#alexander trager x you

[bullet-prooflove]

Weak: Alexander 'Tig' Trager x Reader (feat: Clay Morrow)

Tagging: @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989 @mortal--soul @yourwinchesterbros @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @nessamc @anime-weeb-4-life @redpoodlern @ravencrow83 @nu1freakshow @@oureternalbond  @the-wandering-lunatic @lexondeck @keyweegirlie @theplacewhereallthedemonsgo @poppyrose33 @belovedbastardremus @trublu2u @thebaileybugle @spngingerbread21 @@the-person-in-the-circle @thanossexual

It’s the vote over Cara Cara that makes Clay realise that you’re a threat. It’s the first time in years that Tig has voted in the opposite direction to him, and it makes Clay stand up and take notice.

He knows that Tig has been fucking you, he hasn’t taken much interest in it, he never does when it comes to Tig’s conquests. His Tiggy is a magpie, he sees something shiny, he taps it and then moves on to the next thing. He’s not the type to get pussy whipped, he’s dependable that way. That is, until he isn’t.

Clay starts to look into you after that. He thinks you must be some premium fucking pussy to keep Tig on the hook. However, the more he discovers the more he doesn’t get it, because you are just so normal. You aren’t a porn actress like he originally thought, you don’t have a great ass or huge tits. You aren’t even much to look at.

It’s only when he sees the two of you interacting that something clicks in his brain. When Tig kisses you, it’s soft, his thumb caressing the blush of your cheek, those rings of his contrasting against your skin. There’s a tenderness in it and Clay fucking hates it. His Sergeant at Arms is a rabid dog on a leash, when he lets him off, he expects him to go feral.

Clay decides to fuck it up.

He wants to break the hold you have on his Sergeant in Arms. He wants the other man violent, reckless, untamed. He needs the other man at his worst. The more blood thirsty the better.

He picks a night when he knows Tig’s going to be at the clubhouse and he stages a little private party. He picks a couple girls, ones that are just Tig’s type and he pays them to do whatever the fuck the other man wants. In his heart he knows that Tig’s still the same deprived son of a bitch he’s always been.

When the blonde climbs in his lap, Tig isn’t having any of it. Six months ago, he would have given her the ride of her life, he would have fucked her until she didn’t know which was up, instead he simply leaves.

Clay feels like he doesn’t even know the other man anymore.

It’s clear you’re a bigger influence than Clay realised. Tig’s become a different person since he’s taken up with you and Clay can’t have that. He needs him unhinged; he needs him loyal. He needs to destroy the other man so badly that there’s no coming back from the darkness.

In short, Clay needs to get rid of you and he realises that Amir Ghazeni is the solution to the problem because the disappearance of both his brothers ties directly back to you.  

Clay remembers that visit up to Stockton four years ago, the one where Otto had asked him to get rid of a 22. and a shiny new red convertible registered to Omar Ghazeni. Nothing, related to the club, he’d assured him. One of Luann’s girls had had a problem with a Persian and taken care of it herself, Clay didn’t have to worry about the body but the car, it was distinctive. In exchange Otto had done a couple of favours for him, that had added a few more years to his sentence. Luann loved that girl like a daughter, and Otto would do anything for Luann. It’s not a leap to guess that that girl is you.

Clay has no doubt that Tig killed Kia. Jax had tasked him with cutting him loose after all that drama at the torture porn studio and he guessed that Kia must have said something Tig didn’t agree with because the next thing they know, the club are getting questioned about the younger Ghazeni’s fire engine red jacket floating in the docks.

He tries to confirm a couple of details with Otto but the other man is tight lipped. He thinks that maybe Luann wasn’t the only one, who saw you as more than just an employee. He discovers that you’ve been putting money in Otto’s commissary since Luann had been killed, and that you’ve been visiting him in prison as often as you can.

He meets with the remaining Ghazeni in secret. He keeps Tig out of it. After all he doesn’t want Amir coming after the club, just you. The terms are this, Amir can do whatever the fuck he wants with you, Clay doesn’t give a shit about the details, so long as your body ends up on Tig’s doorstep. That’s all he asks.

It goes wrong from the very fucking beginning because Clay doesn’t count on three things, the fact you carry a 9 Mil., that Tig has been teaching you how to shoot and that Jax is with you at the time.  

When the Persians try to snatch you up, you’re finishing up a meeting with Nero Padilla about expanding into the escort business. Clay’s made sure that Tig is as far away as possible, he has him up in Bakersfield, checking in with Packer about a nasty spot of business regarding some ex-cult members. What he didn’t factor in was Jax attending the meeting on behalf of the club, because Jax didn’t tell him. He’d kept his cards close to his chest because he didn’t know how viable to deal would be.

It ends up with three dead Persians, one of which Jax recognises from the torture studio leading them straight back to Amir Ghazeni. The whole fucking story plays out around the table that evening, when Tig, for the first time in his life comes clean about the whole fucking thing. He tells his brothers about what happened to you, about Omar’s death when he came for you a second time, about the video and how he lost his fucking shit when Kia rubbed his face in it.

Strip me of my rank, he tells them, take my kutte, but don’t tell me that any one of you wouldn’t have done the same thing if it was someone you loved.

In the end Tig loses his position but keeps the kutte because there isn’t a soul in the room other than Clay that can begrudge his actions. Of course, the story endears you to them even more. Prior to this you were just a business partner and the girl that they knew Tig was fucking.

Now he’s telling everyone you’re his old lady, that he’s killed for you. It makes you part of the family and just like that you have the protection of the club.

It infuriates Clay but he’s sure that none of this shit can lead back to him because they’ve already found Amir Ghazeni on his yacht with a bullet in his head.

Clay doesn’t realise that they’ve taken a vote until two days later. He’s done a lot of dirty shit up until this point, the waters are so muddied that even he can’t tell what’s in the name of the club or for himself.

When he comes to table that night, he sees Jax sitting in his seat at the head of it, the gavel grasped firmly in his hand. He recognises the hardened expressions on each of his brothers faces as they march in, one after the other.  

It’s Tig he looks to, the one he’s always been able to turn to in his time of need. There’s murder in those vivid blue eyes of his, he runs his tongue along his bottom lip as if he can already taste Clay’s blood in his mouth because he knows what he’s done, what he tried to do.

It’s Otto that blew him up. Otto that heard about what almost happened to you and put the pieces of his last conversation with Clay together. Otto, who summoned Tig and Jax to Stockton.

They find the recording on Amir’s yacht, the one that the Persian had made of the conversation between the two of them. Bobby thinks he was planning to use it as leverage in case the rest of the MC ever found out it was him that had taken you. The worst part Jax tells him is that he knew what Amir would do to you, that he looked at your history and decided to play it out all over again, that he told Amir to leave your body on another brother’s doorstep.

There isn’t a person in the room who doesn’t understand the implications of that, of what that level of brutalisation would do to another man, to someone that Clay was supposed to care about.

“For what?” Jax asks him. “What the fuck was all of this for?”

Clay turns his head to Tig and meets his gaze. There’s a moment of understanding between the two of them before he says.

“She makes you weak brother.”

“No.” Tig responds, shaking his head. “She makes me human.”

Clay throws back his head and laughs.

“Pussy can’t give you redemption Tiggy, you know that.”

It ends with Clay kneeling over an open grave on the outskirts of Charming, staring into the depths of the soil below him.

“Any last words?” Tig asks him as he jams the barrel into the back of Clay’s skull.

“She’s not right for you Tig, you know it and I know it…”

Tig pulls the trigger, splattering Clay’s brains into the earth before his body tips forward landing in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the hole. He stares down at the man he’s served for the majority of his adult life and wonders when the presidency started to twist him, when the power sunk it’s claws into his skin and shredded his soul.

“He’s wrong you know?” Jax says as Tig passes the gun to him. “She’s good for you.”

“I know.” Tig tells him, his gaze shifting back to the mass of flesh and bones in the depths of that hole. “That’s why he tried to take her away from me.”

“Go home.” Jax tells him, his gloved hand clasping Tig’s shoulder and squeezing tightly. “Tell your girl she can sleep easy tonight.”

Love Tig? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[drakoneve]

Destined Meetings

request: Hey, do you think you could write something where the reader is related to tig somehow, and they're in charming for work or college and they start a relationship with juice? Cute and a little angsty at first?

pairing: Juice Ortiz x Trager!Reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: club crimes, reader's mom isn't the best + suggested childhood trauma, alcohol and drug (maryj) use

a/n: there will be another part for sure, but i might make this a bit of a mini-series, lmk what you think. happy reading!

Tig hardly ever talked about it, but he'd been married once. He would rather die than ever admit he loved anyone but Dawn and Fawn, but he loved her. And you, his sweet, sweet Y/n.

His heart clenched at the thought of you. You were only two years old at the time of the accident. The day your mother decided she had had enough of Tig and the life he came with and that she needed to run.

It was that day, when your mother pulled out of Charming and never looked back. She only made it two towns over before she took a reckless turn right off an overpass into oncoming traffic.

Tig could remember the look on Unser's face as he approached the older man in the TM parking lot like yesterday, and how he wished he could go back and convince your mom not to go. Or to leave you, at least.

Unser had just began working with the club back then, and this case in particular had always stuck with him. A woman trying to escape her outlaw husband with their baby daughter who ends up getting into a horrific accident that ends up killing them both? One of the saddest stories Unser had ever heard.

Except for the fact none of it was true.

Because there you stood, alive and well, right in front of the Chief's desk.

"I know it sounds crazy," you shake your head, hopeful look on your face. "I wouldn't believe it either, actually. And I don't really have any proof other than my memories, but I'm sure it's him."

The aging polaroid in you had provided him of a much younger Tig and a woman he recognizes to be your mother back when she was pregnant with you.

