#soa preferences

[brunettemarionette]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮

☾‧₊˚ ⋅ ― female reader. no description of features. no mentions of size, race or age.

🇲​​🇦​​🇮​​🇳​ ​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​��​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​ 💜​🇸​​🇴​​🇦​ ​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​

𝗝𝗮𝘅 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Jax spots the guy leaning in too close to you, spouting off some pathetic attempt at a pickup line while tossing in a jab about “wannabe biker boys.” His lips twitch into a deadly smirk as he struts over, confidence oozing with every step.

“Hey, babe,” he says smoothly, wrapping an arm around your waist, his icy blue eyes locking on the clueless idiot. “This clown bothering you?”

When the guy stammers, Jax leans in, his voice dropping low. “Y’know, I’d think twice before badmouthing my club. Especially when I’m the President. But since you didn’t know…” He gives a sharp, humourless laugh. “You’ve got about three seconds to walk away before this gets messy.”

The guy practically trips over himself as he scurries off, and Jax turns back to you, flashing that charming grin. “You alright, darlin’? Let’s get outta here.”

𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼����𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗧𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝘀:

Aggressively Supportive & Protective

𝗖𝗵𝗶𝗯𝘀 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Chibs doesn’t even bother hiding the cold steel in his gaze as he hears the man flirt with you, his Scottish accent turning sharp as glass when he interrupts.

“Yer sure talkin’ a big game for someone who doesn’t know whose girl he’s chattin’ up,” Chibs drawls, stepping between you and the idiot.

The guy scoffs, mentioning something about “bikers and daddy issues,” and that’s all it takes for Chibs’ deadly smirk to surface. “Aye, that’s cute. Now, I’ve got a wee bit of advice for ye: you leave now, or I’ll give ya somethin’ to cry about.”

The guy falters at the glint in Chibs’ eyes, backing off immediately. Once he’s gone, Chibs tilts his head toward you, his voice softening. “You good, love? Let’s grab a drink.”

𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗧𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝘀:

Snarky Power Couple That Can, And Probably Will, Destroy You

𝗧𝗶𝗴  ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Tig hears the guy’s comment about how “guys in leather are overcompensating” and loses it. He storms over, practically buzzing with energy, his wild eyes daring the guy to say another word.

“Excuse me? You got somethin’ to say about me, buddy?” Tig growls, his tone loud enough to make everyone turn and stare.

The guy freezes, trying to laugh it off, but Tig’s already in his face, pointing at you. “You see her? She’s with me. Me. So if you’re gonna keep running your mouth, you’d better hope you’re faster than I am. Spoiler alert: you’re not.”

The guy stammers out an apology and bolts, leaving Tig to turn back to you with a grin. “See that? Chased him off. No one messes with my girl.”

𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗧𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝘀:

Thinks They're In Charge (Tig) x Is Actually In Charge (You)

𝗢𝗽𝗶𝗲 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Opie hears the guy call SAMCRO a “bunch of thugs” while shamelessly flirting with you. He clenches his fists, his jaw ticking as he approaches. He towers over the guy, his deep voice calm but dangerous.

“Got a problem with my club?” Opie asks, his sheer size and quiet intensity enough to make the guy gulp.

When the man stutters, Opie steps closer, his eyes like granite. “And you think hitting on my girl is a good idea? You’re either real stupid or looking for trouble.”

The guy quickly backpedals, muttering apologies as he slinks away. Opie watches him go, then turns to you with a small smile. “You alright? Let’s head out before I change my mind about letting him walk away.”

𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗧𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝘀:

Home Is Wherever You Are

𝗛𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Happy doesn’t need to say much. The second he hears the guy say something about “bikers being all talk,” he strides over silently, his expression as unreadable as ever.

He steps between you and the guy, looking him up and down with cold, assessing eyes. “You like your teeth where they are?” Happy asks, his voice low and gravelly.

The guy blinks, confused, but the pure menace radiating off Happy is enough to make him reconsider whatever dumb thing he was about to say. “N-no problem, man. I was just leaving.”

Happy watches him go, then turns to you with a rare smirk. “You good? Let’s go.”

𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗧𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝘀:

Unaware in public (you) x Overprotective in public (Happy)

𝗝𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗲 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Juice hears the guy call SAMCRO a “bunch of wannabes” while trying to charm you, and he immediately stiffens. He’s not the most intimidating at first glance, but the second he speaks, his tone is sharp.

“You might wanna rethink what you’re saying,” Juice says, stepping up beside you, his eyes narrowing. “That ‘wannabe’ club? That’s my family.”

The guy laughs nervously, trying to brush it off, but Juice isn’t backing down. “And her?” He points at you. “She’s my girl. So why don’t you take your crappy lines somewhere else before I make you regret opening your mouth?”

The guy stumbles over an apology before fleeing, and Juice exhales, turning back to you. “You okay? Let’s get out of here before I really lose it.”

𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗧𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝘀:

You Fell First, But He Fell Harder

𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲 𝗦𝗼𝗻𝗴

Bad Company by Five Finger Death Punch

[witchthewriter]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐬' 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

Warnings: swears, mention of blood and bruising, also creeps

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝐉𝐀𝐗

・Not surprised, but a tad shocked. He was used to this behaviour from his mother.

・But when he laid his eyes on you, all he could feel was pride.

"How'd the other guy look?"

"Way fuckin' worse, sweetheart," you said with a smirk.

"That's my girl."

・His arm wrapped around you as you left the station, Unser already pulling strings to get you out. Plus, the guy wasn't going to press charges.

・While getting on the back of Jax's bike you said, "You know what, it felt pretty good."

"I know it does babe, but please don't make it a regular thing," he replied and lightly slapped you on your thigh.

"I'll do my best..."

𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐄

・"The hell did that come from?" He asked as you walked through the front door, nursing a very swollen black eye. Apparently punching first doesn't mean you've won the fight.

・"Ugh, would you believe me if I said I ran into a pole?"

"You hate running."

"Fuck, you're right."

・Out of all the guys, he's the most surprised. It took him a while to process it, the story, the lump on your forehead.

・But to him, it meant you accepted this life.

・From his first marriage, Opie was used to having a s/o who was against the club, but with you - you took it in your stride.

・Completely intergrating with it.

・He pulled you onto his lap, cupping your face.

"That's a fucking big one," Opie said, tracing the outline of the bruise.

"I know. But I was the only one left standing."

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐒

・Taken aback, mostly upset because you were arrested.

"You're saying my Old Lady, Y/n Telford, was arrested?"

"Yes," Unser said on the other side of the call. He watched you from the door.

Your head was leaning against the cold brick wall. Eyes shut, nose bleeding, but that was the extent of your injuries.

