. Maybe it's your overly humorous reaction to him running after you, while he was chaotically swinging his hatchets. Maybe you had a drastically different reaction to his previous victims.

🍰 Either way, he loves tormenting you; his morals are either absent or corrupt. He likes to scare you, looking into your window to your room at night, laughing and rambling nonsense once you notice him (doesn't matter which floor you live on; he can climb). He can inflict some minor or not so pain on you, especially during his episodes, from randomly swinging his weapons in anger or excitement to pushing you around. There is no particular aim in that; he just feels like it, or his mind is fogged by voices and emotions.

🍰 Contrary to popular belief, he isn't shy, he isn't easily embarrassed. He is loud, obnoxious; he will make his opinions known to you; he will comment on anything you do or any of your clothes, personal belongings, even your family. He is here to have fun, not to worry about your feelings. As long as you entertain him, he will keep you alive, driving you to madness.

🍰 He can and will find you anywhere, will make you look like an insane person to other people. He is good at hiding and is skilled at hurting physically and emotionally from a distance (throwing a rock in the head, displacing objects in the room to make one paranoid, etc.). A 2-meter-tall stalker running around with two axes after you? You're hilarious, y/n!

Coincidentally, his boss doesn't order him to kill you; maybe you don't disturb his work much, after all, he doesn't visit you all the time (his life doesn't revolve around you). Just the least when you expect him.

🍰Telling him he is disgusting or commenting his mental issues will result in an instant end, unless he would want to play a chasing game in the forest with you before that.

🍰 If you have an S/O, he will mock you for choosing such a pitiful person as a partner. Just hope he won't involve your S/O in your little games. He doesn't care about your personal life, but he sure knows how dear this relationship is to you.

🍨 "We are buddies, r-right?"

🍰 You somehow managed to survive his attacks, random outbursts, mood swings, threats and, for some reason, decided to befriend him.

Honestly, being his friend is the healthiest you can get and keep bits of your private space at the same time.

🍰 He, despite being insane, brainwashed, and amnesiac, starts to see you more than just an amusement park attraction as a cute little pet, not really an equal. Your relationship is a bit more than him having a blast using physical or mental torture on you. Your presence and personality are also fun, who knew?!

🍰 Maybe, would EVEN feel a slight parody of pity for you. Especially if you tell him your sad stories of your life. He is terrible at comforting, but if the stars align right, he can play his favorite cassettes to you with cheery songs or try to make jokes, but don't expect that to happen every time. Maybe a pat on the head would happen, usually, he would tell you to stop being sad as there are worse things to cry about.

🍰 He teases you and pranks you a lot. Doesn't matter what state you are in.

🍰 His idea of friendship is a bit twisted. You won't mind that he will destroy your belongings if he finds them annoying, right? You are friends! Friends don't hold grudges against each other! Or if he would hurt your family members or friends because they said or did something that triggered his aggression, right? Friends forgive each other! You don't mind sharing everything with him, from food to information, because friends don't keep secrets from each other!

🍰 There is a good part to this relationship. He is kinder to you. Perhaps, would bring you a cute little trinket or object stained in blood. Friends make gifts for each other! He would appreciate it if you would give him something. Be careful what you give him, as he interprets your gifts in his own way. New hoodie? Are you implying his tastes are bad? Are you mocking him?

🍰 This is also where you can shape your friendship into a seemingly normal one. Food is a safe option. Learn what he likes to convey to him that you care about him. The man needs kindness deep inside. It will confuse him; he might get angry at you, at the world without understanding why, but the long-term result is worth the risk.

🍰 If you are in danger, he might save you. Although you will bear the guilt of some hooligans being either deadly hurt or dead.

🍰 He is also more open to you. You can hold small conversations with him, discussing music, for example. However, if he is in one of his episodes or even just mood swings, he can snap, shout at you or just be mad at you for an unknown reason, while rambling something incomprehensible and leave you alone for a week or more. Violence isn't completely off the table either.

🍰 If you have an S/O (or just hangs out with friends), He can get jealous because you don't pay attention to him at that exact moment. He isn't always jealous, just sometimes. If he is in a terrible mood, might even hurt your S/O, he isn't shy at that stage to involve anyone in the mess. He can complain about your S/O. It's not advised to dispute him, as he can get angry at you. You are his friend! Why are you fighting him?

🍨 Obsessive

🍰 After a lot of talking, gifts and, if you were bold enough, light friendly physical touch, he is feeling smitten by you.

🍰 You notice weird signs of attention from him, he makes some sort of romantic gestures, but it comes off as creepy to you. For instance, he thought a fur coat is what you would like, but he didn't realise you need to work on the fur instead of giving it bloody to you.

🍰 He doesn't understand himself, his voices aren't helping him either, he is feeling hate then sickly love from one second to another. If he thinks too much about that, he twitches and tics more than usual, especially in your presence. He is more distant; he doesn't respond to you. He just sits there, shifting his eyes without focusing on anything, occasionally roughly turning to one of his auditory hallucinations.

🍰 You don't understand his ramblings or whispers, and now they are more disjointed than ever. He avoids you for a few months or even more. It worries you more than him being around you, as you're used to his presence by now. Who knows, maybe he got bored with you and just contemplates how brightly he could end your life.

🍰 He can't run from his feelings forever. As a snow during summer, he busts into your house and just dumps all his thoughts on you—just an incomprehensible jumble. You won't understand it right away until he grabs you by the shoulders and forces you into an embrace, then pushes you away, twitching, staring into your soul, waiting for your response. He doesn't say, but he already knows how you feel, even if he lies to himself. He is attentive and sensitive to human emotions, and he reads body language quite well.

🍰 You have a choice. If you deny his love, either one of things will happen. You die because he feels like it. You don't like him, if he kills you, he kills his feelings for you at the same time. Yet, there is a slim chance he can just forcefully make you like him, can lead to kidnapping, but you won't love him that way either, he would realize that, that's not right, and you are also dead in this scenario.

🍰 If you lie and accept his feelings, you won't last long, either. He notices all the slight restless movements around him, your discomfort, the way you look at him. He hates liars, so it's best to be honest and die quickly rather than slowly.

🍰 If you have a strong, twisted friendship and you learn how to talk to him, how to act when he is difficult to interact with, and you just find him with his bouquet of disorders and trauma charming in his own way, then you don't need to say much to him.

🍰 He doesn't know anything about relationships. He can come off as toxic, as his jealousy flies from low to high in a matter of moments. He is still a snappy, angry, insane serial killer, he just now sometimes apologizes if he was too rude to you. More gifts too, woo-hoo!

🍰 He is obsessive, but that also depends on a lot of circumstances. He wants to be around you as much as possible. Just your presence gives him some sort of emotional bliss when his thoughts are a bit less loud than usual. At the same time, his thoughts are chaotic and get under his skin, and he can disappear for some time. Or one of your words can trigger him; he can be violent or distant.

🍰 Dates with him are attempts to replicate what he sees in movies. He watched whatever old VHS he found in abandoned cabins or houses in the woods, so it's pretty vanilla and traditional, dare I say: eating ice cream together, watching movies, slowly dancing to some old music. He uses old pickup lines too if he feels particularly spicy.

🍰 He isn't touchy. He is touchy unless there is a sinister goal in mind or he wants to be annoying. Toby subconsciously associates touch with bullying or violence. You have to teach him to appreciate affection and kindness, and it will take you a lot of time.

🍰 Eventually, with a lot of pain he adjusts to your taction. He likes to sit next to you, shoulder pressed against yours, while resting his head on your shoulder or head, enjoying peace and silence, while you fidget with his fingers, occasionally placing brief kisses on bruises on his hand. He likes small touches. Once he learns what a surprise hug is, he abuses the life out of it. Be prepared to have mini-heart attacks when he screeches into your ear and hugs you from behind while you return from a small grocery trip back home. Other than that, his level of tactility remains the same.

🍰 His mask and goggles are also mental protection for him from the world. You notice that he takes them off when he is around you.

🍰 He is weak for compliments..even if he overthinks, in some instances, becomes angry or sad, whatever mood hits at the moment, but deep down he is squealing. He will hint at that in his own way by trying to compliment you. This is also important as at times he feels paranoid you are plotting something against him, so compliment him when you can.

🍰 Small acts, like maybe washing his bloody clothes or sewing them as they have a lot of holes, makes him intensely love you. He just stares at you, you just think he is probably hallucinating something.

🍰 Movies showed what women truly desire, so he is a gentleman, ..tries to be, so he would bring you flowers that he probably snatched from a nearby garden. Would keep the door for you, all that, his twitching, ticking, can make it unpredictable. If you're slammed by the said door on your side, trust him, he didn't mean it.

🍰 If you see him just lying down and doing nothing for days, don't try to extremely cheer him up or, goodness forbid, say "smile some more." Just be by his side, be patient. He will become cheery again soon.

🍰 He is jealous, he cares about your attention more than ever. So be careful how you act around your friends, family, or strangers if you want them to be at least alive by the morning.

🍰 His mind can be fogged by rage sometimes, so stay out of his way, he isn't in his head when he is like that.

🍰 Oh, if you have an S/O while he is in this state. No more of that S/O, maybe not you either. If anyone dares to flirt with you, no more of that person, either. You can beg Tobs to just end the lesson with a severe beating but good luck with that. He may switch his unstable bloodthirst onto you if you try too hard.

If you reach this, thank you for reading this war and peace, hope this all makes a bit of sense lmao.

