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Misery Loves Company

Part 4

1 2 3

1.6k words

Jax Teller x Fem!reader

Background: Tara doesn’t want to accept the new reality so Gemma handles it for her.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of drug use, criminal past, cheating themes, eventual smut MDNI, show spoilers, unrealistic adaptations of being on the run and probation, Unrealistic things in general but it’s tumblr anything is possible.

a/n: This will be a 4-5 partish series will a few blurbs if you have any request you can send them I’d love to write your thoughts <3, this is also written with a black female reader in mind but anyone can read as long as you aren't being weird. Also thank you to my baby @starfxkrinc for proofreading mwah I love you so much‹3, last but not least enjoy! Also thank you so much for the love on part one and two! Enjoy my babies<3 one more part after this!

One Week Later

Tara’s world is unraveling.

It’s been seven days since You and Jax came back to Charming, seven days since he stepped out of that van with you at his side. Seven days, and he still hasn’t come home. Instead, he’s holed up in the clubhouse with you, the woman he threw his entire life away for.

And the worst part? The only time Tara’s allowed to see him is when she’s bringing the boys.

Tara grips the steering wheel as she pulls into Teller-Morrow, her hands white-knuckled. The sun is just beginning to set, casting long shadows over the lot. She parks and takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself before grabbing Abel and Thomas from the car.

Inside the clubhouse, it’s the same scene as always. The guys are around, drinking, laughing like nothing is wrong. Like Jax hasn’t abandoned his family.

She finds him in his room, the one he used to bring her to, back when they were young and reckless and in love. Now, it’s your space. The door is cracked open just enough for Tara to see inside. Jax is on the bed, stretched out lazily, while you’re curled up beside him, legs draped over his, looking like you belong there.

Rage boils in Tara’s chest.

She pushes the door open with more force than necessary. Jax glances up, barely reacting, while you simply watch, calm and collected.

“You got the boys?” Jax asks, pushing himself up.

Tara glares at him. “Yeah, I have the boys.” She steps inside, setting Thomas’s car seat down while Abel shuffles in behind her. He barely hesitates before climbing up onto the bed next to you, curling into your side like he’s done it a hundred times before.

Tara swallows the lump in her throat. “This is bullshit, Jax.”

Jax sighs, rubbing his face. “Tara”

“No, don’t Tara me.” Her voice shakes with barely contained anger. “You come back after God knows what, and instead of coming home, you hide out here with her? You don’t even see me unless I have your sons with me.”

Jax’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue.

Tara lets out a bitter laugh. “You don’t even care, do you? About what you’re doing to me? To them?” She gestures to the boys, her voice rising. “You’re just gonna keep playing house with her and pretend like I don’t exist?”

Jax exhales heavily, looking at her like she’s an inconvenience. “I’m trying to keep shit from getting worse.”

“Worse?” Tara scoffs. “You are the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Jax finally looks at her then, his eyes darkening. For a second, she swears she sees something in them regret, maybe but it’s gone before she can be sure.

“You done?” he asks, voice flat.

Tara’s blood runs hot. You glance at her again, watching quietly from the bed, a small, knowing smile playing at your lips. Like you’ve already won.

Tara’s hands curl into fists at her sides.

She turns on her heel and storms out.

The message is clear: she’s not part of his life anymore.

But? She refuses to accept that.

Tara wasn’t stupid. She saw the way Jax stood close to you, the way his hand lingered on the small of your back when he thought no one was looking. She saw the way Abel gravitated toward you, how Thomas, still just a baby, curled against you like its where he belonged.

And the worst part?

No one else seemed to care.

The guys at the clubhouse welcomed you like you’d been there all along. Chibs, Opie, even Happy, Happy treated you like family. You laughed with them, drank with them, fit into their world like it was nothing.

Tara was being erased. And no one gave a damn.

So she does the only thing she can do.

Gemma.

So the next night, she’s sitting in Gemma’s kitchen, a glass of whiskey in front of her, hands clenched into fists. Gemma watches her, unimpressed, stirring sugar into her coffee like she’s got all the time in the world.

“He’s shutting me out,” Tara snaps, voice low but shaking. “He won’t even talk to me unless I bring the boys. And her, he’s with her every second of the day. He won’t even come home.”

Gemma takes a slow sip, tilting her head. “And?”

Gemma sighs, long and slow, before tipping back her drink. Then she stands, smoothing down her leather jacket.

“You done?”

Tara glares. “No. I’m not done. I—”, as if she didn’t hear her right. “And? What do you mean, and? He’s supposed to be with me, with his family.”

Gemma scoffs. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what fantasy you’ve been livin’ in, but Jax ain’t been yours for a long time.”

Tara’s face twists in frustration. “That’s bullshit.”

“No, what’s bullshit,” Gemma says, leaning forward, voice low and even, “is you thinkin’ you could take my son away from the club. You been tryin’ to turn him into somethin’ he ain’t since day one. And now? He finally sees you for what you are.”

Tara shakes her head, eyes burning. “This isn’t about the club, and you know it.”

Gemma smiles, slow and knowing. “Oh, baby, this is always about the club.”

Tara opens her mouth to argue, but before she can, Gemma stands up, stretching like she’s shaking off a long, tiring conversation. Then she steps around the table and grips Tara’s chin between her fingers, forcing her to look up.

“You’ve been a problem for too long,” Gemma murmurs. “And I’m real tired of your mouth.”

Tara jerks away, eyes wide now, something flickering in them. Fear.

She knows.

Gemma moves fast. Too fast. One second, she’s just standing there, the next she’s got a fistful of Tara’s hair, dragging her toward the back hallway.

Tara yelps, struggling, but Gemma is stronger. Meaner. And she’s had enough of Tara’s mouth.

The moment they’re alone, Gemma slams Tara against the wall, eyes cold. “You don’t get it, do you, sweetheart?” she murmurs. “Jax ain’t yours no more. He made his choice. And you? You’re just a problem I need to fix.”

Realization dawns in Tara’s eyes.

“No,” she breathes. “Gemma—”

But by the time she moves, it’s already too late.

The guns already been let off.

The next morning, Tara is nowhere to be found.

The guys don’t ask questions. Not when Gemma tells them what needs to be done. Not when they’re scrubbing blood off the concrete in the dead of night. Not when they load a body into a car and drive it out to a place where no one will ever find it.

By the time the sun rises, it’s like she never existed.

The clubhouse is quiet, but there’s an energy in the air, something shifting beneath the surface. A few of the guys Tig, Happy, even Chibs have been around longer than most. They don’t ask questions. They just handle things.

By the time the sun comes up, there’s no trace of Tara Knowles.

And no one seems to notice.

Or if they do, they don’t care.

No one asks questions. No one looks too hard. Because this is Charming, and Gemma Teller knows how to clean up a mess.

And when Jax finally comes home to the house Tara so desperately wanted him back in he doesn’t come alone.

He comes with you.

When he wakes up that morning, you’re still beside him, curled up in his bed, the early light filtering through the window. He reaches over, brushes his fingers along your arm, and you stir, eyes fluttering open.

This is it. This is his life now.

Tara is gone.

But you?

You’re still here.

