#// jax teller // headcanons

[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

[pileofboneswrites]

TAILSPIN.

SUMMARY — after receiving an unintelligible call from jax, you rush back to charming to discover your son, abel, has been kidnapped by camerson hayes, and worst yet, he also killed your younger brother that you practically raised.

PAIRING — exhusband!jax teller x fem!halfsack'ssister!reader | juice ortiz x reader

WORD COUNT — 3.8k

WARNINGS — established relationship(s), kidnapping, murder, death, past child neglect (about reader and her brother), divorce, premature birth, pregnancy complications, agent stahl, swearing, fighting, angst, loss of loved ones, suicidal thoughts, contemplation of suicide, cheating, allusion to smut but no description, no use of y/n (she's actually only outwardsly referenced 2 times and is referred to as miss epps or epps).

AUTHORS NOTES — just to clear somethings up; jax married reader instead of wendy, and instead of drugs being the reason abel was born early it was just due to pregnancy complications.

MASTERLIST | SONS OF ANARCHY

your heart was slamming rapidly into your ribcage, panic rolling off your skin in waves. you push the pedal to the floor, the idea of a speeding ticket not even remotely close to crossing your mind. this was your fault, it was. leaving charming, even for a few hours always felt like it had consequences. something bad always seemed to happen the moment you crossed the county line. your tires squeal as you peel into the teller-morrow parking lot, slamming your car in park as you jump out, only barely remembering to take off your seatbelt as you go. clay, piney, and opie are standing by the entrance to the clubhouse, sad expressions creasing their features.

"what happened?!" you ask, your voice loud, panicked and harsh.

the surprise on their faces from your tone has silence ringing in your ears. you'd known them for years, opie, jax and you being quite the troublesome trio through most of your youth. they'd never heard you raise your voice before, let alone the venom behind your words.

"someone answer me!" you shout, your entire body vibrates from the panic working its way down to your stomach.

you're going to puke if someone doesn't tell you what the hell is going on, and soon. you'd received a rather frantic voicemail from jax last night and hadn't been able to reach him since, which is what made you turn your car around and head for the clubhouse. his voice was shakey, and you couldn't hear a damn thing that made sense. but you know jax, and jax doesn't panic. he's dealt with and seen it all through the years, he's not easy to shake. so hearing your husband–well soon-to-be ex-husband–in that state had your mind reeling.

"kiddo, you need to take a deep breath." clay starts, attempting to sling an arm around your shoulders.

you shrug him off, "no! you need to tell me what the hell is going on, and why jax called me in a panic, and where the hell he is!"

it comes out as one rushed sentence, barely comprehensible but opie steps towards you. he rests a large hand on your shoulder, a distraught look on his face.

"we need you to take a breath, seriously, epps. i'll tell exactly what's happening, but you've barely taken a breath since walking over here, and you look like you're going to passout."

you nod, sucking in some extremely needed air. you take a second to just regulate yourself, and in that time, opie steers you over to one of the picnic tables. you sit down, back to the table and once you've calmed a little, you cross your arms and look up at him expectantly.

"alright, now, tell me."

he glances back at clay, and at his dad, before looking back to you. they turn and walk into the clubhouse, giving you two some privacy.

"cameron hayes killed your brother because he thinks gemma killed edmund,"

"w-what?" you ask, bottom lip wobbling, your head is spinning

your baby brother is... dead? eddie is dead? cameron hayes killed your brother? you shake your head, wiping your eyes on the sleeve of your flannel. you'd practically raised eddie. your mom was a drunk, and your dad had left long before you could form any memories of him. so, from ten on, you were big sister, mommy and daddy all rolled into one. you taught him manners, how to use the toilet, how to cook, how to flirt with girls, and so many more things. you'd been there for every step of his life, cheering loud enough to drown out the naysayers.

when he left for the military you were terrified that you'd get that call every parent dreds. sure, you weren't really his mom, you couldn't be with the five year age gap, but in all the areas that mattered, you were. eddie was your first kid in a twisted sense, and knowing that he'd made it all the way home from iraq, only to die at the hands of someone affiliated with the club that he loved so much shattered your heart.

"n-no, that's not possible, i-i just sp-spoke to eddie, we-we just spoke this morning. h-he said he and-and-and-and," you're spiraling, mind and heart racing faster, and faster before your expression drops, and your mind clears. "abel. he was taking tara back to jax's to get some of abel's things. where is my baby? where's abel, harry? where is my baby?"

you're sobbing uncontrollably, your entire body shaking as you slide off the seat of the picnic table, onto the concrete. opie pulls you into his chest, and you sob into his shirt. it's another first for all of them, watching you breakdown, watching you cry.

"we're going to find abel," opie says into your ear, trying to calm you down, it doesn't help, you just cry harder.

it shouldn't have happened in the first place! the club was on lockdown. losing eddie is hard enough, but losing your son in the same span of minutes is devastating. it takes you twenty minutes, but when you finally pull yourself together again you pat opie's arm, and stand up.

"where is jax?" you ask quietly, taking a deep breath.

"he's at home, we're heading over there now, let juice drive you, you shouldn't be driving right now." opie says, and you nod.

normally you'd fight him, which he's well aware of, but knowing your son is god knows where has you in an anxious tailspin. you don't have the energy to fight with anyone right now. opie walks you over to your car, tucking you into the passenger seat and waiting by the door for the other's to come out of the clubhouse.

"what happened exactly?" your voice is barely a whisper, and opie looks worried.

"are you sure you want the run down right now?" he questions, and you immediately nod, your eyes on the hood of your car.

"please, ope," its the most desperate, pathetic sound to ever cross your lips, but you have to know.

he takes a deep breath, "what tara says happened, is that gemma took off while they were out, so she sent your brother to watch over her, and she went to jax's house. stahl freaked, shot edmund hayes, gemma shot polly, and stahl pinned the blame on her. half– eddie took off to find tara, and cameron must have followed him from their safe house. cameron was going to kill abel, but your brother stepped in, and got stabbed in the process. he tied her up in the nursery, and left with abel."

"the same man who killed my brother, has my son?" you ask, and he nods. "and tara just let him take my son?"

"well, i wouldn't say that—"

"everyone's ready," juice says, stepping up to the driver's side window, pulling the door open.

"hang tight," opie says, patting your knee before closing the door, and walking over to his bike.

"hey baby," juice says softly, "i'm sorry."

you nod, but don't say anything. you pull your seatbelt on, and lean back. you and juice had been together for a couple of months, with jax's blessing of course. he'd been great, amazing even. part of you would always love jax in a way that juice would understand, and he was okay with that. knowing you would be crawling into bed with him every night was good enough to ease any worries he might have had. juice had been rock solid in your life, a shoulder you privately cried on when jax had initially asked for the divorce.

you saw it coming from a mile away, while you'd loved each other greatly, it just wasn't the same kind. you knew that in the beginning, the middle and especially at the end. you also knew that if you didn't agree, or you tried to convince him to stay, that you'd lose him for real. he'd grow to resent you, and you'd grown to hate him for resenting you. you couldn't live in a world where jax wasn't at least a part of your life in some capacity. so that meant an amicable split, and seeing him when you dropped off abel. despite what most people think about your relationship, things haven't changed.

jax is still one of your best friends, and when you're not working, you're usually at his house. your relationship label may have changed, but your relationship hadn't. opie had been the most worried when you'd told him you were getting divorced. his two best friends splitting? nightmare. but when you told him there were no hard feelings, well, he actually didn't believe you at first. it took seeing you both in action to actually understand that you were serious. then, you found out you were pregnant.

it didn't change anything, you were still getting divorced, but jax was actually really excited. he'd told you about all his worries about becoming a father, and you reassured him that he'd be great. in turn he did the same for you. he joined you at every appointment, and played a very active role in your pregnancy. he helped you find an apartment close to his house, and spent a lot of time by your side helping you with nursery set up, moving, and everything in between.

