#SoA Imagine

[brunettemarionette]

Hello fabulous!!! I hope your day is going well! Might I request the soa boys with a s/o who gets so absorbed into tasks or projects they tend to forget to eat? Like ADHD hyperfixation

Love you, keep being amazing like you already are!!

Hi! Thank you for your kind words, hope you enjoy! 💜

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬/𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐭

☾‧₊˚ ⋅ ― gender neutral reader. no description of features. no mentions of size, race or age.

🇲​​🇦​​🇮​​🇳​ ​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​ | ​🇸​​🇴​​🇦​ ​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​ | ​🇳​​🇦​​🇻​​🇮​​🇬​​🇦​​🇹​​🇮​​🇴​​🇳

𝗝𝗮𝘅 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Notices immediately when you're in one of your “zones.”

He thinks it’s kind of adorable how passionate you get over something, but he also knows how that turns into you neglecting your basic needs.

Comes into the room, sees you surrounded by notes, coffee cups, maybe paintbrushes or code or whatever your current hyperfixation is.

“Babe... when’s the last time you ate? And don’t say coffee counts.”

Will physically pick you up from your chair if you don’t answer or try to wave him off.

Drags you to the kitchen like, “You don’t have to stop what you’re doing, but you are eating something. Even if it’s just a sandwich while you work.”

He keeps snacks in your workspace now. Protein bars. Trail mix. Shit you can’t spill on a laptop.

If you resist, he’ll playfully guilt trip you: “I can’t have you passing out on me, babe. What kind of old man am I gonna be if you’re not around to remind me how hot I used to be?”

Later, he rubs your back while you keep working, like he's grounding you without interrupting.

𝗢𝗽𝗶𝗲 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Quietly observant and lowkey so worried.

He doesn’t scold. He just sits across from you and watches for a while until you look up.

When you finally do, he gives you a soft, disappointed head tilt. “You forgot to eat again, didn’t you?”

Will disappear and come back with a warm plate of food and a look that says “please don’t make me say it.”

He’s the type to literally feed you if your hands are too busy or covered in whatever your project is.

“Just open your mouth. You can keep working.”

He doesn’t interrupt your flow, just adapts around it—silent presence, comforting weight beside you, occasionally rubbing your knee to remind you he’s there.

Starts setting alarms on your phone. Not in an annoying way—just little subtle reminders like “Ope says eat something :)”

You can tell he’s proud of your passion. He just wants to make sure you’re alive to keep chasing it.

𝗛𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

First time you hyperfocus and skip meals around him, he’s a little thrown off. Like, what do you mean you forgot to eat?

Once he gets it, he gets serious about handling it.

Doesn’t say much. Just drops a plate of food in front of you, sometimes with a grunt. Sometimes with a firm: “Eat. Now.”

Will literally stand there and wait for you to take the first bite.

You try to argue? “Babe, I’m in the middle of—” He cuts you off: “Starving yourself ain’t part of that project.”

Starts packing you high-protein snacks like you’re going to war.

If you skip food for too long, expect a surprise break: he’ll scoop you up, toss you over his shoulder, and march you to the kitchen like you weigh nothing.

Deep down he’s just scared something might happen to you if he’s not paying attention.

Once you eat, he’ll kiss your forehead real quick and mumble, “Good job” and then let you get back to it.

Tries to sit near you after, sharpening his knives or cleaning a gun, just so he’s nearby in case you start spiralling again.

𝗖𝗵𝗶𝗯𝘀 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Amused and lightly exasperated. “Jesus ... yer stomach’s growlin’ louder than the bloody Harley.”

He’s patient about it but also doesn’t let it slide.

Very Scottish dad energy. Comes up behind you, wraps his arms around you, and rests his chin on your head. “C’mon, love. Let’s get somethin’ in ya before ya keel over.”

Makes you tea or coffee with protein cookies or toast to start—something simple to tide you over while you work.

Will take over whatever chore you were supposed to do that day. “You stay in your world, I’ll mind the real one.”

Lightly teases you while making you eat: “Yer brilliant, darlin’, but if ya forget yer meals one more time, I’m gluin’ a sandwich to yer hand.”

Jokes aside, he’s got this tender protectiveness. He makes a game of sneaking in kisses and snacks when you’re deep in the zone.

The kind of man who says “I love watchin’ you like this... just not when it starts hurtin’ you.”

𝗧𝗶𝗴 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Totally fascinated by the hyperfocus thing. Thinks it’s wild that you get that sucked in.

“Babe. BABE. Have you moved in, like, eight hours? Are you alive??”

Tries to distract you with something totally unhelpful: “You want me to bring you a steak? Ice cream? A raccoon?”

But once he realizes it’s serious, he gets uncharacteristically gentle.

Makes you a full plate of food but also climbs into your space like a cat, legs over yours, feeding you between kisses.

“I’m your chaos. I’m your food break chaos. Accept it.”

Will NOT let you live it down: “You’d die for this project. Die. Starving artist vibes. So hot, so deadly.”

He loves how driven you are, but the moment you start skipping sleep or meals, he becomes aggressively nurturing. Like, “you’re MY feral genius and I will keep you alive.”

Will physically drag you into bed to “force rest and calories” if necessary. And yeah... that probably turns into something else.

𝗝𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗲 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Gets it. Totally gets it. Has ADHD tendencies himself, especially when he’s coding or deep in intel.

Joins you in hyperfocus mode... which means sometimes both of you forget to eat and that becomes a problem.

Eventually, he sets up a joint timer system with fun alarms like “Time for noms, sweetface!” or “Re-fuel or perish!”

Makes food breaks into little “missions” for you both. “Operation Grilled Cheese” becomes a recurring event.

When he notices you slipping into hyperfixation too hard, he’ll bring you food but also gently stroke your back or play your favorite music to “pull you back into your body.”

“Hey babe... just one bite? For me?” Hits you with the puppy eyes and pout.

Prepares snack packs that are “easy on the brain” like cut fruit, finger food, protein shakes.

Hovers a bit, anxious but trying not to smother. Will randomly ask, “You still okay? Brain still working? Need a break?”

If you start getting overwhelmed, he’ll wrap a hoodie around your shoulders and sit with you, quietly reassuring you you’re doing great and he’s got you.

[tinyshyteacup]

Taglist: @tuesdayaddamss @mamawiggers1980 @youngadult9016 @samcrosfaith @staley83 @bethexo07 @anonymouse1807 @raven1234321 @vaugarkel @kellynickelsgirl00 @callmesev @vagharsnextsnack @lunajay33 @punkrockcakepops @sweetestrose569 @xoxo-sarah

----------------------------------------------------------

TW: Canon typical violence, interrigation, Happy in his Happy place, cussing, Half-Sack is akward af, tension, throwing food.

Part 10

Sugar Spice & a little bit of Vice - Part 11

The warehouse sat low in the sprawl of some industrial graveyard, a skeleton of steel beams and forgotten brick. Half-collapsed walls leaned inward like weary old men. The rusted door creaked when it opened, groaning like it hadn’t been touched in a decade. Inside, the air was dead—thick with cement dust, motor oil, and that undercurrent of coppery rot that clung to places where men had screamed.

It was past midnight.

Outside, the cold gnawed at the chain-link fences and burned low along the cracked asphalt. But inside—inside it was heavy and still, like the room was holding its breath.

Happy Lowman moved like a shadow in that quiet.

He didn’t speak when he entered. He didn’t make a show of presence or posture. He didn’t need to.

He just was—a solid, unmoving shape dressed in black. Sleeves pushed up, dark gloves hanging from his belt, heavy rings flashing with dull metal when he adjusted the folding chair in front of the other chair.

The man tied to it was shivering now.

He hadn’t been earlier. Earlier, he'd talked tough. Tossed around threats, pretended he didn’t know who Sons of Anarchy were.

But now?

Now that he was stripped to the waist, ankles zip-tied to the steel legs of the chair, blood drying on his temple from the last question—he looked at Happy like a man who knew he was past the point of bargaining.

The room echoed with tiny sounds—the sharp drip of a busted pipe in the far corner, the gentle click of Happy’s blade as he opened it and ran a thumb down the flat.

"Start talking," Happy said finally, voice low.

Like gravel soaked in gasoline.

"You’ve got one more chance. Then I stop listening."

The man wheezed through split lips. “I told you—I don’t know—”

Crack.

Happy’s fist connected with his jaw so fast it barely registered. No wind-up. No warning. Just precision. The sound echoed, dull and wet.

The man choked on his breath.

Happy stood still. Watching. Breathing through his nose. Completely in control.

Happy tilted his head, expression unreadable, eyes flat and cold like river rock.

"Your crew moves weight through SOA turf again…" he started, voice low. Calm. Lethal.

He squatted. Still. Balanced perfectly. Elbows on knees.

"…I find you. I find your ma. I find your dog. You don’t get a second visit."

The man nodded with a trembling jaw, snot running freely. "Y-yeah. Yes. I swear. We’re done. We didn’t know it was SOA turf—"

Happy leaned in, breath steady. "You knew."

He stood. Quietly. Pulled his gloves back on, finger by finger. Then turned his back on the man.

There was a moment of shaking relief in the silence.

Then Happy stopped halfway to the steel table.

This was where he lived. Not in Charming. Not in the Clubhouse. Not even on the open road.

Right here. In between screams. In the stillness before begging started.

Because violence, to Happy Lowman, wasn’t rage.

It was predictable, organized, like breathing or talking apart a engine.

He reached the table beside him and picked up a pair of pliers. Old, stained, slightly rusted. Something forgotten in a mechanic’s drawer, long since re-purposed.

He turned them once in his hand, tested the grip, then walked behind the chair.

The man flinched.

“I—I can pay you. I’ll pay—shit, I’ll pay—”

"You can’t buy respect," Happy muttered, yanking the man’s head back by the hair.

He pressed the pliers to the man’s pinky, just above the first knuckle.

"You can only buy pain."

The warehouse smelled like copper and sweat now.

Happy stood over a ruined man.

He wasn’t dead—but he’d never run another crew. Wouldn’t walk without a limp. Wouldn’t forget what it felt like when his body was no longer his own.

But he talked.

Oh, he talked plenty.

Names. Deals. Schedules. Ports. Even cops in the local PD who’d looked the other way. All of it—spilled across the dirty floor just like the man's teeth.

Happy wiped his blade clean on a torn T-shirt and left the man there—alive, broken, warned. His job wasn’t to kill. Not tonight.

Not unless he had to.

He closed the steel door behind him with a quiet finality. Stepped out into the cold like a ghost escaping a mausoleum.

His breath misted white in the air.

One job done.

One step closer to going home.

NEW MESSAGE — 10:42 PM: Hey uh—don’t mean to bug you, bro, but that guy came back. Navy suit again. Said he wanted to try the raspberry scones. Just stood there smiling at her. I walked her to her car and stayed outside till she locked the door. Thought you should know. I’m keeping an eye out, promise.

Happy didn’t reply.

Instead, he put his phone face down on the motel nightstand, stared at the ceiling, and clenched his jaw hard enough to pop cartilage. He thought about her—his girl, probably humming softly to herself, tidying flour tins with precious fingers that never expected to get bruised.

He thought about what he'd do to that man in the suit if he pushed his luck.

"Lowman," the Oregon VP said, lighting a cigarette, hands twitching with the nerves of someone who’d seen the interrogation footage. “You got a way of... fixing things.”

Happy shrugged. "Guy talked. Crew’s pulling out."

"What about the ear?"

Happy’s stare said don’t ask twice.

The VP swallowed, nodding. “Alright. I’ll pass it along to Oakland. Appreciate it. You heading back to Charming?"

Happy’s fingers curled around his helmet. "Yeah."

He didn’t say more. He didn’t need to.

The Tacoma Killer had no interest in pleasantries.

NEW VOICEMAIL — 3:14 PM: “Hey, man. So… weird thing today. She, uh, she had a bruise on her wrist. Tiny. Barely there. Said she bumped it on a tray. I didn’t want to press but… I don’t think she even noticed she was rubbing at it the whole time she was talking. She’s still smiling. Just... thought you'd wanna know.”

Happy sat in a parking lot off Highway 5. Helmet beside him. Smoke curling from a cigarette pinched between two fingers.

He didn’t blink for a long time.

She bruised easy. He’d noticed that early. Like peaches. Delicate.

He’d made a quiet promise to himself—one only he knew.

No one would ever leave a mark on her.

Not while he was still breathing.

The ride back to Charming was long. But Happy didn’t stop much. He didn't listen to music, didn't speak at gas stations. Just rode. Let the roar of the bike and the wind rip through his thoughts like a storm through dry leaves.

As the pine trees gave way to scrub and low-hung clouds over the familiar stretch of highway into town, something in his chest shifted.

Not softened.

Just... tightened.

The way it always did when he got close to her.

She smiled like someone who believed in the good in people.

She believed in him and God help any man who tried to take that away.

The rumble of the Harley was different when Happy rode it.

Lower somehow, deeper in its chest—like it carried something carved from old bone and blood. The sun was barely cresting the edge of the treeline, casting long shadows through the alley behind Teller-Morrow as the Reaper’s silhouette glided into view. The familiar sound echoed off the tin of the clubhouse roof and died in the warm hush of early evening.

Happy Lowman dismounted in one unhurried motion. No wasted energy, no swagger—just the bone-deep efficiency of a man built for quiet violence.

His boots hit the gravel with purpose. Black jeans dusty from the road, a fresh smear of something dark on his knuckles. Leather kutte hanging heavy over a plain shirt, sweat at the collar.

He didn’t speak right away. He never did. He took in the garage, the lot, the clubhouse doors. Familiarity sank into him like a weight. But it didn’t settle.

“Hey, man,” Half-Sack piped up too fast, jogging awkwardly out of the garage bay, wiping his hands on a rag and trying to seem casual. He stopped a few feet short, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Happy raised an eyebrow.

“You’re back,” Half-Sack added, sheepish.

“Yeah.” One word. Flat.

“Uh—so, just, uh... while you were gone, I kinda kept an eye on the bakery. Like you said. Nothin’ crazy. Just, you know, driving by. Walkin’ her to the car. Stuff like that.”

Happy didn’t answer. Just stared at him.

Half-Sack fidgeted. “The guy. Suit. Real clean. He uh... didnt show up again. She said he was just some fancy guy but... Gave me the creeps. She didn’t seem scared or nothin’, just ... y’know polite.”

Happy’s jaw twitched. “She alright?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I think so.”

Happy nodded, once then finally moved, brushing past the prospect without a word. Half-Sack followed like a dog who knew better than to bark.

The Chapel was thick with smoke, oil, and testosterone. Sunlight angled through the slatted blinds, striping the hardwood table in narrow lines of amber. The room always smelled the same—burnt rubber, stale sweat, leather, and the ghost of blood that never quite washed out of the cracks.

The reaper loomed up from the table, cast in flickering shadows from the overhead ceiling fan that clicked with a mechanical tick-tick-tick like a distant countdown.

Every seat was filled.

Heavy boots silent on concrete. Hands tattooed and loose at his sides. Kutte crisp, but worn in all the right places—Nomad on the rocker across his back.

Happy’s eyes swept the room. Didn’t nod. Didn’t speak. Just pulled out the empty chair like it owed him money and sat down slow, spine straight, forearms planted wide on the table. His jaw was tight, unreadable. But his presence spoke volumes.

Chibs gave a nod. Tig grinned like a dog spotting another dog with sharper teeth. Juice gave him a twitchy smile and quickly looked down. Even Clay leaned back with a grunt of approval.

"Brother,” Clay muttered, tapping his gavel once. “You ready?”

Happy didn’t blink.

“Yeah.”

That was it.

One syllable, gravel rough, enough weight to anchor the whole damn table.

Clay’s voice echoed around the Chapel.

“Vote’s to finalize transfer of Happy Lowman from Nomad charter to Redwood Original. Full patch, with all rights and responsibilities included.”

The words sat thick in the air.

Happy didn’t look around. He didn’t need to.

One by one, the yay's came.

Opie. Bobby. Chibs. Tig. Juice. Piney. Jax.

Clay’s hand came last, heavy and slow.

The gavel cracked.

“Welcome home, brother.”

Happy nodded once. Tight. Clean.

The room relaxed. Tension bled out into back claps and grins. Tig lit a cigarette with a wink. Chibs poured two shots of Jameson and slid one across to Happy, who took it with no expression but tossed it back without hesitation.

“You gonna miss Tacoma?” Juice asked, half-joking, half-nervous.

Happy looked at him. Long pause.

“No.”

Simple. Flat.

But then he added, with a faint curl to the edge of his mouth—a twitch that wouldn’t pass for a smile on anyone else.

“Got somethin’ better down here.”

The sun hung low, casting honey-gold light across Main Street. The bakery’s front window reflected the fading sky—soft lavender bleeding into rust-orange. The bell above the bakery door jingled behind you as you stepped outside, apron folded neatly in your arms, fingers faintly dusted with flour and powdered sugar.

You were tired, flushed from the heat of ovens and the quiet bustle of the day. Still, you smiled when you saw the familiar bike and the man leaning against it—dark jeans, kutte, head slightly bowed as he rolled a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. Happy Lowman.

He’d parked with that casual menace only someone like him could make look like art—one boot crossed over the other, arms folded, chin tilted as you approached.

You gave him a tentative smile. “Hi.”

His gaze flicked to you, then stayed there.