"And may I ask why, she got arrested," Chibs growled.

"She assaulted someone," with Unser's reply, a smile grew on your face.

"She fuckin' what-" then the line went fuzzy and all Unser heard was "I'm coming," before Chibs hung up.

・You weren't worried. Not about being arrested. Because you knew Chibs wouldn't let you stay in here.

・And you were right, because that very afternoon you were released and Chibs grabbed ahold of your face, checking for injuries.

"What were you thinking lass?"

"Oh honey, I wasn't-"

𝐓𝐈𝐆

・Surprised and kinda turned on by it

・It had been pure luck that you weren't arrested. The Sheriffs had been occupied with actual crime ... not a woman punching a creep square in the face.

・However, once Tig came home and saw the swollen, bruised hand of yours, he instantly knew what had happened.

"Look, all I'm gonna say is ... I'm proud of you baby. You put those creeps in their places. But next time, I want a few rounds too."

・You smiled up at him, and went to push yourself up from the couch but grimaced as you used your hand.

"Yeah, it's gonna be a bit tender for a while. Just relax. I'll do whatever you need me to."

・And then he came over and kissed your hand, examining the darkness that was still developing, the splits in the skin.

"Sheesh, you did a good job," Tig mumbled and went to go get your first aid kit.

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘

・The PROUDEST.

・The next day he told everyone in the meeting what happened and all the Sons clapped him on the back.

"Happens to all of us," Jax said with a wink.

・Not only was happy, Happy, he was ecstatic. Because it meant you weren't averse to violence...

・Not that he would readily bring it into the home now, it just meant that you didn't find him or his work disgusting.

・He's always worried about that. That one day, you'll just up and leave because this life isn't for you.

・But you know how he feels, and it was part of the reason why you gave that guy a shiner.

・He would've been only a few years older than you, but he wouldn't stop hitting on you. Not even when you told him you weren't single.

・So you thought, "fuck it, my family is a fucking bikie club," and you went for it.

・Explaining that to Happy made him ... kind of emotional.

𝐉𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐄

・Completely shocked.

・Not in a million years did he think you would be in a fight. Or at least a punch up.

・You were quite fiesty, and that's part of the reason why he loved you

・But he never thought that side of you would become physical.

"Babe, why?" Juice asked over his bowl. He had made dinner that night, wanting to do something.

"The fucker kept on staring at me. Even after I told him to knock it off, twice."

"Oh, he had it coming then."

・A part of him was upset that you had to defend yourself. He always wants to be the one to do that.

[justanoasisimagines]

Sons of Anarchy; Big Spoon or Little Spoon

Hey lovelies, back with another Preference. My requests are open and you can find my request guidelines pinned to the top of the page! Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider

Jax Teller; Big Spoon - Likes to curl himself around you, protecting you. He likes feeling your body pressed against yours.

Bobby Munson; Big spoon - Likes to hug you. Easy access to your neck, for some lazy kisses. Also always has his back to the door just in case.

Alexander "Tig" Trager; Switch - Tig is open about the things he likes and dislikes and he's proud to say sometimes he's the small spoon. He likes feeling your arms wrapped around him. Other times, he likes to know you're safe and protected.

Filip "Chibs" Telford; Big Spoon - Likes to hold you close. Likes the reassurance it gives him knowing you're safe and protected. Likes to have his body pressed against yours.

Clay Morrow; Big Spoon - Feels natural for him. Uses his body as a shield because he never knows when someone may attempt to attack. Also a good position to kiss your face and neck.

Harry "Opie" Winston; Switch - Sometimes Opie likes being the big spoon, wrapping his body around yours while he holds you tightly. Other times, Opie needs to be held. He needs to feel safe and that's in your arms. While Opie is aware of your differences.

Juan "Juice" Ortiz; Little Spoon - Juice likes to have your body pressed against his arms sprawled over his chest, legs entangled together, Juice's hands placed ontop of yours. Juice likes it when you whisper sweet nothings, kissing the side of his neck and head.

Happy Lowman; Big Spoon - Likes to have your body pressed as close as humanly possible, legs tangled. Your head laying on Happy's arm. Happy rests a hand under your nightwear for physical contact.

David Hale; Switch - The majoriy of the time, David's the big spoon. Enjoy's the position, especialy when he comes home late. However, when things are getting tough at the station, he needs to be held as he discusses what's going wrong at the station.

Herman Kozik; Big spoon - Likes the position and the physical contact. Shielding you from the world. Can run his hands up and down your body. Often will swing his leg over your body to draw you closer.

[ravennaortiz]

Love these!💜

Being Juice’s Old Lady would include…

- You two wouldn’t be this movie-like couple who had been highschool sweethearts or anything

- It all started pretty simple, you met at TM, where a friend brought you to a party but from there it went faster than you could have ever imagined

- Juice was head over heels for you, he could barely stop thinking about you for a minute. Luckily, it wouldn’t be much different for you

- After a bit over a year the two of you knew that what you had was special, and Juice asked you to marry him

- You married at the cottage with the club and your closest friends and family members and the day after your wedding you got your crow tattoo

- Your life together would be easy going and loving. Juice would tell you everything he could without putting you in danger. An agreement you both settled for after he came in the first time covered in blood that was certainly not his own

- Spending rainy Sundays cuddled up in bed, watching movies and eating junk food was one of your favourite guilty pleasures

- Juice would love to take you to club parties whenever you would agree to come, making everyone jealous by showing you off

- Though he would always make sure that you knew how much you actually meant to him, that he wouldn’t just want you as an arm candy

- He would bring you breakfast every time a run would take all night or pour you a bath after a long day 

- Juice would love your cooking! He had tried himself every now and then, but after terribly burned steaks and hard potatoes you two decided that cooking should probably remain your thing

- When you knew that Juice would have a long day at work or was too busy to take a break in time, you would sometimes bring over some home cooked food for the guys

- The other members, especially Chibs, would totally adore you. They would love your cooking and just in general what a sweet person you were

- Chibs always liked you best, also because he kept urging Juice on that very first party to finally get his ass up and talk to you

- Juice wanted to make sure you knew that you were the best thing that ever happened to him, which is why he surprised you to your first wedding anniversary with a tattoo of your name right above his heart

- You two would be loving and sweet with each other, yet neither of you would doubt the other’s strengh and that your partner would be there to have your back at any time

[secretlysamcro]

What are your thoughts and feelings on Tara, and also their relationship?

I know Jax was not perfect and he did some shity things but I feel Tara should have taken more accountability for the way her life went.

She was never all in so she shouldn’t have had a baby with him.

Jax gave her a couple of outs yet she stayed.

