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uknowmesstuff · 2 days ago

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OMG I’m so excited to read the next part!! 😭🔥 This story has me on edge 🤣❤️I NEED to know what’s going to happen! The whole thing with Jax not knowing about their daughter is killing me (in the best way 😅) and I keep wondering when the truth will finally come out!❤️

Not Like Before Chapter Four

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 4.3k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; nurse!Reader, canon-divergence (no Abel or Thomas), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, girl dad Jax

a/n: I seriously love how excited y'all are for this series, thank you so much for all the love on it! The feedback is always appreciated! Dividers by the lovely @secretlysamcro.

series tag list: @kmc1989 @secretlysamcro @chloe-skywalker @cindsvibes @aussiefangirl95 @sjester42-blog @danzer8705 @uknowmesstuff @mmarysha @shiggynuggiez @stevie75 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @kaydallas21 @orymgraves @unholycheesesnack @livewaspsblog @leather-n-velvet @staley83 @moongirlgodness @shelbyteller @li22ie2017 @ivegotparticulartaste

Emilia skipped beside you on the sidewalk, happily bouncing along the pavement with her gray stuffed bunny tucked beneath one of her arms–Bartleby, her favorite plushie. Her little pink corduroy backpack covered in its white floral pattern hung from one of your shoulders as you walked her to preschool. Raising the tumbler filled with iced coffee to your mouth, you took a sip of the cool liquid, the coffee counteracting the warmth of the spring morning.

You’d come to enjoy your morning walks with Em to preschool over the past few weeks, and you’d noticed how much she enjoyed them, too. It was a pleasant change from the chaotic mornings you’d always had trying to get her to her old preschool back near Fresno. The mornings always used to be a crazy rush to get both of you ready and out the door, dropping her off before you had to high-tail it to the hospital in time for work.

Since today was Wednesday, it meant that you had the day off due to your weird schedule at St. Thomas. Not that it really mattered what your schedule was like anymore since this hospital had a daycare which remained open on the weekends, allowing you to leave Em there during your shifts. Your previous hospital didn’t have a daycare and had been far less accommodating with your schedule, so you often had to shell out extra money for childcare expenses besides the daycare you paid for during the week–which had already cost you a fortune. The included childcare at St. Thomas had played a massive deciding factor into why you’d moved further north to this small town, especially after how quickly they'd wanted to hire you.

And with Emilia attending preschool every weekday morning until noon, it also meant that today you could walk her to school before having a few hours to yourself–a rarity as a single mom. It was yet another reason you’d begun to like this move to Charming from the Fresno area. You were able to relax at home with Harley, or run some errands without having to tote around a four year old who continually reminded you just how boring it was to grocery shop.

Skipping ahead of you on the sidewalk by a few steps as her school came into view, Emilia turned around and began to walk backwards, Bartleby still clutched to her chest. She grinned up at you as she walked, a bright smile stretched across her face. One that now reminded you of the man you’d just reconnected with the other day.

“Are you enjoying Mrs. Herman's class, bunny?” you asked Em, trying to shift your thoughts away from her father.

Emilia nodded enthusiastically at the question, the bow in her hair bouncing at the gesture. You’d been worried that changing her preschool more than halfway through the school year would have made for a difficult transition for her, but so far she’d seemed happy with the move. And with how outgoing she was, Emilia didn’t struggle to make friends.

“Yes! I like Mrs. Herman,” she answered in her small voice. “She's nice.”

You'd come to find that yourself when you'd met her teacher. She seemed far more patient and content with her job dealing with young children than Em's previous preschool teacher did. Ms. Wells had always come across as easily frazzled and frustrated.

“Are you excited about class this morning?” you asked.

“Yes,” Em said, one of her fingers absently curling Bartleby's worn, gray ears around it. “We're gardening this week!”

You smiled back at Emilia, holding your hand out towards her for her to take. Uncurling the stuffed bunny's ear from her finger, she skipped back over towards you before slipping her small hand into yours, following you down the path that led towards Charming Elementary School. She didn't once lose an ounce of excitement the closer to the building she became–Em loved school.

“I saw that in the newsletter Mrs. Herman sent out for this week,” you told her. “You're planting some vegetables, right?”

“Yeah, and then we get to watch them grow really big!” she exclaimed.

To emphasize her point, she raised both of her hands–including the one still holding yours–high above her head in exaggeration. Your smile spread wider across your lips before you squeezed her hand in yours, the pair of you gradually approaching the entrance to the public preschool on the far end of the building. A handful of other parents and grandparents were already standing there with their preschoolers as they waited for the doors to open for drop-off.

“That’s pretty big, bunny,” you said. “You think they’ll fit in the classroom if they grow that large?”

Emilia’s brows drew tight together on her forehead, her nose scrunching up on her face as she tilted her head in thought. Biting your lip, you fought back the laugh threatening to spill out of you while you watched her genuinely consider the question.

“Probably not,” she finally decided, shaking her head.

“What do you think will happen if they get too big?” you asked her.

“I dunno,” she replied with a shrug. “Break the building, I guess.”

An amused breath fell out of you at how casually she’d said that. “Yeah?” you asked. “And what would you do with tomatoes that large?”

“Make pizza sauce, of course,” she answered easily

Humming in response to her answer, you led the pair of you over to the school before leaning your back against the brick, waiting for the doors to open for the morning preschool classes. You took a sip of your iced coffee as Emilia contentedly swung your conjoined hands back and forth between you both. A few of the other parents you’d begun to recognize from drop-off and pick-up smiled over at you, and you gave them a faint nod in greeting.

“Can we go to the garage after school?” Em asked suddenly, looking up at you. “To see the Harleys?”

You nearly choked on the sip of coffee you’d taken at her question, attempting to clear your throat while you stalled for time to think of an answer for her yet again. She unfortunately had not forgotten about the open invitation that woman had given you days ago in the hospital parking lot. Periodically throughout the week you’d had Em asking if you could take her there so she could see their bikes and watch the mechanics work on cars, and you’d had to repeatedly make up an excuse as to why you couldn’t–which had often resulted in a few meltdowns. More than once you’d mentally envisioned running that dark-haired woman over with your car for putting that thought into your daughter’s head. The fact that you’d now come to realize that Emilia’s father would be there with his bike had only made everything twenty times worse.

“No, Em,” you told her, a strained smile spreading over your face. “That’s not really a place for little kids. I told you, people work there and they’re busy. It’s not a playground.”

Confusion crossed Emilia’s face as she continued to stare up at you. “But…the nice lady invited us.”

‘Nice’ was certainly a relative term to describe her.

“Bunny,” you began, lowering down into a crouch to be at her eye-level as you spoke, “sometimes people say things like that to be polite. It doesn’t always mean that they meant what they said.”

“So…she was lying?” Emilia asked.

You sighed deeply, trying to figure out how to safely navigate this topic of conversation. Why was explaining things to a four year old so damn difficult?

“No, Em,” you told her, shaking your head. “She wasn’t lying, she was just making a polite offer. One she probably didn’t intend for us to actually follow through on. It was just to be friendly, but not really something she expected us to do.”

“But I wanted to see the bikes,” she said, her expression shifting into a pout.

You had a feeling she was on the brink of another meltdown if you didn’t find a way to get through to her. Though you figured that if Jax wanted to be in his daughter’s life, she’d be seeing plenty of bikes soon enough. Which you knew she’d absolutely love, but you couldn’t quite tell her any of that yet because he still had no idea she even existed, and you had no idea if he would even want to be in her life. It had been two days since you’d ran into him in the hospital hallway, and with no way to contact him still, you hadn’t exactly had an opportunity to talk to him about everything to even find out.

“I’m eventually going to need an oil change, bunny,” you reminded her. “And that’s the only garage in town. You’ll get to see them then, alright?”

“Promise?” she asked hopefully.

Behind you, you heard the door to the school open as one of the preschool teachers greeted the adults and kids waiting outside. You were grateful for the timing, wanting to drop this conversation with her before it led to a tantrum.

“I promise,” you told her. Opening your arms wide, you raised a brow at her. “Now can I get a hug before you go to class?”

The pout left her face before she jumped into your arms, wrapping hers around your neck. You held her for a moment before letting her go, and then you slipped her backpack off of your shoulder before sticking Bartleby inside. Afterwards, you helped her slip the straps over her small arms.

“Have a good day at school, bunny,” you told her, standing back up. “I’ll pick you up after and we can walk home and have some lunch, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, a grin on her face like the past two minutes of her disappointment had been erased. “Love you, mama!”

“I love you, too, Em,” you replied.

She darted off past you and straight towards the door, her backpack bouncing along her back with her quick steps. You stood there watching her until she’d disappeared inside the school, then you turned and started to make your way back from where you’d just come.

Unfortunately, as you began making your way down the path that led to the school from the sidewalk by the main road, the one which led in the direction towards your house, your mind returned to Jax now that Emilia wasn’t here to distract you. You really did need to find a way to get in touch with him. You couldn’t keep putting off telling him about your daughter. But what were you supposed to do? It was beginning to feel more and more as if your only choice was to show up at the Sons’ clubhouse and ask if he was around just to find a chance to talk to him alone. It didn’t seem likely that you’d magically run into him on your own in the right circumstances in order to have such a serious conversation with him.

Drawing your coffee up to your lips for a drink as you walked down the sidewalk along the main road, the morning sun gradually began to warm you a little more than it had when you’d first left your house. But as you tried to cool down and wake up with the drink you’d brought with you, you heard the approaching rumble of a motorcycle. The sound had begun to catch your attention more than usual ever since you’d run into Emilia’s father, your eyes shifting towards the street almost involuntarily. A black bike going just over the speed limit along the otherwise empty street was quickly making its way towards you. It wasn’t until the bike neared that you saw who was riding it–Jax.

Despite the sunglasses covering his face, it was unmistakably him, his blonde hair peeking out from beneath his helmet. As he neared, he’d clearly recognized you walking on the sidewalk in return. His head turned in your direction, his gaze locked on you as you continued walking and staring right back at him. He was no longer paying attention to the road ahead of himself now that he'd spotted you.

Time felt like it slowed to a crawl as you locked eyes with him. Lowering your tumbler of coffee to your side, you felt an odd jolt in your stomach at the sight of him before a flutter of nerves followed after it. Something felt like it was drawing you both together, his eyes fixed on you for only seconds but they felt like minutes, your own gaze unable to tear away from him.

Why had he remembered you? Why was he looking at you like that? And why the hell did that night have to keep replaying in your mind ever since you'd run into him?

Inevitably forced to turn his attention back to the road after he passed you, the rumble of Jax’s motorcycle gradually disappeared into the distance the further he grew down the street. Focusing back on the sidewalk ahead of yourself, you were left with that strange feeling settling in your chest.

What the hell had that just been?

Jax sat smoking a cigarette outside of the clubhouse, the afternoon sun in the sky overhead bearing down on him. As he wrapped his lips around the end of his smoke, he took another deep inhale from it as his mind drifted back to this morning. Back to when he’d seen you outside walking along the sidewalk. That weird pull you had on him–the one he couldn’t fucking explain–had made him want to turn his bike back around just to talk to you, or to offer you a ride to wherever the hell you’d been going. Anything just to have a few minutes more with you.

He didn’t understand it. How the hell could you make him feel like this? So goddamn pathetic and stupid? Jax wasn’t the sort of guy to get hung up on some girl, and he certainly wasn’t the type to let one haunt him like you’d been doing for five long years. Whatever connection you’d both had all those years ago had to have just been a one-time thing, right? Maybe further enhanced by the alcohol and the hours of sex. There was no way some girl he barely knew had this much of an effect on him.

But the way he’d felt when he’d seen you in that hospital hallway the other day felt very goddamn real. He swore his heart had stopped beating for a minute the second he’d locked eyes on you, unable to believe that he’d just stumbled on you again after all of this time. What the hell were the odds of that? He’d been telling himself for years that he needed to let that night with you go, that it was just a fun night he’d had once and nothing more. But then there you fucking were, appearing in his life unexpectedly like some outside force had put you back in his path again on purpose.

You’d smelled the same as he remembered. That florally citrus scent of yours had made his head spin when he’d been talking to you in that hallway. It had been almost impossible for him to focus on the conversation when memories of you clinging to him, panting in his ear as he fucked you, kept resurfacing in his mind just because of how you smelled. He wondered if you’d still taste like vanilla if he got his mouth on yours again, or if you yourself tasted as good as he remembered.

In the time since he’d unexpectedly ran into you again, he’d admittedly thought about you quite a bit. Mostly about finding a way to get you back into his bed, wanting to bury himself between your thighs in more than one way. Would fucking you one more time get you out of his head? Was that all he needed to do here? Maybe he just needed to prove to himself that there wasn’t anything special about you, that you were just some girl like all the others he'd had. Maybe he’d been misremembering the connection he’d felt that night–but goddamn had he felt something the other day when he’d seen you.

Someone clapping Jax roughly on the shoulder broke him straight out of his thoughts as he pulled the cigarette from between his lips. Jax glanced up from his place atop one of the picnic tables, catching Opie’s eye as he came to a stop beside the table. Opie gestured at him to scoot over, so Jax slid along the worn tabletop and made room for him. Hopping up beside him, Opie pulled a cigarette out of his own pack before sliding it between his lips and lighting it.

“Look lost in thought over here,” Opie said around the smoke. “Thinking about club shit or your dream girl?”

Jax rolled his eyes at the comment, instantly regretting that he’d ever opened up to Opie about you the other week. He’d managed to go the last two days without him bringing you up, and he’d thought he was in the clear with that, but apparently he was wrong. Opie was just biding his time before he did what Jax had been expecting him to–mentioning how he’d unexpectedly run into you in the hospital.

“She ain’t my dream girl, asshole,” Jax snapped.

“Ahh,” Opie replied, grinning as he expelled a cloud of smoke. He was used to Jax’s snippy attitude, the look on his face making it apparent that he’d expected it. “So you were thinking about her.”

Looking over his shoulder at Opie, Jax’s eyes narrowed into an annoyed glare. “Not what I fuckin’ said, man.”

Opie shrugged as he raised the cigarette back up to his lips. “Not really denying it, either,” he pointed out.

Shaking his head, Jax quietly took another drag from his cigarette as he sat beside Opie, the sounds of Teller-Morrow’s busy garage drifting along on the warm breeze. He wondered if it was possible that he might get away with not having a discussion about you, but he also knew Opie. He knew his best friend wasn’t going to just let this slide, especially not after what Jax had told him about you before he’d known that you were here in Charming. It didn’t help that Opie had seen the look on Jax’s face when he’d spotted you at St. Thomas–there was no hiding that he’d had a reaction.

“Must’ve been a pretty big shock when you saw her the other day,” Opie began carefully, his gaze fixed straight ahead on the garage. “Never thought you’d see her again and then boom. Suddenly she’s right fucking there.”

Jax didn’t respond as he flicked some ash off the end of his cigarette. He wouldn’t admit it to Opie, but he’d first thought he’d lost his damn mind and had finally started hallucinating you for a minute until you didn’t just vanish into thin air on him. And when you’d spoken, confirming you were indeed that girl from his past, for the briefest moment he’d wondered what the hell he’d done to deserve that kind of luck for you to just reappear in his life again. Because he certainly didn’t think he’d done anything to warrant that sort of good fortune.

Seeing you had come as more than just a shock–it had felt like some sort of goddamn sign. He just wasn't entirely sure for what.

“She say how long she’s been here for?” Opie pressed when Jax didn’t answer.

Expelling a long, frustrated sigh, Jax glanced over his shoulder at his friend beside him. The look Opie returned clearly told Jax that he wasn’t about to just brush over this like it didn’t happen. He knew he’d have to give him something if he wanted Opie to stop pushing with his questions.

“Few weeks,” Jax told him. “I didn’t really talk to her for long, okay? I don’t know much.”

“But you wanna talk to her again,” Opie said, arching a brow back at Jax. “Don’t you?”

Yeah, he absolutely fucking did. He’d thought about it nonstop since he’d run into you, kicking himself mentally for not having asked for your number or something more than just getting your name. There was no realistic way for him to reach out to you, and he highly doubted you’d ever just show up at one of the clubhouse parties.

“Course I do,” Jax muttered.

Jax drew the cigarette back to his lips, taking another drag on it as he felt his frustration rising. As if he could read his thoughts, Opie continued.

“But you got no way to reach out to her,” he stated, his attention shifting away from Jax and down to his own cigarette. “Short of making a prospect tail her home from the hospital to find out where she lives and showing up on her doorstep, which I don’t advise, you’ve only got one option.”

With his brows furrowing together on his forehead, Jax focused on Opie beside him as he blew the trail of smoke from between his lips. Was Opie trying to tell him to do what he thought he was? Because even though Jax had considered it himself, he knew how pathetic and desperate it would look for him to actually go through with it.

“And what’s that?” Jax asked.

The corner of Opie’s lips curled up into a smile as he met Jax’s stare again. “Go back to the hospital, dumbass,” he replied. “You know she works there. You’re bound to run into her on a shift during the day. Just pull her aside for a minute, ask for her number.”

“Fuck no,” Jax spat, pulling a face at the thought. “We’re not in some goddamn chick flick, Ope. I’m not gonna go there and try to track her down just to get her number.”

Opie shrugged nonchalantly in response, that grin still on his face. “Then I guess you’ll just have to leave it to chance, brother,” he told him. “And hope that you get the opportunity again.”

Jax frowned at the idea of that. How long until he ran into you again in a situation in which he could actually talk to you? Days? Weeks? Months? He knew it shouldn’t even matter to him because it wasn’t like the clubhouse didn’t have its own fair share of pussy to go around. Who cared if he ran into you again or not? But you’d been steadily eating away at his goddamn mind for the past two days, making him feel like he was going insane. He didn’t know if he could go weeks or months just hoping for his chance to see you again.

“Go there and fucking do what, man?” he asked.

“Shit, I don’t know,” Opie said with a chuckle, stretching his feet out on the bench of the picnic table. “Thought you were the one who was supposed to be smooth with the girls, Jax. Get her fucking number. Ask her out.”

“Ask her out?” Jax repeated skeptically, his eyes narrowing at him. “You want me to ask her out on a fucking date?”

“I don’t care what you do,” Opie answered, pointing his cigarette at Jax. “But it’s clear she’s not just some damn hookup for you, brother. You think fucking her again is gonna get her out of your head finally? Because the way you’re acting,” he continued, his expression entirely serious, “makes it seem like she might be there for another ten years if you do. And now here she is–” he said, gesturing his cigarette in the direction of the hospital from where they were at Teller-Morrow, “–right goddamn there. Within reach. So maybe pull your head outta your fucking ass and accept the fact that you might actually like a girl for once, Jax.”

Sitting there on the top of the picnic table, his cigarette hanging from between his lips, he let Opie’s words settle over him. He couldn’t really deny it, could he? There’d been something unexplainable there five years ago with you, something that had never left him. Maybe it was still there and maybe it wasn’t, but what the fuck would he ever know if he didn’t just suck it up and do something about it?

“Fine,” he relented, the cigarette still between his lips. “But I’m pretending I went there for another reason. Not gonna fuckin’ show up like it’s just for her.”

Opie huffed out a breath, shaking his head as his grin returned. “Girls love that romantic bullshit, Jax,” he replied.

“I picked her up at a bar for a fuck,” Jax countered sharply. “Slipped out on her when she was asleep. Nothin’ romantic about that.”

Opie held Jax’s stare, that grin still stretched over his mouth. “You spent five years thinking about her, man,” he pointed out. “Sounds like some cheesy, chick flick bullshit to me.”

Jax pushed himself up from off the picnic table, turning around to crush his cigarette out in the ashtray beside Opie with a scoff. He was regretting ever telling him about you with all of the bullshit he knew he’d be dealing with now.

“Shut the fuck up and go check in with Bobby, asshole,” Jax ordered. “We’ve got some important shit to actually deal with right now.”

Opie opened his mouth to say something more, but Jax raised a finger and shot him a look.

“Don’t even fucking say it,” he warned him. “We’ve got other things to focus on.”

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uknowmesstuff · 2 days ago

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In loveee with this😍😭

I Need You More 1:| Unexpected Savior

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 4.4k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; mutual pining, canon-typical violence, brief depiction of near underage sexual assault, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: Despite being the quiet, studious girl in Jax Teller’s class, you’d had a crush on him since the sixth grade. When he rescues you at seventeen, that only cements your feelings for him–though you’re complete opposites and he’s dating Tara. Eight years later, you return to Charming after your aunt passes, and the once shy, studious girl catches Jax’s attention. But when that attention nearly kills you, Jax can’t help but blame himself.

a/n: This first one is a 'flashback', so Jax and Reader are teens. Please heed the warnings, there is a brief depiction of a near sexual assault in this part. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

series tag list: @kmc1989 @chloe-skywalker @secretlysamcro

The occasional rumble of a car in the distance cut through the buzzing hum of the street lights overhead. With your head ducked and your backpack slung over one shoulder, you walked alone through downtown Charming on your way back home.

You'd had a project that you'd needed to finish for history class at one of your friends’ houses tonight. The whole thing had taken far longer than either of you had anticipated–especially because you’d both gone a little overboard on the research–when you'd eventually realized the time. By then, Dani’s mom had already ordered pizza and invited you to stay for a late dinner, and when you'd both finally finished eating and talking about Dani's upcoming date this weekend, it had grown even later and you'd really needed to head home.

Since you didn't live far from Dani, you decided to walk home afterwards like you’d initially planned, politely declining the ride your friend had offered to give you, not wanting to inconvenience her. Besides, walking to and from each other's houses was something you were used to doing, something you both had done for years even if it wasn't something you had ever done quite so late. But considering you only lived about fifteen minutes from each other, and Charming was generally a safe little town, it wasn’t exactly a big deal.

Or so you'd thought.

Most of the people in Charming were at home by this point, meaning the streets and sidewalks were empty until your walk had taken you through downtown. Further down on the opposite side of the street, you could hear the drunken conversations drifting towards you from a few men who were smoking outside one of the bars. Their voices carried towards you on the faint evening breeze, their obvious intoxication setting you on edge as your hand tightened around the strap of your backpack.

Keeping your head ducked down, you hadn’t wanted to draw any unwanted attention your way. Because what would a group of drunk men want with a seventeen year old girl, anyway? They were probably too focused on whatever they were talking about to notice you across the street.

And you had believed that until one of those drunk voices called loudly over to you when you'd gotten closer, the man’s words slurring together.

“Hey, pretty girl!”

At the sound of the booming voice, your feet began to move even faster along the pavement, your pulse quickening at having been noticed. Maybe if you didn’t respond and just kept moving he'd leave you alone. If you ignored him, he wouldn't continue to bother you, he'd just lose interest, right?

“Where you runnin’ off to in such a hurry, baby?”

The sound of pavement crunching under heavy footsteps caught your attention, your head finally raising and turning over your shoulder. A larger, middle-aged man was crossing the street straight towards you. Even with the alcohol in his system, swaying on his feet with each step he took, he was moving far quicker than you’d have liked. Behind him, the men he’d been smoking with had already turned their attention away from you both, not remotely concerned about what was happening behind them. That only had your fear spiking before you tore your gaze away from the guy, nerves twisting in your gut.

“Don’t be rude, girl! I’m talking to you!”

With your blood pumping adrenaline through your veins like ice water, you could feel the hair on your neck prickle in fear. Biting your lip, your eyes darted ahead of you as you contemplated just bolting the rest of the way home to get away from him. But you wondered if running would just make him more aggressive, or if he’d somehow surprise you with how fast he could run while inebriated and chase after you. Unfortunately by the time you’d decided on doing it anyway, you hadn’t realized the man had already half-ran, half-stumbled his way over towards you until his large hand had wrapped around your bicep. A surprised gasp fell out of you at his strong grip on your arm just before he roughly shoved you into the brick wall of the closed barber shop you’d been passing.

Back slamming into the solid brick, you felt the wind knocked straight out of you. The stranger's other hand grabbed onto your shoulder, both of them now trapping you in place against the building behind you. He leaned in closer, the scent of liquor heavy on his breath as you tried to recoil from him, pressing yourself tighter against the wall. But there was nowhere for you to go, and even as drunk as he was, the guy was far stronger than you. Despite that, you continued to frantically struggle against his hold even if it seemed completely useless.

“Can't ignore me now, can you?” he mocked.

“Get off of me!” you shot back.

He'd caught the tremble in your voice when you'd shouted, his glazed and bloodshot eyes staring at you while a slow grin formed along his lips, just beneath the thick dark mustache. With the way your stomach was churning, you felt the pizza you'd just eaten threatening to come back up. The heavy scent of alcohol on his already horrid breath wasn't helping the nausea or your panic.

“I just wanna talk,” he slurred. “Makin’ it so damn hard.”

“I don't want to talk!” you grit out, heart pounding as you continued to fight his hold. “Let me go!”

“Don't be like that,” he snapped.

Quickly realizing that talking some sense into him wasn't going to do anything, you resorted to the next option.

“Help!” you shrieked, your panicked cry bouncing off the buildings downtown and echoing through the night. “Someone, help–”

The moment his inebriated mind caught up to the fact that you were screaming, the man had released your shoulder before roughly slapping his hand over your mouth. Your screaming grew muffled beneath his palm as the man's face contorted into a look of rage and frustration.

“Shut the hell up!” he growled. “Just wanna talk. Goddamn makin’ all that noise.”

Tears were stinging at your eyes as he held you against the side of the building, his dirty gaze running over your body. He made an appreciative noise in his throat as he eyed you, the sound making your skin crawl. Your eyes darted over his shoulder and behind him, desperately searching for one of the smokers by the bar to help. But the men who'd been outside were heading back inside the bar now, the sight making your stomach drop.

Eyes closing, a soft whimper fell out of you, the sound muffled behind the man's large hand. You were alone with this drunk out here. Unless a police cruiser decided to make its way through main street, you were on your own.

“Prettier up close,” he mumbled.

Still pressing you into the brick building with his hand over your mouth, his other one finally released your arm. The tips of his fingers brushed along your temple in something that might have been tender to someone in a different circumstance, but the touch only had your eyes tightening further shut. Bile was beginning to make its way up your throat, the urge to vomit increasing.

“Hey!”

Your heart nearly stopped at the sound of another voice nearby, hope filling your chest at the sharpness in their tone. Eyes snapping open, you attempted to see who'd interrupted the man, but you couldn't turn your head with how he was holding it against the barber shop behind you.

“Get the fuck off her, dipshit!”

Even in the situation you were in, it was impossible not to notice how familiar that voice sounded. You could have sworn that it was Jax Teller, the guy you'd had a crush on since the sixth grade, ever since he'd sat next to you in English and quietly muttered about the incorrect interpretations of the assigned reading from your other classmates during discussions. You'd realized then that he was far smarter than he ever let others believe. But you hadn't seen him in about a year, not since he and his friend Opie had dropped out of Charming High School to pursue the local motorcycle club his father had formed instead.

“Got nothin’ to do with you, kid,” the drunk yelled back. “Piss off.”

The sound of heavy footsteps thudding along the pavement met your ears, the noise matching the rapid pounding of your heart against your ribcage. Seconds later, the large man was forcefully shoved off of you, stumbling back a few steps as his hands fell away from where they'd been holding you against the building. Pushing off the brick in a panic, you took a few terrified steps backwards and watched as the man nearly lost his footing before your eyes darted over to see who'd come to your rescue.

It was in fact Jax Teller. His face was twisted into something furious, something dangerous, his eyes remaining fixed on the drunk. His long blonde hair was tucked beneath that familiar black Sons baseball hat, and he was wearing one of those leather kuttes over his t-shirt, though his kutte was missing that reaper symbol all of the other men in the club had on theirs. Instead, the word ‘prospect’ was the only patch on the back of his leather.

“You're a sick, stupid fuck,” Jax snarled at the guy, gesturing a hand in your direction. “She's seventeen! And clearly not fuckin’ consenting!”

Both of your hands gripped the strap of your backpack tighter as you stood there, once more not knowing whether you should run or not right now. But when the drunk opened his mouth and made a vulgar comment about you to Jax, you audibly gasped when Jax immediately lurched forward and slammed his fist straight into the guy's face with a solid crunch. Standing there wide eyed, you watched the man stumble and fall down to the sidewalk before laying completely immobile.

“Goddamn piece of shit,” Jax growled at the man's unconscious body.

Jax’s foot gave the man a sharp kick to the ribs before he bent over, spitting right on the guy’s cheek. Standing there wide-eyed, your nails dug into the fabric of your backpack strap when Jax finally turned around towards you. When he saw you practically cowering on the sidewalk, his expression instantly softened from the rough, dangerous one that had been there a moment ago. He held his hands up to show you that he meant you no harm, but it wasn't him that you'd been afraid of, it was the knocked out asshole who'd been about to do something awful to you.

“Hey, relax,” Jax said, his voice dropping to a soothing tone. “Not gonna hurt you, okay?”

“I–I know,” you managed out, still trying to recover from the entire situation. As if it somehow meant something, you blurted, “We used to have classes together.”

One corner of his lips curled upwards into something like a small smile, the anger in his eyes fading to a surprising warmth. “Yeah, we did,” he agreed with a nod.

He said your name and your breath caught in your throat in complete surprise. How the hell did he remember you? You and Jax didn't run in the same group–not even close. You’d probably only said a handful of sentences to him in your entire life since you’d known him. You were usually the girl with your nose buried in a book, making sure you finished your assignments on time, never missing a class, always taking meticulous notes. The one who had a small circle of friends and never ventured outside of it.

