Imagine:

Tom sitting like a whore, as usual, and then you get up from your seat to sit on his lap not without wiggling your butt against his crotch a little bit. You don’t look at him, but you look at the audience proudly while they are laughing and cheering, making him blush and laugh.

{ By: Anon } 

Imagine you turned yourself into a dog by accident when you got a potion wrong. Loki finds you on the street in the winter and takes you in, as he feels bad for you out in the cold and he also feels a connection with you. Then one night he falls asleep with you, a dog, at the bottom of his bed and wakes up to find a woman there instead.

Panic Cord (Tom Holland x Reader)

@what-ifsimagines : hi! idk if your requests are open but can you do a Tom holland x reader imagine where the reader can’t handle the paparazzi and their relationship (the reader and tom are dating) are in danger?! but then it ends with them staying together and lots of fluff!!

@theforbiddenwaves : Can you do an imagine where the reader and tom holland are off to the civil war movie premier and the paparazzi freak out the reader and it causes tom to lash out a bit at the paparazzi. 

Originally posted by spiderholland

You aren’t ready. You don’t know why you said you are, but you’re not. Through the tinted windows of the Lincoln car, you can see the black, looming figures of photographers. Constant flashes of light brighten but do not penetrate the dark windows that separate you from the judgments of the public. The door opens from the outside and the flashes increase in speed. Tom, who sits in front of you, slides to the side and steps out of the vehicle and waves with a charming smile before turning and offering a hand to you. With your nervousness stuffed in your decorative clutch bag, you delicately take his hand and let him lead you into the artificially lit night. 

Screams and hollers for your attention are drowned out by the insistent clicking of buttons on cameras. Tom’s arm around your waist no longer feels safe and comforting. He signs papers and posters, arms and phone cases. People shove for your autograph as well but you decline with whispered apologies. The screams just get louder.

Tom notices your distant look and sees your shaking body from a few paces away. He immediately takes action. Tom says with a demanding voice, “Back away from her,” but nobody listens. They continue to swarm your faint-headed body, the heat causing you to fall to the ground. Tom begins to push people out of your way. “Go! Go away you little shits!” he yells with aggression. When he finally gets to your body, he reaches down and lifts you into his arms. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” you insist, trying to get him to put you down. He continues his urgent walking towards the bathroom. “TOM!” you yell, “PUT ME DOWN!”

He gently puts you down, holding you until you get your balance. “I’m going to go freshen up and call a cab,” you tell him. “No, No, (Y/N), it’s fine. We can go into the theater and forg-”

“No, Tom,” you tell him. “I will not head into that theater like I did not just collapse on the red carpet because of the paparazzi. I’m going home. I’ll blame it on a headache.”

“I’ll see you at home,” he says quietly, obviously disappointed and sad that you’re leaving. You step forward into his arms and wrap yours around his waist, placing your head on his chest. He kisses your hair.

“See you at home.” you say.

“I love you,” he adds as you are walking away.

You don’t say it back.


Hey guys! I really liked writing this one. Comment if you want a part 2.

Sleeping Over

Combined request from two anon readers for a Jax x Reader using the following prompts:

#18 - “You’re warm, s'great for cuddling.“

#36 - “Woah, I never knew you had a tattoo!”

Originally posted by marip0sadahlia

Throwing yourself down on the couch, you yawn, the episodes of today wearing you out.

Pretty much all day you’d been helping Jax redecorate the house, him deciding he wanted a fresh start combined with the fact that Abel was dying for a race car bed, so why not just give him a whole new room?

You’re probably the strongest mother figure that Abel has, although yours and Jax’s relationship is only platonic. Of course, you’d love it to be more than that, but you’re not one to push, and Jax has been through more than enough these past few months.

The man himself appears from the hallway, smirking at you before lifting your legs up and sitting down on the couch, your limbs being draped across him. “Look at you, all worn out.”

“I have been helping you since eight this morning.” you remind him, your eyes flickering to the clock on the wall. “I’d say fourteen hours of work is more than long enough to tire anybody out.”

Jax whistles lowly, his head lolling back as he looks up at the ceiling, his hands moving soothingly up and down your legs. “I guess time flies when you’re having fun, babe.”

“Easy for you to say. I’m pretty sure half of your paint went in my hair.” Jax chuckles in response, your fingers pulling at the knotted strands that are splattered with blue pigment. “I should be going anyway.”

“Or, you could stay.” Jax suggests, your cheeks tickling pink as he turns on his pleading eyes and his charming smile. Pretending to think about it for a minute, you roll your eyes, nodding in acceptance.

“Guess it makes more sense, probably easier for you to put me through more slave labour if I stay the night.” Jax smiles at you, the sight seemingly more beautiful everytime you see it. “Is it alright if I take a quick shower?”

“Sure. We could take one together, you know, save water and all that.” he says, a smirk on your lips. Sitting up, you move your legs from his lap, tapping his cheek twice before standing.

“Keep dreaming, big boy.”

You walk through to the bedroom from the bathroom, humming a random tune as the smell of Jax covers you, the combination of his shower gel and his clothes that you’re currently wearing making you smell nothing but him. Moving to the mirror, you adjust the waistband of Jax’s sweatpants, running your fingers over the inked writing on your hip.

