#Charlie Hunnam imagine

[vinnieswife]

Patching him after a fight.

Pete Dunham x reader

words: 680

author’s note: How much I love this prompt omg!

It’s well past midnight when you hear the familiar sound of heavy boots on the stairs, slow, deliberate, like each step costs him something. You’re already waiting by the door, nerves twisting in your chest, a first-aid kit sitting on the small kitchen table of his apartment.

When the soft knock finally comes, you’re quick to put your hand on the doorknob, unlocking the door and pulling it open.

Pete stands in the dimly lit hallway, looking exactly how you feared he might, his face bruised, blood trickling from a split lip, and his knuckles torn and raw. His favorite jacket hangs loose from one shoulder, stained with dirt and some blood r.

“Hey, love,” he says with a faint, lopsided grin, trying to play it cool like always. His voice is rough, worn from shouting or maybe just exhaustion after the fight. You can’t help but sigh, both relieved and frustrated. “Jesus Christ, Pete.”

You move,and he steps inside, letting the door close behind him, his body sagging slightly now that he feels safe. He winces when he moves, confirming what you already suspected, he’s hurting more than he shows.

“’S not as bad as it looks, I promise,” he mumbles, but his eyes soften when he sees the worry etched across your face. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. I was waiting for you.” You guide him towards the worn out couch, helping him sit down carefully. He doesn’t resist,too tired and too sore to protest.

You grab the first-aid kit and sit on the small coffee table in front of him, your fingers already reaching for his bloodied hands. His knuckles are bruised and swollen, skin split. He watches you quietly as you clean the cuts with gentle, practiced hands, his breath hitching when the peroxide stings. “Hold still,” you murmur, as if he’s about to bolt.

“Ain’t used to someone fussin’ over me,” he says softly, almost amused. His lips twitch into a faint smirk, but there’s something tender in his gaze, something vulnerable he can’t quite hide.

“Maybe someone should,” you counter, wrapping a clean bandage around his hand with careful precision. “You’re not invincible, Pete.” He huffs a quiet laugh, letting you continue your work in silence. You tilt his chin up next, inspecting the gash above his eyebrow. It’s shallow, but it’s still bleeding a little. He watches you closely as you dab at it with a damp cloth, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Did you win?” you ask after a moment, breaking the comfortable silence, trying to sound casual.

“Course we did,” he says with that trademark cockiness, but his voice is softer, almost like he’s trying to reassure you. “Not a scratch on the boys.” You roll your eyes but can’t help the sense of pride warming your chest. “Idiot.”

His hand suddenly covers yours, stilling your careful movements. His fingers are rough, calloused, but his touch is warm, grounding. “I’m alright,” he says quietly, as if sensing the storm of worry still swirling inside you. “I swear.”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, and press a soft kiss to his bruised knuckles, how could the same hands that fight so fiercely, hold you so gently. His breath hitches again, “Come here,” he murmurs, tugging you up and into his lap despite his injuries. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close, as if holding you is the only thing keeping him anchored.

For a long moment, you just sit there, your hands resting against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your fingertips. His grip tightens like he’s afraid you might slip away, even though you’re right there, safe and solid in his arms. You grab the damp cloth cleaning the blood on his lip, also cleaning the trail of blood down his neck. “I hate seeing you like this,” you whisper.

“I know.” His moves closer as his lips brushed against your temple. “But you’re here. That’s what matters.”

And in the quiet of your small apartment, bruised and sore but still standing, he found peace.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

IM ON HERE TO CELEBRATE YOUR 1000 FOLLOWERS 🎉🎉🎉 WOOOOT!

Can I pretty please request Jax Teller for prompt #14!?

Thank you!!!!!

Masterlist

Insomnia

Contains: Very mild angst, fluff.

1.2K words

“My eyelids are heavy, but my thoughts are heavier.” - Unknown

You couldn't begin to express how grateful the late nights were less late now that the club was out of guns and drugs. The only downside was that Jax and the rest of the Sons were now just mechanics, they had cars to fix and taxes to file, not meeting deadlines meant parts didn't get bought and paychecks weren't written.

Anxiety still lingered when Jax was away at night, a hold off from the worry that the next phone call would deliver the worst news one could get. Tonight was one of those nights, even though you knew Jax was safe, your brain wouldn't quiet.

The sound of a door opening drew you from your thoughts, "What are you still doing up? It's almost one."

You shrugged, "The usual. I can't sleep when your side of the bed is cold. Your dinner is in the microwave."

Jax gave you a soft smile, "Lucky me because I'm starving. Sit with me while I eat?"

You nodded, "That's my plan." Jax hurried to the kitchen and warmed his dinner before sitting next to you at the dining table, "Did you get all your work done?" 

"You bet, and I've got the whole weekend off so we can sleep in." You could smell the faint hint of oil on his clothes. 

"That's great news, you know how much I love our lazy mornings." If you were lucky, Abel would be there too, between you and Jax. 

"You and me both darlin. How was work?" He must have been hungry, half the food was already gone. 

"The usual." You yawned and Jax reached across the table to hold your hand, "I'm sorry, I guess I was just waiting for you to get home." 

Jax shook his head, "I'm almost done here. I'll hop into the shower then I'll be all yours." 

You sighed, "That sounds perfect." 

"How did Abel go at daycare today?" Jax loved all the pictures Abel drew for him, his locker, his office and his workstation were full of them. 

You smiled, "He had lots of fun today, they got a new water table and he went wild. I had to throw his tiny little shoes in the wash, that's how much fun he had." 

Jax chuckled, "I'll pick him up on Monday, I can't have you having all the fun darlin." 

"Sure, he loves it when you go and get him." You went to take Jax's empty plate from him, but he yanked it away. 

"I'll do that darlin." He rushed it to the sink before drying it and putting it away. Once that was done and he had wiped over the kitchen one last time, he walked back over to you and stretched out his hand, "Shall we?" 

You nodded and took his hand, "We shall." 

The trip to the bedroom was quick, and then Jax was stripping off and hopping into the shower, "You wanna get ready for bed darlin?"

You sighed, "I guess I better try and keep a routine, brushing my teeth and washing my face again won't hurt." 

Steam filled the room as Jax washed the day away and smirked when he caught you staring at him through the shower glass, "See something you like darlin?" 

You nodded, "You know I do Teller." 

The shower flicked off and he stepped out, wrapping the towel around his waist before stopping by the kiss you on the cheek on his way to the bedroom to get dressed. 

With his comfortable grey sweatpants on, he headed to the bed and flicked the heated blanket on your side before fluffing your pillow and peeling back the covers, "Hop in darlin." 

You took your robe off and placed it on the chair, leaving you in just one of Jax's T-Shirts and a pair of panties, then climbed into bed with a sigh, "It's so much better with you here. Maybe we should get a cat so when you're not here, I'm not alone in bed." 

Jax smiled, "I like that idea, we've got the room and it will be good for Abel to have a pet." 

You reached over to the bedside table and picked up the bottle of the lavender lotion but before you could do anything, Jax took it from you, "Let me?" 

You nodded, "I'd like that." 

He started with your arms, rubbing the smooth cream in with broad, firm strokes, "What do we need for a cat? Food, water fountains, a few litter trays and toys. Hell, with Happy's help, we can have one by Monday." 

He pinched your shirt and you pulled it over your head so he could do your shoulders next, "We need a bit more time than that. The kitty should have a catio, that will keep you busy over a few weekends and once that's build and the cat can enjoy the outdoors without killing anything we can get the kitty." 

The corner of Jax's mouth ticked up as he moved to your chest and a thought came over him, "We can tell Abel can't we? He'll want to help." 

Your eye grew heavy as you spun and his hands moved over your back, "Sure we can tell Abel. He'll want to name the kitten and he should come when we pick. Not that it means anything, the cat will pick us." 

You returned to facing him and Jax moved to your legs, rubbing the ache out of your claves, "You've already said you'll let the cat on the bed so I only have one rule, he or she has to stay away from my kutte." 

You chuckled, "You and I both know that's not going to happen, cats do what cats want." 

Jax sighed and placed the bottle back in its spot before picking your book up, "I guess so. How are you feeling now darlin?" 

You smiled, "Great, I'm ready to call it a night." You slid all the way into bed and placed your head on the pillow, "Will you read to me, I love the sound of your voice." 

Jax looked over you fondly, "Of course, darlin, that was my plan when I picked up your book." You had been reading it to him for days, a sweet tale of a little robot in search of life on Mars who made friends with an alien. 

"Rusty lifted his little arm and ticked as he handed the apple slice to his friend, 'Apples are one of human's favourite fruits, you should try some.' The alien took the slice from him with a squeak and ate it in one bite, then gave another squeak of approval at the sweet taste." 

You snuggled closer to Jax and he wrapped his arm around your body, "The Alien squeaked again, then waved its arms before pointing to itself and then to Rusty. The series of squeaks that followed sounded like the robot's name and then another which must have been its own." 

Your eyes felt so heavy as Jax continued, "It made sense when Rusty heard it for a second time, 'Your name is Eldredth? Tell me Eldredth, have you ever had chocolate? It is the best of the human's treats." 

Jax smiled as he felt your chest rise and fall softly under his arm. He put the book and laid down next to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead and pulling the blanket up to your neck, "Good night Darlin, I love you." 

Fin

[hotdamnhunnam]

On Your Knees

A/N: So as I noted in this teaser thingy, I don’t really intend to be back on tumblr actively, BUT I just couldn’t resist writing for Kai!! This fic will be smutty, while also providing a bit of backstory that I feel he needs and deserves honestly. I fucking love this guy 💗

Pairing: Kai x F!Reader Warnings: smut (p in v, oral), swearing, dom!Kai, dirty talk (but it’s not until Part 2 that shit gets degrading and dark) Word Count: ~3.8k

“On your knees.”

It’s been forever and a day, since you last laid your eyes on Kai. Since then you’ve searched for him across the whole entire fucking sky. Whatever words you had expected him to say… you never would have dreamt of these.

On your knees.

The blood in your veins is on fire; it burns as the blue of his gaze starts to freeze. The blaze rises higher, so desperate to melt down this fortress of ice that you hadn’t believed you would find. Paid the rumors no mind—he’s a bounty hunter or a gun for hire, who would sell his soul to any well-paying buyer, or so everybody agrees—yet you’ve come here to seek out the true heart of gold that you know lies behind. But all gold can be sold and it seems that he’s taken his fees.

And now he’s set on taking whatever he damn well may please.

Your voice escapes your throat pathetically. “Kai, it’s me…”

Cocks his head. Lifts his brow. Silent laughter at what you just said. Obviously. But who you are doesn’t mean shit to him now. “Aye, I see.”

You might just choke. The heart that never once stopped beating for this godforsaken rogue just fucking broke.

He snickers down as if the beating of your heart is just a joke. The curl of those cruel lips holds even more force than his words. And that’s what brings you to your knees and makes you weak, so weak it hurts, as he comes close and rests his palm against your cheek, piercing your soul straight to the core with just one stroke.

Straight to the core. Summon what strength you have to speak, unsure whether the vows that you once made have any value anymore. “I’ve come back to you just as I swore…”

“Of course,” he utters as those ice-blue eyes seek out and strike the deepest truth in yours. “You’ve come to me just as you were before: still nothing but a worthless fucking whore.”

***************

--- Years Earlier ---

“Impressive.”

You smile over your shoulder as he comes up from behind to wrap his arms tightly around you, in a warm embrace that’s all at once affectionate and aggressive. Passionate and possessive. Just as his touch is every night when he pins you to bed and pounds you.

Kai is wildly impressed to see you standing tall at the helm of this ship where he’s found you. The ship is in shambles and beaten down, long since abandoned here out on the plains past the outskirts of town. Still the grandeur of spacefaring vessels like this never fails to astound you. The freedom that they represent gives you hope that someday you and Kai might escape from this planet that’s bound to the rule of a ruthless imperial crown.

Yet this starship is broken and dead. It feels good to stand here for a bit and pretend you can steer it—steer something for once in your life so that you can cling onto what little is left of your spirit, forge on towards the future instead of just having to fear it… but you know it’s best not to let false hope get to your head.

“You’d make a fetching pilot, love,” Kai purrs into your ear while he plants kisses on the soft skin of your neck. “So fucking hot I think you might stir up the engine of this wreck. Won’t be surprised if you just up and fly it off.”

The laughter on your lips melts into his, as you lean back to taste his kiss. “I wish I could. The two of us would fuck shit up in space so good.”

“Aye, that we would.”

For now Kai is more than content to fuck you up against the window of this spacecraft and you both know that’s exactly what’s in store. Know you were put upon this planet just to serve him as his filthy little whore. On any planet you would always be just that and nothing more.

Through the layers of both of your clothes you can feel the thick length of his shaft, pressed up against your lower half. Desperate hands reach into his pants to set him free and grasp at every perfect inch of him that you exist to worship and adore.

“Impressive,” you echo his words from before.

He chuckles in that playfully suggestive, sinful way that always hits you in the slick heat of your core. The man knows he’s massive. He wields his cock like a damn weapon of war.

But with you it’s a war fought for love and he makes it so pure.

It’s just unfathomable to you that this man is fucking yours.

You’ve only ever been to this small corner of the vast expanse of space, yet when you look upon his face, you have no doubt that he’s the most beautiful man in all the universe.

As ever in his presence you’re tempted to fall on your knees. It’s your favorite position: to kneel before him in submission. To swallow his cock till he fills your throat with his delicious release. Kai knows this but is ever the tease. He knows just what you’re wishing, but holds you up right where you are to prevent you from sinking so he can keep kissing your lips, one hand gripping your hips, while the other roams over the parts of your body that nobody else ever sees.

“K-Kai please…”

“What is it you want?” he sadistically taunts, and then animalistically grunts, as he feels the wetness of your cunt.

You can’t speak, at the touch of his fingers exploring the treasures they seek.

So he feeds you the words. “This big cock in that sweet little mouth of yours?”

“Yes—please, yes…!” you gasp, heightening his desire as well as your own as you handle his hardness with long strokes and squeezes, loving how it throbs in your tightening grasp.

Kai loves making you plead, getting off on the way that you moan for him over and over again. Till he’s ready to finally provide what you need. Ready now then he reckons. A wicked smirk crosses his mouth and it threatens to end you this second. “Indeed. Since you’re beggin’.”

At last then he lets you sink down to the floor, where you instantly bury your face in his crotch and start slobbering madly all over his cock because this is what you fucking live for.

He smells and tastes simply divine. Better than any man fucking should. Smash your nose in the fine golden hairs at the base of his dick and get drunk on his scent like it’s wine… swipe your tongue up the length in a sensuous line…God it’s good. The salt and sweetness and the musk with earthy undertones of wood. You know nothing of what gods exist in this world or the next, other than being certain that Kai is a living breathing god of sex.