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littlenastieswewhispered · 8 months ago

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i get that spike/spuffy antis have to hate season seven on principle (and the fact that they act like spike’s arc is entirely frivolous and unimportant is so wildly dismissive of buffy’s i don’t think they actually even like her!), but so many are straight up factually incorrect about what actually happens. i don’t know if it’s a media literacy issue or a choice to be obstinate. probably a mixture. when you want something to be a certain way, misunderstanding something gives you room to declare yourself right.

their main talking point is that ensouled spike forces his presence on buffy. this… just doesn’t happen even once in the season. at all.

spike doesn’t return to sunnydale to see buffy. he goes back to the hellmouth. probably because it’s all he knows, as a demon he considers it home, and not for nothing he’s already being controlled by the first who wants him in place for a specific purpose.

in the first episode, lessons, buffy comes across spike on her own. he’s at some of his most insane for this interaction, and he walks away from her. in the next episode, beneath you, buffy seeks spike out. she goes to the basement and can’t find him. he’s actively hiding from her.

later in the same episode he gets himself cleaned up and goes to her, for the first and only time. he says it’s because something terrible is coming and he wants to offer his help. he tells her if she doesn’t want him around, tell him and he’ll leave and she can revoke his invite (which notably is still active). she doesn’t. she accepts his help.

they talk while looking for the demon and buffy says she can tell something is different about him but she doesn’t know what. spike makes a point to say he isn’t going to tell her what it is. that’s MAJOR. spike does not want buffy to know about his soul. he doesn’t put it on her, and he doesn’t make it her problem. he ends up telling her only after it’s nearly forced out of him and he’s triggered back into insanity after a lucid period. after he reveals his soul, he leaves.

in the next episode, same time same place, buffy seeks spike out. he’s once again hiding in the basement, so she knows where to find him, but he does not go to her. she enlists his help that episode, twice.

the next episode is help. buffy goes to the basement to see spike. she asks if he knows anything about cassie. he later helps buffy save cassie from the boys trying to sacrifice her.

in the next one, selfless, buffy once again goes to spike. it’s a definite a pattern. buffy seeks out spike. it’s actually a lot like much of their relationship in season six, only much more one sided. she tells him to leave the basement because it’s bad for him.

the next episode, him, sees a big shift. it’s still buffy going to spike, but this time she doesn’t just leave him in the basement. she actively chooses to help him out of it, getting xander to let him move into his apartment. there’s a huge and important change in their dynamic now. they are solidly in each other’s lives, and that was and continues to be buffy’s choice.

i won’t do little synopses for each episode from the rest of the season, but from here spike offers to leave at minimum four additional times, half a dozen or more total all season.

he earnestly wants buffy to kill him in sleeper and never leave me, because he’s devastated and terrified that he’s killing. buffy says no, she’s going to help him and she believes in him. she rescues him, because she wants to, and moves him back into her house.

later on spike seems to be gaining back control of his mind, but when the first threatens him he once again says he’s a danger and needs to leave and buffy says no because shes not ready for him not to be here.

buffy wants spike in her life. she makes that fact extremely clear. maybe at first it wasn’t for the healthiest reasons, but a major theme of season seven is spike and buffy healing both as individuals and growing closer together because of it. their relationship empowers and strengthens buffy, and the final episode is called chosen for a reason. this season is about buffy’s agency. that starts when she decides who’s in her life and who isn’t.

there’s never a single moment where spike makes that decision for her. he doesn’t once tell buffy she has to accept him, or that he should have access to her. he doesn’t come around when she says to leave, because she doesn’t say to leave. he stays away from her until she beckons him back. over and over.

spike doesn’t think he deserves anything from buffy. he believes the opposite, even encouraging her to date and hiding his heartache about it. he doesn’t make his insanity and suffering her problem. she volunteers to help him.

i understand having issues with the writing choice of spike back in buffy’s life at all after what happened in season six, but only if you’re engaging with it honestly. you can dislike that buffy makes the choice to have spike around, but it’s obvious when you disregard her agency and pretend he’s the one calling the shots. you hate a story that didn’t happen, and it’s impossible take seriously.

#spuffy #btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #you’re the one buffy #i believe in you spike #btvs meta #rant full steam ahead #basically a subtweet to a particularly pathetic anti on insta #spuffy is endgame #buffy loves spike #and spuffies stay winning

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backtothefanfiction · 7 months ago

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Make Me Forget | tasm!Peter Imagine

Summary: After Harry nearly strangled you, things can never be the same again. (A follow on from Crushed)

Warnings: 18+ Only, smut, cheating, guilt, violent boyfriend, trauma, angst, hurt/comfort

A/N- I never planned on making a follow up to crushed but this just came into my head and I needed to get it out. This is a quick one before bed, but smutty because I’m trying to get my head back into the smutty game to complete some of my other WIPs. Also I haven’t written for Peter in a while and thought he deserved some love.

You: Hey…

You: Can we talk?

You: Please?

You: ….

You: Peter?

You: Please Peter, don’t ignore me.

You: ….

You: Please….

You: I need you.

It had been nearly two weeks now since the night Harry almost killed you. The night that Peter saved your life. The night you kissed him and asked you to stay. When you had woken the next morning, he had already gone and he’d clearly been avoiding you ever since.

You tried to push the whole thing to the back of your mind. Tried to play along with Harry and pretend nothing had ever happened. But ever since that night, it was like something had died inside you.

You didn’t want to look at Harry in a different light, but you couldn’t help it. Although you both tried the bruises around your neck, the one clear reminder of Harry’s little episode remained; and although you covered them with a scarf until they disappeared, you still felt them as if they were burned on your skin. Every time you breathed, it was like the scarf that covered them, grew tight and brought you back to that moment every time.

All you wanted to do was talk to someone about it. As Peter was the only other person who knew, you wanted to talk to him about it, but you hadn’t seen or heard a single word from him since that night. You dared not ask Harry about Peter either, for fear it would trigger something. So you just sat and let it eat you from the inside out alone.

In all truth, the moment it had happened you knew you wanted to leave Harry, but every time you tried to do it, you couldn’t, guilt eating at your insides like a parasite. Guilt for knowing it wasn’t truly Harry’s fault. Guilt for knowing his illness would kill him before long and not being able to make him go through it alone. Guilt for kissing Peter, Harry’s best friend…. and of course for wanting to do it again.

You: Peter, please talk to me!

It was no use. No matter how many times you tried, he just seemed to ignore any attempt you made to contact him.

2 weeks turned into 4. The bruises faded completely. Harry was trying to do everything he could to make it up to you. You knew Peter had been around because Harry began to bring him up in conversation again; but it was clear he was making sure to see Harry only when you weren’t around.

At 6 weeks, things began to turn again. Although he never laid a finger on you, Harry became spiteful again. He would rant about work. Rant about random people he’d run into on the street. When he grew extra heated you would see a flash of green in his veins at his neck or he’d smash a glass and it would take you straight back to that night. But he’d always see you flinch. Always realise when he’d gone too far… until one night, he didn’t.

“WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS?” Harry screamed, the highball glass in his hand collided with the marble floors and shattered into a million pieces. “I MEAN I-“ he said storming towards you, his finger prodding at his chest, “I!” He reiterated louder, “PAY FOR HIS FUCKING SALERY!”

You shrank back against the wall as he stomped passed you, crossing to the bar in the living room to fix himself another drink. You knew it was a bad idea to let him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him, worried it would only anger him more.

“The ONLY reason he’s still even on the board is because he was my father’s best friend.” He seemed to laugh at that. “As if you could imagine anything so ridiculous as my father having a best friend. SOME BEST FRIEND, LETTING HIM DYE ALONE!” He knocked back the last of his drink, before that glass collided with the wall. Suddenly it became all too clear this wasn’t about the guy on the board at all- but Peter.

“Harry-“ you said tentatively as you stepped forward, wanting to know what exactly had happened, but the closer you got, the clearer the green in his veins showed. When his eyes locked on yours, you knew he was gone.

“DON’T HARRY ME, SWEETNESS! WE BOTH KNOW THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!” He spat as he crossed the room towards you. “You in your little SLUT dresses! Fluttering your WHORE LASHES all over the place.”

It was like walking into a lions den wearing the famous Lady GaGa meat dress, you knew you’d fucked up, quickly trying to step back and run away before you got eaten, but it was no use as he charged at you. “Harry- stop- please!” You cried, “I don’t know what you’re taking about. I haven’t seen Peter in weeks. HARRY! PLEASE LISTEN TO ME!”

You raced around the room, attempting to place large pieces of furniture between you. To give yourself enough space to get out. At the memory of what happened before, your throat grew tight. Words began to fail you. You knew you were on your own this time. You had to get out. You needed to distract him. You used the only thing you could think of that Harry hated more than anything else lately- Spider-Man.

You made your eyes dart towards the window behind him and back again. Then you did it a second time, catching his focus before you said, “Hey, is that Spider-Man?”

“SPIDER-MAN!” Harry fumed, his anger dialling up a notch, but with his new hatred peaked, he turned his back on you to face the window. As he stalked towards the rooftop doors, ready to fling them open in search of the masked vigilante, ready to curse him out, you ran. He barely had time to realise what you had done and come back and curse you out for it, when you were already in the elevator and on your way back down to the lobby.

🕷️ 🕷️ 🕸️🕷️🕷️

When Peter got back to his apartment, the last thing he was expecting was to find you, curled up in a ball on his doorstep waiting for him.

“Y/N?” He asked confused. When you looked up at him, he immediately knew something was really wrong. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying. He immediately knew it was because of Harry. Peter frowned, remembering what had happened last time, sudden fear coursed through him. Fear… and guilt. He should have never ignored you. Never left you alone. No matter how hard it hurt to see you with him. “What did he do?” He almost snarled, but knew it was the wrong move as he saw the panic and fear in your eyes.