“Woah, never knew you had a tattoo.” You almost jump out of you skin as Jax speaks from the doorway, a smirk on his lips as you look over your shoulder.

“What can I say? I’m full of surprises.“ He shakes his head and smiles before stepping back and heading into the bathroom. “You still sleeping on the right side?”

The toilet flushes, followed by the running of the tap, before Jax reappears in the bedroom. “Yeah. Surprised you still remember.”

“Of course I do, I used to stop here all the time before you started being a dirty stop out.“ You tease, your heart clenching at the idea of Jax sleeping with other women. Many other women.

“Jealousy suits you, babe. You mind?“ he asks, gesturing to his shirt. You shake your head, trying to contain the flush that’s definitely crawling up your face as his toned physic comes into view. However, the knowing look in his eyes makes you think he’s already aware of the effect he has on you.

The two of you pull up the covers, slipping inside the sheets. For some people, sharing a bed with a male friend would be awkward, but for you and Jax, it was comfortable, normal.

Once he’s turned out the lights, Jax settles into the bed, the two of you facing one another, a barely there gap between your faces. “Thanks for today. Sometimes I wonder where I’d be without you.”

You smile within the moonlit room, Jax’s expression changing to a slightly more troubled one. The struggle and hurt is heavy within his eyes, the man in front of you having seen a lot more shit than most.

“Probably dead.” you deadpan, attempting to lighten the mood. You pat yourself on the back mentally when it works, Jax’s pink lips tugging up slightly. Rolling his eyes he turns onto his back, lifting his arm up and silently inviting you into him.

You comply - obviously - shifting to rest your head on his chest, his arm closing around you as you rest your palm on his chest. He sighs, content with your position, something about you just calming him like nothing else could.

“You’re warm. S'great for cuddling.” you whisper, Jax trailing his fingertips up and down your arm as you close your eyes, the melodic sound of his steady heart beat acting as your lullaby. He hums in response, a gentle kiss being placed on the top of your head.

“Abel loves having you around, you know.” Butterflies swarm your stomach at Jax’s words, your ears open and listening, your mouth not sure what to say. “So do I. Just feels right, like everything isn’t completely shit.”

“I like being here, feels like home.” you admit, placing a small, experimental kiss on Jax’s chest, his grip on your arm tightening encouragingly. Grinning to yourself, you wrap your arm around his torso, part of you wanting to see if anything progresses tomorrow and the other half wanting to stay here forever. “Goodnight, J.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).” Jax says, holding you close within his arms, the two of you drifting into the best sleep you’ve had in ages.

A/N - Hope you liked this!! I wish I had me a Jax Teller 😭 maybe without the cheating😂 Check out my masterlist if you’re new, I write mainly SOA but also some SPN! Tomorrow’s imagine will be a Chibs x Reader! ❤

2

Imagine Logan not-so-discreetly touching your butt every chance he gets when you’re wearing a dress he likes on you.

**Based off of Die A Happy Man by Thomas Rhett**

You stifled a yelp as Logan’s hand once more came into contact with your rear, shooting him a shocked look, “Logan, stop!” you whispered, your cheeks flushing crimson.

He just chuckled, hooking his arm your waist and pulling you against his side, “I can’t help being an anima, baby. And I thought that red dress was enough to bring me to my knees, but that black one makes it hard to breathe.” he teased. “Besides, last night was hands down one of the best nights of my life.”

Your blush deepened and you ducked your head. “Keep your voice down. We’re in public.”

Logan grinned and hooked a finger under your chin. He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to your lips, surprisingly gentle. “I don’t care. I know that I can’t ever tell you enough that all I need in this life is your crazy love. If all I could ever do was hold your hand in mine, I could die a happy man.”

Gif Credit: Logan

Things I imagine married Hiccstrid to do...

- Cook together (Hiccup teaches Astrid a few tips)
- Have personal dragon races with each other
- Go swimming at the cove in their underwear or naked
- Braid each other’s hair
- Take baths together
- Wash each other in the bath (usually just hair and back, but sometimes more if they’re in the mood)
- Play in the snow together (dragon sledding races?)
- Astrid wears Hiccup’s tunic around the house
- Hiccup sometimes walks around shirtless in the house if it’s hot (and Astrid definitely doesn’t mind)
- Stay up late talking in bed until one of them finally falls asleep
- Have piggyback races with their kids (whoever can carry the kid to a certain point first wins)
- Hiccup teaches Astrid to draw
- Astrid teaches Hiccup to throw an axe
- Astrid helps Hiccup in the forge
- Plan chiefing stuff together (Chief and General?)
- Give each other piggyback rides (yes, Astrid can lift Hiccup)
- Massage each other (especially when they get older and are extra sore)
- Go on spontaneous adventures (provided someone can watch the kids)
- Cuddle…a lot
- Hiccup kisses all Astrid’s scars (and later, the stretch marks on her tummy from having kids)
- Ride each other’s dragons
- Make love in creative places (like the dragon stables)
- Astrid takes care of Hiccup’s wounds (she won’t let him touch hers, she’s too stubborn)
- Watch sunsets/sunrises
- Go to tribe meetings together
- Surprise each other with things
- And basically just be dorks together

Hi… my pet just died and I was wondering how Newt, Draco, and the Weasley Twins would comfort/cheer up their s/o.. Thanks.

