menofletters-and-mayhem

[menofletters-and-mayhem]

You’re Mine

Summary: After a hot and heavy fling with Jax Teller ends after he ghosted you. Juice swoops in to cure that sting. Once you’re finally happy, Jax drops a bomb.

Warnings/tags: 18+ only. Language. Difficult choices? Juice kinda gets the shaft. Territorial!Jax

Pairing/Characters: Jax x Reader, Juice x Reader. Ima (gross, I know)

A/n: I kind of needed just a little break from writing smut, so this is a smut free fic. Just angst, and fluff. Still the good stuff.

To say that you were lost would be an understatement. All of your friends were getting married, having babies, buying houses, and you just felt like you were…not where you were supposed to be in life. Sure, you had your own apartment, you had a decent job, but you wanted more, especially now that you just broke up with your boyfriend. The two of you dated for about a year, and you ended it. He just wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted more.

A few years ago, Friday nights were for your girlfriends, but they were all pregnant, or home with their husbands and kids, so it was just you when you strolled in to the dark bar. Normally, you wouldn’t be caught dead in a bar alone; but it was a rough week at work and in life so you needed a few glasses of wine to kickstart the weekend.

Luckily, the bartender was a girlfriend from high school that you hadn’t seen in a while, so the two of you got to catch up, and before you knew it, you were tipsy. The bar was pretty much empty, save for two handsome bikers a few stools down, one was a dirty blonde, devastatingly blue eyes, and holy shit was he handsome. The other biker sitting next to him was handsome too, a strong jaw, and a shaved mohawk with tribal tattoos on both sides of his head.

“Kyra,” you waved over for the bartender and she came over, immediately refilling you with Chardonnay. “Who is that?” You whispered, careful for the two handsome men to not hear you.

She smirked, knowing that all the girls always had a thing for the two men at the bar. Especially the blonde. “The one with the president patch is Jax Teller, and the other one is Juice,” she said with a smirk. “Actually I don’t even know Juice’s real name.” She turned towards him “Juice!”

“What’s up sugar?” He shouted back to Kyra.

“What’s your real name, babe?” She said, naturally a good flirt.

“Juan Carlos!” He said, turning back to Jax to finish their conversation.

“That’s Juan Carlos,” she said to you and hid your face in your hands.

“Oh my god,” you said with a whine. “They’re totally going to know we were talking about them.”

She scoffed. “Babes, they’re so used to it by now.”

You never thought of it that way. They were probably used to attention by now, both wanted and unwanted. They were handsome bikers - they were bound to turn a few heads.

Now you knew where the saying “flowing like wine” came from, because the wine was indeed flowing. You weren’t totally drunk yet, but it was getting to be that time to head home before you were too drunk to drive.

“What’s your name?” You heard a calm and gentle voice in your ear, right next to you, startling you. You had been so zoned out staring at your phone that you hadn’t even noticed that Jax approached you. Turning in your barstool towards him with a half-drunk, half-flirty smile.

“I’m y/n,” you said, bashfully. He introduced himself, even though you already know his name, thanks to Kyra.

“Nice to meet you,” he smirked.

“Jax!” You heard Kyra shout from the dartboard. “You and Juice are up.”

“Play for me babes,” he shouted back to Kyra, his eyes not leaving yours.

The two of you chatted for an hour. You told him about your job, he told you about the club, and the two of you commiserated over woes with work, love and life in general. It was nice, and for the first time in a while, you felt like you weren’t alone.

Jax bought you shots and two more glasses of Chardonnay and when you stood up, you stumbled, almost falling right into the handsome blondes arms. “Woah,” he chuckled. “Let me drive you home.”

“Jackson,” Kyra shouted from the other side of the bar. “Take care of her, I know where you live!” He chuckled in response and walked you to his bike.

“Oh,” you started. “I’ve never been on a bike before.”

“It’s okay,” he smiled, handing you his back-up helmet, sliding his night glasses over his beautiful baby-blues. God damn he looked so good right now. “Just try and keep your weight centered and lean with me.” Yeah, funny Jax, telling a drunk girl to keep her weight centered. You laughed in response, and he smiled at you. “Just hold on, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

You gave Jax directions to your apartment as he drove, and once he pulled into your driveway, he dismounted his bike and took his helmet off. “Do you want a cup of tea or something?” You asked.

“Nah, darlin’,” he said. “I just wanna make sure you get up okay.” He walked you to your door and kissed your cheek after taking your phone and putting his number under “Jackson.” That made you smile. “Jackson,” you giggled. “That’s cute, you used your government name.”

His laugh was contagious and after a few seconds of an awkward silence and just staring at each other, you unlocked the door. Before you could cross the threshold to your apartment, he grabbed your face and planted a kiss on the cheek, which left you wanting more.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come in?” You asked.

“I can’t,” he said, his hands tucked in the pocket of his jeans. “You’re drunk, and I couldn’t take advantage of you.” You clicked your teeth and rolled your eyes, but you had massive respect for that.

“That’s actually really sweet,” you said, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“What can I say? I’m a sweetie.” And just like that, he left and you went upstairs and fell right to sleep.

The next two weeks were like a dream. Jax took you on dates, bike rides, and the two of you made love every day, multiple times a day. Normally you don’t fall very fast, but the hopeless romantic in you was falling madly in love with Jackson Teller. And then one day, out of the blue, he stopped texting you back, stopped answering your calls, and after a week of being ignored, you knew he had ghosted you. You were angry, knowing that you deserved some sort of explanation, but clearly, you weren’t worth that to him. And that love, quickly turned into hate.

After a few days of bed rotting, your phone dinged, and it was a text from Kyra. “Bars dead, Chards on me.”

“Jax ghosted me,” you replied back. “Not really in the mood.”

“Fuck him, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

You thought maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get out of the house, so you showered, but a little makeup on accompanied by a cute outfit. When you walked in the bar, you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw the tattooed head of Juan Carlos. You wanted to leave but maybe Juice was exactly what you needed.

“Hey babe,” Kyra greeted you with a smile and a glass of white wine. “Feeling better?” You shrugged your shoulders in response.

“Hey Juice,” she said, and he picked his head up. “What’s up with your friend?”

He just chuckled, and you rolled your eyes knowing that guy code was not the kind of thing men in a biker club were willing to break.

“Trust me honey,” Juice finally responded, taking a sip of his whiskey. “Jax isn’t the relationship type.”

“He’s not wrong,” Kyra said. And you just decided to move on from the conversation.

You spent the night flirting with Juice, laughing, talking about football. He thought you were pretty, easy to talk to, funny, and you caught him just staring at you with admiration.

“What?” You asked, smiling that you caught him staring at you.

He chuckled, looking down and shaking his head. “Nothing,” he said, laughing nervously before looking up to meet your gaze. “It’s just…” he started, and he was struggling to find the words. “Jax is a fool.” Your eyes immediately dropped with sadness, thinking that was very sweet of him to say. “You’re an absolute prize, y/n.”

When you and Juice started dating, at first you felt bad. But it didn’t take long for you to realize that you deserved to be happy, and you didn’t care if you were a “homie hopper.” Juice made you happy, Juice cured the sting of Jackson, and even seeing him at the clubhouse wasn’t awkward at all. You’d smile politely at him, ask how he was doing, and the two of you would exchange the typical pleasantries. Until, Ima.

You really didn’t know what he saw in her. She was a pornstar for Christ sakes. He always told you what a pain in the ass she was, and how thirsty she was, and now the two of them are hanging out? Dating? You couldn’t understand that dynamic but it was fine after a few times. At first, you had to mask how much it hurt to see Jax with someone else. You didn’t want Juice to know that you still had some weird feelings for Jax. So, you just ignored it. In fact, you invited the two of them for a double date - a simple barbecue at your house.

Juice made it easy, the two of you worked as a team. He grilled, you helped open the door, grab any utensils he had forgotten, and made sure he always had a cold drink. Every time you caught Jax whispering in Ima's ear, with his arm around her while she giggled, made you want to ask everyone to leave, but you kept a brave face.

“Thanks babe,” you said as you finished eating. “That was delicious.”

“Of course, baby.” He responded as you grabbed everyone’s plates to go inside and clean up. You leaned down to plant a kiss on Juice’s lips and asked if anyone needed anything. But, everyone was content, with full drinks and full bellies, so you had time to go inside and be mad in peace for a little while.

“Oh stop Jax, that tickles,” you whispered to yourself, mocking Ima, sticking out your tongue pretending to gag. When you were finishing loading the dishwasher you heard the door open, and you figured it was Juice coming to check on you.

It was Jax. “Gotta use the bathroom,” he said.

“You know where to find it,” you responded dryly. And as you turned around he was directly behind you, pushing you up against the wall.

“Jax,” you whispered, startled and confused. “The fuck is wrong with you.”

“I’ve had enough of the bullshit,” he said between gritted teeth. “I’ve had enough of the games.”

“What are you talking about?!” You exclaimed, trying to break free from the clutch he had on you. “No ones playing games you psycho. Just let me go.”

“That’s thing darlin’,” he said, burying his face in your neck. “I can’t let you go,” he whispered in your ear, his breath hitching. “Your mine.”

“Wh-what?” You said, holding your breath when he leaned up to look in your eyes.

“You heard me, y/n,” he said. “You’re fucking mine.” And just like that, he planted a hard, beer soaked kiss on your lips. And you moaned. You actually moaned. You wanted to scream, but you moaned! You didn’t even try pushing him off of you, and after a couple of seconds he broke the kiss, looked at you and walked back outside to join Ima and Juice. You wanted to throw something. You wanted to break something. You wanted…everyone to get the fuck out of your house now.

When you walked outside, you told Juice that you weren’t feeling well.

“Ok, hun,” he said standing up. “Do you want me to stay?” You nodded your head.

“N-no, baby,” you said, looking down with guilt. You felt bad about everything that just happened. “Kinda just wanna be alone.”

He understood. Jax and Ima thanked you for the hospitality, and the three of them left together.

Once you knew you were alone, your blood was boiling. You felt so confused, angry. Why would he do that to you? What the fuck did he want with you? But deep down, you loved it. You loved that Jax still thought of you. Still wanted you. All this time, you’d wondered what you did wrong - why you weren’t good enough. You felt…almost pleased. Pleased that you were able to get under Jackson Tellers skin like that.

After an hour of hanging out on the couch, zoning out and still trying to wrap your head around what happened in your kitchen earlier, there was a knock on the door.

“The hell?” You muttered to yourself as you walked to your front door, opening it to find Jax standing at your doorway.

“Jax,” you said, serious, but understanding. Understanding his feelings, because you felt the same way. Understanding that yearning, because you felt it, too. “We can’t do this.”

He ignored you, and just let himself in. You watched from the door as he slowly stalked through your door; through the hallway, and into the living room before sitting down on the couch.

“By all means,” you said, slamming the door and walking towards him on the couch. “Make yourself comfy.”

The two of you sat there for a moment, in silence. He sat with his legs open and his elbows resting on his knees. You could tell he was deep and thought, but there was no way you were going to speak first, so you just stared at him.

“Y/n,” he started, opening his hands like he was trying to find the words to say before folding them again. But he didn’t say anything else.

“What the hell was that Jackson?” You asked. You weren’t angry. You were calm. Collected. “Juice is your best friend.”

“Yeah no shit,” he said, sitting up and turning to look at you. “He never should’ve went after you. He knew how I felt about you.”

Now you were annoyed. “Jax…” you started. “You ghosted me!” You exclaimed, trying to get into his thick skull was not easy.

“I needed some time!” He made the sorry excuse you’ve heard so many times from other guys. “I was scared.”

“Well,” you said. “I guess Juice wasn’t. And now it’s too late.”

“Y/n,” he moved closer to you, resting his hand on your thigh. “Please, give me another chance.

“I can’t do that,” you said, standing up. “I can’t do that to Juice.” And without another word, you signalled for him to follow you to the door, and opened it for him. Jax paused on the porch, as if he was hoping you had changed your mind on the short walk from the couch to the door.

“Goodnight, Jax,” and you shut the door in his face, holding back every emotion you could until that door was closed. You refused to let him see you cry. You refused to let him see that you still felt those things for him. That even though you were dating one of his best friends, you couldn’t let him go.

The next day, you woke up and realized that you had to cut things off with Juice; it wasn’t fair to him to string him along while you still had feelings for Jax, and while Jax still had feelings for you. He called you to check on you, but he could hear it in your voice, he could tell that something was wrong.

“Why don’t you just come here so we talk?” You said after he asked you a few times what was the matter. Once you said that, he knew. He knew you were about to end it.

When he got to your house, the two of you sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. You weren’t worried; Juice didn’t seem like the type to be bitter over a break-up. Although, you were breaking up with him because you still had feelings for his best friend. He may have been a little bitter over that.