gemma was probably the most heartbroken over your split. she loved you just as much as (and sometimes more than) jax. she helped you a lot over the years, especially when she found out about her grandbaby. gemma made the transition from wife, to ex and baby momma so much easier. she was a cheerleader for you, and always in your corner. you were incredibly lucky to have them, and be in the situation you were in. tara on the other hand... she was the opposite. gemma clocked it the moment you went into labour prematurely.

you'd been stressed over work, being the only manager on an already understaffed team was difficult but so was being pregnant. you'd never planned on getting pregnant, so there were a lot of things at work you decided were to be dealt with later. the moment you found out, you were trying your damnedest to get things ready. the stress got to you, and manifested itself in making your pregnancy high risk, and then landing you in the hospital way earlier than you should have been. it was obvious to you the moment jax came to see you after abel was born that tara thought it was your fault.

later it became clear to you that she just didn't like you, something you didn't notice in your teen years. you'd never really spent any time with her then, but the more time you spent with her after your son's birth, because lets face it anytime you went to visit jax she was there. all smiles, and cooing at your son until jax left the room, and then a scowl and general disinterest in you reared its ugly head. now things were different. she let a terrorist kill your baby brother, and kidnapp your son. karma was about to take her ass for a ride, and you were going to be driving.

"hey," juice says, his warm hand finding yours over the center console, snapping you from your thoughts. "we're here,"

you turn your head, and see clay speaking to tara in the doorway. your vision goes dark. you don't even remember getting out of the car, let alone walking over to tara and grabbing a handful of her hair. you're yelling is incomprehensible, but it's obvious to onlookers that you're sobbing as you beat the shit out of her. you come to again with juice's arms around you, pulling you into the house, and opie pulling tara inside into a different room. your only injury is three claw marks across your cheek, but tara is quite a bit worse for ware.

"what the hell were you thinking?!" jax snaps at you, upon pulling you away from juice, and into abel's nursery.

"i was thinking about how that bitch let some guy take my fucking baby and kill my baby brother!" you scream at him, breaking down all over again. "my baby..."

his expression softens, and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into a hug. you sob into his shoulder, loud, heartbreaking, borderline violent wails.

"i'm sorry about your brother, i really am, but you can't blame tara."

you pull back, weaseling away from his grip, "can't i?"

"it could have happened to anyone, it could have happened to you."

"i would have died, jackson, and i think you better than anyone knows that. i would have died for abel. for eddie. i would not have let that man get away with everything i love." you say, sobering, violent, hot anger courses through you. "i would have died or killed him. i wouldn't have let him walk out the door."

he just stares at you. his once bright blue eyes dark, like the light behind them died. you know he knows exactly how you feel. that he blames tara to some degree. but you don't really care. you're numb. your heart aching in a way you've never felt before. in a way you'd never wish upon your worst enemy. tara included, despite what she did. the worst part is you don't have the one person you want to talk to about it. eddie died protecting her, and his nephew. what did tara do? she let herself get tied up, let cameron take your baby, let cameron kill your brother. tara lost nothing, and once again, you've lost everything.

"i want to kill her jax," you say finally, after what feels like an eternity of silence, his sad eyes just staring back at you. "that's not rational, not right. but i've just lost the two single most important people in my life, and i want to kill her for it."

"i understand what you're saying, why you're saying it," he says slowly, "but you're right, it's not rational."

"when abel comes home, she's not allowed to be around him by herself. i don't care what that means. i don't feel comfortable with her being alone with our son." you tell him, fingers grasping the cool leather of his kutte to pull him in closer. "i don't want to see, hear or think about her until then, and you bet your ass, i'm coming with you to bring him home, whatever, and wherever that takes us."

jax briefly looks scared of you, but he collects himself just as quickly as you let him go, and brush past him back out the way you came.

"you're lucky you're not dead," you seeth, flipping tara off with both hands as you walk back out to your car.

worried about your well-being and your mental state, jax sends juice home with you when you leave. the drive to your apartment, albeit quick, is silent. how does one comfort someone who lost both their only child, and only brother in a matter of minutes? besides, juice knows you well enough to know that you'll talk when you're ready. if you're ever ready. and right now? you don't know if you'll ever be. the fear of unraveling that far scares you. so for now, you think positively, and you keep moving forward.

it takes four hours, before agent stahl is in your living room, sitting on your couch. juice stands in the kitchen, watching the exchange from the sink, where he's washing your lunch dishes.

"so, mrs teller, where were you yesterday afternoon?" she asks, and you immediately understand why the club hates the woman so much.

"the divorce might not be finalized yet, but it's miss epps, and i was half-way to seattle."

"ah, yes, i forgot about that... why were you heading to seattle?"

"i don't really see how that's going to get my son back, seeing as you know who took him already."

"we need to get a picture together of everyone's movements."

"i got a phone call a few days ago, my mother's in the hospital there. she wanted to see me, so i was going."

"as i understand it, you aren't close with your mother?"

"no. look, agent stahl, this isn't helping. get your ass out there and look for my son. you're the reason my brother died, i'm not interested in you being the reason my son dies too. do your fucking job." you abruptly stand up, and walk into the kitchen.

you want to throw something. you want to scream. you want to be violent and aggressive. you miss your brother. you miss your baby. you want them back. most of all, you want this nightmare to be over.

when jax tells you they're heading to ireland, you pack light, but take abel's favourite stuffed animal, a white bear with a blue hat, mitts, scarf and booties. you carry the bear with you, hugging it tightly when you worry you're about to fall apart. jax's reassuring hand on your knee, and juice's hand in yours keeps your grounded. you lose yourself a little every time you think you're going to see abel, and then are denied at the last moment.

when father ashby finally drops the bomb on you and jax; that he'd been adopted, sold to another family, you break down. father ashby tries to comfort you, but nothing he says changes anything.

"i don't care about your fucking god, i don't. i don't care about your promise to john teller. i want my fucking baby back. your cousin has caused me enough pain; by killing my fucking brother. don't make the mistake of keeping my son from me." you scream, uncaring who hears you. "i'm sure you know the saying desperate people, do desperate things. desperate doesn't even begin to cover what i am, and what i'm willing to do to get abel in my arms, and back home."

you lay in bed all day, the blanket pulled up over your head, your eyes squeezed closed, the bear tucked under your arm. you've felt sick from the moment you'd heard that abel might be gone. whisked away by some—in their defence, probably oblivious, but lovely—couple, about to be taken god knows where. the very notion, that you could go home empty handed hurts, burns, stabs at your heart. you feel like someone's cut you open, and taken a knife to your chest. poking and proding at all the parts you should never poke and prod at.

you've never felt worse in your life; physically, mentally, and emotionally. you're drained, exhausted, and contemplating ending your life. you've never felt so low. you're almost embarrassed as the idea crosses your mind, but the longer you stew, the longer it seems like a really appealing idea. incredibly selfish, but desperation is like that. you weren't sure how jax was downstairs, enjoying the night, the party, the people... how he wasn't suffocating, like you were. everthing is falling apart, collapsing around you, and he's acting like everything's a-ok.

you don't hear the bedroom door open, but you startle when you feel the bed dip behind you. fight mode activates, and you leap from the bed, eyes scanning for a weapon. then you see jax's face in the reflection of the window, your heart rate slows.

"you asshole, make some noise when you move around. i thought i was about to get murdered..." you close your eyes, hands dropping to your sides. "why are you here?"