His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer into him and holding you right fucking there. It’s heaven when he plows your throat. No other feeling could compare. You reach to clutch at the firm muscles of his ass and meet his blue gaze as you eagerly wait for him to unravel and explode. The twinkle in his eye reminds you that you’re his and that he never wants to share, just as he’s yours and no one else deserves the privilege to take his precious load.

You take it down with your cheeks hollowed, throat contracting tight around him as he groans in utter bliss. Your love for him deepens with every drop you’ve swallowed, since the day when you first met and every day and night that’s followed. Didn’t think it would be possible to love him more than this. To be so cock-drunk and so lovestruck… fuck, it’s glorious.

Your worship of him always takes him somewhere far beyond the stars. So fucking far. He loves the whore you are, just as you love the whore he is. The kind of love that heals as deeply as it scars. You’re only whores for one another which is why the love you make is always pure no matter how dirty it is.

He worships you in turn, that filthy mouth on him a fire-breathing sin. Making you burn. Laying his claim to every last inch of your skin and every fiber of your being deep within. Your impulse is to be down on your knees for him but when the man insists on pleasuring your cunt—because for him your pleasure’s always at the forefront—well of course you just give in.

And then he fucks your cunt to pieces to make sure you won’t ever forget that his sex is the reason you’re living.

You can’t begin to wrap your mind around him being so damn perfect. But you sure as hell can wrap your pussy tight around the war weapon that’s pumping deep inside of you so powerfully erect. Both of you like it good and rough, and soon enough, this stranded spaceship’s not the only thing that’s wrecked.

The vessel tilts a little bit with his last thrust; this ship is huge but so is Kai, and he’s apparently so strong that he just rocked the goddamned deck. That shit is so insanely hot you might just die. Combust. Crumble to dust. As you both come down from the high, your pulse is racing and he traces its pace with his parted lips pressed to your neck.

The two of you remain entwined for hours, as you always do. Whispering sweet nothings that you wish could be true. Let’s just pretend this ship is ours. That the universe is ours. That we’ll fly away, and soar the skies someday, just me and you. But nothing is nothing regardless of how sweet it seems, and you can’t fly away from the fact that the universe bows to formidable powers. To forces that devastate dreams, through and through.

To the powers that be. Powers that crush all hopes of ever being free or being happy.

Kai reads your mind as your thoughts drift to that dark place. Knows that it’s time to tell you what he came to say, when he found you aboard this ship today, before he got distracted and ended up fucking your brains out past the farthest reaches of space. It’s not a message that he’s eager to convey. But it’s an order that you can’t really afford to disobey.

Still he wants you to stay, blue eyes begging you to as he softly caresses your face. Yet he knows on some level that dreams of resistance are silly to chase. That the price of just one slice of heaven is steep and there’ll be hell to pay.

He clears his throat and breathes in deep, wishing the price weren’t so damn steep. “Meant to tell you that he’s been… requesting your presence again.”

You had known to expect this. Chosen to neglect this. As if you could run to some empty abandoned starship to hide from the constant demands of that monster who thinks he’s a god among men.

But you can’t and to even attempt this… is useless and reckless. Though Kai referred to the imperial officer’s order as just a request, it was obviously a command. So you stand, smooth your skirt with a trembling hand—knowing Kai wishes he could hold on to you now and protect what is rightfully his—but your honor is yours to defend. No one else’s. All yours in the end.

He knows this too but wishes he didn’t. He hates this part. Watching you leave is the part when he cages his heart, locking it in a block of cement. “So you’ll just run off to him then?”

All too familiar with his defense mechanisms, you don’t halt your rhythm. The whole fiasco of this moment is always the same with him, despite the fact that he must know this isn’t something either one of you enjoys. So rather than rushing to blame him, or letting the swell of emotions inside you erupt into violence, you cast him a side glance, remind him in silence: it’s not as if I have a choice.

Evidently today the cement is much thicker than usual; the next words off his lips at your lack of response come off particularly cruel. “What, lost your dignity and your voice?”

God, he knows how to hit your inner slut, and make her want to die. To bleed her dry. His name escapes your throat in a defeated sigh. “Kai…”

He hates himself right now more than that monstrous fucking officer or anyone at all. Down to his core. Your knees just buckled and he rushes to catch you before you fall, but he’s so broken now himself that you both end up on the floor, down on your knees. The words he’d just uttered were driven by demons he’s struggling to bury—lately there have been a whole lot of these. Pulls you in close and releases his heart from its stone wall, as he dissolves into a mess of regrets and apologies. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Inevitably you end up making love, which is the only answer when words aren’t enough. Soft and slow. But it has to end quickly, because you have somewhere to be. Can’t hold on to the afterglow. Leave before tears overflow. Just a few words then you have to go.

You wish Kai could see things from your point of view. He gives you every reassurance that he gets it; his response earlier was impossibly harsh but he clearly regrets it. Still you can’t help but feel as if he’s disappointed in you. Despite how authoritative the Imperium is and the consequences that are sure to ensue if you stand up against it… he sees your obeying the officer’s orders as something you’re making the choice to do.

And that view baffles you because how could you possibly choose to do something that fucking destroys you?

The officer knows all your weaknesses. If you should ever defy him he’d go after Kai, to hit you where he knows it would hurt you the most and you can’t stand to think or to speak of this. You’d rather die. And your fear of that terrible punishment forces your hand; you must heed his command. Without having to spell this shit out you just wish Kai would understand why.

“I understand,” he says, but he can’t meet your pleading gaze. He’s not quite certain whether what he said is true, and surely you would see right through. Instead looks out the spacecraft window at the distant stars that deign to cast their rays upon this conquered stretch of land. It feels like pity and that shit infuriates him in a million fucking ways. “I understand, I do. It just kills me to think of someone else inside you—”

“Kai, I’ve told you time and time again to trust me that he hasn’t…”

“That’s not even what I meant.”

“It’s what you said.”

With worlds of pain behind his plaintive eyes he reaches out to cup your cheek then smooths his thumb across the creases in your forehead. “What I meant is that I just can’t shake this sense that he’s gotten inside your head. To men like that nothing is sacred. He’s attracted to your spirit ‘cause he knows that he can break it. Wants to wait for you to give your body to him though it’s well within his power to just take it. And whatever little honor you’ve got left down to the final fucking shred… he won’t stop till it’s fucking dead.”

His warning chills you to the bone, because you know it to be true. For better or worse you’ve got some defense mechanisms of your own. Just a few. Brush off his touch and clench your jaw and let a little bit of spite sharpen your tone. “So then what would you have me do? Not all of us can be as honorable as you.”

Now his jaw clenches too. So hard that he might be at risk of breaking it. “The choice is yours, of course,” he mutters, eyes flashing an icy shade of blue. “Just know you’re making it. Don’t hide behind the lie your hand was forced.”

At that you turn to leave him with a scoff, throwing a bitter glare that tells him to fuck off.

But just before you disembark, you catch a glimpse of some metallic thing that glimmers in the dark. The mess of clothes that Kai had flung off of his shoulders when he fucked you up against the window, some hours ago… he’d had a gun tucked in among them and the sight of it right now is fucking stark. You have no reason to be shocked about it though.

He wasn’t hiding it from you; the fact that he’s been packing unauthorized arms is something you already knew. That doesn’t mean it’s something you wanted to know. Seeing this fatal metal thing strikes you as such a blunt reminder of what he intends to do. And you know where it’s bound to go.

Where your gaze and your thoughts wander his always follow. “There’s a strategy session set up for tomorrow,” he states in reference to the folks in your town who believe independence is something that any respectable person would die to defend. Even if it means battling forces against which they can’t even try to contend. “May be able to make concrete plans now that we’ve finally got enough guns stashed in our secret cargo. I already know better than to ask whether you’d want to attend. Guess the answer will always be no.”

The two of you have talked about this countless times before. And every time it turns to fucking when you both can’t bear the talking anymore. It’s irresponsible and immature, but in the rosy throes of youth, it seems to you love is the only fucking truth, the only thing you know for sure. The only thing that’s clear and pure. Love keeps you whole so you don’t fall apart from fear of what your hopeless-looking future has in store.

But you’re not that young, and you can’t just fuck away these pressing issues for that long. He can’t just kiss you to prevent the words from falling off your tongue. He knows it too and so you sit and talk for once and hope shit doesn’t go too wrong.

You admire and love him for being so brave and so strong. Tell him so. But that small band of big-hearted rebels is not somewhere you feel you’ll ever belong. He has to let it go.

And you have to let go of your hope that he might change his mind. That he might decide doing what makes sense to simply survive matters more than misguided delusions of honor chasing after some kind of freedom he won’t ever find.

You tenderly caress his face and feel the warmth of his blood rush to meet your hand. It’s all that you can do to pray his precious blood won’t spill someday fighting a war over some worthless stretch of land. This lovely planet is your home but in your eyes it’s all worth nothing without Kai. “I know how fiercely you believe in your brothers, and in your friends. In the rebellion that all of you have planned. What terrifies me is this feeling that it’s fucking doomed to fail and if you die… I can’t fathom anything worse. Of course I know the choice to fight with them is yours, but for my part I’m not as brave as all the others. I can’t bring myself to stand behind this cause when I’m afraid it won’t be worth it in the end. Please understand.”

Kai leans into your touch and turns his face to kiss your palm, cracking a sad smile to fight the tears that otherwise would come. Unshed they shine like stars hiding behind his eyes so blue. “Aye, I do.”

It’s a lie. Lie as big as the sky. But he hides behind it till it might become true, or at least fucking tries to.

At that it’s time for you to go, fearing that you should have done so hours ago. The sheer pressure of fear shatters you; fact is deep down it shatters him too. He just copes with his hopes and fears in a more complicated way.

“I promise I will always come back to you.” These are the same words that you always say, when you leave—words you fiercely believe—to assure him that nothing could keep you away.

When you leave him with those words Kai usually lets you, eventually once he’s done venting all his pent up rage and dealing every card he has to play. But evidently not today. “You wouldn’t have to. If you’d just stay.”

The way his voice trembles with gentleness, with selflessness, as he abandons every one of his defenses… it fucking kills you when he gets this way. It doesn’t happen often, and it always makes your heart open and soften. “That’s true. Maybe I can keep him waiting just one day…”

His eyes go wide, unable to believe that this is something you would actually decide. It makes him love you even more and suddenly he’s shy and blushing as if he thinks he’s unworthy of the privilege of your touch. “Or just one hour or one minute for I ought to know I shouldn’t ask too much—”

You shut him up with your forefinger pressed against his luscious lip. Provocatively bite your own to make it known that you want him to spend all day fucking you up against this ship.

Last time he did it shook the whole entire deck; maybe this time the sex will be so fucking hot that it’ll set fire to this wreck. Wouldn’t put anything past Kai. It’d be a perfect way to die.

Slamming your back against the window of this wrecked dreadnought, he effortlessly reads your every thought—goddamn that thought just now was a particularly bold one—and from his wicked smirk it’s plain to see that he agrees it would be perfect and insanely fucking hot. “You might want to hold on.”

And you do, clinging closely to him like the sky clings to stars at the coming of dawn. In the bright glare of day they’ll no longer shine through. But that won’t mean they’re gone.

Here tonight, and even if they’re out of sight, come morning light… all the stars in his eyes shine for you. With those stars guiding you, you’ll hold on.

***************

… To be continued in Part 2!

The plan is for Part 2 to explore more of the earlier timeline and also carry forward the opening scene of course, which is when dark degrading dom!Kai will be out in full force 🔥

If you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist for this fic (below), just let me know! Much love to all of you 💖

Masterlist

Taglist for this fic (based on responses to the teaser) – @midnightbabylon @rayslittlekitten @pikapuff-316 @youflickedtooharddamnit @laurfilijames @okin-awa @lovebittenbyevans @jmamas92 @theliterarybeldam @dirtytomatoedwrites @ughdontbeboring @netflix-imagines

[charmingsoa]

✶ Where the Wild Things Are: Two ✶ ■ 1960s Sons of Anarchy story ■

⌃ Jax Teller/ OC x Thomas Teller/OC ⌃

Warning: Please read with caution. This story will include: drug use, physical, verbal, and sexual abuse. miscarriages, sexual content, alcohol use, homicide, cursing, etc. ★ If You would like to be tagged in future updates, simply leave your username in the comments.

Taglist: @oskea93, @keyweegirlie @ravennaortiz

As the California sun beat down on me, the wind whipping through my hair as I rode on the back of the motorcycle, I couldn't help but reflect on the narrow-minded beliefs my parents had instilled in me and my brothers. Growing up in a conservative household where conformity and judgment were the norm, I had always been taught to view anyone who rode motorcycles as nothing but trash – individuals destined for the depths of hell.

My parents, staunch believers in their own sect of holy rollers, held strong prejudices against those who lived differently or held alternative beliefs. They saw the world in black and white, with no room for shades of gray or understanding. But as I clung to the back of the driver, feeling the freedom of the open road beneath me, I realized how misguided their teachings had been.

The rider in front of me, a stranger whose name I learned was Tig, exuded a sense of liberation and rebellion that I had never experienced before. The rumble of the engine beneath us seemed to drown out the judgmental voices of my past, and for the first time, I felt truly alive.

When the group first pulled up in front of me, I didn’t know whether to take their offer or run for the distant hills. Growing up, the horror stories of gangs kidnapping young girls and doing the unthinkable were ingrained in my psyche as my mother preached of their dangers. She would spew words of hatred and fear whenever the topic arose, warning me to steer clear of any suspicious-looking individuals or groups that might pose a threat.

As I stood there, frozen in indecision, the leader of the group stepped forward with a smile that seemed almost too friendly for someone in his position. His eyes held a glint of mischief, but there was something else there too – a hint of vulnerability that I couldn’t quite place.

"Hey there, don’t be afraid," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "We’re just a group of travelers looking for some company on the road. We mean you no harm."

I hesitated, my mind racing with conflicting thoughts. Should I trust this stranger and accept his offer of companionship, or should I heed the warnings of my mother and make a run for it? The decision weighed heavily on my shoulders, the consequences of each choice playing out vividly in my mind.

In the end, curiosity got the best of me, and I found myself nodding hesitantly, agreeing to join the group on their journey. As I climbed onto the back of his bike and we set off down the road together, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was embarking on an adventure that would change my life forever.

As we finally started to slow down upon entering a small town called Charming, I couldn't help but notice the reactions of the locals as the bikes rumbled past. Pedestrians on the sidewalk stopped in their tracks, their eyes widening with surprise and disapproval as they watched the group pass by. Disapproving looks were etched on their faces, and I could almost feel the judgment radiating towards them.