You step into the role seamlessly. You don’t try to replace Tara, don't force anything, but it doesn’t matter. Because Abel already loves you. Because Thomas still needs someone to hold him, to feed him, to soothe his cries in the middle of the night.

And Jax?

Jax finally looks at peace.

The first night without Tara, Abel cries himself to sleep. The second night, he asks for his mommy. By the third, he just clings to you.

Jax doesn’t talk about it. Doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t want the details. He just knows Gemma handled it. Knows Tara’s gone.

And he lets it happen.

Because deep down, he knows what Gemma does: Tara was always a problem. A liability. A weight around his neck, dragging him down.

But you?

You fit.

The guys love you. Tig calls you Mama Bear. Happy doesn’t say much, but he’s always around, always watching your back. Chibs smirks and calls you Jax’s old lady like it’s already set in stone.

Even Thomas barely more than a baby settles against you like he’s known you forever.

And Abel?

Abel adores you. He follows you around the house, tugs at your hand, curls up against you when he’s tired. When he cries, it’s you he reaches for.

One night, Jax walks in to find you sitting on the couch, Abel curled up in your lap, Thomas asleep in your arms.

And something in him settles.

Maybe this was how it was always meant to be.

So when Abel looks up at him, eyes heavy with sleep, and asks,

“Is she my new mommy now?”

Jax doesn’t hesitate.

“Yeah, buddy.” He brushes a hand over his son’s hair, voice steady. “She is.”

Gemma watches it all unfold with satisfaction.

She’s never liked any of Jax’s women. But you?

You’re different.

You get it.

And that makes you the perfect old lady.

Tags<3: @smokahontas-113 @secretlysamcro @fallout-girl219 @daryldixonswifesworld

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💋💋

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Misery Loves Company

Part 3

1 2

837 words

Jax Teller x Fem!reader

Background: You and Jax need to get out of the hell hole motel you’ve called home for the past few days but at what cost?

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of drug use, criminal past, cheating themes, eventual smut MDNI, show spoilers.

a/n: I’m so sorry for the delay guys I’ve been so busy but thank you for being patient with me here’s a little filler part to get me writing.This will be a 4-5 partish series will a few blurbs in between cos if you have any request you can send them<3, this is also written with a black female reader in mind but anyone can read as long as you aren't being weird. Also thank you to my baby @starfxkrinc for proofreading mwah I love you so much<3, last but not least enjoy! Also thank you so much for the love on part one and two! Enjoy my babies<3

Three Days Later

The motel room hasn’t gotten any better. The walls still reek of cigarette smoke and desperation, the buzzing neon sign outside still flickers against the cracked windowpane. But after three days, you and Jax have settled into it like it’s some kind of twisted safe haven.

The days are filled with nothing but passionate sex and late night conversations about life after all of this cools down.

Jax hasn’t said much about what happened in the halfway house. He doesn’t ask if you regret it. And you don’t offer. Maybe because there’s nothing to regret. Maybe because, deep down, you both know there’s no coming back from this anyway.

But Jax knows one thing: this limbo can’t last. They’ll come looking for you both soon. If they aren’t already.

So, he makes the call.

The burner phone is cheap, one of those prepaid ones he picked up from a gas station down the road. He sits on the edge of the stained motel bed, rubbing a hand over his face before dialing the number he knows by heart.

It rings once. Twice. Then,

“Yeah?”

Chibs’ voice is gruff, tired. Jax exhales, a tight, exhausted breath, before speaking.

“It’s me.”

There’s silence on the other end. Then, a sharp inhale.

“The fuck? Jax?”

“Yeah”

“How the hell” Chibs cuts himself off. His voice lowers. “Jesus Christ, Jackie. Where are you?”

Jax glances at you. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, legs tucked under you, watching him carefully. Your gaze is unreadable, but you don’t look away.

“Some shithole motel outside Stockton,” Jax mutters. He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Listen, man. I need help.”

“Help?” Another beat of silence. “Alright, start from the beginning.”

And so he does.

He tells Chibs everything. The halfway house. The months of feeling trapped. The nights spent with you, where the weight of his old life didn’t crush him. The way things spiraled with Brittany. How it ended in blood. How he ran. How you both ran.

By the time he’s done, there’s a long silence. Then, another voice filters through the line.

“The fuck, Jax.”

Opie.

Jax closes his eyes. He should’ve known Chibs wouldn’t be the only one listening.

“Yeah,” Jax mutters. “I know.”

There’s a pause. Then Opie’s voice comes again, slower this time.

“So let me get this straight. You’re on the run. With a chick you met in a halfway house. While Tara and your boys are back in Charming?”

Jax flinches. “Yeah.”

Chibs exhales sharply. “Jesus Christ.”

Neither of them say what he already knows. That this is reckless. That it’s dangerous. That it’s insane.

But they don’t tell him he’s wrong, either.

Because they know Jax Teller. They know when his mind is made up.

“You got a plan?” Opie finally asks.

Jax shakes his head, even though they can’t see him. “Not yet.”

“Well,” Chibs mutters, “I guess it’s a good thing we do.”

Back to Charming

It takes another day for the plan to come together. Another night spent in the motel, listening to the sound of semi-trucks roaring down the highway, waiting for the knock at the door.

When it comes, it’s 3 A.M.

Jax peers through the window, then exhales. “It’s them.”

You stand, grabbing the duffel bag you packed the night before. Jax takes it from you, his touch brief but firm, before opening the door.

Chibs and Opie are standing there, both looking as worn and wary as ever.

“The hell did you get yourself into, Jackie?” Chibs mutters.

Jax smirks, but it’s hollow. “Same shit, different day.”

Opie eyes you for a long moment. His expression is unreadable, but there’s no outright hostility in it. Just quiet assessment. Then, finally

“You coming or what?”

And just like that, you’re gone.

The ride back to Charming is quiet. The tension in the van is thick, pressing against your ribs, but no one says a word. You don’t know these men, not really. But they’re Jax’s family, and that means they’re the closest thing to safety you’ve got.

But safety is short-lived.

Because when you finally roll up to the clubhouse, just as the sun begins to rise, there’s already someone waiting.

Tara.

She stands in front of the building, arms crossed, still in her scrubs, hair pulled back in that tight, no-nonsense way. Her face is pale, eyes sharp with something that looks a hell of a lot like betrayal.

She takes a step forward.

Then stops.

Because Jax isn’t alone.

And when her gaze shifts to you, something flickers in her eyes. Not just anger.

Hurt.

The air is thick with silence. Chibs and Opie exchange glances but don’t intervene.

A low, amused hum.

Gemma.

She stands off to the side, arms crossed, a slow smirk curling her lips as she watches the scene unfold.

“Well, well,” she murmurs. “Ain’t this somethin’.”

Tara’s jaw tightens.

Jax exhales, stepping forward.

“Jax.”

Tara’s voice is quiet. Sharp.

“What the hell have you done?”

Tags<3: @smokahontas-113 @secretlysamcro @fallout-girl219

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Omg this is soooo good wtf🖤his little butch was crazy as fick I’m glad she learned her place.

Black female reader x Jax Teller Explicit language, violent language & possible spoilers. If you're under the age of 18, haven't finished the show or dislike any of said topics, please read no further.