Like I feel she blamed Jax for her staying but she chose too.

And she knew how much the club and the guys meant to Jax but she looked down on them like shit on her shoe.

I hated her and kind wish she got killed earlier than she did.

Tara was not a good match for him.

Ha! Buckle up cause this is gonna be a long one.

First time I watched the show, 15/16 - no life experience no actual understanding of any fucking thing (even though I thought I knew it all) & when it came to SOA I literally watched it for Jax.

I liked how he looked, how he talked, fuck even how he walked. I would have backed JAX all fucking day, no matter what he did, who he killed, who he hurt I’ll forever be team Jax 🤭(I still do just with more of a level head now, I know right from wrong lol)

& with obsession comes jealousy, I hated Tara, couldn’t fucking stand her. Didn’t care what he did to her I just ??? Could not connect with her at all, I would physically roll my eyes whenever she appeared on the screen. (Sorry Tara lovers don’t drag me again I’m just being honest) & this happened for a while lol even when I rewatched AGAIN, same feelings.

Then, my latest rewatch the end of last year. Oh my god? I honestly think it’s cause I had a baby of my own by then, when it came to her wanting out for the boys etc omg I fucking understood it. I finally saw it from her perspective and it hit me I was like omg I’ve been blinded by my love for Jax this whole time I haven’t actually let myself understand her as a character AT ALL.

so NOW, an actual adult I fucking get it man. & yeah she may have gone around shit the wrong fucking way but overall she just wanted her babies safe (towards the end of the seasons anyway,)

He did give her many outs even before she got pregnant by him, married to him etc & your right she should have took them, but it made me think if it was me??? Would I have taken those outs??? Probably not, (but when I had babies - yes)

BUT love for Jax aside, I dunno if I think they were the right match either, but they had their cute times!!! and if they WERE I don’t think we got to see enough of it man, I now I WISH they showed us more of just them. Like their younger days etc. I know there’s tiny bits mentioned or like on their rap sheets they were both arrested together for drunk & disorderly behaviour and stuff but I think we didn’t get to SEE enough of that you know?

& I DO have a heart btw lol. The scene when he finds her? Ugh the acting by Charlie there is - chefs kiss. & such a sad fucking scene - I did cry lol.

So overall, NOW (ten+ years later lol), she’s aighttttt. Not one of my favourite characters but I get it. Still prefer Wendy tho (AFTER she got her shit together of course)

Thank you for these questions, they’re so fun to answer hehe 🤭🖤

[bellaxgiornata]

During my rewatch of SoA - I cannot decide which version of Jax I prefer more lol Long haired Jax or short...... its such a terrible dilemma to have hahah

No, but seriously!! This is a REAL dilemma!! It happens to me EVERY TIME I watch the series over! But it's more than just long or short hairstyles that I mull over, though I think I usually personally love the later season look with his slicked back hair. If you make a decision, I'd love to hear which one wins 🤣

But every rewatch for me goes like:

Ohhh, baby pretty boy Jax. He's still got this little sweetness to him with the long hair and little bit of scruff. He's so damn cute.

Then we get depressed, troubled Jax with the longer hair and longer beard and I get hooked on him (plus bonus brief man bun).

Short haired Jax is always such a dramatic shift for me, but after a moment, I'm always feeling that Jax. Cause he seems happier and more playful than all the other seasons, so I think that draws me to him.

But then we get the longer haired, slicked back, beefier Jax in the later seasons who is so troubled and so messed up that I just find him incredibly hot. So it always ends up my favorite version of his look--and probably of him in general. He's just so dark and off the rails and I just want to destroy that perfectly styled hair...

[im-just-a-mississippi-girl]

Love it!!

The guys reactions to accidently hurting you- SONS Version

Chibs- "You broke my toes" you stated as the nurse wheeled you out of x-ray. "All of them. Our wedding is tomorrow Filip you continued in a monotone voice. Chibs cringed as he took in what you were saying. "I'm sorry kitten. I only meant to surprise you with my dance moves....I should have taken my boots off" he apologized as he knelt next to you and kissed your hand.

Halfsack- He has apologized a half dozen times as he presses the bag of frozen peas to your left cheek. He had only wanted to show you some self defense techniques like you had asked. He had not expected you to step forward when he swung at you while he was explaining how to duck. The sound of his fist hitting your soft skin almost made him vomit as the scene replayed for him. "I took that hit well I think" you murmured as you wiped away the last remaining tears making him snort. "You did cry less than most of people I hit" he joked as he kissed your forehead.

Happy- "So sorry baby girl" murmured Happy as he fed you ice cream in bed. "Its okay. Was an accident" you replied as you offered him a sincere smile. Your tough biker had taken your injury harder than you. The ribbing from the rets of the club had not helped either. "Should have explained the kickback better. Hell should not have let you try that gun. No need. Just thought you looked hot with it in your hands" ranted Happy before you cut him off with a kiss.

Jax- The silence as you made your way slowly through the clubhouse is honestly loud. Rolling your eyes you see Jax sitting at the head of the table alone. "I am going to start therapy and anger management classes" he stated when he saw you leaning against the door frame. "Yeah, good call. I know you were going for Happy. Weak as tables fault for collapsing under all our weight" you tried to joke. "Good news nothing broken on me at least. Bad news you fucked my crow tattoo up"

Juice-What was suppose to be tipsy, sexy time turned into tipsy where is our medical supplies quickly. He is beside himself as he holds gauze to your ass cheek. Your attempts at humor were not helping the guilt train he had himself on. "Baby, I'm good its not even bleeding" you laugh as you try and turn over on his lap but he keeps you firmly face down. Sighing you stop trying to move. "Juice it was a belt buckle. Not like you stabbed me or meant to do it. Can we please get back to what we were doing?" you pleaded as he mumbled sorry again.

Kozik- Sitting by your bedside he is somber. He cant help but replay the crash over and over again. Trying to decide what he could have done different. What if he hadn't grabbed your arm? Would you have been fine or would you have sailed over the side of the cliff? Was he going to fast? Should he have expected the drunk driver to be coming at you guys around the blind curve? "I'm sorry" he murmurs again as he kisses your hand. The doctors said you will be fine but he's not sure if he will.

Opie- He is beside himself, after the loss of Donna he cant believe he has love. He cant even bring himself to get on the ambulance and his phone call to Jax has the whole club screeching to a stop in front your house. "I killed her" he sobs as Jax kneels next to him. "She asked me to buy a step stool and I was like I'm a step stool. Lifted her up and lost my grip and she hit her head. Before Jax can say anything a paramedic is hovering. "Sir, your wife is demanding you get in the ambulance. She said and I quote stop acting like a blubbering mess or she will give you a reason to act like this."