The quaint shops and cafes that lined the main street seemed to quiet down as we rode through, the sound of the engines cutting through the peaceful ambiance of the town. I could see the whispers and sideways glances exchanged among the townspeople, their curiosity mixed with a hint of fear or disdain.

The men didn’t seem to mind the disapproving looks from the townspeople – smirks on some of their faces as they revved their engines a little more as they passed by. The sound of the engines roared through the quiet streets, echoing off the old brick buildings that lined the road.

As they pulled into a side entrance of a garage, I knew this was officially the end of the line for them. I watched as they parked side-by-side, each backing their bikes into their assigned spaces. The engines sputtered to a halt, the sound gradually fading into the background as the men dismounted and stretched their legs.

I quickly gathered my things, removing myself from the bike, my legs feeling equivalent to jelly as they gathered the strength to hold up my weight. The adrenaline that had fueled me through the ride was now dissipating, leaving behind a feeling of exhaustion and exhilaration.

I leaned against a nearby lamppost, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The men exchanged nods and grins as they gathered in a loose circle, their leather jackets creaking slightly as they moved.

One of them, a tall man with a patchwork of tattoos covering his arms, pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered them around. The faint smell of smoke mingled with the lingering scent of gasoline, creating a heady mix that hung in the air.

As they lit up and took long drags, their faces relaxed into expressions of contentment. The tension that had hung over them during the ride seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and shared purpose.

The door to the business slowly opened, an older woman stepped onto the concrete below. Her presence commanded attention, exuding a sense of authority and confidence that made it clear she was not to be underestimated. The leather pants she wore hugged her figure, accentuating her strong and graceful movements as she made her way towards the men.

Her blonde highlights caught the sunlight, creating a halo of shimmering gold around her head. Despite the warmth of the day, there was a coolness in her gaze that hinted at a steely resolve beneath the polished exterior. I observed from a respectful distance as Gemma interacted with the men, her gestures filled with warmth and affection that spoke of deep bonds and shared history. She moved among them with ease, exchanging hugs and kisses that spoke of a familial closeness that went beyond mere camaraderie.

A tall man approached her from behind, his presence exuding a sense of quiet strength and authority. He wrapped his strong arms around her small waist, drawing her close in a gesture that was both protective and intimate. The woman’s laughter rang out, a clear and joyful sound that seemed to light up the space around them.

Their lips met in a brief but tender kiss, a display of affection that was unapologetically open and genuine. There was a sense of ease and comfort between them, a connection that ran deep and unspoken, forged through years of shared experiences and challenges.

My eyes moved away from the couple as the door reopened, this time revealing a blonde man. He looked to be in his early 20s – shoulder length hair resting against his work shirt. I don’t know how I looked to those around, but it was almost like how a cartoon character’s draw drops to the floor – he was gorgeous. I watched as he stepped off the stoop, sauntering over to the circle of men, clapping them on the back as he welcomed their return.

I was so caught up in the enigmatic presence of the blonde man that I failed to notice another individual had quietly slipped into the corner with us – the older woman with a knowing smile playing on her lips. Her voice, smooth and seasoned, cut through the hazy atmosphere around us.

"You lost, kitten?" she inquired, her tone a curious blend of amusement and concern. Her eyes, framed by fine lines that whispered of wisdom and experience, held a glint of something indefinable, as though she saw more than just the surface of things.

Startled by her sudden appearance and the unexpected nickname, I turned to face her, momentarily at a loss for words. The air between us crackled with a kind of unspoken understanding, as if she could see right through the facade I presented to the world.

“Sorry-“ I stammered. “I – uh-“

A smile spread across her face as she placed her hand on my arm, her touch warm and comforting. "You must be the little one the guys picked up on their way home. Tig told me all about you when he called a little while ago."

Memories of when we stopped at the gas station hours before came flooding back – the smell of gasoline, the flickering lights, and the sound of chatter from the other customers. I remembered my eyes connecting with Tig’s as he spoke animatedly in the glass box, his voice carrying a sense of urgency and excitement.

"What’s your name, sweetheart?" the woman asked, her eyes kind and curious.

Tucking a loose red strand of hair behind my ear, I replied, "Catherine. Catherine Landry." My voice was low, almost a whisper, as if unsure of my own presence in this moment.

The woman's smile widened, a glint of recognition flashing in her eyes. "Catherine Landry," she repeated softly, as if savoring the sound of the name. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Catherine. I'm Gemma."

As I started to speak, the sound of gravel crunching beneath heavy steps caught my attention, drawing my gaze away from Gemma. I turned, my eyes following the path of the approaching figure with blonde hair that glinted in the bright sunshine.

He walked with purpose, his strides confident and measured, his presence commanding attention. The gravel shifted under his weight, creating a rhythmic pattern that seemed to echo the beating of my heart.

As he drew closer, I noticed the intensity in his gaze, the way his eyes seemed to search and assess, taking in every detail of the scene before him. There was a certain magnetism about him, a silent strength that seemed to radiate from his very being.

Gemma's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of recognition crossing her features as she greeted him with a nod. "Hey baby," she said, her voice warm and welcoming.

As the two embraced one another, I stood there, a silent observer to the intimate moment unfolding before me. The man's eyes remained fixed on me, a hint of curiosity and something else I couldn't quite decipher lingering in their depths.

Gemma's arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her embrace filled with a sense of familiarity and comfort. There was a closeness between them, a bond that seemed to transcend words and time.

I watched as they held each other, their connection palpable in the air around them. It was as if they shared a history, a story that only they knew, leaving me on the outside looking in, a stranger to their world.

As they finally pulled away, a silent understanding passing between them, the man turned his gaze back to me. There was a question in his eyes, a silent inquiry that hung in the air, waiting to be answered.

As Gemma turned her attention back to me, her warm smile lighting up her face, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling within me. "Catherine," she began, her voice filled with a sense of familiarity and fondness, "This is my son, Jackson."

Jackson. The name echoed in my mind, stirring something deep within me. I looked up to meet his gaze, finding a pair of eyes that held a hint of curiosity and a touch of amusement.

Gemma's introduction caught me off guard, her words painting a picture of me as a lost soul in need of rescue. "She's the little thing that Tig and the guys picked up along the way," she explained, her tone lighthearted but tinged with a hint of motherly concern.

I couldn't help but inwardly roll my eyes at her explanation, feeling a twinge of annoyance at being likened to a stray puppy. It was true that I had found myself in an unexpected situation, but I was no damsel in distress in need of saving.

As I exchanged greetings with Jackson, a sense of curiosity sparked within me. There was something about him, a quiet strength and a depth in his eyes that hinted at hidden layers beneath the surface.

Jackson smirked and his eyes roamed up my body, a wave of self-consciousness washed over me, causing a slight flush to rise to my cheeks. His gaze held a hint of mischief and confidence, leaving me momentarily flustered in his presence.

"It's nice to meet you too," I replied, trying to maintain a composed demeanor despite the flutter of nerves within me. There was something magnetic about Jackson, an undeniable charm that drew me in even as I felt the weight of his scrutiny.

Gemma's proud voice interrupted the moment, drawing my attention back to her as she spoke of her son. "Jax is the leader of the group," she said with a hint of pride. "Along with my other son, Thomas." The revelation that there were two brothers leading the group took me by surprise. “Club comes from a strong line of Teller men," Gemma continued, her tone filled with reverence and hope for the future. "Hoping to continue that tradition in the future." She affectionately patted Jackson's chest, her gesture a symbol of both maternal pride and a legacy to uphold.

Jackson rolled his eyes at his mother's suggestion, a hint of amusement danced in his gaze.

"Trust me," he stated, his deep voice carrying a sense of authority that cut through the air, "She's really the one in charge."

The bond between Jackson and Gemma was palpable from the very beginning. It was clear to anyone who observed them that they shared a special connection, a closeness that went beyond words. Jackson was the one closest to his mother, their relationship built on a foundation of trust, understanding, and unwavering loyalty.

In contrast, Thomas seemed to be as far removed from Gemma as possible. There was a distance between them, an unspoken divide that hinted at unresolved issues and unspoken tensions. While Jackson and Gemma thrived in each other's company, Thomas seemed to seek solace elsewhere, distancing himself from the intricate web of relationships that defined their family dynamic.

Jax and Gemma's bond ran deep, a complex tapestry of emotions that intertwined their fates in ways that were both captivating and destructive. They fed off each other's energy, their connection fueled by a sense of mutual need and dependency that bordered on obsession.

Thick as thieves one moment, brutal enemies the next, their relationship was a rollercoaster of emotions that played out like a high-stakes drama. Time slipped away, leaving behind a trail of unresolved conflicts and simmering tensions that threatened to erupt at any moment.

The heat that Gemma placed between her two sons was a double-edged sword, igniting a fire that fueled their passions and their conflicts in equal measure. Theirs was a relationship fraught with complexity, where love and loyalty mingled with jealousy and resentment, creating a volatile mix that kept them locked in a perpetual dance of push and pull.

Thomas felt the weight of his mother Gemma's favoritism like a heavy chain, binding him to a perpetual cycle of disappointment and resentment. From a young age, he watched as Gemma showered his older brother Jackson with praise and attention, leaving him in the shadows of Jax's achievements. Despite his best efforts to earn her approval, Gemma's preference for Jackson was unwavering, creating a toxic atmosphere of rivalry and animosity between the Teller brothers.

"So, from what I heard, you’re hitching to San Francisco?” Gemma spoke as she looked at me with curiosity. “What’s so important down there that you had to leave home for?” She pushed past her son, taking hold of my arm as she started walking up towards the building.

“From the looks of you-“She did a once over. “Looks to me like you’re running away from something – midwestern lifestyle, perhaps?” Gemma's keen observation caught me off guard, her words cutting through my carefully crafted facade. I shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way I hadn't anticipated.

I cleared my throat nervously, feeling the weight of my confession hanging in the air. "My parents are very conservative – conservative and very religious," Her eyes closing in understanding, Gemma listened intently as I opened about my inner conflict. "They're lovely people – " I began to backpedal, feeling a need to qualify my earlier statement. "But the life I want to live doesn't match with how they want me to live. I want to be able to be free and do what I please, but they're all about the image and how the Lord wants us to live our lives."

"You ran away?" Gemma's voice was filled with concern and empathy, her eyes searching mine for answers.

I nodded slowly, the memories of that night flooding. "Left in the middle of the night after my father beat me with a switch," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. My eyes cast down to the ground, unable to meet Gemma's gaze as the shame and hurt of that moment washed over me once again. "He called me awful names, and my mother just sat there and watched."

Gemma's back straightened, a steely resolve entering her expression as she processed my words. "Doesn't sound to me like they're lovely people," she stated firmly, her voice tinged with indignation.

I shrugged my shoulders, “That’s just how they are – been like that my whole life.” I knew I shouldn’t be making excuses for them, but they were my parents. “I’m the only daughter – I was supposed to be the epitome of a perfect daughter.”

“What could be so bad that your daddy beats you?”

I watched as she pulled out a cigarette, gesturing for me to take one as well. She quickly lit the end of the stick, the smoke invading my lungs with ease. “I started messing around with boys at an early age – sex, drugs, dancing. Sex was my go-to though. They didn’t want their only daughter being known as the town whore, which I guess I became. I was supposed to save myself until I was married – only letting my wedded husband lay between my legs.”

Gemma chuckled, a wry smile playing on her lips. "Sounds a lot like my folks," she remarked, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and humor.

"I just needed to get away, and after seeing all those people on the nightly news coming out here and living life their own way and being free and peaceful –" I paused, the weight of my words hanging heavy in the air. "I just need that in my life right now. A life where I can be free and do whatever I want to do. And if that means I have to do negative things to get to that place, then so be it."

As I spoke, I felt a mix of determination and uncertainty churning within me. The longing for freedom and self-expression had grown into a burning desire, fueled by the stories of those who had dared to defy conventions and carve out their own paths. The allure of a life unbound by limitations and expectations beckoned to me like a distant star, promising a sense of liberation and authenticity that had eluded me for so long.

“You know –“Gemma started. “The Frisco area isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” Her tone matter of fact. “I know it looks all peace and love on the tv screen but it’s really just a bunch of homeless hippies that are looking for attention and free handouts.”

I let out an annoyed sigh.

"Listen, little girl," her voice took on a more serious tone, the lines on her face softening with a mix of concern and affection. "You've accomplished the biggest goal you set for yourself – you made it all the way to California." She paused, letting the significance of the moment sink in before continuing.

A wide smile slowly spread across her face, reflecting pride and admiration. "By what you just told me, that was the ultimate goal. Now, I know going a little further south for the whole peace and love movement was the next quest, but I think for your sake it would be better for you to stay here."

“I don’t know anyone here, though.” I was grasping for excuses.

Her face twisted in a mix of concern and determination. "You weren't gonna know anyone down there either." She tossed her cigarette down, the ember extinguishing under the pressure of her heeled shoe. "You've managed to meet a whole crew of men that will now look after you if you choose to stay. You've met me and Jax – you'll get to meet Thomas when he decides to come home. You're no longer around strangers, baby doll. We can be your family – a family that'll treat you right."

Her voice softened, the edges of her tough exterior melting away to reveal a deep sense of care and protection. "We've seen the world through different lenses, faced our own battles, and carved out our own paths in this chaotic dance of life. But amidst all the chaos, we found each other – kindred spirits bound by shared experiences and unspoken connections."

The older woman's eyes held a glimmer of hope, a silent plea for understanding and acceptance. "You have a home here, among friends who will stand by you through thick and thin, who will lift you up when you stumble and celebrate your victories as their own. Take a chance on us, darling. Let us be the family you never knew you needed, but always longed for deep in your heart."

I would end up staying in that small fucking town for the next 25 years – my whole world coming to revolve around the Teller family and the Sons of Anarchy.

[make-me-imagine]

Exactly My Type

Plot: When going to dinner at Raymond's for what you think is a work dinner, takes a turn.

Prompt: 'First Kiss'

Pairing: Raymond Smith x Gn!Reader

Requested By: @will-grammer

Warnings: Just the kiss.

Words: 1.5k

-

As you walked up the path to Raymond's front door, you tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. No matter how many times you saw him or spoke to him, they were always there.

After ringing the doorbell, you wiped your hands down your top, hoping you didn't over-dress for this dinner. It was only to discuss work, you needed to remind yourself of that. It wasn't a date, just a casual work meal.

As the door swung open, Raymond revealed himself to be in his usual suited appearance, though with an added apron draped from his neck.

He smiled "Right on time."

"Like usual." You added on with a smile, knowing he always appreciated punctuality.

He held open the door or you you stepped inside. You began to take off your jacket, but hesitated when you suddenly felt Raymond grab it from behind. Looking back, your eyes locked and he smiled as he helped you remove it. You felt a shiver run up your spine as his fingers grazed your skin through the fabric.

