#he wakes us up with his kisses when he feels like we hv been sleeping for a long time already or when he wants to play lol

[grvntld]

bb portus' morning kisses came in extra early tahday 🌞💋🐶

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Sick Little Games: Nine

Now

Clint opened his eyes slowly. He wasn’t asleep, but with his hearing aids out, it wasn’t your walking towards him that prompted it. It was the light touch of your fingers on his shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up, worried. “Are you okay?”

You nod slowly and take a deep breath, “Can I sleep with you?”

He felt his heart flutter, and he smiled, “Forget your teddy bear?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, cheeks heating.

“Come’er,” he coaxed, shoving the quilt aside to pull you onto the couch with him. He’s dimly aware that he could sleep with you in your bed. But if that’s what you wanted, that’s what you would have said. You wanted to be here. So here he’d keep you. He holds his arms out, and you go. Snuggling close, your head on his shoulder so you can bury your face in his neck. It reminds Clint irresistibly of a little kid seeking comfort in a storm. And he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t doubt that you’ve had trouble sleeping. And been emotional. He’s seen you tear up at the drop of a hat again and again. And he has questions. A lot of questions. 

But they can wait. 

Because lying in the semi-darkness, staring at the moon out the window, he can almost understand what you mean when you say that the moon is singing as he watches dustmotes and fireflies. Because you’re here. And you’re safe. And because he’s sure that he loves you. He loves you in ways he can’t put to words. But he knows because you feel like home. The smell of your shampoo and the warmth of your breath tickling his neck. The feel of your fingers tangled in his shirt, clinging to him for comfort like a teddy bear. It’s home. This is home. And even if he never gets to do this again, he has right now. And it’s perfect. So perfect. And he never wants to go to sleep. But, like any time he wants to stay awake, there’s no running from rest. It sneaks up on him like you do during laser tag. And then, all he knows is nothing. Nothing except the best sleep he’s had in 10 years. 

In the morning, he wakes up alone, but the smell of coffee breakfast cooking gets him to his feet. He finds his hearing aids, putting them in as he wanders into your kitchen, “Hey,” he said softly. 

“Hey,” you answer, “Hungry?” You hold out a cup of coffee, and he crosses the floor to take it. 

“Starving,” he said, taking a seat at the breakfast bar to watch you work.

“I hope you like blueberry,” you say apologetically, “I bought way too many at the farmers market.”

He grins and tilts his head, “Babe, when have I EVER complained about pancakes?”

“True,” you answer, flipping a cake onto the plate and adding a couple more with butter and bacon. 

He takes the plate and groans, “This looks amazing.”

Your cheeks heat, and you don’t answer right away. Turning to start doing some cleaning up. “I’m sorry I woke you up last night.”

“I’m not,” he garbled around a mouthful of food before he swallowed, “That was the best sleep I had in forever... Forgot how good I sleep with someone cuddling me.”

He knows he’s probably making you anxious. That you don’t know how to handle someone refusing to let you feel bad. But the thing is, he hates that you do that. That you flay yourself over any little thing. And he refuses to let you. Not over something as small as asking for comfort. 

“How do you feel?” he asked after the silence had stretched on for a few minutes. 

You sigh, and he can see you weighing an answer. “It’s... weird,” you tell him. “I don’t regret my choice. But my hormones fucking do. So I can logically think about what I’m feeling but... Fuck if I can do anything effective about it.”

Clint blinks for a second. He hadn’t considered that. It just wasn’t on his radar. “That- that sounds like hell,” he murmured. 

“It is,” you say, exhaling slowly, “But- it’s for the best. I can’t- I mean. Looking after me is a full-time job... And I can’t really see Bucky helping me do little league or girl scouts.”

Clint snorted bitterly, “No. Probably not.”

He wanted to add that he would. But this wasn't the right time. You were tearing up again and trying not to cry. 

You look away for a minute, and Clint stays quiet, eating and wondering if you’re going to make a plate or if you just cooking for something to do. When you put the rest of the food away without a dish of your own, he winces, “No breakfast?” he asks gently.

“I tried a bite earlier. It didn’t work.”

Clint cock his head, “Didn’t work?”

“I couldn’t swallow, and it just didn’t taste good.”