“Does this have anything to do with the way you were staring at Jax yesterday?” He said into his coffee mug, so matter-of-factly, hardly any emotion attached at all.

“What?” you played stupid.

“C’mon, Y/n,” he said, tilting his head, but smirking ever so slightly, just enough to let you know that he wasn’t angry. “You were practically foaming at the mouth every time he was whispering in Ima’s ear, or kissing her. I’m not stupid, or blind.”

“I know you’re not,” you said as tears started to form in your eyes.

“I get it, hun,” he said, standing up from the table and walking over towards you, leaning down to run his hands through the hair that rested on the nap of your neck and planting a kiss on your forehead. “I really do.”

You didn’t say anything as you got up to walk him to the door, but you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

He smirked at you, and looked into your eyes. “No hard feelings,” he said, and something about the way he said it told you that he was being completely sincere.

“Promise?” You asked, and he responded with a chuckle.

“Promise.”

And he left. He probably thought you were going to immediately call Jax, have him come over, make sweet love to him. But the truth was, you needed time away. Time away from Jax, time away from feelings and emotions. Time away from Charming. So you packed a bag, got in your car, and just drove. Though you didn’t go very far. You booked a room up in Tahoe, just for a few days to enjoy some peace and quiet. Take in the beautiful views, and think. Think about what you wanted. And you kept going back to Jax.

Jax was worried about you - he called you several times when you were in the mountains, worrying half to death that you were a runaway. And when you got home, you saw his Harley in front of your house.

“The hell?” you muttered to yourself as you pulled into this driveway, and saw him sitting on your front porch in one of the rocking chairs.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, unloading your bags from the truck from your last-minute getaway. He quickly jogged towards you, grabbing the bag that was already slung around your shoulder.

“I hadn’t heard from you, and you weren’t answering your phone.” He said, walking towards the door with your bags in hand. “Had to make sure you were still alive, sweetheart.”

The two of you awkwardly stood in your living room after he brought your bags to your bedroom, unsure of what to say.

“Juice told me what happened.” He said.

You tucked your lips in and raised your eyebrows, nodding your head and avoiding eye contact with him. “Yup,” you responded dryly.

“How do you feel?”

“Shitty enough to run away for a week to clear my head.” You responded.

“Do you still feel shitty?” He asked, and all you could do was nod your head.

“Darlin’,” Jax said, walking closer to you, closing the gap between the two of you. “Juice is going to be okay.” He brought a hand to your cheek and cupped your face in his hand.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t feel shitty about it,” you said, trying to get him to see that this wasn’t as simple for you as it was for him. It wasn’t so easy for you to just hurt people, even though it was for Jax. “I feel guilty.” And a tear started streaming down your face.

“Y/n,” he brought you into his arms and you buried your face in his chest, the guilt eating you alive. “It really is okay.”

“No, it’s not,” you said in his t-shirt, muffled from the fabric and from the tears.

“Him and I talked about it,” he said, and you broke the hug and looked up at him, puzzled, wondering what the hell he was talking about. “He knows that you’re something special, and he was willing to let you go so you can be happy. At first, you thought he was just making that up to make you feel better, that there was no way that two bikers sat around and talked about their feelings. And he knew you weren’t going to believe it, so he handed you an envelope with your name on it.

“Y/n,” the note started. “I tried calling you but couldn’t get through. I understand, and you have my blessing. You deserve happiness, and Jax really does care about you. I am willing to let you go so you can be happy.”

Jax hoped that this would make you feel better, but for some reason, it didn’t.

“I need to go to sleep, Jax,” you said, folding the letter and putting it back in the envelope. “You should go.”

“Let me stay,” he said, and you had never seen this persistent side of Jax. “Let me make it up to you. Let me show you that I won’t hurt you again.”

“I’m not sleeping with you tonight, Jackson,” you said, and he responded with a cheeky grin after licking his lips.

“I don’t want to fuck you tonight,” he responded with a smile. “I just want to be with you.” You gave in, and let him follow you to your room. You changed into comfy clothes, but he stayed in his jeans and white tee, laying on your bed and crossing his ankles, watching you get dressed.

“Perv,” you joked, and slid in the bed beside him.

“Y/n,” Jax said as you turned the TV on and sifted through Netflix for something to watch.

“Hmm?” You responded, not looking at him. He took the remote out of your hand and grabbed your face gently to make you turn to look at him.

“Will you just listen to me for one second?” He said, and you didn’t respond, you just gazed into his baby blue eyes, as if you were in a trance. “I mean it - you’re mine. And I am going to spend a long time proving it to you if I have too.”

You didn’t say anything, you just continued looking into his eyes. “Will you give me the chance to do that? Please?” And you responded with a nod, his hand still cupping your face when he leaned in to plant a soft, loving kiss on your lips.

“I don’t ever…” he said, his brow furrowed, his face serious. “...ever want to go through the torture of seeing you with another man. Ever again.” Another tear streamed down your face. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you said, smiling at him.

“Now find something to watch.” And you turned back to the TV, sifting through Netflix again.

Once you found something to watch, you cuddled into Jax’s arms until you fell asleep, finally at peace.

[menofletters-and-mayhem]

Jax: Do you ever want to talk about your emotions, Chibs?

Chibs: No.

Juice: I do!

Jax: We know, Juice.

Juice: I’m sad.

Chibs: We know, Juice.

[menofletters-and-mayhem]

Imagine spending football Sundays with Jax

Only he’s a Raiders fan and you’re a Bills fan.

“You know they don’t even play in Oakland anymore, right?” You say with a smirk in his direction.

“Shut it, darlin’.”

[menofletters-and-mayhem]

Request for @hodgepodge-musings

Imagine Jax Teller defending you

Ice skating was your passion growing up, and you dreamt of going to the Olympics as a child. When those skates hit the ice, it was like you became a totally different person - exhuming confidence and beauty. Until one day, doing a stunt, youlanded weird on your knee, and your career as a figure skater was over.

The hardest part, other than saying goodbye to your lifelong dream, was the damage left you with a permanent limp. Everyone in the town of Charming was friendly enough, never making it obvious that you walked with a limp, but deep down, you couldn’t help the feeling that everyone was always staring at you, pitying you. But you didn’t want pity, you just wanted to be treated like a person.

You were at work one day, at the local convenience store to pay your way through college, when some young punks walked in.

“Hey, yeah,” the one kid, about 18 or 19 years old, came up to the counter. He was either drunk, or stoned - maybe even both. “Do you guys have pringles?”

“Of course,” you replied in your best customer service voice before coming up from behind the counter to show the customer where you kept the snacks. You heard his group of friends giggling and snickering behind you.

“Something funny?” You heard a voice from the counter to find Jax Teller, clad in leather, tapping his fingers on the surface by the register. Jax was a regular at the store. Always coming in for cigarettes and something to drink.

“Nah, man, it’s not like that.” The one kid replied, his voice shaking.

“Really?” Jax said, slowly walking away from the counter and towards the group of kids. “Cause it seems to me, that something was pretty funny.” He stood in front of the group, towering over them. You watched with delight, with no intention of coming to anyone’s rescue. “Share it with the class, I personally love a good joke.”

“C’mon man,” one of them said. “Don’t act like you don’t crack jokes with your boys,” he said pointing to the Redwood Original patch on his kutte.

“Not at the expense of a woman, no,” he said, moving closer now.

“She’s not a woman,” another one muttered under his breath.

“Really?” He said, shocked that one of them would even make such a rude comment. “You fuckin’ kidding me?”

No one said anything now. It was silent.

Finally, you decided to put an end to this. “Jax, it’s okay, really.”

“No, it’s not,” he grabbed them one by one and lined them up along the shelves. “Now, I want you all to apologize to y/n.”

“Fuck no,” the one said, and Jax quickly wound up and hit him straight across the jaw with a right hook, quickly grabbing him by his shirt and holding him up straight.

“Try again, douche bag,” Jax said. “Y/n,” he made a come hither motion with his finger, signaling for you to come stand in front of the kid whose nose was trickling blood. Once you were standing in front of him, there was still silence. “Please don’t make me ask again.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, unable to even look at you.

They all apologized one after to the other.

“Good job,” Jax said sarcastically. “Now get your Pringles and get the fuck outta here. Go home to your mommy.”

When they all left, you started crying, even though you really didn’t even want to cry in front of the handsome biker in front of you.

“Hey,” he whispered, bringing you in for a hug. “Don’t let those scumbags get to you.” You walked towards the counter and grabbed Jax’s smokes. He turned to walk away, but stopped right before he reached the door. “For what it’s worth darlin’, I think you’re beautiful. Inside and out.”

@hodgepodge-musings, I hope you’re happy with this. 🩷

[menofletters-and-mayhem]

Can you do one where Jax dates (or something more) a reader with a limp? I'm feeling self conscious about my own so I wonder what my fantasy man would say to me.. 😭😭😭

Hi honey! Absolutely I can! Before I start, though - what are your limits on language? I have some ideas of some random people talking shit to the reader in the store, and Jax intervenes but I don’t want to push your limits. Let me know (:

[menofletters-and-mayhem]

4x08 - “Wishful Thinking”

[menofletters-and-mayhem]

I refuse to change

[menofletters-and-mayhem]

My husband tells me I have an attitude problem (and he’s not wrong) but yall I just had the best idea for an enemies to lovers fics and I’m just gonna let this attitude run wild 💅

[menofletters-and-mayhem]

Ash and Gasoline

Part three - Blood Binding Magic

Summary: Jax gets filled in on everything that happens. Bound and determined to help, the reader realizes quickly that she’s no longer alone in this fight.

Warnings/tags: 18+ only. Smut, angst, cannon appropriate violence. Protective!Jax, Protective!Dean.

Paring/characters: Jax x Reader, the reader and Dean have a sweet moment as well. SAMS BACK.

catch up here

Last year:

“Y/n,” Dean said from the driver's side of the Impala. “I am not kidding, you have no idea how dangerous this is.” He was focusing on the road, while his brother sat in the passenger seat, and you in the back.

“Dean,” you leaned forward, smirking, knowing you could almost always get your way with Dean. “How long have we been doing this for? A year? More?”

“It doesn’t matter, babe,” Dean said, looking over at Sam to back him up, but he didn’t.

“I think she’s proven herself,” he turned back to you, smiling. You and Sam have been practically brother and sister for the last year and a half, and he always defended you against Dean, because 99% of the time, you were right, and Dean was wrong. Dean hated it, but loved it at the same time. You guys became family. And he really loved you to death. He would do anything to protect you.

But whether Dean liked it or not, you were going on this hunt. It was going to be your first time hunting a witch and you couldn't have been more excited.

“Don’t get too excited there, hot stuff,” Dean said, peeking at you in the backseat from the rearview window. “Witches can be nasty, and it’s not like what you see in Hocus Pocus.”

You groaned. “I love that movie! Those witches are bad ass!”

Dean was getting even more aggravated with you now, wishing you would just listen to him, and take it seriously. And he was annoyed with his brother too, who laughed at your retort about Hocus Pocus. You couldn’t understand where the stick in Dean’s ass came from, because like Sam said, you’d been hunting with them for a year now. What could possibly go wrong?

What the three of you were certain had been a witch, was actually a woman-in-white case, which definitely was no walk in the park. You would never have admitted it to Dean, but he was right - you bit off way more than you could chew. You underestimated the case, and because of that, mistakes were made. After slicing your arm open on a low branch in the graveyard you were all at, you started bleeding, but you thought it was just a scratch. You didn’t even realize how bad you were bleeding until you saw blood trickle on the bones as Dean was scattering salt in the open grave.

“Y/n!” Dean yelled.

“What?!” You exclaimed.

“Sammy,” he looked at Sam and put his hand out to stop him from lighting the match. But it was too late. The bones had already been engulfed in flames. “Son of a bitch!”

“What?” You asked again, with no clue why he was acting like this. Why was he so angry? Why was he so panicked? Sam walked over to join the two of you, and asked what happened.

“She bled on the bones,” he said to his brother, pointing to your arm that would have most likely needed stitches.

The car ride back to the motel was silent, and you tried multiple times to break that heavy silence by asking what the hell was the matter. What was the big deal? Neither of them responded, and that was the night that Dean left you.

Present day:

By the time Dean finished telling Jax about your final hunt, his drink was empty. He was stunned, so stunned that he couldn’t even speak, he just waved for the bartender to get him another drink. Jax was still confused, unsure what the big deal was.

“So,” Jax said before taking a swig of his drink. “What was the big deal? Who cares that she bled on the bones?”

Dean often forgot that the normal person would have no idea about lore and monsters and the risk that comes with it, and he had to remind himself of that often, otherwise he would just get aggravated.

“Haven’t you ever heard of blood-binding magic?” Dean asked in a whisper, turning in his bar stool to look at Jax.