Ratboy-He cant believe how dumb he was. Has suggested you break up with him a couple times as he carries you down the mountain the two of you had been hiking. You can walk and are fine. Its bruised and scraped knees not broken bones you had told him. "I'm sorry for proposing to you" he blurts out once you guys are at the car. "I mean I love you and want you forever but like for how I did it" he adds as you glare up at him.

Tig- "Well we all learned something today. There is a reason you use certain candles for wax play. Don't go cheap or you end up in the ER" stated Tig with a chuckle as he helped you onto your bed. Careful not to brush the burns on your back and hips. A low growl and the middle finger is all you offered your old man. Tig swallowed hard and sighed. "One day we will look back on tonight and laugh" he tried again as he squeezed one of your butt cheeks playfully. "Go away" you demanded.

Return to Headcanon Masterlist

[harleyj23]

Someone link me hurt comfort fics with SOA characters I beg.

Preferably Chibs of Happy but I’ll take anyone at this rate because I’m having a bad day 😂

[brunettemarionette]

hello :) could i ask for headcanons (separate) for how the guys from SOA (anyone you want :) i was thinking about Jax Juice Tig and Chibs but feel free to add or remove) would react to reader sketching them as they work on cars and bikes? i picture like darling reader working at the TM reception, no client is there and she really wants to practice her drawing skills so she just starts sketching the closest guy she can see? and maybe the guy notices or maybe sees the sketch in some way :) bonus point if said guy has a crush on her heheh thanks :)

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦

☾‧₊˚ ⋅ ― female reader. no description of features. no mentions of size, race or age.

🇲​​🇦​​🇮​​🇳​ ​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​ 💜​🇸​​🇴​​🇦​ ​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​

𝗝𝗮𝘅 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

At first, he doesn't notice. He's too busy working on a Dyna, hands covered in grease, muscles flexing under the shop lights. You're sitting at the reception desk, sketchbook in hand, quietly focused.

He finally catches on when he comes up to grab a beer from the mini-fridge near your desk. As he leans over to snag one, his eyes drift to your sketchpad, and he sees a detailed rendering of him—brows furrowed in concentration, wrench in hand, looking effortlessly cool.

A cocky smirk spreads across his face. "Damn, darlin'. You been staring at me that hard?" His tone is teasing, but there's a definite glint of interest in his eyes.

He picks up the sketchbook, studying the drawing closely. "Shit, you're really good. Got me looking like some biker model."

Totally milks it. "If you wanted a close-up, all you had to do was ask," he adds with a wink.

He keeps bringing it up. Whenever you have a pencil in your hand, he jokes about "posing" for you—flexing a little harder when he knows you're watching.

If he's got a thing for you, he low-key asks Chibs or Opie if he should ask you out. And then he starts paying way more attention to how he looks when he works, knowing you might be sketching again.

𝗖𝗵𝗶𝗯𝘀 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Doesn't notice at first because he's deep in concentration. He's fixing up an old Harley, cigarette between his lips, brows furrowed. You think he looks perfect like this, so you start sketching.

Eventually, he glances up and catches you staring. He raises an eyebrow, smirking. "What are ye up to over there, lass?"

You try to hide the sketchbook, but it's too late. He walks over, wiping his hands on a rag, and gently pulls it from your grip.

His reaction? Pure admiration. "This is… bloody hell, lass. This is fantastic." He runs a finger over the page like he's afraid to smudge it.

Super touched that you chose him as your subject. "Didn't know I was a muse, but I like it."

If he has feelings for you, this moment cements them. There's something about seeing himself through your art that makes his heart clench.

"You should keep drawing me," he murmurs, giving you a look. "I like the way ye see me."

𝗧𝗶𝗴  ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

The moment he sees the sketch, he is dramatic.

"Oh my God, you're obsessed with me," he gasps, clutching his chest like he's been hit with an arrow. "I knew it."

Absolutely hams it up. Starts posing ridiculously, one foot up on a stool, chin tilted like he's in a Vogue photoshoot. "Here, get my good side."

Then he actually takes a proper look at the drawing… and he's shocked. It's not just some casual doodle—there's real detail, effort, and skill.

"Jesus Christ, doll… this is amazing." His voice drops an octave, suddenly more serious. He stares at the way you captured his expression, the way the shadows hit his face.

A rare moment of sincerity from Tig. He might joke around a lot, but seeing himself through your eyes—your eyes—hits different.

If he has a crush on you, this boosts his ego so much. He'll start showing off even more when working, flexing when he turns a wrench, throwing you smirks.

"If you ever wanna sketch me in the nude, just say the word." (He is 100% serious.)

𝗢𝗽𝗶𝗲 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Totally oblivious. He's focused on the bike in front of him, forearms flexing as he tightens a bolt. You, meanwhile, are in full-on artist mode.

Jax is actually the one who busts you. He walks by and sees what you're drawing, then loudly says, "Damn, Ope, you got a fan over here."

Opie turns, confused, and sees the sketch. He instantly gets all awkward. Scratches the back of his neck and looks down at his boots.

"You… you drew me?" His voice is quiet, almost unsure.

When he finally looks at the sketch, he's genuinely amazed. "Holy shit. This is really good."

If he has a thing for you, he is dying inside. Like, full internal panic. He already had a crush, and now you're sitting here drawing him like he's some kind of inspiration?

Tries to play it cool but fails. "So, uh… you just… draw people? Or just me?"

Keeps the sketch if you let him. He folds it up carefully and tucks it into his kutte, carrying it with him like a secret.

𝗛𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

At first, he doesn't react at all. He's working on a custom bike, laser-focused, barely paying attention to anything else.

You don't even realize he knows until he speaks up. Without looking up, he says, "You been staring at me a long time, girl."

You freeze. The pencil in your hand stops moving. "Uh… I was just—"

He turns his head slightly, catching you in the act. One eyebrow raises. "You drawin' me?"

Happy is not a man of many words, but he's intrigued. He walks over, peers down at your sketch, and lets out a low chuckle.

"Damn. You made me look mean." He actually looks pleased.

If he has a crush, this messes him up. He doesn't get flustered, but he does start watching you more closely after this, noticing how often you glance his way.

Might actually ask you to draw him again. But he'll phrase it casually: "You should do another one sometime."

Later, if you're not around, he'll flip back to the page and just… stare at it. A rare, almost smile on his face.

𝗝𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗲 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

This man is a blushing mess.

He finds the drawing completely by accident. Maybe you step away for a second, and he happens to glance at your sketchbook lying open on the desk.