"i'm so sorry," his voice is barely a whisper, you vaguely make out the trembling of his bottom lip, and the tears streaming down his face. "this never– never should have happened."

your expression softens, and you sink back down on the small bed. you pull jax in, his head resting on your shoulder as you hold him. you'd only ever seen him cry a few times, but that was usually how you could tell he was past his breaking point. jax always perseveres, pushing forward. you're the slightly unstable, completely unhinged one. he's the calm, rational thinker.

"i don't blame you." you tell him, "i don't even blame tara, anymore. i blame stahl. it's her fault all this shit happened. had she not shot edmund, none of this would have happened."

he nods against your shoulder, then lifts his head. the kiss is unexpected, but not unwelcome or unwanted. the sex is fantastic, it always is with jax, but it just further complicates an already complicated situation. it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened come morning when juice pops his head into the room to see how you're doing. he's hurt, but he understands to an extent. he loves abel. he loves you and by extension abel is part of you, so what's not to love? under normal circumstances, he knows this would not be an issue, but nothing about what's happening is normal.

he knows you're grieving, he knows as abel's father, jax can relate to your struggles more than anyone. what he doesn't understand, is why, even while in the midst of a divorce, the pair of you would do something like that. how despite this, he shoves his concerns aside, and closes the door, banging heavily on it to wake the pair of you. he doesn't avoid your eye, or not take your hand when you reach for his, or walk out of every room you walk into. he instead, keeps his mouth shut, and supports you. the guilt gnaws at you, and you spend the majority of the day avoiding jax, and he you (and juice).

after your night with jax, you brush your hair, actually get dressed, and spend the afternoon playing cards with juice, opie and happy, and try really hard to feel normal. it works for a few hours, until you find out that your son has been taken, again from his new adopted parents, and that they were brutally murdered in their hotel room. discovering jimmy was behind it surprises no one, but sets you into yet another tailspin. terrified of what could happen to him, terrified that jimmy would kill him if he got too annoying.

luckily, your fears never play out, because father ashby trades himself for abel. when jax walks back through the doors of the apartment you'd all been staying in, with abel in his arms you can't help the happy tears. shaky, holding your breath, hand over your mouth, you stare at your unharmed baby in jax's arms. seeing abel for the first time in what feels like an eternity is like a cold water shock to your system. when jax hands him over to you, letting you finally hold your son after weeks without him.

he smiles up at you, cooing softly, and reaching for your hair. it's like every bad, anxiety moment slips away. it doesn't matter that he was gone, all that matter's is that he's home, in your arms, surrounded by all the people who fought to bring him home, his family.

[witchthewriter]

𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

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

a/n: I made a quiz ‘Which Son Is Your Old Man’, so you can find out once and for all who you would be best suited to!

Warnings: swears, mentions of violence, smoking, drugs

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ      

𝐉𝐚𝐱 𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

・Yes, he does spend a lot of time doing club business. But it also means he’s home randomly throughout the day. 

・His speciality is making breakfast; eggs, bacon, toast, french toast, waffles etc 

・Yes, he did develop the skill from all the one night stands he’s had...

・But hey, at least now you’re the one that reaps the reward!

・Doesn’t snore in his sleep, but does toss and turn a lot 

・Sometimes he has really really bad nightmares. He doesn’t want to wake you up, so he goes and has a smoke outside

・Really loves chewing on ice cubes. When you get McDonalds, he’ll eat everyone’s ice from their drinks (obviously after their done with it)

・When you’re feeling down; physically or mentally, he’ll read to you. Jax bought you a new edition of your favourite book for your birthday and he’s so used to holding it in his hands by now. 

・Really likes when you light candles when he gets home, he prefers them over the overhead lighting 

・Doesn’t like loud sudden noises - definitely has undiagnosed PTSD. He’s gotten really good at hiding it, but some days - when he has really long showers, you know it’s a bad day 

𝐎𝐩𝐢𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧

・When he isn’t doing things for the club, he loves to work in ‘the shed’. 

・He has a lot of projects going on - making garden beds for Gemma’s events, 

・Opie usually ends up trekking dust, shredded timber and so on throughout the house. You make him have a shower as soon as he’s finished working outside. 

・But you can’t lie, he does create some beautiful things. 

・He made a dining room table - and the detailing was so amazing you nearly teared up

・Opie is great at painting as well, honestly, he’s just good at general renovations. Somehow he knows how to do stuff around the house - unclogging drains, fixing pipes, changing lightbulbs, stopping leaks etc

・Opie’s like your own handy man! 

・Secretly a cat person. Don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t mind dogs. They’re great, but cats are so unpredictable - without the risk. He finds them so interesting. 

・Loves Disney movies, especially the cartoon version of Robin Hood. You’ll find him humming the song about Robin and Little John 

・Likes that he towers of you and will put things out of your reach just to rile you up

𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐬 𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝

・Actively cleans up after himself and you. 

・Really likes a clean home, and he’s lived on his own for a long time, so he knows how to run a house

・He also grew up around a lot of women, so he knows how to cook some great meals 

・Chibs was also whipped into shape by these women, so that’s why it’s ingrained in him...

・Knows a lot of Scottish drinking songs, and he always sings them when he’s had a few too much to drink

・And his voice is actually quite lovely 

・He also sings in the shower 

・A loud gruff Scottish man singing in your shower always brightens your day 

・Automatically turns the kettle on when he gets home (and will make tea for two, knowing exactly how you like it)

・Not a lot of random visitors, he likes to keep business and his home life separate. Even though the club is his life, he likes having his own space 

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐰𝐦𝐚𝐧

・Many, many takeout and movie nights

・Especially when he’s been gone on club business

・Does the washing and folding for both your clothes. It was his main job when he lived at home too. 

・Also mows the lawn without a shirt on, so that’s...a fun sight to see (he likes showing off in front of you)

・Loves the movie Avatar; would definitely go into a deep dive of how it all works and how they created it. 

・Would die if you showed interest in it as well. You bought him a book about the characters and he spent a whole afternoon reading it

・Surprises everyone with how much he loves books 

・A man of few words, he actually has really profound things to say. Some of it can be really poetic...

・Likes having his shoulders rubbed, and in return, he massages your feet 

・Is really good at looking after you when you’re sick. He has a lot of homemade recipes; soups, oldwives tricks etc. (Except the term ‘oldwives tricks’ shouldn’t be overlooked. A lot of their 

𝐓𝐢𝐠 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫

・Rescue dogs galore 

・Tig hates seeing any animal hurt, but he has a special place in his heart for dogs

・Big fucking snorer, and is out as soon as his head hits the pillow

・Hates cooking but doesn’t mind doing the dishes - yeah he’s fucked up that way

・So you handle the food; he’ll get the groceries, but for the love of god he cannot make a proper grown up dish

・In return, he doesn’t mind doing the vaccuuming and mopping (he would so dress up in a maid’s outfit and do it)

・Whenever he wakes up in the middle of the night, he goes into the loungeroom to watch cartoons - like popeye

・Cried while watching Titanic btw

・Oh and has a stash of different types of drugs. Nothing too hardcore though. 

・He also makes you have an unregistered firearm so you can protect yourself 

・Also loves comic books. He’s a DC kinda guy...yes, his favourite character is Joker

[my-bulletz]

✶ JAX TELLER in love with a guy.