Originally posted by caryfry

Newt has sadly dealt with this a lot over the years, he probably understands better than anybody just how close you and your pet were. He’d bring you a hot cup of sweet tea, with your favourite biscuits, before bundling you up and letting you cry into his shirt front, murmuring softly about the silly and sweet things that your pet used to do. 

Originally posted by imagine-everything41

Draco never really knew the joy of having a pet, but he understood how much you loved yours. He’d sit with your head on his chest, quietly stroking your hair, humming lightly, until you drifted off to sleep.

Originally posted by theraddivision

Fred would bring you a bar honeydukes chocolate, trying to cheer you up by reminding you of all of the funny memories you and pet had together.

Originally posted by victorianstory

George would bring you a mug of hot chocolate, and snuggle you into him, letting you sob or just lay there with him in the peaceful quiet, when you were ready to talk he was there to lend his ear.

 

Have a great day and be safe

Master list

@fiddlesticksimagines

Protected | R.M.

Summary: Reggie Mantle grew up protecting what he loved.


I miss you.

You received the text on the first day of school, the instant your baby pink ballet flats maneuvered within the halls of Riverdale High, which were marginally filled with mayhem from everyone’s first day jitters.

Well, not everyone. You, despite your extra pretty face, extra shiny curls, and extra preppy outfit, wore a heavy façade that drooped lower than the Maybelline Fit Me-concealed eye-bags that were situated below your unexplained, cheery eyes that tried to greet everyone with much positivity as possible. As everyone knew your perfect reputation, the happy-go-lucky cheerleader that everyone admired and loved since the day you entered high school. It was never tarnished, so you refused to let a silly break-up move it at all.

You took out your phone and shakily gazed down at the message. It was sent in clear, with no emoji’s or silly grammatical errors. Your nervous fingers moved for you, but your brain was being silly that day and it had no planned response for the text message.

A wave of students accidentally crossed and one of them partially collided against your hardly five feet tall physique, which was a thankful jolt that rattled you off from replying to the text message. You squeezed the iPhone tightly, bearing no mind of the glittery fake diamonds from the phone case bearing harsh indentions against your palm.

The moment you were able to fix your locker and lock it behind you, you immediately set off to find a seat in the gym—hoping that an early departure from the first day madness would create a false sense of comfort from your inevitable fate, which was meeting your ex-boyfriend again subsequently after a summer of trying to forget all about him.


Everyone had always said that you were perfect for Reginald Mantle.

You were a girl blessed with your father’s dominant sloped nose and your mother’s graceful and tiny, ballerina body. Being the only child meant being under the revolving gaze of your mother and father’s watchful eyes twenty-four/seven, and you grew up to be accordingly limpid; yet, at the same time pretentious for you were the heir of one of the wealthiest families in Riverdale.

Reggie was a boy meant for you even before you knew what he was supposed to be. He was a constant person in your life, a fixture caused by your parents and his parents’ meddling. Though, despite your unending play times together and a hired tutor that taught you and him up until you were in middle school, Reggie and you grew up in different paths, in different aspects.

You and Reggie were in the opposite sides of the spectrum. Nevertheless, you were inexplicably drawn to him. He was exactly the same as you, but as the same time, so, so different.

He was difficult to figure out. He had pushed children off swing sets and had hogged all the toy cars to himself as he disliked sharing. You hated the smirk on his face when he teased his inferiors, and still you loved him when he kissed you goodnight. He’d hold you in the softest way possible, muscled arms entrapped around you with touch as light as a feather, and similarly he’d used the same arms dangerously with heated intent at someone else.

You never got why people often told you that he was perfect for you. He was, in your point of view, a mixture of positives and negatives. He was your opposite.

The thing about opposites was that when a unity occurred, it would be a co-existent dependency that held itself with tension.

You loved him more than he loved himself. That was probably the reason why the balance wasn’t right and he pushed himself off, leaving you in the dust.


“Are you alright?” Surprisingly, Cheryl Blossom would be the first person to question you that today. The said Blossom stood above you, her red curls down the right side of her chest, a hand on her hip and a raised eyebrow. You tried to hide the flinch that came with Cheryl’s edged tone, but she assumingly noticed it since she took it herself to sit next to you on that noisy lunch table.

“Talk to me,” she demanded. “I don’t want anyone on my squad to be sadder than my supposed star quality. You cannot rain on my parade on this week’s performance.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered as you picked on your salad.

“[y/n], a stupid boy doesn’t have the right to state your mood status.” She hissed. “There are 7 billion people in the world. God knows how much boys will there be after your life post-Reggie Man—“

“Damn, Cheryl,” You stood up. “I said I’m fine!”

Your words were a little too loud, and laced with anger. The whole open-lawn cafeteria went into a full pregnant pause from your little burst and your eyes betrayed you as it went to a familiar face that you couldn’t just let go off. His smirking, never ceasing, hardly-caring face wavered slightly as he looked your way, as everyone had. He looked down once before pushing his left foot off benched on the seat and faced in the opposite direction, going back into a conversation with Chuck Clayton.