The one who’d always had a crush on Jackson Teller but knew nothing would ever happen because you weren’t his type. Not that you were anyone’s type because you’d never had a boyfriend or a date in this small town.

And Jax? He’d been with Tara Knowles since he was sixteen, shortly before he’d dropped out of high school. You always overheard stories about the pair of them getting arrested for drunken disorderly conduct or petty theft. They always seemed to get out of whatever trouble they’d gotten into though since Jax’s step-father was close with Unser, the chief of police. But his type of girl was bold and loud–everything Tara was. She was known to be territorial and a petty bitch to anyone she thought was interested in Jax, getting into fights just to keep girls from even looking in his direction.

You and Tara were nothing alike.

“Didn’t know you knew who I was,” you muttered awkwardly.

“Course I know who you are,” he said, still smiling at you as the street lights overhead cast a warm, orange glow over him. “I remember you always sitting at your desk reading a book. Swear you had a new one every damn week. Wondered how the fuck someone could read so damn much.”

“I…just like to read,” you replied quietly with a shrug.

Your eyes drifted past Jax, focusing on the drunk still lying unconscious on the sidewalk behind him. Your expression fell, your body involuntarily shrinking in on itself at what had almost just happened to you. Jax’s eyes followed yours, turning to look over his shoulder behind him. The smile gradually faded from his lips before he looked back over at you again.

“You good, sweetheart?” he asked softly.

Eyes still fixed on the unconscious drunk, you slowly nodded. “Yeah, he didn't…”

Your words trailed off, the meaning left hanging in the air. He hadn't done anything, but only because you'd been fortunate enough that Jax had shown up when he did. That he'd done something.

“C’mon,” he said solemnly, gesturing his head behind him. “Lemme walk you to where you were goin’.”

Attention darting over to Jax at his offer, you opened your mouth to vehemently decline it, but no words came out. With your adrenaline still pumping through your veins, you couldn't deny how close you’d just come to being assaulted tonight, and you really didn't want to be alone after that.

“I…yeah, thank you,” you accepted.

Beginning down the sidewalk again, you gave the unconscious man a wide berth as you walked past him. Jax easily fell in step beside you, as if he’d walked you home countless times in the past. The scent of cigarette smoke and some sort of body spray wafted towards you on the late night breeze, and you wondered if he’d been out with Tara. Or maybe he'd been on his way to go see her when he'd run into you.

A silence settled over the pair of you as you walked, the buzzing hum of the street lights fading into the distance the farther away you both grew from downtown Charming. Jax remained quiet, an impossible to read expression on his face as he kept his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. Gnawing on your bottom lip nervously, you didn’t really know what to say, either. Not after what had just happened, and definitely not with the huge crush you had on him that he had no idea about.

“You shouldn’t be walkin’ around this late at night alone,” he finally said, breaking the long silence between you both. “Not exactly safe.”

“I didn’t think it’d be a big deal,” you explained, gaze focused on the sidewalk. “I wasn’t going far.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his head turn towards you. He studied you silently, your blood rushing through your veins for a different reason now. Though it was ridiculous to feel anything about his attention on you because Jax Teller would never give you a second look. You were the boring, quiet, good girl.

“Why’re you even out so late, darlin’?” he questioned.

Attempting to ignore the stupid way your stomach had nervously flipped at him calling you ‘darlin’’ in that drawl of his, you shrugged a shoulder. “Needed to finish a class project,” you answered. “It took longer than I thought. Figured it’d still be okay to walk home after.”

A soft huff fell out of Jax as he continued to walk in step next to you. Braving a glance over at him, you caught the small grin on his face just before he looked over at you, his eyes catching yours. Immediately you turned your head, eyes focusing back on the pavement in the dark as you neared your street. A heat crept up your neck at the weight of his attention on you, something you'd never experienced before. Suddenly you felt hyper-aware of everything you were doing and just how close his shoulder was to yours.

“Figures you'd be out late for a school project,” he teased, sounding amused. “Guess I shouldn’t have expected to hear you say you'd been out at a party or somethin’.”

Your tongue darted out between your lips at his teasing. This was the longest you'd ever spoken to him before, and you were completely alone with him. Yet somehow his presence made you feel safe after what had almost happened, even if he was putting you on edge for other reasons now.

“Always were the smart girl in class,” Jax added.

Teeth sinking into your bottom lip again, your heart ached painfully at the comment. So he remembered you as the nerdy girl who was always reading. The one too lame to be out late for anything other than schoolwork. Because that was the kind of girl Jax Teller would want to spend his time with.

If only you didn’t have this stupid little crush on him. After he'd dropped out to join that motorcycle club, it had at least gotten easier to deal with it. You hadn't had to see him every single day in classes and the hallways, always secretly hoping he’d glance over in your direction just once. But after tonight? After he’d quite literally come to your rescue and walked you home afterwards? You’d probably never get over him now.

Which only caused that ache in your chest to grow at the thought. Because you would always be the lame smart girl coming home from working on a school project late at night. Jax would never look at you and see a fun, outgoing girl like Tara. Someone who he could get drunk with and do the things he did to her that you wished he’d do to you.

“Seem quieter than usual,” Jax pointed out, breaking through your thoughts. “You sure you're good?”

Hugging your arms across your chest, you shrugged a shoulder at his question. Further ahead, you could see your house coming into view at the end of the street. You simultaneously felt relieved and upset at the sight of it. You were thankful you’d made it home safe after what had almost happened downtown, and you were glad that soon you could get out of this interaction that was making you feel a strange combination of things. But disappointment also crept into you, knowing that this would be your one and only interaction with the guy you’d secretly pined after for years. And it was coming to an abrupt end. You’d likely never speak to him again.

“Not exactly great,” you muttered. “But I'll be fine.”

“Hey,” Jax said, his hand landing on your shoulder. “That guy was just a drunk piece of shit, alright? Pretty sure he won’t be doing nothin’ like that again with how hard I hit him. He’s definitely gonna remember it when he wakes up.”

The warmth of his palm seeping through the thin material of your shirt had goosebumps prickling along your forearms. With how he was looking at you as you both neared your house–with something that was both serious and almost compassionate–it only had you wanting to turn and pull him into a hug, burying your face against his chest in search of comfort. You wanted to let out the tears you knew would come once you got home and back to your room alone.

But you couldn’t do that. Not only would he hate having some random girl crying on him, he’d think you were weird as shit on top of being a nerd and a loser. And if Tara ever heard about you touching him like that? She’d probably give you hell at school for what was left of the year.

Still chewing on your bottom lip nervously, you nodded at what he said, quietly accepting his words because there really wasn't anything else to do. You weren't going to call up Unser and press charges against that guy just to have all of Charming gossiping about you. Nothing more had happened in the end besides some drunk scaring you.

When you reached your house, you came to a stop at the bottom of your driveway, Jax’s hand falling away from your shoulder as he stopped along with you. He jutted his chin up the drive towards the small house, his eyes still fixed on you.

“This you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you answered, still hugging your arms across your chest.

Nerves knotted in your stomach as you stood there with him in the dark, awkwardly shifting your weight back and forth on your feet. Both of you were silent, your teeth still gnawing anxiously on your lip. You knew this was your last chance to talk to him, to properly thank him for what he just did, so you forced yourself to get the words out.

“Thanks for making sure I made it home. And for–” you broke off, your eyes darting down to your shoes, unable to look him in the eye while you said the rest. “For not ignoring what was going on like everyone else.”

“Don’t gotta thank me, darlin’,” Jax murmured, his soft voice making your heart beat a little faster, especially at that pet name again. “Would never have ignored that. Just promise me somethin’, yeah?”

Swallowing hard, your gaze slowly slid back up from your shoes to meet his again. The corner of his lips twitched, as if there was something he wanted to get out, too. But it looked like he was struggling to say whatever was on his mind, and that had your brows drawing faintly together in curiosity and confusion. Jax had always been loud in school. He’d never had a hard time saying what was on his mind, even if it landed him in trouble.

“What?” you lightly prompted.

A light turned on in your house, the brightness of it flooding your driveway and illuminating the pair of you. Jax’s eyes drifted up towards it behind you, his lips pressed together. You would no doubt get an earful about having a Son walk you home this late at night now–as if he’d been the one to do something wrong tonight instead of the opposite.

Jax’s attention returned to you a second later, no longer looking as if he had that something more to say now that the moment had been interrupted. You felt your heart sink, wondering what he had almost said that you'd now never know.

“Don’t go walking home alone at night anymore, yeah?” he asked. “Not safe for a girl like you.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, nodding. You had no intention of doing that again. “I won't.”

You knew Jax was about to leave now, and you also knew that you needed to get inside before you got yourself further into trouble. But as you stood there staring at his expressive blue eyes, you found yourself moving without thinking.

Taking a step towards him, you leaned in and lightly pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. His blonde scruff felt rough against your lips as they lingered briefly against him, the scent of his body spray and something else mixed in with the cigarette smoke hitting you hard. It was a scent you'd remember for a long time after tonight.

Eyes growing wide in realization of what you'd just done, you abruptly pulled back and stepped away from him, quickly putting space between you both. Jax stood there at the end of your driveway, a surprised look on his own face like he couldn’t believe you'd just done that, either. But when a slow smirk gradually drew a corner of his lips upwards, your heart nearly flew into your throat.

“Thank you,” you awkwardly blurted.

Turning on the spot, you hurried up your driveway and towards the front door as you tried to get away from the situation you'd just made incredibly weird. If Tara ever heard about this, she'd absolutely have it out for you. She would make certain the last few weeks of senior year would become a nightmare for you before you left for college in a few months, so you hoped Jax didn’t mention it to her.

Despite the mental chastising currently occurring in your head with how stupid you'd just been, you couldn't help but pause when you reached your front door and opened it. Looking back over your shoulder one last time, you found Jax still standing at the end of your driveway, casually lighting up a cigarette as if he was waiting to make sure you'd made it all the way inside before he left. Like his job walking you home wasn't quite finished until then.

Taking a drag off his cigarette, he pocketed his lighter in his jeans before he looked back up at you. When your eyes met, you swore you felt something shift in the air between you both. That same something that had been there a minute ago when he'd been about to say whatever he hadn't gotten out returned. But then you heard your name sternly called from the kitchen and you forced your attention off of Jax before stepping inside and shutting the door after yourself, braced for the incoming scolding.

A heavy weight settled in your chest that night. You knew you’d probably never see Jax again. It wasn’t like you and him were fated to have any other interactions with how different you both were and the completely different directions your lives were taking you. Especially since you'd be leaving California soon for university.

Some day Jax Teller would become a distant memory just like you were certain you already were to him.

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uknowmesstuff · 6 days ago

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I seriously can't wait for the next part – so excited to see what happens next!❤️

Letters from the Outside 5:| Feeling Trapped

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.4k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

warnings/tags: 18+; prison!Jax, bit of sunshine/grumpy dynamic, prison pen pals, fluff, angst, mentions of violence, potential smut, canon-divergence, Reader has a brother, mainly short pieces about Jax and Reader's letter correspondence

a/n: Meant to update this last week but I got a little busy. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

series tag list: @kmc1989 @callmesev @secretlysamcro @steviebbboi @anonymouse1807 @bonnyclydecat @chloe-skywalker @kaydallas21 @sarraa-26 @uknowmesstuff @mmarysha @orymgraves @daryldixonpls @death-in-a-tar0t-card @danzer8705 @bruher

Jax couldn’t stop pacing this morning. Back and forth from wall to bunk, his strides were deliberate and sharp. There wasn't anything useful that he could do instead while he was stuck in this tiny goddamn cell. So he kept pacing, kept moving because he couldn't just sit and do nothing, his body and his mind restless.

And fuck was he pissed.

Running his hands through his hair in frustration, Lowen’s words from her unexpected visit this morning kept repeating through Jax’s mind. After she’d relayed the message from the club that a shipment from the Irish had been intercepted and stolen last night right from the Sons, he’d felt even more trapped here than he had in months. Because someone was targeting his goddamn club and he wasn’t capable of going out and doing a single fucking thing about it. All he could do was pace back and forth, snarling out curses to himself in this little fucking box and desperately wishing he could put a bullet in the head of whoever had fucked with his club.

He’d been wracking his mind since he’d gotten back to his cell after that meeting, trying to figure out who the fuck would’ve ambushed the guys and taken that shipment. As far as Jax had been aware, everything had been straightened out between the Sons and the Niners and Mayans before he’d been thrown in here to do his time. Not even Lin or the Aryan Brotherhood and its affiliates were looking at the Sons right now for a single damn thing. There hadn’t been any beef with any other clubs or gangs when he’d been arrested–shit had been quiet for the moment.

But fuck, he could just imagine how pissed the Irish would be if Bobby and Chibs couldn’t find the missing hardware or figure out some way to handle this mess. That shipment had a buyer already. A buyer that wouldn’t sit idly by accepting an apology from the Sons–and neither would the IRA.

And that had been thousands of dollars that had been stolen straight from them. Money that the Sons desperately needed for the more legitimate businesses that Jax was trying to shift the club’s focus over towards. Money that they couldn’t afford to just lose out on, not if they were trying to get out of all of this bullshit.

An enraged growl rumbled in Jax’s chest as he made another pass beside his bed before his eyes landed on the envelope still sitting in the middle of his mattress. It was laying exactly where he’d left it earlier. With everything that had happened this morning, he’d forgotten all about the letter he’d received from you today. He hadn’t even had a chance to read it yet because he’d been pulled out of his cell for that meeting with Lowen shortly after it had been delivered.

He stood there staring at your handwriting on the front of the envelope, his teeth grinding back and forth in his fury. Jax could practically hear your irritatingly cheerful voice that he’d been imagining in his head whenever he re-read your letters. You’d probably written him some stupid bullshit again about your simple little happy life with your dog. Probably spent your week planting your flowers and reading stupid romance novels after work. Enjoying your freedom and your lack of fucking problems.

With a frustrated grunt, he crossed the small distance and sat down on his bed, snatching the letter from beside him. Sticking his fingers inside the already opened envelope, he pulled out the familiar off-white paper that was folded neatly into thirds. For some reason the sight of the perfect, crisp folds just pissed him off further. So did your tidy handwriting filling the page when he'd unfolded it. And when he saw the letter had once again begun with that fucking idiotic name you'd given him? His eyes narrowed at the paper as if he could somehow make you feel his rage through it.

Grumpy Grizzly,

I hope you're doing well today.

“Do you?” he said, already snapping at the letter in his hands. “You don't fuckin’ know me, sweetheart. And if you did, you sure as shit would be hoping I rot in here. Don't think you'd be giving me any of your goddamn well wishes.”

Jax's jaw ticked as he glared at the greeting on the page. The urge to tear it into shreds surfaced in his mind, his grip tightening on the paper as it crinkled beneath his fingers. Not certain why, his eyes continued on, reading your next few lines of neat handwriting.

In your last letter you mentioned you miss your Harley. So are you some kind of biker then? Or just a Harley lover?

Jax scoffed in irritation, briefly lowering the paper to his lap. Why the fuck was he even reading this right now? It's not like anything you were going to say in this damn letter was going to quell the anger and restlessness he felt. He had an actual situation going on, one he admittedly couldn't do a goddamn thing about while he was stuck in here, but one that was still serious. So why the fuck was he even bothering to try and read this stupid fucking thing?

“And here I am,” he bitterly spat, glaring down at the paper in his hands, “stuck on this shitty bed reading your bullshit for a distraction. Bet you get some sorta sick satisfaction outta that, huh? Knowing some poor fuck is stuck here readin’ your stupid thoughts cause they don't have anything else to do? That really why you write to me, Giggles?”

Gritting his teeth as he stared down at the letter, his knee began bouncing in agitation as he sat there. You were so fucking oblivious. Your life was not the same as his. Everything was probably fucking brunch and shopping trips in your world, meanwhile Jax couldn’t give two fucks about any of that. He held the lives of people he cared about in his hands. If he made one wrong move, one bad call, he’d be getting someone killed. And that would be all his fault.

And right now, he was worried about whoever the fuck had taken the Sons’ gun shipment. Because with him, Opie, and Tig in Stockton, SAMCRO was down a few members. The last thing his club needed was the Irish on their asses, or their buyer pissed off for not receiving their product, or whoever this unknown rival fucking was hitting up his men again and actually drawing blood. And what they really didn’t need was all fucking three of those at once.

Despite the fact that he’d barely read a few lines of your letter, Jax abruptly crumpled it up in his fist. Squeezing the paper into a tight ball, he felt a surge of satisfaction flood him. Then he chucked the stupid fucking letter across his small cell, watching as the paper bounced off the wall and landed with a soft noise on the cement floor.

“That’s what I fuckin’ think of you and your stupid fuckin’ bullshit garbage you keep writing me,” he taunted the letter. “Think you’re some kinda fuckin’ saint, don’t you? For writing inmates? Well fuck you.”

Jax didn’t give a shit about how ridiculous he probably looked in his cell right now yelling at a crumpled up piece of paper on the floor. He wasn’t going to read your goddamn letter, he’d just scribble something on a page and mail it back to you solely to keep himself in that damn program. Because now he really needed to get the fuck out of Stockton and back to Charming. His club needed their president.

Jax had gone on with the rest of his day afterwards, meeting Opie and Tig in the cafeteria at lunchtime. He'd filled them in on the situation that Lowen had told him about earlier, sparing none of the details she'd been able to relay. Neither of the guys had any damn clue about what could have happened or who could've been behind the ambush, but the three of them had planned to gather whatever intel they could find about it while they were stuck in prison. It wasn't like there wasn't a wealth of knowledge and gossip in here, even if information always came with a cost.

It wasn't until hours later, just before lights out, that Jax found himself laying back in his bed staring at that crumpled up ball of paper on the floor where he’d left it the whole day. He’d told himself he didn’t care about what you’d written him, told himself it didn’t fucking matter. But now that his rage had slightly subsided as the day had progressed, and he'd made a plan to look into who might’ve been behind the situation, he found himself growing curious about the pointless bullshit you'd probably written. It wasn’t as if he had any other form of entertainment right now.

Sighing in resignation, Jax sat up in his bed before tossing his legs over the side and making his way across the small space. He bent over and snatched up the ball of paper from the floor before heading back to his bed and laying down on the stiff mattress again, attempting to get comfortable. Slowly, Jax began to uncrumple the once neat and tidy letter as the strangest feeling of guilt hit him–like he’d somehow destroyed something he shouldn’t have. Which was fucking stupid as hell because it was just a fucking letter, what did it matter if he'd crumpled it up, torn it to shreds, or used it for toilet paper?

Grumpy Grizzly,

I hope you're doing well today. In your last letter you mentioned you miss your Harley. So are you some kind of biker then? Or just a Harley lover? I’ve never personally owned a bike myself, but growing up around my brother and his friends? I’ve been on the back of one plenty of times now. I get the draw of them. There's a freedom in riding on one that you don't find anywhere else. I’m guessing you’re one to speed on your bike though, aren’t you? You seem like you’d ride well past the speed limit.

“Tryin’ to relate to me now, Giggles?” he grumbled at the page, eyeing it skeptically. “Think that’s gonna make me like you somehow?”

I get the feeling you’re the type to always ride with a group, too. Am I right? But have you ever just gotten onto your bike and disappeared somewhere for a bit? Just by yourself? Because every time I’ve ridden with one of my friends, that’s what I’ve always wanted to do. Granted, like I said I don’t have a bike myself, but if I did, I’d probably be fucking off to nowhere a lot.

“Feel free to do that now,” he muttered bitterly. “Don’t know why the fuck you’re tellin’ me this shit. I’d love it if you fucked off to nowhere. Maybe you’d stop writing me these stupid fuckin’ things.”

Anyway, I’m sure you don’t give a shit about what I’d do if I had a bike. And, at the risk of you considering this too personal of a question, I’m curious to know what kind of Harley you ride? My brother claims it says a lot about a person. I don't really see how that matters. It's just a damn bike isn't it? But why do I get the feeling your response to me asking what bike you ride is probably going to be met with some rather colorful expletives?

“Because I ain’t tellin’ you shit about myself,” he snapped at the letter.

Though as he reread that paragraph, he couldn’t help but to internally admit that he agreed with your brother. He certainly judged a man based on what bike he rode. Sounded like your brother did the same.

Your short responses are giving me the impression that you’re still not into this whole pen pal program, so I’m not going to sit and write too much in this letter. I can imagine how much that’d annoy you, but then I suppose you just wouldn’t sit and read it, right? I’m…actually pretty surprised you’ve read this far if you have.

“Yeah, you and me both, sweetheart,” he grumbled.

But if you have read this far, and since you humored me in my last request, I'm going to try and push my luck by asking one more question. I'm guessing lots of horrible, violent, and boring shit happens in Stockton all day every day, but what about something funny? There ever anything funny that happens? I imagine you're often focused on the bad shit, but is there ever anything besides that in your days? I'd be curious to hear about it.

As usual, your letter ended abruptly with your first name. Jax's eyes slid back up, re-reading your last paragraph. What a strange request. He was in prison and you were asking him to tell you some funny story? Was he some fucking comedian to you now? Or were you trying to therapize him by making him focus on the good around himself instead of all of the awful shit?

With a shake of his head and a harsh scoff, Jax half-heartedly folded up the crumpled letter in his hands, feeling that strange guilt at how ruined the letter now looked after what he'd done to it. Rolling onto his side, he lifted his mattress up with one hand before slipping the page underneath it, placing it with the other letters he had from you. Then he fixed his mattress and laid back down, catching the warning from a passing guard that it was almost lights out.

Attempting to get comfortable, Jax rolled over and faced the dirty cement wall before closing his eyes. He could still feel his mind racing with thoughts about the shit with the club and the stolen gun shipment, but beneath all of that quietly burning anger, he felt a single question simmering in his mind.

Maybe he would do more than just scribble on some paper and send it back to you. Maybe he'd demand an answer to the growing question he had for you, the one that had been steadily getting louder in his mind each time he reread one of your letters. And somehow, he figured your response to that question would tell him something. He didn't fucking know what exactly, but something.

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uknowmesstuff · 12 days ago

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Bonus:

That swagger.

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uknowmesstuff · 18 days ago

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Comfortable Here in the Chaos 5:| Make Them Jealous

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!friends with benefits!Reader Word Count: 3.8k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; smut, friends with benefits, public fingering, Jax's filthy mouth

Summary: Jax discovers just how much you enjoy making Ima and the croweaters jealous.

a/n: Another naughty update for this smutty series! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated! Divider by the lovely @secretlysamcro.

series tag list: @kmc1989 @steviebbboi @bear-ink @secretlysamcro @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @bonnyclydecat @nutellajade @aria725 @f1samcro @kaydallas21

The air was filled with the heavy scent of smoke and a strong mixture of alcohol, weed, cheap perfume, and sweat. After the countless parties you'd attended at the clubhouse, you'd long since grown familiar with the way the smell lingered on your clothes and your skin the next day, a persistent reminder of what you'd done the night before.

Drawing the beer bottle up to your lips, you took a deep pull off of it from your place in Jax’s lap. He’d pulled you down to sit there almost an hour ago and you’d become comfortable on top of him ever since. With your lower back resting along the worn armrest of the couch behind you while your ass and thighs were settled on his lap, every once and a while you’d intentionally shift, just because you liked hearing the quiet groans that slipped out of his mouth whenever your plush ass brushed over him through his jeans.

Jax had one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from falling off of him while also keeping you close. His other hand had settled on your thigh, his fingers lightly massaging the muscle just beneath the hem of your dress that had ridden up while you’d both been talking. Since it had been another hot day in Charming, you'd thrown on one of your sundresses just to survive the poorly air-conditioned office at Teller-Morrow earlier today, and you'd intentionally remained dressed in it later when Jax had asked you to come out for a few drinks with him at the clubhouse.

“Careful there, sweetheart,” he playfully warned, his eyes focused on your lips as you drank down the beer. “You’re starting to sound a little buzzed.”

Swallowing down the alcohol, you lowered the bottle back to your lap while shaking your head at him. Normally he was the one teasing you, but you’d been shamelessly teasing him tonight. You had a feeling it wouldn’t end well for you–or rather it would, but your teasing generally made him relentless in his ‘payback.’ Just like a few weeks ago, after you’d sent him all of those naughty texts the night you’d been out with your friends. The following afternoon when you’d gotten back to Charming, he’d shown up at your place and thoroughly repaid you for how you’d left him that night.

“I'm not buzzed,” you disagreed. “I'm just enjoying myself.”

A low, rumbling chuckle vibrated in his chest, the movement slightly shaking your body in his lap. A smile spread over your lips, the bit of alcohol in your system loosening you even further. You quite liked sitting here right out in the open for everyone to see. Particularly Ima, who was currently by the bar looking as if she might be trying to curse you and your entire family with the way she was shooting you dirty looks from across the room.

She didn't like you. She’d made that painfully clear whenever she’d had a chance to corner you away from Jax–because she damn well knew she’d get his wrath if she said one wrong thing to your face in front of him. But truthfully, none of the croweaters or Redwoody girls liked you. Their moods visibly shifted whenever they saw you walk into the clubhouse, their eyes tracking you as scowls and glares became permanent fixtures on their faces for the night. Because if you were here, it was a known fact that Jax was going to be completely focused on you and only you.

And fuck if you didn’t love that.

You’d never actually said anything about how much you enjoyed it to Jax before, assuming he might read too much into it and think you liked him or something. But their disdain and jealousy while he paid attention to just you felt like its own form of foreplay. You had what they wanted and could never actually get, and you damn well enjoyed flaunting it in front of them any chance you could. Maybe they’d had his dick a few times, but they never had his actual attention and interest the way you did. Jax would never allow one of those girls to sit in his lap as they leisurely drank a beer, and they sure as hell weren’t capable of making him laugh. They’d never be the ones sitting here with his hand kneading at their thighs while he whispered things into their ears.

Because this was something Jax only ever did with you.

“As long as you’re enjoying yourself, baby,” he said, a cheeky grin on his face. “Cause you know how much I make it a priority to keep you satisfied.”

A coy little grin slipped onto your own face in return as you picked up on the clear meaning behind his words. You leaned in towards him until your lips were beside his ear, your eyes catching Ima’s from across the room as you did. If someone’s stare alone could kill, you’d have dropped dead right then–and yet that only further added to the heat of the moment.

“Oh is that right?” you whispered into his ear, your lips grazing the shell of it as you spoke. You felt his hand tighten on your thigh instantly. “You make my satisfaction your priority, Jackson?”

Pulling away just a bit, you caught the faint shift in his expression as the lighthearted playfulness vanished. He knew you were playing with him tonight, and you wondered how long you’d be able to get away with it.

“Baby, you’re the only girl I care about being completely satisfied,” he told you, his hand on your thigh slipping just a bit higher beneath the hem of your dress before he squeezed the flesh again. “Think I take my time with any of the other girls here?”

One of your brows slowly arched onto your forehead at what he’d just implied. He didn’t take his time pleasuring any of them when he took them to his room? Were you really the only one he fucked that he actually gave a shit about whether they were enjoying themselves or not?

God, if that didn’t go straight to your pussy.

“Jackson Teller,” you said, purring his name in a way that had his blunt nails biting into your inner thigh. “Are you telling me you don’t make it a priority to make sure they’ve gotten off?”

He shook his head, shamelessly holding your gaze. “Darlin’,” he began, looking at you like you were ridiculous for even asking, “do you really think I give a shit if any one of them comes? Especially when they get passed around here more than a goddamn joint? They know why they're here, baby. It ain’t for us to be making sure they’re having mind blowing orgasms. They got a singular purpose and they fuckin’ know it. But you?”

He leaned back into the couch, his tongue slowly rolling out between his lips, the movement catching your attention as you followed its path. His blue eyes scanned you over as you sat in his lap, one corner of his mouth tugging up into a devilish smirk. A smirk that had you shifting in his lap unintentionally this time while it sent a shiver through you.

“Baby, I would take as long as I goddamn needed just to hear you crying those pretty sounds on your back for me,” he told you, that dark, lust-filled gaze meeting yours again. “Cause you’re mine. I don’t share you with anyone else. And this–” his hand abruptly slid up your inner thigh until the pads of his middle and ring finger lightly traced over your heat through the slightly damp fabric of your thong, “–is my fuckin’ pussy to take care of, babe. And I take that seriously.”

“What’s got you so wet already, sweetheart?” he asked, his words a low rasp in your ear. “Cause all we’ve been doing is sitting here talkin’ and drinkin’. But here you are with these–” his finger gave a sharp tug on your panties, “–already getting soaked.”

His fingers continued to just barely drag back and forth along your clothed pussy beneath your dress despite the fact that you were both in the middle of the crowded clubhouse. The devilish smirk on his face grew as he touched you, clearly noticing how affected you were by him right now. Hooking his index finger around your thong, he toyed with the fabric as he leaned in towards you.

His nose brushed against your temple as his finger released the bit of fabric. Instead, his index finger gently ran through your folds beneath your panties, taking his time feeling just how aroused you were. Your eyelids fluttered at how absolutely wrong it was for him to be touching you like this out in the open, but you could also see the way Ima and a few of the other croweaters were watching you both on the couch. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the jealous glares even more when they realized that Jax was touching you right now in the middle of everything going on.