"No, no," he waves your worries away. "I believe you. In fact, I remember your mother, vaguely, and you look a lot like her."

You grimace. "Yeah, I've been told a few times. So do you know where I can find Alexander?"

Chief Unser pulls a pen from his shirt pocket and begins writing on a slip of paper on his desk. "This is the address of the Teller-Morrow, the automotive shop your dad works at. I would take you there myself, but I'm swamped here."

"Oh, it's no issue," you shrug and take the slip of paper. "I can get there myself. Thank you for everything, though."

You turn and begin to leave when Unser calls for you to stop.

"I forgot to mention, your dad goes by 'Tig.'"

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

Juice stretched out his arms and popped his neck while he wiped his hands with a rag. Two weeks of waiting for one part was finally over, and he could get this damn Taurus out of the shop. He tossed the rag into his toolbox when a sleek black car comes rumbling into the lot.

He leaves the garage to get a closer look and notices the car is actually a classic, a well taken care of (or well restored) '69 Chevy. While he admires the car he notices you, too.

Your hair is partly clipped back, with enough loose enough to frame your face in a casual look. You're pretty, and admittedly he'd be more distracted by you but Juice can tell by the look on your face you're nervous. Juice would know, it's a look he's had to learn to hide.

By sight and sound nothing seemed to be wrong with your car, and Juice can't help but wonder why you're here.

You shut the engine off and exit your vehicle, all the while silently composing yourself. Heart thudding in your chest, you wonder if you're doing the right thing.

Juice takes the moment you shut the door to approach further.

"Hello," he greets politely, friendly smile on his face. "I'm Juice, and I'll be taking care of you today. What seems to be the problem?"

"Oh, no," you shake your head and laugh nervously. "Nothing's wrong with her. I'm actually-"

You pause, close your eyes for a second and bite the inside of your bottom lip. Juice can't help but watch you fondly, finding you oddly adorable.

Finally you open your eyes and flash a bright, genuine smile.

Damn, I'm made, he thinks.

"This is gonna sound completely insane," you explain, nervously clasping your hands together. "But, um, I'm looking for Alexa- well, no, Tig, Tig Trager."

Juice raises his brows. "Tig? Uh, I don't know if now's the best time."

It's true, he's currently in Oakland with Jax and Chibs on quick business.

"Look, I know it's inconvenient and you don't know me," you plead. You're closer now and Juice can smell your sweet perfume and practically feel your hopefulness. "But until a couple months ago I had no idea my dad was even alive. And then I found out I was here for weeks before realizing he's here, too."

Your dad? There has to be a story there. Juice raises his hands to either side of your arms, holding you still in hopes to assure you.

"It's okay," he says sternly, but in an endearing way. "Tig's not here right now but he should be soon, so let's head on inside and you can tell me a little bit about you. Just to be sure, no offense."

You smile, relieved to be believed to some extent rather than none. "Thank you, Juice. Thank you."

Juice leads you into the Teller-Morrow through the garage entrance into the larger building. From what you could see on the outside you wouldn't have imagined such a spacious clubhouse inside.

Inside were several pool tables, a couch with mini pieces about, a bar with stools, and other tables each with their own set of chairs. Decorations littered the walls and floors and you laughed to yourself as you noted a nearly full ashtray on almost every surface and a wall completely dedicated to mugshots.

Juice leads you to the bar where he gestures for you to sit as he makes his way around. You slip onto a stool and watch patiently as Juice finds two glasses and turns to you.

"What's your preference?"

You shrug, "Whatever, I'm not partial. On the rocks, though."

He serves you and pours his own drink before setting the bottle down and leaning on the bar on his elbows in front of you.

"So tell me about you," Juice presses softly. He can tell by your fingers circling the rim of your glass that you're not excited for this conversation but he has no choice. "You said you've been here for a few weeks, where'd you live before?"

"Nevada, mostly," you tell him before sipping on your drink. "My mother moved us around a couple times and we lived in Colorado for a while before eventually settling in Sparks."

"Why'd you guys move around?"

You drain the rest of your drink quickly in hopes it'll support you through this conversation. Juice begins to refill your glass without being asked.

"I didn't know it then, but my mom was running from the Sons," you confess.

Juice's eyes widen slightly as he looked you over. What could you know about the club? They were notorious around Charming sure, but with their recent run ins with the ATF has the club struggling and making choices they wouldn't normally make.

You continue, "It wasn't until I graduated high school and I left that she told me my dad was actually alive. Then she told me about the Sons of Anarchy, and everything else I did on my own."

Juice nods, unsure of what to say. He nurses his drink for a moment before reaching for your hand.

"This life is complicated, but we're a family here."

The gesture, simple as it is, riles up all the pent up feelings you've mastered all your life comes rushing forward as tears brim your eyes.

"Family," you repeat and pull your hand from Juice to wipe your tears. "What a weird concept?"

The two of you talk well into the evening and you end up migrating to the couch with a bottle and a large bowl of buttery popcorn. Juice made good company. He's genuine, gunny, and from the way he talks you can tell the Sons are something special to him.

He tells you about himself in turn for the vulnerable information you've given him. You learn he was born and raised in New York before coming to Charming, and he has a little sister behind in the city. Juice tells you he works in the TM garage alongside what he does for the club.

"I'm not stupid," you tell him once you notice his hesitance. "It's not hard to find information on the club from the locals around here."

He chuckles softly, "Yeah, I'm sure. If you have any questions, you can ask me."

Before you can the rumbling of bikes coming into the TM parking lot distracts you. Instinctively you grabbed Juice's hand, but let go just as fast as you'd grabbed him. Luckily before he can say anything the door bursts open and income more Sons.

The first is a younger blond man with piercing blue eyes and you notice the President patch on his left. He greets Juice happily before his eyes look to you, and he looks confused but seemingly brushes it off and goes to the bar.

Your dad walks in near arm in arm with another handsome man with scarred cheeks, obviously older than he is in the polaroid you own, but otherwise he seems the same. Its as if he can feel your gaze as he turns to meet his blue eyes to your own.

You stand, trying to ignore the thumping of your heart in your chest. "Hi, Tig," you greet, silently cursing the waver in your voice. Immediately the polaroid is out of your back pocket and in your hand. "My name's Y/n, and my mom's Y/m/n."

He takes the polaroid from you without a word and holds it carefully in his hands. His friend has stepped away towards Juice, likely for questioning.

"I saw Unser earlier today," you continue on. "He told me that I have a grave here in Charming, so does mom. Funny, considering she always told me you were the dead one."

You take a shaky breath in, trying to keep from bursting into tears. "I just... I wanted you to know I'm not dead, very much alive. I don't, like, expect anything from you I just knew I had to say something."

Tig finally breaks away from the polaroid to meet your eyes again, and it makes you feel a bit better to see his blue eyes are as tear filled as your own.

He raises one hand to cup your cheek, thumb moving to wipe your tears. "Losing you was the worst pain of my life," he admits softly.

His words crumble your resolve, the walls you'd spent your adolescence building to protect yourself fell faster than they were constructed. You practically fall into his arms, and the two of you break down as you hold each other.

As you sob into Tig's chest he merely cradles you the way he wishes he'd been able to all these years. The way he deserved to have been there for you. He holds you tight against him like he's afraid you'll dissipate and it'll be decades before he sees you again.

"We're gonna be okay, baby," he tells you. "We're gonna be okay."

This time, he's not going to be letting you go so easy.

[razrbladekiss]

Thirty-seven minutes | Tig Trager

A/N: this is just a shitty little angsty one shot, which i put together in like fifteen minutes. it's supposed to be helping me get back into the swing of things with writing, but it isn't! but anyway, here 'ya go!

WORD COUNT: 900 smth

PAIRING: tig trager x fem!reader

WARNINGS: angst, strong language. you're in your cunt era

Thirty-seven minutes ago, malevolence was rippling through your veins, surging through each and every artery like hot, molten lava drifting toward that village at the volcano’s edge. 

You were mere seconds from an outburst, almost spattering your last morsel of equanimity when Clay’s pompous snarl reached the drums of your ears and all you saw was red. 

Ripping the man limb from fucking limb would’ve been so gratifying, you thought. Causing him that same abundance of grief that he had inflicted upon you, making him hurt, was the one thing you could only wish to happen. 

But slivering so deeply into Clay Morrow seemed borderline inconceivable. Because he was formidable, and tough, and you were yet to see him crumble under the wayward burdens bestowed upon him by his club. 

Frankly, getting to him was simply impossible. And, if you could strike a chord within that phlegmatic prick, Tig wouldn’t even let you try. 

It wasn’t worth it, he guaranteed that seeking revenge for the shit the SAMCRO President did to you—to the man that you love—wasn’t worth thinking about. 

Because he might’ve made Tig dive head first into yet another ire-fueled, gun-wielding battle that could’ve ended a hell of a lot more bloody than what it did, but that was a part of this life. 

You understood that. You understood what Tig’s life—his line of work—entailed, but it was tough. Coming to terms with it all—every last thing—was painful, and sometimes you wished that Clay didn’t depend on him so much. 

But he did. And there was nothing that you could’ve done to change that, or put a stop to it. So you got along with it. 

You got along with it until you couldn’t. 

Ten minutes ago your face was reddening, rage dripping from every pore as you became privy to the events of the day. Eagerly—desperately—you awaited an explanation. 

An explanation that never came. 

An explanation that you needed, but one that you never got. And, for that, you were irrationally angry. 

“I just hate that he’s got you wrapped around his little finger, Tig! It’s gonna get you seriously hurt one day!” You expressed your repugnance, stamping into the clubhouse. 

Tig was hot on your heels. 