“Blood-bidning magic?” Jax repeated with a scoff. “No,” he took another drink. “Can’t say that I have.”

Dean explained to him that this will now tie you and the spirit of the woman in white together. Forever.

“You pickin’ up what I’m putting down?” Dean asked. He was tired of answering questions, now. He really had no idea how to help, how to fix this. It’s been a year of breaking his own mind to try and help you. He didn’t know what the answer was. Times like this, Dean wishes his father was still alive - he would’ve known what to do. But, for the first time in a decade, Dean didn’t have an answer, and that drove him mad.

“So, how do you fix it?” Jax asked, not knowing the mental warfare Dean had declared on himself trying to answer that question. But, he just did what he knew how to do, and that was to answer with sarcasm.

“Been wondering that myself.” Dean took another swig of his beer, and reached for his wallet so he could pay his tab and go back to his hotel.

That wasn’t a good enough answer for Jax, and he slammed his hand down on the bar, causing everyone to stop what they were doing and stare. “This isn’t a fucking joke, Dean,” he said between gritted teeth. Dean just looked at him, and walked out. Jax followed him out of the bar and to his Chevy. “What do we do?”

Dean rested his hand on the handle of his door, pondering how to respond. He was torn between telling him to go fuck himself, or play nice to have the extra help.

“Look,” Dean said. “It’s not supposed to be like this.” He looked at Jax, and he realized that Jax may have had real feelings for you once he saw the concern in his eyes. “It’s really not something that I know how to fix.”

Dean let Jax know that his brother was on his way into the town of Charming. “He’s the brains of the family,” he joked.

“Not surprised,” Jax responded and Dean gave a sarcastic chuckle back.

“We’re meeting at the library tomorrow,” he said, opening his car door and sliding in behind the wheel. “If you wanna help, meet us. We will be waiting in the parking lot for them to open.” He shut the door, and the engine of the Impala roared, and Jax just stood there, unsure of what to do. This was real, and he finally realized that now.

Once Jax made it to his bike, he realized that he owed you an apology. He hadn't meant to hurt you, or embarrass you, so he rode to your hotel, hoping that you were still awake. Jax gently knocked on your door, not knowing what time it was, and when there was no answer, he peeked in the window, and could see your sleeping face through the curtain that was open by just a sliver. He wanted to let you sleep, and so he left.

If only Jax had woken you up. You were having horrible dreams, the kind that felt so real and you had no idea that you were dreaming. In your dream, Jax and Dean were beating each other senseless, and no matter how much you begged and pleaded for them to stop, they wouldn’t. The sounds of bones cracking, and punches landing was so real, that there was no way you could have been dreaming. This had gone on all night, until finally, they turned on you. Both of them cornered you, threatened you, scared you to death. Once you woke up, you had dried tears in the corners of your eyes.

You went to the bathroom, and saw fresh cuts all over your arm. “God fucking damn it!”

You stormed back into your room, reaching for your phone and checking the time - 5:45 am. You couldn’t take this anymore, so you called the one person you absolutely did not want to speak to.

Deans sleepy voice was mesmerizing when he answered. “Y/n,” he said, his voice scratchy and deep. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know Dean,” you cried into the phone.

“Sweetheart,” you could hear blankets and sheets rustling around, leading you to believe that Dean was sitting up now. “What’s going on?”

“It happened again,” you sobbed. “It happened again.” By now, you were sobbing uncontrollably, begging Dean for help, begging for answers. You were going crazy, and he could hear the desperation in your voice. Before he could do anything, he had to get you calmed down.

“Alright,” he said calmly. “It’s okay, Y/n, just breathe.” He took a deep breath in, and you mimicked it. A deep breath out, and you mimicked it again. The two of you did this over the phone until your sobs turned into gentle whimpers. “Atta girl,” he said. “That’s my strong girl.” That caused a tear to roll down your face, but you didn’t make a sound.

“What’s happening to me, Dean?” You asked.

“Meet me in 2 hours, at the Charming Public Library,” he said. “We’re going to get this straightened out, I swear to you, Y/n.” His voice was serious, and you knew he meant business.

“Okay-” you whispered into the phone.

“Try and go back to sleep, okay?” He said, and you nodded as if he could see you. “I’ll see you in a little bit.” And just like that, the line went dead, and you were alone again. You hated Dean Winchester, and you hated the hold he had on you. He had no right to hit you with that “my strong girl” crap. He knew exactly what he was doing. Sure, you called him for help, but it should not have gone that far, because for the first time in a year, you felt something other than hate for Dean Winchester - you felt love again. And you knew that was only going to complicate things.

Once the sun rose that morning, you were already prepared to walk out the door. Your tired eyes had been masked with a little bit of makeup, and you had your hair pulled back, wearing leggings and a flannel. When you pulled into the parking lot of the small town library, you saw Dean’s car, and you parked right next to him. The familiar hum of a Harley pulled in next to you, and you were shocked to see the handsome face of Jax Teller, bright eyed and smiling at you, but you refused to smile back. You stormed out of your car and walked over to him.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered, as if you were already inside the library. “Just stop, okay? I don’t need to witness any more fist fights!”

“Relax, darlin’,” he said, walking over to Dean and shaking his hand through the opened window of the Impala. What the hell?

“Nice to see you two made up.” You walked past them and into the library, and when you saw Sam sitting in a quiet study room, your mouth opened with surprise. He looked up and saw you, flashing a dimpled smirk your way, standing up when you ran to give him a hug. Jax and Dean walked in behind you and when Jax saw you hugging the taller, younger Winchester, he balled his hands into a white knuckled fist.

“Easy tiger,” Dean said, slapping a hand on Jackson’s leather clad shoulder. “They really were best friends. You got nothing to worry about.” And Dean walked over to the table, sitting down. Seeing another man care about you the way Jax did hurt Dean, it damn near broke his heart. He knew that he lost you, but you deserved to be happy so he played nice.

Once the four of you were sat, everyone just stared at Sam, knowing he was the one who had the answers.

“Who are you?” Sam asked, looking at Jax.

“I’m a friend of Y/n’s,” he said, smiling in your direction, but you didn’t smile back. In fact, you gave him a dirty look.

“Yeah, you two seem…” Sam trailed off, trying to find the right words without being too impolite but noticed the scowl you served Jax. “...Very friendly.”

“He’s a friend of mine, too,” Dean said with an arrogant smirk on his face.

“Yeah,” Sam replied. “You need some of those.”

You noticed the tension between Dean and Sam when they first sat down, but at first, you thought maybe you were overthinking it. After that comment, though, you knew something was going awry in the land of the Winchesters that you were going to have to get to the bottom of. Later.

“Sam,” you rested your hand on his. “Thanks for coming,” you said, trying to break some of the tension and his lips formed a tight line as he nodded his head.

“So what exactly is happening?” Dean asked, his hands folded on the table.

“So, when y/n bled on the bones while we were on that hunt, the spirit tied itself to her…” he trailed off, speaking of you as if you weren’t there. “…somehow.”

“Blood-binding magic,” Dean piggy backed off his little brother.

“Exactly,” he responded, looking over at you as you tried to not panic; tried to not cry. You just wanted to run away but you knew that you had to fight, because this thing was never going to stop.

“Have you been having any…dreams? Hallucinations?” Sam asked, and you looked down at your hands in your lap.

“Y/n?” Dean asked. “Have you?”

You just looked at him, gazing into his green eyes and you nodded your head.

“And is that usually when you wake up with cuts, or bruises?” Sam asked, and you pulled your sleeve up, showing the three men in front of you the fresh cuts all over your arm from last night.

“Jesus Christ,” Jax exclaimed, leaning back in his chair and running his hand down his face.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean murmured, resting his elbows on the table and cradling his head in his hands.

“Can you guys explain something to me?” Jax asked and the three of you all turned to look at him in unison. “If you all burned the bones, then wasn’t that supposed to be the end of it?”

That was a great question. There had to have been something else. Some sort of soul-tie, like a piece of jewelry or clothing - something.

“I’ll start doing some research and see if there’s anything else that the woman in white could be tied to,” Sam said.

“What does it want with me anyway?” You asked Sam. And he explained his theory about how he’s almost positive that it was feeding off your pain. The more you suffered, the stronger it got, and the stronger it got, the more damage it could do. So you needed to move fast before this spirit got any stronger.

The hunt happened in Illinois, and you were all in California, which means you had to start preparing yourself for another road trip with the Winchester’s.

The three men travelled behind you out of the library, and you turned to look at Jax once you made it to the parking lot. You didn’t say anything, you just glared at him - still angry with him. When he mounted his bike, and reached a hand out to cup your face. “I’ll call you later,” he said and you pulled back from him.

“You really don’t have to,” you responded coldly.

“No,” he said, letting go of your face covering his blonde locks with his helmet, buckling it around his chin. “But I owe you an apology,” he said, kicking on his bike, and leaning in to plant a kiss on your cheek before driving out of the lot.

You stood there for a moment, contemplating what’s going to happen when you turn around. Something was going on between Sam and Dean. Part of you told yourself it wasn’t your place or your problem anymore; but another part of you wanted to try and help make peace between the two brothers.

When you turned to look at them they were both staring at you, wondering what you were thinking.

“What is going on with you two?” You asked, slowly stepping towards them, and they both shrugged in response.

“Seriously?” You raised your eyebrows at them.

“Tell her, Dean,” Sam said, looking at his brother who scowled at him in return.

Dean blamed Sam. For months they bickered, and resented each other until they both went their own separate ways.

You scowled at Dean, angry that he could treat his brother that way. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” You looked at him, waiting for a response that never came. “You had no right to treat him that way!”

“Y/n,” Sam said, reaching for your hand in an attempt to calm you down. “It’s alright.”

“No,” you said, pulling your hand away from Sam. “It’s not okay!” You were shouting now, and all Dean could do was look down at the ground. Still unable to look at you, just like he couldn’t look at you when he ran away from you. “That’s all you do, huh? Just push people away and fucking run when you’re a little scared.”

You quickly gathered yourself, not wanting to cause a scene. “Sam,” you turned your head to look at him. “Call me when you have a plan. And you,” you turned and pointed to Dean, “get your shit together.” And without another word, you walked back to your car, and headed back to your hotel.

After a steamy hot shower, you wrapped your head in a towel, and sat on the bed. You were exhausted beyond anything you’d ever felt, but you were too afraid to take a nap because the dreams were getting too real. A rapping on the door interrupted your thoughts and you knew it was Jax, so you got up to open the door, still wrapped in a towel.

When you opened the door, he was resting his arm on the frame, with his head down, locking eyes with you.

“Hi,” you said quietly.

“Hey baby,” he said slowly, his voice low and sultry. “Get dressed, I wanna show you something.”

You quickly brushed out your wet hair, and got dressed, making your way down to the parking lot to see Jax on his bike, smoking a cigarette.

“What’s up?” You asked, standing next to his bike. He didn’t respond, he just handed you a helmet and you slid it on your wet haired head. Quickly, he reached over to buckle the chin strap and gently tapped the helmet and smiled at you.

“Hop on,” he said, and once you settled in behind him, wrapping your arms around his belly, squeezing as close to him as you could, he took off. Truth be told, you were horrified of motorcycles, but Jax kept tapping your legs to make sure you were okay, and once he reached a comfortable speed, he kept one hand on the handlebar and let the other rest on your thigh.

The two of you made it to the top of a hill, and parked on the shoulder. It took you a minute to realize this is where you had broken down just a few days ago when this beautiful mad came waltzing into your life. Jax made his way over to the guard rail and sat down, just taking in the view. You watched him from afar for a moment before joining him.

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” he said, looking at you. His eyes were apologetic and sincere.

“It’s okay,” you responded, turning away to take in the view over the hills. For a moment, you had forgotten everything that’s been happening to you. But when it all came back to you, Jax heard a sniffle and turned to see you crying.

“Hey,” he whispered, snaking his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in closely. “Everything’s going to be fine.” He said. But he had no idea what you were in for. He had no idea if you were going to be fine.

“I’m so scared, Jax,” you whimpered in to his chest, soaking his white tee with tears.

“I know, baby,” he shushed you, gently rubbing your back.

The two of you sat on the guard rail and talked about life, talked about your past, your dreams, your aspirations. Once the sun started to set, Jax took you back to your hotel and you grabbed your things, packed it into your car, and followed Jax back to his house. He didn’t want you sleeping alone; and you certainly were okay with that. You knew that if you went to bed alone, there was no chance you’d fall asleep; you were too scared of your dreams.

Crossing the threshold of Dean's house made you shy, like you were walking into a strangers house.

“You okay?” He asked, sliding his kutte off of his shoulders and on the hook by the door. You looked at him, smiling and nodded your head. He returned the smile and told you he was just going to take a quick shower, but to make yourself comfy.

You settled in to his couch, putting your legs up and surfing through the channels to find something to watch. After settling on something to watch, you felt your phone vibrating next to you, and it was Sam calling you.

