etherealyoonghwa

[etherealyoonghwa]

310 Prompt List

1. "We're not just friends and you fucking know it."

2. "Please don't cry. I can't stand to see you cry."

3. "Stay with me."

4. "Walk out that door and we're through."

5. "Well. Yell, scream, say something. Anything."

6. "I can't breathe."

7. "I hate how much I love you."

8. "Why are you so jealous?"

9. "Where do you think you're going."

10. "Just leave me alone."

11. "I need some time."

12. "Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself."

13. "You can't keep pretending it didn't happen, cause guess what? It did!"

14. "Just please be my best friend right now, not the guy I just confessed my love to."

15. "Stop pretending you're okay, cause I know you're not."

16. "Just talk to me."

17. "Bite me."

18. "If you insist."

19. "I think I'm in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me."

20. "I think you're just afraid to be happy."

21. "Why are you so nice to me."

22. "Choose me."

23. "We'll get through this, I promise."

24. "You're so fucking hot when you're mad."

25. "You're mine. I don't share."

26. "Just shut up and kiss me."

27. "If we get caught I'm blaming you."

28. "Make me."

29. "Do you want to kiss as bad as I do right now"

30. "I think I forgot how to breath."

31. "Stop biting that fucking lip!"

32. "You're blushing."

33. "I missed something didn't I?"

34. "You come to my room and wake me up at 4am, to cuddle?"

35. "Well this is awkward."

36. "Is that my shirt?"

37. "You look like you need a hug."

38. "I can't believe you don't like Disney movies."

39. "Please come home, I miss you."

40. "You're so fucking adorable."

41. "How can you still look so attractive while crying."

42. "I'm pregnant."

43. "You're lucky you're cute."

44. "Cuddle me."

45. "Sometimes I really don't like you."

46. "What if I told you I've been in love with you since we were kids."

47. "You're seriously like a man-child."

48. "You're getting crumbs all over my bed."

49. "Im too sober for this."

50. "Oh god, I need a drink."

51. "Are you hurt?"

52. "For you, I would do anything."

53. "Please never ever do that again."

54. "Your hugs are the best."

55. "Your kisses are the best."

56. "Please come back to bed."

57. "Here, you're freezing. Take my jacket."

58. "Wanna dance?"

59. "Use your words."

60. "I wish I could hate you."

61. "Your avoiding me."

62. "You're the one avoiding me."

63. "Kiss me."

64. "Are you going to kiss me."

65. "Take a picture it will last longer."

66. "Make me."

67. "You are my home."

68. "I love you."

69. "Where is my wife."

70. "So you want to be a hero?"

71. "You're okay."

72. "Look at me."

73. "Be venerable with me."

74. "I don't know when it happened, but I fell in love with you, even though I know you can't love me back."

75. "You can't love me back, right?"

76. "You don't think she's lying, do you?"

77. "Oh, I know she's lying. I already caught her in it."

78. "I'd apologize for intruding, but I think it was warranted."

79. "Oh now you want to be the hero! But never when I asked for help!"

80. "I don't want to lose you."

"Then you need to change. You can't treat me like this."

81. "What are you, a detective?"

82. "Do you understand that you're hurting people?"

83. "Oh, yes. The thing is I simply don't care."

84. "Do you love me?"

85. "You've changed." "I had to."

86. "Remember when I told you there would come a time where you just need to trust me? Now's that time."

87. "Will you stop moving, I'm trying to help you."

88. "You know I love you right?"

89. "I'm worried I can't keep you safe."

90. "This is a secret you're going to have to let me keep."

91. "Is it weird that I find that hot?"

92. "I love you, please don't go."

93. "Stay here tonight."

94. "Please don't walk out of that door."

95. "I thought things were going great."

96. "Don't you love me?"

97. "You make every day worth living."

98. "I'll keep you warm."

99. "I'm never letting you go."

100. "You meant too much to me."

101. "I won't let you."

102. "How could you ask me that?"

103. "Don't you trust me?"

104. "I won't let anyone hurt you, you're safe with me."

105. "You look amazing tonight."

106. "Shouldn't you be with him/her?"

107. "I've got you."

108. "I can't sleep, can I stay here?"

109. "It's late. Shouldn't you be asleep?"

110. "How are you feeling today?"

111. "You look amazing tonight."

112. "We'll figure this out."

113. "This isn't goodbye."

114. "What's cookin' good lookin'?"

115. "Wanna go grab a drink?"

116. "What the hell were you thinking?!"

117. "Here, let me help you."

118. "I care about you."

119. "You could have warned me!"

120. "That was unexpected."

121. "You haven't lost me."

122. "Why are you doing this?"

123. "Don't cry."

124. "Please don't do this."

125. "You make me feel safe."

126. "You've shown me what love can feel like."

127. "Thank you, for everything."

128. "All I wanted was for you to be happy."

129. "I can't do this on my own."

130. "I wasn't lying when I said that I loved you."

131. "Don't be afraid."

132. "You're always on my mind."

133. "You have no idea how much I want you right now."

134. "You've always felt like home."

135. "I can't imagine this world without you."

136. "Dance with me."

137. "Trust me."

138. "Why are you crying?"

139. "Who hurt you?"

140. "Nothing is wrong with you."

141. "You make me feel alive."

142. "I wouldn't change a thing about you."

143. "Who cares about what they think?"

144. "Let's go."

145. "I'm not going anywhere."

146. "Tell me what's wrong."

147. "You've always got me."

148. "I've waited for this moment for a long time."

149. "Is this okay?"

150. "You look like you could use a hug."

151. "Did you need something?"

152. "Do you have a ride home?"

153. "I am home."

154. "What happened back there?"

155. "That's not gonna happen."

156. "Why me?"

157. "I'm right where I belong."

158. "What do you want me to say?"

159. "After everything we've been through, you still don't think that I love you?"

160. "You've been drinking tonight, haven't you?"

161. "You need sleep."

162. "Excuse me?"

163. "What are you doing?"

164. "What did you expect?"

165. "You're not alone."