He instantly realizes it's him. His eyes go huge.

Panics. "Oh my God. No way. No freaking way."

When you come back and see him staring, he immediately starts babbling. "This is—you—you actually—Holy shit, you made me look cool!"

Cannot handle it. His ears go red, he's grinning like an idiot, and he keeps sneaking glances at you like he's trying to figure out if this means something.

If he has a crush, this just makes it ten times worse. He starts acting even more awkward around you, fidgeting dropping things, but also trying so hard to be smooth.

Low-key asks Chibs and Tig if he should frame it.

[abernathyvalois]

I just finished circe by madeline miller & i have complicated feelings about it

hmmm guys tell me what you’re reading at the moment and your thoughts on it. or tell me about a recent book you really loved. Or any book. Plz

[olderthannetfic]

Random gush about the Art of the Crackship... i feel like theres a linearly measurable Point in any particular fandom where i start to prefer Crack-taken-seriously over "obvious" ships and fanfic premises Completely. Its like YEAH okay the so and soa probably kissed in between those scenes, yes of course those are the general type of jobs theyd have in a modern au Fair Enough Observation of their Traits.... but can we please start playing Fandom Wipeout trying to run through the trials and tribulations it would take to get the Primary Big Bad and some joe shmoe tertiary side character to have a compelling love affair within the context of their original universe? Its so much fun. Its like putting a huge puzzle of teeeny tiny little pieces together, painstakingly with love and care with the intention to frame it once it's done. The downside being this metaphor is perfect in that puzzles are not Known for being a favorite past time for most people 8"] there's also 100% something to be said for how Powerful it feels to be the Only person posting art and fics for a particular ship. This city is ramshackle and abandoned and it is Mine. King of my pile of lovely dirt 💙

--

[mysticalmallard]

Brother To Brother

Word count: 686

Description: Opie is falling for a waitress and he feels guilty about it and seeks advice from Jax. Part 3 of the opie and the waitress mini series.

SoA Taglist: @arkytiorlecter @aimkatsz @ravennaortiz @darqchilddaydreamz

♥︎ If you wish to be added or removed from this taglist comment or message me ♥︎

Parts:

1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 •

SoA Masterlist ♥︎ Main Masterlist ♥︎ Series Masterlist

Opie was never good with words, more of a man of action as they said. So when it came to his emotions he preferred to stuff them deep down where they wouldn't bother him.

But this was different. Something about her just got under his skin.

He walked across the mechanic shop to his best friend- brother, Jax Teller.

"Hey Jax, can I ask you something?"Jax looks up from the engine he was currently working on and turns to him with a bemused expression.

"Yeah, what's up, Ope?"

Opie takes a deep breath and shoves his hands in his pockets.

"I have a question. And I need you to be serious and not laugh, alright?"Jax stands up straight and wipes his hands on a rag, his curiosity piqued.

"Alright mate, I promise I won't laugh," he replies, his expression now serious.

Opie ran a hand through his hair, looking around to make sure no one else was close enough to hear them.

"I think I'm falling for someone," he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the garage floor.

Jax raised an eyebrow, not expecting that.

"Falling for someone, huh?" he says, crossing his arms. "And who might this 'someone' be?"

"A waitress at the cafe on the outskirts of town," Opie mutters, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "Ever since I went there I can't stop thinking about her."

Jax lets out a low whistle.

"Wow, the waitress at the cafe huh?" he repeats. "You've got it pretty bad, don't you, brother?"

Opie scowls at him, his usual bravado faltering.

"Shut up, man. I'm being serious. I have no idea what to do," he says, the corners of his mouth turning down into a frown.

Jax chuckles and pats his shoulder.

"Calm down, Ope. I'm just messing with you." He grins at his friend. "So, tell me about this waitress. What's she like?"

Opie's frown turned back up into a shy smile.

"She's...perfect," he said, leaning against a desk. "She's sweet, funny, and gorgeous. And she's got these brown eyes that just...I don't know how to explain it. You'd have to see 'em for yourself."

Jax smiles, noticing the dreamy expression on his friend's face.

"Sounds like you really do have it bad," he teases. "But seriously, if you like her so much, why don't you just ask her out?"

"The kids..Donna...Donna has only been...gone...for a year and now I'm....I don't know man...it's too soon right?"Jax's expression softened, understanding the guilt Opie felt.

"Ope, you can't think like that," he said gently. "You're allowed to move on and be happy again. Donna would want that for you."

Opie nods, his chin dropping to his chest.

"I know you're right," he says quietly. "But I can't help feeling guilty. Like I'm betraying her memory or something."

Jax lays a hand on his shoulder, his voice firm.

"You're not betraying her memory. What happened to her was tragic, but you can't let it define the rest of your life. You deserve to be happy again, brother."

Opie looks up at his best friend, appreciating his support.

"Thanks, Jax," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "I just can't shake this feeling of guilt. Like I'm doing something wrong by even thinking about another girl."

Jax shakes his head, his grip on Opie's shoulder tightening.

"You're allowed to have feelings, man," he says firmly. "And it's not wrong for you to have feelings for someone else. Everyone moves on at their own speed, and that's okay."

Opie takes a deep breath, trying to absorb Jax's words.

"I know. I just need to let go of this guilt. It feels like I'm trapped in my head, you know?"Jax nods, his expression understanding.

"I get it, Ope. But trust me, letting go of that guilt will be the best thing you can do for yourself. You deserve to be happy, and if this waitress makes you happy, then you should go for it."

Opie manages a small smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over him.

"Maybe you're right, Jax," he says. "Maybe I need to just take a chance and see where it leads."

[imninahchan]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ˖˙ ᰋ ── part II. Διόνυσος

⠀⠀ ⠀⌜ 𝔖𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔲𝔩𝔱𝔲𝔪 𝔡𝔢 𝔅𝔞𝔠𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔟𝔲𝔰 𝔑𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔦𝔰 𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔲𝔪 ⌝

⠀⠀ Em 186 a.c, os cônsules Quinto Márcio e Espúrio Postúmio proibiram em toda República Romana os rituais delirantes ao deus Baco devido à desordem e aos escândalos.

﹙ ʚɞ˚ ﹚ 𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐒: swann!dionísio, mitologia greco-romana, bebida alcóolica (bebam com moderação), literatura erótica (sexo sem proteção mas se protejam na vida real, dirty talk, lingerie, dumbification, um tapinha). Estou adorando escrever esses especiais porque posso ficar pesquisando horas sobre os cultos aos deuses e ficar colocando referências igual easter egg da marvel.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀.⸙

⠀⠀

𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐎, você aceita prolongar o encontro na casa dele. O apartamento é espaçoso, bem decorado. Honestamente, se depara com mais cores do que esperava. Diversas almofadas, mantas e tapetes fazem com que a sala de estar conjugada se mostre convidativa, aconchegante. Quadros se espalham pelas paredes, e embora o tamanho varie, todos refletem a mesma estética renascentista.