“Hello?” You answered, and you heard Sam and Dean on speaker phone on the other side of the line.

“Nice to see you two made up,” you said. And they ran over the plan for you. They were going to pick you up from your hotel at 7 the next morning, and the three of you were going to head for Illinois. You listened intently to Sam as Jax walked out in the living room, his wet hair slicked back and a towel wrapped around his waist. You tried to play it cool but you started to stutter over your words.

“U-um,” you stammered into the phone. “A-actually Sam, I’m at Jax’s house so just pick me up from there in the morning. I’ll text you the address,” your eyes didn’t leave his as he stalked over towards you, tormenting you as you struggled to form coherent sentences to Sam on the phone.

He knelt down in front of you and buried his face into your neck, breathing in deeply. You audibly sighed with pleasure into the phone. “K see you tomorrow, bye,” and you abruptly hung up on the brothers.

Jax was kissing your neck now, and you chuckled. “That was….” You trailed off to moan in pleasure as he brought your earlobe into his mouth, nibbling on it gently. “…not very nice, Jax.”

He cooed in your ear. “You don’t think I’m nice?” He said, abandoning your neck to look at you. Jax looked deeply in your eyes and pushed the hair off your forehead. “Let me show you how nice I am.” And he violently grabbed your face, planting a loving and erotic kiss on your lips. When you opened your mouth to invite his tongue in, you wrapped your legs around his sides and he swiftly scooped you up, carrying you to his bedroom.

Your legs and arms were still wrapped around him when he made it to the foot of the bed, and he playfully tossed you on the mattress. You giggled as you sat up, grabbing for the towel that was tied at the waist, quickly undoing it and watching his impressive length come free.

“Go ahead baby,” he said, gently gripping the back of your head, looking down at you smiling. You opened your mouth and took his hard cock in your mouth. Feeling the velvety tip hit the back of your throat caused you to gag around him, the vibrations eliciting a guttural moan from Jax. “Oh that’s a good girl,” he praised, and you kept deep throating him for a few more minutes. When you needed a break, you’d suck on the tip and stroke the shaft, and his grip tightened around your hair. “Fuck.”

“Look at me, baby girl,” he said, tilting your chin up as you stroked his glistening cock. Your eyes were submissive and sultry, and his were hungry and dominant.

You continued, alternating between deep throating and polishing his hard cock until your saliva was pooling in the web of your fingers.

He stiffened and quickly pulled away, careful to not come to early. “Lay down,” he barked at you, and as you climbed to the headboard on your elbows, he quickly undressed you. Jax moved fast, and aggressive, and once your pants were all the way off and you were rested on a pillow, he kissed and nibbled your ankle, up your calf and to your thigh. He wanted to take his time. He wanted to tease you. He wanted to make you beg. So, he started the process over again on your other leg. Once he made his way back up he gently blew at your dripping center, making you arch your back with excitement.

“What do you want baby,” he said, looking up at you from between your spread legs, with an evil grin.

“I want you, Jax,” you said and he delivered a soft, wet kiss to your clit, and you moaned quietly, arching more, bringing your hips up with desperation. And before you could ask again, he dove into your dripping core, licking along your folds, up and down from your clit to your taint. Over and over again. His tongue was soft and wet, wrapping around your clit and sucking on it softly, forming wide circles and gently entering a finger into your core.

He was teasing you, his finger going in painfully slow, in and out, making you plead for more. He didn’t listen, he just kept fingering you gently while still forming soft and gentle circles around your clit.

“Jax,” your arched, your body begging for more. “Please,” and with that, he entered another finger in your pussy, still gently sucking your clit and fucking you harder and faster. You moaned at the intrusion, your eyes rolling back with pleasure. You could feel the lips that were wrapped around your sensitive nub curve up in a smile, and he knew you were close. He sucked on your clit stronger now, his tongue like a wave, like he was trying to leave a hickey on your tender flesh as he curved his fingers up to hit your g-spot. You couldn’t take anymore, the pleasure too overwhelming as he felt your walls tighten around his fingers.

Your blood ran warm, and your entire body was covered in goosebumps as you neared closer to release. Jax could feel it; he knew, and he didn’t ease up.

“J-Jax,” you said gripping the sheets with one hand and his hair with another. “D-don’t… fucking…stop,” and just like that, the tingle traveled from your spine, up to your skull and your thoughts were washed over with a white-hot bliss. Your pussy walls convulsed and Jax knew that you were coming, and he continued gently pumping his fingers into you until the aftershocks stopped.

Once you came, Jax stood up, and grabbed your legs, pulling you to the edge of the bed. “Not done with you yet, darlin’,” he said, noticing your eyes closing with satisfaction. He grabbed your ankles and rested them on his shoulders, delivering a soft kiss to the arch of your foot, and to your ankle before lining the head of his cock up with your dripping cunt. He was not gentle with you when he slammed into you, his hips slapping against your ass.

“Fuck!” You exclaimed and he smiled in response.

“Like that, baby?” He asked, knowing damn well you liked it. You nodded your head, moaning in pleasure as he pumped in and out of you, his hands grazing down your legs, up your torso, and gripping your breasts with a squeeze.

His pace was punishing, and you were overwhelmed with pleasure.

Jax released his grip on your breast and gripped your throat gently and you smiled, loving that he wanted to claim you. After a few more hard pumps, Jax wanted to rip another orgasm from you, and he gently circled his thumb around your sensitive clit. It was overstimulating torture and you weren’t sure that you could take it, so you gripped Jax’s wrist in an attempt to stop him.

“Nuh-uh, baby,” he said, releasing your throat and pinning the hand that grabbed him to the bed. “You’re gonna come for me again, okay?” You whimpered, unsure if you could handle the torturous touch on your clit.

“I can’t,” you whimpered.

“Yes you can, baby,” he said, easing up just a little bit, his thumb was barely touching you now, but it was still painfully pleasureful. He felt your pussy grip his hard cock, and he smirked at you arrogantly. “See?” He chuckled. “You’re gonna come again.” You moaned loudly now, the line between pleasure and pain becoming more and more blurred.

“Go ahead baby,” he pounded into you, his voice straining, and you could tell he was about to come, too. “Come with me.”

The wetness streamed down his length and onto his sheets as you came, and he quickly pulled out of you and emptied himself on your belly.

The two of you laid there for a moment, naked and catching your breath. You waited for him to light his cigarette because you figured that meant the fog of post coital bliss was starting to dissipate.

“That was Sam on the phone,” you said, turning your head to look at him.

“I figured.” He flicked his zippo lighter and burned the end of his smoke.

“They’re coming to get me in the morning,” you stated, matter-of-factly. He seemed angry, which was not how you wanted to spend your last night with Jax, but you were so exhausted and you couldn’t even keep your eyes open anymore.

The next morning, you woke to the sun shining through the sheer curtains of Jackson’s bedroom, but when you wiped the sleep out of your eyes, Jax wasn’t there. You sat up and saw bags packed, and you were even more confused.

His sheets were wrapped around your body as your padded through his house, confused and trying to figure out what was going on. Jax was sitting at the kitchen table, freshly showered and dressed.

“What are you doing?” You asked as you slid in the chair across from him. “You okay?”

“I’m coming with you guys,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Wh-what?” You asked. There was no way this was going to end well. Him and Dean would be at each others throats the whole time, and you knew that it had disaster written all over it.

“Y/n,” he started. “There’s no chance in hell I’m letting you go alone.” You loved that Jax was protective and sticking by you even through all of this craziness. “I promise you,” he took another sip from his coffee mug. “I’ll never let anything bad happen to you ever again.”

Your bags were already packed by the time Sam and Dean pulled in to Jackson’s driveway. But the brothers were confused when they saw Jax heading towards the Impala with his bags.

“Don’t mind if I tag along do ya?”

“Actually, I,” Dean started but was quickly cut off by his brother.

“The more the merrier,” Sam said, smirking at his brother.

You sat in the backseat with Sam, and Jax sat in the front with Dean. Even though the two of them made up, it was still a little awkward.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Dean said, turning the keys in the ignition.

“Bring it on,”

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@bellaxgiornata

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[menofletters-and-mayhem]

Hello, beautiful people. If you're new here, welcome!

My name is Coll, I am in my 30s, and I'm a mama bear with a passion for fanfiction. I used to be strictly a Dean Winchester girly, but now I have expanded my horizons. I still love Dean, but now I am also a Jax Teller gal, so I guess you could say I am multi fandom, now!

I used to write religiously, especially during the pandemic, but after a lot of life changes, I lost interest and time. But, I have found myself again, and I am so happy to be back.

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[menofletters-and-mayhem]

Black Eyed Dreams

Part Four

Summary: Sam and Dean finally had you back, but they quickly realized that things aren’t the same.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ this installment has no smut but lots of angst. This is a dark(ish) fic so please proceed with caution. Themes of trauma.

A/n: I’m so happy to be back with this series. I remember when I first had this idea, I had no clue that this would be one of my works that got the most love. I struggled with writers block after my last installment and after my 3 year hiatus, we’re back.

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Enjoy ☺️

Sam and Dean have lost count of how many exorcisms they’ve done over the years, but this one was particularly difficult. Not just because it was you, but because you had been set up, and possessed by the king of Hell himself. They knew this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park, and that much was clear when everything that could have gone wrong, did go wrong.

Crowley and Cleon knew the pair had been experts on exorcising demons. It was as if they had found a way to keep you locked away inside this little section in your own body, that not even holy water and Latin could help. It took hours and luckily you didn’t feel a thing during the whole process, but when you finally came too, and that cloud of black smoke violently exited your mouth, you felt everything ten fold.

“Y/n,” Sam said as the brothers rushed to the middle of the demon trap where you lay unconscious and restrained.

Sam unbuckled your wrists from the cold metal chair as Dean unbuckled your ankles. Your body was limp, and you had been so battered and bruised that it took the brothers a moment to be sure that you were even alive.

“Baby,” Dean said, lightly tapping your face, trying to snap you out of it. But still you sat unconscious before them. There was a slice open on your arm, belly and thigh, still bleeding. The brothers went back and forth over what they should do first, knowing that if they stitched you up while you were still awake, it would’ve been much more difficult, but they also knew they had to get you cleaned up first.

“Dean,” Sam said, lifting your dead weight from your underarms and scooping you up over his shoulders. “Follow me.”

They agreed that a bath needed to happen first, so Dean led Sam out of the storage room and to the bathroom, kneeling down to turn the warm water on. Feeling your heartbeat on his shoulder as he walked was a relief to Sam, who wasn’t sure you were going to survive. And now, as the water began filling up the porcelain claw foot bath tub, he set you down on the sink, sitting up against the mirror while the two brothers worked in unison to undress you. Normally, this would be an erotic, sexual moment for all three of you, but right now, sex was the last thing Sam and Dean were thinking about. Their only priority was to get you to wake up.

Once you were nude, Dean scooped you off the counter and into the warm, clear water, letting your neck rest against the rim of the tub. The first thing you noticed when you started to regain consciousness was the burning in your belly as the water entered the wound. Sam was the first one to notice the movement behind your closed eyes. He immediately crouched down on the floor, taking a wet washcloth and gently running it across your forehead, down your cheeks, and along your jawline. “Y/n,” he whimpered. “You’re okay.”

Dean knelt down next to Sam, observing your every move and he was the first thing you saw when your eyes opened. His green eyed gaze was one of concern, and fear. Maybe even terror.

You winced in pain and Dean immediately brought a hand to your head, gently shushing you as Sam gently cleaned the slice on your arm with the washcloth. “Please,” you grabbed Sam's hand. “It hurts.”

“I know, baby,” Sam replied, and stopped wiping the wound for a second to assure you that it would be okay, but that he had to finish. “I promise it’ll be over soon.” He said, moving his way down to the cut on your belly, and the sting was even worse now, causing you to shriek and cry in pain.

Dean whimpered, hating seeing you like this, and he reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips while you squeezed him with white knuckles. “Shhhh,” Dean shushed you quietly. “Sweetheart, it’s going to be okay.”

You closed your eyes and tried to block out as much as you could, and Dean didn’t let go of you once while Sam finished cleaning you off.

Once it was over, both of them helped you stand up. Every bone and muscle in your body was tense, and sore. Dean wrapped you in a towel and carried you to your bedroom while Sam went and retrieved their first aid kid. Finally to your room, you were still shivering from the shock of cold air after being in warm water.

“D-Dean,” you shivered. “It’s frickin’ fr-freezing,” you said as he set you down on your bed.

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, doing his very best to comfort you. He knew deep down there wasn’t much he could do until Sam got you stitched up, but he silently swore to himself that once it was over, he was going to put you in one of his hoodies, under the covers and he was never letting you out of his sight again. In the meantime, all he could do was hold your shoulders while he stood over you on the edge of the bed.