166. "We're meant for each other."

167. "You're worth it."

168. "I don't care what anyone else thinks."

169. "I've always been honest with you."

170. "It's cold, you should take my jacket."

171. "Just breathe, okay?"

172. "When I'm with you, I'm happy."

173. "Going somewhere?"

174. "Don't lie to me."

175. "Don't be scared, I'm right here."

176. "You're so adorable."

177. "I'm better, now that you're here."

178. "I could never forget you."

179. "Forget it."

180. "That's in the past."

181. "You make me happy."

182. "You're more than that."

183. "I won't lose you too."

184. "Come cuddle."

185. "Can't you stay a little longer?"

186. "It's not that easy."

187. "I've had enough."

188. "I fell in love with you, not them."

189. "You're the only one I wanna wake up next to."

190. "Well, what can I say? I'm a badass."

191. "Define normal."

192. "Do I get bonus points if I act like I care?"

193. "Just remember if we get caught, you're deaf and I don't speak English."

194. "Don't look for any redeeming qualities. I don't have any."

195. "It's amazing how fast the world can go from bad to total shit storm."

196. "I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass."

197. "And you wonder why you're still single."

198. "Remind me to kill you. Please."

199. "I'm listening to you. I'm just not paying attention."

200. "That's a little melodramatic, don't you think?"

201. "Were you dropped on your head?"

202. "She's crazy. And just when you think you've reached the bottom of her craziness, there's a crazy underground garage."

203. "She may seem like lollipops and rainbows but I bet behind close doors she's latex and whips."

204. "If my day gets any worse, I'm asking hell if they're having an exchange program."

205. "Sorry. I don't speak skank."

206. "If I survive, can I go home?"

207. "My middle finger salutes you."

208. "This is a whole new level of moronic, even for you."

209. "I don't think I could ever stab someone. I mean, let's be honest. I can barely get the straw in the Capri Sun."

210. "I don't have enough middle fingers to let you know how I feel."

211. "Insanity run in my family. It practically gallops."

212. "Oh darling. Go buy a brain."

213. "Somebody's cranky." "Somebody needs to shut up."

214. "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."

215. "All due respect, but that's a bunch of crap."

216. "I am one of the few people in the world who can murder you and leave no forensic evidence behind."

217. "Excuse me. I have to go make a scene."

218. "What did I tell you about calling her/him the devil?" "That it's offensive to the devil?"

219. "I heard that!" "You were supposed to!"

220. "I need therapy after this."

221. "You didn't get in trouble for lying. You got in trouble for lying badly."

222. "I'm not weird. I am limited edition."

223. "I turned out liking you a lot more that I originally planned."

224. "I think you're weird." "I think you're boring."

225. "If history repeats itself, I am so getting a dinosaur."

226. "You seem somewhat familiar. Have I threatened you before?"

227. "I'm afraid I've been thinking..." "A dangerous pastime."

228. "I'd explain it to you, but you're brain would explode."

229. "Wow, there's a big surprise. I think I'm going to have a heart attack and die from surprise."

230. "I'm gonna hit you so hard, it'll make you ancestors dizzy."

231. "Even when we were kids, I always kicked your ass!"

232. "Sarcasm is the body's natural reaction to stupidity."

233. "You're good. A monster pain in the ass... but you're good."

234. "Well, excuse me, psychic wonder!"

235. "The female of the species is more deadly than the male."

236. "Don't look in her eyes, she might steal your soul."

237. "She's hot, but she's evil."

238. "Do I regret it? Yes. Would I do it again? Probably."

239. "I already know that I'm going to hell. At this point it's really go big or go home."

240. "Go on, knock his teeth down his throat."

241. "You're going to burn in a very special level of hell. A level they reserve for child molesters, animal abusers and people who talk at the theater."

242. "What's the point in screaming? No one's listening anyway."

243. "I'm not a damsel in distress. I'm a damsel doing damage."

244. "So stick that in your juice box and suck it."

245. "Never take life seriously. No one ever comes out alive anyway."

246. "This place hold a lot of memories for me. Some bad, some... No. No, no, all bad."

247. "A little gasoline... blowtorch... no problem."

248. "Good, bad, I'm the one with the gun."

249. "I know you can't kill anybody, 'cause I can't kill anybody."

250. "You're insane, but you might also be brilliant."

251. "What you call insanity, I call inspiration."

252. "Sometimes I question my sanity. Occasionally it replies."

253. "Why should we date?" "Because we are attracted to each other." "I am attracted to pie, but I do not feel the need to date pie."

254. "Why does everyone assume the worst of me." "It saves time."

255. "I like you. You're different."

256. "You successfully cured him/her of anything interesting about his/her personality."

257. "Neither one us is drunk enough for this conversation."

258. "You're questioning my methods." "I'm not questioning it, I'm saying it's stupid."

259. "Wow, somebody needs a Happy Meal."

260. "I didn't do it!" "Then why are you laughing?" "Because whoever did it is a freaking genius."

261. "Idiots. I'm surrounded by idiots."

262. "You couldn't handle me even if I came with instructions."

263. "I care so little, I almost passed out."

264. "Well behaved woman rarely make history."

265. "You're so weird." "You have no idea."

266. "The universe may not always play fair, but at least it's got a hell of a sense of humor."

267. "You haven't even seen my bad side yet."

268. "Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit."

269. "How's life treating you?" "Like I ran over it's dog."

270. "Rule number one: don't bother sucking up. I already hate you, that's not going to change."

271. "Oh God, we're not gonna have to hug or anything, are we."

272. "I'm so glad you could come." "Cut the crap. Give me a drink."

273. "You make no sense to me." "Welcome to my life."

274. "Have fun being deal." "I will."

275. "Damn, you're strong for a little thing."

276. "It's called thinking. Go with it."

277. "I made a new friend today." "Real or imaginary?" "Imaginary."

278. "Where have you been all my life?" "Hiding from you."

279. "I'm getting real bored and impatient. I don't do bored and impatient."

280. "The girl is strange no question."