──────────────────────────────

pairing: jax teller + male reader.

warnings: vague internalized homophobia, canon typical violence, vague canon typical homophobia, vague weed talk.

jax didn't think he'd be the type of guy to — like other guys. it’s not like girls didn’t cut it for him before, that was all well and dandy, but he lately found himself staring at the way the leather from your cut shaped around your shoulders a little too long, or how the veins in your arms would pop when you drew your gun. fuck.

and at first, everything was pretty easy to ignore, even if he stared too much and went out of his way to keep his distance — he could pretend it was nothing, jax had a knack for keeping his hands busy on useless flings, and now they proved a better escape. it was a particularly vivid dream and a few stoned deliriums when he hung around the weed shop with juice that told him this wasn’t going away anytime now.

he then thought of everything that was potentially wrong about it. when he didn't have his hands on a trigger, his bike's handle, or some chick's hips — he was overthinking. starting with the fact that no one had to know; and if they did, the club would have to make an exception for him, to any and all rules he would be breaking along the way. jax didn't keep tabs on every archaic rule of the original motor clubs, but he figured having an old man as an old man would be a pretty big hole to patch over.

chibs was the first to know. jax couldn't bring himself to tell opie about it — he didn't know how to feel about it himself, he didn't want to see opie not knowing too. and chibs noticed everything, down to how jax's jaw would tense at any and all comment that he would have found funny before, how he'd leave the bar too quickly, and not hang around the crow-eaters as much as he used to, almost as if he, out of all people, couldn't keep his hands fixed to known, soft curves. not when he closed his eyes and all he saw was sharp edges and rough knuckles.

the talk the two had about it had been awkward and oddly comforting, filled with curses. their backs to the wall and a cig between their fingers. it went something like: “so, the new patch.” “... yeah.” and after a moment of silence and a tightly stiff hug, chibs breathed out, “yer’ an idiot, jackie boy.”

when it blew up for the both of you, it happened in between dirt and beer, blinded by street lights. it had been a stupid brawl; a show to put on during a party of the mc, that grew too personal — especially when his breath hitched when you took off your shirt to go up against him in the makeshift rink. and maybe, he didn't know how to deal with being irrevocably smitten with someone so eager to punch his teeth out.

frustration and confusion about his feelings quickly soured into panting anger and balled up fists. he also remembers flashes of flushes and heat waves striking his skin where pavement sanded his back, it felt kind to be punched, as long as it was you.

not that he'd ever admit that.

even when he found you later in the bathroom, bleeding by his doing and running water over your knuckles, the wraps hanging off the sink, he came to you like a storm, frowning and seething, kissing the blood off your lips, hard enough he might've broke something else, he pulled away just as so, daring you. everything a challenge with jax.

that too faded away; into yearning and sickeningly sticky grudges that tasted too much like honey, you two didn' talk about the pushing towards greedy encounters in grimy bathrooms, not for a long while. his bike to yours even when he missed having you in his hands, he knew that if it was known and went south, both of you'd get shunned and blacked out, and even if the club looked past it, the other charters just wouldn't have it. so bathrooms it was.

he'd call you his boyfriend — not only in the dark — smell a whiff of gunpowder and call that home, if he could.

he wants to, just not now. and it hurts, and the knife twists, because they don't teach you what to do when everyone looks out for their old ladies, but you have to watch bullets grazing the man you love everyday, having to shoot too.

only when you strapped a bulletproof vest alongside your chest, cocked your gun and prepped yourself for a meeting made to go awry, only then he felt the very palpable fear of losing someone he didn't have the chance to claim as his.

everyone's family locked tight and safe in the clubhouse. before anyone took off on their bikes, jax kissed you briefly, it felt like a shot in on itself, his hands on each side of your face, holding you like water. “see you later.” his voice a lot like an order, even when his thumb ran alongside your jaw — not even trying to be soft, he didn't know how with you. before you had a chance to react and do something other than lick your lips, jax was already hopping on his bike before anyone else could, racing off, with all of the member's eyes on him, and you.

well, that would be a conversation to be had when they all came back.

[swiss-mrs]

I'm gonna cry this is so beautiful omfg

hi my sweet baby suse :') love you sm n'just wanna know your thoughts when it comes to sitting on jax's lap <3 would he pet your hair? call you sweet little pet names? just wonderin' <3

anything for you clo, my pretty girl ! 🫶🏻

this became super long-winded, i just think he's neat :')

cw: jealousy, slight! innocence kink, potential 'opie yearning for reader' moment (who's shocked?) slightly nsfw

personally, i think jax is constantly pulling his girl into his lap. whether it's because tig is getting a little too friendly, or you've been talking (gazing) at opie for a tiny bit longer than he'd like, it's like you make a movement & you're in his lap. he's very "hey, where you goin' sweetheart, hm?" all teasing and smug and smiley, pulling you by the wrist to sit on him.

while jax loves having you in his lap to see you get all blushy and shy "c'mon darlin' they all know you love sittin' on me" (never letting the opportunity for innuendo pass him by,) he also loves the sense of pride that he gets from having a pretty, sweet thing like you perched in his lap. while jax is all leather and dirty t-shirts and baggy jeans, you're sweet pastels and soft fabrics— the warmth that jax is slowly starting to feel in his heart again.

and he'll take any form of lap sitting, by the way. if you're sitting directly on him, after you deliver some comment about jax bein the "comfiest, cleanest chair here!" he'll laugh, and wrap his big arms around your tummy, his face in your hair, whispering dirty jokes and funny comments about juice and chibs in your ear.

and if you're sitting sideways? legs spread across his lap and dangling over his thighs? his hands never leave them. one hand protectively holds your ankle, fingers lightly fiddling with the cold "J" anklet he bought just for you. his other hand slides up and down your leg, pausing to lay his palm flat on your knee, or to slide his extended hand up the sides of your thigh. and jax knows nooo personal space with you, by the way. so you two are face to face as he talks, his strong nose brushing against yours, and when he leans over to tell you a secret, his beard brushes against your cheek. eventually, his hand starts to slide up the center of your thighs, and his lips get a little too close to the sweetest spot on your neck, and he notices opie looking at the smooth skin of your face too long, and suddenly he can't help himself. nights like those usually end with you happily skipping behind jax as he leads you to his clubhouse room, trying to supress a smile at your obvious affection and excitement for him.

that being said, jax is a veerrrryy jealous person, so whenever he senses a prospect gettin' a little too close for his liking, he'll give you the look and you'll know where to go. of course, jax never tells you exactly why he'll suddenly stop your conversation with happy and ask you to come (essentially) straddle him in the clubhouse— he never wants you to know the true, horribly corrupt fantasies of the other male bikers.

so he'll take you in his lap, hooking your arms over his shoulders and pulling you together; chest to chest, him pressing against your panties in a comforting way. jax will pull the hem of your dress down and hold it still (he saw them trying to take a peek, and if he's being honest it took everything in him not to flip the pool table and start screaming) and start the sweetest little whispers in your bejeweled ear "my sweet girl, you know how pretty you are, hm? you know everybody here wants you? but they can't have you right? can they?"

and like clockwork, this same song and dance you get into everytime there's a meeting, you nod happily. and jax'll smile, a nice, wide, shit-eating grin aimed just as much at you as it is at the other samcro members looking onward; always yearning for a girl like you— loving, loyal, only having eyes for the blondie they all yearn to be.

his hand will move to your hair, softly running his fingers through it, soft applogies leaving his lips as your hair gets tangled in his rings, and he'll always kiss the corners of your lips to make up for it. he'll press your head to his chest, a big, protective hand sprawling across the back of your hair, holdin' you to him "just rest your eyes a little darlin', i gotta talk to the guys abit, kay?"

oh and he will. his hands running up and down your back and hair, in lulls of the conversation he'll kiss your cheek and ask quietly "still with me, babe?" and wait for your comfortable purr of "mmhmm" and continue on with the conversation. and he knows no one will ever say anything, they wouldn't dare. you're his little "doe in the headlights" and beyond jax's admittance, he needs to feel you in his hands just to get through the fear that he battles with everyday— the fear of disappointing the club, trampling his father's legacy, losing you. the thought makes him tighten his grip on you, hugging you like a child hugs their teddy bear, and the pressure, the sheer weight of his love is so fulfilling, you'll happily flirt with juice if it means it'll always end with jax holding you like this.