Request: "Jax x Black reader where they’re married. Also, they’re been separated for a little while and Jax keeps letting his little girlfriends forget their place until she has to come set the record straight about who’s really the queen of Samcro."

Backstory: y/n and Jax met shortly after Abel was born, Wendy out of the picture, the two grew closer and closer. Abel looks at y/n as the mother figure in his life. About two years later, Jax and y/n got married, had their own son together, Cain. However, with the stress of the club and other various outside factors, the two decided to separate for a while. They’re still married, and still on good terms, mainly for the kids though. Jax, spends most his time at the clubhouse or Gemma’s, if not though he sleeps in the boys room or on the sofa.

"Okay" you say, your voice barely above a whisper. It feels like surrender, something the two of you, are not used to. Deep down though, you know its the right choice. Even if it breaks you.

Jax watches you, really looks at you, and for a moment his mask slips. You see it, you've been with him long enough to know what he's thinking. To know that the weight of this decision is pressing down on him just as much as it is on you.

"Okay" he echoes, but his voice is rough, like it physically hurts to say out loud.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to hold it together. "What are we gonna tell the boys?" Your voice is strong, but inside you're screaming.

He drums his fist against the counter, a restless, frustrated motion. "Nothin" he says, shaking his head. "For now, it wont be that different. They start to notice then...then we'll figure somethin' out"

Jax has always been a master at building up walls, pretending things never hurt when they did. And right now, you can see him doing just that.

Jax stood in the doorway of the house that he used to share with you and the boys. It had been a while since he'd been or stayed here.

At first, not much had changed, aside from no longer sharing the same bed. He'd crash in the boys room or try to get comfortable on the couch. But now, over 6 months later, things were different. The boy's had sleepovers with him at Gemma's or he spent his nights in the clubhouse dorm.

The decorations were simple, but perfect. Different tones of blue balloons, a little "Happy 3rd Birthday" banner and a table stacked with gifts.

Cain was in the middle of the room, his little face lighting up when he spotted his Dad. "Daddy!" he squealed running full force into Jax's legs. He scooped him up without thinking, pressing a kiss to his son's curls. "Happy Birthday little man".

Abel wasn't far behind, standing by the couch with his hands in his pockets, watching. He was quieter that Cain, more observant and Jax felt the weight of his son's stare.

Abel gave a small smile. "Hi Daddy" Jax sets Cain down as he takes Abel into his arms. "Hey buddy" he studies his older sons face "you doin' good?"

Abel was quiet, but he wasn’t blind. He noticed everything. Cain, still too young to pick up on it, but Abel wasn’t. He noticed the little changes, before they grew bigger. How Daddy started sleeping in their room instead of Mommy’s. How Daddy wasn’t there for dinner anymore, always coming home a little later. How Mommy never told Daddy she loved him, not like she used to. Then the bigger changes, Daddy started staying at Grandmas, at first just for a night, then two, until it turned into weeks, months.

Now, Daddy doesn’t come home at all.

You set a tray of snacks on the table, working alongside Gemma as she sets down the last of the food. As you step into the living room, that’s when you see him. Standing with the boys, his head tilted down as they talk. Their faces lit up with joy, clearly happy to have their dad back home, even if it is just for the day.

You hold your breath. It's been a minute since you've seen him face to face. The last few months have been nothing but texts and quick calls, strictly about the boys. Nothing else.

You keep your distance, arms crossed as you watch him. He's knelt between the two boys, listening as they take turns telling him one thing after another. You can tell he feels you standing there but he drags the conversation out, like he's bracing himself for whatever comes next.

"You're early" your voice comes out even. You weren't expecting him yet. The other guests haven't even arrived.

"Yeah" he exhales, stuffing his hands in his pockets as you both watch the boys running off over to Gemma. "Figured I'd get some time in with the boys before shit gets crazy" a smirk tugs at his lips, memories flashing behind his eyes. "You know how these parties go"

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head as flashes of Abel's last birthday party come rushing back. Kids screaming, juice stains on the carpet and Juice himself sprawled out on the couch, too drunk to even be embarrassed about getting that wasted at a kid's party.

Jax shifts on his feet. "Told some of the guys they could come by" he says, watching you carefully, like he's waiting for some form of pushback.

You shrug, nodding towards the kitchen where the bottles of liquor line the counter "Yeah, I was expecting them anyway" a smile creeps on your face "Thats for after the kids are gone though, yeah? maybe remind Juice of that this time"

He laughs, shaking his head "yeah, wish me luck"

"I gotta go get ready" you glance at the clock. "Can you watch the boys while Gemma finishes up in the kitchen?

Jax nods, with one of those blank expressions on his face. "Yeah, course, I got 'em"

You hesitate for a second, then nod. "Cool".

As you turn to walk to the bedroom, you feel his eyes on you. Like he wants to say something but stops himself. You don't give him the chance though, disappearing down the hall before anything heavier can come of it.

The party is in full swing now, the house buzzing with laughter and conversation. Abel and Cain sit together, admiring the pile of gifts, and its clear which one is his favorite. The monster truck collection and track that Jax had got for him. Cain hasn't let go of one of the trucks since he unwrapped it, his little hands gripping it tightly as he watching the other kids race around, weaving in and out of the adults.

The rooms packed with familiar faces. Your family, Jax's family, and of course some of the club. Voices are overlapping, there's stories being told over plates of food. Cooked by none other than your mama. But you being the one in charge, you barely have time to sit and enjoy it. You're too busy making sure everyone else is being catered for.

You step into the kitchen, pressing your back against the counter, fingers gripping the edge like its the only thing holding you up. Your head tilts back, eyes shutting for just a second. That's all you need, a second away from the chaos, the kids, and the forced smiles and conversations,

Little did you know, that peace was about to be shattered.

"Lookin' a bit stressed" his voice cuts through the moment, smooth and familiar.

Your eyes open, and when you turn your head, Jax is leant against the fridge, hands tucked in his pockets, watching you.

You force another smile. "Yeah, just needed a second. I'll be better once the kids go and its just us, then, I can have a drink"

Jax raises a brow "Us?"

You let out a small laugh "Yeah, you know, the ones who are left after the party dies down, the usual crowd" You smirk, referring to the club brothers who always stick around long after the party finishes. It's never bothered you though, if anything it was always your favourite part of hosting these sorta things.

Jax chuckles, nodding "Right... the ones who don't know when to leave".

You laugh with him, grabbing a cloth off the counter and wiping down a spot that doesn't need it. Anything to keep your hands busy, to stop from holding the eye contact too long.

The tension in the kitchen thickens for just a second as Jax steps further in, pushing off the fridge and gripping the back of one of the chairs with both hands. His rings clink softly against the wood, a familiar sound, one that used to mean he was home.

"You did good" he says, his voice low, like he means it more than he's letting on. His eyes flick to Abel, who's sat talking to Happy, and Cain, dramatically telling his little friend something that seems like the most important thing in the world. A ghost of a smile pulls at his lips before he looks back at you.

"Boys look happy" he continues, his voice quieter now. "haven't seen em smile like this for a while"

You exhale quick through your nose, giving yourself a moment before speaking. "Yeah, well... that probably has more to do with you being here" you pause, "you know, being at home"

The words land heavy between the two of you, he shifts gripping the chair a little tighter before letting his fingers loosen. "Been a while, huh?" he mutters

You don't say anything, just nod, lips pressing together.