“Hey, girl.” That gravel-warm voice of his—rough as broken glass but settled like a promise in your chest. His mouth twitched at the corner, a flicker of something rare. Gentle. “Missed you.”

You ducked your head, cheeks coloring. “Yea… missed you too Happy.”

Happy pushed off the bike in one smooth motion. He didn’t say anything for a moment. Just looked at you with that unreadable stare of his. Then, with surprising softness, his hand came up to gently tug your apron from your arms.

“You eat yet?”

You shook your head. “Not really.”

“Alright. Get on.” He nodded toward the bike, then paused. “You look tired.”

You blinked up at him. “You… noticed?”

“‘Course I noticed,” he muttered, like it should be obvious. He handed a helmet to you without another word.

The diner smelled like old grease, warm bread, and coffee that had been sitting on the hotplate too long. Neon signs buzzed softly in the windows, casting the linoleum floor in streaks of red and blue. It was the kind of place that didn’t ask questions and didn’t judge—perfect for a man like Happy, who walked in like he belonged anywhere danger might follow.

He sat across from you in the booth, leather kutte creaking as he leaned back and slung one arm along the top of the seat. His eyes had scanned the place the second you stepped inside, out of habit—but now they were on you.

He ordered for both of you, he’d been watching your habits long enough to know what you liked—comfort food, warm things, nothing too spicy. When the waitress brought your plates, he watched you take the first few bites.

You were trying not to stare. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in a couple days, and there was a new nick on his knuckle, but he looked like he always did—serious, intense, safe. Even just watching him eat felt like something private you’d been invited into.

“You always look like you’re thinkin’ too hard,” he murmured.

“I’m not.”

“You are. You got a soft brain thing, girl. People like that get hurt easy.”

You blinked. “What?”

He swallowed. “Soft-brained. That’s what I said.”

You narrowed your eyes slowly, like a cat trying to decide if it had been insulted or petted the wrong way.

“Did you seriously just call me soft-brained?”

“Yeah,” he said with no hesitation, reaching for another fry. “Not an insult. Just facts.”

You leaned forward, incredulous. “Hap”

He barely looked up from his plate. “Girl.”

Your fingers dipped into your fries with mock menace. You picked the longest one, pinched it between two fingers like a dart, and—without warning—threw it across the table.

It hit his cheek and bounced off harmlessly.

There was a long silence.

Then he slowly turned his face back toward you. One eyebrow raised. His hand paused halfway back to his mouth.

You stared, jaw slightly parted.

And then—

He smirked.

A real one. Not just the tight-lipped amused looks you’d seen him give Juice or Chibs. This one curled up at one corner, and his eyes crinkled just slightly.

“I deserved that,” he said finally.

“You did,” you huffed, but your voice was soft again, amused, the tension leaking out of you in a quiet giggle you tried to hide behind your soup spoon.

He picked up one of his fries in return, weighing it thoughtfully like he was considering launching a counterattack. You raised both hands like you were surrendering.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Then don’t throw food at me, softbrain.”

“Happy, you cant call people softbrained, you hear how it sounds !”

"Don't mean what you think, girl." He laughed then—low and quiet but unmistakable.

"Means your too kind."

His shoulders relaxed, his hand resting on the table, thumb rubbing the callused edge of your fry plate. When he leaned forward again, his voice dropped slightly, warmer.

“Y’know, your cute when you mad.”

You blinked. “I am not.”

He just gave you that slow once-over again, grin still faintly there. “You are.”

You were too busy blushing to throw another fry.

[chloe-skywalker]

Visit Or Stay - Jax Teller / Chibs Telford

Jax x Fem!Reader

Chibs x Niece!Reader

Warnings: SOA

Word count: 1,060

Summary: Chibs niece comes to visit, but also maybe plant some root’s. Jax seems to be falling for her but if she’s gonna leave what’s the point?

Authors Note: This was either the 1rst or 3rd SOA story I ever wrote. I like my concept for this one.

Masterlist

Sons Of Anarchy Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“What ya doin here, Lass?” Chibs got up upon seeing her his niece enter the TM lot once he got in range he pulled her into a hug.

“Just visiting my favorite uncle.” Y/n smiled hugging him back.

“I’m your only uncle.” He teased pulling her back.

“Touche, but still my favorite.” She smiled at him mischievously.

“Ye my favorite niece.” Chibs smiled back.

“Well that’s a relief. I’m your only niece so if I wasn’t your favorite we’d have a problem.” Y/n playfully squinted at him.

“How long you here for Lass?” Chibs asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders leading her over to the picnic tables.

“Well, actually.” Y/n trailed off as they both sat down. “I was thinking about planting some root’s. And where better than near my dearest uncle.”

Chibs raised a brow in question. “You really wanna move and stay in Charming?”

Y/n shrugged her shoulders. “I miss you and my family. The MC has always been my family.”

“I would love to have you around more often and closer.” Chibs tell’s her his opinion on the matter.

“I’m here to stay.” Y/n smiled at him, she smiled being around her uncle, they use to be so close when she was younger.

“I’m glad.” Chibs would love to have her around, it had been to long without his niece around.

“Y/n?” Jax said her name in shock, not believing his eyes as he walked out of the club house.

“Jaxie.” Y/n greeted the blonde comforting she truly is there before him.

“It’s good to see you Darlin.” Jax smiled his signature Jax smile and pulled her into a tight welcoming hug. When they were younger they spent all their time together, plus Ope. So he had really missed having her around.

“Its good to see you too.” Y/n hugged him back, having very much missed him as well.

“How long are you here for?” he asked pulling away, she’d visit but never for very long so Jax wanted to know how long he had before she left again.

Y/n glanced at her Uncle Chibs before telling the blonde. “A while.”

^     ^     ^   A Week Later  ^     ^     ^

It had been a week, a week of Y/n house/apartment hunting with Chib’s help. And any free time from doing that Y/n had been spending it with Jax. He was happy to have her back, and he didn’t want to waste a second.

Jax was currently watching Y/n from afar. He was so glad to have her back, but he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For her to announce she was leaving.

“Starin at her isn’t gonna get ya anywhere, Jackie Boy.” Chibs spoke up from Jax’s side having had enough of Jax watching Y/n from afar.

“Chibs-”

“Jackie, listen. I’ve seen how close you two have become since she’s been back. If your holding back because of me, ye have my blessin.” Chibs put his hand up to stop the blonde from talking and for him to just listen.

“Its not just that. But thanks.” Jax told him, patting Chibs on the back in thanks for his blessing to date his niece.

“What's wrong?” Chibs furrowed his brows in confusion. What could Jax possibly have going on in his head if it wasn’t needing permission to make Y/n his.

“She’s a free spirit. She never stay’s anywhere to long. Y/n/n will leave soon and then where would that leave me?” Jax shrugged and sighed as he looked down rubbing his hands over his face.

“Oh Jackie boy.” Chibs laughed, shaking his head amused.

“”What?” He didn’t understand why the scot was laughing.

“She’s planted roots. Been house huntin when she’s not here or with you.” Chibs told him placing a hand on his shoulder.

“She’s moving to Charming?” Jax quirked a brow, trying to contain his excitement.

“Said so herself.” He nodded in confirmation. “You have a chance. Take it. But if you hurt her I swear boy.” Chibs growled, he loved Jax but if he hurt Y/n Chibs would definitely hurt him.

“I’d let you beat my ass if I did.” Jax knew though it wouldn’t just be Chibs who’d kick his ass. The whole club would. Jax may be prince but as far as most were concerned y/n was the princess.

Later that night Jax found Y/n up on the roof of the clubhouse.

“What’re you doin up here Darlin?” Jax asked with a lazy smirk as he climbed the ladder to the roof of the clubhouse.

“To loud and crowded inside. Why are you up here teller? Isn’t every single one of those croweaters trying to get in your pants?” Y/n shrugged one shoulder smiling as she teased him. Y/n was never one for club parties. Or the party favours.

“Only one girl I’m interested in, and she’s not a croweater or inside.” Jax stated as he walked over and sat down next to her.

“Oh, and where is she?” Y/n raised a brow looking at him amusedly.

“Up on this roof. I’m looking right at her.” He told her honestly, he was nervous which was a new feeling for him.

“Jax.” Y/n narrowed her eye’s and tilted her head not understanding what he was truly saying and she didn’t want to assume anything.

“I’ve fallen for you Y/n. Chibs told me you’re planning on staying in Charming. What do you say to givin us a shot?” Jax smiled the best he could through his nerves. He turned in his seat and reached up to cup her face and neck in his hands.

“What about-”

“Chibs gave me his blessing. Its up to you.” Jax stated hoping that information helped her make up her mind. Make her decision. He hoped she would give them a chance considering how long he has harbored a crush on her.

“I’m in Jax. Let’s give this a go.” Y/n smiled brightly at him before she pulled him into a kiss. Which sealed their new found relationship. Y/n has had a crush on the Blonde Teller in front of her since she was a little girl, so she was definitely willing to give a relationship a go and hope for the best outcome.

Taglist:

@padawancat97 @maryvibess

[moonypeaches77559]

------------------------------------------------------------

Imagine Jax reassuring you he will come home after he has finished with risky club business

"I-i just don't feel good about this Jax......." You're currently sitting on the toilet lid in one of Jax's shirts and a pair of shorts.

"Y/N......." With a towel around his waist, still dripping with water from the shower, he moves down to your level and holds your hand with his free one. His expression turns more stern but still gentle as he meets your gaze.

"Everything will be alright........" He rubs soft circles with his thumb on your hand.

"I will come home to you. Nothing will stop me from coming back to you and Abel. You understand me? Nothing will stop me from coming back to my family"

He cups your cheek gently, looking you over. He still sees the doubt and worry in your eyes but it has eased.

"Be as careful as you can be okay?" You mirror him, cupping his cheek gently. He can't help the signature smirk that comes across his face.

"Always am Darlin'"

------------------------------------------------------------

Author Note: First posted this on wattpad but wanted to start this up on Tumblr too. Hope you enjoy and requests are open ❤️❤️❤️

Gif Credit: moonlightpurple on Pinterest

[etclouie]

“huh, you like that darlin’?”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — summary; fucking your boyfriend when another member of samcro walks in, but you both find something out about you in that moment (Jax Teller x fem!reader)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — warnings; smut with little plot, minors do not interact!!!, poorly written smut, unprotected sex, soft sex, p in v, creampie, established relationship, chibs walks in on them(he does knock they just don’t hear it), readers described as drunk the night before(is this a warning??), jax teases reader about chibs walking in, lmk if i missed any !

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — word count; 939

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — a/n; yeah, uhm anyways (thinking of early seasons jax)

soa masterlist | main masterlist like jax? join my taglist !

you’d spent the night at the clubhouse with Jax, having drunk a little too much for Jax to have taken you home on his bike. 

you’d woken up alone in his bed and hearing the shower in the next room. eyeing him when he walked back into the room, and his towel wrapped lowly on his hips. 

knowing the look you were giving him had a chuckle spilling from his lips, leading to now. 

he had you sprawled out on your back, arms bracing himself on the pillows around your head, hips rocking against yours at a steady pace.

his voice soft and small, gentle coos leaving his lips. mumbled ‘i knows’ into your ear, while your legs wrapped around his waist and feet locked at the small of his back. arms loosely wrapped around his neck, and fingers tangled in his hair. 

this was more intimate than sex ever normally was between you, it was softer and a lot more gentle. 

tilting your head to capture his lips in a kiss and humming as he deepened it, his tongue pushing past your lips and meddling with yours. 

each thrust of his hips had more moans falling from your lips, breaking the kiss and laying back against the one lone pillow on the bed. your eyes flicking across his face and admiring him, reaching a hand up to cradle his jaw while your thumb soothed across his cheek. 

giggling softly as he tilted his head to press a kiss to your palm before leaning down to capture your lips again, both of you lost in the moment and missing the knock at the door. 

Jax’s thrusts continued at a steady past, coaxing soft moans from your lips. dropping his head to the crook of your neck again and peppering kisses across the skin, back arching up into him. 

with no response from Jax the door opened cautiously, and a familiar Scottish accent sounded in surprise and slight disgust. 

“jesus christ Jackie”

feeling your face heat at the sudden intrusion and hiding your face in your hands, feeling Jax pull away from your neck and glance back at Chibs. 

glancing up cautiously at Jax as he pulled the blankets up to cover your body, remaining inside you as he spoke, his tone laced in faint irritation and your walls fluttering around him causing a muffled groan to bubble in his throat. 

“this is on you brother”

his eyes locked with Chibs’ before nodding towards the door in a silent ask to leave, hearing the Scotsman chuckle before leaving; the door slamming behind him while Jax’s attention turned back to you. 

“sorry bout that, darlin’”

his hands pulling yours further away from your face, and loosely wrapping your arms around his neck once more. feeling the pillows dip on either side of your head while he braced himself again, the slow drag of his hips starting again. 

“felt you clench down on me, hm sweetheart?”

despite the softness of the moment, even if momentarily disrupted, Jax’s tone held a little teasing to it once again. thrusts continuing and low mewls falling from your lips, eyes hooded and keeping hold of his gaze. 

“huh, you like that darlin’? you like the thrill of getting caught like this?”

words escaping you, and a lewd moan coming out in response. eyes fluttering shut as he leaned down to capture your lips again, his blond locks toppling into your face. 

the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room again as he chased both of your climaxes, forehead resting against yours and arms crossing above your head. 

his body blanketing yours and moving impossibly closer to you, peaking up at him to find his gaze already on you. 

“you gonna cum f’me sweetheart? or you want Chibs back in here?”

choking back a whine at his proposition, walls fluttering around him again as the words reeled in your head. 

mind feeling fuzzy and body flooding with heat, the familiar pool of warmth settling in the pit of your belly as his thumb pressed to your clit. 

“fuck, that turn you on? shit- cum f’me sweetheart, that’s it”

the words came out in a groan, his head dropping to your shoulder and his thrusts faltering. lips pressing soft kisses across your sweat dampened skin, and his soft coos flooded your ear. thumb pressing tighter circles to your clit and pushing you over the edge, the coil in your belly snapping as you came with a cry of his name. 

arms tightening around his neck and pulling him down impossibly closer, moaning into his ear while your cheeks pressed together. moans turning into whines, and whines turning into incoherent babbles as his thrusts continued; once met with precision now left sloppy as he chased his high. 

“fuck, that’s my girl. such a good girl f’me darlin’”

the possessive tone in his words had another lewd moan tumbling past your lips, nails scratching across his back and into the sons tattoo. 

a barely coherent cry of his name was his undoing, hips stuttering before stilling completely against you. a jagged rock of his hips and a guttural moan past his lips signified his climax, his cock throbbing in your warmth and his release shooting into you. 

the constant flutter of your walls around him had him spilling every drop, the tightness surrounding him milking him for all he had. 

staying connected and limbs intertwined, his breathing heavy against your shoulder as he slowly started to come down from his high. lifting his head enough to meet your gaze before grumbling out to you. 

“my little exhibitionist, hm?“

requests are open here !

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

please please please something w jealous / possessive jax

answering as a blurb because I think we all need this on a saturday night in november. smut warning obvs

“Do I not give you enough attention, pretty girl?”

All you can do is whine in response, eyes rolling back in your head as his hips slam into yours.

He had you bent over the kitchen counter the minute the two of you got home, wasting no time ripping your panties down your legs and folding you in half the way he wanted.

“Is that why you kept looking at Chibs? Hmm? You think he can give you something that I can’t?”

You try to shake your head, but a particularly sharp thrust sends you careening forwards. You’re convinced you’d fly over the countertop if it wasn’t for Jax’s bruising grip on your hips.

“You’re mine,” he grits out, mouthing at the spot underneath your ear. “Mine, you hear me?”

Your knees buckle as you grapple for leverage, your boyfriend’s hips the only thing keeping you upright. Your breath is coming out in short, sharp pants, lungs burning as you try to process the intensity of the moment.

“Say it.”

“J-Jax, baby- fuck- huh?”

“Tell me you’re mine. Say it. Now.”

Jax wraps a huge hand around your throat, plastering your back to his front as he hits a spot inside of you that makes you weak.

“I’m yours,” you manage to breathe out. “All yours, Jax.”

“Gonna make sure you don’t forget it. Make sure everyone else knows it too. You’re not gonna be able to walk for a week, darlin’. And you’re gonna wear these bruises all pretty, yeah? Just in case there was any fuckin’ doubt about who you belong to.”

You see stars when you come, legs shaking and sweat dripping down your back. Jax sinks his teeth into your shoulder when he finds his release, marking you up for good measure.

“How the fuck am I supposed to cover up a bite mark, Jax?”

“You’re not,” he murmurs, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “That’s the point.”

[fanficimagery]

The Nanny

When babysitting your neighbor's kid, trouble seems to find you.

Author's Note: SOA AU - No Tara, Clay, or Gemma. Trigger warning for violence! This was supposed to be up for Valentine's Day, but as you can see... that wasn't the case lmao.

Charming, California is one of those picture perfect little towns where everyone tries to be prim and proper, and act like their shit doesn't stink. And in the short time that you've lived here, you quickly realized that the law-abiding citizens hated the fact that Charming was home to a MC, the Sons of Anarchy.

It doesn't bother you to see them riding down the streets as you're out and about, but you do find it hilarious that a majority of the locals either gasp in outrage upon seeing the bikers or avoid them at all costs. You find the bikers very easy-going, but then again the club president is your neighbor.