Only a minute or two had passed when Sam came into your room with a first aid kit, and a bottle of vodka.

“Nope,” you said, quickly exiting Dean's embrace when you caught a glimpse of the bottle of vodka, knowing damn well they were going to try pouring it over your open, bleeding cuts. “No fucking chance.”

“Baby,” Sam said, kneeling next to his brother in front of you. “It’s only going to burn for a second, I promise.” He looked up at you with puppy dog eyes and furrowed brows. You responded with a scowl, and laid down to try and block all of this out. Dean quickly settled in behind you, crosslegged, allowing you to rest your head in his lap. You appreciated them trying to take care of you, but right now, you hated them. You loved them, yes. But hated them at the same time.

Suddenly, while Dean's strong and rough hands grazed the wet hair out of your eyes, you felt a sting on your lower belly, and it took everything out of you to not scream. You gripped the sheets with one hand, while the other squeezed Dean's hand, your grip like a vice cutting off his circulation. Other than that, you didn’t move, you didn’t say a word. The only sound that left you was a quiet whimper as a tear rolled down your cheek. Dean was quick to wipe the tear away, and deliver a firm yet soft kiss to your forehead. Sam just detached, working efficiently to stitch you up so you could all put this behind you, and get back to how things were before. While he seemed stoic on the outside, he was heartbroken for you on the inside.

It took a while to stitch everything up. Sam was moving slowly and gently, trying his best to not hurt you. He would take small breaks here and there to ask if you were okay, to caress or pat your bruised skin. You ended up closing your eyes while your head rested in Dean's lap, the soothing strokes against your face, through your hair and along the nape of your neck helping you relax. Even though the whole experience was a very unpleasant one, you’d never felt more loved by Sam and Dean.

“Okay, baby,” Sam said, setting the first aid kit on the floor. “We’re all done.” He crawled up the bed on his fists until he reached your face. Without a word, he firmly grabbed your face and kissed you while Dean continued stroking your hair. He didn’t open his mouth, he just kept his lips planted in yours, hating himself for having to be the one to stitch you up.

“You okay?” He finally broke the kiss. You nodded in response.

“I’m proud of you, Y/n,” he said looking deeply in your swollen, wet eyes.

“Yeah, you handled that like a champ baby girl,” Dean piggybacked off Sam’s praise.

You didn’t say anything, you just wiped your face and sat up to look back and forth between the brothers. After sitting in an awkward silence for a while, you figured that they were waiting for you to say something.

“Thank you,” you said to them, followed by another awkward silence.

The air hung heavy with an uncomfortable stillness. What were they waiting for? An invitation? Truth be told, you really just wanted to be alone.

“Well,” you started, struggling to stand up. “I better get some sleep.” You limped towards your bedroom door, signaling for them to get out.

“You - .” Sam stuttered, unsure of what to say.

“Y/n,” Dean stood up and walked towards you and the open door, reaching out for your hand, but you quickly pulled it away. “What’s going on?” He was concerned. The three of you started sharing a bed when this throuple started, and now was the one time you all absolutely should not be apart. “I know you’re upset-“

“Dean,” you cut him off. “I’m not upset.” You said, glaring at him, and then to Sam, who hadn’t moved from his spot. “I’m just exhausted and want to be alone.”

Sam stood up and joined his brother to stand in front of you. “I really don’t think you should be alone, babe.” He could see it in your eyes that something wasn’t right, and after what you’d just gone through, he didn’t blame you. He fell asleep on you when you got kidnapped by Crowley, and Dean was gone. Neither one of them wanted to leave you out of their sight.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “C’mon baby girl, let’s just put a movie on. We missed you.” You were starting to get annoyed now. Even though they were just trying to protect you and make sure you were okay, the only thing you wanted right now was to be alone.

“Guys,” you stood your ground. “Tomorrow. Goodnight. Love yous,” and you gently guided them out the door before slamming it behind you. You turned around, looking at your bed, trying to hold back tears. They were right, you really shouldn’t be alone, but it was what you wanted. You wanted your own bed. You wanted sleep. Needed sleep. So much so, that once you padded over to your bed, and slunk in under the covers, you were fast asleep.

Sam and Dean sat in the library in silence after you had gone to bed, both of them thinking about everything that’s happened. The trauma you just went through. They each blamed themselves. After about 20 silent minutes, Sam finally spoke.

“I mean, she’ll be okay, right?” Sam asked, looking at Dean, who had been zoned out, simply answered with a shrug of his shoulders.

Silence ensued once more before Sam broke it again. “She has to be.”

“Sam,” Dean started, cleaning his throat and standing up. “She went through something no human being ever should. She was possessed by a demon.” His gravelly voice echoed through the grandiose bunker. “She witnessed us torturing him. She may never look at us the same again.”

Sam didn’t respond, he just looked past Dean’s shoulder to see you standing there, eye glossed over. When Dean felt his gaze move, he turned to look and see what he was staring at. Dean didn’t scare easily, but the sight of you standing before them with no life in your eyes, arms planted firmly at your sides scared him.

“Sweetheart,” he stood up, knowing you were sleepwalking, also knowing that he had to try and wake you gently. “Let’s get you back to bed.” And as soon as he grabbed your hand, you violently shoved him away from you. He was angry, but quickly settled down, just confused on how to navigate this. Sam still didn’t move.

You tilted your neck to look behind Dean, Sam still sitting there, observing, and a single tear fell down your cheek.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He asked.

“It’s your fault,” you said in a sleepy voice that didn’t even sound like your own. “And yours,” you said, looking back at Dean.

You snapped out of it, and when you woke up in the middle of the library, you were confused. “Wh-what happened?” You said, whimpering in fear and confusion.

“It’s okay,” Sam said, quickly getting up from his seat to your side.

The brothers walked you back to your room in silence. You were shaking, and your heart was beating out of your chest. After sliding you back into bed, they both planted a loving kiss on your forehead and left you alone. They didn’t say anything to each other after the door closed; they just went their separate ways, to their own rooms.

The next couple of weeks were a blur. The three of you were more like roommates at this point, not lovers. You didn’t recognize yourself anymore. You didn’t recognize your own relationship either. The tension in the bunker hung thick in the air, but still Sam and Dean tried. They tried bringing you a cup of coffee, they tried putting on your favorite movies, they even came home with flowers on more than one occasion. And still, you were uninterested. You weren’t interested in anything other than laying in bed all day, and only getting up to use the bathroom and shower. You only ate when you felt as though you were going to faint, and Dean was constantly trying to get you to drink some water.

At night, when you’d lay in bed, you would sometimes hear them talking to each other. At first, it was words of encouragement. One would blame themselves, and the other would tell them it was nobody’s fault. Even in your catatonic state, you could recognize how sweet it was that the brothers loved each other, but they really loved you, too.

That changed quickly. After consistent push back from the brothers’ affections, tensions grew even higher, and those sweet and encouraging conversations turned into bickering. You could hear them go from blaming themselves into blaming each other. The echo of Dean telling Sam that it was his fault for falling asleep. Or Sam telling Dean that he shouldn’t have went to the bar after his questioning and should’ve come straight home. “What?” You whispered to yourself and immediately went downstairs. The brothers were in the kitchen tonight.

“You went out for fucking drinks?!” You didn’t make your entrance known, you just stormed into the kitchen with fury and anguish.

“What?!” Dean exclaimed, playing stupid, which only made you angrier.

“You went out for drinks!” You repeated.

“Y/n,” he reached for you, trying to calm you down.

“Don’t!” You shouted with a finger in the air, backing away from him.

“Baby,” he kept trying to calm you down.

“Sam was right,” you said with a whimper. Tears were streaming down your face now, every emotion you’ve been holding back for the last three weeks finally making its way out of the barricade you’ve built. “It’s your fault.”

You stormed off, crying, and Dean hadn’t tried to run after you. This was one of those situations that needed to calm down before anything can be rectified. He slunk back in his chair across from Sam and took a great swig of his lager.

“Dean, I,” Sam started to apologize for what he said, never intending for you to hear it.

“Don’t.” He cut Sam off quickly. “Just don’t, Sam.”

The bunker had gone from bickering to silence over the next 24 hours, and it was torture. You came to the realization that nothing was going to get better. Nothing was going to be the same. You stayed in your room all day, and waited to hear Sam and Dean go to bed for the night.

The next morning, Dean woke up and was ready to make it right. He had too. He was shirtless, and his gray sweatpants hung off his hips while he made his way to your room.

“Babe,” he said, gently tapping on your door, but there was no answer. “Sweetheart,” he said, slowly opening your door, but you weren’t there. He figured you were in the bathroom, but worry washed over him like a black curtain when you weren’t there either.

“Dean!” Sam said, running through the bunker to find you.

“I’m in here!” He shouted, still trying to think of where you might be. Or maybe you went to get one of your iced coffees.

“She’s gone,” Sam said, and Dean quickly turned his head, confused and wondering what the fuck he was talking about. But when he turned, he saw a note dangling from Sam’s fingers.

Sam and Dean,

I love you both. But this needs to be the end. Our relationship will never be the same. Please take care of each other.

With much love and many fond memories,

Y/n

“Fuck!” Dean shouted and ran to his room, Sam following closely behind him.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I am NOT letting her go, Sam,” he shoved a few random clothes in a duffle bag and walked towards the stairs. He had no clue where to go, or what to do, and he didn’t care. He was going to find you and bring you home, where you belonged.

Dean slid behind the steering wheel of his Impala, just resting there a moment, trying to think of places you could have gone. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the passenger door open and Sam slid in next to him.

“Let’s go,” he said.

[menofletters-and-mayhem]

I seriously need to take it easy on the dark romance novels on Kindle Unlimited because now every damn fic idea I have is about stalking and kidnapping.

[menofletters-and-mayhem]

k so i finished gen v and that is totally and completely NOT what i expected. now, on to the boys.

[menofletters-and-mayhem]

my gosh can someone please let me build them a fic 😍

⋆˚࿔ build-a-fic 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

➴ chose a position, an action and a setting (a number, letter, + creature), and write/request to your heart’s content!

𓂃 ࣪˖ a position

꒰ 1 ꒱ lotus

꒰ 2 ꒱ spooning

꒰ 3 ꒱ missionary

꒰ 4 ꒱ doggy

꒰ 5 ꒱ prone

꒰ 6 ꒱ scissoring

꒰ 7 ꒱ 69

꒰ 8 ꒱ standing

꒰ 9 ꒱ reverse cowgirl

꒰ 10 ꒱ spit roast

𓂃 ࣪˖ an action

꒰ A ꒱ pressing a thumb into their bottom lip

꒰ B ꒱ teasing a nipple between fingertips

꒰ C ꒱ wrapping a hand around the column of their throat

꒰ D ꒱ leaving a hickey on their neck

꒰ E ꒱ holding their hips in place

꒰ F ꒱ giving their ass a soft (or hard) spank

꒰ G ꒱ leaving scratches on their back

꒰ H ꒱ holding their thighs apart

꒰ I ꒱ covering their mouth to quieten them

꒰ J ꒱ wiping away tears of pleasure

𓂃 ࣪˖ a setting

꒰ 𓆉 ꒱ a spare bedroom

꒰ 𓅨 ꒱ a fireplace-lit living room

꒰ 𓆣 ꒱ a bar bathroom

꒰ 𓃰 ꒱ a truck bed

꒰ 𓃗 ꒱ a cheap, flimsy tent

꒰ 𓃱 ꒱ a seedy motel room

꒰ 𓃟 ꒱ a balcony

꒰ 𓆟 ꒱ a work office

꒰ 𓆈 ꒱ a boutique dressing room

꒰ 𓅫 ꒱ an empty hallway

[menofletters-and-mayhem]

The Monster’s Gone

WARNINGS - before you read, this fic mentions domestic abuse and violence.

Summary - The reader is in a long term relationship with a Mayan prospect, but after years of emotional and verbal abuse, things get physical. After going to Alvarez for help, Jax Teller ends up being your savior.

rating/tags - 18+ violence and hot steamy sex. Protective!Jax, touch her and die trope.

Javi had a thing for you in high school, but if you were being honest with yourself, he was always kind of a jerk. From the moment you started dating him during your senior year when he went off to college, he was domineering, and controlling. Once he became a prospect for the Mayans M.C, it got even worse.

The two of you lived in a crummy, run down apartment in Oakland, and you hated it. There were a few times when you tried to go back to live with your mom, but you could never follow through with it. Javier Martinez had you in a chokehold that you couldn’t escape from. He had you so brainwashed that you really believed that you would crash and burn without him. That’s what narcissists do, right? They tear you down, over and over again until you believe the lies about your own self that they fill your head with. You knew it had to end, you just didn’t know how.