Jax clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know you can call me, if you need anything" he speaks clear, like he's trying to make sure you really hear him "just cause we're...you know..." he stops, brows joining in the middle.

You tilt your head, making air quotes "separated?" you say, emphasising the word with a small trace of doubt.

A grin twitched at the corner of his mouth, as if he knows just as much as you, this separation most likely wont last much longer. "Yeah" he looks down before making eye contact again. "It don't mean you gotta do this all on your own. You ever need help with anything, you know I’ve got you?"

There's something so genuine in the way he says it, it catches you off guard. You nod, running your finger along the edge of your lips to smooth out your gloss. "I know" you add, this time offering a real smile, not one of those forced ones you’ve been giving all day.

For a second, and just a second, it feels as if nothing has changed.

And then, that peace we were talking about earlier?

This is when it fucks up.

Chibs steps into the kitchen, his presence breaking whatever was lingering in the air. You barely look at him before turning back around, about to repour his usual, but then, he takes a step closer to Jax, voice low for only him to hear.

"Lola's outside Jackie, she's askin' for ya" he sucks in a breath as he finishes the sentence.

Jax scoffs, clearly irritated "You gotta be fuckin' kidding me" he mutters, dragging a hand over his face, already storming towards the front door.

Your grip tightens around the whiskey bottle, the glass cool against your palm. Your attention panning over to Chibs now, waiting for an answer you know damn well he aint gonna give.

"Who did you say was here?" you ask, your voice edged with something sharp.

Chibs presses his lips together, baring his teeth in the slightest, like he's debating what to say. Like he already knows whatever comes next is gonna set you off.

"you gonna make me go out there and find out?"

Chibs exhales, darting his eye contact away from you "not my problem, lass"

Your nostrils flare as you set the bottle down, hard. The sound of the glass against the wood snapping through the tension. Then, you push past him. Your anger already misdirected, but he doesn't take it personally. He mutters something under his breath about not wanting to be in the middle of this shit, as he watches you follow Jax towards the front door. Jax stands in the doorway, his posture screaming irritation. hes holding his hands folded accross his chest like he's stopping himself from making a bad decision. But it's not him you focus on.

Its her.

Blonde, young and dressed like she stepped straight out of a Red Woody production. Tight mini skirt clinging to everything it possibly could. A fucking croweater.

Your lips part in disbelief "Who's this?" you say, pushing past Jax just enough to plant yourself in the conversation, making sure this little whore sees exactly who's house she decided to show up at.

He doesn't even look at you, his jaw clenches, hard enough to crack a fucking tooth. "No one" he grits out. His patience clearly already running thin.

The blonde's lips curl into a smile. Her eyes looking you up and down, noticing your expression, your stance and the way you squared up next to Jax without hesititation.

"So you must be the baby mama" she says, voice fake with sweetness, but its the way she says it that makes your fist curl at your sides. Like an insult.

She knows exactly what she's doing.

Jax says something under his breath, running a hand over his face like he already knows what's about to happen next. He moves uncomfortably, his eyes flicking between the ground, the blonde, and then finally to you.

And the second he does?

Yeah, he's fucked.

Jax hasn't seen you this mad in a long time, and judging by the way your hands are fidgeting like you're ready to swing, you're barely holding yourself back. You let out a slow, controlled breath, pressing your fingers to the bridge of your nose before lifting your head towards him.

"Jackson?"

His lower jaw swings side to side at the sound of you using his full name, he's about to open his mouth to speak.

"Nah" you lift a hand, cutting him off before he even gets a word out. "don't even try it"

He sighs, shaking his head "Look, I didn't-"

"I don't give a fuck" you snap, stepping forward so your right in his space "what I do care about is why the fuck she is standing at my door like she has any fucking right to be here".

The blonde scoffs, crossing her arms like she's got something to say, but you don't even look at her. She doesn't exist right now.

"I never asked her to come here-"

"Well she’s fuckin' here, so now what?"

Silence, he doesn't have an answer.

You finally turn back to her, dragging your gaze over her like she's nothing. Your head tilts, your finger gesturing between the two of them. Your voice sounding calm, too fucking calm.

"You’re fuckin’ her?"

Its not an accusation, its not even a real question. It's a statement that you're waiting to be confirmed.

Jax stiffens, his eyes showing something unreadable, but you know him enough to catch it.

And that's all you needed.

You press your lips together, nodding slowly as the rage ignites. Now ain't the time. Not with a house full of people. Not with Cain's birthday in full swing.

A hundred thoughts race through your mind. How the fuck did she even know where to come? and why the fuck was she comfortable enough to just roll up like it was nothing. Jax is already fucking somebody else? She just called you his baby mama?

She's real fucking lucky it's Cains birthday.

And so is Jax, cause if it wasn't? You woulda had them both by the throat.

You stand in the kitchen, twisting the cap off the bottle of whiskey. You don't pour much, just enough to take the edge off while keeping things under control with the kids still around. The burn settles in your chest as you lean against the counter, a humourless laugh leaving your mouth. Your eyes land on the cake, monster trucks, flames, absolutely perfect for Cain. You pull open the drawer, grabbing three leftover candles and pressing them in without hesitation. With a deep breath, you straighten up, push it all aside and step back into the mayhem, back to hosting, back to being a mom, as if the betrayal isn’t coursing through your veins. “Time for cake!” you call out across the living room.

The energy in the room has changed, even if it is only you and Jax who sense it. Normally, this is the part where you’d catch Jax’s eye, give him the silent cue that it’s time to do this together, but this time, you don’t even look at him.

Cain, Abel and the other kids come running over, eyes wide with excitement, their little hands gripping at the table as they bounce on their feet.

"You need help?"

You don’t look at him, you don't even pause.

"No." your response is sharp and final, crouching down beside Cain.

You pull the lighter from your pocket, flicking it once, and then twice until the tiny flames catch the candles. The warm glow flickering across his face, his grin pure and unfiltered, and for a brief second, it softens the rage simmering in your chest, because this is what really matters.

Cain, stands there with his eyes squeezed shut, his breath puffing out his candles, his whole world world still so simple, and that's just how you intend to keep it.

The house is finally quiet, the other kids gone, the laughter and high pitched screams just an echo in the walls. In its wake though, crumbled wrapping paper, half eaten slices of cake, and the sporadic stickiness of spilled juice on the lino floors.

You and Gemma both move throughout the rooms, picking up plates, tossing empty cups and trying restore some sense of order. Both the boys sprawled against the couch, completely exhausted. Cain is barely fighting it, his curls covering his face as his eyes struggle to stay open. And Abel, staring at the wheels spinning on his toy Harley. You stop cleaning for a moment, watching them. Despite everything, Cain had his birthday, his perfect little day alongside his big brother Abel, who also had fun, especially with Daddy being home.

You don't look at him, but you can feel him.

He's still here, standing a few feet away, lingering as the party transitions from cake and balloons to brothers and booze. He hasn't moved much since everyone left, beer bottle loose in his hand and his eyes have been on you the entire time.

You ignore him deliberately.