“I’m sick of finding out through Jax, or Juice, that Clay has put you into yet another situation that you might not find your way out of—“

“Baby—“

“No! Don’t baby me, Alexander.” Pissed, you threw back at him as you stopped dead at the front door. “You’re not getting out of this by sweet-talking, or fucking me, like you always do.”

Being an authoritative figure suited you, he thought. Being put in his place by you was so sexy, he thought. 

But you had also yelled at him—“humiliated” him—right in front of his club, and he was irked at your boldness. 

The boldness that he lauded, of course, but the boldness that no old lady should’ve conveyed before the Sons Of Anarchy. 

Because old ladies were supposed to be submissive. They were supposed to take orders, know their place, and abide by the rules set in place by the club. 

That wasn’t your thing, however. 

“I—I can’t take this anymore.” Frustrated, you retorted. “This fucking club—“

“Hey!” Tig yelled, pointing at you. 

This unbending—frightening—look washed over his face, and for the first time ever, you felt yourself tremble underneath his gaze. 

“Don’t talk shit about this fucking club!” 

Your heart was pounding. 

“I’m serious!” He barked, cornering you. 

Tig was intimidating, everybody and their fucking dog knew that. Everybody knew what he did, or what he had the capability of doing. 

But you weren’t scared of him. 

Not anymore. 

You puffed out your chest a little, refusing to be backed up against the wall. You walked a little closer to him. Two noses almost brushed against one another. 

“And so am I.” You said, biting back tears. “I am so fucking serious about this—“

“About what?!” Tig was yelling again now. 

He was so short tempered. But never with you. 

Sucking in a deep breath, you began by saying “about how this club—more like fucking cult—is ruining our relationship that we have been trying so hard to rebuild!”

It was like a weight lifted, but it maimed him. 

Because you hadn’t known Tig before the Sons, nor would you ever know that version of him. But he thought that you enjoyed him being part of such a tight brotherhood, a ready made family that supported the pair of you, not just him. 

And there were benefits to Samcrow, there always were. But Tara had told you what it was like getting involved with them, and you chose to ignore the warning. 

Until now. 

“It’s like everything you do revolves around the club.” You say, as if it’s not the most obvious thing in the world. You take a step toward Tig, making him take a step backwards. 

Fists clenched. 

“We had something good, Tig. We really had a beautiful thing. But the Sons Of Anarchy have brainwashed you into thinking that, if you’re not here twenty four hours a fucking day, that some shit will happen and the club will crumble.”

He rolled his jaw. 

“I promise you, nothing bad will happen if you take a day to spend time with your old lady—y’know, the woman you married.”

“You spend too much time with Tara—“

“And that’s such a bad thing?!” You hurled his way. “I spend my days in this shithole! I have no other fucking friends aside from the club and their wives, and it sucks! And now you’re mad at me for spending time with the only female in this gang that I can tolerate?!”

“Not a gang!”

“Oh, fuck off!” You stomp toward the front door, leaving a bitter taste in the mouth of your husband. 

Tig couldn’t wrangle his composure. He couldn’t bring himself to go after you as your heels clicked along the uneven concrete, and you mithered to yourself about how worthless he was. 

He didn’t care. 

He couldn’t find a reason to care. 

You disrespected his club, so he threw away the vows that he made to you. 

Only temporarily, of course. 

Because in thirty-seven minutes, he’ll be at your knees begging for forgiveness. 

[your-space-brain]

Friends

Filip “Chibs” Telford x Reader - One Shot

Gif does not belong to me.

Moved from @spacedbrainnn .

Little Clay.

That’s what they called you, Little Clay. You were the daughter of Teller and Morrow, Jax’s half sister who was untouchable. You were a princess, the pride and joy of Gemma and Clay, and everyone knew not to flirt with you, unless they planned to be intimidated.

And threatened.

That’s why you’d been talking to Chibs. Late night drinks here, a smile there, a wink thrown in the mix and you found yourself festering with feelings for the man twice your age.

But, you couldn’t care less.

You’d never talked about anything exclusive. There were never any lines drawn, anything. So when you saw him with a Crow Eater hanging around his hips, you couldn’t be jealous.

But, everyone else saw it plain as day.

“Oh come on, Clay Jr.” Tig was dancing on your last nerve while you were attempting to finish up an audit for the garage. You sat in Jax’s mechanic shirt while you wrote on a clipboard and typed on your calculator. “Give me one chance.”

“I’m not in the mood, Tiggy.”

“Why do you gotta give me such a hard time?”

“Because I’m a giver. It’s what I do.”

“But one chance. Let me take you out on the dance floor. We can even dance around the shop.”

“I’ve got two left feet.”

“Please—”

“Alexander Trager.” You spat the words colder than you intended and he feigned offense.

“What? Can’t stand to see Scottie have another woman—”

“What about Scottie?” The thick accent boomed throughout the garage as his boots preceded him. You looked up and tried not to show that your heart was pattering for him.

“Nothing. Just talking.” Tig smirked knowingly as he backed up and walked off, a toothpick in his lips as he exited. You looked down at your paper and tried to force yourself to get back to work.

“Lass? He givin’ ye a hard time?” His accent was undeniably bouncing around in your head while you tried to focus, unsuccessfully, due to his intense stare.

“No more than usual.” You replied to him as your pen marked against the paper, before you looked at the calculator.

“Ye sure?”

“I’m sure.” You didn’t give him that pretty smile you normally did. Hell, you didn’t even hardly look at him.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“Nothing.”

“Ye can’t lie ta me like that.”

“I’m not lying.”

It was becoming a war of who was more stubborn, who would outlast. He gave a sigh before you heard the flick of the lighter, then cigarette smoke filled the air and you felt the scent of tobacco wash over you.

“Ye can’t lie ta me.”

“I’m not lying, Chibs.”

That’s when he knew. He was always Filip to you. Always.

“Tell me what’s eatin’ that pretty li’l head up.”

Sighing, exasperated, you gave up. Dropping your pen down, you stared up at him as it clattered and rolled off the desk.

“What are we?”

“Whataya mean?”

“I mean, what the hell are we? You can’t tell me we’re just friends. You can’t tell me that we haven’t been shamelessly flirting, dancing around the idea that we’re not something. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Your eyes searched his dark ones as he sighed, before he took another drag of the cigarette.

“Lassie, ye’re…”

“Half your age. I know. I don’t care. What are we?”

“What do ye want us to be?”

“More than this. I want you to not have fucking women—”

You were cut off by his little smirk. “Is that what this is about? The women?”

“Shut up.”

His smirk widened before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’m yers, sweetheart. I’m yers.”

— end —

[cherrycheolcoups]

WHO I WRITE FOR

alexander ‘tig’ trager [sons of anarchy]

filip ‘chibs’ telford [sons of anarchy]

juice ortiz [sons of anarchy]

happy lowman [sons of anarchy]

jax teller [sons of anarchy]

opie winston [sons of anarchy]

dean winchester [supernatural]

castiel [supernatural]

evan buckley [911]

eddie diaz [911]

aaron hotchner [criminal minds]

spencer reid [criminal minds]

derek morgan [criminal minds]

emily prentiss [criminal minds]

all camp counselors + travis hackett [the quarry]

arthur morgan [red dead redemption 2]

cullen rutherford [dragon age series]

alistair theirin [dragon age series]

morrigan [dragon age series]

solas [dragon age series]

the iron bull [dragon age series]

anders [dragon age series]

fenris [dragon age series]

sebastian vael [dragon age series]

leliana [dragon age series]

josephine montilyet [dragon age series]

cassandra pentaghast [dragon age series]

zevran arainai [dragon age series]

isabela [dragon age series]

merrill [dragon age series]

varric tethras [dragon age series]

garrett/marian hawke [dragon age series]

dorian pavus [dragon age series]

wolverine [x-men]

erik lehnsherr [x-men]

charles xavier [x-men]

iron man [mcu]

hawkeye [mcu]

black widow [mcu]

thor [mcu]

loki [mcu]

doctor strange [mcu]

spider man [mcu]

ant man [mcu]

nathan drake [uncharted]

sam drake [uncharted]

rafe adler [uncharted]

elena fisher [uncharted]

klaus hargreeves [umbrella academy]

diego hargreeves [umbrella academy]

seventeen [kpop]

monsta x [kpop]

exo [kpop]

ateez [kpop]

bts [kpop]

rick grimes [the walking dead]

negan [the walking dead]

carl grimes [the walking dead]

glenn rhee [the walking dead]

daryl dixon [the walking dead]

this is all i can think of for now! if there is a particular person/fandom that you want but don't see, please don't hesitate to ask me if it's something i write for!

[drabbles-mc]

Kiss It Better

Tig Trager x F!Reader

Request by @winchestershiresauce​: Could I request the prompt "I'm gonna pretend I didn't just see that" with Tig and a younger woman? Maybe somebody in the club's friend or sister?

Warnings: language, mentions of blood/injuries, steamy things

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: This is my first fic like this for Tig, and I have to admit I had such a blast writing it haha. I was rewatching the pilot the other day for ~research purposes~ and the fight scene with him and Happy seemed like such a good little piece of inspo for this. Hope you enjoy it! xo

SOA Taglist: @garbinge​ @masterlistforimagines @espieviolet99 @mijop @chibsytelford @thanossexual @xladymacbethx @i-just-read-stuff @toni9 @unicornucopia-fuckers @shadow-of-wonder @punkgoddess-98 @paintballkid711 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck @frattsparty @bellisperennis0​ @crowfootwrites​ @redpoodlern​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @mveggieburger​ @xeniarocks​ @choochoo284​ @littlekittymeow​ @beardsanddetectives​ @bruxasolta​ @i-love-scott-mccall​ @be-my-dear​ (If you want to be tagged, just let me know!)

When you got to the clubhouse, the chaos was already well underway. Music was blaring from the inside while there were a bunch of people gathered around the boxing ring outside. You had to walk a little closer to figure out who it actually was in the ring, but once you did you couldn’t pretend that you weren’t intrigued, and also a little concerned.