You couldn’t care less what that meant and you sped off from your table, grabbing your cellphone with you. Opening the text message up on your interface, your quivering fingers typed out a reply before hitting send.


“I thought you said I couldn’t see you again,” the tall and handsome boy chuckled as he sat coolly on the stools that they had in Pop’s. His tousled, brown waves would shine into a blondish side under the neon lights of Pop’s infamous signs, and his pretty blue eyes would turn your messy head into a complete haze of white noise. “I missed you,” Jackson voiced out, echoing what he had recently texted you that morning.

It was seven in the evening, and mostly everyone had this night tacked to watch the last screening due for the closing Midnight Drive-In. You had thought to go but you knew that it would simply be another place that would haunt you again with memories that happened in the arms of a familiar stranger.

“I couldn’t resist,” you whispered zealously, biting your lip, then striding towards him until both of your faces had no space with each other. He kissed back passionately, and you followed along in accord, ignoring the way your heart bleated in a monotonous fashion, like it was a routine you followed every morning. Fingers tracing down his rugged, jean jacket, you stopped as it went to a tracing on his arm. A tattoo of a dangerous serpent.

“Watch it,” he pushed himself off you and went to slip down his sleeves. “Any good ‘ole folk wouldn’t wanna see that snake on a young thing’s skin.”

“A young thing, huh?” You titled your head, letting him caress your cheek. It made you feel like being touched by an intruder. You held your tongue from stating that out loud. “I heard that your buddies are over at the drive-in tonight.”

“—yeah,” the handsome, rugged boy agreed, holding your hand like a whisper. “But you’re much better than any movie, let’s agree. Pretty and innocent [y/n][y/l/n].”

“If my father saw you with me,” you told him with a trace of a smile hinting on your lips while leading the boy down to a booth. “He would freak,” you ended with a pendulous but crude smirk, as the feeling of going behind your parents’ back often created a brilliant feeling of teenage rebellion.

However, the light that would go unperturbed that night beneath the luminescence of you with the boy from the Serpents would go back unlit as a sudden burst of unexpected customers walked in the empty Pop’s.

It was a famous group of blue and yellow hues, the king, the boy in between the boisterous and rowdy laughs, and you couldn’t help but shake as his eyes immediately turned toward the serpent and your contumacious self.

“[y/n]?” Reggie Mantle took it upon himself to breeze through the rows of booths with a face of disbelief, his voice rising. And as you expected, anger rising as his comical face slowly slipped to stone cold when his eyes landed on the lingering fingers of the serpent teenager on your arm. “Who the hell is he?”  

“Fuck off, Reggie,” you glared, bringing yourself to whisper to your current partner beside you, “Ignore him.” You tried your best to act a casual as possible, though the sudden racing of your heart that went with the way your ex-boyfriend stared at you in a mix of hardening confusion and indignation.

The other football players were left in a fit of widening eyes as Reggie, in impulsion, went and grabbed your arm in fury, “I’m taking you home.”

And it was a laughable scene, provided that you have been in witness in a circumstance like this before; on the contrary, you were always behind him before, supporting him like a good girlfriend. Until now.

Reggie showed the chaos within him through the bones between his knuckles—several scars made proof of that. Now, you were his enemy, the one that caused the fire beneath his eyes. The booths made a guarded ring.

“What the hell, man—“ The serpent boy scoffed before Reggie snapped and gripped and landed a good punch with no regret on the other boy’s face. That started a full-blown fight, which lead pandemonium where Moose, Chuck, and several others hurriedly tried to pull the Asian off the other boy. Reggie’s blows were pernicious, and over the yells of the football team trying to stop the fight, the only thing you could do was watch everything in horror.


“—fighting on public property, what on earth caused you to do that?!” And Mrs. Mantle let out a startled shriek and tried to shield her son as Mr. Mantle gave a tumultuous slap on Reggie’s already bruising face. You gripped your jacket, feeling the cotton and thinking of it as abrasive as hooves, guilt going off you in waves as the only thing you could do was watch the aftermath unfold in the Mantle estate, where you had been protectively ushered off to with your parents and Sheriff Keller due to Pop’s emergency dial.

“This is getting out of hand,” Reggie’s father continued, a harsher than stern look on his purple face. Yanking back his hand, his gaze shot to you, which you couldn’t bear to hold longer than a second. “This boy has been nothing but trouble this year—I swear, this was the last straw, Reginald. I need to ship him to board—“

“It was my fault,” you found your voice, hurried and not gentle at all—willing to cross out the guilt killing your tightening chest. Your parents’ tension-heavy faces whipped their heads to you, their protected daughter that could hardly do no wrong in this world. “I came there with Jackson—“

“No, I fought him, she had nothing to do with th—“ Reggie hastily claimed, harsh and scarily void of emotion. He was seemingly too callous from responding to his father—and you had realized that this could have been happening more so than none and that this boy could have grown up this way, and while your heart was pouring from hearing him protect you, you knew that it was your call to turn things around.