[persephone411]

Jax Teller NSFW Headcanons part 2

My Masterlist

Part 1

-Although he won’t admit he it, he likes it if you call him daddy (especially later seasons Jax)

-I feel like he also has a size kink. He loves how big he looks in comparison to you and bow easily he can cup your breasts or Butt

-He pretends that he doesn’t really care for lingerie since he rips them nearly everytime

-But secretly he loves the feminine, lacy panties you wear (especially the light pink ones)

-And that one time you wore a tiny red bikini ? he nearly lost it

-he is also a huge fan of sundresses and the easy access they provide

-He has as bit of a breeding kink

-His dirty talk is generally good, but when he talks about pumping you full and claiming you in the most animalistic way it’s on another level

-He will purr like a cat if you scratch/massage his head after sex and actually loves cuddling

-Jax loves to wake you up with his head between your thighs. He lives for the way you squirm and moan sleepily before opening your eyes.

[hotdamnhunnam]

Alright. What do you think Jax favorite sex position is? In the show we mostly saw missionary but I refuse to believe that he is „boring“ 😂🫢😏

Okay okay okayyy so HEAR ME OUT on this lol but I actually think missionary IS his favorite!!! 😂

Not because he’s boring or vanilla as we all know he’s the opposite, an infinitely kinky piece of shit — rather because he makes missionary his bitch and damn does he know how to savor it 😈

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

I mean, let’s imagine the scene:

Jax loves the way he gets to witness every perfect look of pleasure on your face … to suck the moans out of your mouth ‘cause fuck he gets off on how sweet your slutty desperation tastes …

… to feel your tits so closely pressed against the muscles of his chest … so close he even feels the pounding of your heart in sync with his and knowing that it beats for him alone is just the fucking best …

… to wrap his hand around your throat and make you gasp for breath, each kiss he claims off of your lips a holy prayer and the only air you need because you love this man to death …

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

So yeah I think he really digs being on top of you, and making sure that every inch of you gets crushed beneath the full weight of the body and the soul of the sex god who fucking loves you!! ❣️

He’d also love spitting repeatedly into your filthy greedy little mouth if that’s something you’d want him to do 💦🤤

With all that said I do think Jax has some close second/third/fourth fave positions too:

Up against the wall, like when he comes home from a long hard day and has no fucking patience to get to the bedroom at all

Doggy while yanking your hair back and spanking your ass because although he is a god he is also a raging primal animal

Cowgirl because he loves that view of you and because he is an asshole who gets off on topping from the bottom to prove to you that he will always be in full fucking control

Thank you for the ask ahhhh this was so much fun to answer lol 😋💖

[justanoasisimagines]

Protective Headcanons

Hey lovelies, my requests are open and my guidlines can be found pinned at the top of the page! Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!

❀Jax knows from the moment he brings you into his world you're life's at risk. It's why Jax is considering doing it in the first place. ❀Jax teaches you how to protect yourself, if he's not there he wants you to know how to fight. ❀Jax insists there are weapons in your house. Baseball bats, guns, knives, Jax strategically places them around your house in case anyone were to surprise you. ❀Jax makes sure you have Gemma's number. He wants you to have her numbers in case of an emergency. ❀He asks Gemma to check up on you whenever he's away. He worries about you. Also Gemma's accustomed to situations in which her life could be in danger. ❀Jax making sure you're home has the best security system possible. He wants you to feel safe and secure when you're alone. ❀If Jax is in any doubt. he'll make you stay at the clubhouse. It's a safe place and he knows the club will look out for you.

❀Jax buying you a motorcycle helmet. So you can ride his motorcycle safely.

❀Jax is ready to drop everything to protect you. He'll always put things aside. Jax would fight to the death to protect you. You're one of the most important people in his life.

[bellaxgiornata]

I can throw out a few of the ones that live rent free in my head:

When things aren't crazy busy and stressful with the club, he'd totally make pancakes for Abel and Thomas on the weekends for breakfast. He sure as shit wouldn't wake up early to do it, but there would absolutely be mornings that he would cook. Especially as a sort of 'thank you' gesture to his partner for taking on the brunt of things at home and with the boys, too.

Completely agree on the camping trips, but I imagine he's never gone camping before and that he would have no idea what the hell he was doing at first. He'd be cussing out the tent as he tried to assemble it with a cigarette dangling between his lips and his hair a damn mess from running his hands through it in frustration. But sitting around a fire drinking beer at night in a peaceful setting? He'd be about that. I could totally see him having fun roasting marshmallows with his boys, too (and intentionally catching them on fire).

The man is accustomed to shitty, pre-ground coffee and he lives on it. He'd tease you relentlessly for buying 'fancy coffee' beans at the store, but once his shitty coffee ran out and he had nothing else to use, he'd actually pause and have a moment of realizing how much better coffee can taste. But he'd rather take a bullet than ever admit it to you.

He's a cuddler. We see it on the show a bit, but I believe he's like a full on koala when he's not stressed out. Watching television and he's home? You're both laid out on the couch under a blanket. In bed at night? He'll start off cuddling you, probably break away at some point in his sleep, but then you'll wake up with him spooning you. And if he's not in a rush to go somewhere in the morning? He's not going to want to let you get out of bed (which would lead to less wholesome things).

His mind would go blank if you gave him beard scratches. He's already so goddamn touch-starved, but for some reason something so innocent and sweet as running your fingers through his beard would have him looking look a dog getting scratched behind the ears. But you would be the only one he'd ever let know just how much he loved it.

I wanna know your inconsequential/wholesome Jax headcanons,, ‘cause I fully believe that man would enjoy camping trips and I have nobody to talk to about it

[ravennaortiz]

Your Boyfriend is a Bitch headcanon SOA version

Summary: How the guys would react if they overheard some guy hitting on you and telling that your boyfriend is a bitch. Inspiration came from the song below.

Tag List: @keyweegirlie @hatersaremymotivators @meera10 @youngadult9016 @littlefrogbrain

Our sweet Juice is amused at first that goofy grin plastered on his face as he sips his beer. He figures it was obvious that you are with him since the guy literally stepped in between you two as you guys were sitting and talking at the clubhouses bar. Guy must just be to caught up in how beautiful his Old Lady is. Then he hears the guy tell you that your boyfriend is a bitch and he could take him. "Alright buddy" laughs Juice that goofy grin slipping into a tight smile as he grabs his shoulder. Slipping off the stool he steers the guy out the door. "Be back in a bit babe" he calls over his shoulder to you.

"Surprise surprise he couldn't take me. Guess you are stuck with me" states Juice smugly as he rejoins you giving you a kiss on the forehead.

Chibs has grown used to the "youngins" hitting on you and such. He used to be quick to swing but your calming nature had him using patience and words a little more often now than his fist. This time though he puts the young man through one of the tables. It's hard to say whose more shocked between the three of you. "Think you can do her better Laddie?" Chibs chuckles darkly as he shakes his head at the trembling man under him. "Why don't you join me and my Ole Lady here in the bedroom. One of us can learn some pointers".

Happy turned away from the pool table when he heard the new prospects response to your decline of a date. Your wide eyed expression, tight smile and nervous chuckle when his eyes met yours told him he had in fact heard the idiot correctly. It was nothing to the prospects expression as he turned to see who you were looking at. Happy simply rolled his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other for a moment before speaking. "I'm her bitch boyfriend.

Jax is swinging fists before the guy knows what is happening. He demands the guy to answer him between every hard blow. "Think I'm still a bitch?" Are you blind? Couldn't see her crow? The ring?" "Did you miss my arm around her waist?". Jax only relents when Chibs and Opie pull him off the guy. Without another word he pulls you to the dorm hallway to relieve some more of his anger in a more enjoyable way.

Half-Sack is quick to be in the guys face. Newly patched he feels he has a lot to prove still. He makes it clear he doesn't need a gun to win a fight. Which does not last long and leaves the guy hitting on you knocked out and being dragged out of the clubhouse by Happy.