With his finger still languidly gliding back and forth between your damp folds, Jax’s head shifted a little. It took you a moment to realize he was following your gaze through the clubhouse, noticing what you were looking at. Catching onto the look on Ima’s pissed off face, you felt his lips draw into a smile against your cheek.

“You like that, don’t you?” he murmured into your ear. “Making them jealous. Is that what’s got you so turned on, baby? Is my filthy office girl a little exhibitionist, too?”

A low, barely audible moan escaped from your lips. You weren’t remotely immune to the sound of Jax’s voice, and hearing him whisper such dirty things straight into your ear as his finger focused on gently circling your clit easily had you growing weak. You were practically melting into his lap as he touched you.

A pleased hum vibrated in Jax’s throat at the noise you’d made, his mouth still beside your ear. His finger added just a bit more pressure as he touched you, and your hips jolted in his lap in response. That earned a particularly disgusted sneer from Ima, but even though she turned her head away, you caught her glancing back. The ghost of a smirk spread over your lips as you held her stare.

“You want them to watch us, don’t you?” he whispered. “Tell me the truth, sweetheart. You like making them jealous. It gets you hot, doesn't it?”

“They don't get to have you like this,” you replied, shifting your attention from Ima to Jax. “Do they?”

Jax’s thumb took over for his index finger, the pad of it still tracing delicious patterns over your clit that had your breath coming in sharper. The tips of his middle and ring finger moved to tease your entrance, a distinct bulge beginning to form beneath your ass in Jax’s jeans. This was turning him on, too.

“No, darlin’,” he murmured. “Only you.”

His two fingers sunk into you up to the first knuckle before they stopped. Your bottom lip rolled back between your teeth as you bit back a gasp. Letting Jax finger you on the couch in the middle of a Sons’ party was either a horrible idea, or a really, really good one.

“Jax,” you hissed out softly.

A low, throaty laugh fell out of him before he buried his face against the side of your neck. The hairs of his beard lightly scratched your skin, the sensation only adding to what his fingers were doing beneath your dress.

“You want me to stop?” he asked. “Or do you wanna come on my lap for all those girls to see?”

His fingers slid back out from inside of you, his thumb pausing its ministrations along that sensitive little bundle of nerves. You whined immediately at the abrupt lack of stimulation, the noise drowned out to anyone other than you and Jax by the sounds of the party. Jax chuckled at your reaction, but he didn’t continue.

“Use your words,” he teased you, pulling his face away from your neck so he could look at you. “Am I stopping, or do you want Ima over there to watch me fuck you so good with my fingers that you're coming on them?”

Breath still a bit short, you tried to focus on the question. Both of you could easily take this back to his room at the clubhouse and have some semblance of privacy–assuming you weren't too loud. You wouldn't have to worry about anyone seeing a thing, or about trying to be discreet.

But where would be the fun in that? Especially after what Jax had just confessed to you. Ima might have fucked Jax a few times–something she loved to shove in your face–but he'd never actually made her pleasure his priority. He'd never just gotten her off like this and gotten turned on by it. And now you had the opportunity to show her exactly how much she didn't actually have him.

“Don't stop,” you whispered.

A soft, breathy laugh came from Jax before a smirk spread over his lips. His thumb resumed its movements first, the sensation causing a faint whimper to slip out of you.

“Such a naughty girl, baby,” he teased, a glint in his eyes.

“Spending too much time with you,” you whispered back.

He snorted in amusement, but before you could say more, his two fingers fully sunk into you beneath your dress. Gritting your teeth, you trapped a moan behind your lips, the noise sounding like a muffled, rumbling purr instead.

“Oh, darlin’,” Jax drawled, his eyes on you. “Never heard that one before. I wanna hear more of that.”

His two fingers began to pump in and out of you so damn slow, the gradual drag of them in and out causing your hips to shift in his lap. His thumb continued its attention on your clit, making it impossible to remain still with the way he was making you feel. But when he leaned in towards you again, his mouth beside your ear and his warm breath cascading down the side of your neck, you thought you'd die of pleasure.

“Better be quiet though, baby,” he murmured softly, noticing how you’d been struggling, biting down on your lip to keep the sounds of your pleasure from spilling out. “Too loud and the guys'll figure out what's goin’ on. Or do you want them to watch, too?”

“That’s not–”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence because his fingers curled inside of you just right and your breath hitched, the words breaking on a sharp inhale. Increasing his pace, you felt his fingers continuing to occasionally curl and hit that exact place that had your mind going blank. You'd already forgotten what he'd said seconds after he'd said it.

“That’s not what?” he mocked quietly, eyes still on your face, watching you try to contain yourself on his lap. “You gonna leave me hanging, darlin’? That's not what you want? You just wanna make the girls jealous because they're not the ones sitting in my lap?”

Teeth sinking into your bottom lip so hard to hold back the whines falling quietly out of you, you thought you'd taste blood soon. But you nodded in response to his question, your pussy tightening around his fingers at the way those girls were clearly trying not to watch, the envy clear on each of their faces.

“You like being my girl for the night?” he teased.

Goddamn did you ever.

But apparently he'd been expecting a verbal response, his fingers abruptly thrusting harshly into you when he didn't get it. Your lip fell out from between your teeth and a soft groan followed right after.

“That a yes, sweetheart?” he pushed, a smirk on his lips. “C'mon, use your words.”

“Yes,” you gasped. “Fuck, Jax.”

“That comes next, baby,” he said, shooting you a cheeky wink. “First you gotta come on my fingers. And you look like you're getting close, aren't you?”

Feeling half in a daze from the pleasure he was giving you so out in the open, you nodded your head. Your breaths were coming in trembling pants the more his fingers continued to work you beneath your dress, making you his right there for all the girls in the clubhouse to see. Like he didn't fucking care that they were watching what he was doing to you. As if he didn’t care that they saw what he'd never do for them. And you were very quickly getting off on it.

“That's my girl,” he murmured. “C'mere.”

The arm around your waist, the one that had been holding you in his lap, drew you into his chest. Despite the obscene and vulgar things he was doing to you in the middle of the party, the gesture felt oddly sweet as he held you close. Without even thinking, you buried your face right against his neck, his skin helping to muffle the moans sneaking out of you. The hand not squeezing the neck of your beer bottle gripped onto his shoulder, your nails sinking into the leather of his kutte as you held onto him.

His two thick fingers continued to pump into you while you sat in his lap like this, draped over him and trying to hide the sounds of your impending release against his throat. His mouth was beside your left ear with you positioned like this, each of his warm exhales ghosting over it and down your neck, causing goosebumps to raise over your skin.

Every little sensation was drawing you straight over the edge right now. Too far gone to think, your hips slowly started to rock into his hand, the movement almost involuntary. A soft groan came from Jax right into your ear as your ass ground back and forth against his noticeably growing bulge beneath you while you moved.

“That’s it,” Jax praised quietly, feeling your pussy grip around him again. “Fuck my fingers, baby.”

His words were only pushing you further over the edge, feeling like you were completely surrounded by Jax–his voice, his hot breath on the side of your neck, the scent of his skin in your nose where it was buried against his throat, the muscle of his broad shoulder beneath your hand.

Rocking your hips back into his hand in a subtle movement along his lap, you felt your climax building and building, that surge of pleasure in your gut like a roiling fire. Until he thrust his fingers into you just as his thumb pressed down onto your clit, and it felt like wildfire had lit you up from the inside out as you abruptly came around him.

“There it is,” Jax murmured smugly into your ear.

Your hips stuttered and stilled on his lap, his two fingers drawing you through your release and the aftershocks following them. To keep from crying out, your teeth had bit his neck, and the resounding growl he'd emitted had your back arching and your eyes rolling back behind closed lids.

It was another moment before his fingers gradually slowed to a stop. Your teeth released the skin you'd bitten in your attempt to remain silent, your breath coming in harsh as Jax’s fingers slipped out of you. He readjusted your thong beneath your dress, though the fabric was soaked now.

“Kinda surprised you're that into making the girls jealous, darlin’,” he teased, removing his hand from under your dress. “Gonna remember it gets you that fucking worked up.”

Forehead lightly resting against his jaw, your eyelids weakly fluttered shut as you recovered in his lap. You tried to calm your racing heart, your hand still firmly gripping his shoulder, when you heard a wet noise beside your ear before it was followed by a low, throaty hum from Jax. Drawing away from him, you were met with the sight of Jax sliding the fingers that he'd just had inside of you from between his lips. He smirked at you before the hand fell back on your lap, patting your thigh affectionately twice.

“Couldn't let it go to waste, darlin’,” he husked. “And I'm guessing Ima saw that, didn't she?”

Still trying to even out your breaths, your eyes shifted over his shoulder. At the bar behind him, Ima was in fact shooting you both the absolute darkest look you'd ever seen her make. A breathy laugh bubbled out of you before you focused back on Jax, who looked entirely unphased at the prospect of pissing her off.

“Yeah,” you answered.

“Good,” he replied, patting your thigh again. “Now how about we go back to my room and you stop holding my favorite sounds back? Wanna see you ride my cock in this little thing.”

His hand on your thigh balled a bit of the fabric of your sundress in his grasp, sharply pulling on it. A flash of heat hit you at the image his words had evoked.

“Give me a second,” you told him. “I need a second to recover, Jax.”

The corner of his lips curled up into a devious smirk. “What's that, babe?” he questioned. “You want me to throw you over my shoulder?”

“What–”

Unable to finish the thought, Jax had removed the beer from your hand and set it aside before shifting you in his lap. Before you realized what was happening, he'd tossed you over his shoulder before he rose from the couch, a surprised gasp slipping out of you. Jax started making his way towards the hallway at the back of the clubhouse which led to the rooms, one hand lazily coming down on your ass in a light smack.

“Sure as shit don't do this with ‘em either, darlin’,” he called over to you.

The giggle that followed his words as a pleased thrill ran up your spine had him smacking your ass again. As he continued carrying you down the hall towards his room, you briefly wondered what made Jax act so differently with you in particular. Why did he always come back to you over and over again? Why did he do things with you that he would never do with any of the other girls?

But the thoughts didn't last long when he'd brought you into his room, throwing you down onto his bed before he turned and locked the door. And you stopped thinking the second he'd started undressing.

194 notes · View notes

uknowmesstuff · 18 days ago

Text

I’m sooo excited for the next part when she’s going to tell Jax about his daughter, wooow❤️

Not Like Before Chapter Three

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 4.5k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; nurse!Reader, canon-divergence (no Abel or Thomas), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, girl dad Jax

a/n: I've had this series stuck in my head and I'm curious to see the reactions y'all have to these next few chapters! I've been binge writing them... Feedback is always appreciated! Dividers by the lovely @secretlysamcro.

Standing beside the hospital bed, you found yourself in a stare down with the last patient on your rounds for today. The rhythmic beeping of his heart monitor repeatedly broke through the silence of his room as he held your stare with his own. Placing one hand on your hip, you absolutely refused to back down from this standoff.

You raised the chocolate pudding cup in front of yourself, watching Chibs’ attention switch from you to the dessert in your hand. “We had a deal for this past week, Chibs,” you reminded him, shaking the pudding cup to emphasize your point. “That's the only way this works.”

“Bit more like a bribe, sweetheart,” he countered, his eyes narrowing as he met your gaze again. “And what's a few ounces of water even matter? I'm gettin’ discharged this afternoon.”

“Well, until then,” you began, turning around and setting the pudding cup down onto his bedside table, just out of his reach, “you're still my patient. In my care. And we–” you turned back towards him, crossing your arms over your chest and fitting him with the same stare you used on Em, “–had a deal. Drink your water if you want the extra pudding cup.”

Chibs frowned back at you, but you didn't ease up on the stern expression and the Mom Stare you'd long since perfected. You'd done this dance far more times than you could count with a four year old who's brain wasn't nearly as developed enough to comprehend logic and reasoning, especially when she really wanted something. So Chibs? He was nothing in comparison to your stubborn and hard-headed girl. He broke far easier than Em would have for his damn extra pudding cups.

After another few beeps from his heart monitor marked the passing time, he finally folded. Releasing a sigh, his shoulders dropped before he reluctantly reached a hand out. Grinning triumphantly, you grabbed the large jug of ice water he'd been avoiding drinking and placed it into his awaiting hand.

“Swear ya must be a witch,” he muttered.

Biting your lip, you fought down your laughter as you switched your focus to filling out his medical chart for the last time. Admittedly, you were going to miss seeing him on your rounds since he was getting discharged this afternoon. He was the last patient on your schedule for today, meaning this would be your last visit with him. Over this past week that he'd been here, he'd brightened your days at this small hospital far more than your other patients–like Mrs. Trenton down in room 245. She spent most of her time telling you how her eldest son was the devil because he wouldn't sneak her food into the hospital that went against her dietary restrictions.

“Not a witch,” you assured him, focused on filling out his chart, your head bowed over the clipboard. “Just have a lot of experience with getting my stubborn daughter to listen to me.”

Chibs swallowed his water, lowering the jug to his lap as he eyed you curiously. As your pen continued to scratch across the paper, you could see him watching you from his bed out of the corner of your eye. He'd told you he had a daughter the other day as well. Though he'd never elaborated on it further, and the somber look in his eyes when he'd mentioned her kept you from asking any questions.

“She get that from her mother?” he asked curiously. “That stubborn streak you're always talkin’ about?”

Grinning, you shook your head as you continued working on his chart. “No, not from me. I'm not nearly as hard-headed as she is,” you told him, a fondness in your words as you spoke about her. “Probably gets it from her father.”

When you realized what you'd said, you fell quiet, the grin gradually falling off your face as you continued writing down a few notes on the chart. Emilia’s father was a difficult topic for you. It wasn't as if you wanted people to know that you'd hooked up with a stranger for one night and the encounter had resulted in your daughter because people were judgemental.

Even if that night with him had been beyond incredible–and one of the last times you'd really had sex, or at least great sex. You'd obviously not been with anyone during the time you'd been pregnant with Emilia, and at the time, that had been the furthest thing from your mind. After Emilia was born, you had attempted to date, but the moment you mentioned your little girl, the dates always ceased.

Eventually, you'd resorted to having one time flings, getting a sitter for Em so that you could have a few hours to be something other than mom for a while. But those nights only further proved how unique that first night had been with Em's father–because you were quick to discover flings did not go like they had that night. They were quick, unsatisfying, and boring, so you’d given up years ago. It had always just been you and Em ever since she’d come into your life.

“Never seem to want to talk about her father,” Chibs pointed out. “Why is that?”

“I never really knew him,” you stated softly, still focused on the clipboard.

Judging by the quiet hum he made in response, you knew he understood what you hadn’t actually said. Em had been a surprise, fathered by a stranger. You figured if anyone in this town wouldn't judge you, Chibs was probably one of them.

“Ahh, I see,” he replied. “At least he wasn't some deadbeat prick that needed his arse kicked. Though I woulda been happy to do that for ya.”

Lowering your pen to the paper, you turned and looked over at Chibs, a small smile creeping over your face. “Can't say most of my patients repeatedly offer to beat up men for me,” you teased lightly. “I'll definitely miss having you around here.”

“So ya do like me,” he shot back with a chuckle. “I knew it, sweetheart. Can't really resist my charms.”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully before grabbing your clipboard from the counter. Chibs lifted the jug of water from his lap, taking a few deep drinks through the straw. As he drank, you turned and grabbed the bedside table, wheeling it closer to him so he could reach the pudding cup.

“Enjoy your last stolen pudding cup,” you told him. “But you should really drink more water when you're out of here.”

Chibs was quick to set his water down and grab the dessert, a soft laugh falling out of you as he tore into it. You didn't know the rest of the guys in his motorcycle club, but he seemed harmless enough. You still didn't understand why the other nurses here were so against caring for him, acting like they thought he’d shoot them for taking his blood pressure or administering some pain medication.

“Be honest with ya, sweetheart,” he said, already scooping up some pudding with a spoon, “that ain't gonna happen.”

“Could have at least lied to me,” you pointed out with a grin, beginning to walk towards the hospital room door. You could hear loud voices coming from down the hall just outside of it, but you kept your focus on Chibs. “I hope I don't see you injured back in here, but I will miss your awful jokes brightening my days. Take care of yourself, alright?”

“Aye,” he said with a nod. “You as well, sweetheart.”

You gave him one last goodbye before turning and opening the door of his room, stepping into the hall where the unmistakable noise of his friends was impossible to ignore. Glancing over towards the right, you saw a group of Sons making their way towards Chibs’ room. You had been about to turn away from the loud bikers and continue down the hall, needing to change out of your scrubs and go pick up Emilia from preschool, but then your eyes caught onto a set of blue ones.

He froze and so did you.

Hugging your clipboard against your chest, your breath died in your throat as the rowdy group continued their way towards Chibs’ room. None of the others seemed to notice the strange way you’d gone entirely immobile just staring at the blonde who was staring back at you. Maybe it was partly due to the fact that the hospital staff here always treated them differently, but you didn't give it much more thought. You were too distracted by how the blonde had reacted to you, just standing there staring at you with wide, surprised eyes that probably mirrored your own.

As the others continued obliviously into the room you'd just exited, one guy with a thick, dark beard and a neck tattoo hung behind when he finally realized his group was a man down. Returning to his side, he nudged an arm against the blonde whose face was quickly resurfacing in your mind from so long ago. The taller man leaned over, asking him something you couldn’t quite hear. The blonde nodded before his friend glanced over at you for a moment, a curious look in his eyes before he turned and joined the other Sons in Chibs’ hospital room.

Then you were left standing alone in the hallway with him, your heart violently pounding in your chest as you stared at the man you had no doubt was your daughter’s father. The man who had absolutely no idea he had a child with you. And considering he didn't know that, it only made his strange reaction to you incredibly confusing and unusual. He seemed to have recognized you just as quickly himself even though it'd been five years since you’d spent those few hours together, something you were certain he'd done countless times with other women since then.

Why did he recognize you? How could he possibly have remembered you?

He took a few cautious steps towards you in his pristine Nikes like he wasn’t entirely certain if he should. Squeezing your clipboard tighter to your chest, you still felt as if you couldn’t breathe. You were carrying a secret he had no idea about. A massive, life-changing one. While years ago you’d initially wanted to find some way to tell him when you’d discovered you were pregnant, now you had absolutely no idea what to say. You were entirely unprepared for this encounter. You’d known he’d been in some sort of motorcycle club back then, but you hadn’t ever thought that it could be the one here where you’d just moved.

The silence felt suffocating the longer it stretched on in the otherwise empty hallway, your nerves steadily rising as his eyes scanned over your face in disbelief. You didn’t know what to even say, but you knew that you couldn’t just blurt out the truth to him. That wasn’t something you just dropped on somebody five years later the second you saw them. But while your mind was racing with thoughts about having found your daughter’s father unexpectedly all these years later, you had no idea what the hell was running through his mind with the way he kept staring at you.

“You’re…” he began, that odd look still on his face. “You’re the girl from Fresno.”

Palms beginning to sweat against the clipboard you were holding in a death grip, a strained smile tugged at your lips. “I guess? I mean I used to live there,” you told him. “I uh, moved. Recently.” Your eyes darted towards Chibs’ room where the Sons were currently still making raucous conversation inside despite being down a man. “Obviously,” you added awkwardly, focusing back on him.

A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips at your answer, like he’d been surprised but pleased to hear it. “So you remember who I am?” he asked.

How the hell would you ever be able to forget him? That night had been easily the best sex you’d ever had and probably would ever have. But besides that, he’d given you your daughter. The one thing you loved above anything in the world. Of course you hadn’t entirely forgotten him, you’d just never expected to ever meet him again.

“Yeah,” you answered. “You look a bit different now, but I’m pretty sure there’s only one biker who’d have a reason to recognize me. Though I’m…truthfully kind of surprised you even remember me.”

He bit his lip, fighting back the growing smile as he took a few steps closer towards you, closing some of the distance between you both in the hallway. Your feet remained rooted to the floor as he stopped a short distance from you. Unable to resist, your eyes began to scan him over in return.

He’d changed from the memory you had of him all those years ago. The long, shaggy hair had been replaced with a different style, something slicked back and neater. His facial hair wasn’t nearly as unkempt and outgrown, but he still had that blonde beard on his handsome face–a face which had only grown more attractive over the years. He’d matured from the young man you’d taken home with you back then to the broad, muscular man standing in front of you now. But he still carried that dangerous aura which oddly drew you in instead of away.

“Couldn’t forget you, if I’m being honest,” he admitted.

He still had that smooth voice of his, too. You remembered how it had once murmured such dirty things into your ears, but even now it could still make your pulse quicken.

“That was a damn good night,” he added.

Clearing your throat, you felt goosebumps prickle along your forearms at the comment. A ‘damn good night’ seemed like a vast understatement to the way you’d both been so completely tangled up in each other for hours.

“Yeah, it was definitely something,” you agreed quietly.

The smile lingered on his lips as something hid behind his pretty blue eyes. But the longer you held his stare trying to make sense of it, the more you began to realize that Emilia’s eyes were the same shape as his, and that smile he was wearing looked incredibly familiar, too. She’d inherited more than you’d realized from her father.

“Honestly, darlin’, I never thought I’d run into you again,” he confessed with a shake of his head. “But now you live in Charming?”

You nodded, the nerves in your stomach growing under the weight of his gaze. Five years ago, you'd had a completely different reaction to his undivided attention than you were having now.

“Just moved here about three weeks ago,” you replied.

Still hugging the clipboard tight to your chest, you could feel the erratic thudding of your heart beneath it. While part of you wanted to stay and talk to him–admittedly you could feel that familiar attraction and the strange draw towards him even years later–you knew you really couldn’t. Besides the fact that you needed to pick up your daughter from preschool, you were also struggling not to just blurt out the words ‘you got me pregnant’ the longer you stood here with him.

But you knew dropping that on him out of nowhere would not be the best way to disclose the news to him. Which was apparently now something you needed to figure out how the hell to even go about doing, but a run-in with him for the first time in years didn’t seem like the best time. Especially when you really needed to get going and didn’t have time to sit here and answer the questions he might have.

Running a hand over his mouth, he nodded his head at your answer. With the way he was acting, it seemed like he wasn’t ready to let this conversation just end. He hadn’t excused himself to go into Chibs’ hospital room with the other Sons, lingering in the hall like he'd rather be out here with you. Which only had you growing curious about why that was.

“You move out here with a boyfriend or somethin’?” he questioned next.

Lips parting in surprise at the blunt, bold question, both of your brows rose up onto your forehead. The man chuckled at the look on your face while you contemplated the audacity of him asking about your relationship status so quickly and easily.

“Just wondering. Don't know if I gotta worry about some guy tryin’ to start shit with me for having history with you,” he told you, shrugging his shoulders in faux innocence. “Just wanna make sure I’m not kicking someone’s ass that I probably shouldn’t, y’know?”

Somehow you had a feeling he wouldn't mind kicking anyone's ass.

“No, I uh, definitely didn’t move here with anyone like that,” you answered him.

You’d been about to add on that you’d moved here with your daughter, but the words got stuck in your throat. Tongue feeling like it had turned to lead, you couldn’t get the words out. Because if you told him about your daughter, you felt like you needed to tell him the full truth. And you'd already established that it didn't feel like the time and place.

“So no guys I gotta be lookin’ out for, huh?” he teased, unaware of your internal conflict.

It felt like there was something else in his words, a flirtatious undertone. While you’d love to have a repeat of that night–sans another pregnancy–you couldn’t just sleep with him now. The dynamic between you two was going to get messy and strange once you finally did tell him the truth. If he didn’t want to be in Emilia’s life, you couldn’t possibly imagine letting him sleep with you again. But if he did want to be, well, that further complicated matters when it came to possibly co-parenting with him in the future.

“Not at the moment, no,” you told him.

You caught the way his head tilted to the side and his smile grew wider before your attention shifted to the clock hanging on the wall in the hallway. You needed to get out of the hospital and go pick up Emilia from preschool before you were late. As if he’d figured out where your thoughts were, you saw his smile had dimmed when you focused back on him.

“Gotta go?” he asked, sounding a bit disappointed.

“I’m actually off my shift now,” you told him, gesturing your thumb down the hallway behind you. “I was on my way to change out of my scrubs and…I needed to make an appointment.”

The lie felt uncomfortable and wrong as it fell out of you, but what else were you supposed to say? If you mentioned a daughter now, you knew you’d feel even worse lying to his face by not telling him that the daughter you were picking up wasn’t just yours.

“Don’t let me hold you up then, darlin’,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you around town now that you live here.”

“Yeah, I'm sure,” you replied awkwardly.

Biting your lip nervously, you ignored the weird sensation in your gut as you took a step away from him, the feeling begging you to just spill absolutely everything to him. Instead, you released the clipboard with one hand and gave him a brief wave before you turned around, beginning to head in the opposite direction down the hall.

“Wait!”

You’d only managed to take a handful of steps before he’d called out after you. Stopping at the sound of his voice, you looked over your shoulder at him behind you. He was smiling again, and that hint of something in his eyes had returned, the sight of it making your heart skip. Even after all this time, he still had that same effect on you.

“Can I get a name this time?” he called after you. “To finally go with the pretty face?”

Unable to help yourself, a small smile spread over your lips. He was still far too smooth for his own good and dammit if it still didn't work for you, too. You called back to him, giving him your name and watching some unknown emotion flicker across his face.

“You have a name?” you questioned in return.

“Jackson,” he told you, already beginning to walk backwards towards the door to Chibs’ hospital room with something in his step. “But I go by Jax, darlin’.”

And there you finally had it. Emilia’s father’s name. Five years after the fact.

“Was good running into you,” he said, his grin growing a bit cocky as his hand pressed down on the handle of the hospital door, pushing it open. “Be seein’ you.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I'm sure you will.”

But not for whatever reason he was probably expecting.

Sitting on the couch in your living room, you barely paid attention to the show that was playing on your television. You were sitting on your couch with your legs tucked up beside you, trying to relax before bed this evening. Harley, your pitbull mix, stretched his legs out on the cushion beside you, raising his large, gray head as his mouth opened wide in a yawn. Afterwards, he lazily dropped his head onto your thigh, dark eyes staring up at you. Glancing down at him, his tired eyes met yours before one of your hands absently landed on his head and began to pet him.

Your surprise encounter earlier with Jax at the hospital had been on your mind for the rest of the day. It had been near impossible to focus on what Emilia had been telling you about her morning at preschool–and anything else she’d been going on about the rest of the day–because your thoughts kept drifting back to him. You had not expected to run into him in Charming. Or ever, for that matter.

As much as you'd wanted to focus on the fact that he seemed like he was interested in you, or at least interested in sleeping with you again, all you could focus on was how you were supposed to tell him what you obviously needed to. You hadn’t been prepared for this, and the stress had been eating at you all night, making you feel sick to your stomach. You'd hardly been able to eat dinner, having to lie to Emilia about not feeling well when she’d asked if you were alright. You'd put her down to sleep just over an hour ago and all you'd done since was sit on the couch drowning in your thoughts.

“What am I supposed to do here, Harl?” you asked your dog softly. “How am I supposed to tell him this? We barely know each other. Took me five years to even learn his name is Jax, how do I look him in the face and tell him he's got a four year old daughter?”

Harley stared up at you, his dark eyes watching as he listened to you speak. Head falling against the backrest of your couch, you continued to pet him gently, finding a bit of comfort in his presence.

“I don't even have his number,” you mused aloud. “No way to contact him besides showing up at that motorcycle clubhouse by that garage. And I really don't want to do that just to ask him to talk to me. Cause that's weird, right?”

Harley raised his head from your leg at the inflection in your voice, tilting it curiously to the side like he was trying to understand you. You sighed, beginning to scratch behind one of his ears as you let your thoughts freely flow out of you to the only one you could ever really talk to–your dog.

“What if I tell him and he wants nothing to do with her?” you asked him. “It was one thing when I just didn't know how to find him, but to have her dad not even want to know her?”

Your heart ached at the thought. Emilia had been asking questions about her dad starting almost a year ago. You had struggled trying to explain to her that her daddy just wasn't in her life because he didn't know about her and because you had no way to find him. You’d tried to make it a point for her to understand that him not being around wasn’t by choice or because he didn't want her. You'd hate to have to tell her the truth when she was older, that you’d found him and he hadn’t wanted anything to do with her.

“But what if he does want to be in her life?” you continued thinking aloud to your dog, absently petting him as he stared up at you. “What kind of man is he? He's part of a motorcycle club–whatever that even really means. Which was fine for some random one night thing. But as a father?”

Could this man even be a father? What would that even look like with whatever it was that he did for that club? Was his life even safe enough for Emilia to be in it?

“I wasn't anticipating this to happen when we moved to Charming, Harl,” you murmured, blankly staring ahead at the television screen again. “I don't even know how I feel about finding him. For so long it's just been Em and I. We've never really had anyone else. How am I just supposed to let a literal stranger into our life if that's what he wants?”

Sighing, your eyes drifted back down to Harley as he stared back at you. He made a quiet little noise before he dropped his head onto your thigh again. Your hand moved to his back as you lightly patted him.

“You want to tell him for me?” you asked Harley hopefully. “We could trade places for a bit and you can have that conversation for me. Because I'd honestly rather go piss in the backyard as a dog for an afternoon instead of having to look him in the eye and tell him he knocked me up all those years ago and now he has a daughter running around Charming.”