Jax Teller had taken it upon himself to introduce himself when you were moving in, carrying boxes for you and flashing a rather charming smile as he pumped you for information about yourself. You knew what he was doing, and it was rather laughable, but you had nothing to hide and were a rather boring person, so you gave the information freely. Between the two of you, he was more interesting as a MC president whereas you stayed home and lived off the money your brothers made. Jax seemed interested in what your brothers did for a living that they were able to provide you with the life you have, but you explained they made their money because of the family business that provided private security for celebrities and individuals with a high profile. You helped them with scheduling, but they still did a majority of the work.

Finding out Jax has a son (Abel) makes your heart warm towards the biker, and then warm up to the club when his brothers visit every now and then. Juice was really just a goofball when he wasn't doing business for the club, Chibs was a secret sweetheart, Tig was a little crazy, Happy was hard to read, but it was Opie who was the most normal of the bunch.

You settle into your home quite nicely, working from your little office when your brothers need help to prevent any scheduling conflicts. Then in your downtime, you either have a book in hand or waste time on your gaming system. Jax and his brothers have been over a couple of times, drinking a beer to wind down or eating whatever leftovers you happen to have after you've already eaten.

This morning, however, you've just finished making breakfast when there's a knock at your front door. With a strip of bacon in hand, you answer the door and are surprised to see Jax and his son Abel standing there.

"What's up, Teller?"

He immediately smiles and your eyes narrow. "I hate to do this on such short notice, but my nanny canceled. Do you think you could watch Abel for the day?"

You glance down at the blonde boy, shrugging. "Is he cool staying with me?"

Jax glances down and nudges his son, but Abel merely asks, "Do you have more bacon?"

You open the door wider as you chuckle. "Sure, kid. You want some eggs and hashbrowns too?"

"Yum."

Abel walks into your house without a care in the world and you meet Jax's amused gaze. "So are there any rules I should abide by? Are you one of those dad's that limits screen time or bans sugar?"

"Nope and nope. No allergies either."

"Cool."

"Thank you. I owe you."

As Jax starts to walk down your porch steps, you say, "I'm a slut for food, Teller. Bribe me with food and I'll say yes to anything."

"Anything?" He peers over his shoulder and arches an eyebrow. You scowl at him.

"Almost anything."

Jax laughs. "Don't cook tonight then. I'll bring some cheeseburgers and fries from this diner that makes pretty good food."

"Alright."

. .

. .

When Jax returns later that night, Chibs and Happy follow after learning he was picking up food from the diner. What surprised them, however, was that while Jax parked in his driveway, he started taking the food to his neighbors house. But Chibs, nor Happy, said a word and followed their president with their own food when he didn't protest.

Jax is poised to knock on the door when he hears, "Don't you- don't you dare do it, kid. If you do it, I will personally wait until you turn seventeen to kick your little ass." The words give Jax pause because what the actual fuck! But then Abel's giggling makes him grin.

"Did she just threaten to kick Abel's ass, Jackie?" Chibs wonders, smirking.

"I think so."

"No, no, no! You blue-shelled me?! You're like two. How do you even know how to play this?!" Jax snorts and finally knocks. The trash talking suddenly ceases before… "It's open! If you're friendly, welcome! If not, I got a little ankle biter in here and I'm not afraid to sic him on you!"

Jax laughs some more and enters the house, walking to where he hears all the commotion. Walking into the living room, he can't help but smile at the sight of YN and Abel sitting side by side on the couch, attention focused on the TV where they're apparently playing Mario Kart.

"You bring the goods, Teller?"

"Burgers and fries as promised."

"You are currently my favorite Teller." Still your attention is on the TV, your trash talking his kid being kept very polite all of a sudden. Jax, Chibs, and Happy have no idea what's going on, but suddenly one of the characters is spinning out because of a banana peel and then Abel's giving a long, suffering sigh as the other character passes the finish line. "Yes!" You jump up, pointing down at Abel. "Sucks to suck, kid. Now come on. Your pop's got the goods."

When you finally look up at Jax, you momentarily freeze when you see Chibs and Happy there as well. "Oh. Hey, guys. Kitchen's this way."

Everyone follows you into the kitchen and you immediately grab drinks from the fridge. When you turn around, Jax is divvying up some food for himself, Abel, and you. You pass out the beers to the men and you have cans of Sprite for yourself and Abel. Then as you take the last remaining available seat since Jax kept Abel on his lap, you thank Jax for the food before digging in.

"So did you have fun today?" Jax asks his son.

"Yeah. I got to color and watch TV and play games."

Jax glances at you and you shrug. "I made do. I would have gone to the store to pick up some stuff for him, but I didn't know if you'd feel comfortable with me taking him anywhere."

"I appreciate that."

"So what about you? Is your nanny good or will you need another favor?"

"Uh, she actually might be out for a few more days."

You nod. "I can do it. Is it cool if I take him to the store with me tomorrow morning? I forgot how much little kids snack throughout the day."

"Yeah. I have an extra car seat you can use and I'll leave you some cash."

"Nah. Don't even worry about it. I'll be snacking with him, so I can front the bill."

But still, cash ends up thrown onto the table from both Chibs and Jax. You have a feeling it'd be useless to argue, so you say nothing.

After dinner, Jax helps you clean up before they all take their leave. He tells Abel to tell you goodbye and your heart absolutely melts when you crouch down, and Abel hugs you.

You visibly melt as you hug the little boy back and then pull back to tweak his nose. "Okay, you're officially my favorite Teller again."

Abel smiles at you as Jax laughs and then you bid everyone goodbye at the door.

Abel ends up preferring your company to that of his nanny, so Jax ends up splitting his son's time between the nanny at his house and you at your own house when you have nothing going on.

On this particular day, after a lunch of sandwich and chips, you and Abel are lounging in a kiddie pool right in the middle of your front yard. You even went as far to put up a canopy to have the pool half in the shade and half in the sun, and are soaking in a sports bra and a pair of black tights that look like shorts.

You're sitting in the shade, sipping on a juice box as Abel stands on the other side playing with water blasters. You hear the rumble of a motorcycle, unsurprised to have Jax checking in.

As the blonde walks up, you smile innocently as he laughs. "Where did the pool come from?"

"The store." You shrug. Abel takes the moment to load up his blaster with lukewarm water and shoots his dad with it. Jax doesn't bother dodging the stream. "We saw a commercial for the waterpark and since we can't go there, I brought the water to us."

Wiping water from his face and using it to slick his hair back, Jax crouches next to the pool and asks, "How much do I owe you?"

"Not a cent, Teller." You sip on your juice, grinning. "I haven't been in one of these since I was a kid. This is for me as much as it's for Abel. He just gave me the excuse of getting one and chilling in it without looking like an idiot."

"Well I don't know about that…"

He trails off and you gasp in mock outrage. As he laughs, you say, "You're lucky I respect the kutte and the fact that you have a phone in your pocket somewhere. If I didn't, I'd drag your butt in here with us."

"Next time." Jax splashes his son and then stands before Abel can shoot him point blank with water. "Am I grabbing dinner tonight?"

"Nah. Abel already made a request. He wants chicken tenders and fries."

"And what the little man wants, he gets?"

"Obviously." You roll your eyes playfully. "Plus, it's an easy meal and I enjoy it too."

"Alright." He chuckles as he starts making his way back towards his motorcycle. "Don't stay in the pool too long."

"Yes, sir." You mockingly salute him, lips twitching when you see him momentarily tense before relaxing once more. "See you later."

. .

. .

It's past Abel's bedtime by the time Jax makes it home, and already he's prepared for his kid to either be bouncing off the walls or very cranky. But as he nears YN's house, he notices that it's mostly dark. All the lights are off with the exception of the porch light and a couple of lamps he can see through the windows that peer into the living room. And the TV, of course.

Instead of knocking, he lets himself right in. It's almost too quiet, but he can hear the TV playing rather low in the living room. Heading there, he walks up to the sofa and can't help but smile at the sight that greets him. YN is laid out across the sofa with Abel on her chest, his back to her front. Both are knocked out cold.

Without second guessing himself, Jax pulls out his phone and snaps a quick photo. Chuckling to himself, he then walks around the sofa as he pockets his phone and crouches down. "Hey. YN," he gently calls out while shaking her shoulder.

It takes a few shakes before you wake, sleepily humming until Jax's voice coaxes you until you're fully awake. Your arms wrap around Abel on instinct and when you notice Jax's smirking presence, you relax. "What time is it?" You mumble.

"A little after ten."

"Really? Fuck. I guess the sun really did kick my ass if I'm this sleepy."

"Yeah." Jax chuckles and then carefully starts to gather Abel in his arms. "Sorry about showing up so late."

"Don't even worry about it." You sit up, rubbing your eyes and yawning. "You know I adore your kid." As you follow Jax to the door, you remind him about going away for a week and not being able to watch Abel, but that you'll have your phone on if Abel wants to talk.

Jax laughs. "I swear, my kid loves you more than me sometimes."

"It's only because I'm a better cook," you muse.

Jax opens his mouth to argue, but ends up shutting it and shrugging. "You're not wrong there."

As Jax then exits your home, you bid him goodnight and watch until he disappears into his home.

When you explained to Jax that your brothers made their money because of the family business that provided private security for celebrities and individuals with a high profile, you weren't lying. Nor did you lie when you also explained you helped them with scheduling for said high profile individuals.

What you chose to leave out, however, was that your family had such a great record with security because no one wanted to fuck with a family who had connections to two different cartels through your dearly departed parents.

However, before you settled into the calm life of personal security, your brothers made a name for yourselves as ruthless hitmen amongst the cartels and you… you were a little unhinged when you were caught up in the moment as one of their torturers. You worked for the cartels when they needed you to, but when you and your brothers wanted to distance yourselves, it was the cartels who helped set up your security business.

The week spent with your brothers is just to visit and catch up with those who all three of you came to see as uncles. It was most definitely not supposed to end up with you being caught off guard by a fist to the face. Someone who didn't know all what you were capable of took advantage of the fact that you were a woman who was close to big names within the cartels. They thought you to be easily taken down and used as leverage, but what they didn't count on was you hiding daggers on your persons. The fight was dirty and bloody, and by the end of it you were spitting mad.

You have the urge to carve into someone that your brothers are trying to quell for once when your phone rings. You pull out your phone mid-pacing, and then freeze upon seeing Jax's name on the screen. But it's not a normal call- it's a video call.

"Fuck."

"What?" Your elder brother asks. "Who is it?"

"It's my neighbor. Most likely his kid Abel since I babysit him most of the time." Your brothers glance at each other and you roll your eyes. "I've told you about them. Now toss me my hoodie. I can't let them see my face like this."

Before the call ends, you answer it but make sure to angle the camera away from the bruised side of your face. "Hey, Jax, give me one sec," you say. Your brother tosses you a hoodie and you quickly pull it on after setting your phone down. Then you take a seat at the kitchen table, turning off a few lights so it's a little darker and you can hide within your hood. Picking up your phone and keeping only half your face on camera, you smile. "Hey, guys, miss me?"

Jax's smile falters, but Abel immediately starts talking, telling you all about his day with his dad. He tells you he misses your food and play time, and you assure him you'll be home soon. You tell him about hanging out with your own family and even make your brothers wave at the camera when you switch it on them. Abel's little voice telling them hi makes you smile and then Jax is telling Abel to go watch some TV before bed.

Left alone with Jax on the phone, his smile vanishes. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?" You refuse to meet either of your brothers' gazes as you can feel them staring at you. "Everything's fine."

"Bullshit." Your brothers snort and you huff. Very reluctantly, you pull your hood down and maneuver the camera so it catches your full face. Jax's expression hardens. "Fuck."

"Don't worry. It looks worse than it is."

"What the fuck happened?"

You shrug and quickly glance at your brothers, but they're back to doing their own thing. "Went out drinking with the family and got caught in a brawl. It's been handled."

"So I don't have to gather the boys and kick some ass?"

His words make you huff a laugh. "Nah. I'm pretty sure I put the guy in a hospital."

"You took down a dude?! Now that's hot. I wish I could have seen that."

Uncaring that they're eavesdropping, your brothers burst out laughing and you sigh. You can't help but smile and you end up rolling your eyes when Jax laughs too. "Whatever. How's Abel really doing? Is he driving his official nanny insane yet?"

"Not really. He's just moping around."

"Aww." You coo. "Well I should be home soon. I'll take him to the park or something."

Jax's teasing smile turns genuine. "You know, I've never told you this, but I appreciate everything you do for Abel. You don't have to do anything, but you still treat him like family."

"What can I say? I like kids." You shrug. "And my idiot brothers will never give me any nieces or nephews."

"Hey!" Both your brothers protest.

You grin at them before looking back at Jax on your phone. "I should get going though. We have a meeting with the uncles here in a bit and I need to get ready."

"Alright. No more fights unless I'm there to avenge you. I can't have my favorite girl looking like she's in an abusive relationship."

Snorting, you say, "No promises. Tell Abel goodnight for me and to come up with a plan for what he wants to do when I get back home."

"Will do. See you soon."

As soon as you hang up, your brothers start making teasing kissing noises. "Oh shut the fuck up."

Valentine's Day has never been a day that you really cared for. Sure it was sweet to see teenagers and kids swap gifts and/or cards, or to buy candy half off, but it didn't bother you to have a significant other on this day. But you do remember how good it felt to get a gift as a kid, so you want to make sure Abel has a good day.

With your time spent with Abel, you've come to know that he loves certain fruits and chocolate. So after heading to the store for a quick shopping trip, you return home with strawberries, bananas, and melting chocolate. Then after cleaning the strawberries and chopping up some bananas, you dip them all in the ooey-gooey chocolate before letting them harden while fixing up a white dessert box with edges that say Happy Valentine's Day.

You've just filled the box with chocolate covered fruit when your phone rings and you can't help but smile at the name. You're no stranger to how handsome Jax is, but you know better than to go there with him.

"Hey, Teller, to what do I owe the pleasure of your hot voice?" You immediately answer.

Jax's laughter meets your ear before, "While it's nice to hear you like my voice, I'm actually calling on behalf of Abel."

"Aw. What does my favorite Teller need?"

"You know I'm your favorite Teller, YN." You hum, not denying his words. "But Abel is requesting your appearance here at the shop because he has a very important question to ask you."

"A very important question?" You muse. "What does Abel have to…" You trail off, the amusement in Jax's voice suddenly making something make sense. "His question doesn't happen to coincide with what today is, does it?"

Jax chuckles. "I am not ruining the surprise."

"I swear to God, Jax, if I end up crying I'm going to kick your ass."

"I look forward to it. Now get pretty and get your ass over here. Do not break my kid's heart."

"Never. And I'm always pretty, Teller."

"...yeah. You are." Your eyes widen at his words, but you don't say anything. Jax then clears his throat. "I'll see you soon."

"Y-Yeah. I'll be there in ten."

You can feel yourself blushing as you hang up, but quickly put it out of your mind as you hurry to your room to get dressed. You pull on a black sundress that's covered in sunflowers, the flowy skirt hitting right above your knees. You step into some black wedge sandals and quickly tie your hair up in a messy ponytail. You apply the basic amount of makeup and spritz some perfume around your body.

Heading downstairs, you throw all your necessities into a purse and then grab Abel's box of chocolate covered fruit before heading out.

The drive to Teller Automotive isn't a very long one, and you're soon parking in the lot. You leave your purse in the car, but you keep your box of fruits in hand. You get several wolf whistles as you cross the parking lot, but you merely laugh off Tig and Chibs' teasing.

Before you can enter the auto garage, Jax walks out, a smirk in place. And then before you can ask him what he's smirking for, your gaze is drawn downward to Abel who walks out behind him… and oh. You fuckin' melt.

Abel's hair is slicked into a faux hawk, a red bow tie is clipped to the very crisp white button shirt that's tucked into a pair of tiny faded jeans. In his hands he's holding a teddy bear that's adorned with a miniature Sons of Anarchy kutte, and a red carnation. The adorableness of it all makes you melt and tear up at how cute he is.

"Oh my goodness. You look so handsome," you tell him.

As you crouch so you're more at his level, you make sure the skirt of your dress still covers everything. Abel blushes as he asks, "Will you be my Valentine?"

"Hell yes I will." Abel smiles as he hands over your gifts, and Jax and the others- who were apparently listening in- whoop in celebration. "And as my Valentine, it's only fair that I give a gift as well. Strawberries and bananas covered in chocolate. Your favorite," you tell him.

Abel is so ecstatic over his gift that he nearly knocks you over as he hugs you. When Chibs ask him what he's got, he's more than happy to run off and show his uncles what you've given him. Jax offers you a hand up and as soon as you're steady on your feet, you notice him looking at you in a certain way.

"What?" You huff a laugh, carefully wiping away your tears that never fully fell.

"You are amazing, you know that?"

"Hardly. Tiny Teller is just adorable as hell." You can feel yourself starting to blush so you glance down at the teddy in your hand. "Where did you find a tiny kutte anyway?"

"It's actually Abel's. The guys had it made for him when he was born and he wanted your teddy to have it."

"I'll take extra care of it then." When you glance back at Jax, you ask, "So does Abel have to stay or can I take my valentine out on a date?" You have no idea what Jax had been thinking, but it's like your words make him snap. From one second to next, he goes from staring at you in awe to gently grasping your face and pulling you into a kiss. You gasp but quickly return the sentiment. And when Jax pulls back, still cupping your face in his hands, you ask, "So me wanting to take your kid out on a date really did it for you, huh?"