He quickly softened and you picked yourself up off the floor so he could get to the door to open it for you both. Neither of you said anything more until you were inside. The silence as you both made your way through the tiny apartment, Peter dumping the bag of groceries that had been in his hand on the small kitchen side, gave you time to compose yourself, to wipe at your face and the last traces of tears on your cheeks, as you took in the boxy studio apartment. You sat yourself down on the end of his bed.

“Do you want anything?” He asked as he quickly put away his groceries; a carton of milk, a box of sugary cereal, eggs and three frozen pizzas- all pepperoni. “A glass of water or-“

“I want you to make me forget.” Your small voice said as you looked down at your hands.

His hand hesitated a moment, half frozen on its way to get a cup out of the cupboard. You mustered up some confidence and stood again, moving across the floor towards him. He slowly lowered his hand from the cupboard as your hands reached for him. Your fingers clawed at his shirt with need as you came to a stop and stared up into his soft brown eyes. The only eyes you had thought of for the last 6 weeks. The ones that had got you through. You then lowered your eyes to his lips. “Please, make me forget.” You spoke to them, your eyes heavy, your need for him now you were stood before him once more growing too great.

“Y/N, I can’t. You know- Harry- I”

“It’s over. Me and Harry are done. I’m not going back- I can’t- just… please.” You said, your eyes meeting his once more, softly pleading with him. He hesitated as he stared at you, clearly weighing up the right thing to do in his head. “Please, Pete,” you whispered as your hands ran back up his sides, your eyes falling back to his lips, “please just make me forget.”

You reached up on tiptoes to capture his lips in yours. When his hands gripped hold of your arms you stopped, moving your head away. Sure he was about to push you away. You watched closely as he fought to push away, to do the right thing- but he just pulled you in closer.

His mouth was on yours hungrily as you both leaned into the kiss, your arms flying around his neck, his arms twisting around your back as he lifted you off the floor, walking you both towards the bed. As he tried to place you back down on it, you refused to let go of him, pulling him down on top of you, your tongue reaching to lick into his mouth. He tasted of coffee and sugar, far from the bitterness and whiskey Harry tasted off.

His fingers were gentle as he pushed your hair back away from your face, his fingers tangling with it behind your ears, the safety and security of his touch making you soften beneath him. The realisation made you well up and when Peter wiped his thumb across your cheek and it came away wet, he quickly moved back.

“You’re crying.” He said.

“I know.” You replied as you reach to pull him back to you.

“Wait-“ he said.

“It’s okay. You replied, they’re happy tears.” You said softly, but he didn’t quite believe you.

“Pete, please, you just-“ you swallowed away your tears, willing him to believe you, “you make me feel safe.”

“And that made you cry?” You didn’t say anything, but he could see the truth in your eyes- and it made him soften. “I’m sorry,” he sighed, as he wiped away at the trail your last tear had left behind. “I’m sorry he did this to you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there-“

“You’re here now Pete,” you reassured him, “please, Peter, I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I don’t want to think about him. I just want you,” you said, breathing the last words into him. “Please… make me forget.”

He paused for a moment, letting you know with his eyes that he understood, a silent promise that he would. He had already let you down once- had been letting you down these past 6 weeks. He wouldn’t let you down again.

When he leaned back down to capture your lips with his again, they were softer, his kisses slower, more gentle, with more purpose. Lazily pulling every little tingle, relaxing every tight pent up muscle from you, one kiss at a time. He moved from your lips, to your jaw, down your neck, your fingers curling into the strands of hair on the back of his head. He suckled and licked his way all the way down the exposed skin on your chest. When he reached the neckline of your top he stopped, moving away and shuffling himself back, his fingers reaching for the fastening of your trousers.

He paused only for a second to double check this was truly what you wanted and when you silently nodded your head at him, too relaxed, too dreamy and drunk on him, he finally pulled down your trousers and your underwear, exposing your lower half to him.

When he knelt down and parted your legs, you barely had time to acknowledge the cold air against your sex as he covered it with his warm tongue, slowly licking and kissing his way between your folds. He relished every sigh and moan that escaped your mouth. You wanted him to make you forget, but he took his time, savouring every second so he would always remember.

When he sucked your clit between his lips, your back arched off of his bed, body squirming with over stimulation, breath hitching and squeaking in your throat. He hoped to all gods it was healed enough and that you’d let him slide his cock down it later.

When he began to work two of his fingers into your now dripping cunt, curling them, begging for you to give him all you had, you sighed his name and he swore he almost came in his pants.

He seemed to drag out your pleasure for nearly an hour, building you up, letting you cool back down again until you were a pleading puddle, putty in his hands with nothing on your mind other than him.

When you whined, “Peter, please,” after your third lazy orgasm, he finally obliged, climbing back up on top of you, safe in the knowledge that the only thing you will ever have on your mind now, for the rest of time, will be this moment and him.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #andrew!peter parker #peter parker imagine #spider-man #andrew!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #harry osborn x reader

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grapejuice32 · 9 days ago

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Always Would

Soft!Rafe x Reader Warnings: dissociation, allusions to self harm/mention of scars, reader dissociates + reader struggles to eat?

Notes: just wanted to say that this is only based off of my own personal experiences with dissociation and all of the topics explored in this. This is not a clear example of dissociation in general as everyones experiences are different. Take care of yourself bbys, don't read it if its triggering and my messages are open always!

You'd been staring at the wall blankly for nearly three hours now, doing nothing but listening to the music playing in your headphones and he wasn't sure you were even really listening to it, he assumes you were using it as your own sort of white noise. He was concerned. You had a tendency to fall into a dissociative state and sometimes it could last for minutes, other times it could last for hours. During this time you were usually slow to respond to anything, often doing and saying things which you would have no awareness or clear recollection of, and when it was a severe episode of dissociation, you tended to do what you were doing now. Nothing.

"Baby?" He spoke softly, crouching down in front of where you lay in bed as he combed a hand through your hair. It took a few seconds but your eyes slowly shifted from the wall to look up at him but it didn't look to him like you were registering very much of what he had been softly mumbling. A sad smile lined his lips as he stopped running his hand through your hair to gently pull your headphones off and help you sit up. The usual spark in your eyes shielded by a dazed, spaced out one. He pushed the sleeves of your jumper up to your elbows and let his thumb instinctively run along one of the raised scars that lined your wrist. He glanced down at your wrists and then back up to your face before asking, " 've you done anything', baby?" No judgement or anger in his tone, just concern.

A frown of confusion grew on your face and you shook your head unsurely, "No I did-I, no I don- I didn't," you responded, stumbling over your airily spoken words, "Don' think so." You finished in a distressed whisper, not sure if you had or hadn't.

Rafe nodded and mumbled and calm, 'okay, baby', before he proceeded to pull your (his) jumper off of you, leaving you in a tank top so he could check both your arms fully. It's not that he didn't trust you, he did, it was that there had been occasions where you had done things and remained completely unaware of your actions until either Rafe had noticed or your mind had cleared from its dissociative state.

After checking your arms and seeing them clear of any recent wounds, a sigh of relief fell from his lips and he placed a kiss to your temple. "C'mon, 'm gonna make you something' small to eat," he began as he helped you stand from your shared bed, taking your hand in his larger one as he lead you downstairs and into the kitchen, glancing back at you in time to catch you shaking your head, "jus' a little snack. Know your head's still feeling' fuzzy but try and eat something' f'me, yeah?"

You weren't sure what happened in the moments between him lifting you to sit on the kitchen counter and him handing you a bowl of chopped fruits. After a lot of coaxing on his part, you ate about half of the fruits and it admittedly helped ground a you a bit, "Jus' have one more f'me," you heard him speak, sounding a lot clearer now than he had before, but you shook your head and pushed the bowl in his direction causing him to sigh in defeat, "well, jus' drink this then, yeah?" he compromised, handing you a glass of cold water. You drank it quickly, finishing a second glass in record time, not realising how thirsty you had been until he'd encouraged you to drink it.

He helped you off the counter and the both of you walked into the living room, you sat down on the couch and he squatted down in front of you, and now, these were all actions you were becoming slightly more aware of. You felt the light touch of his hands on your knees, vaguely aware of the way they soothingly ran up and down your lower thighs left bare by your shorts, your eyes were on his as you watched him search your face for any signs for well, anything really.

He watched as you became more aware of the way his hands were running up and down your legs and as you began to actually take in his words. He continued this process for a while before it was clear to him that you were clear minded now, "There we go. You did so well, sweetheart. Feelin' a bit better now?"

You nodded and mumbled an embarrassed 'thank you', avoiding looking directly in his eyes.

"Hey," he tutted, one of his hands leaving your thighs to hold your chin and tilt your head up so that you were looking at him again, "none f'that, okay? S' fine, s' nothin' to be embarrassed about, baby. Jus' happens sometimes, s' alright." His hand left your chin and moved to rest on the side of your face, his thumb running along your cheekbone when you began to softly nod along to his words.

The both of you were silent for a while, the only noises being the ruffling of clothes as he moved to sit beside you and pull you into his chest, the kisses he continuously pressed to your head causing a satisfied hum to leave your lips as you whispered, "I love you, so much."

He drew you closer to him, his arms tighter around you as he mumbled into your hair, "I love you more, sweetheart." You weren't always entirely sure why he loved you when he could have any, less troubled person that he wanted, but never did you doubt the love he held for you, not when he took care of you the way he did, the way he always would.