“The fuck are you doin’? Javi asked, walking into your bedroom, where you sat at your old vanity, putting on a little makeup for the party that was happening at the junkyard tonight. Javi isolated you completely from your old friends from high school, and you barely talked to your mom anymore, so the club was your only family. Your only friends.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, pausing putting your mascara on to turn and look at him. “What’s it look like I’m doing?” You turned back around to finish putting a second coat of mascara on your tired eyes.

“Always gotta make yourself look good, huh?” He said, standing up to walk towards you. You didn’t flinch because up until this point, Javi never laid a finger on you. He crouched down and grabbed the back of your neck, standing behind you, looking at you through his own reflection of the vanity mirror. “I guess once a whore, always a whore,” he said through gritted teeth.

You pushed yourself away from him, scowling at him in the mirror. “Don’t you fucking ever lay a hand to me again.” You said angrily, trying as hard as you possibly could to not cry. “I am your old lady, not some puta that hangs around your fuckin’ clu-” and before you could even finish your statement, Javi grabbed the back of your head by your hair and slammed your face into the vanity, your nose bleeding, and a bump already forming on your head.

“Do not,” he said, standing you up, forcing you to look at him, “ever forget your place.” He said, delivering one more open handed smack to your left cheek. He walked away and put his kutte on, and headed out the door without you.

You stood there silently in the middle of your bedroom, looking around with tears streaming down your face. You didn’t move until you heard the hum of his motorcycle, and the sound of his engine disappearing in the distance. Now was your chance, and you had to take it.

Without even thinking twice, you grabbed two of your duffle bags out of your closet, quickly taking everything you could fit out of your dresser drawers. You haphazardly threw a few pairs of bras and undies, a couple pairs of pants, and a few shirts into your bags, unfolded. You ran to the bathroom, grabbing your toothbrush, and your body wash and shampoo. On your way out of the bathroom, you saw the framed photo of you and Javi on your nightstand. Throwing it against the wall and shattering it into a thousand pieces was the last thing you did before running out of the apartment.

You didn’t know where to go, so you drove slowly to the junkyard, hoping you’d see Angel, or maybe even Alvarez. You just prayed on everything you ever loved that Javi didn’t see you. You were afraid of what he might have done if he saw you with your bags packed. You saw him for what he really was now, and he was a psychopath, and you knew he had the nerve to kill you. He was afraid of nothing.

Alvarez pulled up to the junkyard, and before he could pull into the lot, you flashed your high beams at him, trying to get his attention. He dismounted his bike, and walked towards your beat up old Mazda.

“Que pasa?” He said, resting his hand on the window.

You turned towards him, letting him see your swollen face, your broken nose, and your black eye. “Dios mio,” he said, running his fingers along his mustache, smoothing it out. “He did this?” You didn’t say anything, you just nodded.

“I’ll talk to Angel about it,” he started, but you quickly cut him off.

“No,” you pleaded. “Please,” you began to cry now. “Please, just help me, or don’t say anything to anyone.”

He thought for a moment. Alvarez wasn’t the kind of guy to go behind his club's back, but this wasn’t club business, and Javi was a prospect. “I think I know where I can take you,” he said and headed towards his bike, waving to you in a “follow me” motion. And you did.

You followed him for about 20 miles into the small town of Charming. You knew that Javi came here often to do business with the Sons of Anarchy, but you did not expect it to look like this at all. Finally, he turned down a small, quiet street, and into the driveway of a small, modest looking home. Alvarez told you to stay in the car for a few minutes while he handled something, so you watched and waited. He knocked on the door and the man who opened it was undoubtedly the most handsome man you had ever laid eyes on. He was shirtless, of course, since it was 10 o’clock and he was probably getting ready for bed. Alvarez and the blonde pretty boy chatted for about 5 minutes, and you could tell it was getting heated, but Alvarez turned and waved for you to come to the door.

“Jesus Christ,” the shirtless blonde said as he took a look at your face. You tried to hide it, but it was nearly impossible. “Who did this to you?” he asked, bringing his thumb and forefinger to your chin, moving your face around to inspect the damage.

“One of my prospects,” Alvarez answered. “It’s being handled.” Then, he looked over to you. “Y/n,” he motioned towards the man in the doorway. “This is Jax Teller.” He finally let go of your chin and reached his hand out to shake yours. “Jax,” you gently put your hand in his. “This is Y/n.”

“Sorry to have to meet you this way, darlin’.”

You didn’t respond, you just tucked in your lips to give a half-assed smile. It wasn’t his fault, so you were trying to be polite.

“You may want to hide your car in the garage while we get this straightened out.” Jax said.

You turned quickly on your heels towards your car and moved it into the garage. You put the car in park and walked back towards the front door. Jax took your bags, and as he turned to walk away, you saw the Sons of Anarchy ink on his back. “No fucking way,” you thought to yourself. Alvarez knew you were in good hands, and he leaned down to kiss your cheek and whispered in your ear. “Don’t worry, amor,” he said. “He won’t hurt you anymore.” And just like that, he was gone, and you walked into Jax’s cozy home.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked, after coming out of his bedroom, putting on a fresh white t-shirt as he walked. You didn’t say anything, you just shook your head and walked towards the couch, sitting down meekly.

“Look,” he said, grabbing his kutte off the hook by the front door. “I just have to go run a really quick errand. I should only be gone a half hour,” he said, slinging both arms through his leather vest. You looked up at him nervously and he walked towards you with concern in his eyes, kneeling down on one knee in front of the couch to be eye level with you. “I won’t be gone long,” he said, gently running his fingers through your hair to comfort you. “No one is going to hurt you, Y/n,” he stood up. “I promise.”

As he walked towards the door, he wrote his number down on a post it, and stuck it to the table by the entry way. He didn’t say anything, he just flashed it in your direction so you knew where it was and you nodded.

When he left, you walked to the door to make sure it was locked and decided to take a look around Jax’s humble abode. It was cute, you thought. You made your way through the kitchen, and spotted a tea kettle on the back burner on the stove. Thinking to yourself that a hot cup of tea would be perfect to settle your nerves, so after filling it with water, and putting it on the stove, you walked through the rest of the house. It looked like a regular house, with regular rooms, and a regular life, but deep down, you knew his life was anything but normal.

You were in the bathroom now, studying the shower that you couldn’t wait to be in when you heard the tea kettle starting to whistle from the kitchen. It felt weird rummaging through the cabinets of a stranger's home, just as much as it felt weird sitting on the couch of this stranger's home with your cup of chamomile tea, but damn if it wasn’t cozy. There was a blanket draped over the couch, and you flipped the tv and made yourself comfortable, wondering what Jax was doing, and still battling with a nagging feeling that you weren’t safe until he got back.

Jax’s Harley hummed along the highway, and Opie rode next to him. They were on their way back from a visit with the Irish; nothing serious, they just had to make sure their ducks were all in a row before a deal next week. But Jax didn’t say anything to Opie about the battered woman at his house. He knew that if the club knew, they would need to meet about it and Jax was not in the mood. Anything that needed to be discussed can wait until tomorrow. He wondered what he would do with you tomorrow, knowing he couldn’t leave you alone. At least not until he knew you were safe. If anything happened to you while under his protection, not only would he never forgive himself, but Alvarez wouldn’t either.

Jax followed Opie into his driveway, and once Ope dismounted his bike, and took his helmet off, he looked at Jax with curiosity.

“Where’s the fire, dude?” He asked while Jax reached in his pocket for a smoke. He knew he had to keep a straight face. Even though Opie was his best friend, some things just needed to be kept a secret for now. So he came up with a believable lie, that wasn’t completely a lie.

“Nah, man,” he said, taking a drag of his Newport, with a little shit eating grin. Something about being secretive was exciting to Jax. He almost took pleasure in it. “Just got a cute little thing waiting for me at home.”

See? Not a complete lie. There was a cute little thing waiting for him at his house.

Opie nodded his head, knowing he’d be in a rush too if he had a promise of sex waiting for him at home. “I get it, brother,” he said, smacking Jax’s hand, bringing him in for a one armed hug, delivering a firm smack to his back. “Wrap it up,” he said, assuming there was some croweater waiting for you. But, what Opie doesn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Jax beelined to his house, careful to not get pulled over by the new sheriff who’d been up his ass lately, but also going faster than he normally would down the quiet streets of Charming.

When he pulled down his street, he saw an unfamiliar motorcycle parked a few houses down from his. It wasn’t one of his guys’ since the bike had ape hangers. “Shit,” he said, but he parked further down the street, not wanting to spook anyone and he didn’t want you to get hurt if anyone was there to hurt you. As soon as he shut off his bike, he ran as fast as he could to his next door neighbors, quietly crouching down to walk along his front lawn, peeking in the windows, but he didn’t see you. All he saw was a broken coffee mug on the floor by his couch. “Shit,” he said again, quickly running into the front door.

He didn’t speak, he just unholstered his gun, tiptoeing through the house with his gun pointed out, ready to shoot at the intruder. After clearing the kitchen, the bathroom, and the living room, he made his way to the back of the house where his bedroom was, only to find you, and who he knew had to have been Javi.

Javi had you pinned against the wall, with one hand around your throat and another covering your mouth. Jackson cocked the gun and pointed it in Javi's direction. His face was covered in animalistic rage, his eyebrows raised and he was looking at Javi with an evil grin.

“Do you know who I am?” Jax said quietly, not moving. Javi eased the grip from your throat but kept your mouth covered. You looked at Jax, completely panicked, knowing Javi could easily kill you.

“Yeah,” Javi responded, tightening his grip over your mouth. “You’re el presidente of the Sons.” He said, unimpressed.

“And you think it was a good idea to break into my house, and try to kill your old lady?” He said, taking a small step towards him, still pointing the gun in his direction. Jax knew Javi didn’t have the balls to hurt you or him, but you didn’t. You were scared for your life, not knowing what the hell either of these men were capable of.

“I wasn’t gonna kill her,” he said, turning back towards you. You shut your eyes tightly, tears streaming from the corners when he buried his face in your neck. “I really loved you, Y/n,” he whispered in your ear, eliciting a pathetic whimper from your covered mouth. You kept your eyes shut, trying your very best to not move, hoping that Jax would put an end to this.

“This is what you want?” Javi shouted at you, pointing to Jax. Always the jealous type. You weren’t even allowed to look at other men, and now you knew that Javi was seething with rage to find you in another man’s home. Despite being near death, you took pleasure in knowing that it wasn’t your problem anymore, that you no longer belonged to him.

Javi released the grip from your mouth. And you looked at him and mustered up the strength to actually smirk at him, letting out an amused chuckle. “I want anything that’s not you,” you said, getting as close to his face as possible without touching him. Then something came over you, something you couldn’t control. You spat in his eye, and laughed.

“Puta estupida!” Javi shouted, bringing his fist back to clock you, but before you felt the fist hit your skin, you heard a gunshot, and a thud.

Your ears rang, and after that, blank. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move. Without even being able to move your head to look down at the floor, you knew that Javi was dead. The smell of gunsmoke and metal permeated the air as you stayed perched against the wall. You couldn’t be sure, but you felt something warm splatter on your face that was dry by the time two members of the Sons arrived at Jax’s. You didn’t know these men, but one was tall with a beard, and the shorter one had tattoos on his head. Still you stood against the wall, and as the two men who worked in unison to clean up the mess, Jax stood in front of you, hands on your face, and saying your name. You couldn’t process anything, all you could see were two blue eyes looking into yours with concern, his brow furrowed and lips drawn into a frown.

“Y/n” he said, careful to not shake you, his thumbs just caressed your cheeks in hopes to snap you out of it.

“She’s in shock,” the shorter Son with a mohawk and tattoos on either side of his head said to Jax, matter-of-factly.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Jax turned to look at the man, puffing out his chest, but still keeping his hands on your face. You just stared blankly at him when he turned back to you, still unable to speak, but your mind was very much aware.

“C’mon, girl,” Jax said, bringing your right arm over his shoulder and snaking his arm behind the back of your knees, quickly lifting you up in a swift motion. He walked you into the bathroom and set you down on the counter, reaching in to turn the warm water on in the shower. “Nothing weird,” he said, gently tugging your shirt off and unhooking your bra. “I promise.” He undressed you and stood you up in the shower, careful not to get himself wet. When you were standing up, your knees buckled and he knew it wasn’t safe for you to be in there alone, so Jax undressed himself and slid in with you. He ran his hand from your forehead, and back along your head, to the nape of your neck, letting the warm water saturate your hair completely. You had dried blood on your face that he wiped away with his wet thumb, and you still weren’t reacting.

“Please snap out of it, darlin’.” He said, his strong hands holding your face by your jaw, his thumbs stroking the soft spot by your ears. Jax was used to this kind of violence, but he knew you weren’t. So he waited patiently, bringing his forehead to yours. He whispered to you that it's okay, and you finally started to come to.