Harley shifted his head on your leg with a soft groan before his eyes slowly closed. A frown pulled at your lips before your attention drifted back to the television. Those same thoughts continued to spiral in your head. You knew you needed to tell Jax everything because the longer you waited, the worse it would be to tell him the truth.

“Figured as much,” you murmured quietly. “Next time I see him, I’ll do it. Whenever I'm not in a complete rush and Em isn't around. I'll just have to spit it out,” you quietly vowed to Harley. “Don't really think there's any other way to do it. He deserves to know, however he ends up reacting to the news. She's his daughter, too.”

You only hoped the opportunity came sooner rather than later so he didn't feel like you'd been trying to hide something from him.

254 notes · View notes

uknowmesstuff · 18 days ago

Text

Blur the Lines One Last Time

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 5.3k [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; cheating, mutual pining, jealous Jax, sexual tension, no happy ending (unless expanded into a mini-series), Reader smokes

Summary: For two years you'd been dating Ryan, having been together before he'd prospected for the Sons. After he patched in a few months back, your relationship had taken a backseat to the club. Despite him bringing you to the clubhouse as his old lady, Ryan was always distracted by the guys, the alcohol, and occasionally the girls. But you soon found yourself distracted by Jax, the pair of you secretly flirting behind Ryan's back. Though nothing had ever gone further than that–until one night when it does.

a/n: I teased this the other week and said if there was interest, I'd be happy to expand this into a little mini-series that ends happy. So feedback and reblogs are definitely appreciated! I'd like to know if you want more of these two!

Jax Teller one shot tag list: @kmc1989 @steviebbboi @bear-ink @secretlysamcro @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @bonnyclydecat @nutellajade @aria725 @f1samcro @kaydallas21 @nialiuwanderlust @sarraa-26 @uknowmesstuff @mmarysha @orymgraves @snowtargaryen

“Bullshit you throw better than me, jackass!” Tig disagreed.

Harshly slamming his beer down onto the table beside him, the glass made a sharp clank against the wood. Tig, who was clearly already a few beers deep tonight, stood up from his chair and took two steps towards your boyfriend.

“I kick your ass every damn time we play!” he told him.

“No you fuckin’ don't, man,” Ryan countered with an easy laugh, his arm wrapped around your waist. He gestured the drink in his other hand at Tig as he continued. “You're always so goddamn drunk and distracted by all the tits around here when we play. You rarely win at darts.”

“You're full of shit!” Tig snapped, further growing frustrated. “C'mon. Right now.” He roughly waved a hand between the pair of them, his eyes narrowing. “You and me. We're settling this.”

Raising your beer to your lips, you tipped back the rest of it as your eyes drifted away from the pointless argument beginning between Tig and your boyfriend. While you loved Ryan, you hated when he brought you out to the clubhouse and then got distracted by stupid shit like this. He always felt like he had to prove something to the guys, no matter how meaningless it was, just because he was a newly patched member. Which usually led to him forgetting that he'd brought you with him until he got drunk and needed you to drive him back to his place.

Drinking down the alcohol, your eyes began to travel around the room. Tonight wasn't one of the Sons’ wild and rowdy parties, so it wasn't as crowded or loud in the clubhouse as usual. Juice, Chibs, and Happy were over by the couches talking, a handful of beer bottles they'd made their way through scattered around the tables near them. At a table in the middle of the room, a few guys you recognized from the auto shop sat looking very intent on their conversation; one guy you knew as Jerry spoke animatedly with his hands. A few of the girls that always hung around were gathered at one corner of the bar, shooting suggestive looks to any of the guys who glanced their way.

As your gaze continued scanning the room, you eventually and accidentally caught Jax’s eyes from across the clubhouse. He was leaning his hip against the pool table with his arms crossed over his broad chest, clearly in the middle of a conversation with Bobby and Opie. You assumed all the noise Ryan and Tig were making with their argument had initially drawn his attention over in your direction, but you also knew that wasn't the only reason he was staring at you.

Jax liked you, and he damn well knew that you liked him, too.

Of course you were aware of how inappropriate that was since you were dating Ryan. You'd both been together for two years now, just before he'd started prospecting for the Sons. You loved him–or at least you thought you did until he'd started bringing you out to these parties the past few months after he'd patched in. Then Jax unexpectedly swooped in out of nowhere one night and had you questioning your feelings altogether, making you wonder how much you could love the man standing next to you when your thoughts kept drifting back to someone else.

It didn’t help that ever since Ryan had joined SAMCRO’s charter, his mind had always been elsewhere. There hadn’t been any more date nights, and there certainly weren’t any lazy mornings laying in bed together. He barely had any time for just you, which gradually had you beginning to feel as if you'd become invisible to him. Ryan was always hanging around the clubhouse, leaving you feeling lonely and neglected back at your place most nights. And the times he did bring you with him out here, you barely seemed to exist in his mind. All he cared about was proving himself to the club, as if he somehow hadn’t done that already as a prospect for an entire year.

But Jax? He definitely saw you.

That first night you’d met Jax here, you'd been drawn straight to him. It wasn't just that he was beautiful in a sort of rough and dangerous way that Ryan absolutely didn’t possess, but because you two just got along in a way you never had with someone else. Whenever you both were talking, time always felt like it ceased to exist. One night last week, while Ryan had gotten drunk and argued with Juice over a game of pool, Jax had you smiling and laughing so much that neither of you realized you’d spent the past four hours together sitting at the bar.

But you made it a point to never act on anything with Jax even if you were completely guilty of having an emotional affair with him. You tried to convince yourself that if you never crossed that line past the flirting, you could lie to yourself that what you were doing wasn't that bad. It wasn't like you hadn't caught Ryan flirting with the croweaters multiple times when you'd been here with him, and you could only imagine how much it happened when you weren’t here. Not that his flirting somehow made yours acceptable, you knew that. You just couldn’t seem to help yourself around Jax.

Standing there across the clubhouse, you lowered your empty beer bottle as you continued to hold Jax’s gaze. Your pulse quickened under the weight of his stare, enjoying having his attention on you despite the fact that Ryan's arm was still wrapped around your waist, holding you flush against his side as he continued to argue with Tig about the damn dart game. Ignoring their pointless discussion, you could feel heat creeping up your neck at the sight of Jax’s mouth curling into a faint smirk from the opposite side of the room. Biting your bottom lip, you fought back the grin threatening to break out across your face before faintly shaking your head at him.

He shouldn’t be making eyes at you like this, staring at you so openly in the middle of the clubhouse. Anyone could look over and catch onto the way you were looking at each other. Especially because sometimes the way Jax looked at you? It made it apparent that he was mentally undressing you with his eyes–like right now.

Forcing your attention away from him and back onto Ryan, you felt that heat continuing to creep its way up your neck. You knew it was wrong to be imagining Jax’s fingers sliding up beneath your shirt, wondering what it would be like to have his hands on you tonight. You already had someone. Blinking hard a couple of times, you tried to shove those thoughts from your mind before you leaned in towards Ryan.

“Hey,” you said, attempting to draw his attention away from Tig, “I'm going to grab another beer. You want anything?”

Ryan's gaze briefly flickered from Tig to you, shaking his head. “No, I'm good, babe.”

And then he was back to arguing with Tig as if you weren't right there. With a soft, frustrated sigh, you gave up on thinking he’d pay you any attention until he’d settled this thing with Tig. Placing a kiss on his cheek, you figured you’d go grab yourself another drink and settle in for another boring night watching Ryan get drunk before driving him back to his place. Then, like usual, you’d stay the night and wind up taking care of him and his hangover in the morning. You’d be lucky if the sex was even decent tonight depending how drunk he got.

Turning and heading to the bar disappointed, you noticed one of the newer prospects hanging around near it. When he caught your eye, he grabbed a beer from the fridge beside himself before holding it out towards you.

“Need another?” he asked. “Cause it looks like you do.”

“Yeah,” you replied, accepting the beer from his outstretched hand. Gesturing your head over your shoulder behind you, you added on, “Got a feeling they’ll be at that for a bit.”

The prospect you couldn’t remember the name of nodded, grinning at the pair behind you. “I always see Ryan challenging the guys out here,” he told you. “It’s always something. If it’s not pool it’s darts. Or drinking. Or shooting.”

“Cause he thinks he’s always got something to prove,” you muttered, annoyed.

Bringing the bottle up to your lips, you drank down the cool beer as you leaned against the bar counter. The prospect’s eyes shifted over your shoulder, looking at someone approaching. Without even turning to look, you knew exactly who it was by the way the prospect ducked his head and quietly headed off towards the girls at the far end of the bar. Seconds later, you felt his presence before you even saw him, the hair on the back of your neck prickling just before he sidled up beside you.

He was standing close to you. Far closer than he should’ve been for someone who was just a friend. You could feel the heat of his body radiating off of himself, warming up your entire right side as his arm just barely brushed against your shoulder. But you were always hyper-aware of Jax whenever he was nearby. It was as if your body was incapable of not noticing him on a damn cellular level–like two magnets fighting to just finally connect.

Setting your beer bottle onto the bar counter, right beside his ringed hands that were resting along the surface, you swallowed the alcohol down hard. When you finally looked over at him leaning against the bar next to you, you saw that wide grin on his face and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes like he was genuinely pleased to see you. A sharp pain hit you right in the chest as if he’d just crushed your heart in his fist himself.

While you loved Ryan, you undeniably felt something for Jax Teller. But you also knew the man jumped from girl to girl, tossing them away like used tissues. He wasn't worth throwing your relationship away for, or all the drama and problems it would cause if you did.

“You look good tonight, darlin’,” he complimented in a lazy drawl.

His eyes dipped down, that grin remaining as he scanned over your outfit before his gaze lingered at the low cut of your top. Your traitorous mind conjured up images of Jax’s mouth trailing hot, wet kisses between the open slit in the fabric and your tongue involuntarily darted out, wetting your lips. Jax’s eyes slid back up, his gaze fixed along your now damp lips long enough for you to hear the pounding of your own heart in your ears.

“That shirt new?” he asked, his gaze lowering towards your chest again. “Haven’t seen you in it before.”

Clearing your throat, your eyes flew away from him and safely back onto your beer bottle in front of you. But you couldn’t stop the corner of your lips from pulling up into a smile. Ryan never noticed your clothes, and he barely ever gave you compliments now. You missed feeling seen–something you told yourself was the real reason you liked Jax’s attention.

But you knew that wasn't all of it. You knew there was a lot more to it than that, you just refused to think too hard about it.

“Yeah, it is,” you answered.

Glancing back over at him, you took in the sight of him in his usual jeans and white t-shirt, his leather kutte thrown over the top of it. His blonde hair was styled back in its usual style, the sight of it looking so perfect always tempting you to stick your fingers in it and mess it up, your hands itching to just tug on the blonde strands. His beard had grown in a bit thicker since you’d last seen him, probably from having been too busy this week to deal with it. You liked when it was a little longer, though. Just another thing you wanted to grab on him.

“New shirt for you, too?” you teased him. “Or is it impossible to tell which one is new with all the white t-shirts you own?”

Jax huffed out an amused sound at the jab, his chin dropping down towards his chest as his shoulders shook lightly with quiet laughter. He looked up at you beside himself from the corner of his eye, that smile still drawn over his face. You swore your heart flew into your throat in that moment, time nearly standing still as you held his stare.

He was painfully attractive and fuck did you hate him for it right now. Why couldn't you have met him first?

“You’re lucky I like you,” he told you, a glint in his eyes. He raised his head, tilting it to the side just a bit as that smile lingered on his lips. “Not everyone gets away with making jokes like you do with me, darlin’.”

You shrugged a shoulder playfully back at him, ignoring the way your stomach nervously fluttered at the words ‘I like you’ as if you were fifteen again. That should not have affected you.

“Maybe it’s just because no one else is actually any funny, Teller,” you shot back. “You think of that?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, nodding his head. “You’re right. No one else here knows how to tell a good joke.”

“Might help if they weren’t always drunk,” you quipped.

He bit down on his bottom lip, his smile creeping wider across his handsome face. He shifted against the bar, his leg brushing past your thigh with the movement as he turned to face you more fully.

“Quick with the tongue tonight, aren’t you, darlin’?” he mused, arching a brow back at you.

“With some things, yes,” you told him, the innuendo dripping from your words as you picked your beer back up. “But with other things I prefer to take my time with it.”

You lifted the bottle to your lips, your eyes returning to Jax's as you took a pull off of it. His teasing smile had vanished, his expression now replaced with something else. A look of hunger and something darker burned in his eyes as he watched you drink down your beer, his hand on the counter curling into a fist. While you knew you shouldn’t be saying shit like this to Jax, it wasn’t like he hadn’t said far worse to you before. But it was even more awful with Ryan just at the other end of the clubhouse drinking and throwing darts with Tig while you were standing here flirting with his president, making thinly veiled comments about sucking his dick.

Jax leaned in closer towards you, dropping his voice so only you could hear him. “Why the hell are you still with him?” he asked.

Well that was a first. Usually comments like the one you'd just made were met with similar comments in return. And around and around you both would go until you were wound up and took Ryan home, taking your sexual frustration out on him. Then you'd lay awake feeling guilty about it afterwards.

“Because I care about him,” you answered Jax. “I've made that clear.”

“Yet you say shit like that to me,” he pointed out.

“And you say shit like that to me. And he says shit like that and probably far worse to the girls always hanging around here,” you countered. “Everyone here is always flirting with everyone. Doesn't mean a damn thing.”

Jax leaned back, creating obvious space between you both as his lips thinned along his face. You knew that look he was giving you, you'd seen it a few times before. He was getting pissed–at you.

“So all those times I've spent talking with you didn't mean a damn thing, huh?” he asked, frustration lacing his words as his eyes hardened. “Those hours I've spent sitting in here with you or out having a smoke in the lot? It's all just somethin’ everyone does, is that right?”

Pulling a face, you were caught off guard by how visibly upset he’d become. He knew you and Ryan were together, you'd been introduced as his girlfriend when you'd met him a few months ago. He'd known that the entire time you'd been flirting, that's why you'd both always been discrete about it and why nothing besides that had ever happened.

“What was it supposed to mean, Jax?” you questioned him back, keeping your own voice low to avoid drawing attention. “You know I'm with Ryan. Were you expecting me to just leave the guy I care about to be some hookup for you?”

“Who said anything about just being a hookup?” he shot back, his brows drawing together. “You think I make a habit of just hitting on my brothers’ old ladies for the hell of it? Cause that's the kinda shit that causes problems, darlin’.”

The way he'd shot the pet name out sounded bitter. When he'd come over here a few minutes ago, a fight was the last thing you expected to have with him. You didn't understand why he was getting so pissed at you for still being Ryan's girl. You'd never led him on to think you were going to leave him.

“So what, you expect me to dump Ryan and be your short-lived fling for however long you want me?” you questioned in a harsh whisper, feeling your own temper flaring. “End a serious relationship and stir up shit in the club over me jumping from Ryan to you?”

Jax didn't respond because he knew you were right. You knew how tight these guys were with each other. Jax going behind a brother's back and stealing his old lady, whether he was serious or not about you, would cause tension in the group. Tension that could bleed into club politics and some of their jobs–meaning people could bleed over it, one way or another. And you didn't want to be the cause of that.

“You know that's not going to happen, Jax,” you stated, hating the truth even as you said it. “It's just harmless flirting. That's what it's always been. Nothing more.”

A sharp, bitter scoff fell out of Jax in response before he shook his head at you. The way he was looking at you, like he couldn’t believe your answer, had instantly gotten under your skin. He was the one who'd flirted with you first. He was the one who'd started all of this shit when you'd initially tried to stop it from happening in the first place. You'd repeatedly reminded him that you were with Ryan in the beginning, but he'd always just smirked that smirk of his at you and kept on flirting.

You grabbed your beer from off the bar top before pushing away from it. “I'm going to go have a smoke,” you told him, clearly ending the conversation and whatever this was.

Walking away from him, you headed back over to where Ryan and Tig were focused on a game of darts. They'd gathered the attention from most of the guys and the few girls here tonight with whatever bet they'd made, but you honestly didn't care, and Ryan didn't even notice you as you set your beer down on the table and began digging through your purse. You searched around for your pack of cigarettes and your lighter, ignoring the cheering and playful insults coming from beside you.

Once you'd found what you were looking for, you slipped a single cigarette out of the pack and turned, not sparing the group around the dartboard a second glance as you headed towards the exit. When you passed by Jax still leaning against the bar where you’d left him, you could feel his eyes following your every step, but you didn't spare him a single glance, either. All you wanted was to go outside and clear your head after that odd confrontation with him.

Stepping out into the lot, you noticed it had grown cooler outside than it had been a few hours ago when you'd arrived, the temperature difference noticeable–and it was a welcomed difference after how warm it had been inside. As the door to the clubhouse fell shut behind you, the noise from everyone became blissfully muffled. Without even thinking about it, you turned the nearby corner of the building and made your way as far from where anyone would find you as possible. You just wanted to be alone, left to your thoughts and the guilt steadily filling your gut.

Placing the cigarette between your lips as you walked, you flipped open your lighter and held it to the tip. Inhaling that first drag felt like a wave of relief crashing into you. You pocketed your lighter before leaning against the building once you’d gotten a good distance away from the picnic tables, letting your head drop back against the cool cement as your eyes closed. Reaching a hand up, you pulled the cigarette from between your lips and expelled the smoke, allowing your mind to wander.

You knew you needed to stop flirting with Jax. The problems in your relationship with Ryan were ones you needed to try to resolve, not ones you needed to continue to ignore by focusing on the attention of some other man. Fixing things with Ryan was the right thing to do. And if the issues couldn't be resolved–if Ryan couldn't split his focus between you and the club–then you'd have to figure out what happened next.

But dating Jax? That wasn't a realistic option. Besides the fact that the man didn't date, him dating you after you'd been with Ryan was likely something that would start a fight. Something that could potentially create a rift in their motorcycle club, even if it was just a temporary one. And who knew what damage a rift like that would cause considering what these guys were involved in and how they handled their problems. It wasn't something you wanted on your conscience.

So Jax? He was off limits. Every SAMCRO member was for you. And you needed to stop with the flirting and the fantasies rolling around in your head. You needed to get him out of your head.

“I don't like seeing you with him.”

Eyes flying open, you startled at the unexpected voice, a soft gasp falling out of you. Your head rolled along the cement to find Jax standing a few feet away, half of himself bathed in the light from the floodlight on the side of the clubhouse while the other remained shadowed. Brows furrowing, you felt your pulse quicken at his sudden appearance while you simultaneously struggled to fight back the strange feelings that had surfaced at what he'd just said. You tried to take a steadying breath before you answered, not wanting him to know just how affected you were by him.

“He's my boyfriend, Jax,” you pointed out.

Raising the cigarette back up to your lips, you took another drag from it. But even through the dark, you could see the way his eyes lingered on your mouth.

“Sure as shit doesn't act like it. I think we both know that,” Jax countered sharply, taking a few purposeful steps towards you. “Doesn't even fuckin’ notice what you're doing when you're here. Doesn't notice when you're spending hours lookin’ at me the way you do. And it's not like I haven’t seen him flirting with the girls here, darlin’.”

A bitter, humorless laugh slipped out of you as you shook your head at him, expelling the smoke from your lips. “Yeah,” you shot back sarcastically, “because I'm one to judge him for that, aren't I?”

“There's something here,” Jax continued, ignoring your comment as he gradually closed the distance between you both. “Don't fuckin’ tell me there isn't.”

You fixed Jax with a pointed look as he approached you, though when he stopped barely two feet away, you admittedly were having a difficult time keeping your hands to yourself. There was that pull again–the one that almost felt dangerous.

“It’s just attraction, Jax,” you lied to him, trying to ignore the way his heated stare was making you feel more seen than you had in months. “That's all this is, alright?”

You drew the cigarette back up to your lips for another drag, but Jax’s hand darted out and grabbed the smoke from between your fingers before you could. Mouth falling open in surprise, you watched as he threw it to the pavement, crushing it roughly under his shoe.

“I've never once seen you look at him the way you look at me,” Jax nearly growled. “And he rarely fuckin’ looks at you when I see you both together. He doesn’t even see you.”

Taking another step into your personal space, Jax’s hand reached forward and cupped your cheek. The calluses of his palm scratched against your skin as he turned your face towards his, making it impossible for you to hide from him. It felt like you couldn’t breathe with how close he'd leaned in towards you, his warm breath falling over your parted lips. Losing the ability to form a coherent thought, all you could do was stare helplessly back at him because he had a point. There was something more than just attraction sparking in the air between you both. There always had been.

“Tell me I'm wrong,” he demanded, an edge of desperation in his words. “Go on. Look me in the goddamn eye and tell me I'm fuckin’ wrong. ”

Your tongue slipped out, nervously running over your lips, but you couldn't form the words to say that. His focus shifted back to your mouth, his eyes openly following the movement of your tongue as the corner of his own mouth twitched. You could feel the tension in his body just from the firm hold he had on your cheek, but you couldn't deny what he'd said. Even though you knew you should tell him to stop–aware that this was the exact moment you should've–you couldn't.

Through the dim light, you saw how his eyes slowly drifted back up from your lips to lock on yours, holding your stare. You could feel it, that point of no return. The last chance for you to tell him no. But you didn't stop him before he dove forward, his hand on your cheek roughly pulling your face to him just as his lips crashed down hard over your own.

The second his mouth was on yours the taste of beer and cigarettes and him coated your tongue. Not even thinking about what you were doing, your hands grabbed onto Jax, one clutching his leather kutte while the other tangled into his hair, both of them yanking him into you. A shudder ran up your spine at the soft grunt he made against your mouth.

No one had ever kissed you like this before. You felt like your heart was going to burst straight out of your chest, your mind completely blank to anything else but him. His hand had slid to the back of your head, firmly cradling it in his large palm as he kept your mouth right against his. The hold he had on you–the way he was kissing you–was like he was afraid you'd disappear if he stopped for even one second.

His other hand had been gripping your hip, but you faintly registered the way it slid downwards to your thigh. The heat of his palm seeped through your jeans as Jax lifted your leg, resting it over his hip before he pushed his solid body into yours. Your back pressed into the cool cement of the building behind you, a low moan leaving your mouth when you felt the slight bulge beneath his jeans. Jax swallowed the sound of it down, his mouth still on yours like he was drowning in you.

You were lost in the moment, kissing Jax back just as feverishly as he was kissing you. Your fingers had messed up his perfectly slicked back hair, the strands of it wrapped around them as you held him close. You were gasping for breath in between kisses, growing lightheaded with his assault on your mouth. When his hips rutted into you, his growing erection pressing right against you through your jeans, a filthy moan slipped out of your mouth against his.

Jax’s mouth fell away from yours, his face pressing into the crook of your neck as your head fell back against the building once more, exposing more skin to his mouth. He groaned against you, his hips rolling back into you again as his beard scratched along your skin, the sensation only adding to the heat building inside of you. Eyelids fluttering and breath coming in hard, your mind was slowly starting to come back to you. His lips were on your neck, sucking on the skin above your pulse point, when the reality of what you were doing hit you through the haze of pleasure.

Both of your hands were on his shoulders instantly, lightly pushing back against him. You couldn't do this. You weren't going to fuck him when you were with Ryan, especially not with him just inside the building behind you.

“Jax, stop,” you breathed out. “We can't.”

His mouth immediately released your skin from between his plush lips, his hips moving back just enough so that he was no longer pressed into you. He was breathing hard as he stared at you through the dark, confusion in his eyes as his shoulders rose and fell with his heavy breaths.

“I can't do this to him,” you managed out, voice quiet. “This is wrong.”

Pain flashed behind his blue eyes, but he didn’t speak. His hair was a mess, blonde strands out of place and a few pieces framing his flushed face. He looked so good like this. All you wanted to do was forget the world around you and pull him back into you. You wanted his mouth and his hands back on you. You wanted him inside of you, making you his. You wanted to know what it would be like to let him fuck you.

But that was so fucking wrong.

“We can't be doing this,” you told him, slipping past him. “Not anymore. This is–this has to be the end of it.”

Jax took a step back from you, one hand running across his mouth as he tried to collect his thoughts. You shook your head roughly at him, beginning to back away as you realized how close you’d just come to crossing another line. You didn’t even know where the damn lines were anymore.

“Baby,” Jax began softly, tone pleading. “Don’t–”

“No, Jax,” you stated firmly.

You shook your head again before turning around and hurrying down the lot and back towards the clubhouse. You refused to look behind you–you couldn't. Because you knew you'd break at that hurt look on his face, especially after how that kiss had just told you the truth without either of you needing to say it. A truth you hadn't wanted to acknowledge, one you’d been trying to hide from.

He didn't just want you like some hookup. And you didn’t just like his attention.

But kissing him–especially like that–was crossing a line. It shouldn't have gone that far. This was never supposed to have gone that far.

It was wrong. It was wrong. It was wrong.

So why the fuck did it have to feel so goddamn right?

152 notes · View notes

uknowmesstuff · 18 days ago

Text

Woooowww Belllaa this was soo good❤️❤️

Falling Apart & Torn at the Seams [5/5]

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 5.6k [Series Masterlist][Jax Fic Masterlist]

warnings/tags: 18+; pregnant!Reader, angst with an eventual happy/hopeful ending, emotional hurt, threat to abort (because it's Clay), angry Jax, Clay being Clay

a/n: This is the final part of this angsty mini-series, so hopefully y'all enjoy the way it wraps up! It's also vastly longer than the other parts. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

series tag list: @kmc1989 @shadyshadyy @cwallace02sblog @staley83 @steviebbboi @bonni-98 @aria725 @mmarysha @secretlysamcro @f1samcro @dollface-xoxo @kaydallas21 @tempt-ress @sarraa-26 @uknowmesstuff @orymgraves

The red and blue flashing lights sharply tore through the black night, the colors coating everything they touched–the pavement of the parking lot, the concrete of the clubhouse, the reaper above the door, and the Sons where they stood watching the police on their compound.

Jax stood beside Opie in front of the closed auto shop, casually finishing off the cigarette pinched between two of his fingers while his other hand was tucked into the pocket of his jeans. His eyes tracked Clay’s steps across the lot as two police officers escorted him to the back of the police car, his hands cuffed behind his back. It took everything inside of Jax not to call out to Clay, itching to taunt him one last time. But just before Clay climbed into the backseat of the police cruiser, he glanced over to where Jax stood smoking near the garage.

Jax pulled the cigarette out from between his lips, blowing out a cloud of smoke that drifted up into the dark sky. His hard stare met his step-father's before one corner of his lips slowly drew back into a satisfied, triumphant smirk. Because he’d won, and Jax wanted to remember this moment. He wanted to sear it into his brain so when he finally found you, he could give you a detailed retelling of the look crossing Clay's face when he realized that he was finally getting what he fucking deserved for all the shit he’d done over the years.

Jax flicked his spent cigarette to the ground, shifting his attention away from Clay as he was shoved into the back of the car. He crushed the smoke beneath his shoe, grinding it into the pavement. While he still wished he could be the one to personally end Clay for everything he'd done–for everything he'd taken and tried to take from him and the others–he knew he'd have to settle for this quiet vengeance. Because it wouldn't be long until Clay was transported to Stockton prison where Jax had exchanged a favor for a favor.

As the police climbed back into their cars, the Sons began to gather around Jax. Because with Clay gone, he'd moved up in rank–the proof soon to be stitched onto his leather. Looking around himself, Jax could see the frustration and confusion on his brothers’ faces. Clay’s arrest had come as a shock to everyone but himself, Opie, and Gemma.

“What're we gonna do about this mess?” Tig asked, eyes on Jax as he gestured a hand across the lot to the police cruiser. “He's looking at life in prison for this shit.”

It took a considerable amount of control for Jax to keep his expression neutral and not to laugh as the police cars began slowly pulling out of their compound. Clay would've been fortunate to even be looking at that long. He was lucky if he had a week.

“I called Lowen already,” Jax began, attempting to quell the guys’ fears. “She said the DA has DNA evidence all over the scene and the bodies. They even got a murder weapon with his fingerprints on it.” He shrugged, continuing with a shake of his head as he attempted his best to fake sincerity. “She said it sounded like a clear cut case.”

“She say if they're giving him bail?” Bobby questioned.

Plastering a faux somber expression onto his face, Jax shook his head again. “Nah, not for what he's getting picked up on,” he replied. “Lowen is certain the judge assigned to his case is gonna deny it because of his history.”

Tig cursed loudly, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration. The tension among the Sons was palpable as Jax’s gaze passed over each man. Except for Opie, who'd helped Jax tip off the police and practically handed them everything they'd needed. Hale had been all too happy for a chance to take Clay off the streets for a crime he’d actually committed.

“We’ll do what we can to secure him protection inside,” Jax informed the guys. He shrugged a shoulder again, still putting on a show like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. “But that might be all we can do. We won’t know more until Lowen does.”

The heavy tension still hung thick in the air around the group, Tig and Juice staring down at the end of the lot where the police cruisers had disappeared a minute ago. Chibs had begun pacing in front of the garage, one hand running back and forth across his mouth like he was deep in thought, while Happy stood there against the building, a cold look in his eyes as he stared off into the distance. Jax glanced over at Opie beside him, his best friend wearing his usual stoic mask to cover up his own true feelings about what they’d done. While both men had admittedly felt some level of guilt at making this call–especially behind the club’s back–Clay had it coming. He’d been wielding his power too freely for too long.