Walking over, you found Jax by the corner of the ring. He was shouting directions to both the men in the ring, which you found to be quite amusing because Jax had never coached anyone a day in his life. Over the years there were a lot of things that you’d trusted him with, but you don’t know if this would’ve been one of them. You’d seen him fight, and he wasn’t the most calculated fighter, which lead you to believe that maybe he shouldn’t be the one to dole out advice. Still, given your current company, you figured he couldn’t make things worse. Clay must’ve been busy if Jax was the first line of defense.

“I thought you were just the towel boy?” you said with a laugh as you stood next to him.

He laughed as he draped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in, “Doesn’t matter what I say anyway, not like either of them is gonna listen.”

“Tig and Happy? Not listening to you? Say it ain’t so,” you chuckled.

He shook his head, “Yea, I’m sure you’re real surprised,” he peeled his eyes away from the ring to look at you for a moment, “Didn’t think you were gonna make it?”

You shrugged, flashing him a quick grin, “Like I ever stay away,” a bell rang and Happy and Tig walked to their respective corners. You looked at Jax, confusion written on your face, “Rounds? Thought this shit was doghouse rules.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “Not with these two psychopaths.”

Tig leaned over the ropes, allowing Chibs to clean up the blood on his face and to give him a sip of water. He was trying to take a deep breath when he saw you standing, leaning into Jax’s side. Despite the blood leaking from the cut above his eyebrow, he shot you a smile, “Hey, doll, finally taking up my offer to be a ring girl?”

You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t not laugh, “Why don’t you focus on not letting Hap knock you out?”

“You’d take care of me if he did though, right?” he smirked, and you hated that you felt your face start to get warm.

You nodded towards the ring, “Don’t let him bust up that pretty face of yours any more than he already has, Trager.”

He laughed before getting tossed back into the throws of the match with Happy. You could feel Jax’s eyes on you as you watched the two men in the ring, and you fought to keep a straight face and not acknowledge the look on his face. You weren’t a stranger to the club by any means, which meant you knew more than your fair share about everyone involved—one of the perks of being so close with Jax. It was for that exact reason that he was staring at you trying to figure out why you were entertaining the back and forth with Tig, and why you almost seemed like you were enjoying it.

“Your fighter is about to get his ass kicked, coach,” you nodded towards the ring.

Jax looked back up at the ring just in time to see Tig take a solid left hook to the face. Jax cringed slightly, shaking his head before shouting, “Use your goddamn feet, Tig! Get out of the way!” his voice dropped so only you could hear, “Jesus Christ.”

You laughed, “Happy’s a tough son of a bitch. He might get the best of your boy.”

Jax looked over at you, letting out a dry chuckle, “Tig has never been my boy.”

You rolled your eyes, “He’s not that bad.”

“He’s insane, you know.”

“You all are,” you laughed. Cupping your hands around your mouth, you shouted above the noise, “Beat his ass, Trager!”

It wasn’t likely that your encouragement had anything to do with the change in the tides of the fight, but you were going to pretend that maybe it did. Within seconds, Tig was walking himself in and throwing haymakers like there was no tomorrow. If it had been a real fight, it wouldn’t have been the best strategy. But it was a clubhouse match. He backed Happy up into a corner, the entire crowd cheering loudly. It wouldn’t have mattered who was winning anyway, everyone just wanted to see some action.

“Alright, alright,” Jax reached over and gave Bobby a slap on the arm, “Break that shit up before someone loses a tooth or something.”

You laughed as Bobby ungracefully hopped up into the ring managing to pull the two men apart. Whatever they were sorting out in the ring immediately fell by the wayside when Bobby told them to call it quits. Both men immediately smiled, hugging each other as they laughed. It made you wish that you’d gotten there to see the fight all the way from the beginning.

“Alright, alright,” Bobby pushed them both towards the ropes, “Go get cleaned up. No bleeding all over the clubhouse.”

Both Happy and Tig were talking, laughing as they hopped down from the ring. Both men had towels chucked at them so that they could wipe the blood from their faces. The other men from the club who had been ringside watching them greeted them with hugs and claps on the back as the rest of the crowd began to disperse, heading towards the clubhouse or the other small clusters of people who were outside drinking and talking.

“Trager,” you spoke up when he was about to head towards the clubhouse to clean up and change. He turned to you, and you could tell by the smile on his face that he was about to make a slick, flirty comment. Before he could, you walked over and took the towel from his hands, pressing it to the cut above his eye that was still bleeding, “Quite the comeback, huh?”

Your eyes were focused on his cut, but his were focused on the concentrated expression on your face, “Couldn’t let my girl see me get my ass kicked, now could I?”

You laughed, cheeks feeling warmer by the second as you refused to make eye contact with him, “Your girl’s here tonight? I’d love to meet her,” pulling the towel off, your lips dipped into a frown when the cut continued to bleed, “Looks like that might need a couple stitches.”

“You know a good doctor?” he chuckled.

You smiled, shaking your head, “No, but I’ve been known to keep people from dying on occasion. You got a kit?”

“Yea,” he nodded towards the clubhouse, “keep one in my room.”

You arched an eyebrow, “Seems convenient.”

He laughed, “You asked if I had one, that’s where it is. Unless you wanna let me bleed out.”

Rolling your eyes, you gestured for him to start walking, “Alright, alright. Let’s go get you fixed up.”

You’d never been in Tig’s dorm, and you had to admit you expected it to be in way worse shape than it actually was. It was evident that he didn’t spend a whole lot of time there, which you supposed made sense. You still looked around though, poking through a few things that were on his nightstand and the top of his dresser.

He cleared his throat, not even trying to hide the smirk on his face when he caught you being a little nosey. Holding up the first aid kit, he passed it off to you, “This what you were looking for?”

You chuckled, nodding, “Yea, that’s it,” you motioned for him to sit on the edge of the bed before grabbing the chair by the door and pulling it over.

You sat in front of him, closer than you’d ever really been to him before. Your face felt hotter with every passing second, and the slick smirk on his face certainly didn’t help at all. He sat with his legs spread, so you carefully wedged yourself between them, ignoring the look in his eyes the closer you got to him. Reaching for his chin, you gently tilted his head down and to the side so you could get a better look at the cut above his eyebrow. Taking a deep breath in a vain attempt to focus, you grabbed a cotton ball and doused it in medical alcohol. Running it over the cut, you heard Tig wince.

“Hurt less when he hit me,” he chuckled.

You laughed, shaking your head, “Don’t turn into a drama queen on me now, Tig. I didn’t even start with the stitches yet.”

He laughed, but the two of you fell back into a comfortable silence as you finished cleaning the area you were going to be working on. You got all the materials together for his stitches, and you tried your best to do it while causing him as little pain as possible.

When the needle first punctured his skin, he cringed slightly, hand involuntarily reaching and gripping onto your leg just above your knee. It caused you to fumble, nearly dropping the thin needle between your fingers. You let out a slightly embarrassed chuckle and the smile that came across his face gave you feelings that you didn’t want to delve too deep into.

“I know that you’ve been through worse than this,” you told him as you continued to stitch him up.

He didn’t remove his hand from your leg, laughing, “Never thought that you were going to be the one hurting me. Makes it sting a little extra.”

You chuckled, “Imagine if I was trying to hurt you.”

He waited for you to make eye contact with him, “You wouldn’t.”

You let out a quiet hum as you finished off the small row of stitches, “Probably not.” Cupping his chin in your hand once more, you turned his head a bit so you could get a good look at your work. It wasn’t the same as what he would get at a hospital, but it was free and it did the trick, which was all he really needed, “I think you’ll live.”

“You gonna kiss it better?” Tig’s smirk made it hard to maintain eye contact with him.

Rolling your eyes, “Not with all that dried blood all over your face.”

He chuckled as he watched you get up and grab a washcloth to soak in warm water, “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

You laughed as you sat back down in your chair, “Come here, let me finish cleaning off your face.”

He leaned in, closing his eyes as you began to gently wipe away the blood, sweat, and grime from his face. For a fleeting moment you wondered when the last time someone was actually gentle with him.

The sentimental thought passed by quickly when Tig spoke up again, “You take care of everyone like this, or can you just not keep your hands off of me?”

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you slapped the damp rag against his chest, “You’re all cleaned up, Trager.”

You went to stand up, but he reached forward with both hands, gripping onto your thighs just enough to keep you seated in your chair. “You still gotta kiss it better.”

The smirk on his face let you know that if you really didn’t want to do this, you could get up and walk away with no repercussions. But the glint in his eyes told you that if there was any part of you that wanted this, wanted him, that now was your chance to do something about it. You could feel the grip of his fingertips through the denim that covered your legs, and it was impossible to deny the excitement that was coursing through you. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as you tried to will yourself to do something about all the thoughts and feelings you’d ever had about the man sitting in front of you, the man who was practically begging you to kiss him.

Despite everything you knew about him, all the reasons that this could end up being a really dumb idea, you leaned in and crashed your lips into his. You felt the slight jolt in his body, clearly he hadn’t been expecting you do actually do something, or to do it with so much enthusiasm. But there was no point in trying to hold back or play coy now. Your hands slid up to cradle his neck as you tried to convey every ounce of your excitement into the way you moved your lips against his.

Pulling away, he let out a breathy chuckle, “Didn’t think it was my lips that got hurt during the fight, sweetheart.”

Shaking your head, you got up from your chair and positioned yourself so that you were straddling his lap, hands planted firmly on his shoulders, “Shut up and kiss me.”