Jax barks out a laugh and you smile as he leans in for another quick kiss. "Been wanting to do that for a while actually."

"And you waited until this moment to do it," you muse. "Jokes on you though. You gotta stick around and listen to your boys tease you about this while I take Abel out all on my lonesome." You kiss him for a third time and then step out of his reach to holler, "Little Teller, let's go! It's you and me, buddy. Whatever you wanna do."

As Abel approaches with a lot less fruit, he asks, "Can we eat pizza in the park?"

"We sure can. Now say goodbye to your dad so we can go stuff our faces."

Dating Jax Teller is rather thrilling. You do not care to know what goes on in the club unless it pertains to any woman trying to sleep with him, or when Jax needs someone to vent to. Then, and only then, do you let your opinion be known about what goes on with the MC.

But while you have nothing against the MC, you still prefer to spend a majority of your time with Abel. Sure you'll show up to some parties so all the other women know Jax is off limits, but you're content to do activities with little Teller wherever he wants to be for the day.

You thought it was cute Jax tried to shield you from the violence the club was capable of, but never pressed him for information when you noticed he looked stressed about something. This time, however, you wish you had pressed him for information when he asked you to stay in with Abel.

It's nighttime, and you and Abel are relaxing in front of your TV as you watch some new Pixar film about dragons and their riders. The two of you are dozing off when your front door is kicked in, which then makes you jump into action. But you're not just defending yourself, you have a little boy to think about. So before you can find a proper weapon, you're left standing in front of Abel who is now clinging to your leg as he whimpers in fear.

"Jax Teller chose a pretty one this time."

"Fuck off."

The men all chuckle in front of you. "Take her."

. .

. .

The Sons of Anarchy roll up to a subdivision that's still in development, cautiously dismounting their motorcycles and arming themselves. A new MC had established themselves in a neighboring town, looking to make a name for themselves, and they thought knocking down the Sons a peg or ten was what they ought to do to establish their foothold in the MC world for good.

The encroaching MC took to ambushing the Sons whenever and wherever, and the people of Charming were starting to become afraid of strolling their pristine streets. Even the Sheriff was looking to the Sons to end the conflict, but they could only do so much. Unfortunately, one of the fights involved a chase on motorcycles as the Sons were making a run, and the son of the enemy President took a bullet to the right side of his chest and fell. His injuries then resulted in a coma which set off to this little meeting.

As they creep through the eerily quiet streets of the deserted subdivision, Opie flanks Jax. "I don't like this, brother. Something feels off."

"I agree," Chibs says. "We should have put the club on lockdown before ridin' out."

Jax sighs. "Too late now."

Juice, Happy, and Tig jog up to homes still under construction, trying the doors or looking for any signs that someone's been there. It isn't until they get to the end of the block that they notice one home has been vandalized and they know that's where they're supposed to go.

Every Son cautiously enters the house, nose wrinkling as the state of the house. But in the middle of the living room, there's an odd clearing around a small round table. And on that table sits a folded notecard.

The Sons seem to freeze, but then Jax is marching towards the note. Snatching it up, the words written make him tense as his world starts to tilt. "Fuck. They're going after Abel."

As the note flutters to the floor, the Sons all race after their President as he flees the house.

The note read, [A son for a son.]

On the way to YN's, Jax instructs half the Sons to break off and check on the club, while also making calls to get everyone on an official lockdown. Jax, Opie, Chibs, and Happy race to his neighbor's house.

When they pull up, a few neighbors are peering out their doors looking a bit distraught. Immediately, they know something terrible has happened, and that feeling is only intensified when they spot the broken down door.

Rushing to park in YN's front yard, guns are pulled from the back waistband of their jeans. Jax takes point as he enters the house and his heart drops to his stomach. The house is an absolute mess, furniture and glass broken.

The TV is still playing some cartoon movie and when he walks further in, he curses at the sight of a body laying in a pool of blood.

Happy peers over his shoulder. "Now we know she can hold her own."

"Find them. Now."

. .

. .

Sitting in the bathtub, Abel clings to you as his face hides against the side of your neck. Your face hurts from the numerous punches you took, your lip is split, your arms have multiple lacerations, and there's blood dripping into your eyes. But your worst wound is definitely the bullet wound to the left of your abdomen, and you're grateful that Abel's weight is putting pressure on the towel you had pressed against the wound.

It's been quiet for what seems like forever, but suddenly you hear movement. Shakily raising the gun you'd taken from one of the intruders, you take aim and dare the next motherfucker who enters to be someone intending harm on you or the boy in your lap.

The door gently swings open, but no one is there. Your arm hurts from holding the gun up and then you see someone try to peer around the door jamb. You can only partially see his face, but the voice- you recognize the voice even if you rarely hear it when you're at the club.

"Baby girl?"

"...Hap?"

The stoic man steps fully in the doorway, putting his gun away as you drop yours in the tub. Abel shifts as he whimpers and you wince. "Jax! Upstairs bathroom!"

Abel realizes his uncle's voice and dad's name, so he moves to turn. Happy is quick to lift him, his eyes widening at the blood soaking his clothes. "S'fine. My blood," you tiredly tell him. "I didn't… I didn't let them touch him."

"You did real good." Happy's assurance makes you smile, but you're just so tired. As your eyes slide shut, you hear, "Hey! Don't do that. Stay awake, YN."

"Tryin'…" Pounding footsteps race up the stairs and it isn't long until Jax, Chibs, and Opie are pushing their way into the bathroom as well. Jax takes Abel right away, eyes scanning the room before they land on you. Happy and Opie move to help you out of the tub, but Chibs is quick to point out your bleeding wound. The last words you say are, "Call my brothers," before darkness consumes you."

. .

. .

Jax is pacing the hospital waiting room, blood covering his shirt and hands from where he carried Abel. Chibs had taken Abel back to the club to clean him up and fill in the others about what was going on, but now he's back and filling in the Sheriff about what they had walked in on at YN's house. Thankfully Jax and YN's neighbors liked them, and were honest about hearing gunshots before the Sons had frantically rolled up.

Opie and Happy are the only two sitting patiently, but their attention is drawn to a large group of men entering the room. Two men in particular glance around before making a beeline for Jax, but the others hang back by the door. It's evident these men mean business as they stand guard, their suits standing out among the scrubs, kuttes, and regular clothing of the others sitting in the waiting room.

When Jax notices the newcomers, his shoulders sag at the sight of YN's brothers. But his interest is piqued with the suited thugs behind the brothers, tattoos visible along their hands and neck.

The brothers quickly introduce themselves as Noah and Theo, both of their expressions grim.

"What happened?" Noah asks. He's the elder of the two, his muscled torso covered in a button down with their sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"They were after my kid," Jax immediately tells them, voice low. "She took a bullet for him and she's in surgery right now."

Both brothers' jaws clench.

"Do you know who they are?" Theo asks, tapping away on his phone.

"Yeah. It's another MC. They attacked us on a run and the son of the President took a fall off his bike. He's in a coma, so the President went after my kid in return."

"And your kid was in the care of our sister," Noah realizes.

"Yes."

Noah sighs, running a hand down his face. Then after a few more taps and texts, Theo grins. "Found them."

Jax frowns. "Found who?"

"The people responsible for putting our sister in the hospital."

Jax then tenses. "This is club business, man. We'll handle it."

Both Noah and Theo tense, but end up chuckling. Jax's jaw clenches, but he keeps his anger in check.

Noah says, "If you think it'll remain club business when YN wakes up, then that means my sister hasn't confessed the family secret."

Jax freezes. "What secret?"

"We had to get our start somewhere when our parents died," Theo tells him. "And it just so happened that each of our parents came from very powerful, very wealthy families. We worked our way to the top of the food chain and became rather notorious until we wanted out and settled into the business we currently have."

Noah starts to smirk. "Your club business just became cartel business, my friend. And our uncles are livid that their little girl was attacked."

Jax glances at his boys, but says nothing.

"We'll find them and keep them occupied," Theo says. "When YN is released, she'll be out for blood."

"And she'll get it," Noah muses. "After all, she is quite the little torturer."

When you wake up, you're unsurprised to find Jax by your bedside. You are surprised, however, to learn that he knows about your past thanks to your brothers promising bloodshed. You groan, but then remember Abel. And after assurances that Abel is fine, you relax.

You're anxious to know where you stand with Jax as he explains why you ended up in the hospital. He feels guilty for not telling you what was really going on or putting you on lockdown, along with the club, but you don't blame him for what happened. Dating the President of an MC, you were bound to be pulled into the violence sooner or later, and with your past you knew you could handle it.

When he runs out of steam, it's your turn to start apologizing for not telling him about your life with the cartels. You make sure he knows that you would have never endangered Abel, and if your past had come calling, you would have made sure that they were protected at all costs. Jax assures you he's not mad, but he did wish you would have told him given you knew about the roles some of his brothers played in the club.

But what's done is done, and Jax is more interested in what you plan on doing since your brothers have gone quiet after calling him to inform him that they've got a majority of the MC tucked away in a building that no one can hear the impending mayhem.

"They broke into my home and put a bullet in me just to get to Abel and send a message to you," you say, expression turning thunderous. "The one who shot me doesn't get to walk away. Hell, the ones who fuckin' raised a gun in Abel's direction are lucky that they'll be limping away after I'm done."

"Limping away?"

You slowly smirk at him, lowering your voice. "I'm not gonna draw out my punishment, but my brothers and my uncles' men sure as shit ain't gonna sit back. They're gonna make sure they get the message that they fucked with the wrong people."

Jax huffs a laugh and then ends up staying for as long as the nurses would let him, only leaving when YN's brothers came or he had to go pick up Abel so he'd see that YN was fine for himself.

Then after two and a half days, you're released.

You're still sore, but you've got nothing but vengeance on your mind. When your brothers send you the address of where they're holding several individuals for you to interrogate, you get dressed and head for Teller Automotive.

Some of the guys are surprised to see you up and about, but you wave off their concern as you continue towards the club portion of the shop.

The usual sweetbutts are milling about, cleaning up and most likely getting ready for a party since it is a Friday. You spot Jax and Juice at the bar as Juice taps away on a laptop.

"Boys," you greet as you walk up behind them. "Whatcha workin' on?"

Jax turns in his seat, eyes subtly widening as he stands. "You're out! Why didn't you call me?" He's quick to carefully take you in his arms, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

"Because if I'd have called you, you'd have taken me home and coddled me."

"Well yeah. You were shot."

"I got shit to take care of, Teller, and I'm not wasting another day."

"Then what are you doing here?"

You shrug. "I just thought that you'd want to see the MC face their consequences."

"Now? You're going to do that now?" He asks, his gaze darting down to your covered abdomen.

"Yep. "My brothers procured a place just on the outskirts of Charming where we won't be interrupted. You in?"

"Well, yeah. Obviously."

"Good. Then gather whoever's in and follow me."

As you sit in your car, you watch Jax as speaks with several of brothers to see who he's going to leave in charge. And after everything is settled, only five follow Jax to their motorcycles- Opie, Happy, Juice, Tig, and Chibs.

You start your car and start to drive, pausing by the gate until Jax and the others start to roll out. You take off, keeping your speed down as you drive through the town. But the moment you get to the road leading out of Charming, you step on the gas and race towards the location your brothers sent to you.

You drive along an empty stretch of road until you turn down a dirt road which is surrounded by empty crop fields that have seen better days. The road leads up to a dilapidated farmhouse, a very rusted horse corral, and behind all that is a barn where several vehicles have parked.

You park and get out, waiting for Jax to find the perfect spot to park their motorcycles. Once they do, you wait until they gather around.

"I know this started off as club business, but now it's cartel business. I can't have you questioning me in there."

"This is your playground," Jax says. "We're just here for a show."

You nod and then turn towards the barn doors, pushing them open with the help of Chibs and Tig when they get stuck. Inside, several men are hanging about on turned over crates or bales of hay, some even sitting at a small wooden table playing cards. Music plays softly in the background, but it's cut off the moment your presence is noticed.

Immediately, every man and woman scramble to their feet as you approach.

In the middle of the barn, there's a line of eight men with burlap sacks over their heads sitting in chairs with their wrists tied down to the armrests and ankles tied to the legs. Walking down the line of men, you snatch the sacks from their heads.

"Wakey, wakey, motherfuckers." Each man is clearly exhausted, agitated, and pissed off.

You save the MC President for last, smirking as he sneers at you. "Stupid bitch." He seethes. "Let us go. Right now."

"Bitch," you muse. "If you're going to insult me, at least call me a cunt. Or whore. Those words have much more of an impact."

"Cunt."

Your fist whips out, striking him across the face so hard that his head jerks to the side. He turns to glare back up at you, spitting blood that lands on your pant leg. "Now, now. If you're going to insult me again, at least be creative about it. Your lack of creativity is sorely disappointing." He roars at you, trying to free his wrists and feet, but you merely laugh and continue to pace in front of his men. "Now I'm sure you're all wondering why you're here and it's quite simple, really." You stop pacing, expression hardening. "You fucked with the wrong woman."

Then like a switch has been flipped, you go back to smiling and pacing, gesturing wildly as you talk. "Normally I wouldn't touch MC business with a ten foot pole, but you fuckers messed up. You broke into my home and went after a child under my care- a child that I hold very near and dear to my heart. So, now your piss poor attempt at taking over territory that doesn't belong to you has now come under cartel jurisdiction, and I will make sure that any stupid motherfuckers who dares to come after the Sons of Anarchy will pay a price."

"Fuck that. We didn't cross any cartel!"

"Oh honey," you mockingly coo as you come to a stop in front of the one who spoke. "I am part of the cartel." Turning around, you walk towards a long table and lift the cloth laying atop of it. Beneath the cloth, there's a variety of weapons. You tuck a glock into the back waistband of your jeans and then grasp a dagger in your dominant hand. Then turning to walk back towards the bound men, you smirk. "Now what I want are the assholes who attacked me and dared to point a gun at a child. You give me those men and the rest of you can walk out of here."

Silence.

Dead fuckin' silence.

"Nothing?" You chuckle. "Come on, guys. Give 'em up. I swear it's not worth protecting them. I mean, I can probably figure it out. Eyes are windows to the soul and all that rot. You might have been wearing masks, but I still remember those cowardly glints very well."

"Fuck you! I ain't no coward."

"Bingo!" You shout, pointing the tip of your blade at the culprit. Walking up to the guy, you can't help but laugh as he realizes his mistake and clamps his mouth shut. "One down, one more to go."

"I ain't telling you shit."

"No?" Switching the dagger to your other hand, you pull the glock free from behind your back. You step close to the man, taking aim at his crotch. "Are you sure about that?"

He cruelly smirks. "You're all talk and no-"

BANG!

The guy immediately starts screaming, his buddies struggling in their chairs, and you laugh. When you glance around the room, you see those you consider family chuckling and the Sons cringing in sympathy as they cover their crotches. You walk around so you're standing behind the screaming fool, swapping the dagger and gun in your hands so the dagger is back in your dominant hand. "Going once… going twice…" He continues to scream, and you sigh when no one else speaks up.

And then before anyone can comprehend what you've done, you've dragged the blade across the guy's neck.

As he gurgles on his blood and his friends shout obscenities at you, you walk around so you're standing before them once again.

"That's three of my men you've killed already," the President says. "I think fair's fair."

"I want the last one," you say. "One last guy and you're good to go."

No one says anything, but the President's expression hardens. There's a cold glint in his eye that you're very familiar with, and you know that should he walk out of these barn doors, he'll do anything and everything for revenge. "Samuel. I sent Samuel."

The Samuel in question squawks and you smile beautifully at him over the shoulder before staring at the President once more. "Harsh. Selling out your own guy like that." You saunter up to him, sighing. "But he's the thing; I hate snitches."

Then before the President can blink, you take aim and pull the trigger. The bullet hits him right between the eyebrows.

The struggling, bound men all seem to cease movement and you turn towards them. "Now that that's out of the way…" You walk back towards Samuel, scoffing at his whimpering. "You might get to live today, Sammy, but not without something to remember why messing with the Sons a big no-no."

"And w-what's that?"

You slowly smile. "Open your fist, Samuel. Lay your hand flat against the armrest."

His eyes widen as he whimpers, but he hesitantly does as you've said. Then when his hand is nice and flat, you drive your blade through the back of his hand, pinning it to the arm rest.

As he screams, you sneer at him and then start to make your way towards the Sons. On your way, you hand off your gun before coming to a stop in front of Jax and pasting on a smile as you glance at each Sons. "Who's hungry?"

"Marry me," Happy grumbles.

You laugh at him, winking, and then glance back at Jax. "You're a little psycho," he says.

"Only when the occasion calls for it. But seriously, can we go get food?"

Jax laughs as he sidles up to your side, sliding an arm along the back of your shoulders. "Do burgers sound good?"

"Burgers sound marvelous. I also want a vanilla milkshake."

"Good. We'll go grab some and surprise Abel. He's been itching to go to your house again."

"Ugh. Your kid is so adorable. But maybe let me settle in before you grab him. My abdomen is on fire and if we tell him I'm sick, maybe he won't be so hyperactive."

"Let me see."

Begrudgingly, you lift the hem of your shirt and glance down. Sure enough, you've bled through your bandages. "New plan; No Abel."