Bobby let out a sigh before making his way over towards Jax, a grim look on his face. Jax shifted his focus over to the man who’d soon be the new sergeant at arms after Jax had made Opie his vice president. He had a feeling he knew what Bobby was about to bring up, and he tried his best to hide the fact that he was itching for the news.

“Probably not the best time,” Bobby began solemnly, “but you said you wanted me to reach out to Precious and get you in touch with Colletti to find your missing girl, right?”

Jax nodded in response, struggling to keep his emotions in check. He had asked Bobby a few days ago to reach out to his ex-wife's current husband, Sergio Colletti. The man was a decent bounty-hunter and possibly the only person Jax could think of who could track where you'd disappeared to over these past couple of weeks. He needed someone who could access more than what Juice could, someone that could actually pick up on your trail to find where you could've gone because you’d clearly been covering your tracks too damn well. He assumed you’d been doing such a good job of it because you were afraid of Clay finding you. It was the only thing that made sense.

“Yeah, you hear back?” Jax asked him.

“He said he'd set up a meeting with you,” Bobby told him. “Tomorrow afternoon. Look, I know the timing isn't great–”

“It's fine,” Jax said, cutting him off. “I can handle the Clay shit and still meet with him. I'm not abandoning my girl, Bobby. She’s been gone for two weeks now without a word. I need to fuckin’ find her and make sure she’s alright.”

Bobby nodded, that grim look still spread over his face. By the way he was standing there still looking at Jax, he knew this wasn’t the end of the conversation. All he’d told to everyone–besides Ope and Gemma–of your disappearance was that you’d mentioned being threatened before you’d disappeared. And now, he was going to pin that threat and Clay’s messy crime scene that led to his arrest on Lin and his men. They’d already been in the middle of some shit with the Triads, it wouldn’t be hard to pass it.

“Think it’s all connected?” Bobby asked, voice dropping lower. “Your girl and this shit with Clay?”

Jax made a face, shrugging his shoulders a little. “It’s gotta be,” he answered. “No way Clay was that goddamn messy dealing with that warehouse problem. And someone scared my girl off. Gotta be Lin and his guys.”

“Guess you got your hands full of shit to sort through already, pres,” Bobby said with a sigh, clapping Jax on the shoulder. “But you know we got your back. With your girl and all this other shit.”

Jax nodded at him, his eyes briefly flickering to Opie before returning to Bobby. “Yeah,” Jax replied. “I know, brother.”

Sitting on the couch at your best friend's place, you were scrolling through a listing of jobs in the area on your laptop once again. You needed something with health insurance before your pregnancy started showing and no employer would want to hire you knowing you'd be on maternity leave in a matter of months.

You needed money. You couldn’t just keep crashing at Lauren’s place out near Modesto trying to hide from Clay. Her apartment was only about an hour outside of Charming and you weren’t entirely sure if that was far enough to keep Clay from following through on his threats. Which is why you’d been using cash whenever you needed to make a purchase over the past couple of weeks, but you couldn’t keep that up. And you couldn’t keep relying on Lauren even if she’d been more than happy to help you after you’d showed up at her door and told her everything.

You’d long since tossed your old cellphone, uncertain if Juice was capable of tracking it. Though you figured Clay probably knew a guy who knew a guy if he really wanted to find you, so you’d bought a prepay from the store that you’d been using instead. Considering how poorly things had gone when you’d tried to ask Jax for help the last time you’d seen him, you hadn’t tried to reach out to him at all, either.

You’d been curious to know how he’d reacted to your sudden disappearance. You imagined he’d been upset because you knew Jax wasn’t a heartless asshole, he’d have had to feel something when he’d realized you were gone. But had he assumed you’d taken that final argument as some sort of breakup and just moved on? Had he even tried to find you? Had he figured out why you’d left and what you’d been trying to tell him in the first place?

But honestly, none of that even mattered because you and your unborn baby weren’t safe as long as Clay was around. He wanted to pull Jax deeper into the club, and you were already ruining that by taking up his attention. Adding a baby into the situation would only make it harder for Jax to have the singular focus that Clay demanded from him. He’d never let you back into Charming, especially not while carrying Jax’s child.

Absently picking up your glass of water beside you, you tried to stomach a few sips of the cool liquid. By now, the morning sickness had hit you in full force. There were only two periods of the day where you could reliably manage to get food into you–briefly around noon, and just around dinner time. Any time other than that? You wanted to be sick. Even water sometimes had your stomach churning.

And almost everything smelled off to you. Even your own scented soaps had your nose scrunching up in distaste when you took a shower. Food wasn't any different. The only thing that didn't smell weird was cigarette smoke, but obviously you weren’t walking around finding smokers outside just to deeply breathe in their toxic secondhand smoke. But it reminded you of Jax. Of safety and comfort and how things used to be months ago before Gemma and Clay had turned you both on each other.

Setting the glass of water back down onto the coaster on the coffee table, you heard the familiar rumble of an approaching motorcycle outside of the apartment building. Your focus returned to the laptop in front of you as you continued to scroll, searching for an opening somewhere that sounded promising. While Lauren was at work during the day, you’d been here applying to jobs online in between the napping and the puking.

You stopped scrolling when your eyes landed on something that looked interesting–a fairly decent paying receptionist position that you were qualified for after working as Teller-Morrow’s office manager. Opening the page, your eyes scanned across it as you began reading about the position while trying to ignore the constant fatigue that came with the first trimester of pregnancy.

You’d only gotten halfway down the page when you heard a knock come from the door of the apartment. Pausing, your eyes narrowed at the screen in front of you. That was strange because Lauren obviously had a key to her own apartment and she wouldn’t need to knock. If she’d somehow forgotten her keys, she had the number to your new phone and she’d have called you.

Your attention drifted over the top of your laptop screen, lingering on the apartment door that someone was currently standing outside. A slow, steady stream of fear began to flood you as you felt your pulse increase along with your thoughts. Had Clay finally found you? Had he sent Tig after you because you hadn’t gotten far enough away from Charming? Was he here to kill you this time?

Closing your laptop on the coffee table, you cautiously rose from the couch while your eyes remained on the front door. Padding softly across the wood floor in your friend’s apartment, you moved as quietly towards the door as you could. With each step closer, your heart beat harder inside of your chest, your breath nearly stopping when you finally reached the door. You placed a hand flat against it before leaning in close enough to look through the peephole and out into the hall, fully expecting to be met with the sight of a gun barrel–but it was Jax.

Taking a step back, your brows deeply knitted together in confusion. How had he found you? You had been trying to avoid using any possible way to trace yourself, he shouldn't have been able to track you to Lauren's. But despite your surprise at seeing him standing there in the hallway, you were grateful it was him who'd found you instead of Clay.

You pulled back the deadbolt before unlocking the door, swinging it open a second later. You’d somehow expected not to still see him standing there–somehow thinking you’d imagined it–but the moment the door was open, his eyes locked right onto yours.

It felt like time had completely stopped. Both of you just stood there in silence for a long, drawn out moment simply staring at each other. What felt like an eternity later, you finally remembered to breathe as your hand tightened around the door handle. In the growing silence, Jax’s eyes began scanning you over, a myriad of emotions passing over his face in rapid succession that it was impossible to tell exactly what he was feeling.

Your own eyes took in the state of him in return. He looked exhausted. There were dark shadows underneath his eyes and his hair looked messy in a way that had nothing to do with having just been on his bike. His facial hair had grown out, like he hadn’t bothered with it since you’d left a couple of weeks ago. He smelled very much like cigarette smoke, but instead of the intensity of the scent making you nauseous like everything else, you found yourself struggling not to just step forward and bury your face into his chest, letting the smell of him surround you while you sobbed against him.

You’d missed him so damn much these past couple of weeks. But you were still incredibly fucking pissed off and hurt over that last argument and the way he’d reacted to you. Jax had never been so cruel and cold in the past. You hadn’t recognized him that night. And in the days since then, you’d still wondered if maybe he’d gone and spent that night with someone else after he’d left.

Eventually, Jax’s eyes returned to your face and you caught the way his lips trembled. He looked like he was struggling to keep himself composed–which was not like the Jax you knew.

“I fucked up,” he breathed out, finally breaking the silence. “I fucked up so goddamn bad, baby. I don’t even–”

He broke off, his head dropping guiltily as he shook it. Gripping the door tighter in your hold, you refused to let him inside the apartment and off the hook that easy. But when he raised his head again, you had not expected to see the tears welling in his blue eyes. The sight of the raw emotion on his face hit you right in the chest like a physical blow.

“I’m sorry,” he continued, voice thick with emotion. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry. And I know that’s not even enough to begin to cover all this shit, but it’s the goddamn truth. I fucked up that night. I was tired from the bullshit Clay had me dealing with earlier, I wasn’t fucking thinking when I came to your place. And I…” He trailed off, wincing as he looked away from you. “I shouldn’t have treated checking up on you like it was just another damn job I had to take care of that night.”

His gaze dropped down to the hallway floor outside of the apartment, his eyes briefly closing as guilt and shame washed across his features. This was easily the most vulnerable you’d ever seen Jax. He looked like he was near tears, struggling to keep his voice steady.

“You needed me,” he said, his words suddenly so quiet you had to strain to listen. “You needed me and I let you down. And I can’t change that. I can’t go back and fix that.”

Jax sniffed hard before he looked up, his expression shifting as his eyes met yours again with an intensity and determination you’d never seen suddenly reflecting back at you. He took a step closer towards the doorway, an earnestness in his words as he continued.

“But I have spent the past couple weeks trying to make it right,” he assured you. “And I promise I’ll never let you down again, baby. Either of you.”

His eyes dropped down to your stomach and for a second you were confused before it fully hit you. The realization felt like a weight slowly lifting off of your shoulders.

“You know?” you asked him.

Holding your gaze again, he nodded. “Broke into your place when you wouldn’t answer the door or the phone for a couple of days,” he confessed, a sheepish smile creeping onto his face. “Found a box for prenatal vitamins in your bathroom garbage can.”

Chewing your bottom lip, you tried to take a steadying breath. So he knew you were pregnant now, and he wasn’t freaking out, either.

“That wasn’t how I wanted to tell you,” you admitted quietly.

He nodded once again, that small, sad smile still on his face. “I figured, darlin’.”

Hand still gripping the door tight as if it was a lifeline, you tried to process what he’d just said. So he’d known that you were pregnant this whole time you’d been gone from Charming? But then something else he’d just said passed through your mind again and your brows drew together in confusion.

“What do you mean you’ve been trying to make it right?” you asked him slowly. “Trying to make what right?”

“The shit with Clay,” he answered. “Took me far too goddamn long to realize what was goin’ on that night. That he’d threatened you. That he’d done it while knowing you were carrying my child.” He paused, his jaw clenching in anger briefly before he shoved it back down. “So while I’ve been trying to find where you’d disappeared, I was also trying to make Charming safe for you both. Because darlin’, I want you to come back. You don’t belong out here.”

You shook your head, the confusion still written on your face. “Make it safe how, Jax?” you questioned. “Clay isn’t just going to let me come back to Charming. He’s not–”

The sentence died in the air when Jax’s hand reached up, grabbing part of his kutte and lifting it up towards you. The gesture caught your attention, your eyes dropping down to the patches. Almost immediately, you noticed his ‘vice president’ patch had been replaced by one that simply said ‘president.’ You stared at it, trying to make it make sense.

“Clay was arrested almost a week ago,” Jax began, speaking slowly and clearly. “Left a lot of evidence behind at a warehouse where the police found a few bodies. Pretty clear cut case. Judge didn’t grant him bail so he got transferred to Stockton prison to wait for trial.”

Your eyes gradually left the patch on his kutte, slowly making their way up to meet his again. He didn’t falter as he continued.

“He was attacked in the cafeteria yesterday afternoon,” he told you. “Got a call from Lowen. Stabbed a few times by a couple of guys. Bled out.”

Mouth opening in surprise, you stood there staring at him. You didn’t know how to react to that, but something in the way Jax was looking at you, after what he’d said about making things right, had you knowing that he was somehow behind Clay’s death. Jax had a hand in it.

“You…?”

You couldn’t even finish the thought. Half of you felt a wave of relief crash into you, your past few weeks of worrying now feeling like it was finally at an end. Clay wouldn’t be after you now, you wouldn’t have to worry about him. But the other half of you felt a little nauseous at the thought, knowing you somehow played a part in it, too.

“He had it comin’ for a long time, darlin’,” Jax assured you as if he could see what you were thinking just by the look in your eyes. “Got away with too much for too long, trust me on that. But now he’s not around to make threats. He can’t hurt you. You can come back to Charming. I’m giving you your job back at TM, you’ve got your apartment to come home to, and–”

“Jax, we still have a lot of fucking problems,” you pointed out, cutting him off. “And what about Gemma? She’s just going to let me come back to work after that?”

“Gemma didn’t fuckin’ know what Clay was doing,” Jax explained, shaking his head. “Not entirely, at least. And I’ve already talked to her. She knows if she wants to be in any part of her grandkid’s life, she’s going to have to knock her bullshit off.” He sighed, running a hand through his shaggy, messy hair. “And yeah, we did have problems. Most of them caused by two people who aren’t gonna be stickin’ their damn noses in our shit anymore, but we do have some shit to discuss.”

He jutted his chin towards the apartment behind you, his brows raising up onto his forehead. It was clear what he was asking–to come in and talk. Releasing a sigh, you knew you needed him to answer just one more question before you felt comfortable doing that.

“If you want to come in, I need an honest answer,” you told him, hoping this time it didn’t end in disaster again. “I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to keep bringing this up, either. Whatever you tell me, I’ll believe. But I want the truth, Jax.”

The look on his face made it apparent that he knew exactly what you were going to ask before you even did. But you needed to know to finally put this all to rest.

“Did you ever sleep with anyone all those times Clay kept telling me you were?” you asked him.

“Darlin’,” Jax said, taking the final few steps towards you. His hands raised, cradling your face between them as his thumbs gently brushed over your cheeks. “Baby, I love you. I haven’t slept with another girl since we got together. I swear on my goddamn life it was all bullshit meant to tear us apart. None of it was true.”

There was a moment where you held his stare, letting the words settle around you. Then your hand finally left its death grip on the door handle before both of your arms wrapped around him, pulling him into you. He tucked you in against himself and that feeling of safety you'd always known with him blanketed you instantly despite the past couple of weeks.

“I missed you so goddamn bad,” he said, burying his face against the top of your head, his arms nearly crushing you to himself. “Was so damn worried something had happened to you. Couldn't fucking sleep while you were gone. Kept thinking the worst.”

“Surprised you even found me,” you told him, voice muffled against his kutte.

He chuckled, his arms holding you somehow tighter against himself as you began walking him backwards into the apartment. The corners of your lips curled upwards at the sound.

“Hired a bounty hunter to find you,” he told you, a hint of a smile in his words. “Bobby’s ex-wife's new husband. That's how goddamn good you hid yourself.”

A surprised gasp flew out of you as you unburied your face from his chest and looked up at him. Jax met your gaze with a grin spread wide over his lips.

“You hired a legitimate bounty hunter to track me?” you asked him.

“Ain't a goddamn thing I wouldn't have done to find you, darlin’,” he told you. “I said I wouldn't stop until I did. And now that I have, I intend to apologize as much as I goddamn need to so you come back home. Go ahead and yell at me all you want, I deserve it.”

Part of you wanted to chew him out for how he'd let you down that night, but you figured that discussion could come later. As you buried your face back against his chest again, there was only one thing you wanted to do right now.

“I don't want to yell right now,” you whispered. “I just want you to hold me.”

His arms pressed you against his chest as he buried his face against the top of your head again. “I'm right here, baby,” he assured you. “And I ain't fucking things up again. With either of you.”

Jax slipped his shoes off by the front door of your apartment, both of his hands full of takeout bags. His messy hair was tucked beneath his black ‘Reaper Crew’ hat as he grinned at you where you lay curled up on your couch, wrapped up in one of your soft blankets. You'd been watching pointless television while waiting for him to come over, but now your eyes were focused on the bags in his hands, your sensitive nose due to the pregnancy picking up on the smell of food.

“Took me far longer than I'd have liked,” Jax said, stepping into your living room before triumphantly raising the bags in both of his hands, “but I got it all, baby.”

“I can smell that as much as I see it,” you told him, a smile drawing over your lips.

“The tacos you've been craving,” he began to list, making his way over to your coffee table, “cheese fries, onion rings, and fried rice from that place just outside of Charming. Along with a few other things, and some cookies Gemma baked because she said you'd been craving sweet shit.”

Pushing yourself carefully up into a sitting position on the couch, you watched as Jax began laying everything out on your coffee table. He'd begun pulling containers out of bags and the smell of so many different things combined should have smelled positively disgusting to you, but instead it had your stomach growling hungrily.

“Really?” you asked skeptically, arching a brow at him when he glanced over his shoulder at you. “Cookies from Gemma? Are you sure she didn't poison them?”

“You're pregnant, sweetheart,” he reminded you, a teasing grin on his face. “Pretty sure you've got a few months before you can start to question that.”

You hummed in response, scooting closer to him along the cushion until your thigh brushed against his. His focus fully shifted from the takeout in front of him to you, his hand resting on your knee and gently rubbing it.

“How you feeling right now, darlin’?” he asked. “Still nauseous?”

Shaking your head, you leaned into his side, finding comfort in having his presence once again. You'd been back in Charming for almost three weeks now after that entire situation with Clay firing you, threatening you, and running you out of town. After plenty of serious discussions and apologies from both Gemma and him, things had steadily returned to how they used to be between you and Jax. Even with the president patch on his chest, without Clay always trying to keep him from you, Jax was around as much as you let him be–which was almost always.

While you'd been surprised that Gemma had helped Jax and Opie get rid of her husband, when Jax had told you the truth behind their marriage–the time Clay had laid hands on her, the lies behind her back, their own slow growing apart–it had started to make sense. Especially when Jax had told you that Clay had killed his own father, something you'd never known, and that Gemma had always known that the day would come when Jax would seek his own justice for it. Her acceptance of the situation was easier to understand with Jax’s explanations, and her shift in behavior towards you began to grow even clearer.

“She loves family more than anything,” Jax had told you. “She’s not gonna pick Clay over me and a grandbaby, especially after him trying to get rid of her own flesh and blood like that. And she knows better than to sour the relationship with you now. Not if she wants to be grandma.”

“I'm just starving,” you answered him. “You timed your running around and getting back here just right for that weird window of me being able to stomach food.”

He squeezed your knee affectionately, a warm smile on his lips. “Good, cause I was trying to,” he told you. “Still fuckin’ weird, though. Your morning sickness operates on a schedule as strictly as you do.”

Your knee nudged his playfully at the jab. “Funny, babe.”

Turning your attention to the food he'd spread out, you grabbed an onion ring and tossed it into your mouth. Somehow it tasted twenty times better than usual, especially with how hungry you were, and you couldn't resist the faint moan as you chewed. Jax snorted beside you, heading turning over his shoulder as he chewed on a cheese fry.

“You need a few minutes alone with the onion rings, darlin’?” he joked. “Christ, you'd think I didn't do a good enough job getting you off earlier.”

You reached out, your hand hitting the bill of his hat and playfully knocking it off of his head. Jax chuckled in response as it fell to the floor by his feet while you grabbed another onion ring, shooting him a pointed look.

“Welcome to pregnancy hormones, Jax,” you said around the bite of onion ring. “Apparently it makes women insanely horny, especially in the second trimester.”

A devilish grin spread over his face before he popped the rest of the cheese fry into his mouth. “Yeah?” he asked as he chewed. “Gonna want my dick as much as you want onion rings?”

“More than that,” you answered, returning his grin.

He hummed in response, a mischievous glint in his eyes clearly telling you he'd be testing that out later. But then his expression softened as he finished chewing his food before he leaned over and placed a kiss along your temple. His warm lips lingered against your skin for a moment and you leaned in even closer to his body beside you on the couch.

“You staying here tonight?” you asked when he pulled away, watching him unwrap a burger from the slew of greasy food on the coffee table. “Or do you need to get back to the clubhouse? Thought I overheard Bobby saying something about managing a problem when I was in the office?”

Jax shook his head as he swallowed down the bite of burger he'd taken. You remembered overhearing something about a problem with the Triads when you'd been at Teller-Morrow this afternoon, something you probably weren't supposed to have heard.

“Let's just say I called in a favor for a favor,” he assured you. “The problem is dead and buried, so I'm all yours tonight, babe.” He turned towards you, taking a large bite of burger and chewing with a grin on his face. “And every night after that,” he said with his mouthful.

“And they call you Prince Charming, huh?” you teased him.

He patted his chest as he chewed, that crooked grin on his face. “I'm your knight in dull leather, darlin’,” he joked, mouth still full. “What can I say?”

With a soft laugh, you shook your head before reaching over and grabbing one of the tacos on the coffee table. Things definitely felt like they used to between you both and you couldn't have been happier to no longer have anyone meddling in your relationship. Especially since soon there'd be a third addition to this dynamic, and you loved how excited Jax had been about it, surprising even yourself.

Things were finally looking up for you three.

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uknowmesstuff · 23 days ago

Text

I HAVE NO WORDS FOR THIS JUST WOOW🥹❤️

Not Like Before Chapter Two

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 4.3k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; nurse!Reader, canon-divergence (no Abel or Thomas), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, girl dad Jax

a/n: Finally chapter two for all of y'all and I think you're going to like it. Dividers by the lovely @secretlysamcro.

With one arm hugging your clipboard to your chest and your other hand carrying a hospital-issued thirty-two ounce straw cup filled with ice water, you headed down one of the many halls in St. Thomas. You politely greeted another nurse as you passed her, though you couldn't quite recall her name. You'd only been working here for a month now, having moved out to Charming from the Fresno area just a few weeks ago because your previous hospital had unexpectedly downsized. You’d been desperate for a job and St. Thomas had been the first place to hire you nearly on the spot.

Continuing down the hallway, you hoped that no one would notice the chocolate pudding cup you'd snagged from the cafeteria, the one you were currently hiding behind your clipboard. It was meant for the last patient on your rounds for the night, an older gentleman who you'd quickly learned was a member of the local motorcycle club. Since you were new and the staff apparently disliked the Sons of Anarchy–whoever they were–you'd been the one tasked with the man's care each time you'd been here for the past two days. Not that you minded, of course. He really wasn't remotely as intimidating as everyone made him appear–which was why you were sneaking him pudding cups.

Finally approaching room 227, you reached out and attempted to knock on the door while simultaneously trying not to spill any water from the cup in your hand. You heard Mr. Telford's distinct, thick Scottish accent greeting you in return as he called out from behind it. Struggling to grab onto the handle one-handed while holding the cup, you eventually managed to use your fingertips to push down hard enough to unlatch the door before nudging it the rest of the way with your foot. As it swung open into the room, you found Mr. Telford laying in his bed with the television quietly playing.

“Ya need some help there, lass?” he called over, one dark brow raising in amusement as he eyed you. “Seems ya got your hands full. Y’know, ya coulda left that useless jug o’ water behind.”

Laughing softly as you stepped into the room, you paused long enough to kick the door shut after yourself. Then you proceeded to make your way over to his bedside, holding out the large cup of ice water to him.

“You know the deal, Mr. Telford,” you reminded him.

He eyed you skeptically in return before unwillingly leaning forward and taking the cup from your hand. With a triumphant smile, you reached behind your clipboard and grabbed the pudding cup you'd been hiding before holding it up for him to see. His eyes lit up just before his hand darted out for it, but you abruptly pulled it away and shot him a stern look.

“Ah ah, not so fast. You need to drink at least eight ounces of that cup first,” you ordered, gesturing your head at the water you'd brought. “That was our deal. You're severely dehydrated, Mr. Telford. Don't think you want us to keep pushing fluids in an IV on you for your entire stay, do you?”

He scoffed dramatically as his hand fell back to his side on the bed. You already knew he hated being hooked up to the bag and needing to bring it with him everytime he took a piss. He'd spent your entire shift yesterday telling you all about it.

“C'mon, sweetheart,” he complained. “D'ya really need to deprive me of the one bit of happiness I got in here? Just gimme the pudding.”

“You're being discharged in a few more days, Mr. Telford,” you replied, the firm expression remaining. “I don't think depriving you of an extra pudding cup is going to do much damage to your mental health.”

“Aye,” he muttered, reluctantly raising the straw to his lips. “Ya don't play fair.”

Mr. Telford reluctantly began to drink his water and your attention shifted to the main reason you were here. Beginning your routine checkup, you started with taking his temperature and his blood pressure. While you worked, you caught the way his eyes kept returning to the little dessert you'd stolen from the cafeteria on your way here. You’d set it on the bedside tray just out of his reach.

After a few minutes of your usual routine, doling out some medication for the pain in his leg from the injury he'd sustained in his motorcycle accident, you focused back on the cup of water in his hands. He was frowning as he drank the liquid down through the straw, the sight causing your lips to twitch as you fought back a smile. But you were happy to see that he'd managed to guzzle down ten ounces while you'd been busy, making it worth your effort to have stolen him some extra sugar just to get him to drink his water.

Sliding the straw out of his mouth, he looked expectantly up at you from his place on the bed. “Ya done torturing me now?” he asked. “Cause I feel like you're just tryin’ to make me piss myself, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes at the overdramatics. “God forbid you drink the liquid our bodies actually need to survive,” you teased.

Leaning over, you grabbed the bedside table with the pudding cup and spoon sitting atop it and wheeled it closer to his bed. He was quick to set the water down on it, grinning as he snatched the pudding cup before tearing off the lid. How anyone here was afraid to handle him as their patient out of fear was beyond you.

“We've got shift change now,” you told him, picking up your clipboard from the nearby counter and hugging it to your chest. “So you'll be seeing Sarah again tonight. I'm off in a few minutes.”

Mr. Telford groaned, lowering his pudding cup to his lap as he swallowed down a spoonful of the dessert. “Oh c'mon, sweetheart. Ya really gonna just leave me with her like that?”

“Sarah isn't so bad,” you told him. “She's just–”

“Got a stick up her arse,” he finished.

Biting your lip, you shook your head as you tried not to laugh. Sarah certainly was incredibly anal about the rules and tended to walk around as if she did have a stick up her ass, but you couldn't technically stand here and openly agree with a rude comment directed at your co-worker.

“I was going to say serious,” you corrected.

“Can't ya stay a bit longer?” he begged, the pudding cup temporarily forgotten in his lap. “You’re my favorite nurse. No one else has a sense of goddamn humor in this hospital. And I know I'm your favorite patient.”

He wasn’t wrong. In the few weeks you’d been working at this small hospital in Charming, he’d certainly been the most entertaining patient you’d had come in to stay. Even if he openly flirted with you and used vulgar language, you enjoyed your little chats with him. And the bribes to get him to stay hydrated.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Telford, it doesn't work like that,” you informed him. “My shift is ending and I need to get my daughter from the daycare downstairs and get home. I promised her a Disney princess night, and I can assure you that hell hath no fury like a four year old girl when you break a promise. But you'll see me again in the morning.”

Turning away from the bed, you made your way over to the door of his hospital room. The daycare on the main floor was closing in approximately ten minutes, meaning you'd need to pick up Emilia before then. You’d been running late a week ago because of some lab results you’d been waiting on for a patient, and the fear of them removing her from the program because you couldn’t regularly be on time always lingered at the forefront of your mind. It was far too convenient and budget-saving to have free childcare right at your own workplace, and you had zero intention of ruining that.

“Got a daughter, do ya?” Mr. Telford asked curiously, scooping another spoonful of pudding up from the cup. “Suppose that makes sense. ‘Course a pretty girl like you’d be taken.”

Stopping just in front of the door, your brows furrowed at his comment. You turned partially towards him again, head tilting curiously to the side. “Taken?” you questioned.

He slid the spoon out of his mouth before gesturing it across the room at you. “Aye. Imagine ya got a husband to go with that daughter of yours. Figures a pretty girl like you wouldn’t be single, sweetheart. No wonder you’re immune to my charms.”

A smile spread over your lips at his comment, a faint laugh slipping out of you in response. You shook your head as you turned around more fully to face him, both of your arms still hugging your clipboard to your chest.

“There’s no husband, Mr. Telford,” you told him. “Just me and my girl. Being a single mom is what keeps me immune to anyone’s charm.”

Across the room, he swallowed down another spoonful of chocolate pudding as a look of surprise washed over his features. “Single mother, eh?” he questioned. “Ya got a deadbeat father ya want me to kick the ass of for ya?”

The smile on your lips faded a little at the question before you shook your head again. “No,” you answered. “He’s just…not around. But I appreciate the offer, Mr. Telford.”

His hand not holding the pudding cup rose up from the bed as he waved it dismissively in the air at you. “Stop with the mister bullshit, sweetheart,” he replied. “Told ya to call me Chibs. That’s what everyone else calls me. That formal shit ain’t for me.”

Nodding at his request, you turned back around towards the hospital room door. You opened it only to be met with the sound of a rowdy group coming from around the corner of a nearby hallway. Probably visitors for Chibs considering the only people who made this much noise in the hospital, from your few weeks experience here, were the Sons.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Chibs,” you said, emphasizing the name as you glanced over your shoulder at him. “Sounds like you’ve got some visitors incoming. But make sure you drink that water while I'm gone. I’ll know if you don’t.”

“Aye, yes ma'am,” he called out behind you.