"Thanks." You muttered softly.

After he hung it up, you followed him into the kitchen. Looking around, it was just a spotless and pristine as usual. But your eyes lingered on a new addition. A bouquet of flowers sitting on the table.

You felt your chest tighten as you wondered who he got them for. You knew quite a lot about Raymond, but he never mentioned personal relationships. You wouldn't be surprised if he had a partner, though you would be lying if you said you didn't feel disappointment at the idea.

Sitting at the bar as Raymond got some glasses, you didn't have to say anything as he immediately prepared your favorite drink. You smiled to yourself as you noticed this, your cheeks warming up a bit.

Looking over to the stove you spoke up "Need any help?"

He shook his head as he placed the drink in font of you "It's done, just need to plate it."

He motioned his head to the dining room table, where you normally ate. Making your way over, you began to sat down, surprised again by Raymond sudden appearance behind you as he pulled out your chair for you. You smiled in thanks as he walked back to the kitchen.

After you began eating, you started to talk about the reason you came, but you were surprised to learn that Raymond had already begun to resolve the problem.

And every problem you brought up, he seemed to have a resolution for as well. You started to wonder why you were here at all.

"Are Mickey and Rosalind aware of all of this?"

He nodded "Yes, but they don't need to worry right now. They went to The Maldives for Valentines Day."

You hummed "Sounds nice. How long are they staying?"

"A week. I hope to have everything resolved before they return."

"I don't doubt you will."

You saw his mouth twitch up at this, and you felt your chest burn a little warmer.

After cleaning up from dinner you and Raymond continued to sit and talk, new drinks in hand. You couldn't stop your eyes from occasionally looking over at the flowers. You hated how the curiosity burned in your chest.

Finally finding the courage, you spoke, though with reserve heavy in your voice. "Are you doing anything? For Valentines Day?"

Raymond looked at you in silence for a moment before adjusting his glasses "Should I be?"

You shrugged and took a sip of your drink "Well, if you finish this business for Mickey, you could give yourself some time off as well." You motioned your head towards the flowers "Looks like you've already started planning."

Raymond looked over at the flowers and you noticed how he repressed a smile "I have."

Your chest clenched at this. You were hoping he'd deny it.

"That's why I already prepared everything like I said."

"Are you going to tell me about them?" You asked, feigning a smile and curiosity, hoping Raymond couldn't see through it to the pain you were actually hiding.

He sat back in his chair for a moment, seemingly considering if he should. Adjusting his glasses again he cleared his throat.

"I've known them for quite a while now. They aren't what they seem like on the outside. People tend to think there is nothing more to them, but they're always wrong, there is always more."

You could sense pride in his voice as he talked about them and you'd be lying if you didn't feel a little jealous.

"Is that what won you over?" You asked with a slightly joking tone.

He smiled and shook his head "Not just that. It's also their bravery, kindness, skill, willingness to help anyone they can. Not to mention their sense of humor."

You smiled at him "Sounds like they got it all."

"They do. But they don't realize it themselves."

Clearing his throat he stood up and walked over to the table. You watched him closely as he approached the flowers before he grabbed them, bringing them over.

Oh great, was he going to talk about them some more? Are these their favorite flowers? Maybe you shouldn't have pushed.

Walking up to you, he set the flowers down in front of you before he put his hands in his pockets. You could see them more clearly now than before. It was a mix of white roses, dark pink dahlias and light pink peonies.

Reaching up you gently touched them. These were some of your favorite flowers.

"They're beautiful, they'll love them."

Raymond smiled softly in amusement as he gazed down a you. You met his eyes and suddenly felt like you were see through.

"What?"

"There for you, you toss-pot."

You felt as though a jolt of electricity went through you "What?"

"I was talking about you." He smiled a bit wider.

"Y- You were?"

Moving past you, he sat in the chair beside you facing you, his knees pressed up against your leg.

"I didn't invite you to talk work, I just wanted to have dinner with you. And I hoped, somewhere along the way I'd get a chance to give you these."

He could see your brain working in overdrive as you remained speechless, putting it all together.

He continued to smile softly at you before he reached over and placed his hand on top of yours, slowly linking his fingers around yours.

"I hope this stunned silence is not leading up to a rejection."

Finally taking hold of yourself you shook your head. "No, it's not, I'm just really surprised."

"Why?"

You shrugged your shoulders as you smiled a bit bashfully "I didn't think I was your type."

He grinned "You're exactly my type."

Your heart started pounding in your chest as he reached towards your legs with his other hand. You repressed a grin as he turned you so you were facing him, your legs now pressed against his.

As his eyes stared into yours, your ears burned hot. You had never seen him look at you like this. You saw his eyes flick to your lips for a split-second and your heart skipped a beat.

"Raymond?"

"Yes?" He asked softly.

"Thank you for the flowers." You replied with a softer voice.

"You're very welcome." Tilting his head slightly his smile turned into more of a smirk "Now about Valentines Day."

You quirked your brow.

"You are free I hope?"

You smiled and nodded "Yes, I'm free."

"Good, I wasn't looking forward to having competition."

You chuckled and shook your head "No competition. No one could compete anyways."

He smiled and you swore you saw a blush crawl across his cheeks for a moment.

"So, Valentines Day?" You added on.

"Yes. What we will be doing is a secret. I just want to make sure you have the day free."

"The whole day?" You asked with lightly surprise and he shrugged his head. You leaned forward and spoke with a light sarcastic tone "Are you going to try and seduce me Raymond?"

He smirked and leaned in as well "I thought I already had."

You grinned "Bold assumption."

His smile grew as well and you saw his eyes flick to your lips again before his gaze held yours. He moved his face in closer, so your noses were almost touching.

"I suppose I should try harder then."

Leaning in in sync, your lips met and your heart jolted. Raymond's hand quickly rose to cup your face before he cupped your head, deepening the kiss. You laid your hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating heavily. After a second, his other hand come up as he gently place it on top of yours, squeezing lightly.

After a few more moments, you parted, somewhat breathless. Your eyes locked as you both had soft smiles. Bringing his hand back to cup your face, he gently brushed his thumb over your lips as his eyes lingered on them.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time." He said softly before he met your eyes again "And I'd very much like to do it again." He spoke as he slowly leaned in closer.

You smiled as you met him in another kiss, softer and slower this time, as he linked the fingers of his other hand through yours.

xx End xx

Kind of an abrupt ending, but I didn't know where to go with it where it would end naturally lol I hope you liked it!~

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Raymond Smith Taglist: @will-grammer, @venusthepirate

[carni-val]

I’m so excited that you’re wanting to write for Charlie Hunnam again!!!

You’ve written some of my top favorites fics and I’m excited to read more!

As for requests, I’m always going to request Will Miller, haha I love this character too much ☺️ And don’t get be started on Raymond and Jax

I’m not sure if you’re just wanting names of characters or prompts with the names, so I did that 😅 I’m not too good at coming up with prompt though, but here are my requests:

Will Miller, and maybe it’s a continuation of the one where he and the reader are married and he’s distant after Colombia? Like maybe it’s all fluff or maybe it’s a mix of fluff and angst? I love Will but something about him and angst just gets me 😆

Raymond Smith, and what if he and the reader haven’t seen much of each other and one night she waits up for him to talk with him about it? Maybe it’s angst, maybe it’s fluff?

Jax Teller, and maybe he and the reader are married and it’s just about a day that they spend together with the boys? Or maybe he and the reader go for a ride and it’s them having some time alone because Heaven knows that man needed to just sit and have some peace haha

I hope that these were okay to request, and if you’re not feeling any of them that’s all good; I’m all about what you feel up to writing and doing. And if you wanna switch them up or do something completely different that’s cool too, I’ll just love it either way! ☺️

Have a great rest of your week!!! Sorry this was way too long haha 😅

Fork in the Road [Jax Teller]

pairing: Jax Teller x Reader

summary: You spend a peaceful day with Jax for the first time in a long time.

author’s notes: Thank you so much for your kind words and all of these amazing ideas! I thought I'd jump in with some soft!Jax since that is the chef's special around here. This idea did run away from me a bit and it does get angsty, so I apologize in advance but I hope you enjoy this nonetheless. Thank you for requesting!

warnings: Angst, mentions of death, mentions of a car accident, hospital

song inspo: kitchen fan lullaby (raw) - claire boyer | cardigan - taylor swift

Charlie Hunnam Masterlist | Jax Teller Masterlist

The wind on the coastline guides the smell of the sea straight to your nose and ruffles your hair while you breathe in the bird’s eye view of the picturesque landscape in front of you. The gravel on the dirt road crunches beneath your feet as you take a step closer towards the edge to catch the way the sunlight glistens and glimmers against the waves of the ocean that crash against the shoreline in the distance.

“Don’t go too far,” a voice calls out to you a few feet away.

It startles you for a moment but when you turn your head towards the sound, you find Jax mounting his bike a considerable distance away. Elation fills your heart as you squint to get a better view of him and you laugh, despite the confusion, “Why are you so far away?”

From his bike, Jax watches you over his shoulder as you begin walking towards him.

“You had to stretch your legs, remember?” He prompts when you’re just a few feet away from him now.

“Yeah, I think I definitely did that,” you quip as you gesture to the large distance you just filled all on your own.

“I told you I could help with that but…” Jax trails off, wearing a cheeky grin now.

You roll your eyes and try to fight the grin that stretches across your face. Jax’s boyish laugh only makes you smile harder and you can’t resist placing a kiss on his lips. Everything else except for the warmth of his lips on yours and the feeling of his beard brushing against your skin seems to fade out. Everything goes quiet until there’s only Jax.

When you find the strength in you to pull away, he offers his helmet to you.

“You sure you wanna keep riding?” he tests.

You shake out your legs, the usual ache that comes from riding on the back of his bike now nonexistent. You take his helmet and place it on your head, “Where are we going?”

When Jax wanted to be romantic, he pulled out all the stops and more often than not, his thoughtful gestures always come at the hefty price of patience.

Jax leans over and tightens the strap under your chin so it fits snug against you. The light brush of his fingers on your skin causes heat to rise to your cheeks. He notices and smiles before pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. You bite back a grin as he pats the leathery seat behind him on his bike, “Let’s go.”

You climb on eagerly, “This better be good,” you quip but you know a day away from Charming and the madness it contains within its borders is good in and of itself.

Your arms twine around Jax’s waist before you let your chin rest on his shoulder. Your faces are so close that you can just about feel the brush of his stubbly cheek against yours.

With the sudden pump of his leg, the motorcycle roars to life before settling down to a low rumble.

“So, straight ahead or around the bend?” you quiz, nodding towards the fork in the road in front of you.

“You let me worry about that, darlin’.”

You grin as Jax adjusts in his seat. Your eyes find the water again, noting just how blue it looks today. When you face forward again, your eye lands on the rear view mirror where you can see the small smile Jax wears before taking off down the dirt road.

Seagulls soar and squawk into the blue, cloudless sky underneath the steady rumbling of the engine. The salty air of the sea dances in the air as you take a deep breath and nuzzle your cheek further against Jax’s back that’s covered by the soft fabric of his SAMCRO sweater. Your hands lay against Jax’s torso and occasionally, while he’s cruising, he drops one hand to meet yours. His warm, calloused hand tangled with yours is your only anchor to the present moment. Your heart skips a couple of beats when you feel him run his thumb back and forth against your hand. 

You didn’t think you’d ever know peace like this again considering how bad things have gotten in the MC. If you weren’t careful, you’d fall asleep right on the back of Jax’s bike.

Reluctantly, you open your eyes and meet the blue of the ocean again. You pick up your head and sit up straighter, surprised to still be seeing it considering you’ve been driving for what felt like a couple of hours.

Jax glances at you over his shoulder and smirks, “Quick pit stop?”

He nods to the beach below. You follow his gaze, entranced by the way the water splashes against the rocks and sends the foamy tops spilling out onto the shoreline. Although you’re desperate to know where Jax is taking you, you relent and nod anyway.

Sprinkles of cool ocean water land on your face as you lay next to Jax in the sand. He rests on his forearm and peers down at you with eyes that rival the blue of the water a few feet away. Your elbow rests against his shoulder as your hand lazily plays with the ends of his hair. No words need to be exchanged to see the comfort Jax finds in this moment too. He lets his fingertips lazily run over every dip and curve of your cheek while he brushes away a stray strand of hair. Like a cat desperate for pets, you lean into his touch.

“I like it here with you,” you confess.

“It’s beautiful,” he admits with a smile. You’re surprised to see him turn his head to take in the water before he adds, “Really beautiful.”

You recoil slightly in surprise as a cheeky smile spreads across your face, “I never thought I’d hear you talk about the earth’s beauty.”

Jax stays facing away from you for a moment as he swallows the lump in his throat. When his eyes meet yours again, they’re glassy, causing your smile to falter. You cup his bearded cheek, just as he replies, “I never appreciated it before.”

Before you can speak, Jax leans down and presses his lips to yours tenderly. His warm hand cradles your cheek and you give into him in a split second. His soft lips against yours cause your head to spin, and while you don’t know what brought on the sudden emotion, the feeling of his body weight pressing against yours as he begins to relax tells you he found the comfort he was looking for.

Jax pulls back an inch, studies your face and asks, “Are you sure you wanna keep going?”

The blissed out feeling rushing through your veins has you seriously considering his question for a moment.

“You haven’t told me where we’re going. I think I should know so I can make an informed decision.”

A smirk tugs at his lips but he stays quiet. A gleam in his eye appears and you know that mischievous look all too well. Excitement bursts through you and has you springing to your feet, “I wanna see what you’ve got planned,” you decide before taking off running towards his bike that’s parked on the concrete a short distance away.

Joyous laughter spills out of you and only multiplies when you feel Jax’s strong arms encase you and lift you off of the ground. He presses you against his body and smothers any inch of your face he can reach with kisses. Throughout your uncontrollable laughter, you feel the rumble of his chest against your back as he lets out a chuckle of his own. Now that you’re held hostage in his arms, Jax makes sure to take his time walking the both of you back to his bike.

Back on the road, with your arms wound around Jax brings about a special brand of tranquility that only he can provide. It makes this long ride all the more bearable. With your eyes closed, you can feel his back rising and falling gently, bringing your heavy head along with it. His calloused thumb goes back to stroking the soft skin of your hand and it brings a peaceful smile to your face. If you could stay here forever, you would.

As a matter of fact…

You open your eyes to try and find some clue as to where the two of you are headed, but when you find the picturesque landscape of the ocean again, you recoil in confusion. Looking past Jax’s shoulder, you see that same fork in the road: straight ahead or around the bend. Your eyes narrow in on him, “Okay, I don’t know how the hell you’re doing it, but stop stalling!” you laugh over the noise of the motorcycle, “Just take me there already!”