At first Tig thinks you and Kozik are playing a joke on him when you two tell him what happened inside while you were getting a drink. The two of you loved to rile him up and play jokes on him. He also can't wrap his mind around who in their right mind would tell his gorgeous, pregnant wife that she could do better and they could do her better. Especially not after you two had been together for ten years. The tears that start to well up though have him up on his feet and inside, dragging the man out by his kutte. Once he gets your nod of confirmation he pulls him toward the ring.

Opie while usually level headed and one to think things through before reacting. Can't help but to punch the guy in his face before he can even get his sentence out. While he agrees with the guy that you can in fact do better than an outlaw biker, no one else gets to say it.

Kozik would have let it slide. Being called a bitch and stuff did not bother him. What bothered him was how uncomfortable you got and how the guy would not back off. The quiet whisper of his government name from your lips had him grabbing the offending guy into a chokehold and yanking him out of the clubhouse to teach him a lesson on respect.

Rat had his teeth gritted as he served drinks from behind the bar. Still being a prospect he was limited on what he could do to a patched member, let alone the VP of another visiting charter. "You have my permission to handle that" stated Jax as he came around the bar, having heard what was happening. Rat nodded his head in appreciation before yanking the guy over the bar top. There were perks to dating the sister of the mother charters President.

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[imagineredwood]

Group HC - The Boys reactions to getting caught stealing your panties 👙

I know. I know. It’s terrible and gross and icky I KNOW 😭😭 but I saw HCs for another shows characters around this idea and I couldn’t get it out of my head and it triggered the memory that this is actually canon for Juice and…yeah. Here we are 🧍🏻‍♀️

He’s not sorry. Or embarrassed. He loves you, loves everything about you. He thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread. He worships you and the ground beneath your feet. So why wouldn’t he steal your panties? They’re yours, and they rest against his most favorite part of you all day 🤷🏻‍♀️ He won’t apologize, not even when your face heats up and you cover it with both hands. On the contrary, he probably makes a show of taking one out of the secret pile and sniffing it. He’s nasty, and he knows regardless of how you feel about it, you know he does it out of love and devotion. So he’s ok with it. And he’s not gonna stop.

He’s ashamed. He knew he shouldn’t have done it. Felt weird and invasive, but he couldn’t help it. He just loves you so much, and he gets lonely when you’re apart, and it smells like you. What else was he supposed to do? He would never cheat, would never even dream of it. But the stress of the club gets to him, especially the more complicated things get, he just needs comfort and relief, and when he saw them laying there in the hamper, he snagged it without thinking. Then he couldn’t stop, even when he knew he should. Even goes as far as offering to take apart the washer saying that maybe the machine is eating them 👀 He apologizes, cheeks tinted red, eyes downcast and hopes you don’t hold it against him. He’ll ask before he takes them next time, scouts honor.

Like Angel, he’s not embarrassed. He just shrugs, telling you that you’re his girl and your pussy is his, so why can’t he just take them? 🙄 He buys you new pairs every now and then anyway. So he wants to smell you randomly throughout the day, whats the harm in that? He just misses you. And likes to look at the pair and reminisce about times he’s taken them off of you. Is that a crime? He even reaches into his kutte and pulls out the pair that he’s kept on him today to show that it’s no big deal, and they’re the ones from yesterday, you recognize.

He’s bashful, arguably, but not necessarily embarrassed. It’s more about getting caught than it is the actual act. Like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. He’s not sorry for taking them, he’s just sorry that it’s kinda awkward for you to find the stash. He laughs awkwardly, shrugging it off or trying to anyway. Explains that he just rarely gets time to himself, so he is uses them when he’s alone in Templo to get his mind right. That your scent calms him and helps his focus. He didn’t think you’d mind too much, he just also never expected you to find out.

He's not sorry in the slightest and he makes sure you know it too. He bought every pair anyway, what's the issue? He could buy you 30 pairs by lunch 🙄 He wasn't up from about it, no, but he also didn't necessarily hide it. It just wasn't entirely in the open. You're respectful and don't go through his stuff in his office so how would you have known he had an entire drawer of his desk with them all collected in there? You'll get over it, a few new lingerie sets will make sure of that.

The OG of panty stealing and sniffing himself. It’s canon after all. He just can’t help himself. You’re his moon and stars and he just can’t get enough of you. Even when you’re perched in his lap, cockwarming him, face nuzzled in the crook of his neck, it’s not enough. He needs to be in your skin. But he can’t. So stealing your panties is the next best thing. It’s a compulsion he can’t fight. God knows he’s tried. And he tells you as much. Lists all of the things he did first to try and not have to submit to that desire. But in the end it didn’t matter. He just needs to have your most intimate article with him at all times. Keeps He doesn’t want you to think he’s a freak but he also just need you to know how much he absolutely loves, adores, and worships you. He’ll even hand over the pair in his pocket if you ask him to.

He's nonchalant about it. It's just panties. You have a bunch more. Not like you were gonna miss them or something. He just loves you and likes to have something of yours that he can keep nearby when he misses you. One in his pocket, one in the sale bag of his bike tucked away hidden. His stash is dispersed, not because he was necessarily hiding them, but because there's one each place that will serve a purpose.

Also not embarrassed. Hits you with that famous smirk, his shoulders shrugging as you stare at him waiting for an answer. "Just miss you sometimes, Darlin'. Just somethin' to get me by." Like it's perfectly normal. He left you your favorite pairs after all. He only takes the ones you're not the biggest fan of, so you wouldn't notice as quickly. It's not a big deal, he can give them back. Sometimes he just needs to sit in the chapel with them over his face while he strokes himself before Church so he can make sure he has a level head before this important vote.

General taglist

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Mayans MC taglist

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[brunettemarionette]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞

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

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

𝗝𝗮𝘅 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Jax wakes up immediately when he hears you cry out, his protective instincts kicking in. He gently shakes you awake, his voice soft but firm. “Hey, babe, it’s just a dream. I’ve got you.”

He pulls you into his arms, tucking your head against his chest as he strokes your hair. He whispers reassurances, letting you hear his steady heartbeat to calm you.

If you’re still shaky, he’ll sit up with you, lighting a cigarette and holding your hand while he talks about anything to distract you from the nightmare. His presence is warm and grounding, and he won’t leave your side until you fall asleep again.

𝗖𝗵𝗶𝗯𝘀 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Chibs reacts calmly, and his experience with danger helps him keep a level head. When he wakes to your cries, he softly calls your name, cupping your face in his hands. “It’s alright, lass. I’m here. Whatever it was, it’s gone now.”

He kisses your forehead and wraps you in a snug embrace, rocking you slightly to soothe your nerves. His Scottish brogue is a constant comfort as he murmurs sweet nothings and cracks a gentle joke to lighten the mood.

If you want to talk about the dream, he listens intently, offering his wisdom and reassurance.

𝗧𝗶𝗴  ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Tig wakes up startled, his eyes darting around the room like he’s expecting a threat. Once he realizes it’s just a nightmare, he turns all his attention to you. “Damn, doll, you scared the hell outta me. Come here.”

He pulls you close, wrapping you up in his arms. He might tease you a little to make you laugh, but it’s always affectionate. “What’s this nightmare got on my crazy ass, huh?” His voice softens as he kisses your temple and strokes your back, humming a tune or telling you one of his wild stories to distract you.

He stays awake as long as you need him to, rubbing your back until you feel safe enough to fall asleep again.

𝗢𝗽𝗶𝗲 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Opie’s a light sleeper, so he’s already awake the moment you stir. When he hears you crying or screaming, he gently shakes your shoulder, his deep voice soothing. Hey, I’m right here. You’re safe.”