Please lmk what you guys think, I'd love to hear from you! I'll also be happy to try and write any requests you may have <3

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winchesterwild78 · 4 months ago

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The Tutor part 2

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Physical Assault-Jeff is back, Fluff, SMUT!

**Trigger Warning: Some of this features Domestic Violence. It’s grabbing an arm, face and slapping.**

A/N: Just a quick idea that popped in my head. A short series, maybe 2 or 3 chapters. I don’t know yet. No disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction. Jensen has children in this, but I do not use their real names.

Reader is a teacher and is asked to tutor Jensen’s child. Things develop between Jensen and the reader. I do not condone cheating, again, this is a work of fiction.

This chapter got a little long. Sorry not sorry. 😀 Please overlook any errors. I wrote this fast and edited it fast.

Minors DNI 18+

Weeks had passed since the shared kiss between you and Jensen. He was true to his word and nothing was awkward and he didn’t pursue another kiss. The two of you would share quick glances and an occasional ‘accidental touch’.

Mrs. Ackles had come home and you finally met her. She was kind but you noticed the tension between her and Jensen. It broke your heart. She was home for a few days before she left again. The kids were upset and Jensen seemed angry.

The holidays were approaching and you weren’t sure what your tutoring schedule would look like so you needed to talk to Jensen. After the kids were done for the afternoon and playing outside, you went to find Jensen.

You heard him in his office, and as you approached the door you realized he was on the phone. As you started to walk away you heard his voice filled with anger and hurt. You froze. “No! I want you to be home before the holidays, if not for me how about for our children? You’ve barely been home in months. It’s like you’re trying to stay away.” There was silence. As you started to walk away you heard him huff in frustration, “Fine, you do what you need to do. I’ll figure it out. I’ll see if my mom can come watch them so I can go do my job. You know the one that pays for this lifestyle you’ve become accustomed to.”

You walked back into the living room and started to pack up your things to go home. Jensen came down the stairs. He was wearing a t-shirt that hugged his chest, and gray sweatpants. You bit your lips and your thighs clenched together. His hair looked like he had run his fingers through it in frustration.

When Jensen saw you his features softened. “Leaving so soon, Y/N?” “Yeah, we are done and I figured you needed some space. I’m sorry. I overheard some of your conversation. I came to talk to you and heard it.” You put your head down, feeling a bit shameful for listening to his private conversation.

He walked up to you and placed his fingers under your chin, gently lifting up your head. “Hey, it’s okay. I could have closed the door. I’m sorry you had to hear that. So what did you want to talk to me about?” “Oh, um I was wondering what you wanted my schedule to look like with the holidays coming up.”

“Oh, well I guess that’s up to you. If you want to take a holiday break because you’re out of school too, I’m fine with that. I’m flexible.” You nodded and thought for a second. “Do you know when Mrs. Ackles is coming home? I overheard you say something about needing help with the kids, when would that be?

“Yeah, I’m not sure when or if she’s coming home. I have to leave Saturday for a few days to go shoot some episodes for a show I’m working on. I’ll see if my mom is available, so if you’re going to tutor you’ll get to meet her.”

You stepped a little closer to him, “Jensen, I can watch the kids for you if you want me to. I really don’t mind. I start my Winter Break on Friday, so I'll be available.” “Oh I can’t ask you to do that.” You touched his arm, “Jensen, you’re not. I’m offering, and I really don’t mind. I love your kids.”

He touched your arm, “That is incredibly generous of you. If you’re sure then I insist on paying you for it and you stay in the guest room while you’re here.” You stepped even closer to him. Feeling like a magnet was pulling you to him. “Jensen, you’re not paying me any extra.” He stepped closer, “You have to let me pay you for your time.”

Mere inches from each other now, you looked into his eyes, “No. You’re not paying me. I’m doing this because I want to. So you have a guest house and a guest room?” You asked. “Yes, the guest house is where we have people stay if they are going to be here for a while, the guest room is for shorter stays.”

Jensen’s hand brushed your hair behind your ear. “Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate it.” Your breath hitched at his touch, “You’re welcome Jensen. I promise they will be okay.” He took your hand and pulled you into a hug. Your face buried in his chest, taking in his cologne. Your heart racing and the urge to kiss him became overwhelming.

You looked up at him and his green eyes met your y/e/c eyes. His thumb brushed your cheek and he leaned down. Stopping before touching your lips. You closed your eyes, anticipating the kiss, but it didn’t come. You looked at him and his eyes were a mixture of desire and sadness. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t know what came over me.” He cleared his throat and released you from his arms.

Your heart ached for his touch and his kiss. “Um, let me show you the guest room.” He walked away and you followed him down the hallway. The guest room was on the first floor and down the hallway opposite the living room.

He opened a door revealing a spacious room with its own private bathroom. “This is where you’ll be staying while you’re here with the kids. Please make yourself at home, extra towels are in the closet in the bathroom.” “Jensen, it’s perfect, thank you. Is it okay if I come on Thursday? That way the kids can get used to me being here and you can be more comfortable with leaving them here with me.”

“I’m completely comfortable with you being here with them. I trust you with them, but yes. Feel free to come on Thursday.” You nodded and thanked him again.

*Thursday*

You: Hey, I’m leaving work now. I’ll be there in about 30 minutes. I already have my stuff.

Jensen: Great! I’m grilling tonight. Hope you’re hungry.

You: Starved. Can I bring anything?

Jensen: Nope, just yourself.

You: Okay, see y’all soon.

As you walked out to your car you saw Jeff leaning against it. He pushed off the car when he saw you. “Hey baby. I’ve missed you.” He tried to hug you but you pulled away. “Aww come on, don’t be like that. I think you’ve had plenty of time to settle down from your tantrum. You need to come home.” “I’m not coming back, Jeff. I don’t want you anymore and I am filing for divorce.” Jeff grabbed your arm hard, “The fuck you are! You can’t leave me. You’re nothing without me. Get in the fucking car, we are going home, NOW!” You pulled away from him and you cried out in pain. His grip was so tight on your arm. “Let me go! I’m not going anywhere with you.” He grabbed you again and pinned you against the car. His hand gripped your chin. The pain shot through your face. Your mind thought about Jensen and how gentle his touch was.

Tears streamed down your face. You brought your knee up and hit him in his groin. He dropped his grip and groaned in pain. “You stupid bitch!” He smacked you across your face, and it felt like your eye was going to pop out of your head. Blood fell from your mouth.

A male co-worker was coming out of the building when he saw Jeff hit you and ran over to help you. Jeff took off and your co-worker called the police. They came and took both of your statements and asked if you wanted to press chargers. You told them yes, so they were going to arrest Jeff. Once he was arrested they were going to issue a protective order too.

Over an hour had passed before you were free to leave. You looked at your phone and saw texts from Jensen.

Jensen: Hey, Y/N. It’s been a while. Hope you’re okay.

Jensen: Not trying to overstep, but I haven’t heard from you or seen you. I’m starting to get a little worried.

Jensen: Okay, it’s been over an hour. I’m really worried. Please let me know you’re okay.

Your heart fluttered and you felt guilty he was worrying about you.

You: Hey, I’m okay. I’m on my way. I’ll explain everything when I get there.

Jensen: Oh thank god you’re okay. I’ll be waiting.

You drove to Jensen’s house and when you pulled in the driveway you looked up and saw him standing at the door. Getting out of the car the first thing he noticed was the mark on your face. He practically leaped off the steps and came up to you. He cupped your face, “Oh my god, what happened? Are you okay?” You sobbed, the dam finally breaking. He pulled you into his arms as you stood there sobbing into his chest. His hand rubbing your back while he consoled you.

“Come on, let’s get you inside.” You followed him inside and sat at the kitchen bar. Jensen grabbed the bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “Looks like you could use this.” You nodded gratefully as you took the glass of whiskey to your lips. “I’m here for you, Y/N. Whenever you’re ready to talk.” You nodded and the tears started to flow again.

The kids came running into the room excited to see you. You turned so they couldn’t see you crying, and Jensen ushered them outside. “Guys, go outside and play until dinner is ready. Ms. Y/N and daddy have to have a grown up conversation.” “Okay daddy.” They ran outside.

You looked up at Jensen, “Thank you. I didn’t want them to see me crying.” Jensen took your hand in his and rubbed it. “I understand. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” You began to tell Jensen about what happened, and you saw his jaw tense with anger. “I’m scared. I didn’t think he was capable of that. I have to figure out what to do now. He knows where Y/F/N lives, and I don’t want to put her in danger.”

Jensen’s eyes softened and he walked around the counter taking your hand, “Move into my guest house. The offer is still on the table, and we have great security. He doesn’t know where I live. You would be safe.” You bit your lip, “I’ll think about it. I’ll let you know by the time you return from your trip.” “Okay, come here, let me look at that mark.” You stood up and Jensen turned your face to see the mark Jeff left. His eyes flashed with anger, sadness and something else.

“God, what kind of man hits a woman?” His hand brushed lightly over your face, “You deserve so much better than that, sweetheart.” You touched his hand that was still cupping your face and placed a soft kiss on his palm.

Your eyes met and the distance between you got smaller. Jensen’s lips inches from yours again. Your breath mixes with his. The smell of whiskey and mint hit your nostrils. “Tell me to stop, baby.” “I don’t want you to Jensen. Please, don’t stop.” His lips met yours in a soft passionate kiss.

You moaned into his mouth as his hands ran up your body. Your mind was racing. You knew this was wrong, but it felt so good. His lips and his hands felt so incredible on your body. Jensen softly leaned you against the door so he could lock it. Then he spun you around and led you back towards the bed.