Jax doesn’t reply, he simply takes another right turn instead of continuing down the straight path. “You realize we have to go back to Charming eventually, right?”

Jax keeps his gaze forward and you almost think he doesn’t hear you but when you’re about to call his name, you feel the bike begin to slow down.

“Do you need a break?” you ask once Jax parks the bike in the middle of the empty road. “Let me stretch for a few minutes,” you climb off of the bike and let out a sigh of relief as you walk around. “If you’re lost, you can just admit that, you know?” you poke, “No shame in asking for help.” As soon as you say that though, you realize there’s nobody to ask. There hasn’t been anybody else on the road but you two.

When you stop walking around in circles, you’re met with the frown on Jax’s face. “What’s wrong?” your breath hitches.

Jax hesitates for a moment, then says, “You have to get off here.”

You recoil, looking all around you at the empty expanse, “In the middle of the road? That’s no way to treat a woman, Teller,” you place a sassy hand on your hip and smirk.

Still, Jax’s face holds a frown. Playfulness evaporates and confusion takes its place, “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t take you any further,” his eyes fall to the ground.

“You’re not making any sense,” you try to keep your calm as you feel the sun beam down harder on you.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to spend some time with you,” he shakes his head, getting choked up.

“You are,” you step closer to him, “We are.”

You reach out to cup his face but as you do, he turns his head away and looks forward, repelling your touch. When he revs the engine of his bike, reality sets in. He’s really leaving you here.

“What the fuck, Jax?” you clip, “How am I supposed to get home!?”

“Don’t worry about that,” is all he says before he takes off, down the straight path.

“What the— Jax!” you call as you run after his bike that kicks up dust between the two of you. You try to shield your eyes against it as you try to catch up with him, though you know it’s a pathetic attempt. “Jax!” you cry out again, your chest constricting and eyes filling with tears.

When the dust clears, all that’s left ahead of you is the fork in the road. There’s no sign of Jax but you keep calling out his name. You spin around in every direction, trying to get a glimpse of him — or for anyone for that matter.

Your breathing comes out choppy and a sheen of sweat layers over your body underneath the sun that has become blistering. Your eyes fight to stay open against the sunlight that has gotten brighter and brighter until it becomes blinding. It eclipses the scenery around you and forces you to close your eyes.

When you find the strength to open them again, you see the sun, blurry and moving from left to right.

What the fuck?

You blink a few times and your vision finally focuses on…a penlight.

You wince and turn away from the brightness, “Fuck,” you rasp out.

Your heavy head lolls off to the side where you find an infusion pump standing tall over you in a bleak, white room. It’s not until you see it that you hear it beeping.

A tube is attached to it.

You follow it with your eyes to see the other end of it connected to your forearm.

These aren’t your bedsheets. The pale blue against the sickly white tells you it’s a hospital bed.

When your name is called, you turn your head slowly and carefully against the thin pillow propped underneath your head. Your neck aches but when you finally face forward, you see a doctor standing before you with Chibs and Tig behind him, both wearing relieved expressions.

“How are you feeling?” the doctor asks.

You open your mouth to ask him what the hell is going on, but stop when Tig holds up a hand to the doctor, “Just give us a minute, doc.”

The doctor skims over their kuttes before cutting a glance at you to silently ask is this okay? You nod once and wait for him to leave.

When he does, Chibs pulls up a chair next to your bed and sits down. “How are you, lass?”

“What happened?” you look between him and Tig who stands at the foot of your bed.

“You got in a car accident, honey,” Tig replied from the foot of your bed. “Pretty bad spill. We almost lost you there.”

“Jax.” His name flies out faster than you can piece together why. “Where’s Jax? We were driving together. He was there…” you trail off as you notice the pained looks Chibs and Tig share.

The memory comes flooding back to you: you cruising down the freeway in your car after finally maneuvering through aggravating traffic, some idiot making a last minute decision to switch into your lane, him cutting you off, and then…nothing. The details after that are non-existent, not that they matter since a new weight settles onto your chest, “Oh…yeah,” is all you can say once you realize.

“You had some internal bleeding so they took you into surgery,” Tig continues, navigating the conversation away from that pain point.

“They say you’re gonna be fine,” Chibs assures you despite it, “Just need to rest, is all.”

Disappointment cements itself in your heart as you realize you’ve returned to a world without Jax. The pain still hasn’t budged even though it’s been two years since he passed.

But for the sake of the men standing in front of you right now, you plaster on the best smile you can and say, “That’s good.”

[hoteldreamss]

William Miller || imagine

Метки: флафф

Слов: 209

Ты нервничаешь, когда поправляешь свои волосы. Твоё отражение вполне устраивает тебя, но ты не знаешь уместно ли выбирала наряд. Это должно быть обычным «барбекю» на заднем дворе. Ты наконец познакомишься с друзьями Увилла, которые всё это время были в разъездах или заняты работой, теперь у тебя есть шанс узнать близкий круг твоего жениха.

— Можем ��дти? — интересуется Увилл, появляясь позади тебя, обнимая за талию и прижимаясь к твоей спине. — Чудесно выглядишь.

— Спасибо, — произносишь ты, слегка смущаясь. — Ты тоже ничего.

Увилл не может сдержать улыбку, пряча лицо в твоих мягких волосах.

— Давай, нам нужно идти. А то опоздаем.

Ты отходишь от зеркала, Увилл следует за тобой. Ваша дорога до дома Тома занимает немного, но этого достаточно, чтобы твои ладошки вспотели.

— Ты им понравишься, — произносит Увилл паркуюсь у аккуратного, средних размеров домика.

— Почему ты так думаешь? — интересуешься ты.

— Потому что ты нравишься мне.

— Только нравлюсь? — ты притворно возмущена, когда Увилл переплетает свои пальцы с твоими, смыкая ваши ладони.

— Я люблю тебя, не важно, что они скажут. — Увилл подносит твою руку к своим губам, оставляя поцелуй на тыльной стороне ладони.

Ты тянешься к Увиллу, забирая быстрый поцелуй на его губах. Выйдя из машины Увилльям ведёт тебя, продолжая держать твою руку со своей. Он знает, что ты понравишься всем его друзьям, обратное просто невозможно.

[oskea93]

Request are OPEN!!

So I will have some time off before I start my next travel assignment, so I am in the mood to write! Below you will find the list of men that I can’t wait to write for. I will take request for the actual actor or the characters they play. Please please send me your request 😘

Charlie Hunnam///Jax Teller, etc

Callum Turner///John Egan, etc

Jamie Campbell Bower/// Caius, Horizon, etc

Tom Hardy /// Reggie Kray, Forrest, Johnny, etc

Boyd Holbrook /// Clement Mansell, Cap Hatfield, Cal, etc

[littlemelaninfics]

Ride

Jax Teller x Black!reader

"I'II be right there," Jax sighed as he hung up the phone and got off the couch. He grabbed his keys and headed for the restaurant on the other side of town.

He reached the parking lot and handed me the extra helmet. I used his shoulders to steady myself as I got on the back of the bike. I hung on and he peeled out of the lot and back to his house. On the way, my night replayed over and over again in my head. I hugged him tighter and put my face into his back while I let a few tears escape. I looked to my left and saw the cityscape below the mountain. We made a left instead of a right and cruised down the road. He pulled into his driveway and turned off the motorcycle.

"Why are we here?" I asked as I got off the back.

"It's closer and it's late to go all the way to your place. I can get you an Uber if you want." I shook my head. His voice was kind of monotone, like he had something to say. Jax didn't even wait for me before stalking to the front door to unlock it.

He walked in and headed straight for his bar. I closed and locked the door before meeting him in the other room.

"You're mad at me, aren't you."

He downed the rest of his drink before placing the glass back in the counter, "I'm not thrilled with you, no."

"How can you be like that right now? I'm the one who got stood up in the middle of nowhere.”

"And that's why. I told you that you didn't know that prick. To not shit where you eat and look where you are."

"Fuck you. Now you're just being mean. I just wanted a night with him. He's so sweet and I just don't know what happened."

"No. He was sweet when you met him 5 years ago. People change everyday."

"Yeah that's evident."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean I was expecting some kind of sympathy from you. You know, considering how fucking stupid I looked out there. But no. You have to tell me how right you are and how wrong I am. Basically driving it home that I am fucking stupid. So thanks a lot,” I turned to leave to the guest room when I heard him pouring another drink. I slammed the door and flopped onto the bed, tears streaming down my face once more.

I woke up the next morning with a blanket covering me and noise coming from the floor. I slowly sit up and look down to see Jax there shirtless with his own blanket and pillow, snoring softly. I reach for my phone but drop it against the nightstand, making a loud thud. Jax stirred and opened his eyes with a sigh,

"Morning."

"Hi. What are you doing?"

He sat up and slid his hands over his face and and back through his blonde bed head. He rested his arms on his legs and looked at me, "I didn't think you should wake up alone. Look, I'm sorry for making you feel stupid because you're not. I was pissed at that prick for getting you all excited and then not showing. I hate that I was right. You deserve someone who would travel the world to spend one hour with you. And I'm sorry he wasn't that. I really am.”

I looked down at him and crawled down to the floor. I wrapped my hands around his neck and started to cry a little bit,

"Hey, hey, hey. What's that for? I was trying to make you feel better," he said with concern in his voice. I unburied my face and kissed him on the cheek,

"They're happy tears. Thank you for being my best friend."

"I love you, kid."

"I love you too."

an: whoa! Cali writes fluff!?? Yes. Yes I do ;)

[garrettandoscargirlsblog]

Rooms And Sleeping Positions

Summary: Here is my theory from the ask i put in @rhoorl's box. About the Tf boys rooms,and sleeping positions. maybe just maybe there are others think @rhoorl, me and others thought the same way. Without further adue...

Person can tell alot about someone by The way a bedroom looks. From furniture to the decor. To the colors. So.. let's explore the bedrooms of Delta Force.

Ironhead Miller: 

Nothing special to say about the room. It's simple. Well organized. Few pics of family ,Santi,and Frankie. Neutral painted walls. Green colored sheets,and duvet. Even his favorite childhood blanket from home. Feels safe when he has a breakdown from his nightmares. Few pillows litter his bed. Next to a window is his favorite chair. Oh how much he loves it. Sits in there while he reads his endless books that he collected through the years. Although there is something missing. Someone to help him get through his mental ,and emotional state. Someone to love him. To keep him safe. On a gloomy, rainy day. He is reading a childhood book to ease his mind. Window opened slightly. Wind blowing the cutrians. Getting lost in the book, he didn't know a certain pair of soft hands on his shoulder," Thought you might need some company. I know how this weather makes you feel. " Putting the book. Pulls his guardian angel to his lap. Kiss her temple," Glade you are here my Cherry. Everytime your here. Brightens up my room. Also my very soul. " Cherry does her very best to tend to his needs. By staying over a lot. Before long. Some of her personal stuff appears in his drawers. For an event Will has another episode. 

Few rooms down is Benny's. His style reminds him of his love of sports from his youth. One wall hangs his first pair of gloves given by the love of his life. Next wall hangs a wall hanging of the farmhouse him and Will grew up in. On the nightstand is a picture of him and his baby. His soulmate. Oh how he missed her. Lays in his large bed with black sheets and red comforter. He rairly used since he never gets cold. He uses a light blanket. On another wall he has a mounted TV . Where he watches movies ,and sports. He too loves to read. Has a bookcase filled with books . Nothing military mind you. Not in his space where he wants to forget about that shit. On one nightstand lies a journal. Filled with thoughts from what he has been thinking about to his baby girl. Memories of their time together. 

Since he retired from fighting. He put his  soul in other passion . Singing. On this night  Benny sits on his windowsill strumming on his guitar.Singing softly. Till angelic voice joined him. Trying not to tear up. His love is here. Everything is good in his world. 

Santiago Garcia

Among the boys on the force Santiago Garcia's space is unlike the others. Blackout curtains on all of the windows. 800 count hotel sheets on his bed. Loads of pillows. Especially a body pillow he cuddles when he sleeps. As for personal touches? Not much. Few of his family members ( whom he doesn't talk about much.) Frankie knows why since they grew up together. Other pictures are some places he visited. That didn't cause him to have any bad memories. On his nightstand is a digital picture frame that stores private pictures of him and his special someone. He looks at it so he can rest. Waiting for her return. 

Frankie Morales

If anyone enters Frankie's room can tell he is a pilot. From the pictures to colors.just simple. Like he is now. Unlike he was before. One thing he has in common with Santi is the curtains. He needs to have his room dark so he can sleep. Manuals fills his bookcase. Also some books based on movies he has seen. He too has a pic of a special someone. His daughter who he gets to see from time to time. Bed is so simple the others tease him about it. He doesn't care it's comfortable. 

Sleep positions: 

All of them have weird sleeping positions. Had to do with their Army days. Now? Lets just say it can annoy them to no end. To something strange. 

William Miller: 

He is a side sleeper. Does he stay in one place? Nope! He tosses and turns on nights he has a nightmare. That's why he lays there. Looking up at the ceiling. Thinking about what bothered him. Reason why  he can't sleep through the night. 

Benny Miller: 

Oh the baby of the group. Can find him in different positions. From sleeping on his back to being sprawled out like a starfish. Usually happens after a hard workout. Off chance he has a nightmare? He is on his side clutching a pillow. Pretending it's someone there. 

Santiago Garcia: 

Oh he is all over the place. Different positions throughout the night. Starts out on his side. Then on his stomach.then sprawled out clutching his pillow. One thing though. He hates to sleep on his back.Why? Had to do that after his knee surgery ( yes he had to get one) . Being comfortable is so important to him. Says he needs to catch up on lost sleep. On a rainy day he would sleep the day away. 

Frankie Morales 

Side sleeper without a freaking doubt. Hardly moves . Unless he is having a bad dream where he is either in the middle of the bed, or leaning on the edge. Once he almost fell out of bed when he tried to reach for his phone. When he is in a deep sleep? Nothing can wake him unless someone yells in his ear.

[vinnieswife]

if you write smuts, i beg, anything, whatever that comes to your mind with pete dunham. i love your writing!

Pete dunham x fem!reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: smut! p in v, fingering, unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it!

author’s note: YES, I do write them but I was in my soft era ig??? hope you like it :) Also english is not my first language, sorry for any mistake!

It’s a little past 9 PM when you hear the familiar sound of the key in the lock, followed by the door swinging open with a bang. Pete’s voice echoes through the shared apartment before you even see him.

“Love! You won’t bloody believe it!” he shouts, his voice bubbling with excitement.

You can’t help but smile to yourself, already knowing what this is about. West Ham had their match today, and from the sound of it, they’d won. You barely have time to put down your book before Pete bursts into the room, his face lit up with that boyish grin of his, cheeks flushed from the cold and pure adrenaline.