“No,” you squeaked, hearing yourself panic. “I guess I was being rebellious, I met up with Jackson, and – and- “ You eyed your father. “He was with me and Reggie saw me and Jackson did something and he got provoked,” you finished, lying. You looked at Reggie, and he gazed at you, turmoil and hurt swirling in his eyes.

That led to a tension-filled silence. You closed your eyes, and could hear the sounds of Reggie’s father’s footsteps going off to a direction. Somewhere that’s not here, of course.


“Sorry, that shouldn’t have happened,” he would tell you days later, smirk latched to his lips like a boy to a candy bar. He’d say it would no feeling, no emotion, as if he wasn’t someone that was in what happened and he was merely a person who’d heard of what happened.

The memory of his father slapping him because of you would haunt you forever, and your eyes would wander to his cheek not due to any romantic purpose, but the ache of wondering how much it hurt to protect you, a person he shouldn’t even be caring for anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you ignored his first statement, and spat out what you needed to say. The hallways were empty. “I was being petty. I wanted to—“ The words were dignified to be stated out in the open. “I wanted to forget about you.”

His silence mocked you. The 6’3 handsome and usually word-y jock—the boy you really, just really, really loved, gazed at you as if your turbulence, though with a slip of concern on his façade. You continued, lips burning with words you only imagined you would say in a dream, “You hurt me, Reggie. I hated you for making me spend a summer without you. So, yeah. I did something. I slept with that douchebag, that serpent, just to forget about you. So, fuck you.”

The response was instant. An utter storm shadowed over his face. “Fuck me? Fuck me? Are you fucking kidding me?” His fingers wrapped tightly around his coifed hair, eyes blazing with chasms of void and anger. “The only thing I ever did was goddamn protect you! If you hadn’t been so stupid, you wouldn’t be in this mess. I shouldn’t have protected you from the start if it was going to lead this way.”

“Protected me from the start?” You questioned, beckoned with hatred.

“Yes! I’ve always been protecting you. I love you, [y/n]. So much. The reason I ended things is because you were going to end up broadcasted on this shitty book and—“ Reggie sighed and you looked at him confusingly. He stepped forward, “Look, last year I was in hell. My dad caught me doing some stupid shit and he was going to blame it on you. I needed to protect you, it was instinct. I had to break up with you because I couldn’t bear the guilt that—“

This time, it was your turn to slap him. Reggie snapped his head back at you, shocked.

“You stupid jerk,” your body shook from relief and at the same time, numbness. “You couldn’t have at least told me about that? I literally cried for a week because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you, the great Reggie freaking Mantle.”

Reggie stared at what only could have been eons, before shaking his head and returning a soft gaze that was only for you. “I’m sorry.”

You could shake your head as he placed out his warm hand next to yours, swirling and wrapping it around yours in the gentlest way possible.


It was an epiphany, when you looked at him and you had finally seen a glimpse of an extent that he would do for you. The balance was off and you had thought of it in the wrong way.

He loved you more than he loved himself.


omg i’m so sorry. whenever i write i’d always get so carried away with excessive details and annoying character musings!!! please tell me what you think! feel free to reblog or like or message me! always open to hear what you guys think huehue. :) 

Third Love

Originally posted by sonsofanarchy-jaxteller

Originally posted by bellamyhalpert


Request: Imagine dating Jax for a while, Tara comes back and you and Jax fight.


PART TWO COMING 😘

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


“It’s been said that we really only fall in love with three people in our lifetime.
Yet, it’s said that we need each of these loves for a different reason.
Often our first is when we are young, high school even. It’s the idealistic love; the one that seems like the fairytales we are all read as children.
It’s a love that looks right.
The second is supposed to be our hard love; the one that teaches us lessons about who we are and how we often want or need to be loved.
Sometimes it’s unhealthy, unbalanced or narcissistic even.
It’s the love that we wished was right.
And the third is the love we never see coming. The one that usually comes dressed as all wrong for us and that destroys any lingering ideals we clung to about what love is supposed to be.
It’s the love that just feels right.
Maybe we don’t all experience these loves in this lifetime; but perhaps that’s just because we aren’t ready to.
Possibly maybe we need a whole lifetime to learn or maybe if we’re lucky it only takes a few years.
And there may be those people who fall in love once and find it passionately lasts until their last breath.
Someone once told me they are the lucky ones; and perhaps they are.
But I kinda think that those who make it to their third love are really the lucky ones.
They are the ones who are tired of having to try and whose broken hearts lay beating in front of them wondering if there is just something inherently wrong with how they love.
But there’s not; it’s just a matter of if someone loves in the same way that they do or not.
And maybe there’s something special about our first love, and something heartbreakingly unique about our second…but there’s also just something about our third.
The one we never see coming.
The one that actually lasts.
The one that shows us why it never worked out before.
And it’s that possibility that makes trying again always worthwhile, because the truth is you never know when you’ll stumble into love. ”