You turn to Gemma, brushing your hands against your thighs before nodding towards the mess still scattered around the living room. "You okay if I take the boys to bed?"

She waves you off with a smirk, already stacking the scattered plates "Go on, I got it"

Before you can move, Jax's voice cuts in.

"I'll take Abel"

You don't look at him, you don't acknowledge him. You just move.

He doesn't wait for your approval either, he steps past you scooping Abel into his arms as he nestles into his father's chest. You sigh softly and pick up Cain, his weight warm and heavy against you as he mumbles something sleepily into your shoulder.

The walk to their room is quite, the only sounds coming from the soft creak of the floorboards and the slow, steady breaths of your boys.

You set Cain down gently in his bed, fingers working as you change him into his pyjamas, his eyelids already dropping, but he's still awake enough to giggle when you pepper soft kisses to his little button nose, his cheeks and his forehead.

"Happy birthday baby boy" you smile, smoothing his unruly curls back before tucking him in, pulling the blankets up tight and snug.

Across the room, Jax is doing the same with Abel, his voice low and soft as he asks him about his day. The space between you is silent, thick with all the things that haven't been said. You move around each other, careful and calculated. Like strangers in a familiar place, working in sync but not together.

You switch places without a word. Jax leans over Cain, pressing a kiss to his head, murmuring something low that only his son can hear. Meanwhile, you crouch beside Abel, running a hand over his warm cheek before dropping a kiss to his forehead.

Abel grins, his voice sleepy "I'm happy Daddy’s here...today was the best day ever"

Your chest tightens a little, but you push past it, stroking his hair gently "That's all that matters baby"

Across the room, Cain reaches out for Jax's necklace, his tiny fingers curling around the bullet pendant as it swings towards him, turning it between his fingers. His eyes heavy with sleep but still fascinated. “Happy birthday little man... Daddy loves you”

You both move towards the door, the weight of it all pressing down on the space between you. Just as you reach for the handle, Abel's small voice breaks through the quite.

"Daddy are you staying at home now?" his words laced with hope, so innocent and pure.

Jax pauses, his eyes flicking towards yours.

Before she showed up, before he let today turn into this, maybe you would've said yes. Maybe you would've let him.

But now? no fucking way.

Your voice is steady, quiet but firm "Not tonight baby". Jax doesn't argue, doesn't try to fight it. He just drops his gaze to the floor, exhaling slow through his nose.

“But that’s what Cain wished for…” Abel’s small voice cuts through the heavy silence. “…he told me…” he hesitates, “… We both want Daddy to come home”.

The weight of his words settle deep in your chest, Jax’s too. You tilt your head back, blinking up at the ceiling. Doing everything in your power to hold it together. You hover for a second, "Sometimes wishes don’t come true straight away baby" and then, you flip the switch, the room now dark as you both walk out.

“That wasn’t fair” Jax says, his voice rough and blunt.

You shake your head. “Not fair? What, did you want me to lie? want me to sugarcoat it for them Jax? Should I have told them I was gonna ask you to stay anyway? right up until your pretty lil skank showed up at my door?”

The muscles in his Jaw become visible, but before he can even open his mouth, you’re already turning away, you can’t even face whatever excuse was about to roll off his tongue.

The second you step outside, the night air hits your skin. The walls of the house had started closing in, the sound of laughter and clinking bottles grating against your nerves, making it harder to keep your composure.

Your hands shake a little as you pull the joint from your purse, watching the flame catch and the tip glow. You hold the smoke in your lungs and let it sit there seeping into the cracks of your anger. Because no matter how much you try to push it aside, the image of that bitch standing in your doorway wont leave your head.

"Since when did you start smokin' again?" His voice is low, careful like he's testing the waters.

"Since when did you start fuckin' blonde pussy again?" you scoff, taking another drag.

Jax breathes sharply through his nose, already trying to keep himself in line. Instead of answering, he sinks next to you on the step, his forearms resting on his knees. Without asking, he takes the joint from your fingers, taking a long pull before letting the smoke drift out through his nose.

You don't stop him though, because you're waiting. Waiting for the bullshit, but when he doesn't say anything, you push.

"You gonna talk?" you ask, tilting your head "or you just gonna sit there and act like the lil whore you been fuckin’ didn't just show up at our sons birthday party?"

He exhales slow, the smoke rolling from his lips as he shakes his head "It ain't what you think"

You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head as you snatch the joint back from his fingers. "Then what the fuck is it Jax?" You take another long drag, exhaling before rolling your eyes at him "You get too comfortable with her? start talkin' too much while she's got her mouth all over you? letting her know where your house is? where our sons fucking sleep?" your voice sharpens, the anger rising again "you that fuckin' sloppy? or you just don't give a shit?" Jax exhales hard, rubbing a hand over his jaw. The weight of his own fuck up settling heavy on his shoulders. He looks at you, his eyes dark and tired. "y/n, I..." he starts "...she must have overheard somethin' at the club. I don't know how she found her way here, but do you really think I'd invite her?"

A bitter laugh erupts from you "didn't think you'd be stickin' your dick in someone else so soon." you snap, your eyes cutting into him "guess I was wrong about that too, huh?"

His whole body tenses, he goes to speak but stops himself, shaking his head like he's trying to shake away the shit. You saw it though. That flicker of something in his face. It could have been guilt, it could have been regret, either way it doesn't change a damn thing.

He drags a hand down his face, rubbing his beard before muttering "I'm sorry y/n"

You push off the step, "Yeah" you say, voice emotionless "heard that before"

Jax watches you, watches the way your hands flex at your sides, how your shoulders rise and fall like you're trying to hold back the rage and the fucking disbelief at how careless he's been.

You turn towards the house, desperate to put some space between the two of you, before the lump in your throat can choke you whole. Your feet stop before you even realise. Because you're not done yet.

"Baby mama?" you screw your face up, like the words taste wrong in your mouth "That's all I am to you now?"

Jax freezes. You can tell he's already exhausted, but he gets up anyway stepping closer to you, his hands lifting, reaching for you. But of course, you step back.

"I don't know why she said that" he whispers, his voice gritted, looking at you deeply as he speaks "I've never called you that"

You huff out a short laugh, folding your arms across your chest "Then why did she say it?"

"I dont know y/n" he says again, stronger this time. You know when Jax is lying, and this isn't one of those times.

Your throat tightens, but you refuse to let it show, refuse to let him see how deep its cutting. Because you're more than that, so much fucking more than that.

"If any more pussy you been fuckin’ comes to this house again..." your eyes lock onto his, your stare deathly "...I't wont be her I'm checkin"

He doesn't move, doesn't say a damn word. Because he knows you mean it.

The boys were at Gemma's for another sleepover, giving you a second, a chance to do something for yourself for once. No wiping sticky hands, no mediating arguments over toy cars, no little voices calling your name every five seconds. Just a quiet morning, one you intended to take full advantage of.

You start off with something simple. Getting your nails done, a small luxury but one that always made you feel a little more put together. French tip, almond shape. Your signature, the one thing you never switched up.

You weren't the chatty type when it came to self care appointments. Some people liked to gossip, spill their whole life story with the technician, but not you. You used the time to have some mental therapy. The chance to sit back and zone out while your mind did what it always did. Replay every single thing that had pissed you off during the week.