"What? But-"

"Nope." Jax squeezes you to his side as you sigh. "You're gonna go home, Chibs will follow to patch you up, and I'll go pick up some food. Abel can go one more day without seeing you."

"Boo."

The Sons chuckle.

"What about us?" Juice asks, gesturing between himself, Tig, and Happy.

"I don't care, Juice. Do whatever you want."

As they head towards their motorcycles, Jax walks you to your car.

"So, are you really okay with this?" You ask. "Okay with me and all that I'm capable of?"

"Yeah." Jax nods. "More than okay, actually. It's good to know that should shit find its way to your doorstep again, you'll handle it."

"Damn right I will." You swing around so you're standing in front of Jax, arms wrapping around his waist as his go around your shoulders. "I will protect Abel with my life again and again. Never doubt that."

"Just Abel?" His eyebrow arches.

"You're a close second," you muse. Leaning up on the tips of your toes, you peck his lips. "Now seriously. Food, Teller. I need food."

"Yeah, yeah." He kisses you again. "Go home and get settled. I'll be there soon."

[wetpussyju1ce]

Coconut & Tangerines

jax teller x poc fem reader

1.7k words

tags: pining, love at first sight, size difference, threats of violence, canon-typical jax behaviour/violence, Jax is in lovvveeeee, not beta read, writer is in love w this dumbass and thanks to him, this side blog exists + he brought writer out a writing rut <3 all because he made me horny. don't ever underestimate the power of an ovulating woman and her pussy. amen.

Jax doesn't expect to meet the love of his life in their dingy bar, barrelling through the doors, fuming and crying no less.

Everything was as usual, smoke filled up the place, stinking like tobacco and cheap beer. Men laughed and cheered as they played pool and gambled, random profanities would be shouted once in a while over the radio playing in the background. It was just like any other day, pretty mundane for the gang of bike riders, that is until the doors burst open, a pretty sight graced their establishment.

Jax didn't look up from the game of cards he was in the middle of, that is until she spoke, "Where is he?" The words were growled, more like. With as much ferocity as a kitten in Jax's eyes when he finally looked over.

The girl was panting, standing there while clutching her handbag in one hand, and her phone in the other. Her eyes were glassy and furious, scanning the bar's clientele frantically, looking for someone. And, Jax hoped that no one of the assholes in his gang were dating her because she was oh so pretty. She had on a long sleeved white top, the material soft and fluffy, cropped and falling off one pretty shoulder, her hips were covered in a small jean skirt, held close by a sparkly silver belt, more for show than anything as the skirt was tight and small enough to stay still on her body.

Then came in her heeled boots, that stopped right where her knees started, leaving the soft skin of her thighs exposed to the elements, and to the eyes of everyone in the bar to ogle at.

"Where are you? You stupid dickhead!" She shouts, pushing through the bigger bodies of the bike riders in search of the origin of her anger. Jax leans back in his chair, to get a better view of her glassy eyes and those devastatingly gorgeous and plump pink lips, the lower lip trembling when she's not shouting.

That's when she finally gets her hands on a shoulder, spins the man around and rips the hood off his head, Jax's frowns when he sees a young face, a much too young face to be in here. So he pushes his chair back, placing his cards face down and walking towards the woman and the boy she just grabbed, "Did you lose your fucking mind? What the fuck are you doing here? Your friend told me about your little plan!!"

She's fuming, crying now, hitting the boy on the chest, and be barely budges, her hits not affecting him in the slightest, but her words do make him lower his head in embarrassment at getting caught. "Huh? What do you have to say for yourself?"

The whole bar is watching them at this point, no one moving to interrupt them, watching the drama unfold. Except Jax, who easily makes his way to the crying, distressed girl, "Now, what's going on here?"

He stands next to the girl with the wet Bambi eyes, offers her a small smile and looks at the boy, putting a hand on his shoulder, "How old are you, son?"

The boy shakes his shoulder, trying to escape his grip with an uncomfortable look on his face, "I'm 18-"

"He's 15, and he's my little brother." She sniffles and glares at her brother.

"You're not old enough to drink, but you knew that. So why did you really come here?" Jax asked, bending his head to try and meet her brother's eyes. The boy doesn't say anything and when Jax thinks he won't speak, he looks up, meets his eyes with as much confidence as possible and says, "Let me in your gang."

Jax just stares at him, "Do you even have a motorcycle?"

"I'm not stupid, I know what you do! I'm fast and-" Jax decided he's heard enough and grabs him by the neck like a disobedient pup and drags him out of the bar, his sister right behind them as the boy tries to escape his hold, spitting curses left and right.

"Actually, you are pretty fucking stupid. You want to know to know why?" Jax throws him on the pavement, watching the boy catch himself on his hands and knees. "I'll tell you," He runs a hand through his hair, "You believe made up stories you hear in the streets, and that will get you killed. That's why you need to stay in high-school and never step a foot in our bar!"

Jax sighs, "You better thank your sister for saving your life."

Her brother gets up, looking extremely embarrassed and angry, dusting himself off, he clenches his fist and glares at Jax, at that he can understand, the boy is young and dumb, he was handled like a puppy out in public. But what he can't stand for, is when her brother turns to glare at his sister, and Jax moves the second he sees the boy take a step forward, jaw set and fists clenched.

Jax stands in front of her like a mountain, "Try it, and I'll break your fucking jaw, boy."

Jax hears a whimper and his blood boils, his sister cares for his well-being and the shit wanted to repay her kindness with violence and hurt.

Her brother spits right in front of Jax's feet and takes off. Jax would chase him and set him straight if it was any other day, but it wasn't. He had the prettiest and sweetest girl in his hands to check up on. Jax straightens his kutte and turns around, seeing sadness written all over her smaller face. She covers her face with her hands and lowers her body so she sits on the hard, cold and dirty concrete of the pavement.

He looks around, rubbing the back of his neck as he watches her shoulders slump and her phone to ding with a notification, she wipes her wet eyes with the back of her hand and reads the message she received. Her wet, dark eyelashes blink as her eyes read over the message and she sighs again, eyes welling up with tears. Jax sighs and goes to sit next to her as she shoves her phone in her handbag.

"You alright?" He asked, studying the side of her devastatingly gorgeous face.

She sniffles and turns to look at him, their bodies just barely touching, and Jax's heart jumps at the bounce of her dark curls, framing her face like a cloud, a real life angel, "I was meant to go on a date, you know?"

"What happened?" He blinks.

"I'm officially 30 minute late and my date messaged me. Let's just say he isn't happy at being stood up." She mumbles. Jax hums, "Why don't you call him and explain why you're late?"

She closes her eyes for a second, then opens them again, smile wobbly, "He's going on a date with another girl. He hates me now. It won't change anything."

Jax frowns, "Sorry but your date sounds like an asshole. You could have been kidnapped or got into an accident and he's-"

"It's okay," She chuckles, not a ounce of humour behind it.

"It's not. You've had a down right shitty day, darlin'" Jax says, suddenly getting up. "Look, come have a drink or two." He sticks one of his hands out, looking at her expectantly. She bites her lower lip, "I'm sorry I don't- I don't drink." Jax smiles a little, "Then how about this, let's get ice-cream."

She brings her knees to her chest and shakes her head, "I don't-"

"You're already all dolled up, so you may as well do something. Let yourself have one good thing today, hm? On me." Jax added, he's starting to feel a little stupid because he's sure he's not being subtle at all. He hopes he doesn't come off as some jackass who sees her as an opportunity. He wants to help, he really does. And the fact that she happens to be so pretty that it makes his heart melt, wasn't his fault. "And we'll talk about your brother too, if you want."

She thinks about it and nods, finally placing her hand in his. Jax's eyes almost widen at the size difference, but he acts cool and clears his throat, getting his hand back to shove it in his pocket, his fingers tingling where she touched him. She dusts herself off, wiping the back of her skirt with her hand as he rushes inside to settle his tab, slamming cash on the counter and ignoring his guy's hollers and whoops, he shakes his head, a small smile on his lips as he makes his way to his parked bike, pulling his keys out of his pockets.

"Have you ridden a bike before?" He asked, getting his only helmet out as she made her way to him, looking at his bike, "Like this? No."

"I'll drive slow, don't worry." He kindly smiled at her, taking a step towards her, holding his helmet with both hands, "Can I?"

"Oh yeah, of course." She jumps, straightening her back and watching Jax push her curls out of her forehead with his fingers, and then place his helmet carefully over her head, snapping it shut and taking a step back.

She watches him throw a leg over the machine and put his key in the ignition, the beast roaring to life as he pulls it up with his feet and arms, "Get on," He motions with his head and she wears her handbag on one arm and sits behind him, getting comfortable and placing her hands on his shoulders, "What's your name?" She asked.

"Jax. What's yours?" He said loudly over his bike's engine. She replied and he whipped his head back, "WHAT?"

She nudged closer, repeating her name again and he grinned, knowing full well he heard her the first time, he just wanted her closer, for safety purposes of course!

"You smell real nice, what's that?" He shouted over his shoulder. She got closer, her chest pressed against his back, "Coconut and Tangerines lotion!" Jax grinned, she smelled delicious and he was hungry. He hopes wherever they're going, that they'll have tangerines flavoured ice cream, because he really doesn't think she'll let him bury his teeth in her sweet skin like a greedy bastard after knowing him for 10 minutes. Or maybe she would, who knows.

"Where's your helmet?" She asked, wrapping her arms around his waist as he finally turned the bike around, entering the road.

Jax looked over his shoulder, "Don't worry about that. Hold tight, Tangy." That's all the warning she got before he took off, leaving a cloud of dust behind.

"I'll drive slow" my ass.

[f1samcro]

Baby Momma

Based off this ask from @bear-ink

Hi, I love your writing. Please could I request Jax Teller ? Jax and reader are co parenting, and Tara isn’t making it easy for them with her jealousy, but she is the mother of jax’s child and he stands by her over everyone else, as he never stopped loving her.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Masterlist

You and Jax had loved each other, really. You'd been there after Tara had first left, held him and let him cry. And once he stopped being upset, you let him hold you close and take you out on dates. By the time you were 23, after being together for three years, you got married. Life was good. You two were good. Until you weren't. You couldn't really remember when, it wasn't a sudden change. It started with Jax coming home a little later, not much, but enough for you to be almost in bed. Then you both stopped talking so much, stopped leaning in for random kisses when you walked past each other. You two tried. Tried counselling. But it was staring you right in the face, you and Jax just didn't love each other like that anymore. So, you split after seven years of marriage.

You were supposed to move out after you found some footing. That was the plan, but you had to skip out on an apartment showing due to illness, and Jax had decided to stay and look after you. (You really weren't well.) After a few days, he insisted that you go to the doctors. That's when you found out. Pregnant. Three months. The only thing you could think of was you and Jax's 'one last time'. He insisted you stay in the house, so you did.

On the 25th of August 2008, Abel John Teller was born. You and Jax found your rhythm. Gemma had practically applauded you two for your ability to co-parent. Until Tara showed back up. It was bound to cause problems when you swung the door open to see her during Abel's first birthday party. To his credit, Jax did loom over your shoulder when you didn't come back quickly, and he had told her to go away. Then he slammed the door closed, planted his hands on your shoulders, and pushed you back into the kitchen just in time for cake.

But after that, Tara was around a lot more. You and Jax had found it easier to co-parent a baby in the same home. You agreed you would move out when he started school. But for now, if Jax wanted some alone time or time with a woman, he would stay at the club for the night and be back home by lunch. A kiss to Abel's head, hand running over it softly, and a kiss to your cheek. But then that stopped. Because when he'd open the door, Tara would follow him in. He kept the small ritual for a while, until you heard a nasty-sounding argument between the two. Then he stopped. And Tara kept trying to mother Abel. Would push you out as much as she could. You let her more than you should've, trying to keep the peace between Abel's father and his girlfriend. But this was your last straw. You were taking Abel to the park, and Tara tagged along. And then she took Abel from your arms, the second she saw people she knew. Introduced him as her son, and you as the nanny.

The second you got home, you rounded on Jax. Snatching your baby out of Tara's arms, "If you don't sort her the fuck out, I'm leaving. And I'm taking Abel with me."

"Woah. Hey. C'mon, let's not overrea-"

"Don't finish that sentence, Jackson. If anything, I'm underacting. I've let your stupid bitch walk all over me. I'm done. Sort her out, or I'm gone."

Jax furrows his eyebrows, looking over your shoulder at Tara, who was fuming. "The hell did you do, Tara?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit. She's not threatening to take my son away, jus' 'cos you did 'nothing'."

She narrows her eyes at him, watching as he tilts your face up and leans forward to kiss your forehead, whispering something. You nod and turn, walking to Abel's room to put him to bed.

Jax stares his girlfriend down until you return, you sigh softly and look at him. "I took Abel to the park, and she tagged along. Saw her friends, how she got the-"

"Stick to the story, darlin'."

You huff, crossing your arms, "Snatched him outta my arms, introduced him as her son. And me as the fuckin' nanny."

Jax runs a hand over his head, "What the hell, Tara!"

She straightens her back, "What?"

He narrows his eyes, "You think I haven't noticed? Not the first time you've pulled this shit. And we've discussed it. Multiple times. You're not Abel's mother. She is. And you'll show her some goddamn respect."

Tara scoffs, "You're taking her side?!"

"Why wouldn't I? She's the mother of my child. I'm always gonna take her side. 'Specially when she's not the one in the wrong."

Tara glares, "Always. Right. And if she was wrong?"

"Then I'd be havin' this discussion with her." He looks over at you, and then back at Tara, "I think you should go."

She blinks, "What?"

"Get. Out."

She shakes her head, "C'mon, Jax. I love-"

He cuts her off, "I don't. I won't love someone who's tryin' to tear my family apart. So get out. Don't come back."

She sneers, turning to you, "You stole him from me!"

Jax scoffs, "Wasn't ever really yours. Not when you couldn't respect my family."

"I was supposed to be your family!"

Jax tilts his head, scrutinising her, "You could've been. But you can't understand that she's my family. I need-"

"Her. You need her! You still love her!"

Jax nods, "Maybe I do. Can't exactly blame me, can you? You expect me to sit here and watch her be the best mother my son could ask for, and not fall back in love with her?"

Both you and Tara pause, watching each other. She turns abruptly and storms out of the house, door slamming behind her. You look over at Jax, who shakes his head, "Movie?"

You nod slowly, "Movie it is."

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Hypothetically speaking" - Juice Ortiz x Reader

SUMMARY: It's basic etiquette to not try your luck with a friend's girl. But when that friends seems to have no respect for the girl, perhaps it's basic etiquette to give her the affection she deserves.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 3k

Truthfully, everyone knew it wasn't going to work out - everyone except for you. Whether you are too pure or delusional, the thought never even occured to you, while the other members of the motorcycle club knew the bitter end the moment they saw you. At first, none of them thought much of it. That's just how Jax Teller rolled, there is nothing new in that matter. It was the subsequent weeks that made them dread the inevitable:

Jax brought you around the clubhouse to help out with the accounting, housekeeping or party-throwing. Usually, you were holding a pan, a broom or a pen in your hand. Or certain other things whenever Jax needed tending to his more carnal desires.

Nonetheless, the other Sons have gotten to know you personally and it was that new friendship that bore dread in their chests. You seemed to have a curious talent for making people feel seen. Even the smallest of details never escaped your attention. Refilling the bar for the night, you'd always find time to ask Happy about his mother's health and how he was holding up. Chibs and Tig have come to expect you to ask them about their children. Their answers rarely changed and so did yours: 'I'm sure they're thinking about you.' The biggest surprise came from the prospects as they had grown accustomed to everyone pushing them around and yelling at them. So when you'd ask them whether they were hungry, at first they were sure it was some kind of a test or a ruse.

For Juice, those little signs of a soft heart were nails in his coffin. Whenever he was spending several hours in front of the computer, you'd appear with a drink and a small snack. On top of that, you always made it seem like these small acts of service are something obvious - it would be entirely strange to not care for others simply because you can. Usually, your presence would slow down his progress as Juice was willing to exchange his worktime for a conversation with you. As desperate as it may sound, he came to the conclusion that his job will still be there in twenty minutes but you will be gone the moment Jax enters the clubhouse and takes you away. Sometimes he wondered if he had Teller's charisma, would you give him a chance? Considering you were seeing his friend, he never planned on acting on his feelings. Even the thought made him cringe: fantasizing about fellow member's girl? That's a rather large 'no-go'.

As usual, the dread settled in the men's chests when you entered the clubhouse. Then, it grew ten sizes as they all silently realised that the inevitable was about to play out in front of their hungover eyes. You passed the threshold in a somewhat hesitant manner like you always did, unsure whether you're interrupting something or are even wanted there. Bobby, Tig and Chibs greet you but they're unable to hide a strange sadness to them. None the wiser, you chalk up their lack of humour to the aftermath of a night filled with vices.

The clubhouse is a temporary ruin. Bottles and glasses are scattered across all flat surfaces. One of the tables is slanted, missing one of its legs. A few pairs of bright-coloured underwear are lying here and there. Something tells you that yesterday you missed a truly historic night of fun.

"Is Jax around?" you ask. The men exchange a meaningful gaze but it goes unnoticed by you. "He left his shirt at mine yesterday afternoon, I was hoping to return it."

Tig's face cringes. There's a sorry look in his eyes. "Sweetheart-"

"He just left, actually," Bobby interjects. "Don't know when he'll be back."