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

You pulled into the Teller-Morrow lot and parked in your usual spot before sliding out of your seat and closing the car door behind you.
The night was warm and the air was crisp, the sun slowly beginning to set and you walked across the lot, thinking to yourself how thankful you were to live in a place like this.
Your footsteps echoed through the quiet lot, almost silent except the faint music coming from inside. The row of bikes was a welcome sight and you headed straight for the clubhouse doors.
There was nothing quite like the smell of the Sons of Anarchy clubhouse and it welcomed you every time you opened those doors; a mix of cheap perfume, leather and cigarettes.
And for the last two years, this place had become your home.
Dating Jackson Teller wasn’t easy, but to be honest you didn’t want easy. Nothing worthwhile ever came easy and for you, Jax was worth the world.
You saw him almost instantly, sitting casually at one of the tables, a beer in one hand and a cigarette pressed between his lips, his blonde hair slicked back from his face.
A smile spread on your lips as you neared him and when he saw you approaching his face lit up.
“Hey darlin,” Jax greeted you and gave his leg a pat, gesturing for you to sit.
You obliged and sat in his lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulder before kissing his lips gently.
“Hey yourself.”
Chibs and Tig were sat at the table also and they both greeted you warmly.
“How was your day?” You asked, absentmindedly playing with the folds of leather on his kutte.
“Busy.” Jax smiled at you.
He knew you weren’t digging for information on the club, you were just generally interested in how his days went and he admired you for not pressing him for details.
You began to chat about your day, Jax asking you questions about work and neither of you noticed Chibs and Tig leave the table.
Conversation always flowed easily between the two of you and even when you weren’t speaking the silence was comfortable.
“You ready to head home?” You asked, stifling a yawn.
Jax took a swig of his beer before speaking.
“I’ve gotta wrap up some Club stuff,” He told you, shifting uneasily in his seat. “I might be late tonight babe.”
You nodded and smiled. “Well I’d say I’d wait up but I doubt il be able to.” You said as another yawn came over you.
Jax smirked and kissed you deeply.
“I love you, (y/n).” He told you, his voice serious.
You thought nothing of it and smiled back at him. “I love you too.”

~

The singing of the birds outside your window woke you before your alarm did, and you were thankful. The sounds of nature were a much more pleasant awakening then the nagging beeps of your alarm clock.
You stretched your arms out and instantly noticed the empty spot beside you.
You frowned slightly.
It was unlike Jax to not come home. Even when he stayed late at the clubhouse he always made his way home, knowing that you worried when he wasn’t beside you.
You checked your phone but saw no messages or calls from him.
‘He probably crashed at the clubhouse. It was a busy day after all.’ You told yourself and headed for the shower.
After showering you pulled on your ripped black jeans and a grey tshirt and tied your hair loosely on top of your head before heading to the kitchen for breakfast.
It wasn’t your day off, but you only had two meetings today so you didn’t need to head into the office til around lunchtime.
You threw some bread in the toaster and made up a pot of coffee.
It wouldn’t hurt to pop in to the clubhouse, you thought. Jax might have already headed out for the day but there was still a chance he’d be there and you wanted to ease your mind before heading into work.
You quickly had your breakfast and tidied up the kitchen before grabbing your keys off the counter and heading for the door.
Your house wasn’t far from TM and the drive there passed quickly.
The lot was coming alive for the day, some of the guys around the picnic table, some in the garage working on bikes and you could see Gemma in her office.
You parked in your spot and got out of the car.

“Mornin’ lass,” Chibs called from the table.
“Morning!” You smiled back.
You’d always gotten on well with him and he always made you feel welcome.
“Jax inside?”
“Aye, he’s in his dorm.”
You thanked him and kissed his cheek before heading inside.

Jax was exactly where Chibs said; sitting at the desk in his dorm, cigarette between his lips, writing in that notebook he always clutched so tight.
You leant against the door, unwilling to disturb him. You liked watching him write, he always looked so focused, like he was writing the secrets of the world. You never asked what he was writing, never wished to read his words; you didn’t need to.
He had always been open with you and you’d never had secrets between you. However something didn’t feel quite were.
You let him write in piece for another minute before you rapped on the door lightly.
Jax lifted his head and smiled before blowing out his smoke and putting out the cigarette in an ash tray.
“Mornin’,” Jax saidnas he stood and walked towards you.
“Long time no see, Teller.” You smirked.
You were pissed he hadn’t come home and hadn’t bothered to text you, but damn with a face like that you could never stay mad at him for long.
Jax smirked and ran a hand through his hair.
“Sorry babe.”
You raised an eyebrow and laid your hands on his shoulders. His hands held your waist gently.
“That’s all I get?”
“I’ll make it up to you?” He offered, a playful hint in his eyes.
You laughed lightly.
“You sound so sincere.”
Jax smirked at the sarcasm in your voice and kissed you softly.
“I’m sorry babe.” He told you again.
This time you nodded and smiled.
“Just come home tonight.” You told him.
Jax nodded and you kissed him once more before turning away.
“See you at home. For dinner.” You called over your shoulder
“I’ll be there.” Jax watched you leave, a content smile on his lips as he watched you walk.