281. "Do us a favor... I know it's difficult for you... but please, stay here, and try no to do anything... stupid."

282. "I know most people don't like me; I don't care, I don't like most people."

283. "You are a very strange person." "Well, thanks for noticing."

284. "I can tell that you think what you're saying is funny, but... no."

285. "I didn't steal it. I permanently borrowed it."

286. "I'm not shy. I'm just examining my prey."

287. "If you pull out my earphones, I will pull out your lungs."

288. "I don't dislike you, I nothing you."

289. "Are you crying? No, I'm impersonating a fountain."

290. "Ah, he's playing hard-to-get. That's cute."

291. "You're kinda anti-social, you know that?"

292. "I feel like a freakin' soccer mom."

293. "My advice is much more subtle. Stop being an ass."

294. "I'm just gonna pack up and go straight to hell now."

295. "My ex? Yeah, I'd still hit that. Except this time it would be with a car or baseball bat."

296. "She's complicated like the DaVinci code, you know but harder to crack."

297. "And just like everything else we do around here, it's about to get weirder."

298. "Such big evil in such a little thing."

299. "Why do I still like you, knowing you're a total asshole?"

300. "What does not kill you will likely try again."

301. "Oh honey, I would but... I don't want to."

302. "And hello to you too... little homewrecker."

303. "I'm gonna make you wish you were dead."

304. "I don't need anger management. I need people to stop pissing me off."

305. "What doesn't kill me might make me kill you."

306. "In another life, I think I was in a mental institution."

307. "I'm not crazy. I'm just interesting."

308. "Don't make me pop your ten grand sand bags honey."

309. "This is fun." "Seriously, we're trying to hide a body."

310. "Look here, tough guy-"

[etherealyoonghwa]

Two Lines, Two Lives

Tig Trager x female oc

Warning: pregnancy, soa, blood,

Word count: 331

Maeve Blackwood masterlist

Maeve's world had always been a kaleidoscope of chaos and love, but this particular morning, a new, unsettling hue was bleeding into the vibrant mix. She stared at the small plastic stick on the bathroom counter, her heart doing a frantic jig against her ribs. Two lines. Two undeniable, life-altering lines.

It wasn't a surprise in the way a sudden downpour on a sunny day was a surprise. She and Tig hadn't exactly been careful. But it was a surprise in the way a fundamental shift in the earth's axis would be a surprise – something that altered everything, forever.

Her mind, usually a rapid-fire processor of club politics, supply runs, and the latest family drama, was a blank slate. Pregnant. With Tig Trager’s baby. The man who was as unpredictable as a live grenade, as loyal as a pitbull, and as tender as a bruised peach, despite his rough exterior.

A shaky laugh escaped her, bordering on a sob. Their life was already a delicate balance, a tightrope walk between legitimate business and the shadows that always lingered. A baby. A tiny, vulnerable human in the middle of their beautiful, volatile storm.

She picked up the stick, her fingers trembling as she traced the lines. A wave of nausea, more potent than any morning sickness she’d yet experienced, washed over her. This wasn't just about her anymore. It was about them. About Tig.

How would he react? Tig, who doted on their boys with a fierce, almost possessive love, but who also navigated a world where safety was a luxury they rarely afforded. Would he be overjoyed? Terrified? A chaotic mix of both?

She heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs, then the familiar rumble of his voice calling her name. Her breath hitched. There was no going back now. The lines were there, undeniable, etching a new chapter into their story, one she knew, with a certainty that both thrilled and terrified her, would be the most extraordinary yet.

[etherealyoonghwa]

Maeve's Dilemma: A Secret Burden

Jax Teller x female oc

Warnings: pregnancy, soa, violence.

Word count: 347.

Maeve Blackwood masterlist

Maeve's hand instinctively went to her still-flat stomach, a gesture both protective and disbelieving. Pregnant with Jax Teller's baby. The words echoed in her mind, a relentless drumbeat against the roar of the clubhouse, the constant threat of rival gangs, and the suffocating weight of the life she’d somehow fallen into. She'd known from the start that a relationship with Jax was like playing with fire, but she never imagined getting burned this badly, or rather, getting blessed so unexpectedly.

She paced her small, temporary room, the worn floorboards creaking underfoot. How could she tell him? Jax, the man who carried the weight of his club, his family, and a thousand broken promises on his shoulders. Would this news be another burden, or something that could, just maybe, offer a glimmer of light in his perpetually dark world? The thought of his reaction, a mix of shock and that deep, unreadable intensity in his blue eyes, sent a shiver down her spine. This wasn't just about her anymore; it was about a tiny, innocent life, already caught in the crossfire of their dangerous existence.

She considered her options, each one fraught with its own set of complications. Run? Disappear and raise the child far from the Sons of Anarchy, far from the violence and the constant threat of loss? The idea was tempting, a fantasy of peace that felt utterly out of reach. Or stay? Face Jax, face the club, and try to carve out a life for their child in a world that offered no guarantees.

A tear slipped down her cheek. She was terrified, but beneath the fear, a fierce protectiveness was beginning to bloom. This baby, Jax's baby, was a part of her now, a future she hadn't dared to dream of. The secret, however, was a heavy one, and she knew she couldn't carry it alone for much longer. The moment of truth was coming, and with it, the potential to either shatter her world completely or, against all odds, reshape it into something she never thought possible.

[etherealyoonghwa]

The Weight of the Garage part 2

Chibs Telford x female oc

Warnings: none.

Word count: 454

Maeve Blackwood masterlist

Part 2 for @mrstelford

Maeve followed him out, a sense of anticipation bubbling within her. The Impala, a gleaming testament to an earlier era, looked somehow vulnerable sitting under the harsh afternoon sun. Filip didn't waste time with pleasantries. He circled the car once, his eyes scanning its lines with a practiced intensity, then knelt beside the front wheel, his head cocked, listening.

The clunking sound, intermittent and unsettling, chose that moment to announce itself again, a hollow thud that seemed to vibrate through the pavement. Filip straightened up, his brow furrowed. He opened the hood with a practiced flick of the latch, and Maeve caught another whiff of oil and gasoline, but this time it was tinged with something else – a faint, almost imperceptible scent of metal fatigue.