“Wh-“ he heard and he stood up straight to look in your eyes, seeing life come back into them. “What happened?”

He smiled at you with relief, and told you to get cleaned up, and he’ll explain everything after. Jax waited for you to finish your shower, leaning against the sink with a towel wrapped around his waist. When he heard the shower turn off, he got a towel ready for you, and as soon as the shower curtain pulled back, he wrapped it around your shoulders, holding it against your chest.

“You okay?” He said, still clinging to the towel at your chest, looking deeply in your eyes. But you didn’t say anything - you just tightened your lips into a thin line and nodded your head.

The rest of the night was honestly a blur. Jax killed a Mayan, and even though he was a prospect, he was worried about what kind of heat this would bring to the club. The only thing he could worry about at this point was you, and the heap of a human being laying in the fetal position on his bed.

“Sweetheart,” he said, “c’mon, get some clothes on. You’re freezing.” He brought his hand to your shoulder, making your shivering body jump. The jump startled him, and Jax licked his lips, knowing that he was going to have to help. This wasn’t the first time he saw a naked woman before, but this was the first time he saw a naked woman, in shock, shivering from the fear and cold on his bed.

He grabbed a clean t-shirt from his dresser drawer and a pair of shorts from another. Helping you get dressed was easy, because you just went limp and let him do what he needed to do - like a rag doll.

“Is he gone?” You asked as Jax covered you with the blankets once your head hit his soft pillow.

“He won’t be bothering you anymore,” he said, brushing wet strands of hair from your head. And within moments, you were sound asleep.

Jax couldn’t sleep, so he watched TV on the couch, mindlessly flicking his Zippo. He had a million and one thoughts running through his head. The club. Alvarez. The Irish. But one thing he kept coming back to was you. Your battered face. The violence you had witnessed. If you were ever going to be okay again. Would you recover? Would you ever trust anyone again? Would your mind erase the trauma? He’d hoped so. But too many times he has seen women be abused and never be the same again. And as that thought crossed his head, he heard a scream coming from his bedroom.

Quickly, and panicked, he got up and ran to his bedroom, flipping the lights on as soon as he opened the door. You were screaming, kicking, punching air. Fighting for your life from whatever haunted your dreams.

“Hey,” he said, sitting on the bed and bringing your flailing body in his arms. “Y/n,” he exclaimed, holding you as tight as he could, restraining you from kicking and punching. “It’s okay.”

You finally started to wake up, in a daze, taking a few minutes to be able to decipher dream from reality.

“Oh my god,” you said, humiliated. You lie back down, covering your face with Jax’s comforter. You were embarrassed.

“Y/n,” he slid into bed behind you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. “I promise you, he’s never going to bother you again.”

Javi was dead, you knew that. And you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t relieved. He was gone, but the heart beating out of your own chest from the nightmare, and the gentle pulse you felt pressed up against your back reminded you that Jax was very much alive. You were very much alive - and for that you were thankful.

“Thank you,” you said, turning around to face Jax. It was the most sincere thanks you’d ever given. The monster was gone. And he saved you.

Jax didn’t respond. He just brought a hand to your face and looked in your eyes. His baby blues melted you and you wanted to kiss him so badly. But you couldn’t. Even though he was gone, you still felt like you were cheating on Javi. And as if he read the thought as it crossed your mind, Jax kissed you. He kissed you deeply. Passionately. And you’d be damned to break the kiss.

The two of you lie there for a while in each others arms, kissing each other. Your fingers interlaced with his dirty blonde locks while he gently ran a hand up and down your spine. He was gentle, caring, and you didn’t know what it was like to feel that. Javi was the only man you’d ever been with, and he was never passionate. Jax was used to quick fucks and blowjobs from croweaters but he knew you were different. Fragile. Innocent. He knew he had to be gentle with your heart, mind and body. His hands snaked around to your belly, grabbing for the hem of his soft t-shirt, and he lifted it up, his hands lingering over your stomach, sternum, chest and neck and he took it off, throwing it on the floor next to his bed.

Jax rolled over to get on top of you, now lying on your back. Resting on his fists now, looking at you with a smirk, you craved his touch. You craved his kiss. You craved all of him. So you desperately wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss, and he kissed you again. After a few minutes, Jax broke the kiss, burying his face in your neck, breathing in your scent, peppering light kisses along your neck and jawline, before gently biting your ear lobe. He stopped when he heard a sniffle, looking back at your face and noticing a single tear streaming down your cheek.

“Hey,” he said gently, wiping the tear away with his calloused thumb. “Hey,” he said again. “It’s okay.” You chuckled with embarrassment, and you cursed yourself in your head, thinking why you just couldn’t keep it together. You thought for sure you just blew it. You blew your chance by crying during foreplay. He was going to think you were a lose cannon.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said.

“No,” you said, looking at him. “I want to.”

“Are you sure, darlin’?”

You nodded before delivering another embarrassed smile in his direction.

“I’m sure. I just- “ you started, wiping your face and looking up at the ceiling. You wanted to tell him the truth but you thought you were going to sound pathetic. “I just have never felt…this.” You motioned with your finger back and forth between the two of you.

“What is ‘this’?” He said, mimicking the same motion you just made, smirking.

“Just…” you placed a hand on his shoulder. “This. Love, or passion, or touch.”

That broke his heart for you. He wanted to take care of you. Jax could see you, he could see who you were. You were kind, and innocent. He knew what you deserved.

“Then let me treat you the way you deserve,” he said, leaning down to kiss you again.

He kissed you for a few more minutes, and made his way down your body, bringing your swollen nipple in his mouth. You gasped quietly in pleasure, arching your back to him. He looked up at you, smiling and flicking the swollen bud with his tongue, sucking on it and gently grazing it with his front teeth.

“Fuck,” you shrieked. “Jax.” The moan that left your mouth was desperate, and horny. He didn’t respond, he just made his way to the other nipple, bringing it into his mouth and swirling the other between his thumb and forefinger.

He spent a few more minutes paying attention to your sensitive breasts, and then kissed and gently licked down your belly, and to your panty line, hooking two fingers into the waistband, pulling them off in one motion. You didn’t move, you just lie there on your back, looking at the ceiling.

“Look at me, baby girl,” he said, and you obeyed, locking eyes with him before he dove into your wet folds, feasting and lapping up and down your slit like a starved animal. Your eyes didn’t leave his, you just watched as he licked from your wet hole, up to your clit, the animalistic look in eyes only making you more wet.

“Jax,” you moaned, and he brought your swollen and needy clit into his mouth, sucking it and flicking it the same way he had done with your nipples. You lifted your hips towards him, desperate for him. He moaned in response, taking two fingers and playing with your pussy lips. He was teasing you now, the grip his mouth had on your clit was unrelenting and punishing.

His eyes were back on you when he entered one long finger into your core, curving it upwards, and the moan that left your mouth didn’t even sound like you. You had never felt pleasure like this in your life, and Jax knew. He knew what he was doing to you and this made him chuckle arrogantly and you giggled in response. His ego was getting the best of him when he entered a second finger, sucking faster on your nub, and this put you over the edge. The only time you ever had an orgasm was when you played with yourself, and you felt the same tingle go down your spine, all the way down to your curling toes. “Fuck,” your body tightened as your gripped onto his sheets, your fingernails leaving half-moon imprints on your palms. “Please,” you moaned, and Jax didn’t ease up. He kept sucking your clit and fucking your pussy with two fingers, massaging your g-spot. He knew you were about to find release when you tightened around his digits. He didn’t dare stop. He just gave a muffled “mhm.”

That coil that was wound tight in the pit of your belly was sending a tingle to your head as your eyes rolled back. And when you finally came, your pussy twitched hard and fast around Jax’s fingers. He slowed down as the aftershocks of your orgasm started to cease. He came up from between your legs, snaking up your body before planting a deep kiss on your lips. You could taste yourself on him when you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“What do you want, Y/n?” He asked, smirking. Was he really going to make you ask?

“Fuck me, Jax,” you pleaded, pulling him in closer with your legs. He smiled down at you before responding.

“You want me to fuck you baby?” He leaned in closer to your ear. “Ask nicely.” His breath was warm in your ear and you shuttered from underneath him.

“Please,” you begged, hardly able to breathe.

“Please, what?” He said, amused by the torment he was putting you through.

“Please,” you gripped his back, trying to pull him into you. “Please fuck me.”

And without another word, his long, thick cock entered your dripping pussy slowly and concentrated. You gently ran your fingers through the back of his head and gripped his hair, needing to hold on to something. “Fuck,” you said. You were expecting him to be large, but not this large. You were in ecstasy, and he finally entered you all the way. He pulled out, and back in. After doing this a few times, getting you acclimated to his size, he started thrusting faster.

He bowed his head, touching the tip of his nose to yours, and he kissed you. You opened your mouth to let his tongue enter, and you could still taste your juices on him. As you were kissing him, the tip of his cock hit your sweet spot, eliciting a long, breathy moan into his mouth. Jax broke the kiss to smile down on you.

“You like that?” He asked, grinding into you harder now, all the way in, and all the way out. The pleasure was overwhelming as his cock hit every sweet spot in your cunt.

You nodded your head in response, and he kissed you again. He felt your pussy tighten around him, and as if you had fucked him hundreds of times, he could tell you were about to orgasm again, and he completely withdrew from inside of you. His swift exit provoked a whine, and you were almost ashamed of your own desperation. But you didn’t care. You were right on the brink of an orgasm.

“Not yet, babes,” Jax said, looking at you with an evil grin before quickly flipping you over. You were impressed by his ability, by his strength. Without a word, he slammed his hard cock inside of you, fucking you from behind. You thought his pace was punishing before, but that was nowhere near how you felt now. The pleasure was so overwhelming as he pounded into you hard and fast from behind.

You felt a gentle tug from your hair, while his other hand dug into your hips, using it for support to fuck you. Unable to move, speak, or moan you just lie there, mouth open in ecstasy. “Fuck,” he groaned from behind you, bringing his hand from your hair, down your back, and finding its way to your ass cheek that was bouncing off of him. “You’re fuckin’ drippin’ doll.” You finally found the will to let out a quiet moan.

“Do you wanna come?” He asked, straining but not quite out of breath. You nodded in response.

“Come with me, baby,” he pounded harder, about to find his own release as you found yourself back to the precipice of an orgasm. Your pussy clenched around his cock, you can feel it getting even harder with his building release. Your eyes rolled back into your head, moaning and whining as your cunt twitched around him. “That’s it,” he said, able to feel you orgasm around him. “That’s a good girl, come for me.”

Your orgasm lasted another few seconds before you felt his warm seed pool on your ass, dripping down your thighs.

He was gone. And you quickly felt that familiar sting of abandonment. But within seconds, Jax was back with a warm washcloth and he wiped off your legs and ass before collapsing on the bed next to you.

Jax reached on his nightstand to get a pack of smokes. After lighting the cigarette, he put his arm around you, and you rolled over to look at him, smiling.

Smiling back at you, he blew out a small puff of smoke. “What?” He asked, knowing good and well what you were smiling over.

“Nothing.” You said bashfully.

The two of you laid there in silence for a few moments before Jax put his smoke out and turned to face you, brushing your hair out of your face.

“I think I’ll keep you.”

@bellaxgiornata (my only tag friend 🤣)

[menofletters-and-mayhem]

[menofletters-and-mayhem]

reblogging for later because im a whore for some CNC action

Female Reader x Jax Teller (1st person y/n POV) TW: Possible spoilers, explicit & sexual language.

series masterlist.

This fic will eventually include things that may be triggering to readers. This consists of: Talk of CNC (Consensual non consent), the actual act of CNC, rough/dominant sex, aggressive/abusive language & actions, masked!Jax, knife play, blood, explicit & threatening language. Please read triggers on each individual part. | MDNI, Strictly 18+

"So you're a writer...let me guess. Arts and crafts? Baking? somethin' along those lines?" His eyes crinkle at the corners as he leans against my kitchen counter, coffee in hand. I know he’s teasing, but how the hell do I tell the actual biker standing in my place that I wrote the filthiest, smuttiest, sluttiest book imaginable, about the world he fucking lives in.

Jax Teller lives in the apartment next to me, I moved in just over a week ago, and he's been nothing but helpful, when he has the time obviously. After introducing himself, he helped me carry boxes from the underground parking lot to my front door, helped me assemble some flat packed furniture and even bought lunch over for me a few times when I was too busy to even think of food.

"That's the vibe I give off?" I laugh, glancing at him from across the kitchen table. My laptop sits open in front of me as I flick between notes for book two and keeping up to date with my fav mutuals, still obsessing over our fictional men. Though technically strangers, I class them as friends. I shut the laptop as Jax steps closer and drops into the chair beside me.

"Just curious darlin', the fact you haven't told me yet makes me think its something..." He gives me a look, and tilts his head backwards like he’s waiting for me to fill in the blank.