Your calves hit the bed and you fell backwards. You giggled as he fell beside you. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe he’d hit you.” You blushed and kissed his lips.

His hand started to move against your body. You tensed a little. “Sweetheart, we can stop if you want to.” “No, I don’t want to. I just want you to be sure.”

Jensen kissed your lips and leaned back a little bit “I’m 100% sure I want this. I want you.” He pulled his shirt over his head revealing his perfectly toned chest. You licked and bit your lip. Your fingers traced down his chest. Touching each freckle and roaming over the contours of his torso.

You felt your arousal pool between your legs and soak your panties. His arousal was pushing against your thigh.

His hands cupped your breasts as his fingers moved to the hem of your shirt. You nodded and leaned up. He pulled your shirt over your head, revealing your bra covered breasts.

Jensen let out a primal growl as he took in the sight of your body. You tried to cover yourself. “No, baby. Please don’t. You’re gorgeous.”

You leaned forward so he could unhook your bra. As your breasts sprang free his mouth was on them. Sucking and playing with each nipple. You leaned your head back and moaned in pleasure. “Yes, Jensen. Feels so good.”

He smirked as he felt you responding to his touch. Jensen started kissing his way down your body. Taking his time, kissing each curve, mark and committing them to memory.

As he got to the hem of your pants his eyes looked up at you. You nodded. His fingers brushed against your zipper and button, undoing both of them. You lifted your hips helping him remove your pants and panties.

Jensen stood and threw your clothes to the side. He looked at your naked body laying on the bed before him. You were never comfortable with your body and now more than ever you hated every curve, stretch mark, and imperfections. You grabbed the blanket trying to cover yourself.

“Please don’t. I want to see your beautiful body. You’re perfect to me.” You let the blanket fall and tears fell from your eyes. “Oh baby, don’t cry.” “I’m not sad, Jensen. Nobody has ever said that to me. Not even Jeff.”

“Well we already knew he was a fool. This just confirms it.” He kissed you. His hand slipped between your thighs and found your folds. You gasped at the contact. “Mmm so wet for me.” You moved your hips trying to get more contact.

His thumb brushed against your throbbing clit as he slid two thick fingers inside your folds. “Oh Jensen” your breath hitched. He began to move his fingers faster, hooking up and hitting your sweet spot. You moved your hips in tandem with his hand. His thumb rubbing your clit as he finger fucked you.

You were close to your release, “Oh Jensen. I’m gonna cum. Oh fuck!”

Just as you were about to cum his phone rang. “Fuck! Don’t move” He growled as he stood up. You grabbed the blanket and covered yourself.

He walked out of the room and closed the door behind him. You laid on the bed thinking about what you two were about to do. His lips and touch were amazing. You wanted more.

You heard Jensen’s voice and could tell he was upset. Figuring the mood was gone, you grabbed your clothes and started to put them back on. A sadness filled your chest, realizing it was his wife on the phone. You wanted him and he wanted you, but he was still married and living with her. Could you really be “the other woman”?

After getting dressed you walked back into the living room. Jensen was leaning against the kitchen counter, still on the phone. “No, I’m still going to work. Y/N is on her holiday break and offered to watch the kids for us. She’s staying in the guest room. Are you going to be home to spend the holidays with your family? Well I hope for the sake of the kids you will be. Fine. Yeah. I guess I’ll see you next week. Bye.”

Jensen met your eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry sweetheart. I had to answer it.” You walked over to him, “it’s okay. I understand. She’s your wife and she needed to talk to you. Um, I’m going to grab my stuff. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

You walked out to your car and grabbed your bags. Your heart was heavy. You craved his lips and his touch, but you couldn’t break up his marriage. His children were too important to you. Tears pricked your eyes. You knew you had to keep him at arms length for the sake of his children.

Walking back into the house you saw Jensen in the kitchen getting things ready for the grill. He looked up at you and saw the pain in your eyes. His heart clenching in his chest.

You walked to the guest room and started unpacking. You could still smell Jensen’s cologne and his shirt was on the floor. The tears you held back were falling.

A knock on your door had you quickly wiping them away. You cleared your throat “come in” you said softly. “Hey baby, I just needed my shirt.” Your back was to him. You sniffled. Jensen was at your side, “hey, what’s wrong?” You shook your head, “Nothing. I’m okay. I promise.” He cupped your face, his thumb brushing a single tear away,”Please talk to me.”

“I don’t know if I can do this. I want to be with you. I want to continue what we were doing earlier, but I can’t be the reason your marriage ends. I love your kids too much to hurt them like that.”

Jensen saw the pain in your eyes “Y/N, please believe me when I tell you that you’re not nor would you ever be the reason my marriage ends. We’ve been drifting apart for years. I lied to you earlier. She’s not on a girls trip. She’s on a trip with her boyfriend. We are only married for the sake of my career. Since I have the “family man” image. I don’t love her anymore and she doesn’t love me. So believe me when I say I want to be with you.”

“Oh, Jensen. I’m so sorry you’re going through that. I wish there was something I could do to help.” “There is, stay here with us. Be here with the kids and me. They love you so much and it’s been amazing seeing you with them.” “I’ll think about it. I promise.”

He placed a soft kiss on your lips, “that’s all I can ask for.”

Friday evening came faster than you’d expected. After the kids were settled in bed you started to clean up the kitchen and the rest of the house. Jensen was in his office working on some things before he left in the morning. You were going to miss him so much.

After you got everything cleaned you went to your room to change into your comfy sleep clothes. You were wearing an oversized shirt, and shorts. No bra but you had your panties on.

You walked into the living room and scrolled on your phone. You came across an article about Jensen and his newest project. Your heart swelled with pride.

Then there was another article that caught your eye. It was about his wife and how she’d been photographed recently with their good friend. You assumed this was her boyfriend by how cozy they looked. Your heart ached for Jensen.

Putting your phone down you walked to his office to see how much longer he was going to be. You wanted to go over everything with him so tomorrow morning y’all could focus on the goodbyes.

You knocked on his office door and he said come in. Walking in you saw him sitting at his desk, hair a mess, gray sweatpants hugging his hips, and his t-shirt spread across his chest. Perfectly outlining his toned body. You bit your lip.

“Hey sweetheart, you okay?” “Yeah. Just wanted to go over everything with you, but I can come back.”

Jensen turned so his body was facing you. His legs spread open. “Come here darlin’” he said as he motioned for you. He put his hands on your hips and pulled you between his legs. You leaned down and kissed his lips.

Jensen’s hands trailed up your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You moaned into his mouth. You could taste the whiskey he was drinking.

He pulled you on his lap and began kissing you again. You could feel his arousal through his pants. Your thin shorts leaving nothing much between you two.

You grinded down on his erection, pulling a moan from his lips. “Damn sweetheart. That feels good.” You slide out of his lap and drop to you knees. You look up at Jensen and smile.

Licking your lips you touch the waistband of his pants and begin to pull at them. You stop, look at him and he nods. Giving you permission to continue.

Slick pools between your legs and your breath quickens. You pull Jensen’s length out of his pants and boxers. You bite your lip at the sight. His cock is long and thick. The biggest you’d seen.

You saw some precum on the head, so you lick it off. Your mouth closes around the head and you lightly suck. Jensen groans. You take his length in your mouth and begin to suck him. From base to tip, all the way down your throat. Your tongue running up his length. Jensen’s eyes rolled back in his head, his head dipped back, and his hands grabbed your hair. “Oh fuck baby. That feels so good.”

Your mouth bobbed up and down his shaft. Taking every inch down your throat. The sounds of you sucking and his moans filled the small space of his office. You were taking him in so far your eyes began to water.

“Damn baby, you’ve got to stop. I don’t want to cum like this. Fuck I need you.” You leaned back slowly pulling your mouth off his cock. When you pulled your head back there was a small string of saliva that went from the tip to your lips.

“Damn you’re so beautiful, come here darlin’.” Jensen pulled you off your knees and pulled you back towards him. He sat you on the edge of his desk and ran his hands up your thighs. Your nipples were hard and poking out your shirt. Jensen leaned down and bit through your shirt. Your head fell backwards with a moan.

Jensen’s hands kept sliding up your thigh until they got to the hem of your shorts. His large hand pressed against your pussy through your shorts. Jensen could feel how wet you were. His fingers slid between your shorts and panties, “You’re so wet baby. I can’t wait to taste you.”

Jensen slid your shorts and panties down, exposing your dripping cunt to the cool air. A shiver went through your body. Jensen dropped down to his knees and put your legs over his shoulders. He licked a strip up between your folds, taking his fingers and parting your lips. Your hands grabbed his hair as his tongue danced around your clit.

“Yes, Jens, keep doing that. Oh god that feels so good.” Jensen’s fingers entered your pussy and hooked up. His tongue flicking and mouth sucking on your clit. “Oh god, I’m so close Jensen.” Jensen lifted his head, you noticed his beard glistened with your juices, “Cum for me sweetheart. Let me taste your release.” You pushed his head back down and he licked and ate you like a starved man. A few more licks and you were tumbling over the edge.

“Oh, fuck! Jensen, I’m cumming.” Jensen kept licking, pushing you over the edge again. By the time you finished cumming for the second or third time, you honestly lost count, your legs were like jello.

Jensen stood, lowering your legs gently. His lips crashed on yours. You could taste your release on his lips. “Come on darlin’, I need you. Let’s go to the bedroom.” Jensen helped you stand and took your hand. He guided you to his bedroom. “Jensen, are you sure?” As he pulled you into the room he locked the door, “Yes, I’m sure.”