He delved into the engine bay, his large hands moving with surprising dexterity amidst the wires and hoses. Maeve watched him, fascinated by the way he seemed to communicate with the machine, his touch purposeful, his movements economical. He pulled out a small, pen-like device and listened to various points on the engine, his expression unchanging.

"Wheel bearing," he stated, finally pulling away. His voice was as flat as his expression. "Possibly the CV joint too. We'll need to get it on the lift to be sure."

Maeve nodded, relieved to have an answer, yet a little daunted by the potential cost. "And... how long do you think that would take?"

Filip looked at her then, his gaze direct and unblinking. "Depends on parts. Might be able to get them in by tomorrow. If not, could be a few days." He paused, and for the first time, a hint of something flickered in his eyes – a shadow of the weariness she’d noticed before, but also a sliver of professional pride. "We'll do it right."

Maeve felt a strange sense of trust settle over her. Despite his stoic demeanor, there was an undeniable competence about him. "Okay," she said, a small smile returning to her lips. "Do you want me to leave the keys with you then?"

He nodded, already turning back towards the garage bay. "Just drop them through the slot in the office door when you leave. I'll call you when we have a better estimate and a timeframe."

As he disappeared back into the shadows of the garage, Maeve was left with the hum of the cooling Impala engine and the lingering scent of grease and Filip. She knew her car was in capable hands, but more than that, she felt a pull of curiosity. Filip wasn't just fixing her car; he was an enigma, and Maeve found herself wanting to know more about the quiet man with the sorrowful eyes and the capable hands.

[etherealyoonghwa]

Another Tuesday

Happy Lowman x female oc.

Warnings: bike crash, injuries.

Word count: 383.

Maeve Blackwood masterlist

"Are you hurt?" Happy Lowman's voice cut through the ringing in Maeve Blackwood's ears, rougher than usual. She pushed herself up from the dusty ground, her elbow screaming in protest. The motorcycle, or what was left of it, lay crumpled against a twisted guardrail, a testament to Happy's less-than-stellar driving skills.

Maeve brushed a stray strand of black hair from her eyes, wincing as she felt a lump forming on her forehead. "Just my pride, Happy. And maybe a concussion." She took in the scene: the scattered debris, the concerned (or perhaps just annoyed) look on Happy's face, and the ominous silence of the deserted road. It was, she had to admit, a classic Happy Lowman adventure.

He was already checking the bike, grunting at the damage. "Figures. Just got it detailed."

Maeve let out a shaky laugh. "You're more worried about the bike than me?"

Happy finally turned to her, his gaze sweeping over her, lingering on the scraped denim of her jeans. "You said you were fine, didn't ya? Besides," he gestured vaguely at the wreck, "this is gonna cost me." He reached out a hand, not to help her up, but to prod her forehead with a surprisingly gentle touch. "That's a nasty knock. You sure you're good?"

"I'm fine, Happy. Really," Maeve insisted, though her head throbbed in rhythm with her pulse. She managed a weak smile. "Just another Tuesday, right?"

Happy grunted, a sound that could mean anything from agreement to utter exasperation. He looked down at the ruined bike, then back at Maeve, a flicker of something she couldn't quite place in his eyes – concern, perhaps, or maybe just resignation. "Yeah, another Tuesday." He pulled out his phone, already dialing. "Looks like we're walking." He paused, then looked at her again, a slight crease in his brow. "You really okay, Maeve? You look a little... green."

Maeve just rolled her eyes, pushing herself fully upright. "I've looked worse, Happy. Trust me." And as they began the long walk back, leaving the mangled motorcycle behind, Maeve couldn't help but feel a strange sense of comfort. Even with a headache and a bruised ego, having Happy Lowman by her side, even if he was the reason she was in this mess, wasn't the worst way to spend a Tuesday.

[etherealyoonghwa]

Gin & Whiskey

Opie Winston x female oc.

Warnings: mentions of Samcrow, alcohol.

Word count: 500.

Maeve Blackwood masterlist

Maeve idly stirred her drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass. Across the table, Opie hadn't offered much in the way of conversation since they'd sat down twenty minutes ago.

She tilted her head, a playful challenge in her eyes. "You always this talkative on a first date?"

A small smile touched Opie's lips. "Only when I'm trying not to screw it up."

Maeve's laugh was genuine, a surprised burst of amusement. "Well, you're excelling at the mysterious act. And bonus points for the beard, by the way."

He leaned back, arms crossed, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "It does most of the heavy lifting."

Their server arrived, delivering another round: whiskey for Opie, gin for Maeve. She watched him take a slow sip, his gaze fixed on the table for a beat too long.

"You're not like most guys I've met," she observed.

"Yeah?" he asked, his eyes finally meeting hers. "That a good thing?"

Maeve propped her chin on her hand, studying him. "Depends. Most guys I meet either talk too much or they pretend to be something they're not. You're just... present. Real."

He nodded slowly. "That's the only thing I know how to be."

A comfortable silence settled between them, weighted with an unspoken understanding, as if something delicate was taking shape.

Maeve shifted, breaking the quiet. "So... SAMCRO. Does that ever get in the way of dating?"

Opie's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but his voice remained even. "Sometimes. The Club's a lot. People judge it. Some just don't get it."

"And you?" she pressed.

"I get it. Doesn't mean I always like it."

She looked at him carefully. "You ever want out?"

Opie's gaze lifted, steady and unreadable. "Not sure that's an option."

Maeve absorbed his words, filing that truth away. "Fair enough."

Another sip, another glance across the table. This time, Opie's eyes lingered a little longer on her.

"You don't scare easy," he noted.

"No," she agreed, "but I'm not stupid either."

He smirked. "Guess I'll have to earn your trust."

She leaned forward, her eyes playful yet sharp. "You planning on seeing me again?"

He didn't hesitate. "Yeah. I am."