“We did it!” he exclaims, dropping his bag to the floor with a thud. “3–1, can you believe it? Bloody hell, what a game!”

Before you can even respond, he’s in front of you, grabbing your face with both hands and pulling you into a fierce, breathless kiss. His lips are warm and slightly chapped from the December air outside, but the way he kisses you—like he’s pouring every ounce of his excitement and energy into you—makes you forget everything else.

When he finally pulls back, he’s grinning at you, his nose brushing against yours. “You should’ve been there,” he says, his voice low and rough. “Best bloody match I’ve ever seen.”

You laugh, still a little dazed from the kiss. “I could hear you shouting at the telly before you left. I think the neighbors could too.”

“Let ’em hear,” he says with a smirk, his hands already sliding down to your waist, pulling you closer. “I’ll shout it from the rooftops if I have to. My team smashed it today, and now…” His lips find yours again, cutting off whatever else he was about to say.

This time, the kiss deepens, his hands tightening their hold on you as he presses you against his chest. His excitement is palpable, and it’s contagious; you can feel it in the way his fingers trail up your sides, in the urgency of his movements.

“Pete-” you manage to say, pulling back slightly to catch your breath, but he doesn’t let you go far. His blue eyes are blazing as he looks down at you, his grin softening into something more intimate.

“You’ve no idea how much I missed you today,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low. “You’re the only thing better than a West Ham win.”

The heat between you only builds from there, your laughter mixing with his low murmurs as he guides you toward the bedroom. Pete kicks the bedroom door shut behind him, not wanting anything to interrupt the intimate moment he has planned. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, his eyes roaming over your body appreciatively. "Fuck, you're so beautiful," he murmurs, reaching out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, sensual kiss. It's a kiss filled with love, with longing, with all the pent-up emotion from being apart for the day. His lips move against yours with a tender intensity, his tongue stroking yours with a sensual rhythm.

Pete's hands start to explore your body, sliding under your (his) shirt to caress the soft skin beneath. He maps out the curves of your waist, the dip of your lower back, the swell of your hips.

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the racing pulse he finds there.

Pete smirks against your skin, feeling your body tremble beneath his touch. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes dark and intense as they meet yours. “You are so fucking gorgeous," he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive rumble.

He starts to undress you with deliberate slowness, his fingers brushing against your skin as he peels your clothes away. He takes his time, savoring the reveal of each new expanse of skin, his eyes drinking in the sight of you hungrily. He took off his shirt in a single movement, his hands moving to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans, only leaving his boxers on, he walked you to the bed making you lay down as he settles between your thighs, his arms caging you.

His lips found yours in light speed, soft kisses that transformed into needy ones, both of your breaths ragged, his tongue caressing your lower lip asking for entrance, he gripped your hips making you gasp, using that as an excuse to explore your mouth, his kisses were rough but passionate. He broke the kiss with a soft gasp, his forehead resting against yours.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a familiar heat pooling low in his belly as your fingers danced along the waistband of his boxers, playing with it. “Please Pete…”

Pete's eyes darkened with desire as he heard the needy plea in your voice. "Please, what, babe?" he asked, his voice a low, teasing rumble. "Tell me what you need." His hands slid up your sides, cupping your breasts through the fabric of your bra.

He leaned down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. "Do you need me to touch you?" he murmured, his fingers deftly unhooking the back of your bra. "Or maybe..." He pushed the straps down your shoulders, letting the garment fall away. "You need me to taste you?" His mouth drifted lower, his lips brushing over the swell of your breasts. He could feel your heart racing, your breath coming in soft, needy gasps. It spurred him on, urged him to touch you more.

He moved his hand between your thighs, his fingers brushing against your slick, heated flesh. "Fuck love, you're so wet," he groaned, feeling your arousal coating his fingers. He circled your clit with the pads of his fingers, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves. "All this, just for me?" His other hand slid up your side, cupping your waist.

He slowly eased a finger inside you, groaning at the tight, wet heat that enveloped him. "bloody ‘ell," he murmured, starting to pump his finger in and out, shallow thrusts that gradually deepened. He could feel your walls fluttering around the intrusion, drawing him in deeper. His thumb found your clit, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nub as he added a second finger, stretching you open. You moaned grabbing his shoulder, crescent moon shapes adorning his skin. A soft red tint painted your and his cheeks, the passion warming up the room. He curled his fingers just right, stroking that perfect spot deep inside that made your toes curl.

His thumb rubbed firm, quick circles over your clit. He groaned, his own arousal growing with each needy sound that fell from your lips. He could feel himself getting harder, his cock straining against the confines of his boxers. He leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your soft cries of pleasure. His tongue delved into your mouth, tangling with yours. He could feel your body starting to tense, your walls beginning to flutter around his fingers.

"Come for me, love," he encouraged, his voice a low, urgent growl against your lips. "Are you gonna come apart in my fingers, mhm?" He rubbed your clit harder, faster, his fingers plunging deep and curling just right. Pete could feel your body tensing, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps against his lips. "Yes, that's it... come on," he urged, his fingers moving faster, determined to bring you to that peak of ecstasy.

He could sense you were close, your walls starting to quiver and clench around his plunging fingers.“Pete… god” your nails scratched his back, marking him, as whimpers escaped your throat.

With a few more deep, targeted thrusts of his fingers and a particularly hard press against your clit, he felt your body go rigid. Your back arched off the bed, your head thrown back in a silent scream of rapture as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. He could feel your walls clamping down around his fingers as you came hard. He worked you through it, his fingers never stopping their relentless assault, drawing out your pleasure until you were boneless and spent. Pete gentled his touches, slowly easing you down from the intense high. "That's my girl," he murmured.

Your hand wandered down Pete’s chest caressing his skin with the tip of your fingers until you reached the waistband of his boxers, pulling it and making it smack against his skin, you saw his abs contract, his eyes closed as he grunted. “Are you enjoying this?” You teased, knowing how he would react. Finally your hand touched him where he needed it the most, you palmed him through the fabric of the boxers, his arms faltered as his hips jerk forward into your touch. "Fuck-," he groaned, his voice strained with need. The friction of your hand rubbing over his clothed length sent sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. He knew he needed more.

His hand slid down to grip your hips, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh. You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and began to tug them down, he hissed as his aching cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach. Pete shuddered as your fingers wrapped around him, a low groan escaping his lips. "Oh fuck, yes..." he hissed, his hips rocking into your touch, seeking more of that perfect friction.

His hand slid down to grip your thighs, squeezing and kneading the soft skin as you stroked him. He watched through hooded eyes as you worked his length, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He could feel the pleasure building with each pump of your fist, the heat pooling in his belly. He knew he wouldn't last long if you kept touching him like this. "I need to be inside you," he said, his voice low and urgent. He gently moved your hand away from him, he angled his tip towards your entrance,and with a swift, hard thrust, he buried himself inside you, hilting deep in your heat. “Fuck, love” he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as your walls clenched around him like a vice. Your body felt incredibly hot despite the cold weather outside, he could make you feel like no one does, feeling his short breath in your name sent shivers down your spine, your hands found their home on his back, feeling his muscles tense and contract.

He paused for a moment, savoring the feeling of being fully sheathed inside you, peppering kisses down your neck and shoulder. Then, he began to move, pulling out slowly until just the tip remained inside, before slamming back in, burying himself to the hilt. He set a hard but slow pace, the bed creaking beneath you with the force of his thrusts.

He could feel the tension building at the base of his spine. He wanted to feel you come first, wanted to make this amazing for you. "Come on, darlin’," he encouraged, his voice a low, urgent growl. His hand snaked between your bodies, finding your clit, rubbing calculated and tight circles, determined to push you over the edge. His hands did wonders on you, the circles on your clit, his pants of your name in your ear, the way is cock nudged at your sweet spot perfectly.

Your body was tensing, your walls starting to flutter and clench around his pistoning cock. He could feel his own release barreling towards him, he shifted the angle of his hips, making sure to hit that sweet spot deep inside with every powerful thrust. "I'm so close, I can't..." he panted, his breath hot against your ear. “Fuck Pete, right there…” your eyes were shut, the pleasure to much to bear it.

With a sharp cry of you his name, your body went rigid beneath him as your orgasm crashed over you like a tsunami. Your velvet walls clamped down around his pistoning cock, gripping and fluttering as you came. Your nails leaving red trails on his back. The sensation was too much for him to withstand, and with a hoarse groan of your name, he followed you over the edge.

Pete's hips jerked and stuttered as he buried himself to the hilt inside your spasming heat, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he spilled himself deep within you. His body shuddered above you as the intense pleasure consumed him, you could feel the muscles on his back tense, your name falling from his lips in a litany of bliss.

Finally, with a last weak groan, he collapsed against you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He panted harshly against your neck, his skin slick with sweat, his heart racing in his chest. You two lay there trying to catch your breaths. “If this is what i get, the West Ham should win more often,” you giggled caressing pete’s short hair, you could feel him giggle in your ear, before leaning in to kiss you again. This time, it was slower, more deliberate, as if he wanted to savor the moment.

You sighed contentedly, your hands sliding down to rest on his shoulders. “Pete,” you whispered, feeling his lips curl into a smile against yours.

“Hmm?” he hummed, his hands caressing your cheek lovingly.

“I love you,” you saw his grin widen, as he attacked your face with kisses. “And I love you even more, love.”

As the evening stretched on, you couldn’t help but marvel at how the simplest things—like a stupid West Ham victory—could bring so much joy. His happiness is infectious, and tonight, you don’t mind letting him show you just how much he’s celebrating.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Show Off

Sons of Anarchy Masterlist

Contains: Fluff, smut (voyeurism, exhibitionismf, fingering, praise kink, Dom Jax, P in V)

2.9K words

When an arrogant prospect takes it one step too far, Jax feels the need to teach him a lesson.

Jax watched you at the bar, smiling and glad handing all the visiting sons. He was grateful that you were there playing the diplomat while he got down to business. He didn't miss the way you would glance back at him every now, it had taken a while but you had developed a kind of silent communication that he found invaluable.

He had learned that you were very good at picking who was going to last and a look in your direction after you chatted with a prospect was always very enlightening.

Right now, he was in the middle of getting an update from the President of a visiting charter, the man going on and on about how hard it was to find good recruits, "I fucking tell you, that prospect over there, I give him another month before he's tossed out on his ass."

Jax huffed, "why isn't he gone already?"

The look he got told Jax all he needed to know, "he's a legacy, his dad was one of the first men picked to run a chapter who wasn't first nine."

Jax scoffed, "well, if he steps wrong here, we'll get rid of him."

"Can I buy you a drink?"

You raised your water and turned to the man behind you, this must have been the prospect you had heard all the others complaining about, "I have one thank you, can I help you with anything?"

He smiled, "yeah, let me buy you a drink."

You sighed, "I have one, I'm also married."

He licked his lips, "hey, I'm up for anything and it's not like I see your man around."

You pointed behind you, "because my man is Jax Teller and he's busy. Now, if you need companionship, I suggest you find Mr Padilla and see if he can find a lady to spend the night with."

He leaned in closer, resting his arm on the bar, "hey, I don't discriminate. I'm sure he has fun too."

You blinked, "yes, we have fun together because we are in a loyal and loving marriage. Now I would like you to turn around and walk the other way, I have nothing else nice to say to you after you've said such nasty things about the man I love and my marriage."

Jax was paying more and more attention to you as he watched you stiffen, "is that the fucker you're talking about?"

The noise from the visiting President's mouth gave Jax all the information he needed, "yep, is that your old lady?"

Jax took a sip of his beer, waiting for you to wave him over, "yep. Don't worry she can handle herself."

There was a huff from his friend, "let's hope so because this guy needs to learn his lesson."

Trying to get him to go away was fast becoming a fool's errand, "I know you ladies think he's pretty and all but guys like that are shit in bed. I bet he just does what he wants. Me? I listen."

You took a deep breath and stood up, "no you don't and since you can't listen, I'm going to go over and sit in my husband's lap so you fuck off." You waved to the prospect behind the bar, "three fingers of that fancy scotch, please, on the rocks."

You were handed the drink and without even looking at the man who had spent the last five minutes hitting on you, you walked over to Jax, pressed your lips to his, handed him the drink then sat in his lap with a smile.

"Sorry my love, I couldn't stand to be parted from you a moment longer so I thought I would come over. I brought your favourite to say sorry in case I was interrupting."

Jax chuckled and pecked your cheek while wrapping his arms around your body, "nah darlin, I was about to come over and grab you anyway. Are you having fun?"

You shook your head, "not really, there's a new prospect that needs a good punch in the mouth. He seems to think you're no good in bed and he thinks he can do better."

The smirk on Jax's face was downright diabolical as he called the man over, "are you into my old lady prospect?"

To your surprise, he smiled, "who wouldn't be? I mean, she's the hottest piece of ass here."

The look on your face grabbed Happy's attention and he walked over, "everything alright, boss?"

Jax sucked on his tongue, "everything's fine Hap. The prospect here was just telling me how nice my wife's ass is, ain't that nice of him?"

Happy's face was unreadable, "I don't think it's appropriate to be talking about a lady like that, especially not the wife of the leader of this Club."

Things went from bad to worse when the prospect smiled wider, "hey you know who my father is. I grew up in a Clubhouse, all these bitches are up for grabs unless they're knocked up."

Jax huffed and turned to the other man, "you were right, he is a problem."

You thought for a moment, sure Jax could beat the stuffing out of him but that wouldn't really teach him a lesson, "my love?"

Jax turned his attention to you, his arm tightening around you, "yes darlin?"

You did your best to hold back a smile, "I was very offended that he thinks you're a poor lover, I'm actually quite mad about it."

Jax pressed his lips to your neck, "are you now?" He turned to the prospect who still clearly thought he wasn't making a huge mistake, "what are you going to do about making my lady mad?"

He shrugged, "I think that's your problem, the women I know who get fucked right are never mad."

Jax clenched his jaw, something dark coming to the surface, "well then that settles that, how about you come in and watch me fuck her brains out and if I'm as bad as you say I am, you can tell the whole fucking Club."

This man's audacity seemed to have no end because he smiled, "sure, if you need some pointers."

Jax stood up with a smile, taking your hand in his, "are you alright with this darlin, you say the word and we can go home and enjoy the night all the ourselves."

You knew Jax wasn't going to let him touch you, this was about Jax showing off. The prospect was going to be lucky if Jax didn't make him face the wall and put his nose in a corner, "I'm fine with it, he clearly won't listen to either of us so maybe he's so dumb that he needs to see it with his own eyes. But maybe we should stay under the covers, I don't want to make the poor boy feel inadequate, that can really harm a man's self esteem."

Jax smiled, "you should thank her for being so kind to you."

The prospect wasn't interested, "are we doing this or are we just going to talk about it?"