~

The house was so silent that you swore you actually heard the clock tick over.
9 O'clock.
And he still wasn’t home.
Your fingers rapped at the table impatiently.
Fuck it. You thought. You hadn’t heard from him since you had left the clubhouse earlier this morning and after not coming home last night you were pissed.
He could have at least had the decency to call.
Now, dinner had gone cold and you didn’t really care; you always lost your appetite when you were angry.
You glanced at the clock once more before grabbing your keys, pulled on your boots and marched to the door.
You drove fast, barely stopping at the red lights and stop signs on the way and the tyres screeched when you pulled into the lot.
Tig and Happy were sat outside and they eyed you curiously as you slammed the car door.
“Everything okay doll?” Tig asked as you stormed across the lot.
“Just fucking peachy.” You said.
Tig nodded slowly and backed away, arms raised and you sat back at the table with Hap.
You glanced past the dozen men scattered around the clubhouse, searching only for one.
Juice was walking towards you, pulling a pack of smokes out of his pocket as he walked.
You spotted Jax, sitting on one of the sofas, a pretty brunette beside him. She wasn’t a crow eater, that was obvious but you still felt a pang of jealousy when you saw Jax smile at her.
“Juice, who’s that?” You asked as he neared you.
He glanced around the room, following your gaze and stopped awkwardly when he saw who you were meaning.
“Uhh I’m not sure (y/n).” Juice said and rubbed his neck.
You crossed your arms and glared at him.
He sighed.
“It’s um. Tara.” He told you and flashed you a sad smile before squeezing your arm and walked past you.
You nodded slowly.
So this is why Jax had been acting strange; Tara was back.
Goddamit. You knew about her, he had told you, Gemma had told you, hell half the fucking club had told you.
She was his first love, the first girl to break his heart. It had been years since she’d left town and you hadn’t ever imagined she’d come back. You’d had a hard enough time adjusting to Wendy being around, but you’d come to realise there was nothing left between her and Jax.
They had been toxic for each other, and they only kept in touch for the sake of Abel. She wasn’t a threat and you’d actually grown to like her.
Tara was different.
You’d never met her, you’d only moved to town two years after she’d left but you knew how much she had meant to him. And the fact that he had practically ignored you didn’t sit right.
A part of you wanted to storm across the room, slap the bitch right across her cheek, and rip Jax into shreds.
But you didn’t.
You turned around slowly and walked back to your car.

~

It was 2.37am when Jax pulled into the drive way.
He parked his bike and swung his leg over before resting his helmet on his handle bars and heading towards the front door.
The kitchen light was still on inside and he walked slowly, his head hung low.
His footsteps were light as he walked up the steps and he opened the door slowly and closed it before him.
His shoes thumped against the carpet as he licked them off and he pulled the leather off his shoulders and laid it over the back of a chair before heading into the kitchen.
He stopped in his tracks when he saw you sitting at the table, a half bottle of whiskey and an empty glass in front of you.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “You’re still up.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
He nodded slowly and fumbled with his rings before pulling out a chair and taking a seat opposite you.
“I’m sorry I’m late babe, things with the club have been.. busy.”
You nodded and lifted the bottle of whiskey and poured some into your glass.
Jax sighed and rubbed his hands over his face.
“It won’t be like this all the time darlin, things have just been busy. It’ll die down soon and I’ll be-”
“I came to the clubhouse.” You interrupted.
Jax stopped, his blue eyes fixed on you but you didn’t meet his gaze.
You twirled the glass in your hand, letting the whiskey swirl around before taking a sip.
“How longs she been back, Jax?”
He was silent for a moment before he spoke.
“A few days.” He told you.
You nodded slowly, your face cold.
“Do you love me?” You asked.
Jax reached across the table to grab your hands but you pulled them away.
“I do, (y/n). I love you.”
“Do you love her?” You took another swig.
Jax sighed. “Look it’s not that simple, I-”
“Yes or no.” You interrupted.
His gaze lingered in you but you only stared at the glass in your hands.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you, (y/n).”
You scoffed. “Then what the fuck does it mean, Jax?! You blow me off cause your ex is back in town?”
“I needed time to think.” Jax said, his voice calm.
“To think?!” You yelled. “To think about what, Jax?! She left you! It’s been ten fucking years! But you need to think about it?”
“I didn’t think I’d see her again, it threw me.”
You scoffed and downed the rest of your glass.
“I was gonna tell you, I just needed to figure thins out. Me and Tara, we got a lot of history.”
“What did you need to figure out Jax? You’ve moved on! You’ve moved on with me! Or have the last two years meant nothing to you?!”
“Of course they meant something!” Jax yelled back. “I love you!”
“Bullshit!” You threw the bottle of whiskey at the wall behind him, barely missing his head and the glass shattered to the floor.
“If you loved me you wouldn’t have blown me off to see her! You would have told me straight away! You wouldn’t have lied to me!” You screamed, your fists shaking with rage.
“I am no ones second choice, Jackson.”
You grabbed your keys and pushed past him, heading for the door.
Anger was seething through you and although you could hear Jax yelling after you you couldn’t make out his words.
The rage was blinding, and you didn’t notice your knuckles whitening as you gripped the steering wheel.
You didn’t notice the row of flowers you crushed beneath the tyres.
You didn’t notice the tears streaming down your face.
You didn’t notice the red light beaming in the street.
You didn’t notice the truck.
No, you didn’t notice it. Not til it hit the side of your car, and everything went black.