Later that night, the air was cooler and quieter as he walked her to her car. She turned to face him, her hand resting on the door handle.

"Thanks for the drink. And the honesty."

Opie offered a slight nod. "You make it easy."

She looked at him for a moment, as if making a decision.

"I don't do drama, Opie."

"I'm not drama," he replied, his voice calm. "I'm just a guy trying to hold his world together."

That made her smile. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

"Then maybe I'll see you again."

He watched her drive off, hands in his pockets, the faint trace of her perfume still lingering in the air. For the first time in a long time, the suffocating grip of the past felt a little looser.

[etherealyoonghwa]

Simple Perfection

Opie Winston x female oc.

Warnings: none.

Word count: 143.

Maeve Blackwood masterlist

It wasn't often Opie got a night out just with Maeve. The clubhouse was a constant hub of activity, and even at home, the kids kept him busy. But tonight, he'd managed to carve out a few precious hours. He'd picked a quiet little diner, the kind with red vinyl booths and the smell of fried onions clinging to the air.

He watched Maeve across the table, the dim light catching the highlights in her hair. A small smile played on his lips. "Glad we did this," he murmured, reaching across to take her hand. His thumb gently stroked her knuckles. It was simple, nothing fancy, but the quiet intimacy of it was perfect. For a moment, the world outside the diner's window faded, and it was just the two of them, connected by a shared glance and the warmth of his touch.

[etherealyoonghwa]

Date Night

Jax Teller x female oc.

Warnings: mention of alcohol.

Word count: 136

Maeve Blackwood masterlist

It was Maeve's idea, of course. Jax, usually content with a beer and the hum of the garage, found himself at some fancy Italian place, the kind with linen napkins and whispers instead of shouts. Maeve, radiant in a dress that made his jaw clench, smiled at him over candlelight. "See?" she teased, "Not so bad, is it?" He grumbled, but a genuine smile tugged at his lips as he watched her. The pasta was surprisingly good, and the wine even better. For a few stolen hours, the rumble of Charming, the weight of the club, faded into the background. It was just them, two unlikely halves, stitching together a quiet, perfect night. Later, back in his arms, the roar of his Harley seemed a distant echo compared to the beat of her heart against his.

[etherealyoonghwa]

Anniversary Picnic

Juice Ortiz x female oc.

Warnings: none.

Word count: 100

Maeve Blackwood masterlist

Maeve adjusted the flickering fairy lights around their picnic blanket, the soft glow illuminating Juice's contented smile. "Perfect," she murmured, settling beside him. He uncorked the sparkling apple juice, a gentle fizz escaping. "Almost as perfect as you," he countered, pouring two glasses. Their fingers brushed, sending a familiar spark through them. The city hummed a distant lullaby, but here, under the patchwork of stars, only their laughter echoed. He leaned in, tracing the curve of her jaw. "Happy anniversary, my love." Maeve’s heart swelled. "Happy anniversary, Juice." Their lips met, a sweet, quiet promise beneath the vast, inky sky.

[etherealyoonghwa]

A Ride for Two

Chibs Telford x female oc.

Warnings: mention of alcohol

Word count: 455

Maeve Blackwood masterlist

Chibs wasn't one for fancy dinners or elaborate plans, but for Maeve Blackwood, he'd make an exception. He pulled up to her place on his Dyna, the engine's rumble a familiar comfort. Maeve, looking stunning in a simple dress that somehow managed to be both elegant and ready for a ride, met him with a smile that softened his usually guarded expression.

"Ready for an adventure, darlin'?" he asked, his Scottish burr a gentle rumble.

"Always, Chibs," she replied, her eyes sparkling.

He helped her onto the back of the bike, her hands finding their familiar place around his waist. Instead of hitting the open road, Chibs took them on a tour of Charming's less-traveled paths. They cruised past the old, moss-covered oak trees at the edge of town, their branches forming a natural archway. Maeve pointed out the wild roses climbing an abandoned fence, and Chibs, to her surprise, stopped so she could pick a few.

Their journey continued to a small, hidden lake he knew about, tucked away behind a copse of pines. The late afternoon sun was beginning to dip, casting a golden glow over the water. Chibs had, uncharacteristically, packed a small cooler with a couple of beers and some of Maeve's favorite chocolate. They sat on a worn blanket he'd laid out, sharing quiet conversation and the simple pleasure of each other's company.

As the sky turned to hues of orange and purple, Chibs found himself talking about things he rarely shared – memories of his youth, the quiet moments he cherished with the club, and even, haltingly, his hopes for a future that felt a little less chaotic with her by his side. Maeve listened, her hand resting gently on his arm, her presence a calming anchor.

When the stars began to pepper the darkening sky, Chibs stood and offered his hand. "Come on, darlin'. Got one more stop."

He took her to the highest point overlooking Charming, a spot where they could see the twinkling lights of the town spread out below them. The air was cool and crisp, and the silence was profound, broken only by the gentle hum of the distant town. He put his arm around her, and she leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder.

"It's beautiful, Chibs," she murmured.

"Aye, it is," he agreed, but his gaze was fixed on her, not the view. He turned her gently to face him, his eyes holding a warmth she'd come to cherish. "But not as beautiful as you, Maeve."

He lowered his head, and under the vast, star-filled sky, he kissed her, a promise in the gentle press of his lips. It wasn't a grand gesture, but for Chibs and Maeve, it was everything.

[etherealyoonghwa]

An Unlikely Alliance

Happy Lowman x female oc

Warnings: mention of cigs

Word count: 246

Maeve Blackwood masterlist

"You must be Happy," Maeve said, extending a hand as she stepped into the dimly lit garage. The scent of oil and old cigarettes hung heavy in the air, a familiar comfort to her.

The man who rose from beneath a truck, wiping grease from his hands with a rag, was exactly as Jax had described: broad, a bit rough around the edges, and with eyes that held a surprising depth. "And you must be Maeve," Happy Lowman grunted, his voice a low rumble. He took her hand, his grip firm. "Jax said you were… coming."