He opened his mouth to make another snarky remark but you didn’t give him the chance. Kissing him again, your hands tangled themselves into his hair, giving a slight tug and causing him to let out a moan that sent a wave of arousal through your entire body. His hands gripped tight onto your hips for a moment before sliding down and cupping your ass, pulling you as close to him as he could. He swallowed your moans as his tongue slid to meet yours, and for a moment you completely forgot about the rest of the world outside the two of you. You could feel the dampness from his shirt as his chest pressed flush against yours, the feel of his fingers kneading you through the rough fabric of your jeans.

You were about five seconds away from pushing him flat onto his back on the bed when another voice disrupted the entire mood of the room.

Jax appeared in the doorway, not realizing what he was walking into until it was too late, “Yo, Tig, Clay just—shit,” he shook his head and averted his eyes as he tried to pretend not to see you scrambling to get off of Tig’s lap. Despite the fact that both of you were still fully clothed, seeing his best friend with her tongue down Tig’s throat wasn’t exactly on his bucket list, and he refused to look at either of you, “Clay’s asking for you, bro.”

Tig chuckled, amused not only by Jax’s reaction, but yours. The woman who had all but pounced on him was now shrinking back, pinching the bridge of her nose as she avoided eye contact with both men in the room. He didn’t share your embarrassment at being caught, though. Leaning over, he nipped lightly where your neck met your shoulder before smoothing it over with a kiss, not offering up a verbal goodbye as he stood to leave.

Jax shook his head at him, “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t just see that.”

Tig laughed, waiting for Jax to really look at him, “Oh, you definitely saw it, brother,” his laughter could be heard the entire time he walked down the hallway to go and meet up with Clay.

When you finally forced yourself to look up at Jax, he was standing there shaking his head, but even so there was the slightest hint of amusement on his face, “Really? Tig?”

You laughed, face heating up even more if that was even possible, “What can I say? I like ‘em a little crazy.”

Jax threw his arm around you when you walked over, “That might be more crazy than you can handle.”

“I think I’ll be alright,” you gnawed lightly at your bottom lip as you replayed everything in your head.

“Yea, just do us all a favor and shut the door next time, alright?”

You chuckled, “I’ll try to remember.”

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❚❙ NOVEMBER OF DRABBLES.

Day 5 with Alexander ‘Tig’ Trager:

“Is that blood?”

“No?”

“That's not a question you're supposed to answer with another question”.

WORDS: about 350.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted ❤

❚❙ GIF credits: to @come-join-themurder ✨

❚❙ MASTERLIST.

❚❙ JOIN MY TAG LIST.

Tig didn't expect you to be awake at four in the morning. He didn't even expect you to be in his house. But there you are, getting up from the sofa and wearing nothing but one of his old black shirts, walking towards him. You were about to suddenly fall asleep, when you heard the door getting closed. Now, the sleepy gesture on your face has turned to a worried one.

“Is that… blood?” You whisper terrified.

You don't know exactly what he does with his club. Basically, because you have been hanging out for the last two months and he's trying to introduce his real work to you one bit at a time. But this is freaking you out.

“No?” He just replies unzipping his kutte and placing it over a chair.

“That's not a question you're supposed... to answer with another question”. Though you're trying to keep your shit together and to not jump onto him to check if he's hurt, you can't help but talk with a trembling voice.

“I'm fine, my sunshine”. Tig clicks his tongue, stretching a hand closer to you so he can grab your waist and push you into his arms. “Blood isn't mine”.

“Oh…”

One of the things he loves the most about you is that you don't make uncomfortable questions, that he's not ready to answer. You are giving him his time to explain everything to you, aware that he's scared of losing you. The day he saw you hitting a cop, he fell in love with you.

His hands strokes your back under his shirt, using his fingertips as he gets lost in your eyes full of tenderness. Leaning towards you, Tig catches your lips among his in a soft and ephemeral caress.

“Want to take a shower with me?” He hums, looking at you as if he was silently begging for a yes.

Nodding and drawing a delicate smile on your lips, you let him easily lift you up to wrap his waist with your bare legs.

Alexander feels so luckily for finding you in life, a gift from his good karma as he calls you.

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Heavy in Your Arms

Prologue

Summary/Author’s Note:  Back from the service and hell bent on drinking his way through Southern California, Tig Trager is a rambler. He's alone, he's lost, and he likes it that way. He stumbles into Charming, a quiet town with a large presence in the form of the motorcycle club. Here he finds more than he bargained for, and something else he never thought he would deserve.

I got a message about this story awhile back and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. This is the story Tig fans begged S*tter for and he never delivered. I have really been missing Tig lately so I edited this from its original form that I posted seven years ago. I originally posted this as an OC under the pen name thatlassiegotglassed - Which was my original AO3 back when I was foolishly ashamed of my fic. Now I don’t give a fuck. 

Pairing: Tig Trager x Reader Word Count: 1624 Rating/Warnings: Language, death, violence, blood, typical SOA stuff, eventual smut

[Masterlist] [One Shots/Drabbles]

--

"Yeah, I dumped an FXR on the I-5 and the poor bitch slid right in front of oncoming traffic...Found out she was pregnant. Really loved that one..."

June 21st, 1993

The roar of the big trucks and the swishing of the smaller cars blazing down the freeway filled his ears and would have been calming, but they were out of place. He had been asleep, safe in his own bed, the cars from the road had never been this loud. He shifted slightly and instead of cool sheets under his hand, he felt the grit of the blacktop and the wet clumps of side-road sand, rough against his skin. He did what he did every morning and slid his hand down, looking for you. You would hum contently as he wrapped his big hand around your hip and pulled you back against him so he could smell your hair, nose you awake--but he wasn’t in bed. 

He had had a dream, a wonderful dream, that he had been riding. His hands had gripped the handles as the sun played hide and seek with the oncoming rain clouds. The crisp smell of the spring air had tickled his nose and filled his lungs as trees and the tall grasses of the fields outside the city whipped passed him. You were a comforting weight at his back, and every time you squeezed your arms around his middle it brought a smile to his face. 

The weight on his head let him know he was still wearing his helmet. With slow movements, he reached up and unclipped it, shoving it off and letting it bounce against the road.

Everything hurt. Fuck. He coughed, the movement pressing his cheek back to the cool blacktop, the air from his mouth blew dust particles up and made him shut his eyes. 

Except this was no dream. And you weren’t next to him.

Shit.

He had been riding and it started to rain, and the semi cut him off and--

“Doll?” he said, his voice feeling like razor blades down his throat. He repeated but with your real name, hoping it would get your attention more than any of his terms of endearment. 

When you didn't answer, he knew something was wrong. A silence had fallen around him, all he could hear was the ringing in his ears, as he saw your body laying twenty feet from him. Your helmet had fallen off, hair spilled to the side, blood flecked your temples and down your cheeks.

He started crawling, using his forearms to drag himself closer to you as other cars came to a halt and people started yelling. If he got to you, if he reached you--everything would be okay. You would be okay.

You had to be. 

--

January 1st, 1991. Somewhere in Southern California

He had met you on a Friday. A pretty calm day, where the world was relaxed in a way that he was not. How could he be? Alexander 'Tig' Trager was, how did they say, 'fresh off the boat', back from his service, he had made it. But, he wasn't concerned with doing it ever again.

The whiskey burned his throat. It was cheap but it was plentiful and he had no plans on stopping. He would take that pathetic government check and he would put it in the pocket of the first shitty dive bar he found.

“Hey, doll!” he said, raising his empty glass at a leggy blonde standing by the bar and shaking it slightly.

She gave him a scowl, turned her nose up and quickly walked back over to a different table to sit down with her small group of friends. Apparently, she didn't work here. Shit. He almost felt like an ass. Almost. The feeling quickly went away and he contemplated getting up for a refill.

“Hey, if you're not using it, then get off.” A gruff voice said from behind him.

Tig looked over his sun glasses at a large man. The man was obviously referring to the fact that he was sitting on the pool table. With a neck that seemed to thick for his face, and large, ape-like arms that dangled worthlessly at his sides, Tig knew if it came to blows, this asshole was toast. He hadn't had a good fight in awhile and just one look told him that this could be the itch he needed to scratch.

He put a cigarette between his lips and took his time lighting it. With a lazy hand, he pushed his glasses into his short, black hair. “But I am using it, man.”

“Move.”

“Nah--”

“Listen, pretty boy--”

“Pretty boy?” Tig said. His blue eyes flashed and he smiled. The second was one of his true talents, he could twist his lips and flash his teeth, in a way that made men run for the hills and made women fall out of their skirts...or so he had been told. “I've been called lots of things, brother. But that?”

“Just move your ass, okay?” the ape-man said as he jerked a thumb back towards the bar.

Tig didn't like being told what to do. It was one of his weaknesses according to his higher-ups in uniform. They had tried to break him, get him to bend and take one in the ass for Uncle Sam, but he refused. He wasn't about to do it for some low life in some shitty, middle-of-no-where bar.

He took a long drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke over his shoulder. His pulse evened out, his breathing stayed calm, his subconscious entered that special place right before he spilled someone's blood on the pavement.

“Alright, one,” the guy started to count. 

“Oh, you’re counting, now?”

“Two.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Two and a half.”

“Three,” Tig finished for him and pressed the lit end of his smoke into the man's forehead. He may have looked like an ape, but the bastard squealed like a pig. He brought his elbow down in the middle of the man's back as he doubled over and clutched his face. Tig shoved him to the side as one of his friends came at him at a run.

“Fucker!” the second man yelled and managed to land a solid right hook to Tig's cheek.

The prick was wearing rings and Tig knew there would be blood without even looking. As he fell back against the pool table, it screeched across the hardwood floor and a few patrons jumped out of the way. His hand landed in a puddle of beer as he knocked a glass over on the felt and his brief moment of mourning was cut short by another blow to his face. That did it.