He still doesn’t get it. It’s amazing. But then. Food was a tricky thing for you, and it had been as long as he’d known you. Sometimes shit like that just happened when you didn’t feel well. Nothing tasted good. You had to struggle to eat.  Or other times, you ate fine. There was no rhyme or reason to it. 

Clint nods and goes to wash his plate, “Well, what do you need, babe?”

“Just some time,” you tell him with a small smile, “maybe some cuddles. I came out here to basically wallow and wait for the storm to pass. Plan my next move.”

“Home,” Clint insists, “Please come home.”

“Why?” your tone is soft. You genuinely want to know. It’s not sarcastic or bitter or angry. You just want to know.

“Because it is home. Because I- Because we love you,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Because Dr. Strange isn’t as fun on missions. And because everything feels weird without you.”

You sigh, “But-”

“I know,” he said, “You’re scared to go back. To face Bucky. But you’re gonna be fine, baby girl. I’m not gonna let him hurt you. Whatever made him think this was okay, I’ll beat it out of him if I have to. I mean, hell... I think Bruce was just gonna go beat him to death. And not as the Hulk.”

You open your mouth to answer, and he puts a hand over it gently, “You don’t have to decide now,” he soothes, “Just let me be here for you. I mean. I have no idea what I’m doing, but... Please don’t just wallow out here alone.”

You wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest, looking for comfort, and he sets his plate down, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your head. “You have time,” he reminds gently, “So take it.”

You thud your head against his sternum and groan, “I can’t- I just. I knew he didn’t love me, but-” you trail off and swallow hard. 

“You wanted him to,” Clint finished, “so when he started being nice, you kinda forgot.”

“I just. I wanted it so much.”

Clint nods, “I had that. A few times. And I still haven’t learned.”

He tilts your chin up and smiles a little, “How old were you when you left home?”

“I was 12 when they threw me out,” you murmur, “I got my period and my powers in the same week... They threw me out after my stepdad was screaming at me for... fuck knows what. He was about to shove me, and I yelled, “Stop... and he did. He fucking froze mid-swing at the top  of the stairs.”

You snort, “Not even an hour later, I was on a greyhound bus going who knows where... Worst. Birthday. Ever.”

Clint smiles a little, “Have you seen anyone since?”

You shake your head, “They reported me as a runaway, but then... after a few days, everyone just kinda stopped looking.”

“You shoulda joined the circus,” Clint teased. 

“And step all over your tragic backstory?” you counter, “Fuck that. I needed my own.”

Clint is quiet for a long minute, and you sigh. 

“Sometimes,” you say slowly, “I wish my mom was someone I wanted to call.”

“You can call Nat,” Clint said, “She’s low key worried about you.” He knows it isn’t the same. But he wants to remind you how fucking loved you are. That you deserve the love, they’re all giving you. Even now. 

“I know I can,” you answer, “I could have- probably should have told her everything but-”

Clint kisses your head, “But you didn’t want to be told what to do or how to feel.”

You nod.

“I know we treat you like a baby,” he says, “But... you are. I mean. You’re a baby to all of us in different ways.”

“What about you?”

“You’re a fucking pain in my ass,” he says, grinning, “but Christ, are you cute.”

“Clint-” you start.

“I mean, I love you. I really love you... I don’t think I figured that out until you were demanding that I bring Lucky to see you, though... Such a brat.”

He smiles a little sadly, “I know you’re all heartbroken and shit. I know you probably never want to have anything to do with men again, but... Just know. I’m not laying in wait. I looked for you because I missed my friend. And if all we ever are is friends, babe. That’s all I need. So don’t- I mean. Don’t feel like obligated or anything. I mean. Lucky needs a mom, but you can be his favorite person without dating me.”

You giggle, and Clint lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Clint, you dummy,” you groan, voice muffled by his chest, “I love you.”

“I know,” he answers, resting his cheek on your head. And he did know. It was an immutable fact. The sun was going to come up, and you loved him. The way you loved all of them. And that- even if it wasn’t romantic, was no small thing. Even if it didn’t mean getting married and having babies, it was still comfortable just being near you. 

“But, he rumbles, “If you go be with Bucky after all this...”