You could tell by the tone in Jax's voice how pissed he was, "you can back out at any time man, don't stay because you think you have too. Hell, I'll make stay until your patch vote no matter what."

He huffed, "I ain't going anywhere."

Jax took your hand and you walked into the dorm with the prospect in tow. Jax locked the door and directed you to the middle of the room before turning to the prospect, "you can sit in that chair. And don't even think about putting your hand anywhere near your dick, that wasn't part of the agreement."

He did as he was told, the gravity of the situation still not sinking in as Jax stood in front of you and leaned in to kiss you. You soon forgot about the interloper as Jax kissed you senseless. You started on your top button while Jax shrugged off his kutte and placed it over the back of another chair, coming back as your shirt fell open.

He slid his hands under the fabric and placed them on your waist, leaning in to kiss your neck as your head fell to the side to give him more access. His hand moved up to slide the shirt on your shoulder and you reached out to unbutton his blue flannel.

Jax's flannel came off and he pulled back so you could pull his SONS T-shirt over his head, Jax smiling as your eyes racked over his bare chest. The chair shifted and Jax looked over, the prospect suddenly realising that Jax was far larger and stronger than he was. Jax turned his head with a smirk, "you can go man, we ain't keeping you here if you're feeling insecure."

The man huffed, "I'm fine thanks."

Jax turned back to you, pressing you to his chest as he reached down and removed your jeans, you following suit after you palmed his growing bulge. Jax didn't have your shyness and he shoved down his boxers and his hard cock sprung free.

The smile on your face was automatic, as was your hand reaching out to wrap around the shaft. Jax grunted, his eyes filling with lust as you started walking backwards and kissed him. Jax ran his hand from your ribs to your back, undoing your bra before pulling back while you wrapped your arm around your body to hide your nakedness from the stranger on the other side of the room.

Jax spun you around so your back was facing the prospect, your crow on full display, then threw back the covers but not the top sheet and with a smile and a gentlemanly gesture, he was holding it open for you to climb inside. You lay down on your side, your back facing the other man while Jax got into bed next to you.

The prospect couldn't see your skin under the sheet but it was clear from the movement under it that Jax was running his hand up your leg. There was more shifting as he lifted your leg over his hip, then his hand emerged from the sheet to throw your panties away and you placed your hand on his ribs, the muscles rippling under your skin as he breathed.

His hand went back under the sheet and to your centre as he ran two long fingers up and down your slit, "you're very wet for me darlin, you want to tell me why?"

You smiled and brushed his lips with yours, "I'm always like that when I'm with you."

Jax chuckled, it was full of ego, "oh, I know. There's no way he's getting you like that."

You kissed him again, "not in a million years, it's all you my love."

Jax's thumb found your clit as he slid two fingers inside you while you buried your head in his neck. He didn't waste any time working you up, his calloused fingertips brushing your G-spot as you gasped. He looked at you, then flicked his eyes to the other man, a plan forming in his brain as he pushed you closer to the edge.

He pressed his lips to yours and you rocked your hips into his hand, his thumb picking up speed as the prospect shifted again. Jax pulled away, just far enough that he could speak to you without anyone else hearing, "you still want to keep going? I can feel how close you are."

You smiled, "he can't see anything."

Jax smiled back and kissed you hard, swallowing your moans as you came around his fingers. Jax didn't stop, removing his lips from yours in time for you to let out a desperate but soft cry as you fell over the edge again, "good girl." Jax didn't even look at the man as he spoke, "you ever have a woman make that sound for you prospect?"

There was no response, the situation finally taking hold. Jax turned his attention back to you, "give me one more then you can have my cock." His fingers slowing for a few minutes to get you over the almost painful overstimulation, his lips soft on yours as his beard scratched your skin.

When your twitching faded, his lips moved to your neck and his fingers sped up again. You moved your hand from his ribs to wrap around his shaft and jacked slowly as he wrung another orgasm out of you. You had a bit more trouble keeping you quiet this time, but his expression told you he didn't mind.

He pulled his fingers from you and sucked them into his mouth, moaning around them as your taste coated his tongue. He pulled his fingers away and his hand found your face as he kissed you, tasting yourself on his lips while he rolled on top of you.

He pulled back and looked into your eyes, his chest pressed to yours to hide your body from the other man, "you good darlin?"

You nodded, "I'm great, are you?"

Jax smiled softly, "I'm great, you want me to get rid of him?"

You looked over at him, the prospect turning away when your eyes landed on his face, "it's up to you. If you think he's learned his lesson, then you're more than welcome to throw his out on his ass."

Jax looked over at the man, it was all predator and dominance, "I don't think he has but he can leave if he wants. He knows where the door is."

"I'll stay, it ain't like it's hard to fingerfuck a woman." You couldn't tell what was pissing Jax off more, the disrespect to you and your marriage or the disrespect to him as a lover and as his President but something about the expression on his face told you it was the former.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and Jax settled between your legs, rubbing his cock up and down your slit before sliding inside you with a kiss on your lips. The shuddering moan you let out was matched by the groan that came from Jax, there was a growl to it that gave you the urge to sink your teeth into his shoulder.

You buried your head in his neck as his hips started to rock. He started slow, grinding into you while you ran your hands up and down his back. Your breath caught in your throat as he angled his hips to brush your G-spot while one hand shimmied between you to rub your clit.

"Jax please."

He smiled and kissed a path from your neck, across your face and to your lips, kissing you softly juxtaposed to how his hips were now ramming into you. You pulled Jax even tighter to you as the end neared, stuck between waiting to continue kissing him and wanting to refresh the ever present love bite on his shoulder. Jax made the decision for you as a particularly punishing thrust had you sinking your teeth into his flesh to muffle your moan as you rocketed over the edge.

"That's it, my good girl, you feel so good." Your whimper only served to spur Jax on as he turned to face the prospect, "have you learned your lesson?"

There was no response and despite the fuzziness of pleasure clouding your brain, you couldn't help but turn your head to see what he was doing. There was something on his face, it was hard to pin point if it was from being proven wrong or the fact that he thought Jax was going to kill him when this was over so he didn't share this experience with anyone.

Jax had triumph on his face at his vanquished foe. The prospect was no longer cocky but deflated, "look at the fucking wall. You don't even deserve to be in the same room as my woman, let alone get to look at her."

Jax turned back to you as you rocked your hips, matching Jax's pace as his grunts became more urgent. He bit down on your lower lip as he came, moaning your name like a dying man.

He breathed against your lips, smiling softly as he shifted his hips to pull out of you. He didn't roll away, deciding to stay holding you for a little longer, "I love you darlin."

You pecked him, smiling against his lips as he rubbed your nose with his, "I love you too."

Jax turned to the prospect, his voice a mask of calm rage, "get the fuck out."

He stayed frozen to the spot, "did you not hear me? Get the fuck out, I don't want you here anymore." He only started to move when Jax started to pull away from you, you imagine the thought of Jax beating the life out of him naked was enough to get him moving.

The door slam had you jumping and Jax pressed soft kissing into your skin to soothe you, he rolled off you and took you with him, pulling you into his arms, "did you have fun?"

You nodded, "yep, I forgot he was there most of the time."

Jax chuckled, "good."

You pressed your lips to his chest, "are you alright? You still seem revved up."

Jax chuckled, "I'm just excited for round two without someone looking on."

You smiled, "well in that case, I better go get us some snacks."

Fin

[hotdamnhunnam]

On Your Knees (fic teaser)

UPDATE: This fic is now posted!

A/N: Hello my dears! It’s been a minute since I’ve posted on here. I still intend to be inactive for the most part, BUT of course Kai has stolen and broken my heart, and this “on your knees” gif struck at my inner slut 💘 So here we are! This is a teaser for a fic that will have lots of smut, while also giving Kai some backstory that I feel he deserves and I wanted to share what I’ve got so far!

“On your knees.”

It’s been forever and a day, since you last laid your eyes on Kai. Since then you’ve searched for him across the whole entire fucking sky. Whatever words you had expected him to say… you never would have dreamt of these.

On your knees.

The blood in your veins is on fire; it burns as the blue of his gaze starts to freeze. The blaze rises higher, so desperate to melt down this fortress of ice that you hadn’t believed you would find. Paid the rumors no mind—he’s a bounty hunter or a gun for hire, who would sell his soul to any well-paying buyer, or so everybody agrees—yet you’ve come here to seek out the true heart of gold that you know lies behind. But all gold can be sold and it seems that he’s taken his fees.

And now he’s set on taking whatever he damn well may please.

Your voice escapes your throat pathetically. “Kai, it’s me…”

Cocks his head. Lifts his brow. Silent laughter at what you just said. Obviously. But who you are doesn’t mean shit to him now. “Aye, I see.”

You might just choke. The heart that never once stopped beating for this godforsaken rogue just fucking broke.

He snickers down as if the beating of your heart is just a joke. The curl of those cruel lips holds even more force than his words. And that’s what brings you to your knees and makes you weak, so weak it hurts, as he comes close and rests his palm against your cheek, piercing your soul straight to the core with just one stroke.

Straight to the core. Summon what strength you have to speak, unsure whether the vows that you once made have any value anymore. “I’ve come back to you just as I swore…”

“Of course,” he utters as those ice-blue eyes seek out and strike the deepest truth in yours. “You’ve come to me just as you were before: still nothing but a worthless fucking whore.”

--- End teaser ---

If you’d like to be tagged in this fic if and when I post it, just let me know! I don’t plan to tag my full taglist since that list was from aeons ago 🙃

As always much love to all of my fellow Hunnam hoes! 💕

[charmingsoa]

✶ Where the Wild Things Are: Three ✶ ■ 1960s Sons of Anarchy story ■

⌃ Jax Teller/ OC x Thomas Teller/OC ⌃

Warning: Please read with caution. This story will include: drug use, physical, verbal, and sexual abuse. miscarriages, sexual content, alcohol use, homicide, cursing, etc. ★ If You would like to be tagged in future updates, simply leave your username in the comments.

Taglist: @oskea93, @keyweegirlie @ravennaortiz @ghostlyteacups @yelchinweasleylothbrok

“What does that say?”

As I strained my eyes to decipher the hastily scribbled grocery list, a sense of curiosity mingled with apprehension crept over me.

"Molasses?" I muttered to myself, puzzled by the seemingly random assortment of items the guys had jotted down. Gemma had entrusted me with the task of procuring supplies for the party scheduled for that evening, a gathering that seemed to hold a special significance for the denizens of the club.

Rumors circulated among the women who frequented the garage that the impending celebration was not just any ordinary affair; it was, in fact, a veiled homage to the enigmatic figure of Thomas Teller, the unspoken son whose presence loomed large over the club. Despite my three-month tenure in Charming and my proximity to the club, discussions regarding Thomas Teller were few and far between.

Gemma, with her characteristic candor, would occasionally broach the subject of Thomas, only to be met with stony silence from Jackson and Clay. The mere mention of the younger Teller seemed to evoke a palpable discomfort among the group, shrouding his identity in a cloak of mystery and intrigue.

As I raised my head from the perplexing grocery list, a deep voice jolted me out of my reverie. My gaze met the steady, yet kind eyes of a tall man standing beside me, his presence commanding attention in the bustling store.

"Need help with something?" he inquired, his tone warm and inviting.

Surprised by the sudden interaction, I stammered, "Excuse me?" My confusion was met with a reassuring smile that never wavered from his face as he gracefully moved closer, exuding an air of confidence and authority.

His uniform, crisply tailored and adorned with a gleaming gold star, hinted at a position of respect and responsibility. The badge on his chest caught the light, casting a radiant glow that seemed to illuminate his aura.

"You just looked a little lost – need help finding that item on your paper?" he offered, his offer of assistance genuine and sincere.

With a chuckle, I glanced back and forth between the kind stranger and the jumbled list in my hand. "No, just trying to read chicken scratch is all," I admitted with a smile. "I'm just guessing at this point and hoping I'm right."

As the stranger's eyes crinkled with amusement and he chuckled softly in response to my comment, I offered a small word of thanks before turning the corner, the cart's wheels protesting with a squeak under the pressure of my push. The aisles of the store seemed to stretch endlessly, filled with the soft hum of shoppers and the occasional rustle of products being restocked.

"Miss, wait—" the man's voice called out, his body swiftly catching up to me moments later. His voice was gentle yet insistent, prompting me to pause in my tracks as I glanced back at him.

"I didn't get to catch your name?" he inquired, his eyes holding a glint of curiosity and warmth.

I hesitated for a moment, struck by the unexpected turn of events and the genuine interest in his question. With a soft smile, I turned fully towards him, the aisles of the store fading into the background as our brief encounter took center stage.

"Oh, um –“ I stumbled. “Catherine. My name is Catherine.”

His smile widened. “You got a last name, Catherine?” His eyes sparkled with mischief; a playful glint that made my heart skip a beat.

His smile causing me to smile back, “Yeah, it’s Landry. Catherine Landry.” The air between us seemed to crackle with a newfound energy, a connection forged in the unlikeliest of places.

“Well Catherine Landry, I know everyone in this town, and I never laid my eyes on the likes of you. Wanna tell me how that happened?”

I watched as he politely acknowledged the older woman that walked past us in the aisle – the woman greeting him as Sheriff Hale.

I shuffled nervously on my sandaled feet, feeling a mix of apprehension. "Oh, well, I got here about three months ago," I began, noticing his eyes narrowing in curiosity as he listened intently.

"I was actually on my way to San Francisco, but a group of bikers picked me up and brought me here, and I've been here ever since."

He stayed silent for a moment, his expression unreadable as he leaned against the shelf, absorbing my story. "Bikers? You talkin about the Sons of Anarchy?" he inquired, a hint of recognition coloring his voice.

I nodded my head, "Yeah, I've been helping out at their garage, and Gemma and Clay have been letting me stay at their place until I can get on my feet. Everyone's been real friendly," I shared, a warmth in my voice as I spoke of the unexpected hospitality I had received.

A loud sigh escaped from the sheriff's pursed lips, his expression turning serious as he leaned his head back. "Darlin—" he began, his tone weighed down with a sense of caution. "Nothin' about that group is friendly – trust me." His words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow of doubt over the rosy picture I had painted in my mind.

A confused look floated over my face, uncertainty creeping into my thoughts as I processed his warning. "Especially when it comes to the Teller family and their band of goons," he added, his gaze steady and unwavering.

The atmosphere between us shifted palpably, the once easy camaraderie giving way to a tense undercurrent as the sheriff's words lingered in the space between us. His close proximity, once a source of comfort, now felt stifling, the weight of unspoken truths hanging heavy in the air.

"Well, when they pick a random girl up in the middle of nowhere after she was abandoned by some asshole in the dead of night, I think that's pretty genuine of them. Especially since they never asked for anything in return," I retorted, my voice tinged with a hint of disdain.