With a growl, he headbutted the other man. Skull connected with skull and he gripped his shirt, jerking him towards him before he could fall and sunk his teeth into the man's ear. Tig dug his hands into his hair and shoulder, kept his neck at a ninety degree angle and didn't stop till he felt the skin split between his teeth.

“Fucking psycho!” the man stumbled back and the ape man was back on his feet, yelling, arms stretched out and headed for Tig's neck.

Tig met him head on, bringing a firm right hook into his gut and bringing his knee up to collide with his face as the man doubled over in pain. He reached back and grabbed one of the pool balls, twisting around until it connected with the ape-man's temple. The sound was sickening and he dropped like a brick.

Tig raised up and could feel the first drop of blood slide down his cheek. He reached for his beer and pulled up an empty bottle. Dammit. What a waste. He flung it lazily over his shoulder and grit his teeth when it smashed against the wall.

“You owe me a beer,” he said, giving the man on the ground a kick. He didn't move. The fucker was out cold. He looked at the other man, still holding his bleeding ear and looking at Tig like he was about to start foaming at the mouth. “You gonna pay for it?”

The man just stood there, mouth open like a fish. Tig stooped and dug around in ape-man's pocket until he found his wallet and snatched a twenty-dollar bill from the main compartment. It'd have to do.

He heard the distinct sound of a shotgun being cocked and he looked up just as the bartender and apparent owner of the place was pointing the barrel at his chest.

“Get out, Mister,” he said, firmly. “I'll call the cops.”

“They started it,” Tig said, stuffing the money in his back pocket.

“Well, I'll finish it,” the owner answered, jerking the end of the gun towards the door. “Get out.”

“Gladly,” Tig said, grabbing his leather jacket off the end of the pool table. “This place is a fuckin' dump, anyway, man.”

The man with the ear, or well, lack thereof now, gave him a wide birth as he pushed through the double doors and onto the dark street. He pulled his packet of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket, only to flip the top open and find it empty.

��God dammit,” he cursed, tossing the box across the lot. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. It looked like he'd have to make a stop on the way home.

He threw his leg over his motorcycle and turned on the headlight. A deep glow lit up a small section of the dark parking lot as he kicked it to life and left the pathetic excuse for a pub in the dust.

--

Tell me if you wanna be tagged. I didn’t tag my Perm Tag List because I know you guys are all here for my Pedro Pascal character Fics so---I was not sure if anyone would wanna be tagged in Sons stuff.

[bullet-prooflove]

Special Delivery: Alexander 'Tig' Trager x Reader

Part of @storiesofsvu Holiday Bingo! The square was Winter Cabin!

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx @mortal--soul @thatonesexycancerian @chaoticqueenie98 @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @thanossexual @anime-weeb-4-life @redpoodlern @nu1freakshow @lexondeck @adaydreamaway08 @goblinenby @fanfic-n-tabulous @just-a-girl-who-wrytes @ankhmutes @keyweegirlie @trublu2u @thebaileybugle @joyfulfxckery @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @multiflixshelves @luvvstvrkeyy @goosterroose @storiesofsvu

Part of the Crazy, Fucked Up Love Arc:

Crazy, Fucked Up Kind of Love - Tig discovers your secret.

Not Leaving: - Tig tells you he's not leaving.

Show You - Tig shows you how beautiful you really are.

Welcome Home (NSFW) - You welcome Tig home in a very special way.

Tig decides he wants his first Christmas with the baby to be special, even if his son still resides inside of you. It’s the reason he plans a babymoon a fortnight before your due date. He has everything planned to perfection. He heads up to the cabin a few days before Christmas Eve with Juice and Kozik, together they set up the tree and decorate the cabin. Jax chops firewood outside, leaving the stack alongside the hearth.

The only problem is Tig can’t cook, he has a couple of recipes under his belt but beyond that he’s out of his depth. He asks Gemma for help and as usual she comes through for him.

“You gonna propose or something?” She asks him as she plans out the shopping list.  

“Suzie’s been a trooper while I’ve been running between Stockton and Reno trying to smooth over all this shit with the guns.” He tells Gemma as he sits down at her kitchen table with a cup of coffee. “I haven’t been around as much as I would have liked.”

“You’re trying to make it up to her before the baby comes.” Gemma says knowingly, tapping her pen upon the surface of the notepad.

“I want to remind her how special she is.” Tig explains to Gemma, his thumb tapping against the mug. “How much her and the baby mean to me. It’s not been easy, being apart, especially when she’s so far along.”

“Hence Christmas up in the cabin.” Gemma summarises as she sits back in her chair.  “It’s rustic, it’s quiet, the perfect place to have a little mommy and daddy time before baby Matthew arrives. I’ll cook something up for the two of you and get Chibs to bring it up later with the gifts from him and Evelyn.”

“Thank you, you’re a godsend.” Tig says, kissing her on the cheek as he raises to his feet.

When you step into the cabin, he can see how much you love it. You’ve always wanted to have Christmas in a cabin, you remember telling him that on your second date. You’d been talking about favourite holidays; he wasn’t big on them, but you were. You loved everything about the Christmas season, the lights, the magic, even the Santa suit…

Especially the Santa suit as he had learned last year. He’d noticed the way you’d got a little hot and bothered while editing a Santa porno and decided to test his theory. It had been the most debauched night of his life, the things the two of you had gotten up to…

He can’t look at old St Nick without a blush creeping across his cheeks and he certainly could not return that suit.

You spend the evening in front of the fire, resting on Tig’s chest as you doze on the couch. You listen to the sound of his heart beating in his chest, your fingers playing over the fine chest hair. You’re half asleep when Chibs lets himself in. Tig tilts his head towards the other man who holds up a gift bag of presents in one hand and bag of carefully prepared food in the other.

“Just dropping off.” He says softly, a smile tugging at his features.

You struggle into a sitting position on the couch, your palm smoothing over the roundness of your belly before you say.

“Actually Chibs, I think my water just broke.”

It moves quickly from there.

There’s been a crash on the country road leading up to the cabin, there’s no way an ambulance can get through until the cars have been cleared from the road. It’s a fast labour, before you know it Chibs is between your legs telling you to push. Tig sits behind you, your back pressing against his chest as he murmurs soothing words into your ear.

The language that comes out of your mouth...

A sailor would be proud.

Chibs delivers the baby on the rug in front of the fire.

“Welcome to the world bonnie wee lad.” Chibs grins as he holds up the baby. He has a flock of Tig’s dark hair and the most beautiful blue eyes you’ve ever seen. Chibs wraps the infant up in a fleece blanket from the back of the couch before handing him over to you.

Tig’s cheek comes to rest against yours as you cradle your son close to your chest, his lips ghosting across your skin.

“You did good Suzie Q.” Tig whispers as he looks down at Matthew Filip Trager. “You did so good.”

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[leah-halliwell92]

It’s Over

For @band--psycho​‘s bingo challenge. The prompt is enemies to lovers. Pairing is Tig x Reader

Note: (S/N) = sister’s name

“It was my sister,” you said coldly as you packed your bag.

Flashback

You’d just come back from a week long conference, Tig said he’d be on the road doing club stuff so timing couldn’t have been better. Everything went amazingly well, from your presentation to the doors that had opened for you and your career. Hell you could count the times someone told you to call em if you’re interested in a specific job. You’d done some light research and seen that most are out of state near the Maine area of the U.S. And while that seemed all well and good, you couldn’t just leave the family you’d made behind.

You were making Tigger’s favorite, ready to surprise him by taking it to the shop with promises of play time later. You loaded up the food into your car and made your way to T.Ms a happy grin on your face feeling giddy with all the pent up energy from not having seen your old man in a solid week. Yea there were calls but that shit ain’t the same.

You went through to the office waving at the boys as you passed by. You pressed a kiss to Chibs’ and Happy’s cheeks in greeting as you passed them by batting their hands away from the lunch bag.

“Nu uh,” you said with a grin, “This one is not for you. But let me know what you want me to bring for Sunday dinner and I’ll do my best. By the way have you seen Tiggy anywhere?”

The boys nodded happily but stilted at the question.

“He’s in the back,” Chibs said with a grin.

You noticed he didn’t look quite as teasing as he should have been but chalked it up to jet lag from the bike trip.

Happy didn’t look much better. You were sure if looks could kill someone would be dead with how cold and hard his eyes were.

“Come on little girl I’ll take you,” Happy said with a small smile.

“Lemme put this in tha lounge aye?” Chibs said reaching for the bag.

You furrowed your brows at them and the sudden odd behavior but gave Chibs the bag. You’d never needed any of the boys to take you to the back...

Happy didn’t say much on your way and you were going to say something when you heard moaning and heavy breathing.

You looked to Happy who nodded forward.

You walked up quietly hoping it was one of the prospects getting handsy with a crow eater. Your hopes were dashed at seeing Tig on a chair a woman bouncing on his lap. You covered your mouth to keep from gasping at who it was exactly that was on his lap. Your sister...

You made your way out to where Happy stood a sad look in his eyes.

You pulled out your phone and text widow, ‘Are there cameras in that room?’

You showed him the message and nodded as he confirmed it.

‘Get me a copy of that and make sure her face is visible,’ you typed in.

Happy looked at you startled, he’d never seen you so dead seat on something.

You turned around walked back into the room and took a picture of the deed tearful eyes cold and heart dead.

That done, you turned around and left. Out in the front, Happy and Chibs waited for you both concerned as they looked you over.

You took a seat in the lounge both boys at either side.

“Are ya gonna wait on ‘im?” Chibs asked quietly.

You shrug really not knowing what to do before sighing.

“Is it ok if I crash at either of you apartments?” You asked.

Happy nodded quietly, considering he never uses the place.

“I’ll help ya with your stuff,” Chibs said with a nod.

“No you won’t,” you say with conviction, “Despite everything going on between us now, he’s still your brother.”