"Something like..." I ask, narrowing my eyes and playing along.

"Googled your name" he admits, the slightest hint of colour flushing his cheeks "Couldn't find shit. You hidin' somethin'?" He smirks, that cocky fucking look all over his face.

Something in my stomach flips. The image of Jax next door, maybe stretched out on the couch or in bed, phone in hand and thinking about me...was almost too much. Of course he didn't find anything. That’s what pen names are for, baby.

"Not hiding" I say with a wink, "Just...keeping shit… separate" I try not to shift in my seat as heat crawls up my spine and in between my thighs. He hasn’t even done anything to warrant such a reaction, but it’s becoming harder to act as if my actual fucking fantasy isn’t sitting right in front of me.

I watch him over the rim of my mug, the smirk still tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Didn't peg you for the stalker type" I say, swallowing the last of my now cold coffee.

"I already know where you live, darlin" his voice drops significantly lower. "Not much stalkin' left to do" He holds my gaze and neither of us blink until we both crack up laughing. I wonder though, if under the sound of that shared laugh, can he hear the pounding of my pulse.

I suck in a breath and let it sit there until it felt heavy in my chest. I mean, he was probably going to find out eventually, so might as well get this shit over with now. Without a word, I turn my back on him and walk to the bedroom. I know damn well his eyes are locked on me, probably trying to figure out where the fuck I was going.

I pull open my top draw and grab one of the first printed copies I had, my fingers pausing over the title for a short second as I laugh softly to myself, already bracing for his reaction. When I walk back into the room, I toss it casually in his direction. He catches it without effort. "Kuttes and bruises?" he reads the title out loud, the corners of his mouth twitching. He clocks it instantly, his thumb brushing over the word ‘kutte’ and the way it’s been spelt like the leather he wears on his back everyday.

He then begins flicking through the pages with casual curiosity. His eyes scanning quickly his grin starts to spread. Not cocky though, or mocking just amused. Deeply, darkly amused. His eyes dance across the pages, before he sets the book down with a smile "And I'm the stalker?"

I roll my eyes, but he isn’t finished yet.

"You write about outlaws and...sex...not the lovey dovey shit either, this is..." he stops himself, his lips curling with every growing word as his head shakes "…and you just happen to move in next door to me? An actual outlaw, rides a Harley, runs an MC. Has a bit of a reputation..." He pauses, just long enough to make the moment mean something "And, has some pretty rough sex once in a while" The smugness in his voice was infuriating, but in that 'fuck, I'm wet' kinda way.

"That's not stalking Jax" I say, biting back a laugh as I fold my arms across my chest. "I didn't know shit about you or your lil crew before I moved here. Its just a..." He doesn't even let me finish.

"Don't say a coincidence, y/n" His voice cuts in low and so sure of himself. "Its more like fate darlin'" That damn smile reaches his eyes again as he picks the book back up, looking through it like it holds all of my secrets. He's too comfortable with how he does it too, and it makes me want to scream and kiss him at the same fucking time.

I open my mouth to argue, to say something but nothing comes out. Because really, he's not wrong. What kind of sick, twisted fate plants me next door to the exact type of man I've been writing about? An outlaw with a jawline sharp enough to draw blood and a Harley that growls like thunder. My oh so helpful, I-cant-look-at-him-too-long-or-ill-drip, fucking neighbour.

I'd finally collapsed into the couch with a much needed drink. It’s been a few days since Jax walked out of here with my book in his hand and that mischievous demeanour. Why he took it, I'm still not sure. I assumed it was to read, but since then, nothing. I've seen him a few times in the building but he hasn't said a single word about the damn thing. No teasing, no smart ass comments about the words hiding in the pages, so maybe he hasn't read it after all.

My laptop sits untouched next to the flickering candle on the coffee table, the screen dim but full of judgment. I'm stuck. Proper, painfully stuck. Writers block is a bitch, and right now she's got her claws in me deep. The first book poured out of me like a confession, all my fantasies laid bare across the pages. But now that it’s blown up and people actually care, the pressures got me by the fucking throat. Book two has to hit harder and go deeper in every aspect. I just need to work out how.

A knock at the door snaps me out of my haze. I scrunch my face in confusion and reach for my phone to check the time. 10:11PM. I’m not expecting anyone and it’s late as hell for a delivery. Dragging myself out of my cozy pit, I pad barefoot across my apartment. The second I glance through the peephole, a shiver rolls through me. It’s him. Of course it fucking is.

He's stood there like sin. His kutte draped over a black hoodie, jeans loose at the waist and his blade tucked neatly at his hip. I open the door slowly, one hand holding onto the edge of it, and the other resting on my hip trying to act like I couldn't give a shit. We lock eyes for a second, but neither of us say a thing.

"Sorry it's late" he says, his voice rough. "Figured you were still up" He holds out my book to me and I take it slowly from him. Our fingers brush for not even a second but it’s enough to make my breath catch. I notice how his eyes subtly flick down to my oversized tee and bare legs.

I clear my throat, attempting to break the silence "Did you..." I start, then hesitate as I begin fidgeting with the book in my hand.

"Did I read it?" he finishes for me, stepping inside like it was second nature. He doesn’t sit, doesn’t move too far inside, just turns and leans casually against the arm of the sofa, studying me with an unreadable expression. "I did" he says simply.

I hold the book to my chest like it might shield me from the embarrassment, suddenly aware of every word i'd written. The power. The sex. The control. The MC world I'd created from pure imagination and a hyper fixation with a certain TV show. "Penny for your thoughts?"

His smirk deepens, but there's something behind it this time, A touch of appreciation, maybe curiosity I'm not too sure. "I'm impressed. You write like you've lived it. And to those who don’t know better, you could probably convince them. But for those who know the life too well...” He doesn’t come across cocky in how he’s saying it, even if he adds a wink at the end. “I can tell you haven’t”.

"Nope" I say quietly, popping the 'P' on purpose, the lump in my throat trying to scratch its way up. "Based on pure research".

His tongue darts between his lips "That cliffhanger you left it on? Brutal. How’s the next book coming along?"

I laugh a little, forcing a smile bigger than it needs to be “It’s…coming. Just not as easily as I hoped”

His eyes meet mine again, a seriousness in his gaze "I think I can help with that"

I open my mouth in surprise, my brows meeting in the middle. “How are you…how are you gonna do that?"

He taps his helmet. "Come to the clubhouse with me"

I jerk my head back slightly, not expecting that at all. His invitation hits me out of nowhere. "Are you serious?" I half laugh, caught somewhere between disbelief and intrigue.

He leans closer, "Yeah. Thought you might wanna experience this shit for real. Not just behind a screen, actually come live it for a night" His tone was casual, but the way he was watching me made it anything but.

"Jax, I..." I hesitate, the smallest part of me wanting to say no, but the other part, the much louder part was already screaming fuck yeah. I'd be stupid not to take the chance.

He could tell I was still tryna decide. "Come on" he says, drawing the words out with a lazy confidence, swinging the helmet up between us waving it in my direction. "I know you want to. And I'm gonna take a wild guess here and say you probably haven't been on the back of a bike before either?"

I let out a breath, laughing at myself "That obvious, huh?"

"That laugh just confirmed it"

I glance down at the helmet still in his hands, the reality of it all just about getting through to me. "Your guys aren't gonna be weird about it?" I ask, trying to sound chill but the words still come out a little tight. "You know... me showing up at the clubhouse unannounced. I'm like an... outsider"

He folds his arms across his kutte, one eyebrow cocked like I just said the dumbest thing he's heard all week. "Darlin' I'm the president" the corner of his mouth lifts just a little "What I say goes" Theres no brag in the way he says it either, just pure fact. He pushes off the couch and nods towards my bedroom "Go get changed. Somethin you're good to straddle a bike in. Jeans, boots. Just make sure you’re comfortable"

I blink repeatedly. “You’re giving me, like, no time to mentally or physically prepare”

He shrugs “Good. Don’t overthink it” Then, with that signature Jax Teller swag, he tosses a look over his shoulder as he makes his way towards the door. “Ten minutes. I’ll be downstairs”

I can’t help but roll my eyes, excitement slowly creeping in despite the nerves rising in my chest. He pauses just before stepping out, holding the helmet up. “Oh and don’t do anything fancy with your hair”his chin pointing upwards “This’ll mess it up”

“Do I have to wear it?” I bat my lashes, teasing even though I know how dangerous it would be to ride without one.

He doesn’t even flinch. “Nine minutes y/n” and with that, the door swings shut.

I turn on my heel with a quiet groan, heading straight for my bedroom like a woman on a mission. “I take that as a no then” I mutter, ripping open my wardrobe instantly thanking god for my addiction to black clothing. I grab my faded jeans, the ones that sit just right, paired with a ribbed tee, low enough to show a lil boobage without screaming desperation.

“Fuck” I say aloud to myself, I don’t own a single pair of boots. But then again, I’ve never seen Jax in boots either. Always in white air forces, how he kept them so fresh? No fucking idea but I definitely couldn’t imagine him brushing them clean. If he can wear his, so can I.

I skip the makeup as there’s literally no time, I push my hair back into a low bun, a few curls left free just to frame my face, nothing fancy, nothing extra, just me. With slight hesitation I yank the only leather jacket I own and complete my outfit. A little clichè but really who gives a fuck.

I brush my clammy palms down the denim and glance at myself in the mirror. I can’t help but bite my lower lip nervously. “I can’t believe I’m actually about to do this” I whisper grabbing my bag and blowing out the candle before stepping out.

Jax is already in the parking lot, leaning against his bike like a fucking king. His eyes meet mine the second I step out the elevator. They flick down my body slow and deliberate before they land on my shoes.

“No boots?” He says, like he’s trying to hold back a laugh.

“No boots” I echo, placing one foot beside his “thought we’d match”

“Tryna be cute?”

I brush it off, fiddling with the zipper of my bag “not at all” I smile, looking back up to him.

Then without a word, he moves closer “Come here” he gently slides the helmet on top of my head, careful not to tug too hard. “Just gonna tuck these in” he lets me know, tucking the lose strands into the padding “they’ll be slappin’ you in the face the whole way otherwise” his hands linger, securing the strap. I take a deep breath, subtly breathing him in. Fuck he smells beautiful. Like leather mixed with smoke hugged by a touch of cologne.

“You’re gonna hold on tight. Arms around my waist. One hand on my stomach, the other firmly over it. If I lean, lean with me, don’t fight it”

I nod, letting him know I’m listening to his careful instructions.

“If you need me to stop for any reason” his tone dipping serious now “Tap my stomach, I’ll feel it” There was something comforting in the way he said it, like no matter how chaotic this felt, I was safe with him. If the panic attack bubbling in my chest boils over, it won’t bother him to pull up”

Jax swings his leg over his bike and lookes back at me, signalling for me to get on. “If you get nervous, tuck your head into my back. If not, look around. Charming looks better at night”

I scoot behind him, my thighs hugging his hips. Chest pressed to his back and all I can think about is the hum of the engine and the vibration between my legs. And not to be that girl but fuck. I’d say it was stronger than my damn vibrator. If I actually gave it a second I could probably cu-

“You good?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Yeah” I reply, wrapping my arms tight around him, adrenaline and something else coiling in my belly. I was very fucking good, and we haven’t even left the lot yet.

The ride to the clubhouse was nothing like I imagined, nothing like I had ever written. I never expected to love it this much. The world around us blurred into streaks of neon and shadows. The wind sliced against my skin as I clung to Jax, arms still locked tight around his waist. Somewhere along the highway, his left hand slipped from the handlebars and dropped to my thigh. He gave it a firm pat, his fingers lingering slightly before he gripped it and gave me a squeeze, obviously a sign of reassurance, but fuck me. It made me melt.

When the bike finally rumbled to a stop outside the clubhouse, I had to blink against the brightness. Music was bleeding out from inside, men and women scattered in clusters, cigars and bottles of beer swinging in their hands. It was a lot to take in. It was just like a scene I had written. Jax cut the engine and nudged my knee. I swing off slowly, my legs unsteady as the vibrations made them numb. His hands hover around me before pulling the helmet from my head. "You're not watchin' from the outside anymore sweetheart" he laughs as if he can sense the nerves. "Come on, you got this"

🐦‍⬛Photos & gifs do not belong to me.

AN: Jesus Christ it’s been fucking ages since I’ve posted an actual fic! Honestly the writers block has been fucking crazy. BUT I’m back, & Im better hehe. Also writing in a 1st person POV is so much easier & I enjoy it wayyyyy more so, heads up this is probably gna be my new style x | also switched up my tiny tiny writing for fics as someone requested as it was too hard to read, SO apologies & from now on the main fics will be big & pretty hehe.

JAX TELLER MASTERLIST

Taglist: @tendertulip

xoxo secretlysamcro