You look between them, beginning to sense tension. "Alright," you answer, unsure what to make of the situation. "Then I'll just leave it in the dorm room."

Their silence makes you wary like there's a piece of information that you're missing while it's fairly obvious to others; something hidden in plain sight. You walk past them, when Tig's conscience puts up a fight once more. He makes a step towards you, hoping to stop the disaster about to unfold. Chibs, however, grabs his arm before the man can realise his plan.

"He's made his bed, brother," the Scotsman says in a low voice lest you hear their conversation.

"Come on, man," Trager answers with a look of disbelief on his face. "She doesn't deserve that."

"Aye, she doesn't." The man nods. His stern expression reveals that he, too, is more than unhappy with the unfolding events. "But it's already happened."

Juice is either really lucky or terribly unlucky to be walking down the corridor at the same time as you. His lips widen in a smile and he's about to call out to you, when he notices the white t-shirt in your hand. In a split second of considering his selfishness and your feelings, Juice decided to act against his own interest. He picks up his pace and manages to block the dorm room door just as you were about to put your hand on the handle.

"You really don't want to go in there. Trust me." Juice is trying his best to sound like he's joking but he's not a good liar - especially when you're the one he's attempting to deceive. True feelings are slipping through the cracks and you notice his nervousness.

"What do you mean?" you ask. The weirdness of the guys' behaviour that day is putting you on edge. What on Earth is going on? "It's not like there's a biological warfare behind that door."

Two laughing voices are audible from inside the room: one belongs to Jax, the other probably to a woman. Something stirs inside you, anxious and dreadful but you push it further down. No need to get upset before you get all the facts, right?

"See? Everything's fine," you say to Juice, although the reassurance is really for yourself.

The door swings open with a slight moan of the hinges. Then, as you take in the scene before you, it feels like time has slowed to a halt. Jax is sitting on the edge of the bed, scandily clad in the thin bedsheets. Maybe he covered himself when he heard the door open or he wasn't planning on getting up just yet. In the bathroom doorway stands Ima, dressed in a rather tacky purple lingerie - the cheap kind that desperately tries to have some semblance of luxury. Had the situation been less agitating, maybe you'd think that it's a fitting piece of garment for a woman of her sort.

It's hard to say whether it's the shock or resilience but you manage to keep yourself whole. The last thing you're going to do is cause a scene.

"Brought your shirt." You disturb the akward silence. Jax's expression is unreadable but Ima appears rather amused - there's a sly grin on her face. Her quiet snickering makes tears pool in your eyes. "Thought you might want it back."

Wanting to evacuate as fast as you can, you lay the t-shirt on the dresser by the door and turn around to leave the room. Juice hesitantly whispers your name as you brush past him but you can only muster a quiet apology.

Jax, suddenly realising the consequences of yesterday's impulsiveness, hastily puts on a pair of pants. He keeps yelling your name, begging you to stop and let him talk to you properly but you don't give in. Running out of the dorm room, he's stopped by Juice, who grabs his arm.

"I think you've done enough, man," Ortiz states in an angered tone.

For a moment, the two of them stare each other down in silence. The tension feels like a forest fire - one moment of carelessness might lead to a true disaster.

Both men are aware of the other's affections. It is only now that they admit this knowledge.

"You need to back off," Jax whispers. Juice is disillusioned that the Vice President would have no inhibitions in caving his face in.

But lovers oh-so-frequently tend to grow just a little unwise the more they love. Perhaps that has made all the difference on that dreadful morning.

"No," Juice says while shaking his head, "I think I should go after the crying girl who just saw her boyfriend naked in a bed with someone else."

"That's not your concern."

Looking over the blond's shoulder, Juice catches Ima's malicious amusement. She knew exactly what she was doing and not for a moment did she feel bad about it. When he looks at Jax again, his dark eyes carry more contempt than anger. "Apparently, she's not your concern either."

Before the young Teller can continue their argument, Ortiz is running down the hallway. Bobby, Chibs and Tig ask him something but he only gives them a disinterested 'later' and continues his search for you.

Despite the perfect view of the parking lot from the rooftop, you didn't notice Juice approaching you. Only when you heard the rattling of the ladder did a wave of shame flood your mind. You didn't want anyone seeing you like this, especially people of formidable grit. Some part of you dreaded being considered weak. If you were just a little more honest with yourself, maybe you'd realise that what you were truly afraid of, was the outside confirmation of what you'd already believed about yourself - too weak, too emotional to ever fit in this life.

The shame, however, seems to evaporate the moment you see Juice's apologetic expression. He always had a strange air about him, an aura you couldn't quite explain. Something about the man makes you think that you could tell him the most asinine or embarrassing thing and he would never think less of you.

With a hesitant, quiet 'hey', Juice sits down next to you. Despite his own desires, he leaves a gap between the two of you. His eyes keep switching between looking at his fiddling hands or the side of your face as though he's unsure what's the correct course of action.

"I'm stupid, aren't I?" you finally speak up. Turning your head to look at Juice, you notice a sudden change in his expression - for some reason, he looks like he's about to burst into tears, too. "Believing that he would settle for me?"

There's so much he wants to say. An entire monologue is prickling at his tongue. You'd be the one settling for him, not the other way around. Never. But Juice manages to keep those thoughts to himself for now as they are not what you need to hear at this moment. Maybe, just maybe, one day he'll get to show you that whoever you decide to marry, no matter how noble or rich, you will be the one settling for them.

"There's only one stupid person in this situation and it's not you," he says in a serious yet gentle tone. "Okay, maybe three stupid people."

Despite his resolve, Juice is only a man and he, too, must break at some point. His hand fearfully reaches for your cheek. When you don't pull away, he hesitantly wipes away a tear rolling down your face.

"Three?" you ask in a quiet voice.

"Jax is one, for obvious reasons." With the back of his hand, Juice wipes away the other side of your face. "Ima is two. And the third... is me."

Confused, you furrow your eyebrows. "You? You're not stupid, Juice. Why would you say that?"

"I'm the king of stupid, actually." He lets out an airy, bitter chuckle. Suddenly feeling small, he retracts his arm. "I just tried to cover for my dick friend, so the girl I'm in love with doesn't get her heart broken. Extra stupid points for running after her like a lost puppy that just wants to make her happy."

"That sounds more lovely than stupid," you manage to whisper before another wave of emotions wreaks havoc. Tears stream down your face again but this time it's not only the bad feelings - there's something nice among them, too. A sense of relief and belonging; an overwhelming realisation that you're loved as a person and not only as a woman.

He doesn't complain or lecture you. Neither does he attempt empty words of comfort and encouragement. Juice doesn't know what he should say, so he settles for silence. However, his quietness speaks volumes. With a soft expression on his face, he keeps wiping your tears away.

"What do I do now, Juice?"

"Whatever you want," he answers with a strange lightness to his voice. It appears that his response is not something carefully woven but rather a cliché.

You sniffle loudly and although there's nothing attractive about that, it's candid. In Juice's eyes, it only makes you more beautiful. "Right now, I don't know if that list is very short or ridiculously long."

A corner of his mouth rises in a nostalgic smile. He seems to be recalling a memory.

"Remember that one time when you couldn't sleep and found me working at the clubhouse?" Juice asks. You only nod, unsure why he would suddenly remind you of that. "Remember what you told me when I talked about all the things I still needed to get done?"

"It's only three things," you repeat under your breath. Truthfully, you have almost forgotten entirely about that conversation. Juice had been going on about all the complicated steps that had to be done before calling it a day but, in the end, it was only three things. Granted, three time-consuming, challenging things but only three nonetheless. You never thought your comment meant so much to him.

"Exactly," he says as though he had just given you the perfect recipe for anything and everything. "I'm suggesting, you do two things now. First of all, get over the guy that couldn't appreciate you."

"Sounds smart but I'm not sure I know how to do that," you admit with a nervous chuckle. Jax Teller has been a tornado to your soul: came suddenly, wreaked havoc and simply moved on. There is no one to clean the mess, no one to put the pieces back together except those that survived. And you're still at the stage of debating whether you have, actually, survived Jax Teller.

"I guess the first step is not going back to him."

As simple as it sounds, the solution might just be one of the hardest things you've ever done. Nothing good comes easy, as they say. If it's true, you're going to reach for something truly incredible with this resolution.

"And the second thing I should do?" you ask. Deep inside, you're paying he's about to suggest something silly or relaxing.

Suddenly, Juice turns shy. This biker guy with tattoos and a loaded gun is fiddling with his hands and stubbornly avoiding your gaze. Despite his appearance, you think he's adorable.

"Well, uh..." He clears his throat in a vain attempt to get rid of his shakey tone. "If you want, no pressure of course but if you find it in yourself, then maybe you could at least think about grabbing dinner with me?" Whatever your expression looks like, it must make him even more nervous as Juice immediately begins downplaying his question. "Like I said, no pressure. I know it's bad timing all things considered, so it's cool if you don't want to, it's okay-"

"I'd love to," you interrupt him.

For a moment, he silently stares at you like a deer caught in headlights. "Cool. That's, um... nice."

You see him ever so slightly cringe at his awkward response but you don't think him weird. No, the nervousness makes you all the more convinced you want to go out with him - the anxiety proves that he cares more than he's brave enough to admit.

"Can we add a third thing?" you ask hesitantly.

Juice smiles at you as if today is the best day of his life; the kind of smile that slowly mends broken hearts. "What's on your mind?"

"Say, just hypothetically, how annoying would it be if Ima's car had slashed tires?"

He nods slowly, a shadow of mischief dancing across his handsome features. "Really annoying."

"And if she had to pay for new ones and there'd be a bullshit charge on the receipt like premium air or something?"

The man laughs. How can a sound leave you breathless?

"She would have a really fucking shitty day," he answers.

"Just hypothetically, I'd be satisfied."

"I think I know a guy. Just hypothetically."

Silence falls between you again. It's not tense. No, it's quite the opposite - the silence of two people who can just be. Now that happiness or at least a lack of sadness has entered your face, Juice is staring at you with an expression you can't describe beyond soft. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was not looking at you but at a rare, priceless treasure he has spent his whole life searching for. But you do know better; you know that, perhaps, people can be priceless, too.

A dark thought suddenly clouds your mind: Jax used to look at you the same way. Not always, not for long but he did. And yet, as he has proven, it meant nothing for him.

You push those thoughts away with all the almost-depleted strength you have left. It's no use crying and ruminating about the past when you have your future sitting right next to you. A bright, terribly good-looking future, one might even say.

"Can you just hold me?" you ask him quietly. The heartbreak of Jax's choice and the elation of Juice's confession have left you tired and vulnerable beyond all imagination. Such opposite emotions are ripping you open in conflicting directions. It's like dying and being reborn all at the same time.

"As long as you need, baby."

Juice wastes no time happily fulfilling your request. He brings your legs over and across his own, nudging you even closer towards him. Gently, he pulls your head to rest in the crook of his neck. As strange as it may sound, the man feels like a fortress protecting you from past and future heartbreaks.

[xh3llfir3x]

𝚃𝚒𝚐 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

“𝙷𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜”

𝙽𝚜𝚏𝚠 𝟷𝟾+

You let out a aggravated sigh as you rested your head against the barely working ac unit. This had been the first trip to Nevada you agreed to go on with Tig and you had already been regretting it.

Sure the bike ride from charming had been amazing. You couldn’t get over the rush that ran through your body as you rode on the back of Tigs bike but more than anything you couldn’t get over the fact that you would actually be spending time with your man instead of him just taking off for days.

Well,that’s what you had thought at least.

Tig had made it clear from the moment you got to the motel that this wasn’t going to be some kind of vacation. That he was there for business and he would be taking off throughout the day to handle that. You understood but what you didn’t understand was the fact he had been gone since 8 yesterday morning and it was now nearing midnight the next day.

The thought of it made your jaw clench. You were so mad at Tig and not only that but the heat of the motel room had only made your aggravation worse.

“Fuck this room.”

You stood up from your spot in front of the ac and grabbed the motel key off the bedside table,slamming the door to the room behind you. The night air of Nevada felt nice against your sweat drenched body. You let out a sigh and looked around,not really sure what you wanted to do out of the room.

The barely two star motel Tig had you all staying at was practically dead. Only three cars parked in the lot and you were sure two of those were workers.

Your eyes scanned the area until you landed on the pool. Remembering earlier you had put on the bikini you bought for this trip when you went out to tan.

“Bingo” you thought out loud and made your way towards it.

As you neared the gate to get in,the sound of Tigs engine broke the silence. You looked behind you and watched as he pulled up. Knowing that he had for sure seen you, you rolled your eyes and continued going for the pool.

“Hey doll!”

You heard Tig call out from behind you but you ignored it.

Your white tank top was stuck to your skin from sweat so you peeled it off,tossing it on a tattered up beach chair. Your American print bikini top that barely covered your breast was all Tig could see as he now walked over.

“Y/n,” Tig called out again “I’m sorry I was gone so long. You wouldn’t believe everything that has happened.”

He pushed himself through the gate and went to walk up to you but you had already finished stripping off your denim shorts and jumped into the pool. Making sure to splash him with water as you did so. You emerged from the water and glared up at him.

“Are you ignoring me?” He asked with an irritated sigh and crossing his arms against his chest.

You huffed “Tig for once I wish you would actually enjoy some time with me.”

You swam away from the side Tig stood and faced the other way,resting your elbows against the side of the concrete pool.

“C’mon doll I told you I wasn’t here for fun.”

You rolled your eyes and continued to ignore him. Silence clung the air and for a moment you thought he had gone back to the room defeated until you heard the clinging of chains and a zipper coming undone.

You looked back in curiosity and was met with quite the surprise. Tig stood there in nothing but his boxers

“What are you doing?” You asked completely forgetting that you were ignoring him.

Tig chuckled as he stood there with his hand on his hip before walking towards the pool stairs.

“I’m spending time with my ol’lady. Is that alright with her?”

You nodded and watched him get in the pool and swim over towards you. He stood in front of you now,his hands instantly resting against your hips under the water and pulling you closer to him.

“I’m really sorry y/n. I wish I didn’t have to do all the things I have to. I hope you know that if I could spend all the time in the world with you I would.”

For once his blue eyes showed a sign of empathy and sincerity. You chewed on the inside of your bottom lip, wanting nothing more but to still punish him, but you just couldn’t.

Moments like these were rare and you didn’t want to ruin it by being stubborn. You stood up on the tips of your toes and kissed him. You both kissed for some time in the middle of the pool. His hands stayed against your hips as he gradually pulled you closer against his body.

Before long you couldn’t help but to chuckle as something familiar had began to press against you.

“Tiggy?” You asked in between kisses. He hummed in response as he moved from kissing your lips to your neck.

“Maybe you and your friend down there should probably contain yourselves until we get back in the room.”

“Absolutely not.” He replied against your neck,biting onto a sweet spot as he did so.

You moaned out in response nearly melting from his sudden action.

“What if people see?” You asked but Tig had already moved his hands into your bathing suit bottoms.

“Let em see.”

His fingers ran against your slick slit before running around your sensitive clit. He knew your body more than you did and knew exactly how to get you going to not have a care in the world except pleasure.

You moaned and nestled your face in the crook of his neck as he worked his magic.

Before long he had two fingers pumping in and out of you. Making you tremble and cling onto him from the pleasure. You hadn’t even noticed that he had slowly been moving you towards the edge of the pool until your back hit the hard edge of it.

“I’m gonna make sure you’re so happy,doll” was all Tig said as he swiftly pulled the stings to your bathing suit bottom making them come undone.

His lips came back to yours and he used his tongue to explore the inside of it leaving you almost dizzy from excitement.

As he kissed you he pulled one of your legs to the side of him,lifting you up in the process and pulling your hips close to his.

You felt his hard erection at your entrance before he slammed into you. You cried out from the sudden mixture of pain and pleasure. He knew doing that made you crazy. Your hands were now gripping the edge of the pool as his hips slammed into yours,making you whine and moan from the intense feeling.

“Fuck you’re so tight baby.” Tig moaned out as he held your leg close against him. His thrust were so fast and rough and it had you wanting to already come undone from it.

He was so good and he knew it. It was something that Tig knew all too well and that something was if he couldn’t do anything right he knew he could have you coming and screaming his name.

He felt you tighten against his thick dick and smirked

“C’mon baby girl,” he grunted “cum all over my dick.”

His words and sudden deep depth had that ball in your stomach tighten to the point your head was thrown back in pleasure. Crying out his name and breathing heavily you came hard.

The feeling of you releasing against his dick and the look of euphoria on your face because of him had Tig cumming in an Instant.

He breathed out heavily almost panting as he rested his face on your chest. He was dizzy from pleasure and stood there with you like that for a few moments,soaking in the moment with you.

“I love you Tiggy. I really do.” You broke the silence followed by a small kiss to his now messy dark curls.

Tig looked up at you with hazey eyes. The feeling from his release mixed with the feeling of absolute love and happiness had him feeling high and he couldn’t do anything but smile in that moment.

He finally locked his lips with yours,kissing you with the most love he’s ever had before.

“God,” he murmured “I love you too y/n. How’s about we get out this pool and go lay down?” You giggled

“only if you can find my bathing suit bottoms for me?”

[brunettemarionette]

𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 😈 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞.