“Yea...but if looks could kill he’d be dead,” Happy said with conviction.

You’d become family in the near 5 years you’d been with Tig. You meant a lot to them, even the prospects.

“I promise to keep in touch,” you say taking their hands in each of yours.

They nod and stand one to punch out the other to work the ladder not at all happy with how things ended.

As soon as Happy stepped out to punch out your sister walked out Tig not too far behind her.

“(Y/N)! You’re home!” Your sister said excitedly moving to hug you.

You kept your distance avoiding her hurt look and before she could say anything, you pulled out your phone showing her the picture you’d just taken. 

(S/N) paled at the image.

“It’s not what you think,” she said voice shaky. 

“No you’re right....him and I was not what I thought,” you said voice hard.

She shook her head pleadingly at that but before she could say anything...

“Baby!” Tig cried walking around (S/N) to envelope you in his arms.

You felt sick as he hugged you knowing where he’d been. It also didn’t help that (S/N) had been exactly were. 

“You ok?” He asked when you pulled away, “Did something happen?”

‘Yea you dick you cheated on me with my sister,’ you thought but shook your head and left without a backward glance Happy hot on your heels.

You were heaving from how angry and ready to break you were. Happy saw this and gently held you in place.

“Breath,” he said lowly as you both heard Tig yelling at Chibs.

“I can’t,” you said as tears fell.

“Chibs is being a door stop,” Happy said looking over your shoulder, “But if you wanna leave...”

“We leave after I do this,” you said and walked to Tig’s bike. 

You saw the men freeze as you looked at the bike a not so friendly look on your face.

Before Happy could do anything, you pulled out the knife Tig had given you for Christmas and slashed his tires making sure to leave the knife imbedded in the second tire.

You turn around to see a shocked and mouth agape Happy. 

“Ok...Now I can go,” you said and walked away to your car. 

You were stopped by your crying sister throwing her arms around you as she cried, “(Y/N) please!”

You pushed her off roughly not ready to deal with her yet and ran to your car.

You’d not sooner gotten in you car that you heard Chibs called out, “Move over lass! Ya ain’t in na condition to be drivin’.”

You were about to say no but was pushed to the passenger seat by the Scott. 

“Lemme drive lass, Hap’s holdin’ on ta Tig while ya make yer getaway,” he said with a small laugh as he remembered you’d slashed the bike tires, “Granted he won’ be goin’ nowhere on flat tires.”

Back at home, Chibs found empty boxes to start putting your things in as you told him what belonged to whom while you packed away your clothing.

~End Flashback~

“What the hell man!” You heard Tig yell at Chibs who was loading up the last of two boxes that held your things.

“Babe–”

“It had to be my sister,” you said not turning around continuing to pack your bag.

“Babe please!” He said desperately, walking to where you were and taking things out. 

You slapped his hand, hard, and repacked the clothing he’d taken out.

“And before you start, I saw you don’t give me the “it’s not what you think” crap,” you say as you packed up the last of your clothes.

“It didn’t mean anything!” He yelled.

“It meant enough for you to throw away 5 years together Alexander. Five fucking years I gave to you only to have it thrown in my face cuz my bitch ass of a sister made her cunt available to you while I was away for work,” you yelled turning to look at him, “And the worst thing is that I have no fucking clue how long this has been going on.”

Tig lowered his gaze and scuffed at the rug with his boot.

“How long Alexander?” You asked not really wanting to know the answer. 

“A month...” he mumbled out.

Chibs walked in just as Tig answered the question and looked at his brother in disbelief. 

“You sack o’ shite!” He yelled and punched Tig in the face, “You cheated on the best thing that has happened to ya with ‘er sister for a month! What was it Tig!? Was it the fresh pussy? That she was there? What the FUCK was it Tig!?”

“I don't know!” Tig yelled out as Chibs punched him while he was down, “I don’t know. She came onto me one night I’d mixed two drinks too many and next thing ya know I woke up with her on me.”

“Did it never make you stop and think to come clean!?” Chibs yelled.

“Dude she made me swear not to,” Tig said letting Chibs wale on him for the answer.

You on the other hand stood frozen as everything came to light. 

“She made you swear because of (S/H/N),” you said quietly. 

Chibs turned to look at you questions in his eyes.

“(S/N)’s husband is in the military and is diploid,” you said looking at Chibs, “She’s always been a horny bitch, sad she couldn’t just fuck a prospect and had to go for what wasn’t hers.”

Chibs approached you and nodded to the bags behind you on the bed. 

You nod and he takes them to the car.

“At least now I'm free to fuck any son I want,” you say cruelly, “Because now nothing is sacred, and that is on you. Enjoy the crows Alex, maybe they’ll help you forget about me.”

“But baby I love you!” He yelled after you.

You scoffed and said, “If you did you’d have come to me as soon as it happened. Not gone back for more....fuck you Alexander Trager and hope that this doesn’t make it’s way over seas.”

[rebelwrites]

It’s Always Been You

Tig Trager x Reader

Requested by Anon // Hi! I love your writings! Please can I request a Tig fic? I'd love to see some friends to lovers with him! Maybe reader is sweet and super kind, always looks after him and it just hits him one day that he's in love with her and he tries to brush it off but ends up admitting it to her? Is that too specific? No problem if you don't want to write it! 💕💕

Walking into his house, dropping his keys in the bowl on the side, he closed his eyes as he took in the smell of freshly washed laundry.

Looking around the place was spotless, and dinner was in a tub on the side just needing to be warmed up. There was only one person that had a key to his place, his best friend.

His heart melted at the fact you had been over and cleaned and ever sorted his dinner out for him without even asking, pulling his phone out he quickly sent you a text saying thank you before kicking his boots off.

Grabbing a beer out of the fridge, Tig realised something, something he should have realised months maybe even years ago. It had always been Y/N.

Everything was replying in his mind as he brought the beer bottle to his lips, all the times you had patched him up not asking a single question but making him laugh taking his mind off things, the fact you were always there for him no matter what time it was, you was his confidant, his therapist, his best friend. You made him feel normal rather than a freak, you didn’t see him as a criminal bike you saw him as Alexander Trager.

Running his hand over his face as his feelings hit him like a truck. He couldn’t admit this to you though, he didn’t want to end up losing you, because he’d rather have you in his life as his best friend than nothing at all.

It had been a month since Tig realised he was in love with you but he had done what he always did, brushed his feelings under the rug. But he couldn’t help but watch as you were laughing with his brothers. The fact you didn’t care what they did just made his heart melt, you meant something to every single person in the room.

Downing his shot, he stood on his feet. It was now or never.

Striding over to you with confidence he placed his hand on your hip pulling you close to him whilst his other hand went on your cheek. Within seconds his lips were against yours, it took you a couple of seconds to realise what was happening but as soon as you did you wrapped your arms around his neck smiling into the kiss as everyone started whistling.

“I want you as my girl” Tig whispered against your lips as he pulled away resting his forehead against yours.

“Took your damn time Trager” you giggled “the amount of hints I was dropping I nearly gave up”

“So is that a yes?” He asked nervously.

“Yes you dork it’s a yes” you giggled kissing him softly.

SOA TAGLIST

@chibsytelford @talicat713 @corebore123 @nothingeverdies @teapartydreams @mrspeacem1nusone @khyharah @itmejado @woahitslucyylu @beth-winchester21 @minnicelli @everyhowlmarksthedead @trulysuccubus @haynsey @witching-hour @destynelseclipsa @edonaspanca @abbiesthings @angelreyesgirl @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @jadesamhart @lady-pswrld @ly--canthrope @hennessyauntie @gemini0410 @i-love-scott-mccall @est11 @mystic-shadows42 @sugary-x-sweet @starrynite7114 @skyofficialxx @terminallygenius @sadeyesgf @lauraashley93 @leaalfred @angelreyesgirl89 @sheeshgivemeabreak @marquelapage @meteora-fc @penny4yourthot @justahopelessssromantic @ilikechocolatemilkh @mayans-sauce @xbreezymeadowsx @ben-c-group-therapy @-im-fantastic- @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @fvckthisbxtchup @little-diable

[daddies-of-anarchy]

30 Day "Sons Of Anarchy" Challenge

Day 3 - Favourite couple:

Completely dumbstruck. Love at first sight.

(x)

(x)

Alexander "Tig" Trager (Kim Coates) and Venus Van Dam (Walton Goggins)

"When I'm with you, I don't have any secrets. I mean, I can't. I have to open myself up for this. And... you see everything. All the things that I hide. All the shit that I hate about myself. You see it all, baby. You see it all. And through all that, you still love me? Wow."

- Tig

[drabbles-mc]

Drabbles-MC: Alexander “Tig” Trager Fics

Fic list under the cut!

👀 = smut, 💔 = angst

- Burnt (Part 2)

- Kiss It Better

- Karaoke Night

- Convince Them 💔

- Nothing To Tell 💔

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

Keys:

≋ NSFW / Smut

★ Aurora's faves

You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!

Mayans MC

✨ CANCHE

✨  ANGEL REYES

✨  CHE “TAZA” ROMERO

✨  EZEKIEL “EZ” REYES

✨  GILBERTO “GILLY” LOPEZ

✨  HANK “TRANQ” LOZA

✨  JOHNNY “COCO” CRUZ

✨  LETICIA CRUZ

✨  MARCUS ALVAREZ

✨  MAYANS MC X READER

✨  MICHAEL “RIZ” ARIZA

✨  MIGUEL GALINDO

✨  NERON “CREEPER” VARGAS

✨  NESTOR OCETEVA

✨  OBISPO “BISHOP” LOSA 

✨ OSCAR “EL OSO” RAMOS

Sons of Anarchy

✨  ALEXANDER “TIG” TRAGER

✨ FILIP “CHIBS” TELFORD

✨ JACKSON “JAX” TELLER

✨  JUAN CARLOS “JUICE” ORTIZ

✨  HAPPY LOWMAN

✨ RANDOM SCENES.