And unsurprisingly, Cain's party was right at the top of the list.

You managed to push it to the back of your mind for a while, but sitting here, staring at your hands as they shaped and polished your nails, it all came rushing back.

The audacity, the fucking nerve. The fact that no matter how you try to brush it off, its still fucking there.

Your fresh set, sharp and fucking clean rest against the steering wheel as you drive home. The day had been quiet so far, too quiet. Like the universe was just waiting to throw something in your path.

And then you see her.

Lola.

Hovering outside the clubhouse like a lost fucking puppy, pacing the lot, glancing at her phone, then back to the doors as if she was waiting for someone to let her in. Your grip on the wheel tightens, the coldness of your rings digging into your skin. You should keep driving, shouldn't even give her the time of day. But then, your gaze moves to the rear view mirror.

No Abel. No Cain. Just you, and her.

Without thinking twice, you swerve into the lot, the tires crunching against the gravel. She doesn't even notice, still caught up in whatever delusion was keeping her here.

She still doesn't notice as you walk up behind her, not knowing you were about to ruin her entire fucking day.

Not until, your hand fists the back of her hair, driving her forward, smashing her face against the rough brick wall of the clubhouse, her body jolting as she gasps in shock. She immediately starts to struggle, trying to push you off, but you shove her harder, using your weight to force her against it, letting the brick graze her cheek.

"Stay the fuck away from Jax..." you tell her, lips inches from her ear "...and don't you ever come to my fucking house again" she tenses beneath you, her hands pressing against the wall, trying to break free.

"Or what?" she spits, trying to sound brave but you can hear the shake in her voice "You're not even together anymore!"

You cant help but laugh, one of those bitter ones as you shake your head, getting closer to her now. "It's not about us not being together. This is about you, knowing your fucking place"

And that, made her still. The way your fingers curled tighter, pressing her harder against the wall, she understood how fucking serious you were.

You give her a second before releasing your grip, only to slam her face forward one more time, leaving pretty trails of crimson against her skin. You step back, admiring your still fresh nails, untouched by the mess they just endured.

A slow smirk, curling at your lips "Huh" you let out, as you flex your fingers in front of you.

"Jesus fucking christ" Chibs' voice cuts through the silence, you turn your head to see him and Juice standing near the garage, both of them watching the entire thing unfold.

Juice looks somewhere between impressed and terrified, his eyes wide as he runs a hand over his mohawk.

"Shit y/n..." he mutters, shaking his head "you're actually insane"

Chibs exhales, rubbing a hand down his face, but not in frustration, something familiar, maybe proudness. "You done now lass?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah" a grin forms on your lips, admiring your still immaculate nails "I guess I am"

Then, like clockwork, the deep familiar roar of Jax's Dyna tears through the lot.

Chibs sighs and Juice lets out a low whistle, stepping back like they wanted Jax to know they had no part in this.

He pulls in, the crunch under his tires breaking the tension. His sharp eyes sweep across the scene. His eyes lock onto yours, something dark beneath them. He already knows, he didn't even have to ask, but he did anyway.

"Someone wanna tell me what that fuck I've just walked into?" his voice sounds calm, but you could tell he was holding back.

You smirk, turning towards your car, you lean against the open door, tapping your fingers against the frame as your eyes lock onto Jax's.

"The boys are with Gemma..." you start, your voice light but somewhat dismissive. Then, with a slow flick of the wrist, you gesture towards Lola's wrecked form on slabs. "Don't take too long cleaning this shit up"

For a moment, there's nothing.

No words, no reaction, nothing.

And then you see it, so fucking small that you very nearly missed it.

The smallest quiver of his top lip, the way his mouth is parted open, with no words ready to come out yet. Like he's trying to fight a full smirk.

Then, the way his tongue slowly licks across his bottom lip.

That signature fucking look.

The one that always used to mean he wanted you. The one that, no matter what was going on. No matter how bad the fight, how deep the wounds were you would always end up fucked against something, breathless and completely undone.

You let your own smile spread across your face, just enough for him to see, just enough to make sure he knows you caught it. Then, almost mockingly you mirror his look. Running your own tongue against your lip before you slip into the car, driving off like nothing even happened.

Even though he knows he's fucked up, even though things are broken, seeing you handle business still makes him want you just as bad.

He doesn't say a word as your car disappears out of the lot, the engine fading into the distance. His jaw stays tight, shoulders squared and his hands restless. He inhales sharply, rolling his neck before turning towards the clubhouse.

Lola groans from the ground, blood smeared against her face.

Jax takes no notice at all. Doesn't check if she's okay, doesn't offer a hand, doesn't even fucking stop.

He just steps over her, like she wasn’t even there. His shoes scuffing against the gravel as he makes his way towards the door, Chibs and juice falling in line behind him.

"Is anyone gonna help her?" Juice says, looking over Lola.

Chibs snorts as he shoots Jax a look that says ‘This guy really thinks you’re about to play saviour to some wounded whore on the floor’

Jax meets Chibs’ look head on. A slow smirk creeping upon his face. His chin lifted slightly, but he doesn’t need to say a word, his expression says it all.

And just like that, the clubhouse door opens and swallows them whole. Leaving Lola exactly where she belongs.

Dismissed, completely fucking irrelevant and outside.

Photos & gifs do not belong to me. Just edited together (anyone peep the ‘Jackson’ tattoo hehe) 🖤

Thank you for reading! & thank you to anon who requested hope this works out well for you 🫶🏽

Keep the Jax requests coming! Starting to work through them again, whilst also brainstorming the new piece I can’t wait to fucking write.

Jax Teller Masterlist

xoxo secretly samcro

[nymph0maniaccc]

Hi everyone I’m so sorry for the delay for misery loves company the next part should be up within a week ❤️thank you for being so patient and supportive I’ve been really busy this month.

[nymph0maniaccc]

Just wanted to say your writing is absolutely incredible. Are you doing a tag list for Misery Loves Company? If so can I please be added to it?

omg thank you so much this literally make me smile so hard🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽❤️ and ofc I’ll add you!

[nymph0maniaccc]

Misery Loves Company

Part Two

1

2k words

Jax Teller x Fem!Reader

Background: You’re sick of the new girl getting all up on Jax so you take matters into your own hands

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of drug use, criminal past, cheating themes, eventual smut MDNI, show spoilers.

a/n: This will be a 4-5 partish series will a few blurbs in between cos if you have any request you can send them<3, this is also written with a black female reader in mind but anyone can read as long as you aren't being weird. Also thank you to my baby @starfxkrinc for proofreading mwah I love you so much<3, last but not least enjoy! Also thank you so much for the love on part one!

Two months in, Jax is more at home in the halfway house than he ever thought he’d be. Not because he likes the place it still smells like burnt coffee and broken dreams but because of you. Because every night, when the rest of the house fades into silence, you’re there. Sitting on the sagging couch next to him, trading smirks and secrets like you’ve known each other forever.

At first, he fought it. The calls to Tara helped with that. Every time he heard her voice, he reminded himself of the life he was supposed to go back to. But with every “I love you” that felt more like an obligation, with every pause between words that stretched too long, it got harder.

And you didn’t make it any easier.