Maeve smirked, a quick flash of humor in her usually serious expression. "He has a way with words, doesn't he?" She glanced around the garage, taking in the organised chaos. "So, this is the legendary garage."

Happy just nodded, a slight flicker of something in his eyes that might have been amusement. He leaned back against a workbench, crossing his arms. "What can I do for ya, Maeve? Jax said you needed… a favour."

Maeve met his gaze, her smile fading as she got down to business. "I need a set of wheels. Something fast, reliable, and discreet. No questions asked." She knew Happy was the man for the job, his reputation for getting things done, no matter how unorthodox, preceded him.

Happy studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "Discreet, huh?" he finally said, a corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "You've come to the right place."

[etherealyoonghwa]

Unfamiliar Territory

Juice Ortiz x female oc.

Warnings: mention of alcohol.

Word count: 646

Maeve Blackwood masterlist

The stale air of the clubhouse, usually thick with the scent of stale beer and exhaust, seemed to hum with an unfamiliar tension. Maeve Blackwood, her presence a stark contrast to the rough-and-tumble décor, stood just inside the door, her gaze sweeping over the assembled Sons of Anarchy. Her tailored leather jacket, though subtly stylish, somehow felt like a suit of armor in this den of denim and ink.

She'd come to Charming on business – business that unfortunately involved the volatile and unpredictable world of SAMCRO. Clay had finally agreed to a meeting, but the apprehension clinging to him was palpable.

Then her eyes landed on him. He was younger than most of the patched members, with a restless energy that seemed barely contained. His dark hair fell over a striking, almost boyish face, but his eyes, despite their youth, held a depth that suggested he’d seen more than his fair share of the world. Juice. She'd heard the name, of course. Part of her research into the club.

Juice, meanwhile, had been trying to appear nonchalant, leaning against a pool table with a half-empty can of beer. But the moment the door opened and Maeve Blackwood stepped in, every instinct screamed at him to pay attention. She wasn't like the women who usually drifted through the clubhouse – the old ladies, the barflies, the occasional unfortunate civilian. She moved with an easy confidence, her eyes sharp and intelligent, missing nothing.

He saw her glance his way, a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze. He straightened up, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in his posture.

Clay, clearing his throat, finally broke the silence. "Maeve, this is Juice." He gestured vaguely in Juice's direction. "Juice, this is Maeve Blackwood. She's… handling some things for us."

Maeve offered a small, polite smile, though her eyes remained keen. "Mr. Ortiz." Her voice was low, with a subtle, cultured accent he couldn't quite place. It was smooth, like expensive whiskey.

Juice nodded, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and a nascent discomfort. "Ms. Blackwood." He didn't offer his hand. It wasn't the Sons' way with new people, especially those who weren't part of their world. But he felt a faint urge to, to see if her grip was as firm as her gaze.

Her eyes flickered over him again, a brief, assessing sweep. He felt a peculiar self-consciousness under her scrutiny, as if she were dissecting him, piece by piece. He wondered what she saw – just another patched-in grunt, or something more?

"I've heard a little about you," Maeve said, her tone neutral, but with an underlying current that suggested she'd heard a lot more than "a little." "You're… good with tech?"

Juice felt a flush creep up his neck. It was a well-known fact within the club, but hearing it from an outsider, especially one like her, felt different. "Yeah," he mumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I handle… computers. And stuff."

A faint, almost imperceptible amusement touched Maeve's lips. "Indeed. I imagine that comes in rather useful."

There was a moment of awkward silence, broken only by the low hum of the vending machine in the corner. Juice shifted his weight, suddenly acutely aware of his torn jeans and the grease stains on his kutte.

Clay, sensing the nascent tension, interjected. "Alright, let's get down to business, Maeve. We don't got all day."

Maeve's attention immediately snapped back to Clay, her professional demeanor firmly reasserting itself. As she turned, Juice let out a slow, silent breath. He watched her as she moved, her posture erect, her movements precise. She was a different breed altogether, a sharp, intelligent woman stepping into their chaotic world. And for some reason, he had a feeling their paths, despite this brief introduction, were far from done intersecting. The thought was both unsettling and, to his surprise, a little intriguing.

[etherealyoonghwa]

Boardroom meets Biker Bar

Tig Trager x female oc.

Warnings: mention of alcohol.

Word count: 563

Maeve Blackwood masterlist

A wave of heat hit Maeve as she stepped out of the air-conditioned car, the California sun already asserting its dominance even in the late morning. She smoothed down her simple black dress, feeling a pang of unease. Meeting new clients was never her favorite part of the job, especially when they were… less conventional. Still, a job was a job.

She walked into the dimly lit, cavernous building, the roar of Harley-Davidson engines almost immediately assaulting her ears. The air was thick with the scent of leather, oil, and something vaguely like stale beer. This was definitely a different world than the polished boardrooms she usually frequented.

"Can I help you, darlin'?" a gruff voice drawled from behind the counter.

Maeve turned to see a man with a weathered face, a long, greying beard, and a patched-up kutte. He had a surprisingly gentle glint in his eyes, considering the surroundings.

"I'm looking for Tig Trager," Maeve said, her voice a little louder than she intended to cut through the noise. "Maeve Blackwood, from Blackwood & Associates."

The man's eyebrows rose slightly. "Figured you were the one. He's in the back. Just head on through." He gestured with a thumb towards a doorway at the rear of the garage.

Taking a deep breath, Maeve navigated through a maze of motorcycles, tools, and tattooed men who barely gave her a second glance. As she neared the back, she heard a distinct laugh, high-pitched and almost manic. That had to be him.

She pushed through a swinging door into what appeared to be an office, albeit one that looked like a bomb had gone off. Papers were strewn everywhere, half-eaten food containers littered a desk, and a large, intimidating-looking man with a shaved head and a mischievous grin was leaning back in a chair, his boots propped up on a pile of what looked like financial statements.

"Well, well, well," Tig Trager said, his eyes sparkling as he took her in. He unlaced his boots from the desk and stood up, revealing a surprising height. "Maeve Blackwood, huh? Didn't think you'd be so... put-together." He gestured vaguely at her dress.