✨ SPECIAL EDITIONS:

How would they react to...? (completed)

How would they react to...? WEEK. (completed)

Halloween week. (completed)

Week of headcanons. (completed)

November of Drabbles. (completed)

[bullet-prooflove]

Bonnie: Tig Trager x Reader

Tagging: @mortal--soul @yourwinchesterbros @chaoticqueenie98 @purrrrfect @wakeama @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @nessamc @theeyesofthestag @thanossexual @anime-weeb-4-life @redpoodlern @ravencrow83 @nu1freakshow @the-wandering-lunatic @lexondeck @adaydreamaway08 @just-a-girl-who-wrytes @ankhmutes @keyweegirlie @crimeshowjunkie @theplacewhereallthedemonsgo @poppyrose33 @belovedbastardremus @lora21 @trublu2u @thebaileybugle @spngingerbread21 @tragerlover @yvette22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond @multiflixshelves @luvvstvrkeyy

Crazy, Fucked Up Love Arc:

Crazy, Fucked Up Kind of Love - Tig discovers your secret.

Not Leaving: - Tig tells you he's not leaving.

Show You - Tig shows you how beautiful you really are.

Welcome Home (NSFW) - You welcome Tig home in a very special way.

You’re reading when Tig comes home. You hear him talking in that low, soothing tone of his, the one he usually reserves for the baby. You put your palm upon your stomach before inclining your head towards the door.

You see the dog before you see him, a white Pitbull with a limp. The poor thing looks like it’s been through the ringer, a little battered and bruised around the edges. Your heart aches as you take in the sight of her.

“Here you go girl.” Tig murmurs, a dog bed tucked underneath his arm. He releases the lead, and the dog comes slinking towards you, it’s eyes downcast as you hold out your palm for it to scent.

“Who is this beautiful baby?” You ask, laughing as the dog’s cold nose tickles your hand. You stroke your palm over the top of the dog’s head.

“This is Bonnie.” He says setting the dog bed down before he comes to sit on the couch. “Chibs named her bonnie lass when he was patching her up. It kinda stuck.”

He’s gentle with the dog, his fingers scratching at the space behind Bonnie’s ears before he places a kiss upon on the top of her head. He has a big heart, your man, he’s soft underneath the rings and the leather.

“What happened to her?” You ask as Bonnie’s tail starts to wag.

“Dog fighting.” He tells you, his voice a little rough as his gaze fixates on Bonnie. “It was fucking horrible.”

“Poor Bonnie.” You say quietly, cradling that gorgeous little face between your hands. The dog’s tongue lolls out her mouth and you smile as she snuffles you with doggie kisses.

“I know now is not the right time, with the baby on the way…”

“No, it’s perfect.” You tell him because already you’re so in love with Bonnie. “We’re growing our family and this little lady needs a home.”

“Christ, I love you.” Tig says, his arm wrapping around your shoulders and drawing you close. His lips brush over your temple before he nuzzles into you, his palm coming to rest upon your baby bump. “You’ve given me so much.”

Already his lips are beginning to wander, his heated kisses blessing your sensitive skin.

“Let me give a little something back.” He whispers as his teeth graze that naughty little spot just underneath the curve of your jaw, the one that makes your breathing turn ragged.

“Tig…” You whimper, your fingers threading through his hair. “The dog.”

“Right, right.” He murmurs as he buries his face into the curve of your throat, drinking in the scent of your arousal. “Let’s take this to the bedroom, let Bonnie get settled in here.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[thisishawkins]

Livin’ Like a Lover

Let me know if you would like a second part to his one! Please enjoy!

Much love - K

Ortiz!Reader x Alexander “Tig” Trager (eventual)

Warnings: language

________________

Several of the guys were planted on top of the black tables outside the clubhouse, having a smoke.

A car had just pulled through the gate, and into the lot, Def Leppard blaring from their speakers.

“Here she comes.”, Opie spoke through the cigarette at his lips, eyeing the creme ‘65 Impala that had just parked next to his truck.

Jax glanced at him, then over to the sight that had caught his best friend's attention. Smirking, he grabbed his beer bottle to take a swig.

Tig, however, wasn't aware of the individual that had pulled into the yard as if it were her home. His piercing, icy eyes scanned the restored vehicle, waiting for its owner to jump out as the radio turned off.

You stepped out of your car, placing stray hairs behind your ears while shutting the door to your pride and joy. It had been your grandfather's, and you took it upon yourself to restore it to its former glory before he passed, and he ended up leaving it to you.

Once you spotted the three cuts sitting outside the clubhouse, you began walking over to them with some pep in your step, joy and confidence oozing out of your unwearied physique. The weather was nice, you landed a nice job in town, and you were at Teller-Morrow to see your little brother. Why wouldn't you be happy?

All Tig saw was a beautiful woman walking right toward him, as if God was granting him a gift for being on his best behavior lately. As in, he hadn't managed to break more than one commandment at a time.

“Who is that?”, Tig asked his brothers, entranced.

They both slid their attention to him, an amused smile growing across Opie’s face and a chuckle emitting from Jax.

“That,” Jax told him as you were a few feet away now, “Is Juice’s sister.”

You reached the boys, sliding your aviators to the top of your head.

“How're you guys? Haven't seen you in awhile.”, you greeted Jax and Opie, before your eyes met Tig’s enamored gaze. Your smile inched upward, more intrigued at meeting another member of your brother's club. You wanted to become more familiar with everyone, as Juice was your only remaining family.

“Doing alright, darlin’. And yourself?”, Jax drawed out as he rose up from his seat to hug you.

Pulling away, you answered, “I'm gettin’ through it.” Crossing your arms over your chest, your eyes went back to Tig, again. “And, who’re you?”, you curiously posed.

“The name’s Alex,” he replied, his blue eyes never leaving yours, bringing his hand out to shake yours, “But everyone calls me Tig.”

Your grasped his outstretched hand, shaking it, and chuckled, “As in Tigger?”

“Yeah.”, he scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck, “It's a long story.”

Not many women could make Tig turn bashful, but he'd found one that brought it out. It certainly didn't slip past Opie and Jax, as they were just waiting for you to leave so they could bust his ass about it.

“Well, Alex,” you told him softly, staring into his eyes, putting emphasis on his given name, Tig getting hot just in the way you said it, “I'd love to hear it some time.”

You looked away, enjoying the reaction that you were getting out of him, and asked, “Where's my brother?”

“In the shop. Should be on the far end.”, Opie replied, billowing smoke out if his mouth as he spoke.

“Thanks. See you guys later?”, you spoke, glancing at the three men.

“Sure will. We're throwing a party tonight for the new prospect, you’re welcome to come.” Jax remarked, giving you a devious smirk.

You laughed, “Who else is going to keep the croweaters straight besides the Queen Mother?”

The guys chuckled lowly, and Tig's hungry eyes trailed after you as you made your way over to the shop.

“Smooth, bro.”, Jax commented.

Tig retracted his eyes from your backside and shifted to look at him.

“What? I think she liked me.”

The other two snickered, both thinking the same thing.

“Yeah, good luck with that one.”, Opie voiced before flicking his cigarette to the ground.

Tig pursed his lips at the two of them, clearly not amused. “What, is she crazy? Celibate?”

“No.”, Opie began, rising from the table.

“She's just too good for guys like us.”, Jax finished, before taking the last gulp of his beer. He didn't mean that you were a snob, just that you weren't brought down by the chaos of their lifestyle, or by the corruption of the world.

Tig found himself turning back toward the shop, finding you talking to your brother, Juice, who was wiping himself up from being underneath the Pontiac that he'd been working on for most of the day.

You threw your head back, laughing at whatever Juice had said to you.

“Yeah, well, I'm a fucking catch, don't you guys know?”, Tig told them as he stood up, causing them to chuckle lowly, their minds already working away at the trouble Tig would be in once Juice found out that he had an eye for his sister.

The three men shuffled toward the clubhouse door, stepping inside to meet the much cooler air as it waffed into them.

You happened to glance back over at them as the door shut behind Tig, as you leant up against the metal banister that separated the garage doors.

“You going to the shindig tonight?”, you inquired, before focusing back on your brother.

He smiled, curiosity blooming in his mind, “Why? You want to go?”

“Only to watch after you, Juan.”, you joked.

He rolled his eyes, amused, “Please, I can clearly hold my own. I'm not the baby anymore.”

You smirked, thinking, “But, you'll always be my baby brother.”

“Besides, I'm sure a few of the guys would love to have you around. And Gemma. She seems to like you.”, he explained.

You had already decided to go, but you wanted Juice to think that he was allowing you, so he could feel like he had some authority as a brother, for once.

“I hope so. Gemma doesn't seem like the type to like people.”, you commented.

He laughed at your truth, “Just come, alright? Let loose. It's not a school night. It'll be fine.”, he joked.

You'd gotten a job as a teacher at the elementary school, and it was only a few weeks out from the new year.

“Alright. Just don't get all protective if one of your brothers hit on me, okay? I can take care of myself.”, you told him. He'd almost fought a member at the last club gathering that you'd made an appearance at, and you wouldn't forget it.

He passed you a stern look, “Why, has one of them already tried to make a pass at you?”

You scoffed, “That's for me to take care of and you to stay out of.”

You put your foot down from the metal banister, stepping away from the doorway, “I'll be back later. Don't get trapped underneath that piece of shit.”, you smirked.

Juice chuckled, “See you tonight, sis.”

Walking back to your car, you couldn't help but think about Tig, and become intrigued. There was something about him that you thoroughly liked, and you were set on finding that something out.