It’s the way you make him feel alive. Like he’s not just playing a part in a life that doesn’t quite fit anymore. Like he’s not trying so damn hard to be the man everyone expects him to be. With you, there’s no weight, no expectations. Just fire, raw and untamed, the kind that makes him forget anything else exists.

And maybe that’s why he’s losing control.

It wasn’t just that Tara felt distant. It was you.

And then there was her.

Brittany.

A new addition to the house, blonde, all fake sweetness and forced laughter. She was the type who smiled too much, the type who leaned a little too close when she talked to Jax, who laughed a little too loud at his jokes. She wasn’t subtle. And the worst part? Jax wasn’t exactly shutting her down.

It made you sick.

You weren’t the jealous type, not usually. You didn’t do the whole possessive, needy thing. But this? Watching her throw herself at him, watching him entertain it, even just a little? It made your blood boil.

She’s always finding excuses to talk to him, laughing too hard at his jokes, brushing her hand against his arm like she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing. And Jax, to his credit, doesn’t seem interested. But that doesn’t matter. Because you’re interested. In him. In every damn thing he does.

It all snaps one morning.

This morning is the last fucking straw.

You wake up early, stomach knotted, mind already set. You don’t know what’s going to happen when you see her, but you know it won’t be good. And sure enough, there she is, standing in the kitchen, stirring her coffee like she owns the place.

You didn’t even think about it.

She looks up, offers you a smile that’s a little too sweet. “Morning.”

You don’t answer. Just step closer, heart pounding.

“I see the way you look at him,” you say, voice flat.

Brittany blinks, then lets out a nervous laugh. “What?”

“Jax,” you snap. “I see the way you fucking look at him.”

Her smile falters. “I—I don’t—”

But you don’t let her finish. The anger, the jealousy, the months of pent-up tension explode all at once, and before you even realize what you’re doing.

One second, you were staring at the back of her head, and the next, you were grabbing the nearest thing, an old, chipped ceramic coffee mug smashing it against the side of her skull.

Fuck.

Jax is still half-asleep when he hears the crash. Then the sharp, choked-out gasp.

By the time he stumbles into the kitchen, you’re standing over Brittany’s limp body, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. There’s blood pooling beneath her head, spreading out over the cracked linoleum. The broken remains of a coffee mug are at your feet, your hands clenched into fists.

And for the first time since he met you, you actually look shaken.

Your breath comes in sharp, panicked gasps. Your hands shake. Did you just-?

“What the fuck?”

Jax’s voice.

You whirl around to see him standing in the doorway, eyes flicking from you to Brittany’s motionless body, then back to you. His jaw tightens. But he doesn’t look shocked. Not really.

“We need to go,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

Jax doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even hesitate.

He just nods once. “Yeah.”

The motel room is shit. The kind of place that smells like cigarettes and bad decisions. The walls are yellowed with age, the sheets rough against your skin. But none of that matters.

Because you’re here. With him.

Jax leans against the dresser, hands running through his hair, exhaling slow. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

You shouldn’t have done that, is what he means. But he doesn’t say it. He won’t.

“She was gonna take you from me,” you mutter, voice hollow.

Jax’s gaze snaps to yours. Something dark flickers behind those blue eyes, something you can’t quite name.

“No one’s taking me from you.”

It’s not reassurance. It’s a fact.

The weight in your chest loosens just a little.

You stand by the door, still as stone. Then, finally, you move.

You cross the room, slow, deliberate, stopping in front of him. When he finally looks up at you, the storm in your eyes is just as fierce as the one raging in his chest.

“You should be scared of me,” you say softly.

Jax exhales, shaking his head. “I think I’m past that.”

And when you lean in, pressing your lips to his, there’s no hesitation. No guilt.

Just fire.

As your lips meet, you feel the intensity of the moment, the raw passion that's been simmering between you two for months now.

Jax's hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him. His kiss is rough, demanding, a feverish clash of lips and tongue that leaves you breathless. You can taste the desperation, the barely-contained rage. It makes your head spin.

He walks you backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed. You fall onto the mattress, taking him with you. His weight pins you down, his hips grinding against yours in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

The taste of him addictive. Your breath mingles, becoming one as the world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you lost in this desperate, consuming need.

One of Jax's hands slides down to your ass, squeezing hard before slapping the fatty flesh, pulling you tighter against him. You can feel his arousal growing through his jeans, pressing insistently against your stomach.

"Fuck," he groans against your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. "Fuck, I've wanted this for so long."

Your fingers ghost across his buzzed head, nails raking down his scalp. You arch into him, desperate for more friction, more everything.

"Then take it," you breathe, voice raw with need. "Take what you fucking want."

He breaks away suddenly, his eyes dark with lust as they rake over your body. "Take off your clothes," he demands, voice low and rough with desire.

You don't hesitate. With trembling fingers, you pull your shirt over your head, letting it fall to the floor. Your bra follows, and you reach to unzip your jeans, shimmying out of them along with your panties until you stand before him completely naked the art that marks your body fully on display.

Jax drinks in the sight of you, his gaze hot and intense. "Fuck" he rasps out, reaching out to cup your breasts, thumbs teasing your nipples into hard peaks before trailing to the words inked under your breast. “Love Is The Key”.

"Touch me, Jax," you plead. "Please..."

He obliges, one hand sliding down your stomach to cup your mound. His fingers brush against your clit, and you whimper, spreading your legs wider in invitation. He takes the hint, plunging two fingers deep inside you, pumping them in and out as his thumb circles your clit.

"Wet as hell.." Jax groans, watching your face contort with pleasure. "You want this dick don't you? Want me to fill you up, prove I’m yours?"

"Yes," you pant, hips rolling against his hand. "I need it. Need you."

He bites down on your collarbone hard enough to bruise.

"You want me to hurt you?" His voice is a low rasp in your ear.

You nod, eyes glazed with lust. "Yes. Fuck yes."

He smirks, something wicked dancing in those blue eyes. Then his hand is around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your pulse jump.

"Beg for it," he commands, thumb pressing into your windpipe.

"Please," you gasp, voice strangled. "Please hurt me.

His other hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back. He crashes his mouth against yours, all teeth and tongue. The pain, the pleasure, it's dizzying.

"You like this? Like having me inside you?"

"Yes," you pant, walls clenching around his digits. "More. Need more."

He withdraws his hand, bringing his slick fingers to your lips. "Suck."

You obey, moaning at the taste of yourself.

"Get on your knees." Jax rasped out.

You scramble to comply, ass in the air, back arched. The sound of his zipper is deafening in the small room. Then he's inside you with one brutal thrust, stretching you wide.

You scream, fisting the sheets. He sets a punishing pace, each snap of his hips driving you further up the bed.

"Fuck," he snarls, gripping your hips hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises. "Take it. Take my fucking dick like the crazy bitch you are."

His words send a chill down your spine. You push back to meet his thrusts, relishing the sharp sting of pain when he smacks your ass.

"Yes," you whimper. "More. Harder."

He obliges, slapping your ass over and over until the flesh is red and stinging. Your pussy clenches around him, so close to the edge.

"Gonna cum on my dick?" he pants. "Gonna fucking soak me?"