He led you over to the bed, pulling off your shirt and exposing your breasts and your naked body to the chilly air. He removed his pants and was standing in front of you completely naked.

You bit your lower lip taking him in. You laid in the center of the bed as Jensen climbed between your legs. “Are you ready sweetheart?” “Yes, Jensen. I need you, please.” Jensen leaned over, grabbing a condom, putting it on. He lined himself up and slowly pushed inside you.

You both gasped at the feeling. Once he bottomed out he stopped. His head dipped into the crook of your neck. “Damn baby, you feel so good I could cum right now. I need a minute.” You were thankful he took a minute. He was much bigger than anyone you’d been with, so the feeling was a mixture of pleasure and pain.

Jensen hooked his arms around your legs and lifted them up a little. You moved your hips a little and he started to move. Setting a slow, steady pace, Jensen moved in and out of you. Taking his time, savoring every thrust and moan he pulled from your lips.

The sound of your pleasure and his rising in the air. Jensen felt himself getting closer so he sped up a little. His thrusts become more urgent, his hands gripping your hips and yours gripping his shoulders.

“Oh Jensen! Keep going baby. I’m close again.” Your grip on his shoulders got tighter and your nails dug into his skin. “Yes baby! Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum, Y/N.” “Me too, Jensen.” Your release hit without warning, your walls squeezing him and pulling his release. With one final thrust he was spilling his seed into the condom.

You felt his cock stop twitching and he pulled out. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead as he got up to clean himself up. You pulled the sheet up and around you, laying in his bed you watched him go into the bathroom. Your heart fluttered and warmed.

When he came back to bed he pulled you into his arms. Placing a soft kiss on your lips he whispered, “That was incredible. Thank you.” You smiled, “Yes it was Jensen. Better than I imagined.” “Oh, so you imagined having sex with me?” You blushed, “maybe.” “Don’t worry, I’ve imagined having sex with you since I met you.”

“Jensen! You have not.” You hid your face laughing. “Yes I have. You looked incredible the first time I saw you. After you left that night I touched myself thinking about you. This was so much better.” You bit your lip and smiled.

He pulled you closer to him and brushed the hair out of your face, “You are so beautiful. I’m going to miss you so much while I’m gone.” “I’m going to miss you too, Jensen. So much.” “I’ll video chat at night and we can have phone sex.” He winked at you. “That sounds like fun.” You chuckled. “Come on sweetheart, let’s get some sleep. We have to be up early.”

You nodded and the two of you kissed each other. Placing your head on his chest, you heard the steady beat of his heart. As you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you felt an undeniable feeling growing in your heart. You were equally excited and terrified.

Tags are open, let me know if you want to be tagged.

Tags:

@nescaveckwriter @kr804573

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@jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

@roseblue373 @cheynovak

@jassackles @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa

@n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78

@smoothdogsgirl @hobby27

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@deans-spinster-witch @snowayumi

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@mostlymarvelgirl @i-love-ptv

@iwouldfightforfrenchie @spxideyver

@peachhiz

#hes gorgeous #so damn sexy #jensen ackles #jackles #jensen ackles x plus size reader #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles x reader

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cosmicalily · 2 months ago

Text

"to be loved is to be remembered" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist, and outline here

4. episodic memory | hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

episodic memory: a type of explicit memory that is categorised as the collection of personal experiences that occurred at particular times and places.

author's note: eeee and the series is finished!! suprisingly quicker than i expected! simply finishing a series is a big accomplishment for my adhd brain so i'm pretty proud of myself :) and having artsy hyune as the final piece after my art exam (my last exam of the year!) feels like a perfect fit. enjoy!

warnings: pregnancy (giggles mischievously)

Your room was a gallery, a time capsule of yours and Hyunjin’s love story. A collection of events, both big and small, some from the very moment, others recalled years on. Pictures from a photobooth, taken after your third date, pinned alongside a beautiful oil painting of the flowers he had bought for you on your one year anniversary. In his sketchbook, Hyunjin carried his immediate thoughts and ideas, his sensory and short term memory. A rough drawing of a handmade coffee cup he caught you admiring at a market, a sketch of an old couple that brought him anticipatory nostalgia, and many, many illustrations of you, his muse, his lover.

Whilst Hyunjin worked with a range of mediums on paper and canvas, often blending a mix into one piece, you preferred to work with ceramics. Sculptures and dishes and cups were scattered around your house, some decorational, others used on a daily basis. He loved to paint your pieces, and often your pieces became a blend of each other, something so beautiful and unique that neither of you could have created alone.

It was a warm morning in the small studio the two of you rented together. Currently, the two of you shared a two-bedroom apartment with Hyunjin’s friend, Felix, and his girlfriend, originally in order to save for a separate studio space. It was important that your home was a place for resting, and that you had an alternate space for creating. You had set it up with your kiln, a miracle secondhand market find, and Hyunjin’s easels. Whilst the studio you’d ended up choosing wasn’t as spacious as other places you’d visited, it had huge floor-to-ceiling windows that flooded the space in sunlight.

Each piece you created, whether together or on separate ends of the room, was a tangible memory of an experience you shared. Something you could look at on the wall or hold in the palm of your hand, a trigger to release a vivid recollection of a moment in your life.

Today, you worked on a set of plates. The two of you were currently saving for your first home together, after five years of dating and three of living with your friends. You wanted to make whatever place you’d be calling home in the next year or so time as personalised as it could be. Hyunjin, sitting on a chair by your clay-coated desk, dipped his fine tipped brush into a pale pink glaze, painting a cherry tree on a vase you’d fired a few days ago. You warmed the clay in your hands, dampening and smoothing and cutting as you felt the need for it, whilst Hyunjin did the same, alternating and mixing colours as the picture developed.

“You look pretty when you’re doing your thing,” you said suddenly, realising you’d been staring at your boyfriend, unbeknown to him, for a good five minutes. The clay had begun to dry on your hands, so you dipped them in the jar beside you, smoothing out the cracks.

“So do you, baby,” Hyunjin replied, his face creasing into a smile. The freckle below his lower lashes disappeared as his eyes crinkled into crescent moons, glittering in the bright sunlight.

He reached out for your hand, not caring that it was white with clay, and squeezed your fingers, painting one handed the way he usually did when you were with him. You sculpted one handed too, although this was a little more difficult on your part, and eventually you had to let go to place your plates in your kiln, along with the pieces Hyunjin had finished glazing.

The two of you washed your hands and sat down by the windows, drinking the loose leaf chai Hyunjin kept by a small electric kettle in the studio. Using one of your handmade teapots, he poured the tea and handed you a mug. You sat together, backs against the sun warmed glass of the windows, his arm around your shoulder, your head nestled in his neck.

“We’re going to make that home our nest,” Hyunjin murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“We aren’t even halfway saved for it yet,” you giggled, but indulged his fantasy nonetheless. “I want our bedroom walls to be green, dark green. Apparently it’s the most calming colour.”

Hyunjin nodded thoughtfully. “I heard that too. And I’ll paint the tiles for our bathroom; we need an actual bath, one of those pretty claw-foot ones.”

“I’ll make the tiles,” you offered, and he smiled at you, kissing the tip of your nose.

You sat together, soft jazz playing in the background, bodies against each other. The room was warm with the heat of the kiln and the brightness of the afternoon sun, and you knew, you always had, that Hwang Hyunjin, although he wasn’t your first, would be your last love.

“Can I draw something?” You asked, your head resting against Hyunjin’s thigh as he worked on a painting. You hadn’t been feeling well recently, so rather than work on your ceramics, you would sit with Hyunjin and watch him paint. He’d even put away his oils for the time being as he knew they triggered your nausea, and had begun experimenting with watercolours again.

“Of course, baby, my sketchbook’s on the floor,” Hyunjin replied, one hand slotted in your hair, gently massaging your scalp, the other holding his paintbrush.

You pulled a pencil from your bun, something you never recalled placing there, but always happened to be present, and began to sketch. You drew the white walls of the studio, sketched the shadows on the hardwood floor, and drew your boyfriend, his eyes focused, plump lips slightly open.

It was comforting, sketching. You understood why he loved to do it so much. It took your mind off the dull headache that hummed behind your eyebrows and the waves of tension in your stomach. You leaned closer into Hyunjin’s touch as you drew, adding small details and blending shadows with your fingers, until you felt it was complete.

“What did you draw, pretty girl?” Hyunjin asked, setting his paintbrush down and shifting his canvas to the drying rack in the corner. He sat down on the floor beside you and pulled you into an embrace, kissing your forehead gently. Although you felt far from pretty, your curls escaping your bun and your eyebags more prominent than usual due to a lack of sleep, you didn’t fight back, because you knew he wasn’t talking about your appearance. He always saw deeper than that.

“It’s the studio,” you replied, showing him the page.

“What’s the meaning behind it?” He asked, the way he always did.

“It’s the place where I first told you I was pregnant,” you whispered, your eyes glassy.

Hyunjin paused, not understanding. “But this sketch was right now, wasn’t it? Those are the clothes I’m still wearing.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my God,” Hyunjin turned to you, eyes wide and sparkling. “Oh my God, are you having our baby?”