You shake your head, “If I ever see him again, he’s gonna wish he’d just killed me,” you say. It isn’t a threat. It’s a promise. Punctuated by a casual tilt of your head that makes your neck pop. And Clint shivers reflexively. The last time he saw you do that, you were getting ready to rip someone’s head off. Literally. 

“I’m not sure if that just made me scared or Horny,” he said out loud.

And when you laugh, the butterflies in his stomach take wing.

Tags:

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[like-a-bag-of-potatoes]

Forbidden Fruit

A/N: First attempt at Sons of Anarchy fanfiction. It's been awhile since i watched the show, so i'm sorry if my characters aren't in character. This is part one of ?? I have it plotted, but not really sure how many chapters it will take to get through it. Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks to my beta @thorne93. You rock.

Characters: Reader, Opie, Jax, Chibs (mentioned) and Casey (OMC)

Pairing: Eventual Jax x Reader

Warnings: Domestic abuse, language, angst. (i think that's it.)

Wordcount: 1640

Putting all under the cut since this is primarily a SPN blog

The fist collided with your face for the second time, this time hitting you square in the jaw, knocking you to the floor. It wasn't the first time he had beaten you, but it had never gotten to the point where he used his fists before. He was standing over you, yelling something you couldn't make out over the ringing in your ear. You fought hard against the tears that threatened, but you were determined not to give him the satisfaction.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you to your feet. “I'm sorry, baby, but you brought this on yourself,” his warm, alcohol covered breath fanned over your swollen face, and it made your stomach churn. “Now go to bed.”

You didn't dare question him, so off to bed you went. It didn't take long for him to join you, the bed dipping as he crawled in next to you. It was just a matter of time before he would pass out  and you could get away from his touch, knowing that almost nothing would pull him from sleep on night's like this.

An hour passed before you slid out of bed, his loud snores assuring you that he didn't notice. You stopped in front of the mirror in the hallway as you went to get your jacket, a split lip and a massive black eye, great.

You pulled the jacket around you as you stepped out into the cool night air, lighting a cigarette as you sat down. You knew you had to get out of here, this had been going on for far too long and it was only getting worse. Casey was a good boyfriend when you had first started dating, but now he got drunk every night and his anger got the best of him. It took some courage to call your best friend up, but you had no other choice, no other place to go.

“(Y/N)?” his voice groggy from sleep as he answered.

“Hey, Ope,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. You and Opie had been best friends for as long as you could remember, but  the two of you had drifted apart a little after he lost Donna and got dragged back into SAMCRO, and of course because of Casey.

“What's up?”

“Can you do me a favor? No questions asked?” you asked. Your whole body was shaking, scared of the consequences this would have for both you and the man inside the house.

“I can't promise that I won't ask questions, but I'm always here to help,” he assured. He was loyal to a fault, he always had your back no matter what else was going on in his life, and you loved him for it.

“Can you come pick me up? I need to get out of here, now, and I don't have anyone else to call.” Opie could hear your voice shaking and it filled him with worry.

“Of course. 10 minutes and I'm there.”

“Thank you, Ope.”

You lit up another cig as you waited for him to come, hoping that Casey wouldn't wake up, hoping that Ope wouldn't beat the living daylight out of him when he got here.

**  

The ride back to his house was quiet, uncomfortably so. You had been able to hide your bruises in the dark truck, but you knew that the minute you stepped into his house, all hell would break lose.

“You gonna tell me what all this is about?” he questioned as you followed him through the door and into the hallway.

“The kids home?” you asked. This was one conversation you didn't want them to hear.

“No, they’re with my mom. Why do you…” he stopped talking as he turned to look at you. It took him a moment to take in what exactly it was he was seeing, but when he realized what had happened anger clouded his features. Opie was your best friend and you knew he would never hurt you, but the man was a giant and when he was angry it felt like he grew even bigger. He pushed past you, nearly knocking you over as he headed back outside.

“Ope, please, just leave it,” you pleaded, tired of the violence. You just wanted this nightmare to be over, for the violence to stop.

“He's not getting away with this,” he bellowed into the night, not pausing his stride towards his bike. You ran after him, grabbing his hand just as he was ready to climb on.

“Please don't go. I don't want to be alone.”