Grinning, you shut the door behind yourself as you stepped out into the hallway again. At the sound of a booming laugh and a hearty ‘shut the hell up, man,’ you glanced over your shoulder. You caught the back of one of the leather kuttes and a blonde head of hair walking backwards around the corner. You didn’t have time to give a second thought to the transport bed they’d hijacked before you turned, making your way down the opposite end of the hall and towards the locker rooms. You needed to change out of your scrubs quickly before picking up Emilia at the hospital daycare.

Though as you made your way down the hallway, the loud group still behind you, you couldn't shake that odd feeling in the back of your mind at the sight of that kutte. You’d very briefly known a man who’d worn something like that–Emilia’s father.

Jax grinned as he turned the corner, laughing at Tig pushing a hungover Bobby along the corridor on a transport bed. They'd gotten a few dirty looks as they made their way around the hospital on their way to visit Chibs, but none of the staff ever had the balls to kick them out or tell them off. Usually they settled for sending them disapproving glares which never accomplished anything.

As his focus shifted in front of himself, looking for Chibs' room, his attention caught onto the back of a nurse in teal scrubs making her way down the hall. His laughter gradually subsided at the sight of her, his heart pounding a bit harder like it had done a few nights ago when he'd thought he'd seen you at the clubhouse party.

But he knew it wasn't you. You were just on his mind again, that's all.

Jax and the guys reached Chibs’ room and he let all thoughts of you fade away as he pushed the door open. His eyes immediately caught the half-finished pudding cup in Chibs’ hands as he stepped inside, making a face at his Sergeant at Arms. Jax gestured a hand at the pudding cup as he sauntered further into the room.

“Enjoyin’ your dessert, brother?” he teased.

“Ya don't know the tortures I had to endure just to get it, Jackie boy,” he replied, grinning at the sight of the Sons making their usual dramatic appearance. “The pretty nurse bribes me to drink water for anythin’ good to eat in this place.”

“The horror,” Jax shot back sarcastically, crossing the room and hopping up onto a nearby counter. “Least you get something pretty to look at. I'm over here stuck with these jackasses all day.”

Jax jutted his chin across the room and Chibs’ gaze followed. Tig and Juice were attempting to find a way to push the hospital bed with Bobby on it into the room, but the two dumbasses couldn't seem to work together just to fit it through the door. Meanwhile, Bobby was groaning at the noise and looking worse for wear.

“Aye, true,” Chibs relented. “Still, I'd rather be outta this place.”

“Don't blame you, man,” Jax agreed, settling onto the counter more comfortably as he ignored the other guys still struggling at the door. “How's the leg doin’?”

Chibs glanced down at his leg, shifting it along the hospital bed. The corner of his lips twitched before he shrugged a shoulder.

“‘S'not so bad,” he answered. “Supposed to stay off the bike for a couple o’ weeks.” He looked back over at Jax, a grin on his face as he scooped up another spoonful of pudding. “Not gonna fuckin’ follow those orders, though. Should be fine in a few days.”

Jax nodded as he looked back over at the guys. Tig and Juice were arguing over how to turn the bed to fit it through the door now as a few nurses passed by in the hall. They openly scowled at the men before they hurried on further down the hallway. Jax huffed in amusement, shaking his head at the idiots. But then his mind shifted back to the nurse he'd seen walking down the hall a minute ago, the one who’d clearly just left this room. His jaw tightened as that odd feeling twisted at his insides.

Why the fuck were you on his mind so much this week?

“Ya seem troubled, Jackie,” Chibs pointed out, his words muffled around his mouthful of pudding.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he focused back on Chibs laying in his hospital bed. Jax's foot started to anxiously shake as he watched him set the empty cup of pudding onto the bedside table. He’d opened up to Opie about you the other night, but there was no way in hell he’d tell any of the other guys. He’d sound like the biggest, softest fucking bastard for thinking about some hookup from five years ago, continually thinking he kept seeing her places lately.

“I'm good, man,” he assured him. “It's nothin’ important. Nothin’ to do with the club.”

A slow grin gradually spread across Chibs' face at Jax’s quick dismissal. The corners of Jax’s lips curved downwards at the sight, already getting a feeling he wasn't going to like where this was going.

“Girl trouble, Jackie?” he teased. “That what got ya lookin’ like that? Shit, I really have missed a lot sittin’ ‘round in here the last few days.”

“I am not havin’ girl trouble,” he sharply countered, eyes narrowing. “Just got some personal bullshit on my mind, alright? Don't worry about it.”

“If ya say so,” Chibs replied, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Don't believe ya, though. Got that look about ya.”

“Don't have any look about me, Chibs,” he shot back. Eyes flying across the room, he felt his patience thinning as he watched Tig and Juice still bickering. “Would you two morons shut the fuck up already? Just help him outta the goddamn bed and into a chair. Christ.”

His sharp comment cut through the noise in the hospital room, causing both Tig and Juice to finally quiet as they looked over at him. From his place on the transport bed, Bobby chuckled.

“Someone's got their panties in a twist,” he teasingly muttered out.

“Can we paint my nails?”

Slipping past the automatic hospital doors, you stepped outside into the parking lot. Emilia’s small hand was wrapped around yours as you led her through the lot towards your car. The purple princess dress she’d picked out for the day gently swished around her small legs with each step.

“Yes, we can paint your nails,” you assured her. “I did promise you a princess night.”

“With mac and cheese and mangoes?” she questioned, tilting her head to look up at you.

Laughing lightly as you paused in the parking lot, making sure no cars were coming before you crossed to the next row of cars, you nodded your head. Your daughter’s two favorite foods–mac and cheese and mangoes. You supposed there were weirder combinations she could have developed a taste for, though.

“Yes, bunny,” you replied. “With mac and cheese and mangoes.”

“Can I have the black, sparkly nail polish?” she asked, excitement creeping into her voice. “Please?”

“If that’s what you want,” you answered. “Then yes, we can do the black, sparkly polish tonight. And whatever Disney movie you want to watch before bed.”

As you continued guiding her down the row of cars, you caught sight of a handful of motorcycles parked a few spaces away from your own car. Emilia’s delighted squeal as she tugged on your hand told you that she’d spotted them at the same moment you did. The excited noise she’d emitted had caught the attention of an older, dark-haired woman who was currently talking to an older balding gentleman standing beside the few parked bikes, both of them now looking over at you and your daughter. Trying to ignore their sudden attention as you stopped beside your SUV, you began to unlock the car as your daughter’s wide eyes remained glued to the few black bikes.

“Mama, look!” Em shouted, releasing your hand to point over at the motorcycles. “Harleys!”

“Yes, bunny,” you agreed, opening the car door. Not wanting to draw the wrong attention because you assumed those bikes belonged to that local motorcycle club, you tried to shift her focus. “Let’s get in the car so we can head home and get started on dinner, yeah?”

Completely ignoring you, Em stepped around your leg and looked at the woman and the man still standing beside the bikes watching the pair of you. Her small head tilted to the side in curiosity, and you knew what was coming before she’d even opened her mouth. Desperately, you wished you could just scoop her in your arms and stick her in the car seat before she could address them. But being four, she was much too big for you to do that now, and it would have only resulted in a massive meltdown.

“Are those yours?” she called out.

Almost instantly you shot your daughter a firm look of warning–one she ignored. How many damn times had you talked to her about speaking to strangers? Yet it never seemed to stick with her. And as much as you didn’t mind treating a member of the club at your place of work, it was an entirely different matter for your daughter to be addressing those possibly affiliated with it. You didn’t know these people at all, you had no idea what they did or how dangerous they might be.

“Em,” you hissed quietly. “In the car.”

“They’re my son and his friends’ bikes,” the older woman called over. “Why? You into motorcycles, sweetie?”

The surprising kindness in her voice caused you to glance back at the older woman, noticing the way she’d taken a few steps in your direction with her attention fixed on your daughter. The older man she had been talking to followed quietly behind her in the lot, sending you and your daughter a friendly smile that didn’t marginally ease your tension.

“I love motorcycles,” your daughter answered, happily twirling her dress from side to side.

She also loved attention.

“Do you now?” the older woman asked, a curious look flashing in her eyes. “Don't often see girls your age interested in them.”

“Harleys are my favorite,” she told her. “I named my doggy Harley.”

The older woman’s brow gradually raised onto her forehead, a smile creeping onto her face. “Is that right?” she asked slowly. “Not everyday you meet a little girl dressed like a princess who can spot a Harley, either.”

Gradually, the woman’s eyes shifted from your daughter over to you, scanning your face closely. You reached a hand out, protectively resting it against Emilia’s shoulder before pulling her closer to your side. But Emilia was looking far too pleased with herself to have caught the tension radiating off of you, though the dark-haired woman noticed it.

“Haven’t seen you around Charming before,” she pointed out, twirling the pair of sunglasses in her hand. “You new here?”

“Yes,” you answered, uncertain what to make of the question. It seemed innocent enough. “Just moved here a month ago.”

“You work here?” she questioned next, tilting her head back towards the hospital.

“Mama is a nurse,” Em piped up, smiling wide at the woman. “She helps people feel better.”

The woman hummed thoughtfully in response to your daughter’s words, eyeing you closely like she was sizing you up. The long pause made you uncomfortable, as if she was debating on whether you were a threat or not. That probing stare of hers had your hand tightening on Em’s shoulder until she finally took a step back, slipping the sunglasses onto her face.

“Welcome to Charming then, sweetheart,” she said before gesturing a hand at Emilia beside you. “If your daughter likes bikes that much, you should bring her to our auto shop. Teller-Morrow Automotive. I’m sure the boys wouldn’t mind letting her look at their Harleys for a bit.”

The woman turned and began to make her way towards the hospital without another backwards glance in your direction. The man who’d been with her offered you both a quiet and friendly ‘have a nice day’ before he followed after her.

Emilia descended on you once the pair were across the lot, her mind finally processing what the woman had just suggested. She soon began jumping up and down with wide eyes, making it even more difficult for you to wrangle her into the backseat of your car and into her car seat. Because she’d heard that woman invite her to a garage to look at motorcycles–both things which just happened to be her odd areas of interest.

“Can we go, mama?” she asked, bouncing up and down in the car seat. “Please, please, please?”

She kept squirming and making it near impossible to buckle her into the seat as you silently cursed that woman for mentioning the auto shop. Your daughter loved when you needed to take the car in for an oil change because she always talked the poor mechanic’s ear off with her questions. Where her love of cars and motorcycles came from was an absolute mystery to you, but you were aware that the garage the woman had just mentioned was indeed related to that local MC. And you were not about to roll up to it with your four year old like it was some children’s museum.

“I don’t know, bunny,” you replied, finally getting her into the seat. “Let’s just get home for princess night, yeah? We’ve got sparkly black nail polish calling your name.”

And thankfully, that worked to distract her for now.

“Can I paint Harley’s nails?” she asked, kicking her legs back and forth in her seat as you finally began to buckle her in. “He might like yellow polish.”

Sighing, you shook your head at your daughter. You were grateful that this evening's events would take her mind off of motorcycles and that garage, at least.

“No, bunny,” you told her for the hundredth time. “You know we don’t paint the dog’s nails.”

She pouted back at you when you'd finally managed to buckle her into her car seat, but you were used to that technique of hers. You ignored the look and shut the door before stepping over to the driver’s side, climbing in and putting on your own seatbelt. As you started up your car, you glanced out of the window at the couple of motorcycles sitting parked nearby. Briefly, that kutte you’d seen earlier in the hospital hallway flashed through your mind just before the sound of his voice ran through it next.

But then you quickly shook off the thought, focused on reversing the car and getting home. You had mac and cheese to make and mangoes to cut up for your daughter’s favorite meal. You highly doubted it was his motorcycle club anyway. The odds of that were incredibly slim to none.

228 notes · View notes

uknowmesstuff · 29 days ago

Text

Sooo good, as always!! I love this so much, getting to know a little bit in advance❤️❤️❤️

Not Like Before Chapter One

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 3.7k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; nurse!Reader, canon-divergence (no Abel or Thomas), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, girl dad Jax

a/n: Since y'all devoured the first part and seem incredibly into this series already, I figured I'd give y'all the first real chapter because I've got like six other Jax fic drafts sitting around now! Also, don't be like Ope and drive when you've been drinking. Dividers by the lovely @secretlysamcro.

Between the loud music and the drunken shouting of everyone over it, the noise mixed with the haze of cigarette smoke lingering in the air made the clubhouse feel suffocating tonight. Throwing back the rest of his beer, Jax couldn't take it anymore. Everything was giving him a damn headache after how long he’d been on the road for the past couple of days, and for some goddamn reason, he didn’t really feel like partying tonight. All he wanted was to drink a few beers and unwind from the long run, oddly not craving the usual wild chaos that came with the club.

“Gonna go have a smoke,” Jax told Opie as he slipped off the bar stool. “Too fuckin’ loud in here.”

“I'll join you, brother,” Opie said. “Need to get back to Lyla and the kids soon, anyway. Been gone all weekend.”

Opie raised his glass to his lips, downing the rest of his drink. Jax nodded at him before turning, heading straight for the clubhouse door. As Jax pushed it open and stepped out into the lot, Opie caught up and followed right behind him out into the cool night.

Unfortunately, the lot outside was just as loud as it had been inside with how many people had come out to the party tonight. Maneuvering his way around friends of the club and a handful of croweaters, all of which were completely wasted by this point, Jax led Opie further away from the few picnic tables the group outside was drinking around. Some of the guys were sitting on the tables and smoking a cigarette, while a couple of the girls looked like they’d already passed out face down on the surface of it from all the booze and who knew what else.

Tonight was supposed to be a night of celebration for the Sons’. They had just returned from a successful run delivering quite a few high end assault rifles to a buyer up near Oregon, and thankfully, they'd completed the run with minimal issues. The only problem they’d encountered was Chibs’ fall from his bike, and that had been due to some asshole just outside of Charming not paying attention to the road and nothing related to club business. Unfortunately for Chibs, that meant he was missing the party tonight while he spent a few days recovering at St. Thomas.

As they walked, Jax’s gaze skimmed over a few of the drunken girls that were stumbling over themselves in the parking lot, unable to refrain from a small grin slipping onto his lips as he eyed all the bits of skin revealed by their short, tight outfits. When one of the girls looked over and caught his eye, he shot her a wink. Behind him, Opie chuckled and shook his head at the way the girl had sent Jax a suggestive look in return.

“Thought you wanted a smoke and to get away from all the damn noise,” Opie commented, still following after Jax. “If you've got other plans for while you're out here, I don't wanna be around for them.”

“Relax, Ope,” Jax replied, leaning against the wall of the clubhouse further away from the group. Slipping his hand into the inside of his kutte, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes. “Not lookin’ for that right now. They're a little too drunk for my liking, anyway. I just like seeing the looks on their faces when I tease ‘em a little.”

He pulled a cigarette out of the pack, slipping it between his lips as he smirked at his best friend. Pocketing the pack back inside of his kutte, Jax pulled out his lighter next. As he flipped it open, raising the flame to the tip of his cigarette, he saw Opie doing the same from the corner of his eye.

“Some things never change,” Opie mumbled around his cigarette.

Taking a drag off his once it was lit, Jax returned the lighter to his kutte before leaning his head back against the clubhouse behind him, blowing the smoke up into the night sky. His ass was killing him from that long ride out to Oregon and back on his bike, especially since they'd only just returned to Charming this afternoon.

“Fucking tired as shit,” Opie muttered beside him. “Can't believe we used to love those long fuckin’ runs when we were younger.”

Jax nodded his head against the cement structure behind him, chuckling as he remembered the early years when he and Ope had just been prospects and then newly patched members. Long runs meant the freedom of the open road and a change of scenery from Charming for a bit. And sometimes, if they weren't that busy or things were running behind, it also meant stopping somewhere for a bit to blow off steam at a bar or crash at a motel once the job was done before they needed to head back. And those nights had always led to some wild stories.

“We were young,” Jax pointed out. “Everything we did with the club felt twenty times more badass back then. Now?” He brought his cigarette back up to his lips, taking another drag from it. Expelling the smoke a moment later, he glanced at Opie beside him, feeling the weight of his own words. “We got more responsibility. Can't just piss around and have fun like we used to.”

“Got that right,” Opie replied. He shot Jax a grin before teasingly adding, “President.”

“Hey, you're the VP now, brother,” Jax reminded him, gesturing his smoke at Opie leaning against the wall beside him. “We ain't those little shitheads we used to be anymore.”

Opie hummed in response, that grin still on his face. “Dunno man, that's debatable when it comes to you.”

Jax’s hand darted out beside him, lightly smacking Opie on the shoulder. “Shut up, smartass,” he playfully shot back.

Despite the drunken shouting from the others that were outside drinking near the picnic tables, the noise carrying on a faint breeze, a comfortable silence settled around both men as they smoked. Jax continued to stare at the night sky above him, lost in thoughts like he often was. He was grateful to be finished with the run, and even more grateful that there hadn’t been any firefights on the ride. He'd expected someone to get pissed about that many Sons riding past their territory, but somehow they’d managed a peaceful trip–which had been unexpected but welcome.

“Somethin’ on your mind?” Opie asked.

“Just shit from the day,” he answered half-heartedly, still staring up at the blackened sky. “Surprised shit went as smooth as it did.”

“Chibs might disagree,” Opie quipped back.

With a roll of his eyes, Jax’s focus shifted away from the sky and back on Opie smoking next to him. He could tell his best friend already had a couple of drinks tonight judging by the wide grin that kept reappearing on his generally stoic face. He’d been about to make a comment in response, but even more noise from the other side of the lot inevitably drew Jax’s attention back over towards the commotion. A handful of women had just stepped out of the clubhouse with Tig and Happy, Jax’s eyes briefly drifting over to the group. That in itself wasn’t that strange of a sight, but just as Jax had begun to look away, his eyes immediately darted back towards them.

Because no, he hadn’t really just seen who he thought he had, had he?

Pushing off the wall, he craned his neck around Opie as his eyes narrowed in an attempt to get a better look, his hand holding his cigarette dropping to his side. There was no fucking way in hell that was you, right?

“What?” Opie asked, concern etched on his face as he turned to follow Jax’s gaze. “What’re you lookin’ at?”

Jax stared across the lot for a bit longer, his eyes fixed on a girl that was half-hidden behind a few other people. He hadn’t realized that he’d been holding his breath until the blonde girl blocking who he thought was you had stumbled backwards. That’s when he got a better view of the woman he’d mistaken for the one he'd thought he'd seen.

Because no, of course that wasn’t you. Why the fuck would you ever just appear at a Sons’ party out of nowhere? You didn’t even live in Charming. At least, not when he'd met you.

“Jax?”

Opie’s voice and his own disappointment had him tearing his eyes away from the woman who absolutely wasn’t the one he’d been hoping to see. With a shake of his head, he turned his back to the group and drew his cigarette up to his lips, taking a particularly deep drag to ease the tension suddenly in his body.

Why the fuck had he been so damn hopeful? How the fuck were you still in his head after all of this time?

“Dude, what the hell is goin’ on with you?” Opie pressed further. “You look like you just saw a goddamn ghost or something. The hell was that?”

“Nothin’,” Jax muttered. “Don’t worry about it.”

Opie scoffed harshly at Jax’s dismissal, his head leaning back against the clubhouse. Jax could feel his best friend’s eyes on the side of his face, but that only made him more determined not to look at him.

“Nah, brother,” Opie countered, clearly not buying it. “That wasn’t nothin’. Who’d you think you just saw? C’mon, tell me.”

His fingers pinched tight around his cigarette at the question. Why the fuck was he getting so frustrated? Why did any of this matter?

“Just a girl,” Jax muttered, still avoiding Opie's eyes. “No one important.”

“Uh huh. I’m calling bullshit,” Opie shot back. “No girl gets you doin’ a damn double take like that. Who the fuck did you think it was, man?”

A long, irritated sigh fell out of Jax, his left hand reaching up and running across his forehead. You were already on his mind again. What the fuck did it really matter if he told Opie about you? It's not like you'd ever see each other again–something he should have already accepted a long fucking time ago.

Shoulders dropping in defeat, Jax stepped back over beside Opie and returned to his place leaning against the wall. He took a deep breath, flicking some ash off the tip of his cigarette as he tried to gather his thoughts.

“Few years back we had a run,” Jax began, still unable to look Opie in the eyes with how goddamn stupid he was about to sound. “Took us out to San Bernardino and the SAMDINO charter. Was a long ass trip because some shit went down while we were out, so we crashed at that shitty motel for the night on our way back.”

Opie nodded slowly as he expelled a trail of smoke from his lips. “Yeah, I remember that,” he mused. “Was a long time ago. That was the night Tig got so wasted we left him outside his motel room passed out. Somehow still woke up the next morning to find him with his face buried in a hooker's pussy.”

An amused snort fell out of Jax at that particular memory. The guys had begun to reassemble in the motel parking lot after a not very restful night, and yet even wasted and locked out of his room, Tig still had managed to get some ass.

“Yeah, that night,” Jax agreed, the smile on his lips slowly fading to something nostalgic as his thoughts shifted back to you. “That was the night I hooked up with some girl.”

“You always hook up with some girl,” Opie pointed out flatly.

Jax frowned as he raised the cigarette to his lips, inhaling the smoke as your face drifted through his mind. It had been five years since that night he’d had with you, and while the image in his mind had eventually grown a bit blurry, he'd never forgotten you. For whatever goddamn reason, you were the one of hundreds who'd stuck with him ever since the night he'd been with you. The only one who’d made him feel something. The one who’s face sometimes surfaced in his mind when he was inside of other girls like you were haunting him.

“Yeah, I do,” Jax said. “But normally I take a girl to bed, get off, and move on. Just a one time thing that means nothing. I never think about them after the fact.”

Opie's head turned, shifting against the wall as he looked over at Jax. His slightly glazed eyes had narrowed marginally in curiosity at him, as if his sluggish mind was struggling to process what Jax was really saying through the alcohol he’d drank.

“Brother,” Opie began slowly, a look of disbelief gradually washing over his features. “Are you telling me you liked this girl? Am I hearing this right?”

Jax shrugged as he took a last drag of his cigarette before dropping it to the pavement and stomping it out. Roughly blowing out the smoke, Jax felt frustrated with himself at the question. He’d often asked himself the same damn thing, but it wasn’t like the answer really mattered at this point.

“I don't fucking know, Ope,” Jax replied. “All I know is, I haven't stopped thinking about her. Been five goddamn years and sometimes I'll just remember her outta nowhere thinking I see her around. Or sometimes I see her face when I’m with another girl. I don’t even know why, it doesn’t make any sense. Never fuckin’ thought about a girl after the fact even once. But her?”

Jax shook his head, his eyes darting past Opie and over towards the rowdy group outside. He found the girl he'd mistaken for you, his frown deepening on his face as he watched her take a deep pull off of her beer. She definitely wasn't you and for some reason that pissed him off even though he knew it was a fucking ridiculous thing to be pissed about.

“You liked her.”

Jax’s attention returned to Opie, noticing how what his best friend had said hadn’t been a question but rather a statement. And maybe he was right, but what the hell did it matter at this point?

“Fuck, maybe,” Jax conceded. “Maybe I did. But I barely fucking knew her. And she lives hours away from Charming–or she did at the time, five goddamn years ago. Don't even remember her name. I just–”

He cut himself off before he could look like a jackass in front of Opie by finishing that thought. He didn't remember your name, but he remembered the way your laugh made his heart swell, and how your lips tasted like vanilla from whatever lip balm you’d put on them. He remembered how soft your hands felt running over his skin when you’d traced his tattoos, and the way you moaned against his neck when you'd came–and you'd came repeatedly while he'd been with you. Jax still remembered how goddamn good you felt when he sunk into you the few times he had that night, your pussy tight and perfect in a way that none of the other girls he’d been with ever felt like. A perfect fit–something that sounded so goddamn stupid even to his own mind.

And he remembered the intense, strange pull he'd felt towards you from the moment his eyes locked on yours at the bar. That odd connection he felt in the way you’d kissed him, the one which had made it difficult for him to slip out of your bed when you'd accidentally fallen asleep after that fourth round of sex. He remembered hating the way he'd gently had to slip out from under your soft, warm, naked body, his eyes fixed on your sleeping form in bed as he quickly dressed himself. He'd carefully covered you in your bed sheets before he'd quietly left your apartment, never to see you again.

“I remember her telling me she didn't do one night stands,” Jax eventually said, finishing his thought. “That she never had before.”

A small smile played across his lips as he remembered all those times you’d leaned over next to him at the bar, clearly buzzed as you whispered to him that you'd never slept with a stranger before. He recalled the way you'd giggled and nodded your head when he’d asked if you were considering it. When you'd agreed to follow him outside while he had a smoke, he’d been pleased to know you were as intrigued by him as he was by you. Then you’d shocked him when you’d been the one to take the cigarette from between his fingers and toss it away before grabbing him and kissing him like you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Told me that about twenty times,” he added with a chuckle, catching the little grin on Opie's face as he listened to Jax recall the night. “It was cute. She wasn’t like any of the girls that we usually see around here.”

Jax jutted his chin in the direction of the group still drinking by the picnic tables to make his point, a somber look in his eyes. He’d often wondered about you over the years despite how hard he’d tried not to think of you. He wondered if you’d ever thought about him and that night you’d had together.

“Sex that good?” Opie asked curiously, studying the look in Jax’s eyes. “That why she stood out?”

Shaking his head at the question, Jax’s gaze shifted down to his hands, fiddling with one of his rings. “The sex was amazing, Ope,” he admitted before shaking his head. “I mean, fuck, we went at it a few times that night. Couldn’t seem to get enough of each other. But it’s not the only reason why she sometimes crosses my mind.” His tongue slipped out, wetting his lips as he remembered that odd feeling he’d gotten around you whenever you’d smiled at him. “There was just…something about her, y’know? Like I just felt somethin’ with her that I hadn’t really felt with anyone before. Not since…”

A look of understanding crossed Opie’s face as he nodded, clearly catching what had been left unspoken when Jax’s words trailed off. He finished off his own cigarette before tossing it to the pavement, stomping it out beneath his shoe.

“Not since Tara?” he asked.

Jax’s head fell back against the cement of the clubhouse behind him, a familiar ache hitting him in the chest. “Yeah,” he answered quietly. “Not since Tara.”

The sounds of laughter and drunken shouting increased, filling the night air around them. He hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that truth, that there was something about you that had been more than just an urge to scratch an itch that night. You were an unexpected blip in the timeline of Jax’s life–two people who probably never should’ve met but did. And you’d unknowingly left an unexpected vanilla-flavored, citrus-scented mark on his life.

“But it don’t matter anyway,” he muttered bitterly, still staring up at the dark sky. “Never gonna see her again. Kinda the point of just one night with someone. Doubt she’s ever even thought about me since.”

“What makes you say that?” Opie questioned curiously.

“Because I remember her telling me that she’d only gone out that night ‘cause she’d been stressed with her job or somethin’,” Jax told him, his attention shifting over to the row of parked motorcycles across the lot. “Don’t remember much about the why, but I was well aware that she was using me for an escape just as much as I was doing the same with her.”

“Yet here you are,” Opie replied, a teasing grin on his lips, “thinking about the nameless girl with the golden pussy five years later. Who’s to say you haven’t crossed her mind?”

Pushing himself off the wall, Jax scoffed bitterly at the thought. Why the hell would a girl like you ever fucking think about the biker you spent one night with? Why the fuck was he even thinking about you again? The last time you'd crossed his mind had been months ago, and it was only because the girl he’d hooked up with that night had kissed him and tasted like cheap cherry chapstick mixed with alcohol. He’d missed the taste of vanilla and you.

“Doubt it, brother,” Jax bitterly grumbled, mood souring. “She’s just some girl I fucked, doesn’t matter. I’m gonna go grab another beer. You comin’?”

Opie stared at Jax, his slightly bloodshot eyes studying his face like he might say more about you, but he didn’t. Instead he shook his head and pushed off the wall.

“Nah, brother,” he replied. “Gotta get back to Lyla and the kids. Don't wanna leave her on her own longer than I already have this weekend.”

Disappointment filled Jax, but he nodded anyway. He knew Opie had responsibilities of his own, others in his life to worry about. Unlike Jax, who'd intentionally remained single and childless, not wanting to be tied down even if some nights he felt a stifling loneliness.

Like tonight.

“You good to get home?” Jax asked, raising a brow at him. “Maybe you should have a prospect drive you.”

“Only had a couple drinks,” Opie replied, shrugging a shoulder. “Not really feeling the alcohol. Mostly just really fucking tired, man.”

“Yeah, alright,” Jax replied, shoving down all of his previous thoughts. “I'll see you tomorrow, Ope. Get back safe.”

Opie nodded in a way of a goodbye before heading over to the row of motorcycles and climbing onto his bike. Without having much else to do, Jax turned and began walking back towards the clubhouse. He figured he'd have another beer and then crash in his room here tonight. It wasn’t like he had any reason to get back to his empty home instead, there wasn’t anyone waiting for him.

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uknowmesstuff · 30 days ago

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Jax and reader have met but they don’t know yet omg🥹❤️

Letters from the Outside 4:| Visitation

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.4k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

a/n: This installment is a tiny bit different than what we've seen so far and I think y'all are going to like it... Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

series tag list: @kmc1989 @callmesev @secretlysamcro @steviebbboi @anonymouse1807 @bonnyclydecat @chloe-skywalker @kaydallas21 @sarraa-26 @uknowmesstuff @mmarysha @orymgraves

Sitting at the metal table, your index finger had been absently tapping along the surface for the past ten minutes as you'd waited for the Stockton prison guard to bring your brother into the visitation room. It smelled like bleach and sweat in here, the pungent scent something that always took a few minutes to get accustomed to again whenever you came out to see your brother.