Ele retira o seu casaco, pendura junto a bolsa no cabideiro próximo à porta, cortês. Os seus olhos correm pelo cômodo e se interessam na adega intimista à frente. As garrafas se acumulam nos expositores, ocupam uma parede toda num tom de madeira que se aproxima ao dourado. Parece que está diante de um baú recheado com joias e és um pirata que, finalmente, encontra sua fortuna. Quer beber um?, a voz dele soa suave por cima dos seus ombros, pode escolher qualquer um. “Qualquer um?”, você repete, e mais uma vez ouvindo outra resposta positiva, pende a cabeça para estabelecer contato visual. Se senta no divã, o olhar afiado, “Então, eu quero o melhor, o mais caro.” 

O homem sorri, brevemente, a audácia banha até as suas palavras, o seu tom. Mas caminha até as prateleiras, abre a porta de vidro que sela a repartição e busca por uma garrafa em específico. Recolhe, também, a taça cristalina destinada àquele sabor. Você sente falta de autenticação no frasco, não há nomes, datas, desenhos. Nem mesmo consegue flagrar a coloração do líquido por causa do recipiente escuro. É somente quando te é servida a bebida que pode notar pigmentação levemente rosada. “Este é bastante especial, o último”, te diz antes de deixar a garrafa na mesinha de centro e acomodar-se no sofá adjacente, “Chama-se néctar dos deuses.”

O nome te faz erguer o nariz, metida. “E o que acontece se eu beber?”, pergunta, a taça próxima à boca, “Viro uma deusa, ou algo assim?”

“Não, infelizmente”, ele responde, “Mas é o mais perto que vai chegar do divino.”

A borda fria toca seus lábios, e o líquido desce mais cálido garganta adentro. Doce, de fato, semelhante à substância que ele mencionou. Só que existe um quê a mais, um certo je ne sais quoi que você não consegue definir. Capta um agridoce, ao fim da degustação, uma herança porosa à textura. O aroma, quando inspira, te lembra o frescor de jardins abertos, talvez os campos elísios nos quais os poetas descansam. Algo em ti se transforma depois do gole. “Não vai beber?”, questiona-o.

O homem saca dos bolsos da calça um maço de cigarro e um isqueiro. Guarda o maço sobre a mesinha enquanto o pito se isola entre os lábios. Risco o isqueiro, acende. É só a pós o primeiro trago, a primeira bufada de fumaça para cima que a voz mansa retorna pros seus ouvidos, “Gostei da peça hoje”.

Você não se incomoda com a pergunta ignorada, mantém os olhos de predadora sob o corpo magro no sofá. No movimento dos dedos amassando os fios grisalhos quando correm pelo comprimento. Na postura relaxada, como se oferecesse o colo. Fala calmo, escolhe termos bonitos de ouvir, cujos significados passam longe do seu raciocínio porque prefere perder-se na aura pegajosa dele. E não é nem de longe exagero dizer que nenhum mísero fio de pensamento se constrói na sua cabeça. Swann tem dessas coisas, não? Ele tira, mesmo que inconscientemente, bagunça o seu tino, te revela uma bacante de guirlanda de hera e tirso nas mãos; furiosa e primitiva. Sente uma intensa repulsa por não possuí-lo, por vê-lo interagir com outros senão você mesma. Chama pelos seus instintos selvagens, a doce vontade de comer acima de qualquer juízo. É o vinho que estava na sua taça e esquentou a goela. Dos quais as propriedades se misturam às entranhas e denunciam o calor que te incendeia desde a primeira vez que colocou os olhos nele.

Jamais desejou alguém com tamanha urgência. Por mais entretida que pudesse ficar com a ladainha sobre artes, não se permite desfrutar do assunto pois te é mais divertido pensar no quão prazeroso seria foder com ele aqui e agora.

Sem pensar duas vezes, ergue e repousa a perna no encosto do divã.

“E é legal pensar que...”, ele pausa no meio da cena, ao visualizar as suas pernas espaçadas. Traga mais uma vez, expulsa a fumaça. A barra do seu vestido se embola, é possível ver, agora, a cinta liga se conectando as meias 7/8. Não sorri, porém o olhar sério não é repreensivo, pelo contrário, a aparente indiferença te excita. “Tem algo por baixo desse vestido que queira me mostrar?”

“Se vier aqui e tirá-lo, vai poder ver.”

O cigarro é apagado no cinzeiro. Swann se levanta do sofá e caminha até o divã. Tem delicadeza para beijar as costas das suas mãos e te erguer, mas lhe falta fineza ao agarrar a sua cintura e te colocar de costas. O vestido cai fácil, expõe as curvas delineado pelo conjunto rendado. Deixa um beijo no seu ombro, “estava guardando isso tudo pra quando?”

“Pra quando cala-se a boca e me comesse”, se vira de volta para ele.

Swann sorri, “Não escutou uma palavra que eu disse, escutou?”, sussurra pertinho do seu rosto. Não, você nega em outro sussurro. Ao passo que ele mesmo desabotoa a camisa, os seus dedinhos nervosos desafivelam o cinto, se preocupando em despi-lo da cintura pra baixo. “Pensei que tivesse um pouco de cérebro”, faz questão de estar com a ponta do nariz relando na sua bochecha enquanto fala, com charme, o indicador apontando na sua têmpora, “mas é tão morta aqui dentro quanto todas as outras putas.”

“O que eu posso fazer quando tudo que me faz pensar é no quanto quero que me coma?”

“É?”, o sorriso aumenta. Cata as suas mãos no ar antes que possa tocar na nudez masculina, “Quero te ouvir você pedindo, então.”

“Já não demonstrei que quero o suficiente?”, não o olha nos olhos, mas nos lábios, sedenta.

O toque áspero da mão pegando o seu maxilar te faz arfar, “Quero ouvir você pedindo”, demanda, “Quero que diga exatamente o que quer que aconteça aqui, de joelhos. Só concedo o que me é pedido.”

Você, então, se ajoelha. Se apoia com as mãos nas coxas dele, os olhinhos parecendo duas vezes maiores, pedintes, nesse ângulo. A atenção se alterna entre a vontade de encará-lo e a concentração roubada pela ereção pulsante a poucos centímetro do seu rosto. “Quero você”, diz de início, “Quero que foda cada partezinha do meu corpo, até que não consiga mais levantar, ou que sinta doer... Quer que eu seja mais específica?”, a sua ousadia conhece o pesa da mão dele na sua nuca, quero que peça por favor, e, por isso, você pede, sem rodeios, “Por favor, me come.”