💜femalemechanic!reader x sons of anarchy

🔮summary. When you first got hired at Teller-Morrow, you thought you'd just be turning wrenches and fixing bikes, but it quickly became obvious that you're the new favorite around here.

But when a customer gets too bold and puts hands on you, suddenly everyone is reminded you're untouchable when the guys step in.

🌙t.w. Sexual Harassment. Threats of Violence. Intimidation. Mild Language/Crude Remarks. Physical Confrontation

✨wc. 1.1k

This post is what inspired this little femalemechanic!reader series I'm going to do so reblogs, comments and feedback are very highly appreciated. Please feel free to send ideas my way or inbox me (even if just for anonymous feedback). Hope you all enjoy!

The sound of wrenches clinking and engines rumbling filled the air at Teller-Morrow, the familiar scent of oil and grease clinging to your skin like a second layer.

The shop had quickly become a second home to you, though you still didn't fully understand the club's inner workings. What you did understand, however, was that the Sons of Anarchy seemed to take an unusual interest in your presence.

At first, you chalked it up to them being friendly.

Jax, for instance, always seemed to be around when you needed something though, in hindsight, you never actually asked for help. "Need a hand with that, darlin'?" he'd offer, even if all you were doing was tightening a bolt. He'd lean against a nearby workbench, arms crossed, watching with an amused smirk.

It was nice that they were all so willing to help, even if it sometimes felt like you had too many supervisors at once.

Opie had a similar habit of being conveniently nearby. He never lingered as obviously as Jax, but he was always nearby. "Just grabbing this," he'd say, reaching for a tool, rag, or something completely unnecessary. He'd stick around longer than needed, watching with that unreadable expression of his.

Then there was Tig. He had no concept of personal space; that much was clear. "Damn, girl," he'd say, leaning way too close for someone who didn't need to be in your workspace. "You sure you weren't born to work on bikes? 'Cause I swear, watching you turn a wrench is the highlight of my day."

You'd roll your eyes, laughing it off. Tig was just like that with everyone.

Even Chibs and Juice had their own ways of hovering. Chibs would tease, calling you lass and finding ways to keep you engaged in conversation, while Juice, sweet but a little awkward tried to get your attention with random trivia or stupid bets with the other guys.

And then there was Happy, who'd just silently walk into your work area and take a seat, watching as you tinker, all while moving that toothpick around in his mouth before stalking off again wordlessly a while later.

It was all a little overwhelming, but you figured this was just how the Sons were—flirty, overprotective, and oddly competitive with each other. Besides, it was nice to feel included. You'd never had this kind of easy camaraderie before in this environment, and you weren't about to question it.

Gemma, on the other hand, saw right through them. She watched it all unfold with a knowing smirk, arms crossed like a mother watching her kids make fools of themselves.

Even Clay seemed amused by the way the guys found excuses to be around you. "Bunch of idiots," he muttered one afternoon, shaking his head as Jax and Juice argued over who got to hand you a wrench before Happy silently handed one to you.

Gemma chuckled. "Let 'em have their fun."

You, of course, remained blissfully unaware that you were the fun.

That all changed the day a customer got a little too comfortable.

You were at the front of the shop, wiping your hands on a rag as you explained the details of a tune-up to a man who had just brought in his car. He was middle-aged, maybe in his late forties, with a cocky smirk that immediately set off warning bells, not that you noticed.

Smiling politely, you handed him the clipboard, explaining the breakdown and keeping your tone professional. "So, with the labor and parts, you're looking at about—"

"You got a pretty face for a mechanic," He interrupted, looking you up and down.

You blinked partly in shock at his audacity and the other in surprise he was so bold in his words. "Uh, thanks?" You tried to steer the conversation back. You were used to men either hitting on you or speaking down to you. "So, if you're good with this, we can—"

"You sure you wanna be doing this?" He smirked, leaning in slightly. "Seems like a waste. A girl like you should be doing something... prettier. A pretty girl like yourself should have a guy taking care of her."

You felt your stomach twist, your grip tightening on the clipboard, trying not to yell at the customer. "I like what I do," you said, clearing your throat and trying to keep your voice even. "Now, if you're good with the estimate—"

He didn't let you finish as his hand slid to your waist, fingers pressing just enough to make your skin crawl. "Come on, sweetheart," he drawled. "maybe I could take you out sometime. Show you what it's like to be treated right. Show you how a real man—"

The hand was gone before you could react. One second, the guy was standing too close, and the next, he was stumbling backward, Jax's fist curled in his collar. The sound of the impact—fabric twisting, shoes scuffing against the concrete—was sharp, final.

Jax's voice was low, dangerous. "You touch her again, you're leavin' in a body bag."

The shop had gone silent. Tools were set down, and chairs scraped against the floor as Tig, Opie, and Juice moved in. Chibs cracked his knuckles, and Happy—who still hadn't said a word—was now staring the guy down with an intensity that made your stomach drop.

The customer, who had, up until now, been cocky and self-assured, realized too late that he had made a very big mistake. His hands shot up in surrender. "Hey, man, it was just a—"

"Get the hell out," Jax snapped, taking a step closer. "Now."

The man didn't hesitate. He turned and practically ran out of the shop, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process, leaving his car behind without a second thought. The moment he was gone, the tension snapped like a rubber band.

It took you a second to realize you were still holding the clipboard in a death grip. You exhaled, forcing yourself to loosen your fingers. Opie was suddenly in front of you; his usual stoic expression softened. "You okay?"

You blinked at him, still processing what just happened. "Uh, yeah. I mean... that was a little intense."

Tig grinned, but there was still something dangerous in his expression. "Welcome to the family, sweetheart. No one touches what's ours."

You frowned at that. "Ours?"

Jax smirked, running a hand through his hair like he hadn't just threatened a man's life. "Don't think too hard about it, darlin'."

You did think about it. For about two seconds. And then you shrugged, figuring it was just their way of saying they had your back, but one thing was clear—this wasn't just a job anymore. These guys weren't just co-workers. They were family, and they had just made one thing very clear.

You are untouchable.

[tinyshyteacup]

Taglist: @tuesdayaddamss @mamawiggers1980 @youngadult9016 @samcrosfaith @staley83 @bethexo07 @anonymouse1807 @raven1234321 @vaugarkel @kellynickelsgirl00 @callmesev @vagharsnextsnack @lunajay33 @punkrockcakepops @sweetestrose569 @xoxo-sarah

----------------------------------------------------------

TW: Canon typical violence, cussing, Half-Sack is akward af, baked goods, tension, a mysterious stranger.

Part 9

Sugar Spice & a little bit of Vice - Part 10

It was mid-afternoon, and the heat outside had softened into something golden, filtering lazily through the lace-edged windows of the bakery.

The smell inside was comforting—fresh sourdough, vanilla, and spiced tomato chutney from sandwich prep. You were behind the counter, standing on tiptoe slightly to reach the top shelf, adjusting a row of flaky spanakopita you’d just brushed with melted butter.

The overhead fan creaked in a lazy rhythm, making your apron flutter at the hem.

The door chimed delicately.

You glanced up with a soft smile, expecting a familiar face—maybe a regular or one of the older ladies from the church next door.

But the man who stepped in was…different.

He was tall. His posture immaculate. His navy suit looked too expensive for this part of town, tailored like something from a silent movie or a courtroom drama.

His shoes barely made a sound on the old wooden floor, polished to an almost mirror-black shine. His silver hair was arranged almost too neatly, and he carried himself with the calm assurance of a man who’d never been told "no" in his life.

His gaze swept the interior once—not with the curiosity of a local, but with the evaluative precision of a businessman surveying property.

“What a charming little spot,” he said warmly, voice rich and honeyed with a trace of something older—New England, maybe. His eyes flicked to the chalkboard menu. “Independent, I assume? Not a franchise.”

You shook your head gently. “Oh, no. We make everything fresh here.”

"Of course you do,” he replied, smiling like you’d just proven a philosophical point.

“There’s something inherently honest about small businesses. Tradition. Not many of those left, not really.”

He stepped forward, glancing over the counter—not rudely, just enough to scan the rows of sandwiches you’d just wrapped and stacked.

“That smells… phenomenal,” he added. “You must take great pride in what you do.”

You smiled again, soft and a little shy. “I really do. My boss gives me a lot of creative freedom.”

"Delightful.”

He made no move to order yet—he just observed. Like he was studying the space, the layout, even you.

It wasn’t exactly leering, and it certainly wasn’t casual.

It seemed… measured. Polite on the surface. Stillness dressed in silk.

"My daughter and I are new to town, opening a new location, family-operated.” His fingers brushed the edge of the counter, tracing invisible dust.

“We’re quite particular about the environments we cultivate.”

You tilted your head, wrapping a sandwich in brown paper, not quite sure how to respond.

"This town has… interesting occupants,” he continued, eyes drifting momentarily to the window. Outside, Half-Sack was leaning against his bike, arms crossed, eyes on the street.

“Young men in… leather. Loud engines. Symbols tattooed on the skin.” His smile never faltered. “There’s a kind of bravado to it. Crude, certainly, but I suppose every town has its mischief-makers.”

You gave a little nervous laugh, not entirely sure if he was joking.

“…They’re not all bad,” you offered softly. “He’s just looking out for the bakery.”

His smile grew a fraction colder. "Of course. It’s not the individuals, dear. It’s the… culture. The chaos. A shame when small towns lose themselves to it.”

He placed both hands on the counter—deliberate, not threatening. Just enough to occupy space.

“You enjoy it here? Working alone?”

You nodded slowly, still unsure of his tone. “It’s peaceful, usually. And someone’s always nearby.”

His eyes followed yours to the window again, where Half-Sack had straightened up slightly, clearly sensing movement inside.

“Do you feel safe?” he asked, with that same neutral calm, as if he were asking about the weather. “With that sort of element around?”

You frowned faintly, caught off guard. “I… I’ve never felt unsafe. They’re actually quite protective... Loud sometimes.”

There was a pause.

His gaze lingered on you for a heartbeat too long before he nodded and said smoothly.

"That’s good. Safety is… everything. Particularly for women.” He smiled again—beneath it, something cold. "Forgive me, call it fatherly concern."

He cleared his throat “I’ll take… two dozen of your sandwiches. Whatever variety you recommend. For my associates.”

You blinked, quickly grabbing boxes and beginning to arrange the order. Grateful, almost, for the task—your hands were steadier than your voice had felt.

“Of course. Sir.”

As you worked, he watched, hands clasped behind his back. Not in the way most customers did—he wasn’t admiring your skill or chatting idly.

He seemed to be… assessing. Quietly assessing.

“Thank you. And if you ever do feel… overwhelmed by trouble, you should know there are always alternatives. Better communities.”

Before he left, he gave a courteous nod and paid in cash, far to much cash.

"For your trouble." He added before stepping out, the bell chiming once more. The door clicked closed behind him.

Seconds later, the door opened again. This time, it was Half-Sack. You didn’t even have to see his face to know he was tense—his boots sounded heavier, his shoulders slightly hunched.

“Who was that guy?”

You looked up from the wrapping station, still tying a string around a pastry box. “He said he’s opening a store? Ordered food for his 'associates' ... bit fancy for us.” You added jokingly.

“He say anything weird?”

You hesitated.

“…He asked if I felt safe. He asked about you like he was worried I might be intimidated. But I told him your sweet. I don’t think he likes gangs.”

You could feel his eyes darting between you and the spot where the suited man’s car had been parked.

“You alright there, Prospector?” you said gently

He nearly dropped his coffee cup trying to nod and give a thumbs up at the same time. “Y-yeah! Just, uh... neighborhood watch, you know?”

You smiled, amused. “Is that what Happy calls it, is it?”

“Just makin’ sure the bakery’s... secure,” he said, straightening up with mock seriousness. “Lots of pie thefts this time of year.”

You finished the knot on the last box, raising an eyebrow. “Pie thefts?”

“Mhm. Big problem,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Real epidemic. Especially those lemon meringue ones. That’s gang bait.”

You laughed softly, the sound light and effortless. “Well, I'm grateful they've got an armed guard then.”

Half-Sack looked both proud and sheepish. “Happy said not to let anything weird happen while he’s gone.”

You tilted your head, squinting. “You know what’s weird? A man in a $500 suit buying sandwiches and talking like he could own the country.”

That seemed to flip a switch in him. “See! I knew it. I mean, he just gave me this look, like—like I was a bug on his windshield or something.”

“Maybe he thought you were gonna mug him,” you teased.

He snorted. “Me? Mug somebody? Jesus.”

You laughed again, brushing a escaped piece of hair back from your cheek. “I’m getting used to having you around, Kipp.”

That made him freeze for a second, eyes wide. “Y-yea good ... thats good.”

You snorted softly, stepping up to slide a lemon meringue out of the cabinet “Here" you said sliding the pastry across to him.

“For keeping an eye on all the sandwich-related crimes.”

He grinned, cheeks flushed. “Thanks." He mumbled around the mouthful of treat that was now in his mouth.

The lunch rush passes, and Half-Sack excuses himself to the corner near the back, phone pressed to his ear. He keeps his voice low, but his posture says it all—straight spine, shoulders slightly hunched like he’s reporting to someone who doesn’t tolerate excuses.

Happy ... you thought hopefully.

You step outside for air, the sun warming your face. A breeze carries the scent of cinnamon and icing sugar from inside.

Your phone buzzes.

Happy: “You eat today, girl?”

You stare at the text for a long moment, lips parting just slightly.

There’s no emoji. No context as to what hes up to ... but your grateful for that part at least. Just that single, gruff check-in. But it’s more than enough.

Happy cares not in the way most people do—with flowers or speeches or constant contact. No, Happy’s affection is sharper, quieter. It shows up in guns cleaned. In warm blankets tucked under your chin. In a prospect posted at your bakery to make sure no one even thinks about making you flinch again.

You smile to yourself as you type out your reply.

The last of the sunlight filtered through the blinds as you walked Half-Sack to the door, the bakery warm with the scent of sugar and clean linen from your end-of-day wipe-down.

You had scrubbed every counter, stacked every tray, and dimmed the glow of the front into something soft and amber. Cozy.

Half-Sack lingered, he usually did, one hand on the doorframe, the other rubbing the back of his neck. That lopsided grin of his had started to grow on you—awkward but sincere, like a boy who still hadn’t figured out how to hold the weight of the kutte on his chest.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive with you till you get home?” he asked, shifting his weight.

“I’m sure,” you replied, offering a tired smile. “Brought my car. Honestly, I’ll be fine.”

He hesitated. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Just…” He glanced down, scuffing the toe of his boot along the floor. “You call if anything’s off, alright? Like, even if it’s just a weird sound. I got... uh, fast reflexes. Kind of... that and Happy would actually murder me if something happened to you.”

You raised an amused brow. “Thank you Kipp, but I watched you trip the broom this afternoon.”

“That thing moved,” he muttered, flushing red.

But then he gave a mock salute—two fingers, too fast—and ambled out toward his bike with one last awkward wave.

You watched until the echo of his pipes faded down Main Street, then turned back inside. The bakery felt bigger somehow in his absence. Quieter.

You moved through the place performing the nightly ritual—front lights off, side lights off, then the warm hum of the kitchen finally blinked to black.

You pulled on your cardigan, soft and familiar, and stepped out the back, locking the door behind you with a twist and a little pull to be sure.

Your car grumbled gently to life. You eased into the seat, both hands on the wheel like always. The sky had shifted—burning pink fading to a deeper blue, the first stars just beginning to glint through the treetops.

The air carried that hushed weight summer nights in Charming always did—like the whole town took a breath and held it in.

You weren’t in a hurry. You never were.

That’s when you saw it.

Off the shoulder of 18, tucked beside the old utility shed you always passed without thought, was a car. Not just any car. A convertible. Sleek and black and gleaming just enough in your headlights to catch the corner of your eye.

But the way it was parked—it was off. Crooked. Nose half-buried in dry grass. The front passenger door hung slightly open, like a mouth twisted into a silent scream, just enough to unsettle you.

Your brows pinched.

No lights.

No movement.

No silhouette in the driver’s seat.

You slowed, maybe out of habit. Maybe out of that gnawing voice that said look closer.

But you didn’t stop.

Your fingers curled a little tighter around the wheel, knuckles whitening. You could almost hear Happy’s voice in the back of your mind—telling you not to get involved. And to be fair, what were you supposed to do? Chase shadows ?

By the time you pulled into your driveway, the warmth of the evening had worn off. Your skin felt tight with a prickle you couldn’t shake.

You locked your car.

Locked your apartment door.

Double checked both.

In the kitchen, you filled the kettle and stood still as it boiled. The ticking of the wall clock felt too loud. The silence, too empty.

You poured the tea, chamomile and honey, trying to calm the tremor in your hands. But it was there—just enough to spill a splash on the counter.

You reached for the phone.

It sat on the counter like a challenge. You stared at it for a moment.

This is probably nothing.

You're tired.

You're being dramatic.

You're nerves are still recovering from the break in.

Still…

You dialed.

Not 911. Just the regular number for Charming PD.

“Hi, um…” Your voice came out small, the way it always did when you weren’t quite sure if you were overreacting.

“I’m sorry to bother you, it’s probably nothing, but... I just drove past something a bit odd.”

The dispatcher on the other end sounded calm. A woman. Steady voice. Patient. “What did you see?”

“There’s a car. A convertible. Black. Parked a bit funny off 18, near that old utility shed. The passenger door’s open, and I didn’t see anyone nearby. It just gave me a weird feeling. Probably just someone pulled over for a call, but... I thought maybe someone should check it out.”