While you’d been waiting, you'd noticed that there were a few more people here than usual. Normally when you came out during morning visitation hours, there were about half this many other visitors in the room. But considering where you were right now, you tried your best to prevent your gaze from wandering around to the different tables too much. Making eye contact with the wrong person could easily turn into a bad idea here–something you didn't need your brother to tell you.

But admittedly today it was difficult to keep your eyes to yourself and ignore the dark-haired woman sitting with a young, babbling child in her lap a few tables away from you. In all your time visiting Grim–the street name your brother was known by–you hadn’t seen those two here before. You figured the little boy’s father must be the one incarcerated and that was who they were probably visiting. Your heart sank at the thought.

Strangely, watching the older woman whisper something to the little blonde boy in her lap had your mind drifting back to your grumpy bear of a pen pal. You'd found yourself curious to know if he had a family. While you knew far better than to try and ask him anything that remotely hinted at a personal topic, you had often wondered that while you'd been composing letters to him. But you figured if you ever dared to ask, he’d most likely have some colorful way to tell you that he wasn't going to answer your question. Or maybe he'd just stop writing to you altogether.

But still, you wondered if anyone ever came to visit him while he was stuck inside serving his time. You'd also often wondered how long his sentence was, though you'd known better than to ask him that, too. You couldn't even begin to imagine how much harder it would be serving time without some outside, familiar face to look forward to seeing every once and awhile. You found yourself hoping he did get visitors, that he had something more in his life than just your letters.

Admittedly that was partly why you'd joined this whole pen pal program when you'd first heard about it. While your brother Grim thought it was absolutely fucking bullshit–and he'd certainly given you his thoughts about it on plenty of separate occasions–you also knew how much he always looked forward to your letters throughout the week. He'd told you there were countless days that they felt like the only thing keeping him sane inside. So you’d signed up for the program hoping that you could maybe do the same for someone else.

And your grump had actually written you back the other day, so clearly you hadn't annoyed him too bad with your previous letter. This time he'd even written with just a couple of sentences more than he’d initially written in his first letter to you, which you’d considered an improvement. Even now as you thought back to his last letter, you found yourself smiling at the way he'd responded to the ridiculous nickname you’d given him.

Grumpy Grizzly? That's the best name your ass could come up with? Kinda disappointed in you, Giggles. That's fucking awful.

It almost felt as if he'd opened up just a tiny bit more to you in that letter. His words had been more teasingly friendly rather than just teasing this time–but maybe you'd just been misreading the tone through his messy handwriting. But it was almost as if you could actually hear a voice coming through his loopy scrawl of text now.

And he had answered your question.

You'd miss your dog in here, huh? You seem like a dog person, Giggles. I miss my Harley. Miss the freedom of it.

He apparently liked motorcycles, a piece of knowledge you figured you would store away for future writing topics. You wondered if he liked them as much as your brother, but you had a feeling it was hard to love a bike more than someone like him did. Your brother and his guys in that club lived and breathed their bikes and that whole lifestyle.

Your thoughts were interrupted when the door across the cafeteria-like room buzzed, signaling that an inmate was entering. Your attention instinctively shifted towards the door, catching sight of an orange jumpsuit before you recognized your brother's face. A smile spread across your lips instantly at the appearance of him in one piece, and you caught the small grin he returned.

The guard escorting your brother walked him over to your table, giving him the usual curt warning after you greeted Grim with a brief hug. Afterwards, the guard stalked off to a corner of the room, standing nearby and keeping watch over him as you both took a seat at the table, sitting on opposite sides of it.

“You look happier than usual today,” you observed, settling back down in your chair. “Someone sneak you something good?”

Your brother chuckled, resting his hands on the surface of the table, keeping them in view like he was required. “Yeah, maybe somethin’ like that, sis.” He jutted his chin at you, that small grin forming on his lips again. “How's shit with that whole pen pal of yours? He write you a novel this time?”

You rolled your eyes at the question, but the smile remained on your face. You'd missed your brother since your last visit, and you were grateful that despite being stuck inside, he still sounded like himself every time you came out to see him. He never lost his sense of humor or his ability to poke fun at you.

“No, he didn't write me a novel. But I'm making progress with him,” you answered. “His second letter had a few more sentences than the last one, and he sounded less like he had Big John’s dick shoved up his ass.”

Grim laughed, the sound loud and full of life. A sound he probably didn't make too much in there because there wasn't much to laugh about in prison.

“Maybe he likes Big John’s dick in his ass, sis. But what'd you expect?” he questioned back, his smile fading slightly. “Guy is a criminal. You think he's gonna swap cookie recipes with you or somethin’? Tell you about his childhood trauma? Send you a little beaded friendship bracelet he made in arts and crafts? C’mon, you’re smarter than that.”

“No,” you stated, shaking your head at your brother. “I’m not expecting any of that. Just figured he might, I don’t know,” you shrugged a shoulder, thinking about what you’d last told your grumpy bear of a pen pal, “enjoy receiving mail from someone on the outside. To have some semblance of feeling human or whatever. Someone he can let some of his thoughts out to or something. I don’t know.”

Grim sat back in his chair, a teasing grin on his face. The one that told you he thought you joining that program was absolutely ridiculous.

“You’re too hopeful, sis,” he replied. “It’s sweet, but I’m sure whoever the piece of shit you’re writing to doesn’t deserve that kindness anyway. The guy ain't gonna be your friend.”

“You don’t know that,” you disagreed, your smile disappearing at the thought of your pen pal being someone quite so horrid. “Not everyone locked up in here is some sort of psycho serial killer. But I’m not here to discuss my pen pal. How’re things going in there?”

Grim shrugged before glancing around the room, subtly surveying which prisoners were out here visiting with loved ones. You caught the way his eyes scanned over a few guards longer than necessary before his attention returned to you.

“Been good,” he answered. “Considering I’m stuck inside for a few more months.”

He leaned forward towards you, resting his elbows along the table as a devious glint passed behind his eyes. You mirrored his movements as you leaned forward, your head tilting curiously to the side at whatever he was about to tell you.

“We’re making moves soon,” he told you, voice lowered. “With that thing. Should help give the guys added protection back home.”

It took you a moment to make sense of what he’d said, but then you understood. The Devil’s Condemned were going to ambush some Irish gun shipment being moved that he’d mentioned to you in a recent letter. They were planning to steal the inventory for their own arsenal. With the Mayans branching out, trying to start a charter out in Stockton, your brother’s motorcycle club had been itching for extra firepower to hold down their territory.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” you asked quietly. “Seems like you’re going to make even more enemies doing that.”

“We’re gonna make it look like someone else hit ‘em. Don’t worry, alright?” Grim assured you, his expression turning serious. “But it’s not like we’re gonna get a chance to buy the hardware. Not like we got that kinda money. So this is the next best and most realistic option.”

“I don’t know, Grim,” you whispered back, uncertainty written over your features. “I’m not so sure that’s the best idea. Can’t you guys just work out a deal with the Mayan charter? Make peace or something?”

Grim scoffed at the idea, leaning back in his chair once more. His hands remained on the surface of the table, but you saw the way they'd curled into fists in frustration.

“That’s not what I’m–”

“Ain’t that simple, sis,” he answered. “This isn’t some kiddie school playground. You don’t just walk up and make friends with rival gangs.”

You broke off, sighing in frustration. The Devil’s Condemned was a smaller motorcycle club, one that mainly focused on protecting Stockton from all the bullshit that tended to land in the city from all the neighboring gangs. Especially with Stockton prison in your city, it tended to attract the wrong crowd. The Devil’s made small time money doing something with guns–that was the extent of your knowledge. But you always wished they’d stop getting involved in dangerous things like this–things that felt a little too far out of their league. Like sabotaging some larger motorcycle club that had an expansive list of charters and allies, just so they could get access to better guns.

That sharp buzz sounded again, the noise catching your attention and interrupting your conversation. Your eyes shifted over to the door of the visitation room, watching as it opened. Another man in bright orange walked through it, his blonde hair slicked back and a tattoo visible along his forearm. He walked with a bit of a swagger in his steps, moving like he owned the whole damn room as the guard behind him followed after.

Curiously, you continued to watch as his attention was drawn straight to the table with the dark-haired woman and the little boy. You saw the way the man's eyes lit up the second he spotted the boy, and the corners of your lips curled upwards at how the expression had completely changed his entire face. The little boy in the woman's lap bounced a bit more excitedly, his hands reaching out towards the prisoner as he shouted ‘dada’ so loud that it caused a few others to look over at the table.

Grim's gaze was drawn to the noise, but his expression darkened as he saw the man hugging the kid. An annoyed huff fell out of him before he leaned forward along the table, his attention returning to you as he once more lowered his voice.

“That’d be one of those assholes now,” Grim warned you quietly, his words drawing your attention back to him. “President of the Sons.”

Eyes marginally widening in surprise at the information, you focused back on the man now settling down at the table across from the woman and the boy. There was a bright smile on his face as he focused on the pair of them, the lightness of it making it impossible to ignore just how handsome he was. Something you hadn’t expected. Just like you wouldn’t have expected him to be quite so young for a motorcycle club president.

“That’s the guy you’re going to piss off?” you whispered.

“He won’t know who did it, sis,” your brother reminded you. “Alright? Don’t worry about it. And don’t stare at him, either.”

Clearing your throat, you tore your eyes away from their table and focused back on your brother, shifting in the uncomfortable plastic chair. “I wasn’t staring,” you whispered back.

“Uh huh,” Grim replied, a smirk spreading across his lips. “Stop drooling over our enemy. Ain’t a good look on you.”

“I wasn’t drooling over him,” you countered sharply. “The last place I'd be looking for a man is in a fucking prison, Grim. Don't be weird. I just didn’t expect him to be quite so young for a president of such a big club.”

Grim quirked a brow back at you, silently making it clear that he didn't quite believe you. You rolled your eyes at him before sitting back in your chair, aware you had twenty more minutes with your brother. You didn't want to spend it discussing some rival club–or one that was about to become a rival.

“Felix got out earlier this week,” you said, changing the subject.

Grim chuckled as the tension visibly eased out of him at the new topic. “No shit?” he asked. “Bet that was fun chasing down a deaf dog.”

“You have no idea,” you replied.

You spent the rest of your time with your brother retelling him the story of chasing Felix through countless backyards in countless neighborhoods one afternoon this past week. While your brother sat listening, occasionally laughing and good-naturedly making fun of your struggle, you couldn’t help but notice the Sons’ president out of the corner of your eye. He kept curiously glancing back over at you while occasionally shooting your brother’s back dark glares. Those quiet looks from the Sons’ president while you spoke with Grim only had that worry for your brother's safety growing while he was stuck in here.

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uknowmesstuff · 1 month ago

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I want Jax to do this to meee🥹

Black!Reader x Jax Teller Explicit language If you're under the age of 18, haven't finished the show, or dislike any of said topics, please read no further.

Request by the lovely @givemeabite: "My favourite thing about single Jax Teller is how much of a Prince Charmer he is. Even if you turn him down, he finds a way to make it seem temporary. And when he's determined, he has the audacity... Reader needs her car serviced and ofcourse, the only damn garage in town is Teller Morrow. How would our dear reader (who could be focused on her work/life) handle this menace after gently turning him down at their first meet cute?"

Back story: You should've listened the first time you were told your car was sounding off. Now, here you are, stood in the middle of SAMCRO territory, with Jax Teller trying to charm his way into your life. But shits messy rn. Work, stress, everything piling up until you can barely breathe, let alone make space for Prince charming. Still...shit can change.

You roll your car into the reaper covered lot, tires crunching loudly over the gravel and your engine making a sound that definitely isn't cute. You should've listened to your cousin two weeks ago when he told you to get this shit looked at. But between juggling work, trying to keep your life from falling apart, and every fucking thing else you got going on, there was just no time. Now here you are, sweating under the Californian sun, pulling up to the only garage in town with availability. And the only garage owned by a fucking biker club.

You know of the Sons, shit. Anyone from around here does. The rumours, the gossip, the gun running whispers but you've never had any reason to cross paths, until now.

Jax is already focused, working on someone's bike when he hears your engine pull into the lot. He wipes his hands on a rag, casually straightening up. His eyebrows pressing together in the middle, he doesn't recognise the car, definitely not a regular.

You step out into the heat looking all sun kissed, hoops catching the light with every movement, looking like a fucking goddess dropped into the middle of this grimy ass garage. Your legs glisten in the heat, slow and steady steps like a woman on a mission. No hesitation, no performance. You don't even flinch at the way some of the guys who are scattered across the lot pause to watch you. You don't look at them, you don't need to.

"Need a hand darlin?" He tosses the rag over his shoulder as he bops over to you. His rings flashing as he runs a hand through his hair, his mouth pulling into that crooked little smirk he uses that gets him whatever he wants.

You take a look in his direction, squinting against the sun as you lift a hand to shade your eyes. Fuck, he's annoyingly attractive. His hair's tucked behind his ears, a few strands falling loose and there's enough grease on him to show you this isn't just some pretty boy act.

"Yeah...I called up earlier...the possessed car" you say with a light laugh as you step towards him, meeting him halfway in the lot.

He grins like he remembers, because he does. He'd only been half listening when the phone rang earlier, leaning back in the office chair flipping through a parts order. The sound of your voice on the other end had pulled his attention quick. Soft and calm. He hadn't even seen your face yet, but from your voice alone he already made a bet with himself that you'd be pretty. And now you're standing in front of him, he knows he was fucking right.

"y/n right?" he says, but the way he says it is just a little off.

"y/n" you correct him gently, sliding your shades on. You give him the once over now that you're closer, not in a mean way, just an honest one. He's fine. Way too fine. But you don't let that thought reach your face, you ain't about to let him know he's got some kinda effect on you.

"Shit... my bad" he says with a tilt of his head, then repeats your name slower this time, getting it right. "Beautiful name"

You smile the kind of smile that shows just enough dimple to make him look twice "Thank you...” your eyes flick downwards to the name embroidered onto his uniform “...Jax”

"Pop the hood for me" he says, already walking towards your car like he owns the damn place.

And so you do, moving to the drivers side. As he circles round, he doesn't miss the way some of the club elbow each other. There's quite laughter, and a shared look between them all. The sort that says 'she's bad as hell and Jax is already on it'. He doesn't acknowledge them though, cause he knows exactly what they're thinking. And he's thinking the same damn thing.

You look up from your phone, another work email sent off. Your thumb still hovering, ready to jump straight into the next one. You lean forward slightly, eyes drifting towards your car, watching Jax work. He looks focused, or at least pretending to be.

But what you don't catch is the way he keeps sneaking glances at you when he thinks you're not looking.

You sigh, rolling your eyes without even meaning to. He doesn't look anywhere near done, and the longer this drags, the heavier your day feels.

"Damn" Jax says, carrying on with his work. Voice laced with that lazy mischief "Made your eyes roll and I weren't even tryin"

You scoff, finally letting your eyes land back on him "And what exactly do you mean by that?"

You know. He knows you know. But you calling him out throws him for just a second, clearly not expecting you to push it back on him.

He smirks anyway, still trying to play it cool "Just sayin..." he mutters, flashing you that cocky grin again "Didn't think I could get under your skin so easy"

You shake your head at the audacity, lips twitching like a smiles threatening to break through, and you weren't gonna let him catch you slipping that easy. "you're not...under my skin"

He straightens up, his lips settling into something softer "Hmm" he makes a noise in response.

You narrow your eyes at him, still fighting the curve of your mouth "Just fix the car, mechanic"

"Yes Ma'am" he says with a laugh, turning back to the engine. That fucking grin still sitting pretty on his face.

"All done" he announces smoothly, "Your ride's officially been resurrected"

You look up, tucking your phone back into your bag "So I don't need to request an exorcism?" you laugh softly

"Nah, I already said a prayer" he shoots back, grinning wide as he nods towards the office "This way"

You push off the wall, walking beside him, "After you darlin" he says, his eyes lingering just a little too long as he holds the door open for you.

You raise your eyebrows, thoroughly amused "Mechanics got manners"

Inside, the air is just a little cooler, the fan humming softly in the corner. He moves towards the desk as you pull your purse out, already reaching for your card.

"So what's the damage?" you ask lightly

He leans forward on the desk, arms crossed in front of him "two eighty..." he laughs "...Unless you'd rather let me buy you a drink...then we'll call it even"

You try to hold back your laugh, but you cant. Still, you slide your card calmly across the counter.

He chuckles, shaking his head, clearly entertained by your rejection "Damn...didn't even think about it, huh?"

"Not even a little" you lie sweetly.

He runs your card, prints the receipt and tears it with a snap. As you're adjusting your tote on your shoulder, he quickly jots down a little something of his own, quick and quietly. Folding the paper in half and tucking it into the side of your bag when you're distracted, without a word. The move is so clean, you don't even notice a thing.

"Appreciate the business darlin" he says as he hands you the receipt.

"Appreciate the fix" you respond back, a polite smile on your lips.

"Anytime" he replies, stepping ahead of you to hold the door again "seriously..."

You give him one last almost impressed look. Then you walk outside back into the sunlight, strutting back to your car, that's finally been tamed.

It was your first moment of peace all day. The world outside had been loud. Emails, errands, your car flaking on you and the undeniable charm of a certain mechanic. Now though, it was just you, a half empty wine glass, and the sound of your favourite playlist humming low in the background.

You two step into the kitchen to the beat of the next song, hips swaying lazily, bare feet padding against the tile. Digging through your bag for your lip balm, your hand brushes against something unfamiliar, smooth and folded. You pull it out, curiosity prickling your movements. 'Teller Morrow' stamped at the top, but it wasn't the receipt, or the invoice. This was hand written and slightly smudged.

You laugh to yourself as you finish reading his brazen little attempt to ask you out again. Bold ass man, really wrote it like he knew you'd find it at the perfect moment. Alone in your kitchen, a lil hazy from the wine and soft around the edges.

You hold the paper to your chest, teeth sinking gently into your bottom lip with a smile, one you refuse to admit is real. Your eyes flick to your phone on the counter, your mind telling you 'Don't do it, don't even think about it'. You've got shit to handle. A to do list a mile long. Goals, Deadlines, bills. And the last thing you need is to entertain some charming guy with pretty eyes and a big ass ego gliding into your life like he could fix things with a smirk and a compliment.

But your legs, they're already moving. Crossing the kitchen, reaching for the phone like your hands didn't get the memo. Your thumb hovering as your heart does that annoying flutter thing again. Still, you keep it cute. Cool, not too much.

Y/N: Really?

JAX: Knew it would get ur attention

Y/N: What? creepily leavin ur number in places it don't belong?

JAX: If thats how u wanna play it. Still worked though, didn't it?

Y/N: This isn't me agreeing to anythin. Lifes messy rn

JAX: I get it. Not here to make it messier. Just figured id try lol

Y/N: You don't even know me

JAX: I know your name's y/n Your cars kinda beat And I can tell you carry more than you let on

Y/N: Not you cussing me out and offering to be my therapist

JAX: Nah. Just someone who knows what that feels like. And wouldn't mind getting to know u No pressure tho

"Why am I entertaining this man” you roll your lips.

Y/N: You always this persistent?

JAX: Only when someones got me curious

Y/N: Don't push it lmao

JAX: Wouldn't dream of it

Y/N: Goodnight Jax

JAX: Sweet dreams y/n

Finally getting into bed, you take a second to reflect. You shouldn't have texted him.

He's cocky, too fucking charming and probably trouble. You could see it clear as day, the way he looked at you like you weren't just another face...that shit was dangerous. But here you are, texting a man you've known for all of five minutes.

you roll onto your side, pulling your bonnet down over your ears like maybe that will help quite your brain, but it doesn't. You think about the way he leaned against your car, the way his voice dropped when he pronounced your name correctly after his first try. But he's a distraction that you don’t need. Loud, confident and a little too good at making you look twice.

It's been exactly a week. Seven days without any calls, or texts, not even a smooth check in, nothing.

You weren't mad. If anything, you were the one who set the boundary. Keeping it cute and distant. And you definitely were not thinking about him when you stepped into the 7-eleven, hoodie on, leggings just about keeping your legs warm picking up a quick drink on the way home.

You didn't see him right away. His back was to you, leaning casual against the fridge near the back of the gas station, the mechanic clothing swapped for a leather kutte that reads 'Sons Of Anarchy'. You barely register it at first, your mind wrapped up in craving something sweet and cold. It wasn't until you got closer, reaching for the handle that he turned around.

You freeze in place, his smirk already halfway formed, like he'd been waiting for this moment to happen.

"Well, well, well..." his voice low, the corners of his mouth cutting deeper as he looked you up and down "...Who's doing the creepin' now darlin, You following me?"

You laugh, more caught off guard than anything "Wow..." you shift your weight to one leg "Radio silence and you're still talkin reckless?"

"I was giving you space..." he says, pushing off the fridge with that same easy swagger he had back at the garage "...didn't wanna crowd you...add to the messy" He didn't say it with shade, more of a quiet kind of respect, like he heard what you were saying and actually gave a shit.

You lean forward, grabbing the fridge door and opening it like your heartbeat wasn't suddenly doing the most. "Didn't know you were with the club" you say, reaching for a iced tea, trying to keep your tone neutral. “That a problem?” he questions, the smallest trace of defensiveness peeking through

You raise a brow, pausing a moment just before replying "should it be?"

He shakes his head, "no"

"Then no" you give him a small smile, cool but honest. That's when you notice the guy standing just behind him. He's shorter than Jax, solid build, shaved sides with a strip of dark hair going back into a mohawk, tattoos decorating the empty spaces. He's wearing the same kutte as Jax, posted up just far enough to give space, but close enough that it's clear they rolled in together. His eyes flicking between the two of you, trying not to be obvious.

"You always bring back up to the store?" you eye him sideways

"Only if I need it" he chuckles, looking behind him.

You laugh under your breath, stepping past the two of them, and then and heading towards the counter. The both of them trailing behind without saying much. At the register you go to pay, but Jax beats you to it, he putting his stuff down with yours and then tosses a few bills down.

"I could've handled that" you say, reaching for your iced tea as he hands it to you.

"I know" he replies "But I wanted to"

You thank him then step outside, the golden hour light catching on the hood of your car as they sky shifts into that warm, burnt orange kinda colour. Jax walks out behind you, door swinging shut with a soft sound. His friend behind him, a pack of gum in his hand, already opening the pack with his teeth.

"Meet you at the bikes" he gives Jax a light slap on the back, giving you a quick nod and a friendly smile before making his way over to their Harleys.

You both linger just off to the side of the entrance, the noise of the gas station fading behind you like background static. Jax slips his hand into the inside pocket of his kutte, pulling out a pack of smokes. He taps one loose, holding it between his fingers "You mind?" he asks, already bringing it to his lips

"Nah" you murmur, taking a slow sip of your drink "Do your thing"

He lights it, the scent drifting between you, oddly comforting. He takes a drag, exhaling slow like its a pause he needed. Your eyes catch on the patch stitched into the leather just above his heart. 'Vice President' bold, clean and serious. You clock it without reacting right away, but your head tilts slightly, the curiosity showing on your expression.

"Vice president huh?"

Jax glances down like he forgot it was even there, then meets your eyes again "Yeah…that’s me" he says calmly.

You laugh, light and teasing "Sounds important"

He shrugs, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette "Mostly means when shit goes sideways, I gotta be the one to fix it, or at least make it look like it was meant to happen that way"

"So...chaos control?" you raise an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued

"Somethin like that..." he smirks "Clubs been my whole life. Being VP just means I get a front row seat to every mess" He says with that relaxed charm of his, but there's weight behind the words if you're paying attention. And you are.

He keeps an eye on you, calm and steady. "You gonna answer when I call you?"

"Maybe" you say, tossing it over your shoulder with a smirk as you start walking back to your car. You slide into the driver's seat and close the door gently, letting the quiet settle. But you don't start the engine, you just sit there, your fingers toying with the cap of your iced tea, thumb tapping nervously against the label, so unlike you.

And then your phone lights up.

JAX CALLING.

You let out a small, breathy laugh. Glancing through the window seeing him watching you, phone to his ear. You answer, lifting the phone without a single word.

"Just makin sure you'd answer" he says, his voice laced with that mischief he wears so well

you roll your eyes, looking right back at him "You're mad annoying"

"Yeah..." he chuckles warmly "...but I still got you smiling"

You don't deny it, you cant. You're still smiling as you look at each other, separated by glass and a few feet of space that suddenly feels irrelevant.

"Thanks for the drink" you say softly, biting the inside of your lip, because you already know this man is about to bring the exact kind of chaos he's supposed to be controlling.

"No problem darlin'" he drops his smoke to the ground, crushing it under his shoe before locking eyes with you again "Thanks for answerin" he adds, the tone almost sarcastic, like he realised how ridiculous he sounded.

"You're doing too much" you reply, the laughter slipping out easily.

"Not enough" he fires back, then softer "Drive safe, darlin"

"You too" you mumble, hanging up after giving him one last look.

You move out of the lot, fingers loose on the wheel but your eyes flicking instinctively up to the rear view mirror. The guy with the head tattoos is still standing near the bikes, that wide boyish grin stretching across his face. Just before you pull away completely, you catch the moment he playfully shoves Jax in the shoulder, sending him stumbling half a step. Jax laughs, his head tipping back slightly, the sound silent from where you are, but somehow you can hear it anyway.

You then see him land a proud smack to Jax's back, like someone who just watched his boy finally make a move. Jax just shakes his head like he's trying not to laugh too hard, rubbing his jaw as his eyes drift back to the road.

And you? you drive on, because that charm he insists on wrecking you with?

Is fucking working.

*photos & gifs do not belong to me, only created the edited note hehe.

Ok can you all tell I’m loving doing the text threads 🤭 this one was fun to write, I miss season 1 Jax 💔 @givemeabite thank you for the request!

JAX TELLER MASTERLIST

xoxo secretly samcro

124 notes · View notes

uknowmesstuff · 1 month ago

Text

In loooveeeeee😘❤️

I Would Never Hurt You Two: Just One Chance

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 4.3k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; past sexual abuse, trauma, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, somewhat nervous!Reader, soft Jax, panic attacks, eventual smut, Reader has a brother (patched Son)

a/n: So happy to see how much y'all enjoyed the angst of the first part, there's still plenty more to come in this part and the next, but heed the warnings/tags for this fic for triggers. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated! Dividers by the lovely @secretlysamcro.

series tag list: @anonymouse1807 @kmc1989 @secretlysamcro @shiggynuggiez @sarraa-26 @uknowmesstuff @mmarysha @kaydallas21 @orymgraves

Classic rock played over the speakers that were set up outside, though the music was almost entirely drowned out beneath the sounds of children laughing and playing and the multiple loud conversations taking place on the Sons’ crowded compound. The heat of the midday sun was scorching even with the soft breeze floating past which filled the summer afternoon with the scent of cigarette smoke, grilled burgers, and beer.

With a fork in your hand, you absently speared a noodle in the pasta salad on your plate. You were sitting at one of the picnic tables outside of the clubhouse, every so often taking a bite of food or adding something to the conversation with Lyla and a few of the other women you'd met before, ones who were friends of Gemma's, but you weren’t too focused on the conversation.

Despite the fact that this little Saturday afternoon cookout was nothing like the usual Sons’ parties, especially since no one was wasted–mainly because everyone knew Gemma would absolutely kill them if they ruined her party–you were still uncomfortable. You hadn't come back to the clubhouse in weeks. Not after the way you'd quite literally ran away from Jax after accidentally telling him a bit too much about why you'd always been keeping him at a distance.

The only reason you had come out this afternoon was because Gemma had invited you to the cookout earlier this week. You'd run into her at the grocery store and initially declined the invitation, but she looked seconds away from pulling the gun out of her purse on you for even daring to refuse her, especially since your brother was a patched member. Because you were family to the club and therefore expected to show your face. Fearing that she'd just have some prospect appear on your doorstep to drag you out here if you didn’t at least stop by for a little bit, you'd arrived just over half an hour ago. In that time, you'd socialized with a few people before sitting down to eat, making sure that you'd greeted Gemma when you found her so she knew that you'd shown.

But you certainly didn't have any intention of staying here for much longer.

Even though you hadn’t been here for quite yet an hour, you'd already noticed Jax. He was always impossible to miss even in a crowd. Leaning against the side of the clubhouse just past the row of picnic tables, his hair was neatly slicked back and he’d thrown his kutte on over one of his usual white t-shirts. Occasionally he’d take a pull from the beer in his hand as he spoke to Opie, Bobby, and Chibs, but you kept catching his gaze shifting to where you were sitting. And every time your eyes accidentally landed on him across the lot, you realized he was already staring at you.

He hadn't approached you though, which you'd been grateful for since you had absolutely no idea what to even say to him after that night. But you weren't sure how long your luck would hold because he certainly looked as if he was contemplating talking to you with how frequently he continued to catch your eye.

Before you'd even left to come here, you had mentally prepared yourself for a conversation with him this afternoon. It felt unavoidable considering he would obviously be here, so you had accepted the fact that he'd probably find some way to pull you aside and talk. And he’d most likely mention your ex again after the way you'd panicked and then abruptly left the party the other week. With the way you’d acted, you knew he'd only have more questions. But that didn't mean you wanted to talk about your past trauma with him. Jax didn't seem like the comforting type who’d want to lend a sympathetic ear just so some girl could spill her problems to him, especially when he had enough of his own.