He turned to look at you, his hazel eyes softening as they met yours. You could see the struggle in his mind. He wanted to kill the son of a bitch that hurt you, but at the same time you were hurting, and you needed him. You flinched as he reached out for you, even though you knew he would never hurt you, but it had become a reflex and you couldn't control it. He pulled you into him, wrapping his strong arms around you in a tight embrace, making you feel safe for the first time in a long time.

“He's not getting away with this,” he said softly, pressing his lips to your hair.

“I know,” you mumbled into his chest.

**

“I need to go pick up the kids, you gonna be okay here on your own?” Ope stuck his head through the door to the backyard where you were enjoying your morning coffee and a smoke. He had held you in his arms through the night, listening to you when you told him what had been going on, stroking your hair until you had finally fallen asleep.

“Yeah, I'll be fine,” you assured him.

You didn't know how long you sat outside, reveling in the feel of the morning sun on your face. There was a calm inside that you hadn't felt in awhile, the knowledge that you didn't have to go back to Casey was enough to start healing you.

“(Y/N). Long time no see.” The voice startled you, pulling you out of your thoughts. “What happened to your face?” Jax asked as he stopped in front of you, his smile replaced by a frown.

“I can ask you the same thing.” You smiled, pointing to the fading bruise under his right eye. Jax Teller. You couldn't remember a time when that man didn't make your heart speed up and butterflies erupt in your stomach. The two of you had always been friends, but however much you had wanted to you had never crossed the line into anything more. “It's good to see you, Jax.”

He sat down on the bench next to you, looking at you with those piercing blue eyes. “So you’re not gonna tell me?”

“No.”

“He did this to you didn't he? That pussy you've been dating.” It wasn't really a question, he already knew. He had never really liked the guy, but then again, he never really liked any guy you went out with.

“Doesn't matter. It's done and it's over.”

You sat for a moment and just looked at each other, Jax knew you well enough to know that you wouldn't talk unless you wanted to just as well as you knew that he wouldn't give up before he knew.

“Fine.” He finally broke the silence. “Have you at least told your father?” Jax knew that the moment Chibs got a hold of this information, Casey would be a dead man.

“I'm not gonna tell him, and neither are you.”

He was about to say something else when he got interrupted by your phone buzzing with a call. Before you could reach it, he snapped it up from the table, giving you that shit eating grin of his as he answered the phone.

“(Y/N)’s phone, Jax Teller speaking… Listen to me you little piece of shit. I'm gonna give you 24 hours to pack up all of your shit and get your coward ass out of Charming, or I will personally see to it that you will never be able to lay a hand on another woman. Are we clear? Good.” Jax handed you your phone back with a satisfied look on his face. “Problem solved.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

You knew that you could have walked into the SAMCRO clubhouse with that black eye of yours and have everyone there on Casey’s ass in a heartbeat, perks of being the daughter of a full patched member, or the downside, depending on the situation.

Your dad had always tried to keep you away from the club, much to your appreciation, but there was no way to avoid it completely, especially after Jax and Ope got patched in. You used to hang around the club more when you were younger, pining over Jax, heartbroken when he didn't notice you, or when he took another girl back to his dorm. You knew that there was no way your father would ever condone a relationship between you and a member anyway, so you stopped hanging out there. And that's when you met Casey, the reason for your black eye.

“Ope around?” Jax asked, pulling you from your current trail of thoughts.

“No, he went to pick up the kids at Mary’s. He didn't say when he would be back,” you explained. You got up from the bench you had sat on all morning and stretched your hands above your head, not noticing Jax eying you.

“Well then,” he said, getting up aswell. “I got to go, but if you need anything, or if that scumbag tries to contact you again, give me a call alright?” He placed one hand on your hip and leaned in to give you a chaste kiss on your cheek before saying his goodbyes.

Tags: (I'm tagging everyone who liked or reblogged the post I made about this. Let me know if you want on/off)

@spontaneousam @michaelreaderreblog @girl-with-no-faith-in-medicine @avasmommy224 @pixellarious @spn05winchester @coldwarsagas @lucianshuman @grlwtskulltattoo @fangirltrash-25 @thatbrokengirl34 @daughterofanarchy997 @deadlystiles @karissadarling @idorkish @sxbering @svtvn-hvs-a-cvrch @bertbert08 @frozensunshine @rohz148 @whys0sinful @sparklemichele

PART TWO