He holds you close, his large hands stroking your back as he lets you cry into his chest if you need to. He doesn’t push you to talk but lets you know he’s ready to listen if you want to share.

His presence is solid and steady, like a rock in a storm. He might hum a soft tune or tell you about a memory that makes him smile just to pull you out of the dark headspace. He won’t let go of you until you’re peacefully asleep again.

𝗛𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Happy wakes up instantly, his instincts on high alert, his hand reaching for a weapon when he realizes you’re having a nightmare; he doesn’t say much at first, just gently shaking you awake and pulling you into his chest.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He holds you close, his hands running soothing patterns along your back. His silence is comforting, letting his steady presence speak louder than words.

If you’re still trembling, he’ll sit up with you and offer to make you a drink or wrap you in his hoodie to make you feel safe. He doesn’t push for details, but he’ll reassure you as many times as you need.

𝗝𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗲 ☾‧₊˚ ⋅

Juice wakes up in a panic when he hears you screaming, fumbling to turn on the light. “Babe! Are you okay? What happened?”

Once he realizes it was a nightmare, he calms down and pulls you into his lap, cradling you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. He strokes your hair and kisses the top of your head, his voice soft and full of concern. “Whatever it was, it’s gone. Won’t let anything hurt you.”

Juice will stay up with you, offering to watch something funny or play soft music to distract you. He’s incredibly attentive, making sure you feel loved and safe until you can drift off again.

[pileofboneswrites]

NOTES — some stories may contain mature themes such as violence, bullying, murder, death, abuse, strong language and some other topics. please always read the warnings listed before the story just incase of triggering topic discussion. you are responsible for your media consumption, if you don’t like it feel free to leave. 

* if you feel a warning needs to be added, please inform me!

GOLDEN TRIO ERA MASTERLIST

i write for; mattheo, theo, enzo, pansy, fred, & george

HOGWARTS LEGACY MASTERLIST

i write for; sebastian, ominis, & poppy

SONS OF ANARCHY MASTERLIST

i write for; jax, juice, & happy

STRANGER THINGS MASTERLIST

i write for; eddie, steve & robin

YELLOWSTONE MASTERLIST

i write for; lee, ryan, colby & rip

RIVERDALE MASTERLIST

i write for; sweetpea, toni

other places you can find me;

(if you're interested)

wattpad – pileofboneswrites

writergram - pileofboneswrites

fic archive tumblr – @bonesficarchive

shifting blog - @bonesagainstthemultiverse

[witchthewriter]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞

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

a/n: all are sfw except for Tig’s, so minors ... don’t read Mr Trager’s part. Oh and swears

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ    

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿    

𝐉𝐚𝐱

・He loves dates outside. It doesn’t even have to be on the bike. You can take the car and he’ll have one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh

・You never know when or where you’re going to stop. But it’s usually somewhere with a huge tree

・There’s a picnic blanket in the back, and when there isn’t, Jax lays out his jacket for you to sit down on 

・Jax always automatically lays his head in your lap and closes his eyes (but not before winking at you) 

・He isn’t falling asleep, only taking in the sun’s warmth and the softness of your thighs, basking in the feeling of contentedness 

・His ideal date is literally just spending time with you. Talking, not talking, joking around, delving deep... he just loves your personality. There’s no topic too outrageous or off-limits

・Jax would have your favourite drink; alcohol, energy drink, soda etc whatever you like. Alternatively, he would go through the drive through so that you can munch down together and look completely unattractive while tomato sauce drips down your chins 

・He doesn’t like restaurants because people are very judgemental, and he isn’t going to take off his cutte for anyone 

𝐎𝐩𝐢𝐞

・Didn’t really think about actual dates... you guys kinda just ... got into a relationship. 

・He didn’t need to woo you, he just knew who you were and wanted you

・It was the same with you; you knew Opie and wanted him. No frills, no dancing around the subject. 

・You were both very straightforward 

・But after being in a relationship for 6 months, you saw the other Sons’ relationships and brought it up with Opie - curiosity with how he would plan a date 

・He was a bit taken aback because he loves doing the mundane things with you; grocery shopping, bathing together, watching tv 

・But then he found this place, ax-throwing, and you were both so excited to go

・It ended up being one of your new favourite hobbies 

・And then the place had a separate section with a smashing section and GOD you two were there for hours

・It’s a weekly thing now 

・Even if the week hasn’t been too heavy, you still both want to go and let off some steam. Whether it’s because of something small ... or not 

𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐬

・Has dated a few women in his lifetime, but never loved one as much as Fiona. Until he met you. 

・You drew him in and he’s been loyal ever since; even on the road, with the crow-eaters, he’s never looked at anyone but you. 

・It may come as a surprise but Chibs is quite romantic. 

・Flowers, buying your favourite food, jewellery etc

・He knows that although it’s traditional, you still enjoy it. (And it’s not just roses and heart necklaces. He knows your favourite flowers and your taste in jewellery)

・You loved how he showered you with gifts, but you wanted to do something together 

・And that’s when you showed him brewery tours. 

・At first he didn’t like it (not a wine fan), but then you found one that was based on whiskey, rum - brown liquor, and he adored it 

・So basically his ideal date it getting drunk together?

・He also enjoyed going to a pub with you; it had the feeling of Scotland and Chibs was so excited to show you the similarities:

     “And that righ’ there sweetheart, all those pictures; they have ‘em in every pub back in Scotland-” 

𝐓𝐢𝐠 (NSFW! 18+!)

・Despises anything formal

・He doesn’t like the feeling of not being good enough to be in fancy places

・Plus, he just doesn’t think it’s “his style” 

・So a lot of your dates are spontaneous and always start on his bike (and ugh ... end in his bed) 

・Very sexual and cannot keep his hands off of you. Having alone time together is sparse since being apart of the club takes up most of his time

・Every night he gets to spend at home means a night full of love mak- okay it’s full of fucking. 

・Drive-ins are another of his favourite though

・When he was younger, he used to go when his home life got too rough. Some place to escape, and it was easier to sneak in than a movie theatre

・That’s where he likes to take you when you’v had a rough day. But he also has an extensive movie range. So when you can’t be bothered to go out, you just stay at home, snuggle up and have a movie marathon 

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲

・Something low-key but sentimental 

・Happy doesn’t have a lot of money, but it doesn’t stop him from creating a romantic atmosphere. 

・He’s one of the more emotionally charged Sons

・Not afraid to show his affection and love for you

・Happy first arrives by bike out the front with a bouquet of (stolen) flowers, a helmet for you and a backpack with drinks and food. 

・He takes you to ‘the look out’. It’s on the outskirts of Charming that overlooks the woods and houses below 

・He has a blanket, gives you his jacket and asks about your day while setting everything up

・You know he cares he’s put a lot of thought into it 

・Maybe it isn’t a fancy restaurant, and the food isn’t 5 stars, but you know that he put a lot of effort into it 

・On special occassions like being together for a certain amount of months/years. Happy will take on extra work/shifts so he can saved up a bit of money and take you somewhere fancy

・Not just a nice restaurant, but a hotel for a few nights. 

・When you enter the hotel room, he runs the bath for the two of you. Afterwards you order room service and have it sitting in bed, white robes on, watching a rom com (he lets you choose from ‘This Means War,’ ‘Mr & Mrs Smith’, ‘Pride & Prejudice’ or ‘Leap Year’)

𝐉𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐞

・A lot of thought is put into his dates. More so than the others

・You are the light of his life, and contrary to the others, you’re more important that the club

・So his ideal date foremost, is uninterrupted by a call from Clay

・With you and him taking a trip somewhere out of Charming, possibly near a beach or somewhere exotic

・See, Juice can be very romantic, once he gets over his nervousness around you (it took a year into your relationship for him not to stumble over his words. You thought he had a stutter, but it was because he’s so anxious about you leaving him)

・He packs everything; orderly and neatly. 