But there was a part of you that wondered if maybe you had him wrong. What if, somehow, he wasn't exactly like your ex? He'd told you that night that he liked you, that he wanted more than just some quick fuck. With how he'd been standing there drinking his beer, his blue eyes still closely watching you as if he couldn't quite tell whether he'd scare you further if he approached or not, you found yourself feeling a bit uncertain. How much were you letting your recent past cloud your judgement, making you see two men as one?

Jax could easily have just about anyone doing whatever he wanted with a flash of his cocky smirk, those pretty blue eyes, and his charming words. Yet somehow, he still seemed interested in you despite the way you'd so bluntly told him straight to his damn face that you were fucked up and not what he'd want. Generally, that would turn any sane man off of someone, not cause them to stand there longingly staring at you like he was doing now.

Tearing your eyes away from him, you focused back on your plate of food and the conversation at the table you were sitting at. One of the women made a joke and you forced yourself to laugh along with the others, attempting to ignore that constant battle within yourself that always occurred when you were in Jax's presence.

Why was this so fucking confusing? Why was it so damn hard? It should have been straightforward. You weren't ready for anything, let alone something with Jax Teller. The man was dangerous to your mental health. You couldn't possibly be what he’d want. You were not in a place to open up to anyone, to let them get closer, to let them see you. The thought of getting hurt again–of being treated the way your ex had treated you–was just too terrifying.

You were never going to be Jax Teller’s old lady. You weren’t cut out for it.

“Hey, darlin’.”

That familiar deep, smooth voice cut straight through your train of thoughts. Stiffening in your seat at the picnic table, your hand tightened around your fork as your eyes burned a hole into a piece of melon on your plate. You'd known this conversation was coming. There was no way you would have been fortunate enough to slip out of here without talking to him first, not with how he'd been staring at you for the past half hour.

“Can we talk for a minute?” Jax asked.

Slowly lowering your fork to your plate in resignation, you turned your head and looked up at Jax. He was standing beside the table staring down at you with an almost pleading expression on his face. The sight took you by surprise–he looked so sincere, so earnest. That wasn’t how he usually looked at the hangarounds let alone anyone else.

“Somewhere quieter than out here?” he added hopefully. “Like inside the clubhouse?”

You could feel the eyes of all the women sitting at your table focused on the both of you, the conversation around you having come to a halt. Saying no to him in front of them would just make a scene, and that would certainly cause more questions than just stepping inside with him to talk for a few minutes. So really, the choice was already made for you.

“Yeah,” you answered, placing your hands against the picnic table before gradually getting up. “I was planning to leave soon, though.”

Something that looked a lot like disappointment briefly flickered in his eyes before he nodded. Silently, he gestured his head towards the clubhouse, indicating he wanted you to follow him. Jax turned and started walking over to the door nearby and you reluctantly followed a few steps behind him. You moved slowly, your gaze locked onto the reaper on his kutte as dread at this impending conversation began to steadily fill you.

You knew you’d have to tell him something more than the last time you saw him. You’d need to make it clear to him just how emotionally damaged and unavailable you were because he obviously hadn’t gotten the message yet. Something that left you entirely baffled. What the hell was he after with you?

Pulling the clubhouse door open, Jax stepped to the side and held it for you, his eyes tracking your movement as you slipped inside past him. When you did, maneuvering into the air conditioned empty main room through the small bit of space in the doorway, your shoulder lightly brushed past the leather of his kutte. Instinctively biting your lip, you tried to ignore the conflicting feelings welling up inside of you at the faint bit of contact as you made your way over towards the bar.

Turning around and nervously resting your elbows on the bar counter behind yourself, you focused on Jax across the room. He stopped his approach a few good, purposeful feet away from you. Clearly, he hadn’t forgotten the way you’d reacted to him getting too close to you last time. As embarrassing as that was, you equally felt relieved that he wasn’t already pushing things too far and making you uncomfortable. It was bad enough that you were alone in here with him about to have a conversation you didn’t want to have.

“I haven’t seen you in a few weeks,” Jax stated, his eyes softening as he kept his distance. “Not since that night.”

“I told you,” you answered awkwardly, “I don’t like–”

“Parties, I know,” Jax cut in, nodding. “Yeah, you’ve said that a lot. Was starting to get a clearer picture of that before you disappeared on me last time.”

Shifting awkwardly on your feet, you looked away from Jax. Your gaze dropped down to the dirty cement floor, focused on a spot of what looked suspiciously like dried blood.

“I don’t know what you want, Jax,” you admitted.

“Thought I made that pretty damn clear the other night,” he answered easily, taking a single step closer. “But if you need me to say it again, I will, darlin’. I’m interested in you. Have been for months.”

Something like a grimace twisted your features at his words. Half of you felt some sort of pull towards him at his admission, but the other half of you just felt scared. Scared of all of the unnamed ‘what if’s’ running through your mind at the thought of actually being with Jax.

“Jax, I’m not the right girl for you,” you told him, looking up at him and nervously meeting his gaze. “I can’t be in this kind of life. Not again.”

His eyes narrowed immediately at your words. “What’s that mean, baby?” he asked slowly. “Why not? You’re already pretty damn in it with your brother. Why’re you drawin’ the line at being with me specifically?” His head tilted slightly to the side as he studied you, the look on his face making you feel incredibly exposed. “And how does your piece of shit ex tie into all of this? Because it’s clear that he does.”

Your arms nervously wrapped around your chest like some sort of protective barrier at the mention of your ex. You knew it was coming, you knew he was going to ask more about what had happened, but that didn’t make this any easier.

“The way I’m in it with my brother is different,” you explained, the faintest quiver in your voice. “I don’t always come out to the parties. I’m not obligated to be around all of this–” you said, waving a hand at the empty clubhouse around you, the sounds of the party outside seeping in through the walls. “But dating you? If that’s what you’re getting at,” you continued, growing a bit uncomfortable at just discussing the hypothetical. “That isn’t the same. I don’t care that my brother comes out to these parties. I don’t care how much he drinks or if he’s getting high. And I definitely don’t care about who he’s sleeping with. But dating the president of the Sons?”

You paused, your tongue slipping out to nervously wet your lips. This was it. This was where you’d have to give him just a little more honesty so he’d finally understand what was going on.

“You have the girls here constantly throwing themselves at you for any amount of attention,” you continued cautiously, afraid of how he might respond to being called out on it. “Because of your position in the club and the way you carry yourself. I’m not blind, I’ve seen it when I’m here. And I can’t–can’t take that kind of pressure of being with someone again and feeling like I have to be more than I’m comfortable being just to keep them wanting me and not someone else.”

Jax’s expression shifted at your word to something soft and contemplative, looking as if he was trying to piece things together. He took another slow, cautious step towards you before he stopped again, taking in the way you were still holding yourself, shrinking away from him in more ways than one.

“That’s what all this is about?” he asked, his eyes still carefully scrutinizing you. “Your scumbag ex got fucked up at those stupid parties after his shows and disrespected you by sleeping with other women? And you think I’m gonna do the same? Is that it?”

Gaze dropping away from Jax, your jaw tensed at his takeaway from what you’d said. He wasn’t getting the full picture, and you weren’t looking forward to having to paint the rest of it for him–to any extent.

“That’s not…all of what happened,” you answered him quietly. “There was more than just the cheating.”

A heavy silence filled the air inside of the clubhouse, the only noise coming from everyone just outside. You could distinctly make out the sound of both Bobby and Chibs’ loud, booming laughter at something. None of that helped to ease the racing of your heart or the way your breath was coming in a little sharper as Jax stared back at you, that look still in his eyes like he was desperately trying to understand you. It was so intense that you had to break away from it, but you could still feel the weight of it on you.

“He didn’t just cheat on you, did he?”

His question had come out low and dangerous when he finally broke the tense silence. You’d recognized that tone of his voice from the times when he’d attempted to maintain an outward calm even though he was clearly burning with fury inside. As you gradually looked back over at him, slowly meeting his gaze, the anger was visibly written across his face. The sight of it sent a shudder through you–of both fear and something else.

Slowly, you shook your head. “No,” you answered.

Hands balling into fists against yourself, you squeezed your arms tighter around your chest. Clearly you’d have to give him a bit more of the picture to make sense of what had actually happened with your ex, but your heart was beating so furiously against your rib cage that you could feel it beneath your arms. This was something you hadn’t even fully told your brother before, yet here you were awkwardly confessing it to Jax.

“He…pushed past what I was comfortable with,” you admitted so softly that Jax had to lean forward to hear you. “During sex. Frequently. And I wasn’t always sober or…consenting.”

A sharp, furious hiss of breath audibly flew out of Jax before one of his hands was running across his mouth in clear agitation, that rage burning hotter behind his eyes. Taking a sharp, angry step away from you, his body completely tensed. At his side, you caught the way his left hand curled tightly into a fist before he abruptly swung it in front of himself, slamming it so hard onto the side of one of the tables that it toppled over with a loud clatter.

Shrinking further back towards the bar behind you, you winced at the sight of his rage. Jax began to pace in front of the upturned table, roughly kicking a chair harshly across the floor when he passed it, the wooden legs briefly screaming against the cement. With every step he took, he looked like a caged tiger desperate to lash out and attack something. And right now, you were the only one in the room.

After a minute of his pacing, Jax turned back towards you, his jaw clenched tight as a handful of emotions passed over his face. Uncertain of what he was going to do, you remained quiet as you watched him, wondering if he was about to start lashing out at you for having been stupid enough to stay with your ex. But as he noticed the obvious fear in your body language at his outburst and the way you were cowering against the bar, his shoulders dropped as if all the fight had immediately drained out of him.

Running a hand over his hair in frustration, fixing a few of the strands that had come loose, he expelled a long, deep sigh as he tried to calm down. You remained at a distance, memories of your ex’s drug-filled rages flashing through your mind. How quickly he’d switch from manic to dangerous.

“Darlin’, I told you before and I’ll tell you again,” Jax began, his tone far softer than you’d have expected right now. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I would never hurt you. Not by laying my goddamn hands on you, not by fucking someone else when I’ve got you, and absolutely never by making you do any goddamn thing you didn’t wanna do.” His lips drew into a tight, thin line as he paused, briefly wincing as his eyes fixed on yours. “Look, I know the kinda reputation I got, alright? But I’m not him. I’m not that fucking asshole ex of yours. That piece of shit deserves his goddamn hands cut off for what he did to you–but I’m not him.”

His words hung in the air between you, half plea and half declaration. You could hear the conviction in his words.

“I know that,” you whispered, nodding slightly. “But your personalities and lifestyles are so similar, Jax.”

Jax took two quick steps straight towards you, shaking his head firmly. “No they’re not baby,” he countered firmly. “Cause I’d give up those fucking club whores for you. I don’t want ‘em, they mean shit to me. And I’m not out here at night getting shitfaced and doin’ coke like your fucking ex. I ain’t always chasing some high or more pussy. Not if I had my own girl waitin’ at home for me. Your ex was a fuckin’ dumbass who didn’t know what he had, and he fucking treated you like far less than you deserve. And after what you just told me?”

A sharp, dark laugh fell out of him as he shook his head, the sound of it causing an uptick in your pulse. For the briefest moment, that fury flickered behind his eyes, the sight of it causing the hair to raise on the back of your neck.

“He’s lucky if I don’t show up at his place later and shove his goddamn guitar down his throat and straight through his fuckin’ spine,” Jax snarled. “But I can assure you, he’s definitely gonna pay for the shit he put you through.”

Chewing your lip at the violent threat, you watched Jax’s expression gradually soften again as he took another few steps towards you. With your arms still tightly wrapped around your chest and the counter of the bar behind you biting into your back, you didn’t know what to make of that abrupt shift in him.

“But you?” he murmured, all that heat and fury gone, though an intensity still lingered in his piercing blue eyes. “You’ve got nothin’ to worry about from me, darlin’. I’d never do a goddamn thing to hurt you. I swear on my fuckin’ life, I’m not like that.”

Swallowing hard, you stiffened when Jax took a few more slow, cautious steps towards you. He was gradually closing the space between you both, closing that barrier of physical distance that usually kept you feeling comfortable.

“Do you like me?” he asked seriously, stopping just a few feet away from you. “Yes or no?”

Fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt as you held his gaze, you shook your head at the question. “Jax, it’s not that simple,” you whispered.

“Yes or no?” he repeated, ignoring your weak protest.

His brows rose on his forehead as he waited expectantly for you to answer him. But it really wasn’t that simple of a question. Because while yes, you did like Jax, that didn’t change the fact that you weren’t exactly open to anything. That you were still struggling to believe he’d treat you differently than your ex had.

“I–I mean yes, I do,” you answered him. “But that’s not the point, Jax. The point is that I’m not comfortable letting anyone get that close again.” Eyes falling away from him, you focused on the floor. There was no way you could look him in the face admitting what else you needed to–the thing that would certainly keep him away from you. “And I’m not–not comfortable with…physical things right now after–after him.”

A soft, nearly inaudible sigh came from Jax at your confession as you kept your gaze averted from him, unable to look him in the eye with that truth settling between you. This is the part where you expected him to finally accept defeat. To move on and give this a rest. To tell you that you were indeed too broken for him to ever want. That everything with you would be far too difficult and not worth his time. Because he’d be right on all accounts.

But he surprised you instead.

“So let me prove that you can trust me,” he suggested gently, like it was the most obvious solution. “That I’m not that dipshit who hurt you. That I wouldn’t do the same shit he did.”

Eyes slowly making their way back up to his face, you stared at him in complete disbelief. A small smile was playing across his lips now, the first one you’d seen on his face since you’d shown up to this stupid cookout.

“We can go as slow as you want, babe,” he assured you. “Don’t have to put a label on anything right now if you don’t wanna. I’m not in a rush. Cause I wasn’t bullshittin’ when I said I like you.”

“Did you not hear what I just said about physical intimacy?” you questioned him, your brows knitting together. “I’m not comfortable with sex right now, Jax.”

He shrugged a shoulder simply, taking another step closer to you as his small smile grew into a grin. “Yeah, but I got two hands ‘til then. If that’s what it takes to prove to you that I’m not some sex-crazed prick, then fine. We can take shit slow and I can wait for you, baby. I don’t need any other girls, not if I got you. And a break from sex ain’t gonna kill me–especially if it means you stop runnin’ from me. Not like I haven’t gone months without it while in prison before.”

Jax ducked his head until he was in your line of sight, holding your gaze as he took the final few steps towards you, closing the rest of the distance that had been between you both for the entire conversation. Your heart was pounding in your chest, but this time it wasn’t entirely because you were uncomfortable.

“Can you give me a chance?” he asked, tone almost pleading. “Just the one? We can go back out to my mom’s damn cookout and stop dancing around whatever this is for once. Hang out for a bit. Nothin’ more. Would you wanna do that?”

Standing there for a moment, you felt that internal battle inside of yourself steadily quiet a little. It was such a simple thing–hanging out. In front of everyone. No drugs, no one getting wasted, and no croweaters vying for his attention for one afternoon.

Your own arms gradually lowered to your sides as you thought about what he was suggesting within that offer. Taking things slow. No labels yet. You could do that, right? If Jax didn’t keep his word–if he made you the slightest bit uncomfortable at any point–you’d just walk away. This didn’t have to be anything more yet. You could give him the opportunity to prove he was different than your ex, couldn’t you?

“I suppose I don’t need to leave quite so early,” you answered him.

The warm smile that gradually spread across his lips, reaching his eyes which crinkled at the corners, had a small smile creeping over your own lips in return. Jax held out his hand towards you and your eyes dropped down to it. It was a silent invitation for something more. For you to place a little trust in him.

“C'mon,” he said. “Let's get you a drink and you can come sit with me for a bit.”

Hesitantly, you reached your hand out before placing it inside of his. When he gently curled his fingers around it, you felt the warmth of his hand engulfing your own. Jax winked playfully at you, as if everything you'd just told him about your trauma wasn't a deal breaker for him, and a nervous feeling settled in your gut.

As he led you through the clubhouse and back outside to the cookout, you found yourself hoping he wasn't the same as your ex. You hoped he was different. And you hoped that he could truly handle your pain which lingered just beneath the surface.

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uknowmesstuff · 1 month ago

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#Til It’s Gone question,

Has Jax ever imagined what life would be like with him and the reader fully together? Like waking up Sunday mornings, making breakfast, cuddling on the couch, dinner plans, etc. 🥹🫶🏻

Jax opens his eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling. Tara’s soft breathing filling the silence beside him. But it wasn’t the comfort he needed. It wasn’t you.

His mind drifted, painting you into his reality like a cruel daydream. He imagined waking up to you in her place instead. Sleepy eyes fluttering open, a lazy smile spreading across your face when you saw him watching. He’d reach out to press a kiss against your forehead, gentle and unhurried this time. Not rushed like usual.

The daydream deepens, the morning unfolding in his mind like a movie. Your voice would be the first thing he heard, teasing him about how messy his hair was or how he always took up most of the bed. Maybe you’d pull him back under the covers for five more minutes “The club can wait, baby” you’d whisper, your arms wrapping round his waist as he buries his face in your neck, breathing you in as hard as he can.

He could almost hear the sound of your footsteps making your way to his kitchen, the soft clink of mugs as you made coffee. Just the way he liked it, strong and dark, yours always being that little bit sweeter. His boys voices echoing in the distance of his vision, you’d crouch down and greet them with your arms open wide offering them insane amounts of love.

He thought about all the moments you probably wouldn’t ever get to share.

Grocery shopping on a Sunday morning, arguing over which cereal to get for the boys, you sneaking snacks into the cart for them when you thought he wasn’t looking. Him, Sitting at the kitchen table, watching you cook dinner and not just for him, but for his sons too. Thomas tugging at your shirt whilst you stir something on the stove, Abel telling you about his day, his words stumbling out too fast because he knew you were actually listening to him.

Then birthdays, balloons taped to the walls, cakes on little plates. You lighting candles whilst the boys shouted excitedly. Him with an arm slung around your waist, the other hand using his phone to take a selfie, wanting to remember the moment.

He pictures the two of you packing a bag whilst the boys were at Gemma’s for a weekend sleepover. You moving around the room in that easy, natural way. Barefoot, tossing things into the duffel without a care in the world. Holding up a top and asking if it went with that skirt, half talking to yourself, half to him. He’d be sitting on the edge of the bed watching you, mesmerised by the softness of it all.

Then the drive, him behind the wheel one hand gripping it loosely, the other resting on your thigh. All the windows down, warm air rushing in, music humming from the speakers. Something old school, something you both knew every word to. You’d be mid story telling him something ridiculous that didn’t make much sense, but he’d be listening anyway, hooked on the sound of your voice more than the actual meaning.

You’d arrive to a motel by the coast, cheap, quiet and far away from everything. Salt in the air. Tangled sheets. Takeout containers half eaten on the nightstand. You in one of his shirts, brushing your teeth beside him like you’d always belonged there.

No pressure. No club. No lies.

And then, just like that, the vision shatters.

Tara stirs beside him, shifting under the covers before leaning in closer, her head resting on his shoulder like it was routine. Like nothing in their world has cracked beneath the surface. “Morning” she mumbles, still half asleep.

“Morning” he replies, his voice almost monotone. The warmth of the thoughts dissolving into mid air.

The guilt rolls in slow, but it’s suffocating. Tightening in his chest. Because he hadn’t just been thinking about you. He’d been building a life with you in his head, a quiet beautiful life that didn’t belong to him, or you, not really.

And yet, here he was. Lying beside the woman he married, the mother of his kids, whilst his mind and heart wandered elsewhere. Towards dim lighting in the diner, dirty back alleys, and secret meetings in the underground parking lot.

TILL IT'S GONE SERIES MASTERLIST

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uknowmesstuff · 1 month ago

Text

Beee mine Jackie boy😭❤️

Not Like Before Prologue

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 2k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; nurse!Reader, canon-divergence (no Abel or Thomas), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, girl dad Jax

summary: Jax met you at a bar out near Fresno, California while on a run with the club. Unable to deny the instant attraction, you brought him back to your place for a few hours of the best sex of your life. Almost two months later, you realized you were pregnant with his kid and no way to contact him. Due to your hospital's budget cuts, you end up taking a job at St. Thomas Hospital, bringing both Emilia and yourself to Charming five years later, entirely unaware that the local MC is the one your daughter's father runs–and that out of the hundreds, you were the one he never forgot.

a/n: I'm excited to see so many of y'all were looking forward to this! I honestly didn't expect y'all to want to read about girl dad Jax discovering he's got a daughter. This first part has bits of smut from that night 5 years ago (you'll eventually get more later). Initially was going to post this in a few days but I'm incredibly sick so here you go! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated.

series tag list: @kmc1989 @secretlysamcro @chloe-skywalker @cindsvibes @aussiefangirl95 @sjester42-blog @danzer8705 @uknowmesstuff @mmarysha

Tonight had been anything but what Jax expected.

When he'd locked eyes on you from across the bar earlier this evening, he'd felt an immediate attraction–an instant pull to you. Something he’d never experienced before with the countless women he’d hooked up with over the years. He’d caught you sitting at your table with your friends making eyes at him while sipping on your mixed drink, giving him the same exact look he knew he’d been giving you.

Thirty minutes. That's how long it had taken for you to leave that table and head to the bar alone, ordering yourself another vodka cranberry. When you'd met his gaze from across the room again, Jax didn't hesitate. He'd gotten up from the table with the Sons, clapping Opie on the shoulder and shooting him a smug grin. Jax knew damn well he wouldn’t be back until he’d found some way to have you for the night.

Because SAMCRO wasn't in Charming this weekend. They'd had a run all the way out to San Bernardino, but after a little territory dispute on their way back home, it had gotten far too late to keep riding. Clay had made the call for the group to settle in at a cheap motel near Fresno for the night. So for the next few hours, Jax had been open to finding a different distraction than what he always had in Charming.

And tonight, that had been you.

But what Jax hadn't expected was your sense of humor and the way your adorable laugh easily had a grin spreading over his own lips at the sound. And while you drank down a second vodka cranberry as you both talked at the bar, both of your groups of friends long forgotten from your minds, you'd disarmed him with your charm and the twenty different times you'd leaned over, giggling as you confessed that you weren't the type to ever bring a guy back to your place.

But he'd seen the way you kept eyeing him. He'd noticed the way you reacted to his flirting and the compliments, noticed the way you’d leaned into his touches whenever his fingers brushed over your cheek, your arm, your hip. He knew you'd felt that same attraction that he'd felt from the second he first spotted you.

He was proven right when you'd stepped outside with him. Jax had lit up a cigarette, in need of a smoke almost an hour later just to give his hands something to do to keep himself from taking you against the damn bar counter with how you’d been affecting him. One moment he was joking with you, taking a drag off of his cigarette, and the next, you'd plucked the damn thing from his fingers and thrown it aside. Then you'd grabbed him by the kutte before smashing your mouth onto his until all he could taste was your vanilla lip balm on his tongue.

He'd had you every which way back at your apartment after that, but not before he'd buried his face between your plush thighs. Your fingers had been tangled in his hair, your body writhing on your bed as you whimpered beneath his mouth. When you finally came on his tongue that first time, your hand pulling sharply on his hair as you cried out in pleasure, you'd tasted even sweeter than your lip balm.

Jax had lost count of how many times he'd gotten you to come for him tonight. But fuck if he hadn't quickly found himself loving the way your eyelids fluttered as the most beautiful noises flew past your lips each time that pretty pussy of yours squeezed him relentlessly with every single one of your climaxes.

It was at some point in the middle of him taking you for the third time that he realized it. With his hand wrapped around your throat as he'd pulled your face back towards his, laying on your stomach as his other hand pressed into the mattress to hold himself over the back of you, he ruthlessly fucked you into the bed. The fitted sheet had flown up in one corner long ago with how roughly he’d been driving into you and with how tightly you’d had a hold of it curled in your fists. It was then that realization had come before either of you did again.

A few hours out here with you wouldn’t be enough.

This encounter hadn’t felt like any of the ones he’d had before–and there’d been plenty after Tara had left Charming a few years ago. Because you were the first girl Jax had been with that he’d actually seen. It wasn’t Tara at the forefront of his mind while he was inside of you. He wasn’t hiding your face in a pillow or the sheets trying to imagine he was inside of her like he’d often done in the past with the girls hanging around the clubhouse. He was actively watching you, enjoying the way you looked as you panted and gasped, moaning and whining while he fucked you hard and rough. But before that, he’d taken you slow and soft, the moment feeling oddly intimate and passionate as he’d laid flush over the top of you, not an inch of space between your sweaty bodies as his eyes held yours. And the way you’d buried your face into the crook of his neck, back arching your body into his when you’d come moaning against his skin, had his entire body practically vibrating in sheer pleasure.

Underneath the faint haze of alcohol, he was aware that something more was happening here.

By now he’d fucked you three times already in the past couple of hours, yet here you were, riding him with your head thrown back over your shoulders as you were nearing yet another orgasm, your perfect tits looking even better from his angle beneath you as you bounced along his cock–which was already mostly spent by now. He was close to coming once again himself, his hands gripping your waist as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, his own hips rocking up to meet yours. The sounds you were making had him falling apart so goddamn easily for you.

Jax came yet again soon after, filling you with what little he had left to give by this point. But as he pulled your sweaty, panting body down on top of his, he found himself wishing he didn’t have to leave so soon. He wanted to keep you as close as he could for a little bit longer, his fingers gently brushing back and forth over your shoulder in a way that could almost be considered affectionate.

He found himself being soft with you in between all the sex. Something he didn't understand. Something he didn't do with girls. But you were different. You’d made him feel different–made him feel something for the first time in years. And he’d found himself enjoying the jokes and the conversation between the fucking far more than he thought possible.

But then you’d fallen asleep on him shortly after that fourth time when he’d pulled you down onto him, your body clearly exhausted from the physical exertion. Jax knew he needed to get back to the motel to get some sleep himself before finishing the few hour ride back to Charming tomorrow. He couldn’t just stay here curled up in some random girl’s bed even if a small part of him strangely wanted to do exactly that.

So he did what he knew he was supposed to–he slipped out of your apartment while you were asleep. Made a quiet escape back to his cheap motel room. But he’d tossed and turned in the shitty bed until sunrise knowing he’d never see the girl who’d made him finally feel something again and not understanding why the fuck that mattered at all.

Sitting on the floor of your small bathroom, your head fell back against the vanity cabinet behind you. Both tests had come back positive. There was no denying it now, no writing it off that you just weren’t feeling well or that the stress of work had caused you to be late.

You were pregnant.

Pregnant with the baby of some guy you’d known for only a few hours. Some guy you couldn’t even recall the name of almost two months later–Jared, Jason, Jay? All you could remember was that he’d been painfully handsome, he didn’t live around the area, he was in some sort of motorcycle club that you also could not remember the name of, and that he’d been incredible in the bedroom.

Apparently so incredible that he’d gotten you pregnant.

“Shit,” you whispered to yourself, tears pricking at your eyes again as you stared at the ceiling of your bathroom. “Of course the one fucking time I have a fling with someone–the one goddamn time I let myself have any fun–this is what happens.”

All because you’d been stressed out that night due to your new job at Fresno Community Hospital. They’d been giving you the shitty shifts for months solely because you were the new nurse. Third shift, second shift, doubles. Your schedule had been so damn screwed that when you’d finally had a day off, you’d gone out with your friends to let loose. The second you’d noticed the attractive biker eyeing you from across the bar, you didn’t care about the hint of danger radiating off of him or the fact that you weren’t the type for one night stands. You’d found a new way to deal with your stress–him.

And goddamn had he worked you out that night. You had a feeling you’d found the damn unicorn of one night stands because the way that man had taken care of you–folding you and bending your body in ways you had no idea it could even move–had been mind-numbingly amazing. You’d never met a man with quite so much stamina and determination, and you’d certainly never fucked anyone who damn well knew what the hell they were doing quite like that.

But you’d stupidly told him that you were on the pill, forgoing condoms that neither of you even had in the moment. Except the alcohol clouding your mind had you forgetting the part where you’d been so fucked up with your work schedule that you’d missed a handful of birth control pills that month.

And now here you were facing the consequences of your actions.

Expelling a rough breath, you looked back down at the two tests laying innocently on the floor beside you. Both of them displayed two very pink lines that you couldn't dispute. You’d sat on the floor of your bathroom for almost an hour now, running through a range of feelings–fear, despair, shock, disbelief. Eventually you’d settled on acceptance, because you already knew that you were going to keep this baby. You had no idea how you’d make it work, but you knew you’d figure it out.

But you had no way to contact the father. Not that you figured the man you’d met two months ago would remotely care about you carrying his child, but you didn’t even have a way to reach him. If you could have, you’d at least have given him the news on the off chance it somehow would mean something to him. It wasn’t like you’d ever exchanged phone numbers that night, though, and he’d long since disappeared by the time you’d woken up in your bed the next morning.

But what else had you expected? He’d made it clear to you that he was no stranger to random romps with girls he’d just met even if you weren’t that type yourself. You were just another random hookup in a string of probably countless others for him. You doubted he would even remember your face, and you weren’t even certain you'd given him your name.

And now you’d be forever linked with him and he’d never even know.

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