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bellaxgiornata · 3 days ago

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Not Like Before Chapter Four

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So…she was lying?” Emilia asked.

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise?” she asked hopefully.

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you, too, Em,” you replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the hell had that just been?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Course I do,” Jax muttered.

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

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

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

“And what’s that?” Jax asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#jax teller x reader #jax teller #jax teller x you #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #soa #soa fanfiction

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