O ego masculino se satisfaz com o seu apelo. Deita as costas no encosto do divã, te convida para o colo, “Obedece bem”, as mãos circulam o seu quadril, “agora merece se foder até não aguentar mais, não é isso, meu amor?”

Você tem fome, ânsia, mal escuta o que ele te murmura, assim que pode escorregar tudo pra dentro, se empala e movimenta-se de imediato. Os olhos cerram, a boca entreabrindo, ofegante nas primeiras sentadas. Arranha as unhas nos ombros dele, os gemidos soam mais altos que a orquestra do seu corpo se chocando ao dele. É só com o estalo do tapa na sua bunda que o seu compasso diminui, arfando, tonta de tesão. “Tão estúpida que nem consegue manter um ritmo, hm?”, ele continua falando, totalmente dono de si e da situação. “O que foi, ahm?”, ainda tenta acompanhar o seu rosto perdido, a cabeça pendendo de um lado pro outro, molinha. “O quê? Não sabe montar? Quer que eu te ensine?”, sorri, “Melhor: quer que eu te pegue pra foder, pra que possa deitar aqui e apenas ficar paradinha recebendo a quantidade de pica que tanto sonhou?”, e agora um sorriso domina a sua face, “É isso que quer, não é?”

A mão ocupa o seu pescoço, é o impulso firme necessário pra que te tombe sobre o estofado. A boca não abandona a sua, coladas o caminho todo até as posições se inverterem. Te beija, sorri contra os seus lábios, devasso. A experiência aguda o faz ajeitar uma almofada na altura do seu cóccix antes de começar a meter. Tem velocidade e segurança, te acerta por dentro de modo que apaga de vez a mente.

Está domada, completamente levada pelo prazer que te é proporcionado. Os olhinhos revirados encontram a beleza classicista dos detalhes no teto. As bordas douradas em arabesco limitando um mural colorido: o cortejo feminino e bêbado, a nudez regada às videiras e as jarras douradas espalhando vinho pelo percurso. Centralizado, o deus roga por seus súditos e pelos crimes rituais que cometeram em prece. Vê, nos olhos esbugalhados da corte, a insanidade de se entregar ao festim. Geme, arranhando a nuca do homem, puxando os cabelos dele entre os dedos. Se provar da loucura também, se ganhar o néctar divino na pontinha da língua, jorrando quente e libertino, será que amanhã ainda vai se lembrar que fez parte do brado báquico?

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 𝔑𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔦𝔰 𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔲𝔪 [𝔅]𝔞𝔠𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔥𝔞𝔟𝔲𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔢 𝔳𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔱.

[redd956]

Worldbuilding & Writing: Family Values & Traditions

Worldbuilding family values and traditions adds to realism and depth of the world, especially if we're messing around in a story with lots of familial interaction.

There's lots of different places I like to pull from when designing what traditions and values families hold in a worldbuilt society. I try to mix these up from region to region (nation to nation) if I'm working on a large scale world with many different major cultures. I often try to reflect certain cultural values on very small family scales too to create certain values and whatnot.

Religion

Many religion have a household shrine. Sometimes these are smaller scale shrines the size of a table, with decor and offerings, and sometimes these are large extensions of the household's plot that could lead into graves, or specific religion buildings/shrines.

Religion also finds its way into the household, whether through rituals like prayer mats or values like patriarchy lead, chastity, or marriage expectations.

An example of this from my own worldbuilding (SOA series) would be the house shrines to the eight gods of magic, which are primarily worshipped by spellcasters. Many of the offerings they leave include popular potion and spell ingredients, spell parchment, incense, and good sticks for wands. Primarily children gather sticks, and as people get older they put in more serious and expensive offerings.

These shrines are small, usually located in a room where the family would be in a lot such as the living room, entry room, or kitchen.

Keeping up with the offerings and maintenance of the shrine represents the important values to the True Mages (followers of the Ochtarian Magical gods) which is resourcefulness, devotion, and charity.

Meanwhile in a very different culture within the same galaxy, the solitude and majority antisocial population of the Ronscovians also have small household shrines. These are always in the living room, and are actually separate from modern religion, and is simply a tradition kept over from older faiths.

Ronscovians who prefer smaller households and flying the coop as early as possible burn incense and sage at the altar, write letters to the dead, burn candles to ward off bad winters, and put up portraits of their moved out family members.

Traditions

Traditions not only come from religion or culture, but can be unique to small regions, towns, specific families, and more. Think for instance all the different kinds of Christmas traditions. In the United States alone some families throw out reindeer feed, some open one gift on Christmas eve and the rest on Christmas day, some dress up as Santa in their own home to surprise their sneaky kids, and some decorate the Christmas tree has a family.

Traditions can also be coming of age traditions, like Quinceaneras or Bar Mitzvahs. There's also all kinds of family gatherings. Family heirlooms are also a nice added touch.

Maybe it's a cursed object, a magical sword, a forbidden spell scroll, a dress sewn together by elves, or a ancient forge in the mountains.

By Blood Values

Some cultures have values that uphold family above all else. We see this kind of behavior especially form in societies with collectivism, conformism, and caste systems.

There are pros and cons to this familial mindset, mainly thinking about the needs of the many over the few, but when this often can be life ruining for minorities of beliefs in the family as they may be mistreated or taken advantage of in the name of blood.

By blood valued families are also more likely to continue to accept black sheep no matter the crime, abuse, or personality. For a culture with large families, high crime rate, and strict religious or cultural values having a by blood principle can compliment the worldbuilding.

Found Family values

Then there's cultures that can better support the individual, especially found families and newfound households. We see these kinds of behaviors in very individualistic and countercultural societies.

There are pros and cons to this familial mindset too. Very diverse cultures can develop a healthy mix of both. The pros are that abuse survivors, minorities, and non-stereotypical families to the culture can have easier lives with less judgement. The cons are that families typically have higher breaking up rates, siblings/relatives are often less close to each other, and families typically have less children.

These kinds of values can be very important, and largely conformists cultures are lost, but way too far on the other end and you can end up with some antinatalism style nonsense.

In worldbuilding I typically give societies that have had recent major reformations, civil rights movements, or recently achieved independence this kind of cultural mindset.

Sometimes I even space these out between generations in the same nation, like Ronscovia.