Maeve offered a small, professional smile. "And I didn't think you'd be so… at home." She gestured around the chaotic office, a slight smirk playing on her lips. "Given the nature of our meeting, I expected something a little more, shall we say, sterile."

Tig let out that distinctive laugh again. "Sterile? Honey, there ain't nothin' sterile about Charming. Or me." He walked around the desk, extending a hand. His grip was firm, surprisingly gentle. "So, Ms. Blackwood, you're the one who's gonna try and make sense of this mess, huh?"

"That's the plan, Mr. Trager," Maeve replied, a hint of steel in her voice. "And hopefully, turn it into something a bit more… profitable."

Tig's grin widened. "I like a woman who ain't afraid to get her hands dirty. Or at least, ain't afraid to look at my dirt." He gestured to the only clear chair in the room. "Have a seat. Let's see what you got."

Maeve sat, pulling out her briefcase. This was going to be an interesting client, to say the least. But as Tig settled back into his chair, a strange sense of anticipation, rather than dread, began to hum within her. Maybe "less conventional" wasn't always a bad thing.

[etherealyoonghwa]

A Cold Welcome

Jex Teller x female oc.

Warnings: mention of alcohol.

Word count: 407

Maeve Blackwood masterlist.

The low hum of the Telling Tree bar was a familiar comfort to Jax, but the woman who just walked in was anything but. She moved with a quiet intensity that turned heads without seeming to try. Her dark hair, almost black, was pulled back in a severe bun, and her sharp, intelligent eyes, the color of a stormy sky, scanned the room. She was dressed simply, in a tailored dark suit that somehow managed to be both understated and commanding.

Jax, nursing a beer at a corner table, watched her. She wasn't one of the usual crowd, not a prospect's girl, not a biker chick, not even a local. Her presence felt…different. Like a shift in the air pressure before a storm.

She walked directly to the bar, ignoring the casual glances, and ordered something Jax couldn't quite hear over the jukebox. The bartender, Chucky, usually unflappable, seemed a little flustered as he poured her drink.

After a moment, she turned, her gaze sweeping over the room once more before landing on Jax. There was no flirtation in her eyes, no curiosity, just a direct, almost assessing look that made him feel like a puzzle she was already solving. She picked up her drink and, to his surprise, began walking towards him.

"Jax Teller, I presume?" Her voice was low, with a crisp, almost melodic accent he couldn't quite place. Irish, maybe?

He raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Depends on who's asking."

She stopped across from his table, her drink held steadily in one hand. "Maeve Blackwood."

The name hung in the air, unfamiliar and yet, somehow, significant. He gestured to the empty chair opposite him. "Have a seat, Maeve Blackwood. What can I do for you?"

She took the seat, her movements precise and unhurried. Her stormy eyes held his, unwavering. "I believe you have something that belongs to me."

Jax leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening. "Do I now? And what would that be?"

"My brother," she said, her voice still calm, but with an underlying steel that sent a shiver down his spine. "You have my brother, and I've come to take him home."

The casual hum of the bar suddenly felt very far away. Jax looked at Maeve Blackwood, really looked at her, and knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his gut, that this was going to be anything but a simple conversation.

[etherealyoonghwa]

The Rusty Mug

Tig Trager x female oc.

Warnings: fighting, mention of alcohol.

Word count: 612.

Maeve Blackwood masterlist

The dim lighting of "The Rusty Mug" was supposed to be romantic, or at least, that's what Tig Trager had promised. Maeve, a woman whose patience was as thin as the profit margins at the garage she managed, had agreed to this date with a weary sigh and a prayer for an early night. Tig, resplendent in a freshly laundered (and suspiciously bright pink) shirt, beamed at her across the scarred wooden table.

"So, Maeve," he began, swirling the head off his stout, "ain't this somethin'? Real cozy, real...us."

Maeve raised an eyebrow. "Us? Tig, last time I saw 'us,' you were covered in oil, yelling at a carburetor, and I was trying to stop an interstate pile-up caused by one of your deliveries."

Tig chuckled, a sound that resembled gravel being churned. "Ah, the good old days! But tonight, it's different. Tonight, it's about us." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Got a little surprise planned after this, too."

Maeve's stomach lurched. Tig's "surprises" usually involved questionable establishments, loud music, and at least one near-arrest. "A surprise? Tig, darling, my idea of a surprise is finding my keys where I left them."

Before Tig could elaborate, a commotion erupted near the entrance. A man, clearly several sheets to the wind, stumbled in, loudly proclaiming his disdain for the quality of the beer. Tig, ever the protector of establishments, bristled.

"Some folks just got no respect," he muttered, flexing his biceps.

"Don't even think about it, Tig," Maeve warned, her voice low and steady. "We're on a date. Remember? Romance, candlelight, avoiding public brawls."

Tig nodded, though his eyes kept darting towards the brewing argument. Just as the bartender was about to usher the inebriated man out, a group of particularly rowdy bikers – not SAMCRO, but close enough to make Maeve's senses tingle – decided to join the fray, siding with the belligerent patron.

"Oh, for crying out loud," Maeve muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Tig, however, saw his moment. "Hold my beer, Maeve," he said, pushing his chair back with a scrape.

"Tig, no!" Maeve hissed, but it was too late. Tig, a man who believed in direct action, was already striding towards the escalating confrontation.

What followed was a blur of flailing limbs, overturned tables, and the distinctive sound of breaking glass. Maeve watched, mortified, as Tig, with a surprising agility for his build, managed to land a few solid blows before being swarmed. The "romantic" dinner was now a full-blown bar fight.

Maeve sighed, pulling out her phone. She didn't even bother to call the police; she knew Tig's "friends" would be here before the sirens. Instead, she dialed the one person she knew could handle this particular brand of chaos.

"Jax," she said into the phone, her voice weary. "Your VP is in a bar fight at The Rusty Mug. And no, it wasn't my idea of a romantic evening."