・Not forgetting anything of importance. If you take medication, than he has extra just in case, obviously extra pairs up underwear, because Juice too does that thing (you know what I’m talking about)

・Oh, and he wants everything to be a surprise. So he makes sure that your work has given you time off 

・And he has at least three of your favourite things; a book, a figet toy, a puzzle, a gameboy, whatever it is - he has it all ready for you while you’re waiting for your plane 

・Gives you the window seat, has ear plugs for you when you take off and land because of the pressure 

・If you’re a nervous flyer than he never leaves your side, holds your hand the entire time and 

[my-bulletz]

[bellaxgiornata]

Because I've been sick almost nonstop since September, I decided to make headcanons this morning for all of our men about when they're sick that absolutely nobody asked for. So below the cut are some of my thoughts on how Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Jax Teller, and Michael Kinsella would act/react to feeling under the weather and being taken care of.

Matt Murdock

Matt would never admit to being sick when he first started coming down with something. Doesn't matter how many times you called him out on it, he would play it off like he's just fine. "Sweetheart, you know I don't get sick."

Despite your protests, he'd still throw on the Devil suit and go out at night running around on the rooftops trying to keep Hell's Kitchen safe, even if he's got a runny nose and the beginning of a sore throat - and his Devil voice would be even more painful to put on because of that.

But in the morning when Matt woke up, he'd be a miserable mess. He would become a full on baby Capuchin monkey, wrapping himself around you in bed in search of comfort almost immediately. And when he'd hear you open your mouth to tell him "I told you so," he'd stop you with his nasally, "Don't even say it, sweetheart" before he buried his face against your neck and groaned in agony.

And he would be in agony because of his heightened senses, but he'd also be a bit disoriented when he really came down with something. The illness symptoms would mess with him - head/sinus congestion would throw off his sense of smell, taste, and hearing, all things he's used to using in order to navigate the world around him. On top of all of that, sore throats would feel like he was genuinely swallowing glass, and while he's already used to his whole body constantly being in pain from what he puts it through, the whole body ache from illness would just be another thing to make him desperate for comfort.

Matt is so used to no one caring for him since he's always the one looking out for the whole of Hell's Kitchen, that you'd most likely see a few genuine tears shed as you brought him glasses of water and medicine throughout the day (that he would make the most ridiculous faces at the flavor of). And you'd be subjected to repeated thank you's murmured against your skin because he'd be clinging to you wherever you went in the apartment for the duration of his illness.

Frank Castle

It would always be difficult to tell when Frank was coming down with something because the man would never admit to it. He'd still be waking up at the ass crack of dawn making a pot of coffee and going about his day like usual without giving a single thing away that let you know that he wasn't feeling good. So you'd have to learn the signs yourself - extra tissues suddenly filling the garbage, the sight of him wearing hoodies around the house when you know he already runs hot, showers that last just a few minutes longer than usual as if he was using the steam to clear up his congestion.

He'd deny it vehemently if you called him out on coming down with something, getting a deep furrow between his brows and that particular tone to his voice that always gave him away because it was just too sharp. "I'm not goddamn sick, honey. Stop fussin' over me, would ya?"

And he absolutely would hate it if you fussed over him. Trying to get him to take some medicine? "Don't need that shit. Told you I'm fine, alright?" Trying to take his temperature? You'd have to fight him to put the damn thing in his mouth for at least five minutes first and he'd be grumbling the whole time (and you'd have to keep reminding him to keep his mouth shut so you could get an accurate reading). Telling him to stay in bed or on the couch to rest for the day? You'd catch him out of the corner of your eye carrying a tool box through the house and have to do a double take and tell him to go sit down. "Tired of sitting down, doll, I've been doing it all damn day! "It's been twenty minutes, Frank! GO LAY BACK DOWN!" Bringing him tea with some honey and lemon in it to soothe his throat? "The hell is this shit? You know I only drink black coffee."

Frank is used to just powering through illness because of his time in the marines. His mentality is that he's got a job to do and he's going to do it, he doesn't want to sit around all day taking medicine and sleeping, he wants to be up and taking care of you and things around the house and something so small like being sick isn't going to stop him from doing exactly that.

Jax Teller

Even sick with a cold, Jax would still be stubborn as hell. He'd wake up in the morning and roll out of bed before hopping in the shower with every intention of going to the clubhouse to deal with business for the day like nothing was wrong. Except he'd be moving slower than normal and communicating in strictly grunts and grumbles instead of his usual "Mornin', baby" sleepily and affectionately muttered against the back of your neck which you usually always either heard in bed as he's spooning you when you woke, while you're making the morning coffee in the kitchen, or as you're getting dressed for the day.

The only way you'd get Jax to stay home, take care of himself, and relax would be to out-logic him. "You know I gotta go in, darlin'. The guys need me, I've got shit to run. Can't just take a goddamn sick day, SAMCRO ain't like that." "And what happens when all of the patched members get sick, hmm? Or when all the girls at Diosa or Redwoody get sick and they can't film or fuck? Then what, Jackson? Chibs and Bobby can handle things today."

Jax would absolutely hate having to make the call to tell the guys he was taking a day at home because he's sick. He'd be sitting out on the back porch talking on the phone with a cigarette in his hand, rolling his eyes in irritation as they called him a pussy. But instead of some insult in return, you'd overhear him snap back with "Gotta problem with it? Then I'd like to see you take it up with my ol' lady, brother." And you'd know damn well that would have the guys quieting down because they knew better than to mess with you when it came to Jax's wellbeing.

Despite the fight he'd put up in the morning, Jax would actually love a whole day sitting around at home with you fussing over him. He'd be sprawled out on the couch with a lazy little grin on his lips as you brought him glasses of water, medicine, and soup all day. He'd chuckle warmly and always give you a "I'm fine, darlin', really," but deep down he'd be so goddamned pleased to have your constant attention. And he'd find any excuse to grab you and force you down on the couch to cuddle with him, sighing softly when your fingers gently carded through his hair as he held you close. But you can damn well bet that even sick, he wouldn't miss the opportunity to slide his hand down to palm you over your pants at some point, chuckling when you shot out a "You're sick, Jackson!" and responding with "Never too sick for that, baby."

Michael Kinsella

Michael would be the literal suffer in silence type. You'd know he was sick - he wouldn't deny it if you asked because he'd never lie to you - but he also wouldn't ask for any help. He'd still get up and try to do the laundry and dishes even when you tried to shoo him away to his bed. "M'fine, pet. Don't wanna leave ya to do everythin' fer me 'cause I'm comin' down with somethin'. S'no big deal, really."

He's not used to having someone wanting to fuss over him and care for him because no one in his family ever really has besides Birdy. Trying to take his temperature, bringing him soup that you made, and making sure he's taking medicine around the clock would have him feeling awkward, which would result in him always trying to brush you away because he feels like he's just adding to your list of chores for the day. And if there's anything Michael would hate, it's feeling like he's a burden, so you'd have to repeatedly reassure him that caring for him when he's sick is normal.

Michael would try to avoid you throughout the day as much as possible because he'd be worried about getting you sick, so much so that it would drive you nuts. "Sofa is fine, love. Don't wanna get my germs in the bedroom sleepin' in there." "Shouldn't be tryin' to kiss me, pet. Don't want ya catchin' what I have." "Ya shouldn't be sittin' out here with me watchin' television. I'd feel like shite if ya got sick 'cause of me, pet."

The Kinsellas would still be calling him while he was trying to rest at home and every time you heard the phone ring, you'd feel compelled to pull it out of his hands and tell them to leave him alone for the day. Because you know even sick, Michael would pull himself together to go help with whatever was asked of him for his family. But you would delight in telling them off for his sake - especially if it was Amanda.