You apologized twice.

Maybe three times.

The dispatcher said someone would take a look.

You thanked her, softly, tapping the phine against your chin for a moment after you hung up.

Your tea had gone cold.

You sat at the kitchen table, hands in your lap, brows drawn.

You didn’t know what you’d seen.

You didn’t know what you’d felt.

You didn’t know that you just reported Gemma’s car.

[moonypeaches77559]

------------------------------------------------------------

Imagine Chibs going to Jax after he got into an argument with you

"I don't know what to do, kid" Chibs rumbles in a Scottish gruff.

Jax takes a puff of his cigarette, sitting down by Chibs on the cold stone. "You can't keep anything from them in this life man........It won't end well"

Chibs's eyes face straight on. They're tired, full of shame and anger with himself. "I know........I know Jackie-boy..........."

------------------------------------------------------------

Gif Credit: Sarah Smith on Pinterest

[etclouie]

kinktober day eighteen - late night sex

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 summary: waiting for your boyfriend to finish up at the clubhouse, but you’re both too desperate to wait until you get home (Jax Teller x fem!reader)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 warnings: smut, car sex, unprotected sex(it’s me😇), creampie, reader is mentioned to be on the pill, vp jax, reader is described as wearing a skirt, readers car isn’t described apart from having back doors (if this makes sense??), uh pretty sure that’s it but lmk if i missed any

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 word count: 1.8k

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 a/n: season one jax my beloved

prev day | next day kinktober masterlist | main masterlist

you’d arrived at the clubhouse when the boys were in chapel, waiting for them to get out as you hadn’t seen Jax all day. the thump of music from the current party happening making your head spin a little as you sat down next to some of the other girls you knew. 

staying where you were sat as the chapel doors opened, watching him intently as he spoke to various people as he walked over to you. 

his hands going to the couch behind your head as he leaned down to kiss you, your hands soothing across his chest while he mumbled against your lips. 

“hi darlin’, you okay?”

nodding in response, eyes darting around the busy room before standing from the beat in leather couch. 

hands soothing across his chest and under his kutte, the leather outlining the broadness of his shoulders. a pleased hum leaving you at the sight of him, while a knowing smirk worked its way onto his face. 

reaching for one of his hands and leading him outside, mumbling out about just wanting to go home, but the words go in one ear and out the other. his attention locked on your hips as you walked, glancing over your shoulder at him at his lack of a reply and swatting at his chest. 

“mhm sorry sweetheart”

his voice held that lustrous tone, one you’d grown familiar with. leading him towards your car, his mind wandering even further before your soft hands are cradling his face. 

“can drop you off in the morning for your bike, would rather not flash everyone we pass”

the way his hands fall to your hips, and even under your skirt show he knows why you don’t want to go home on his bike. but the thoughts in his head started to take over, head nodding at any and all words falling from your lips while his hands kneaded at your ass under your skirt. 

“Jax, are you even listening?”

the words fall from your lips softly, despite the hint of frustration plastered across your face. he’s nodding again, but more sincere than before— actually listening this time. 

“you don’t wanna ride because you don’t wanna flash everyone, got it”

his hands continued exploring your body, palming and kneading at all the skin he could get his hands on. huffing out a breath of air as he leaned in to kiss you, soft at first before it became needy. his left hand leaving your body to fumble with the handle of the car door, getting it open and helping you inside. 

letting his eyes flicker across your body appreciatively before he was leaning in to kiss you again, murmuring out against your lips. 

“this okay darlin’? not pushing you, am i?”

shaking your head no in response, only to be met with a more serious look on Jax’s face. resting your hands on his shoulders and drawing shapes with your thumbs. 

“words, use your words”

“it’s okay, this is okay”

and the smirk on his face made you smile, a swell of pride filling his chest as he climbed further into the car, your body scooting back as far as you could go to give him more room. 

thighs spread as he settled as best he could between them, his big hands flipping up your skirt as his smirk deepened at the sight of your panties. 

the delicate lace clinging to your curves, his head dropping to kiss across your throat and up your neck to whisper huskily in your ear. 

“these for me?”

nodding as his thumbs hooked into the waistband and slowly pulling them off, a groan falling from his lips at the sight of your pussy drooling between your thighs. 

hands moving down to tug at his belt, trying to get it open and sighing as it wouldn’t budge. 

“eager huh?”

he chuckled out, sitting up on his knees as much as he could and working open his belt. watching him through your lashes as he shoved his jeans and boxers down enough to free his cock, the head of him already leaking precum. 

pulling him down into another kiss and feeling him smirk against your lips, his cock laying heavy against your thigh.

“need you Jax”

another chuckle left him before he was kissing you again, all teeth and tongue as he rutted against your thigh.

whining at the feeling of him pulling back, watching him through hooded eyes as he reached forward into the front seat looking for your bag. 

simply watching him as you knew what he was looking for, hearing him curse as he couldn’t find one. 

“you always have one, what happened?”

shaking your head in amusement at his question, hands reaching up to cradle his face and pulling him down into another kiss, shorter this time but still filled with the same level of need as the others. 

“last time i was here late with you, used it then”

a deep sigh pushing from his lips before they tugged up into a pout, his body pulling back from yours slightly. 

irritation painted across his face while his blond locks framed his face, his mind racing and the thoughts of just continuing this when you both got home the foremost in his mind. 

“got some at home, can finish this there”

he’d grumbled out, moving his hands to tuck himself back into his boxers before you were stopping him. 

arms going around his neck and pulling him back down into another kiss, soft and chaste. whispering softly against his lips while holding his gaze. 

“need you Jax, can’t start something and give up halfway through. besides, i’m on the pill”

the proposition has his breath catching in his throat, eyes searching yours and finding nothing but surety.  hearing a mumbled and barely audible ‘christ’ fall from his lips, before he was contemplating again. 

“we’ve never done it without one before”

but the soft and reassuring look on your face was all he needed. another kiss before pressed to your lips until he was pulling back and taking hold of his cock, pumping himself a couple of times before swiping the head of him through your folds. coating himself in your wetness before nudging himself at your entrance.

eyes flicking up to yours for permission, and getting a nod of approval. 

hands grabbing at his biceps as he pushed into your warmth, walls pulsing around him and a shaky groan falling from his lips at the feeling. 

the thing is, you and Jax had had sex many times before, but this was new. you’d never let him fuck without a condom before, didn’t want to risk anything. 

but the feeling was new, and really welcomed. 

it made you both feel closer. 

the feeling of you around him was so familiar yet so new at the same time. Jax loved being inside you, helped ease him down after a long day, but this? this was possibly his new favourite. 

“fuck feel so good darlin’,”

his groans were needier, the feeling of you around him had groan after groan leaving his lips like a fountain. 

his arms on the seat on either side of your head as he slowly started to rock his hips, each drag of his cock had your fingers digging into his arms, nails making little crescent moon indents across his skin. 

a cry of his name toppling from your lips caused his pace to pick up, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the confined space. 

“jesus, so so good”

his tone dropped an octave lower, the last word catching in his throat as you clenched down on him. 

the feeling too much, too good.

and you both felt it. 

the pool of heat in the pit of your stomach grew with each push and pull of his hips, breath hitching in your throat before mumbling out to him. 

his thrusts holding that same punishing pace he always set, your car rocking slightly with each rock he gave. 

his right arm pulling back from next to your head, his hand shaking between your body to press his thumb to your clit. drawing circles in time with his thrusts, causing you to clench down around him again. 

“shit— not gonna last long if you keep doing that baby”

the admission had a thrill of excitement running down your spine, knowing that you’re the reason he’s so close already just by letting him fuck you without a condom. 

every delicious drag of his cock against your walls kept pushing you closer, mixed with the figure eights he was drawing across your clit. your words coming out in a breathless whine. 

“Jax— close baby”

the confession had him groaning again, the pool in his belly matching the intensity of yours. his thrusts stuttering and his head dropping to your shoulder, groans muffled against your skin. 

“that’s it, fuck, cum f’me darlin’”

the soft approval had your head nodding instinctively, dominant hand holding his jaw and pulling him down into a kiss. gasping against his lips with another deep thrust before toppling over, the coil in your belly snapping and your climax hitting you with a cry of his name. 

his thrusts sloppy, working you through your release and working himself towards his own. 

the way your breath continued to hitch, moans breathless and needy spurring him on. 

“fuck baby, where? where’d you want it?”

since he buried himself inside, the question was floating around his head. 

not wanting to make any decisions on it himself, he put it off until he had verbal confirmation from you. 

“insides okay, don’t have anything to clean up with if you didn’t” 

the words had a choked out chuckle leaving him, despite the moment you were both having. 

his hips continued their sloppy thrusts against yours, chasing his climax and burying his face in against your throat. 

both arms on either side of your head again while your fingers brushed through his hair, lips pressing a softer than expected kiss to his temple. 

a muffled groan of your name toppling from his lips as his climax washed over him. the flutter of your walls around him having pushed him over. 

his cock throbbing in your warmth before spurts of cum filled you, his groans turning needy again and his body staying on top of yours. 

continuing to rake your fingers through the blond locks as his hips stilled against you, his cock remaining buried to the hilt as he basked in the aftermath of his high. 

“fuck darlin’, too good t’me”

laughing softly at his words, watching him intently as he pulled back enough to meet your gaze. big hands soothing across your thighs while he reluctantly pulled from your warmth, and another groan leaving him at the sight of his cum dribbling out of you. 

“can’t go back to fucking with a condom, y’know that? feel too good”

⋆˚࿔ reblogs are highly appreciated 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Handled.

You and Chibs have been walking the line for a little too long.

Pairing - Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Female Reader

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention.

Word Count - 1.5k ish??

Author's Note - I can only apologise for the wild gif, but I saw it and couldn't not use it. this fic is based on this request!! thank you for this message my love - it sparked so many thoughts. I made chibs a little sweeter than I meant to, oops.

Masterlist. Inbox.

The wind whips through your hair as you speed down the road, sunlight beaming down and warming you both.

You have your helmet tightly strapped on your head, a gift from the man currently in front of you on the bike. He'd grumbled as he'd given it to you, mumbling something about someone has to keep you fuckin' safe and last thing we need is an injury to your pretty face.

It's a complicated relationship you have, to say the least. You're not together. No, Chibs is still technically married to Fiona, and he's not exactly the boyfriend type. You're not sure what you want, reluctant to commit to dating a member of the club and all of the danger that comes along with it.

So, you dance the line. The two of you flirt, laughing and touching. You get close, and then you pull away. You wonder if one day, he'll just crack. He knows that if he starts something, he'll have to finish it. He's not a man who works in halves.

Chibs occasionally takes a hand off the handlebars to squeeze your thigh, a silent communication. He's asking are you okay? And you're reaching forward to squeeze his in reply, answering yeah, I am.

Your arms are wrapped around his middle, safe and secure. You can feel the taut muscles of his back and shoulders through the leather jacket that you're pressed against. You know how big he is - tall and broad and unwavering in the face of danger. He's ruthless, and it turns you on. It probably shouldn't, but it does.

The next time he reaches back to squeeze your thigh, you graze your fingernails along the muscle of his before squeezing back much further up. You feel the tension instantly, his back tightening in front of you. You smirk and hold on again, acting like nothing happened.

He's curious, now. Testing the waters. He squeezes your leg again, firmly, and you squeeze back so high that your fingertips graze his bulge. His breath hitches, and you feel it. You grin.

He pinches your thigh this time, sharply. A warning.

One that you ignore. You dance your fingertips higher, lightly stroking across the tent in his jeans, nails scraping the denim. He hums, low and dangerous, vibrations rumbling through the both of you.

You return your hands to his torso, clinging on tightly as you curve around the bends, scenery flying by. You're back at the clubhouse before you know it, the journey as quick as the blink of an eye.

You act like nothing has happened as you get off the bike. You know the two of you have just crossed a line, moving from friendship to something more. You don't want to address it. So, you hang your helmet onto the handlebars and go to walk away, in desperate need of a drink.

A strong hand grabs your wrist, spinning you back around. You collide with a hard chest, a soft oof leaving you. Chibs looks you up and down slowly, gaze raking across your body and stopping at your mouth. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip before pulling you in closer, hands snaking around your back.

"Where do you think you're goin'?"

You take a deep breath and exhale it in a shudder.

"... Inside?"

"Nuh uh," he tuts, tracing patterns across your skin absentmindedly. "You don't get to pull a stunt like that and just walk away."

You decide to play clueless, hoping it'll get you off easier.

"A stunt like what?"

He pulls you in closer again, so your bodies are pressed against each other. No space between you.

"Oh, sweetheart. This innocent act might work on other people, but it doesn't work on me. I see right through ya."

You find a shred of confidence from somewhere, determined to make him sweat a little. You enjoy getting under his skin.

"And what do you see, Filip? Hmm?"

He smirks, mischievous and knowing.

"I see a strong, independent woman, who wants - no, sorry - needs, someone to put her in her place."

You raise your eyebrows at him, so he keeps going.

"You want to be broken apart and put back together again. You enjoy pushing my buttons, trying to get a rise from me, don't you? You think it's fun. But you've got no fuckin' idea about the things I want to do to you, honey. I'm not sure you want to know."

You're panting, now, your chest heaving with anticipation.

"Tell me," you whisper. "Tell me what you want to do to me. Please."

"Please? You wanna be polite now?"

You practically pout at him, big doe eyes begging him to just give in. But Filip Telford is nothing if not stubborn. He is, in fact, the most adamant person you've ever met.

"Chibs."

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Don't be mean."

"Mean? This ain't mean, baby. You're just used to everyone being sweet to you because you're pretty."

You smile, now. That's a pleasant surprise.

"You think I'm pretty?"

He rolls his eyes at you, chuckling.

"I think you know that by now."

"It's just nice to hear you say it."

He leans forward, pressing his mouth to your ear.

"You know what? Yeah. Let's go inside."

Chibs grabs your hand and leads you with him, pulling you at a quick pace across the yard. When you reach the door, he pulls it open for you, gesturing for you to enter first. Ever the gentleman.

The clubhouse is empty, which makes a change. The minute you’re inside, you feel two hands on your hips, pushing your back into the bar.

“You really wanna know?”

His accent has got thicker, tone low and dangerous.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please. Tell me.”

“You’ll never look at me the same,” he begins, leaning down to speak right into your ear. “When you hear what I want to do to you.. the things I’ve thought about… you won’t be able to look me in the eye, sweetheart.”

You chuckle, tilting your head back to look at his face.

“I think you underestimate me a little, Chibs. Wait until you hear the things I’ve thought about in bed at night, when I can’t sleep.”

He presses a kiss into your neck, nipping at it gently. You groan at the contact, tilting your head to give him better access. One of his hands trails down your side, popping the button on your jeans with ease.

“Gonna take the edge off,” he murmurs, “and then fuck you the way you deserve when I get you home. Alright?”

You nod frantically, gripping onto his biceps to keep you upright. You rest your head against his chest, taking a deep breath to calm down.

“Chibs?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Will you kiss me?”

He smiles at you, all genuine and soft for a moment.

“Yeah, babe. I’ll kiss you. Been waiting for you to ask for a long time.”

He adds the last part quietly, as if he’s embarrassed to say it out loud. He leans down and presses his lips to yours, more tender than you were expecting. You hum in contentment, opening up to let him slip his tongue in. He tilts your head back, licking into your mouth all filthy and debauched.

One of his hands slips into the front of your jeans, tracing you over your underwear. You both groan at the action, lips still connected.

“Fuck, sweetheart. This all for me, hmm?”

You nod almost instantly, resting your head back on his chest. Chibs slips his hand under your waistband, gathering your slick before sliding a finger inside with ease.

“Knew you’d feel like this. Wet and warm and tight and fuckin’ perfect.”

You whine, winding your hips down to chase any friction he’ll give you.

“You’re filthy, darlin’. Letting me finger you in the clubhouse, huh? What if someone walks in, hmm? What if someone sees you like this?”

“Don’t care,” you choke out. “More, please.”

He chuckles darkly, slipping another finger in while rubbing at your clit in circles with his thumb. Your knees buckle, shaking as you grab onto him for dear life.

“I’ve got ya,” he’s murmuring into your ear, crooking his fingers. “I’ve always got ya.”

He speeds up his movements, leaning in to press open mouthed kisses down your neck. He nips you with his teeth occasionally, making you whine all high pitched and breathy. You know you’re gonna smell like cigarettes and gasoline for the foreseeable future.

“You’re close, aren’t ya? Can feel it, pretty girl. Give it to me.”

Chibs snakes his unoccupied hand around your back, holding you up as your legs shake. You fall over the edge, gasping into his chest as he mutters sweet nothings.

“There we go, atta girl. Good fuckin’ girl, hmm?”

You’re nodding, collapsing forwards against him. He pulls his hand from your jeans and instantly puts his fingers in his mouth, making your knees even weaker.

“Kiss me,” you whisper once again.

He obliges, softly connecting your lips. It’s gentle and careful and much more loving than you were expecting, but you’re not complaining. Not in the slightest.

“Now, darlin’. I’m gonna stick you back on that bike, take you home, and fuck you like you deserve. Okay?”

“Okay,” you grin at him, laughing when he chuckles.

You’d have to be insane to deny an offer like that.

@just-a-girl-who-wrytes