"Fuck yes!" you mewl, body shaking with the effort of holding back. "I need it. I need to cum."

He leans over you, one hand twisting in your hair, the other snaking around to rub your clit. The dual stimulation is too much.

"Cum for me," he groaned in your ear. "Now."

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. You scream his name, vision going white. Your pussy spasms around him, milking his dick for all it's worth.

He follows right behind, pulling out cumming right in the middle of the angel wings that covered the bottom of your back. His groan is guttural, primal, the sound of a man unhinged.

You collapse onto the mattress, bodies slick with sweat and come. He follows you down, sprawling half on top of you, panting into your hair.

"I love you," he murmurs, the words soft but sure.

Your heart skips a beat. You turn your head to catch his lips in a slow, tender kiss.

"I love you too," you whisper against his mouth. "Always."

“You really are trouble,” he muttered, voice low.

You smirked, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“So are you.”

Jax doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing anymore.

He should be thinking about Tara. About Abel and Thomas. About the life he was supposed to come back to. But he’s not.

All he can think about is you.

Because for the first time since he walked out of Stockton, he doesn’t feel trapped. He doesn’t feel like he’s drowning in expectations, in a life that doesn’t fit him anymore. With you, there’s no past. No future. Just this.

Just you.

And that scares the hell out of him.

Because as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Tara’s slipping further and further away. Every call, every forced conversation, every moment he spent trying to hold on to something that already felt like a memory it’s all starting to feel pointless.

Because she’s not here.

You are.

[nymph0maniaccc]

Misery Loves Company

1k words

Jax Teller x Fem!Reader

Background: Jax is fresh out of Stockton, but instead of going home to Tara, Abel, and Thomas the newborn son he hasn’t even met yet, he’s forced to stay in a halfway house. That’s where he meets you—troubled, sharp-edged, and dangerous in all the ways that should make him stay away. But he doesn’t.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of drug use, criminal past, cheating themes, eventual smut MDNI, show spoilers.

a/n: This will be a 4-5 partish series will a few blurbs in between cos if you have any request you can send them<3, this is also written with a black female reader in mind but anyone can read as long as you aren’t being weird. Also thank you to my baby @starfxkrinc for proof reading mwah<3, last but not least enjoy!

14 months. 14 months without Tara, 14 Months without Gemma breathing down his back about shit at the club. 14 months without Abel. 14 months he’s been locked behind those cold metal bars not even able to meet his newborn son.

Chibs and Opie are supposed to pick him up, but instead, some smug state worker in too tight khakis and a clipboard is standing outside, calling his name.

“Jackson Teller.”

Jax stops walking, glancing over at the guy in the khakis and cheap button-down. Looks like every other pencil-pushing asshole who gets his rocks off on controlling people’s lives.

“Yeah,” Jax says, jaw tight.

“Follow me.”

He doesn’t like being ordered around, never has. But he follows anyway, knowing better than to fight it. His lawyer already told him early release, but he’s got to do time in some co-ed halfway house before he can go home. Supervised reintegration, they call it. Glorified babysitting really.

Jax doesn’t say shit as he’s driven through Stockton in some government-issued beat up sedan, watching the city pass by. He wants to go home. He wants Tara. Abel and Thomas considering he hasn’t even met him yet. He wants his bike. Instead, he gets this: a two-story house with barred windows and a sign out front that says Hope Recovery Home.

Yeah. Fuckin’ great.

Inside smells like burnt coffee and old cigarette smoke. The place is barely livable dim lighting, stained carpet, a couch that looks like it’s been through hell. He’s seen worse, but not by much.

“You’ll have a roommate. House rules are simple no drugs, no fighting, curfew at ten. You work a job, you go to your meetings, you check in with your PO. You screw up, you’re back in Stockton. Understood?”

Jax doesn’t answer, just clenches his jaw and nods once.

“Good. Go introduce yourself to your housemates.”

He walks in without looking back, running a hand over his buzzed hair. It still feels foreign short, military-tight, a constant reminder of the past months spent inside. He doesn’t even get two steps in before he sees you.

You’re slouched on the couch, one leg propped up, taking in his every move. The first thing Jax notices are your eyes.sunken in, dark, too big for your face. They don’t move when he walks in, just stay locked on him like you’re sizing him up.

He does the same.

Medium brown skin, smooth despite the rough life he can tell you’ve lived. Tattoos creeping up your ribs, a hint of ink peeking from beneath the bottom of the white tank top doing little to cover anything. Angel wings on your lower back.

He recognizes the look in your eyes, one he’s seen in the mirror too many times to count.

“You staring cause you like what you see, or cause you’re tryin to figure out if I’m crazy?”

Your voice is hoarse, like you spent the night screaming or smoking, maybe both.

Jax smirks despite himself, shifting his weight. “Little bit of both.”

That makes you grin, all teeth. He can tell you like that answer.

“You got a name?” he asks, dropping onto the couch across from you.

You exhale, biting away at the black chipping pain on your nails. Then, finally, you tilt your head and say, “wouldn’t you like to know.”

“You new here too?” he asked, trying ease the tension.

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you let out a soft laugh and looked him over.

“I’m Jax,” he said, offering her a hand, though he didn’t expect her to take it.

You studied his hand for a moment, eyes dragging up his tattooed arm fingers grazing dangerously against his skin. when you spoke again, your voice was low and almost seductive. “Call me storm.’” You didn’t explain why, but Jax wasn’t sure he needed to know.

“Storm,” he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue easily. It was both soft and dangerous, and it fit you somehow. You clearly weren’t the kind of girl who would take any shit.

“Just got out for assault,” you added, almost as an afterthought. “Drugs. Long story. Don’t ask.”

Jax raised an eyebrow. You clearly aren’t the type to overshare. Not that he blamed you.

“So you’re stuck here too, huh?” he asked, his voice softer now. You seemed like trouble, but it was the kind of trouble he was used to. The kind he saw every day when he looked in the mirror

Your gaze flickered briefly up and down his body like a predator sizing up its prey. “Yeah. For now.”

Jax couldn’t help but feel the pull between the two of you, like gravity was pulling him toward you in a way that didn’t make sense. Maybe it was because you didn’t treat him like some hero, Hell you barely knew him. Maybe it was because you got it, the rawness of it, all the frustration, the anger, the feeling that nothing would ever be the same again.

And maybe, just maybe, you understood him better than Tara ever had.

But as much as he was drawn to you, Jax couldn’t shake the guilt. Tara. Home. Everything he was supposed to come back to.

Still, when he studied your face again, smirk barely contained, something told him this wouldn’t be a simple story. Not by a long shot.

“Storm” he said, his voice low, as he took a step closer, “I’m not looking for trouble.”

You looked him up and down, her eyes sharp. “Trouble’s been looking for me my whole life.”

Jax chuckles, but there’s something in his chest that tightens. It’s not a good sign.

He felt the tension in the air. The kind of tension that could make you forget everything else. For a second, he thought about turning back to the door and walking away. Something he wouldn’t be able to. Not with his freedom on the line and not with you watching him like that.

“You ever think about what you’re running from?” Jax asked.

You tilted your head, studying him. “All the time,” you said softly, a flicker of something in your eyes.

Jax didn’t have to ask anything else. He knew. You were just like him.