Yes, yes, I know,I’ve got an inbox bursting. However, @tyranttortoise has been feeling a little under the weather, and made a post about wanting an imagine about UF!Sans caring for a sick S/O. So, in order to pay them back for those kickass insomnia headcanons they did for me and get me back in the swing of things, I am happy to oblige. I might do Stretch later, but this turned out a bit long.

No use dancing around it. You felt gross as fuck. The vomiting had slowed down about an hour ago (long enough for you to stagger to the bathroom to get rid of the latest leavings of your stomach), but your face was still shoved into the bucket and you remained on high alert for any digestive movements not immediately sanctioned. You hadn’t showered in two days and you looked it, your hair somewhat greasy and your body sweaty. Around the room were plates that had contained toast you’d managed to find the energy to make but not clean up for.

Flu season always hit you hard, and your one comfort right now is that nobody was around to see you-

“doll? you here?”

Well, you supposed even thinking that had been tempting fate. “Red, what are you doing in my house?”

There was a low chuckle as the door closed. “do i have to have a reason now to want to see you?” You could hear his footsteps, slow but sure, in the living room. “stopped by your work. thought i’d surprise ya, but turns out you weren’t there. they said you were sick.”

“Which to some might have been an indication to stay away.” you grumbled. Truth be told you were glad to see him, you just didn’t want him seeing you.

“come on, i’m a skeleton, what am i gonna catch?” Before you could reply the door to your room swung open and he stood on the threshold, drinking in the sight, of you in old ill-fitting pajamas, surrounded by filth. You had been mired in this place pretty much non stop so you weren’t sure, but it couldn’t have smelled good either.

“well, aren’t you a sight.”

You sat up, pushing some hair out of your face. “Sans-”

He chuckled again, that familiar grin on his face. “yeah, not gonna lie, sweetheart.” he walked to the bed and kissed your forehead. “this is really fucking gross.”

“You’re one to talk.” you mumbled, kissing his cheekbone. “Have you seen your bedroom?”

“that’s a performance art piece.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Please define ‘performance art piece for me’ right now.”

He smirked. “someone’s in a mood, i see. did you shower?”

You shook your head. “Been throwing up too much.”

“alright, first thing’s first, hafta settle that stomach. be back in a sec.” he teleported out while you laid back in the bed.

Thirty minutes later he showed up with a thermos, which he handed to you. It was filled with warm soup. “tori’s specialty. ‘ccording to Frisk its pretty good for upset stomach.” You were familiar with Toriel’s cooking habits, and looked at him. “don’t worry, we kept an eye on her to make sure she didn’t put nothin funny in.”

That wasn’t necessarily reassuring, but you decided to risk a draught, keeping the bucket close at hand.

Well, your stomach didn’t immediately revolt….actually…. “That’s the first thing that’s tasted okay in two days.”

He grinned, and tousled your hair. “go shower.”

You got up and started gathering clean clothes. Just before walking in to the bathroom you turn around. “What, no suggestive offers to join me?”

Red rolled his eyes.

“Who is this skeleton I see before me?”

“the threat of being hurled on kind of kills the mood, sweetheart.” he grinned.

“Coward.” you went into the bathroom and started stripping. The shower felt fantastic. You could envision the germs being blasted off your skin, and your stomach was mostly settled.

When you came out he had swapped your sheets and blankets for clean ones and the dishes were gone. You walked outside the room to see him gathering some crackers and water onto a plate.

“Think if I told your brother you just cleaned without being prompted he would pass out?”

“i think you might kill him, honestly.” he came back and wrapped his free arm around your waist, kissing you full on the mouth before guiding you back to your room. “least you smell okay now.”

You smirk and elbow him in the ribs. He grunts, but chuckles.

After making you lie down in bed he sets the plate to the side and wraps his arms around you, your back against his rib cage and your head under his chin.  He opens your laptop and starts queuing up Netflix. “do me a favor, next time just text me that you’re getting sick? you haven’t answered for two days, thought i’d done something wrong.”

“Sorry.” you said, pulling the blankets up to your chin. “But this isn’t my first time being sick, you know, I can handle it myself.”

“i know.” he kissed your cheek. “but that’s the point of me bein here. you get to do stuff with another person that you’d normally have to do alone.”

Its unusually sentimental for Red. “Like, throwing up and lying in your own filth?”

He smirks. “like throwin up and lyin in your own filth.” The show starts up, and you both lapse into comfortable silence.

Red barely leaves your house over the next few days. As usual there’s a complete disconnect between his words and his actions. He teases you about how gross you are while holding your hair back and cleaning up vomit spills. He nags about how much you’re going to owe him for this while basically refusing to let you get up for anything. He smirks and says he’s wasting a lot of time on your feeble human body but refused to go home even when Edge tried to order it. In his own way, it was sweet.

Finally, a night you slept without needing to run panickedly to the bathroom to empty out whatever food you had managed to stuff down. You went to the bathroom to check your temperature and found the fever had broken: you were almost normal. You still felt a bit queasy, but not much more than a light case of carsickness. For the first time, you felt up to pulling on jeans and a t-shirt instead of old sweats. You went downstairs to fix some breakfast, and were greeted by a heartwarming sight. Red, passed out from exhaustion on your couch, with a soft smile. You took a picture to capture the moment before climbing on top of him and kissing him awake to thank him.