When the dust finally settled, Tig, sporting a black eye and a triumphant grin, limped back to the table, adjusting his now-torn pink shirt. "See? Told ya it'd be exciting."

Maeve, already halfway out the door, didn't even look back. "Exciting, Tig, is figuring out how to balance the books after you blow up another one of your clients' vehicles. This," she gestured vaguely at the wreckage, "this is just Tuesday."

As she walked out into the cool night air, leaving Tig to explain the structural damage to the bewildered bartender, Maeve decided that her next date would be with a good book and a very, very strong cup of tea. And maybe, just maybe, she'd block Tig's number for a week or two. Just for peace of mind.

[etherealyoonghwa]

The Weight of the Garage

Chibs Telford x female oc.

Warnings: mention of scars.

Word count: 547

Maeve Blackwood masterlist.

The scent of oil and gasoline hung heavy in the air, a familiar perfume to Maeve Blackwood. She’d always found a strange comfort in garages, a no-nonsense world of metal and grease that felt more honest than most. But TM, a local garage she’d never used before, had a different vibe. A low rumble of conversation, punctuated by the clang of tools, spilled from the open bay doors. This wasn’t just a repair shop; it felt like a hub.

Maeve pushed open the office door, the bell above her head jingling. The small waiting area was surprisingly tidy, with a worn but clean couch and a few car magazines fanned out on a low table. No one was immediately visible, but she could hear voices from the garage proper.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice a little softer than she’d intended.

A moment of silence, then a heavy clunk, and a man emerged from the shadows of the garage bay. He was tall, powerfully built, with a density about him that seemed to absorb the light. His greying hair was styled out of his face, a face that was a roadmap of experience – a few scars, a perpetually weary set to his eyes, and a beard that framed a perpetually solemn mouth. He wore a grease-stained t-shirt that stretched across a broad chest, and his hands, though smudged, looked capable.

Maeve, who usually met new people with a polite smile, found herself momentarily speechless. There was an intensity to him, a quiet power that was both unsettling and strangely captivating. He didn't smile, didn't offer a greeting, just stood there, his gaze unblinking as he took her in.

“Can I help you?” His voice was a low rumble, gravelly but not unkind. It held a subtle edge, like a warning, but also a hint of something deeper, something burdened.

Maeve finally found her voice. “Yes, hi. I’m Maeve Blackwood. I called earlier about a diagnostic check on my old Impala? It’s making a… well, it’s a concerning clunking sound.” She gestured vaguely towards the street outside, where her classic car sat.

He nodded slowly, still not moving. “Filip.” He offered the name without a handshake, without fanfare. Just “Filip.”

“Filip,” she repeated, a small, involuntary smile touching her lips. The name suited him – strong, simple, a little old-fashioned. “Right. So, Filip, do you think you’d be able to take a look today?”

He finally pushed off the doorframe, a faint metallic scent clinging to him as he moved. He walked past her, his gaze briefly meeting hers again, and she felt a flicker of something she couldn't quite place – a profound sadness, perhaps, or a deep-seated resignation. He reached for a clipboard hanging on the wall near the door.

“Pop the hood,” he said, his back to her as he scribbled something on the sheet. “I’ll be right out.”

As he walked past her again to head outside, Maeve watched him go. There was an aura about him, a quiet gravitas that made her wonder about his story. This wasn't just a mechanic; this was a man who carried a weight, a depth that intrigued her. She had a feeling that getting her car fixed here might involve more than just a repair bill.

[etherealyoonghwa]

A Familiar Face

Opie Winston x female oc.

Warnings: Donna's death.

Word Count: 486

Maeve Blackwood masterlist

The clang of a wrench hitting concrete echoed through TM, followed by a frustrated grunt. Maeve Blackwood, perched on a worn bench near the office, winced in sympathy. She'd been waiting for nearly an hour for Chibs to look at her sputtering sedan, and the garage was a symphony of revving engines, clanking tools, and terse conversations.

She recognized the broad shoulders and familiar slouch of the man currently wrestling with a truck engine. It was Opie Winston. She hadn’t seen him since that awful day, months ago, when she’d brought her car in after Donna’s funeral. The memory was still vivid: Opie, hollow-eyed and raw, locked in a heated argument with his mother right here in the garage. Maeve had pretended to be engrossed in a magazine, but she’d overheard enough to know the depth of his pain.

He finally stood up, wiping grease from his brow with the back of his hand, and spotted her. His eyes, still holding a lingering sadness, widened slightly in recognition.

"Maeve?" he said, his voice a low rumble. "Didn't expect to see you here."

She offered a small, hesitant smile. "Just my luck. My car decided to stage a protest this morning. Chibs is supposed to be looking at it."

Opie nodded, glancing toward her car, then back at her. The air was thick with unspoken understanding. They hadn't exchanged more than a few words that day after the funeral, but the shared experience of witnessing his grief had forged a strange, silent connection.

"How… how have you been, Opie?" she asked, choosing her words carefully.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his dark hair. "You know. Taking it a day at a time." His gaze drifted over her shoulder, past the busy garage. "Still weird to be here without… without her."

Maeve's heart ached for him. She remembered the fierce protectiveness in his mother's voice during their argument, the desperate attempt to reach him. It was clear that the void Donna left was still immense.

"I can only imagine," Maeve said softly. "I'm so sorry, again, for your loss."

He finally met her gaze, and for a fleeting moment, the raw pain she remembered from that day resurfaced. "Thanks, Maeve. That means something." He paused, then gestured vaguely around the garage. "So, uh, what's wrong with your car?"

The shift in topic, however slight, was a welcome reprieve. "Oh, just about everything, it seems," she replied, a genuine smile finally touching her lips. "It sounds like a dying badger trying to clear its throat."

Opie actually let out a small, tired chuckle. "Sounds like it's in the right place then. We specialize in badger-throated vehicles."

A comfortable silence settled between them, punctuated by the sounds of the garage. It wasn't a conversation that offered solutions, but it was a shared moment of quiet understanding, a testament to the unexpected connections forged in the aftermath of tragedy.