You nodded, and a tear trickled down your cheek and onto your lip. He wiped it tenderly with the soft flesh of his thumb, and you kissed his finger, not caring that it tasted of paint. “I took a test a few days ago when I was still feeling crap after a week. I realised I hadn’t gotten my period in a while either. I was really, really scared at first. Because we only just moved into our own place and there’s still so much to furnish and plan-”

“It’s okay, baby, it’s going to be okay,” Hyunjin interrupted you, stroking your warm cheeks. He tucked your bangs behind your ear and nodded at you slowly. “We’ll be okay. If you’re happy about it, I’m happy. If you're not, I'm not, and we can do something about it. I trust you and your body. Yes, it’s unplanned, but for fuck’s sake, we’re artists, do we ever plan anything properly?”

“No,” you giggled. “And I am happy. Really happy. After the shock settled down, I was flooded with this insane joy, because there’s nobody else I’d want to do this with other than you. Truly.”

Hyunjin’s eyes watered. “I’m happy. Incredibly happy. Can I paint on your belly when it grows?”

“Of course you can. They’re going to be the most creative little angel, I already know it,” You smiled, resting a hand on your stomach. Hyunjin moved his hand on top of yours, linking your fingers.

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mantequillamcwhoremick · 3 months ago

Note

Why did you start shipping Bunny? What made you realize their characters had a certain dynamic you enjoyed?

Alright, story time.

My best friend is the one who introduced me to South Park and they started out by showing me select episodes from season 4 and forward, and around the time we were at like season 10ish they informed me what like popular ships exist in the fandom. Namely Creek, Style (I had already seen Tweek x Craig, it was actually the first SP episode I ever watched lmao, and I could kinda see why Style was a thing because they're best friends with lots of moments that CAN be read as romantic), and Kyman (I could also see why it was popular lmao) but when they mentioned Bunny it surprised me. Like these two characters barely/never interact on screen, but my friend just said "Trust, you'll see why later in the show." Instead of waiting to see why later in the show, the idea infested my brain and it clicked anyway.

At first it was just vibes, they seemed sweet and compatible. Let's over-articulate the "vibes" a little further; Keep in mind these are all conclusions I was able to draw about these characters pre season 14 (Pre "Coon & Friends", pre "The Poor Kid" and pre "Going Native".)

These two come from opposite ends of the family trauma spectrum; With Kenny it's neglect, with Butters it's an overly controlled/sheltered environment.

Butters is a yapper, Kenny is a patient listener.

Butters gets cut off/belittled very often for his yapping whereas Kenny isn't one to judge or dismiss.

But Butters isn't the kind of yapper who just likes to hear himself talk; he engages a LOT with whatever someone tells him, and always takes his conversation partner seriously. Kenny is rarely asked for his input, he's rarely ever even referred to directly in a room full of people, but rather just a spectator.

Based on this, I could see Butters rambling to him directly and give importance to Kenny's input and opinions, something we rarely see with anyone else. Funny that this was even confirmed to be true in season 16's "Going Native"

(idk these are just instances that kind of prove to me how Butters values & respects Kenny and his side of things, by either outright saying so or just referring to him in conversation and asking for his input that I rarely see anyone else do. This even gets driven super far in the vaccination special where Kenny is just completely and utterly patronized by his best friends & treated like their child)

So all of these things, without ever even having them seen interact, just made it make sense that these two characters were very compatible in a healthy and sweet way. They both have heavy trauma, but the ways that they cope/express themselves likely wouldn't be triggering for the other. Rather they'd kind of be good for each other to heal; Butters is the least apathetic character in the show, so he wouldn't ever make Kenny feel ignored or neglected. Kenny has seen & lived through enough shit, making him incredibly unprejudiced, he'd never even think to make fun of any of Butters' quirks he's been punished and belittled for.

As I got to the Coon & Friends trilogy and "The Poor Kid" and the whole Kenny lore bomb, something about the two of them being the most tragic characters in the show just kinda fucked my head even worse.

Picking that apart; it was kind of this underlying fact that Butters would believe Kenny about his deaths BECAUSE he's so naïve and gullible. Again, Butters would take Kenny seriously and value his input and emotions, he'd be the ideal person for Kenny to finally relieve some of the burden he's forced to carry alone. Matt and Trey are cowards for not making an episode about this like c'mon seriously it doesn't even need to be romantic

I'm not gonna get further into "Going Native" right now, mostly because the episode speaks for itself, has been probably talked about most in the fandom and kind of confirmed a lot of the things I already assumed about these characters (but if you'd like me to pick it apart feel free to send another ask), so instead I'm gonna tell you why I started going insane over them on a fandom level. Funnily enough, it was the Style-centric fic "The Scenic Route" by Hollycomb.

The coolest thing is Hollycomb actually published The Scenic Route BEFORE "Going Native" aired, and the way that they handled these characters and their relationship still fucking blows my mind. Dude, they're not even the focus of the story. They're a side story. A background ship. I'm not saying the main storyline isn't entertaining lmao but the Bunny background storyline was probably just so much more my taste I think? Especially how imperfect and messed up it started out, continued and went on. It implemented the canon fact that Kenny did kind of just not care about Butters and how his fucked up parents treat him, just like the rest of the town. Like Kenny is kind and all, but he can also be very apathetic and indifferent, and there's lots of instances in canon where the other boys treat Butters like crap and Kenny just watches it happen.

(Episodes: "Good Times With Weapons", "Marjorine", "Cartman Sucks", "Butters' Bottom Bitch" and "The Tale of Scrotie McBoogerballs")

(mind you, they're also just 9 year olds though lmao)

The way Hollycomb wrote how Kenny slowly started caring and falling in love with Butters even though he initially just intended to use him for venting about his own problems just stuck with me so hard. Like yes. That makes so much fucking sense. Kenny needs someone to take him seriously, and he doesn't need that person to be someone he cares about. He picks the easiest person available. But the slow realization that he's started pitying, then caring, and then deeply loving and wanting to help and save this person? That shit hit the SPOT.

Anyways, what I'm saying is that this fanfic was the reason I started thinking about possible ways they could get together and stay together, a lot of them messy and tragic and every bit wholesome as it is entertaining and fucked up. Kenny and Butters' traumatized asses finding comfort in each other is just something that became so special to me. I started out reading & writing Style, but whenever I tried to craft my own fics I'd always be thinking so much about what Kenny & Butters were doing and what their story is until I thought "damn dude why aren't you just writing about them instead". and thus I fell down the rabbit hole. enter chaos plan lol

This is such a tiny part of why I love these characters and why both of them separate AND their dynamic is incredibly comforting and interesting to me, and I haven't even mentioned anything about the many foil/parallel narratives around these two; Kenny & Butters as Kenny's replacement. Mysterion & Chaos. Princess Kenny & Paladin Butters. Philanthropist Dr. McCormick & capitalist scammer Vic Chaos. Especially the last one what the fuck I could write my bachelor thesis on Post Covid Bunny.

Thank you so much for the ask, anon. I'm so happy I got to ramble about my favorite little assholes <3333

#kenny mccormick #sp kenny #butters stotch #sp butters #sp bunny #butters and kenny #kenny x butters #character analysis #lucio yaps #ask

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svnaaaaaa · 1 year ago

Text

Monte Carlo : Charles Leclerc AU (Epilogue)

pairing : charles leclerc x fem reader

summary : the married life went well. so is the pregnancy?

warning(s) : another domestic!charles, progress of pregnancy (i literally have nothing to write now), pictures from pinterest

previous : part seven

next : -

masterlist

author's note : in honour of attack on titan's final episode aired, i presented a long epilogue just like how attack on titan ended its series *sobsob*. i had fun doing this series but i realized of how short the story is because i just don't know how to elaborate the story long but long stories can be boring (with my writing) at the end of the day so i decided to end it before it became nonsense lol. thank you for the support that you guys gave me, i hope you guys enjoy it from the first part till now.

tagging : (if you want to be tagged in, let me know)

recap :

"ready to be a daddy, papa?" y/n whispered as she stroked back charles' front hair to the back. "as ready as i ever be maman." charles replied, taking y/n's hand and kissed it.

10 weeks into pregnancy, y/n realized that her body is going through some changes and that being her emotions as well. her abdomen is getting a slight bloated as if she was overeating things. just a small bloating, nothing more or less. and since charles have a week off from racing, he decides to bring y/n back home in nice, france for some healing time. lately, charles noticed that his wife is having mood swings moments, where himself was afraid that something might trigger her which he assumed that his wife was stressed while he wasn't home.

"honey, you might want to slow down on those wings. it giving you a bloating tummy already." beau reprimanded as he saw his daughter savouring the chicken wings. which has been y/n's craving lately where she craved chicken wings with spicy honey glazed sauce on it. y/n who felt realiztion hits her hard, she put down the de-boned wing back on her plate and placed the plate on the coffee table in front of her as her eyes were getting tear up. charles comes in the living room and he heard his wife was getting to sob. he immediately went to her side and rub his wife's arms. "y/n sweetheart, what's wrong, tell me." charles hushed as the sobbing is getting louder.

"i'm fat!" y/n exclaimed. "which makes me ugly!" y/n continued and the crying comes in. charles sighed silently as he pulled his wife into his arms and hugged her gently, rubbing her back. "you're not fat and ugly my sweetheart, it just your body is going through some phases as you are pregnant now." charles tried to rationalized which makes beau hit with gulit. "i'm sorry baby, i know being pregnant makes you want to eat everything you want but i am just want you to be aware of what you eat. that's all, nothing harm." beau explained. y/n pulled away from charles' arms and glared at beau, which causing him to stutter and carefully walk away from the living room. y/n starting to sob again and once again, charles pulled her to his shoulder, swaying them left and right.

charles thought of how many weeks more for the mood swings to past by.