Cultural

Our cultures reflect in every part of our lives, including the family. A sexist is culture is very likely to have sexist family roles. A culture that views nature as sacred is likely to have open spaces in the average house plot for gardens or a courtyard. A culture that upholds familial closeness could have several generations living on one complex.

I try to remember that this includes magic and sci-fi technology too.

[kokoandkookie]

2. Honesty

Pairing : businessman!Jungkook x businesswoman!reader named Soa.

Genre : office romance, infidelity, marriage au.

Summary : Soa finds out that Jeongguk has been unfaithful. She takes it upon herself to remove his shares from her family company.

Warnings: Cheating, Tears

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Her office felt colder than it had ever been. The polished dark marble bore the weight of silent war. Shafts of sunlight bounced off the windows in fractured lines, painting Soa in jagged snapshots of her own silhouette—crowned in stained glass, but broken. Cracked in a way she had never expected to be.

Jeongguk stood behind her, silent, raw with regret. His suit, a shell from a man he used to be, hung off his shoulders like a too-loose coat, its fabric still carrying all the weight of polished appearances. Behind him, the double doors swung closed with a hush that sounded louder than a slammed exit.

She would have preferred him to slam it.

His foot was halfway in front of the door when she spoke.

“Get out.”

Her voice was low. Even. The blade hidden in her tone made him stop. Not enough to cost him another step, but enough to remind him how much ground he’d already lost. She’s never spoken to him life that.

Soa’s blazer slipped from her shoulders. She folded her arms tight over her chest as though she could hold every part of herself in, except the part that was bleeding. The chair behind her caught the jacket with a soft, final tap, and she wrapped herself in stoic composure.

“Now isn’t the time to grovel back to me,” She told him, chin raised, voice cold.

Jeongguk’s chest tightened.

“I’m not leaving,” he said, rawness smudging his control. “We need to talk.”

The single laugh she gave him cracked the air, sharper than a whip, colder than a crack in the ice.

“Now you want to talk?” she scoffed.

His fists clenched at his sides. Every heartbeat screamed a confession.

He swallowed and forced words out. “You think you’re the only one bleeding?”

Soa didn’t turn. She didn’t have to.

But blood was already seeping through his voice.

“No,” she finally said. Quiet. Cruel. “I think you’re the only one who folded.”

It was a wound he wouldn’t—couldn’t—recover from. He blinked hard.

He stepped forward. Soa held her ground. Spine iron, hope dead. Her eyes the coldest he’d ever seen them be when looking at him.

“You think I wanted this to happen?” He asked, the sound of it shattering like a stone breaking glass.

She sighed and let her eyes travel the length of him, down to the hands that had once protected her, now held themselves up like stained trophies.

“No,” she said. Then softer, “I think you let it happen.”

Silence boiled between them. Her words thrummed with accusation and grief and the kind of heartbreak that didn’t look like grief anymore. It looked like fury. She was angry at him. Angry at the scandal, angry at him throwing away years of love and dedication to someone random. Someone she never saw coming.

The second set of words came out in a rush, unfiltered.

“You got weak,” she whispered. Her voice broke before she could shield it. “Instead of saying you felt like you were drowning … you reached for the easiest buoy. You didn’t come to me, Jeongguk”

The use of his name struck a never. The room spun as though the lights danced off every line in her face, as though he’d only just seen her.

“I couldn’t come to you,” he said finally, breath low and ragged. The words felt hollow but true.

Her head snapped to him.

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t leave room for anyone else’s strength,” he whispered back, almost afraid to say it out loud. Pain spiraling into accusation. “You want to be everything. You want to hold the world in your palm and still be adored. There’s no room for me stand beside you.”

She closed her eyes. But her spine didn’t bow.

“I would have stood beside you,” she whispered.

“You don’t let anyone help!” he screamed.

She didn’t even blink. Not a flinch.

Then he said something he couldn’t retract.

“You stand in the front like a queen with no king. And wonder why everyone’s too scared to approach. I told you then that I would never compete with your power. I still won’t do it it today.”

Truth stabbed harder than any lie.

In that moment her hands shook, tight fists at her sides. Lip quivering. She didn’t break. She bled.

He saw it.

A single tear slithered down her cheek slowly, silently. Like a wound reopening.

“You think I wanted to lead?” she said softly, voice thin as breath. “You think I enjoy carrying every sword? Fixing everything? Smiling so Belle never asks why I’m crying, too?”

He heard it, felt it, in his chest as though it was his own ribcage cracking.

She studied him, eyes blazing but arms wrapped in her own pain.

Because of him.

Then she whispered the words that landed like a fist to his gut.

“You were never strong enough to stand beside me, Jeongguk. That’s why it’s so easy for you to fall for her, because she praises you.” She gestured toward him, her eyes glistening as she looked into his. “And maybe it’s my fault for thinking you’d ever be able to rise to the occasion, become the man who would walk beside me.”

He saw it then. The truth hung raw between them. He had always been behind, not beside. Always out of breath.

He jerked, as though shot.

“I wanted you to lead me,” she said. “I wanted us to fight it together. But when you folded, I kept fighting.”

She didn’t need to elaborate. He knew.

His chest squeezed so tight he couldn’t breathe.

And then—the denial that shattered everything.

“I didn’t sleep with her.”

Time paused.

Her whole body froze. She was fire and ice in one frame. A queen in her ruin.

He took a single step forward—slow, desperate, hungry for absolution.

“I swear,” he said softly. “I didn’t. Wouldn’t do that to you or Belle.”

He didn’t lie. But the truth tasted bitter.

He didn’t sleep with her, but he had craved being seen. Somehow that felt worse. It carried threads of a deeper intimacy.

Soa stared at him. Her tears were loud.

Air felt thick.

She sagged. Fell into the high-backed chair behind her, head pressed against velvet. It swallowed her sorrow and her dignity all at once.

Jeongguk stifled a sob, barely audible.

She didn’t stop him when he fell to his knees, head pressed to her lap. Mistakes were his shroud, sorrow his penance.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her dress. “I’m so fucking sorry. I let it go on too long. I ruined our family.” He held onto her.

Her arms didn’t wrap around him. She let him stay, this soldier naked in his surrender. It broke to see her husband that way. She’s never imagined that was how he felt and somehow she should have expected it. Taehyung had always called it, even though Jeongguk was his best friend.

She felt his tears seep down—into the part of her that still loved him. She hated seeing him in the floor, beneath her. Something she never wanted to ever witness or be the cause of.

“I’m sorry,” He said again, a fragile echo.

He didn’t move. Just held that space. Held it like a gift. Because inheritance and forgiveness don’t look like a clean slate—they look like this: humanity laid bare.

Not forgiveness. Not love back. But:

Honesty.