"charles, y/n, i'm sorry."

as charles making chicken pasta for dinner, y/n who is finished showering, entered their bedroom while patting dry her body until she saw the full body mirror in the room. y/n noticed something different on her body and went closer to the mirror. y/n gasped. "charles!" y/n called. "charles, come quick!" y/n called once again and as fast as a lightning, there charles was, gasping for air as he leaned onto the door frame. "what is it sweetheart, are you hurt?" charles asked, making y/n chuckled. "no silly, look!" y/n exclaimed as she referred to her abdomen, making charles look at it as well. when realization kicks in, charles' eyes enlarged as he approached to his wife's way and saw a small bump. a bump that resides in his baby.

their baby.

"you can touch it you know." y/n chuckled as charles placed his hands at the side of his wife's bloating tummy, carassing it. getting his eyes tearing up, he thought on how he can't wait to meet with the baby soon enough. "hello there little angel, papa can't wait to see you soon. i hope you are as beautiful as your maman." charles said and end it with a kiss on his wife's abdomen.

25 weeks into the pregnancy, y/n's abdomen became a bit larger than the last time she realized she had the tummy. this afternoon, pascale invited charles and y/n to her house for a lunch date. as charles went bonding with his brothers at the front yard, y/n, charlotte and pascale were in the kitchen, prepping things before cooking. since charles and y/n were the only leclerc couple that will be having a child soon, lorenzo and charlotte were more than happy to babysit the future baby before deciding to have their own baby, in order to gain some experience. "how's pregnancy treating you y/n?" charlotte asked y/n as she was washing some apples before handing to y/n to slice it up. y/n sat at the island table stool, rubbing her lower tummy looking at charlotte. "it was like a rollercoaster ride to be honest, sometimes i am okay sometimes i am not. and poor charles had to attend to all my ridiculousness." y/n replied as she chuckled at the thought of charles had to find a rabbit meat for y/n to eat it with a sriracha sauce, where charles had to made an order through amazon for the sriracha sauce.

charlotte chuckled as well. "well, he had to since he's also helping making the baby right?" charlotte asked and y/n nodded at the question. "he had to, if he doesn't want our baby to drooling once it was born." y/n said, had a thought of where her mother used to tell a story of a baby that keeps on drooling because the father wasn't able to fulfill the mother's pregnancy craving. once she told the story to charles, at first he thought it was kinda weird and dumb but the thought of having his own baby might be experience with drooling in its toddling years, he couldn't bear to risk it so he just fulfilled everything that y/n craved.

"is it really a thing?" charlotte asked and y/n shrugged. "it can be real, it cannot but neither of us want to risk." y/n replied while cutting off watermelon this time. pascale chuckled. "i also don't want you two to risk anything bad to my grandchildren." pascale informed, stirring her cookings on the stove. both charlotte and y/n looked at each other, just smiling. "will do pascale." charlotte replied. "maman, arthur's here with carla." lorenzo informed as both arthur and carla entered the kitchen and kissing pascale's cheek, carla holding something in her arms. "here i brought some desserts from patisserie riviera." carla informed, placing a box of desserts on the dining table.

y/n gasped as she holding her lower abdomen, alerting everyone in the house. "y/n, are you okay?" charles asked, rushing in to y/n's side and placed his hands on y/n's. "i-i'm fine, i guess." y/n replied in confusion. "it just, i felt something like cramp but it wasn't that hard or painful." y/n continued as she placed charles' hands on where y/n felt the flutter against her abdomen. charles' eyes brighten up at the feel of the small kicks.

"wait, the baby kicked because of patisserie riviera?" arthur asked.

amélie was assigned to be the planner of the baby shower and she planned it to be an all-girls party at a venue where charles and y/n held their wedding at. amélie also invited kika, carmen, kelly, rebecca, lily, and basically all formula one drivers' partners. the theme of the party is pastel purple because everyone doesn't know the gender of the baby. the baby gender reveal will be held at the end of the party where the men will be invited right after the party ends.

theme and cake

invitation card

dining table

backdrop

"okay everyone, gather around here as we are going to play our first game." amélie announced as she stood on a podium with backdrop that she designed specially for her future niece/nephew. the ladies started to stood in front of amélie as y/n took place next to amélie as she linked her arm around amélie's.

"we are going to play our first game, which i call 'play dough babies', where each of you will be given a cup of play dough and the rule is easy." amélie started as she pulled a trolley that have cups of colourful play dough. "each of you need to create the perfect play dough baby where our mother to-be here, will decide the winner." amélie finished and starts handing out the play dough cups. "also help yourself with props in the trolley there to add some bonus points!" amélie added. the ladies in the hall starts to get excited as the trolley were pushed into the middle of the hall and they saw things that they can get creative with.

"okay ladies, you only have 15 minutes to create the most perfect yet creative play dough baby." amélie said as she pulled out a stop watch. "your 15 minutes start, now!" amélie announced as she clicked on the timer and the ladies started to rolling out play dough according to their own ways. "so y/n, who do you think will be the winner?" amélie asked leisurely as she tried not to make things focus on the game. y/n hummed as she looked at the contestants making their babies eagerly. she eyed on kika's play dough baby. "i had my eyes on someone's but i can't tell who." y/n replied as she giggled. "oh-kay then, ladies your time have five more minutes left." amélie announced and she walked around, eyeing the babies.

"time's up! so y/n, please choose your winner mommy!" amélie announced and y/n walked around to evaluate the babies.

y/n smiled genuinely. "without bias, the winner for this round is ... carla!" y/n announced as carla jumped happily and went to hug y/n at her arm as she doesn't want to cause trouble to y/n.

five games later, at party is now almost at the end and the men now have arrived. y/n's eyes lighten up as charles showed in her sight. charles saw y/n and walked his way to her. y/n smiled at charles and grabbed his arm, hugging it. charles chuckled at his wife's attitude, stroking his wife's arms around his right arm. "alright, now that everyone is here. now is the time for the gender reveal!" amélie announced and brought in a white frosted cake on her hands.

the guests there were starting to clapping their hands, feeling excited at the reveal of baby leclerc. including the new leclercs, where both charles and y/n is fine with the gender of the baby, as long as the baby is healthy and happy. charles gripped on y/n's hand where he pulled it to his mouth and kissed on it, making y/n smiled at her husband's gesture.

"ladies and gentlemen, may i here invite the leclercs to the podium here and cut the cake to present the reveal of their baby's gender." amélie announced and then both charles and y/n went to the front, onto the small podium that amélie made, hand in hand. amélie smiled at the couple and stood a bit away from where the couple stood. "are you guys feeling excited?" amélie asked, being the great host she is. "are you expecting a boy or a girl?" amélie added. "well..." charles started, as he getting nervous for no specific reason. "we were hoping to get both boy and girl but since there is only one baby here," charles placed his hand on his wife's belly, "we are fine with any of it as long as the baby's fine and y/n have a safe labour soon." charles said as the crowd were awed at charles' reply.

"okay, it's time to cut the cake! which gender will the new baby leclerc will be!" amélie said as both charles and y/n cut the cake and the gender has been revealed, which caused joy among the guests there.

38 weeks passed by so quickly and it is time for y/n to be admitting into her labour ward since the baby can arrive soon enough. also she has been feeling mild contractions. right now, charles went off to registering his wife after they got in their ward room.

"have you thought about the name yet?" one of the nurses asked as she was inserting iv drip on y/n's arm while y/n make herself comfortable on a bed that she has been admitted. "yea, we had few names listed but the right one will comes right in when we see the baby's face." y/n told the nurse. the nurse smiled at the excitement of a new mother. this was the first time for the nurse to see new mothers being calm, despite within 24 hours, they had to push a baby out of their uterus.

"all done, if there's any discomfort or problems, please press the button here okay?" the nurse asked and y/n nodded her head yes. making sure that y/n is fine once again, she left the ward room, followed with charles entering. y/n letting out a huge huff of breath. "another contraction?" charles asked and y/n nodded her head yes. "but still, the water isn't broke yet. is it normal?" y/n asked worriedly, making charles nervous and worried as well.

he was a small child when his mother gave birth to arthur and y/n was the younger child in her siblings. none of them experience with childbirth before.

"i guess so, want to take a walk?" charles offered. y/n nodded her head yes.

the leclerc couple walked down the hallway of the ward, waiting for water to break and also for dilation. dragging along the iv drip along. "can you believe it char, less than 24 hours we get to see our little baby!" y/n said excitedly even in the midst of contraction. charles smiled at his wife's excitement and admired at how strong a woman is even if she is in labour. this makes charles respect women even more, especially his mum and wife. "we have been waiting long enough now, please hurry up little fella." charles said while rubbing his wife's stomach, causing y/n groaned silently not wanting to create chaos. charles noticed it and pulled his hand away and immediately hold onto his wife's shoulders, fearing that she might fell down or something along the way. charles looked at y/n worriedly, which y/n saw and smiled a bit. "i'm fine, it just the baby can't wait to meet you too." y/n said slowly.

and their walk ended right there, as to the dilation went from 2 cm to 9 cm. that fast huh.

charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc Presenting René Jules Valentin Leclerc. I love you my boy, just like how I love your mother ❤️

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yourusername

1,637,729 likes

yourusername rené jules valentin leclerc, reborn youthful and healthy

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a/n : the end! i didn't know how to end it so i ended it this way. thank you to all who have been supporting this series from the beginning until now. for now i would like to take a rest from writing because i have been in writer's block mode for a while now, hence the ending. if any of you have any suggestions or request, feel free to inbox me and i will try my best to make it a reality! once again, thank for the support and if you don't mind, feel free to follow me so that you will known what will i write next hehe 🩵

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