As I stood there, the sheriff's gaze piercing through me, I felt a surge of defiance rising within me. The bond forged with the bikers, flawed as it may be, held a sense of authenticity that transcended the sheriff's warnings and doubts. In a town where secrets whispered in the shadows, I clung to the glimmer of connection and acceptance that had found me in the most unlikely of places.

 "All I'm sayin is for a beautiful girl such as yourself, those men, the Teller brothers included, want nothing more than to use you for their own satisfaction and then spit you out when they're done with ya," His words cutting through the charged silence like a knife, his warning ringing in my ears with a chilling clarity

"I've seen it happen too many times to count – I would hate to see you get hurt,"

In response, I deadpanned, my voice low and steady, "I don't need you to worry about me, Sheriff Hale." The words slipped from my lips with a quiet resolve, a hint of defiance coloring my tone.

Who knew that those words would come back to haunt me in the coming years. That I would come to rely on Breckon Hale when everything around me and my unborn daughter was falling apart and people were dropping left and right…

I stood off in the corner as the party was in full swing, observing the lively scene unfolding before me. Gemma, the life of the party, moved with effortless grace, her magnetic energy drawing people towards her like moths to a flame.

The hang-arounds as Gemma called them clung to random members, kissing and rubbing themselves against them in full view of those around.

The air was thick with the mingling scents of alcohol and weed, creating a heady mix that added to the party's vibrant atmosphere. Some guests sat at tables, their focus on white lines meticulously arranged in front of them, lost in their own world of ephemeral highs and fleeting escapes.

Meanwhile, I found myself nursing the same bottle of beer for what felt like an eternity, content to observe from the sidelines. The pulsating music throbbed in the background, a constant reminder of the lively energy that enveloped the room.

My gaze drifted to Clay, a towering figure with a presence that commanded attention. His strong arm draped lazily over Gemma's shoulders as they weaved through the crowd, engaged in animated conversations with various partygoers. There was a familiarity in their interactions, a silent understanding that spoke volumes about their shared history.

Sitting in the dark corner of the room near the exit, I couldn't help but notice Jackson Teller and his imposing friend, Opie. Their presence exuded a certain aura that drew the attention of those around them. I observed as they engaged in conversation, their camaraderie evident in the easy way they interacted with each other.

Jackson, or Jax as he was known, seemed to have a magnetic pull on those around him. I watched as he would momentarily disappear with different girls, only to reappear after a few minutes, his charm and charisma leaving a lasting impression. The younger women seemed drawn to him like moths to a flame, captivated by his rugged good looks and confident demeanor.

Despite having been a part of the scene for three months, my interactions with Jax had been limited to brief exchanges in passing. There was a certain enigmatic quality about him that intrigued me, a sense of mystery that shrouded him in an air of intrigue.

“He’s a looker!”

I jumped at the unexpected sound of Tig's voice, my heart racing as I turned to see him take a seat next to mine. His words cut through the air with a casual confidence, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he spoke of the irresistible allure of Jackson Teller.

"No girl, woman, hell even man, can resist looking at that handsome fuck," Tig remarked, his tone laced with a mixture of admiration and jest as he leaned back, taking a swig from his bottle. A laugh escaped him, the sound blending with the ambient noise of the party.

I attempted to feign interest in the wall behind him, but Tig's keen perception saw through my guise. His knowing gaze bore into mine, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a knowing smirk. "You should see the younger Teller if you think Jax is hot shit," he continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. "That little fucker can run circles around his brother in the looks department, and that's saying something."

My curiosity piqued at the mention of the elusive Teller son, Thomas. Tig's description painted a vivid picture of a young man exuding an unparalleled confidence and allure. "Thomas has an arrogance about him, worse than his brother," Tig mused, his words tinged with a mixture of amusement and admiration. "Even a nun would drop their panties for that son of a bitch."

"Isn’t this party for him – for Thomas?" I inquired; my voice tinged with curiosity as I met Tig's gaze. His nod confirmed my suspicions, the once jovial expression on his face giving way to a more somber demeanor.

"Yeah," Tig began, his tone carrying a weight of significance. "Gemma throws one every time she gets even one word that Tommy may be heading home – this is the fifth one so far this year." His words painted a picture of anticipation and longing, the repetitive nature of these gatherings hinting at a deeper yearning for the return of the elusive son.

I shifted my gaze towards Gemma, the matriarch of the Teller family, her radiant smile illuminating the dimly lit garage. Her watchful glances towards the entrance betrayed a mix of hope and apprehension, her maternal instincts on full display as she awaited the possible return.

Tig's next words drew my attention back to him, his mention of the underlying drama between the three of them casting a shadow over the festive atmosphere. "There’s a lot of drama between the three of them – Clay being the main denominator," he revealed, his words hinting at a complex web of relationships and conflicts that lay beneath the surface of the seemingly celebratory occasion.

"How so?" I pressed, unable to resist the pull of the unfolding drama, even as I acknowledged my status as an outsider, a mere stranger who had stumbled into their world by chance. Their familial intricacies were none of my business, yet the allure of the untold story was too compelling to ignore.

Tig reached for his cigarettes, offering me one in a gesture of camaraderie. I politely declined, opting to watch as he lit his own cigarette, the tendrils of smoke curling lazily into the air. "For starters," he began, his words punctuated by puffs of smoke, "Clay and John – the boys' father – were good friends. They were the ones who initially started the club." My curiosity deepened as Tig delved into the history that bound these characters together, shedding light on the origins of the tangled web of relationships that defined their lives.

"Well, they both had a thing for Gemma," Tig continued, his tone carrying a hint of admiration. "Which I can't say I blame them because she's fucking gorgeous." His candid remark added a layer of complexity to the already intricate dynamics at play, hinting at unspoken tensions and unrequited desires that simmered beneath the surface of their shared history.

"When Tommy and Jax were small – I think Jax was 12 and Tom was around 9," Tig continued, his voice laden with a somber tone that echoed the weight of the past, "John caught Gemma and Clay in bed together. It was obvious that they were fucking around behind John's back," Tig's words cut through the silence like a knife, laying bare the ugly truth that had festered beneath the surface for so long.

"One thing led to the other and Clay ended up shooting John point blank out behind the clubhouse." My hand instinctively flew to cover my mouth, a gesture of shock and disbelief as the enormity of the revelation washed over me. Tig's gaze remained fixed on the floor, his silence speaking volumes about the weight of the burden he carried, the knowledge of a dark secret that had shaped the lives of everyone involved.

Before I could utter a word, the rhythmic click of Gemma's heels echoed across the room, drawing my attention away from the tumultuous thoughts swirling in my mind. As she approached where Tig and I sat, a subtle shift in his demeanor was unmistakable, his features softening at her familiar presence. With a tender gesture, Gemma leaned down and planted a delicate kiss on Tig's stubbled cheek, a gesture that spoke volumes of their shared history and unspoken understanding.

"She's a bit too young for you, Tiggy," Gemma remarked casually, her words carrying a hint of playful admonition. In that fleeting moment, a glimpse of their intricate dynamic unfolded before me - a mix of affection, protectiveness, and perhaps a touch of possessiveness. Tig's response, a wry smile tinged with affection and a hint of defiance, revealed a complex interplay of emotions beneath the surface.

“I can look but I promise I won’t touch.” He sent a wink my way before letting Gemma have his seat.

We both watched as he walked towards the older crew, smiling and flirting with the women around. “He’s something else that’s for sure,” Gemma smiled, her eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement.

I just nodded my head, Tig’s claim still buzzing around in my brain like an annoying fly. “Heard you had a run-in with our trusty sheriff today,” Gemma remarked casually, her gaze piercing as it met mine.

Her words caught me off guard, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of unease at the thought of being watched. “I have eyes all around this town, sweetheart. You didn’t think I would let you go to the grocery store without someone following, did you?” Gemma's laughter rang out, sending a shiver down my spine.

I nervously tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, trying to appear nonchalant. “I didn’t realize he was the sheriff until some lady spoke to him. Is he someone not to talk to?”

Gemma's expression turned serious as she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “He may wear the badge, but not all that glitters is gold in this town. Be careful who you trust, darling. Not everyone has your best interests at heart,” she warned cryptically, her words lingering in the air like a warning bell.

I slowly leaned back in my seat; my gaze still fixed on the older woman. “Why?” My voice a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

She turned to look at me, her expression unreadable. “Why what?” she countered, her eyes searching mine.

Choosing my words with caution, I asked, “Why can’t he be trusted? He is the sheriff of the town; shouldn’t that count for something?”

Gemma let out a sigh, her features softening slightly. “Being the sheriff doesn’t always guarantee trustworthiness, my dear. In a place like this, power can be a double-edged sword. Not everyone wields it with honor and integrity,” she explained cryptically, her words laden with a weight I couldn't quite comprehend.

"Breckon comes from a family that has been very powerful for many years, and they don’t like the fact that a new powerful family has moved into the area – this club has more power in its pinky toe than the whole police force has in all its arsenal. We, this club, protects this town – Clay, Tig, and Jax – they are the ultimate kings of Charming," Gemma explained, her voice laced with a mix of pride and caution.

She paused, her gaze intense as she took my hand in hers, the weight of her words sinking in. "And honey, if you play your cards right, you can be the queen Jackson needs," she added, her tone soft yet filled with an underlying sense of urgency.

The guy had barely said a handful of words to me in the past couple of months, and here Gemma was talking about how I could be his queen.

“I don’t know Gemma?” I pulled my hand away, feeling a mix of confusion and apprehension creeping over me.

Her features started to harden as she fixed me with a piercing gaze. “Like I told you from the beginning, I see a lot of myself in you. I was a runaway, lost and searching for my place in the world, until the club found me. I became the woman I am today because of those men, and I see that same potential in you. I can shape you to be the next great queen – the wife, mother, and far into the future, grandmother that Jax and the next generation need.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, and my heart pounded in my chest, unsure of what to make of her proposition. “You’re young – you’ll be able to learn everything there is to know very quickly,” Gemma continued, her voice firm with conviction. “Just be faithful and know your place – be the old lady that your husband needs – deserves. Bow down to his every wish and command.”

As her words echoed in my mind, I felt a mixture of fear and fascination at the prospect of stepping into this role that Gemma saw for me. The weight of her expectations and the legacy she spoke of loomed large before me, leaving me to ponder the choice laid out in front of me – to embrace this path and all it entailed, or to forge my own destiny apart from the shadows of the past.

“I’m a total stranger to you guys – some little runaway,” I stammered, trying to push back against the weight of Gemma's expectations. "You can’t seriously consider me to be the next big thing for this club, for your son. Surely you have someone else lined up for such a spot?"

Her earrings tapped against her neck as she shook her head, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “You’re it, kid,” she replied, her voice filled with unwavering certainty. “From the moment my son laid eyes on you, I knew that you were the girl for him. He may not say much in person, but the way he gets when you’re around, it tells me everything I need to know.”

My eyes strained as they stared at the floor, the weight of Gemma's words causing my head to spin. “I uh-“ I quickly stood up, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over me, threatening to pull me into its disorienting embrace.

“Doll, you okay?” Gemma's voice cut through the haze; concern etched on her features as she rose from her seat.

I softly pushed her away, my movements unsteady as I tried to regain my composure. “Yeah, I just, uh, I just need some air,” I mumbled, my words coming out in a shaky whisper as I turned towards the door, desperate for a moment of respite from the intensity of the conversation.

Stepping outside into the cool night air, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, the sensation of the breeze against my skin a welcome contrast to the heaviness that had settled within me. The sounds of the club faded into the background as I focused on grounding myself, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions and expectations that had been thrust upon me in such a short span of time.

As I leaned against the wall, the faint glow of the moon casting a silver sheen over the scene before me, I couldn't help but wonder where this path would lead me and what kind of choices lay ahead. The world of the club and the role that Gemma saw for me loomed large in my mind, a daunting and uncertain future stretching out before me like an uncharted territory waiting to be explored.

The gravel crunched under my shoes as I kicked the rocks around, the sound echoing in the quiet night air, a hiss slipping past my lips as one stubbornly became lodged underneath my foot.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, a surge of frustration coursing through me as I pressed my body against the cold exterior of the building, seeking a moment of respite from the discomfort. Bending over, I hastily unbuckled my shoe, the darkness around the garage enveloping me like a shroud.

The area surrounding the garage was cloaked in shadows, the absence of light so profound that it felt almost suffocating. In the inky blackness, shapes morphed and merged, playing tricks on my eyes and heightening my sense of unease. It was in this darkness that I sought refuge, hiding from Gemma and the weight of her expectations that bore down on me like a heavy burden.

“I wouldn’t be kicking those rocks if I were you.”

The deep voice sliced through the stillness of the night, causing my body to shoot up in surprise, my heart racing in my chest as the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder, heralding the presence of an unseen figure. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as a chill ran down my spine, a sense of apprehension settling over me like a heavy cloak.

As the tall shadow emerged from the darkness, my breath caught in my throat, uncertainty and fear mingling in the air between us. The figure loomed before me, their features obscured by the veil of night, a silent and imposing presence that sent a shiver of unease down my spine.

The mysterious figure's long, disheveled blonde hair swayed slightly in the night breeze, framing his face in a wild and unkempt manner. Strands of hair partially obscured his features, adding to the air of enigma that surrounded him.

His attire spoke of a ruggedness that matched his imposing presence. The dirty jean jacket draped across his broad shoulders, its fabric worn and faded from time and use. The jacket seemed to carry unseen stories within its frayed seams, hinting at a life lived on the edge of society.

Beneath the tattered jacket, a pair of ripped jeans covered his long legs, the denim worn thin in places, revealing glimpses of skin underneath. Each tear and fray in the fabric seemed to tell a tale of hardship and survival, of a journey marked by hardship and struggle.

I struggled to find my voice; my words caught in my throat as I met the gaze of this mysterious stranger. "Pardon?" The word slipped out of my mouth, barely more than a whisper in the stillness of the night.

As the figure moved closer, his presence looming over me in the dim light, a knot of fear tightened in my stomach. His voice was low and gravelly, carrying a hint of menace that sent a chill down my spine.

"The rocks—" he began, his hand reaching for the cigarette between his lips, a faint ember glowing in the darkness.

"They've been known to put shards of glass in the rocks," he continued, his gaze unwavering as he spoke. "Don't ask me why, but they find it funny when one of you broads end up bleeding like a stuck hog. And don't even bother asking them for help," he continued, his tone grim and foreboding. "Because they'll just wave you off like a piece of trash."

I looked down at my bare foot, the warning from the mysterious figure still ringing in my ears. His words had cast a shadow over the carefree evening, injecting a sense of unease into the night air. My gaze flicked back up to meet his, a mixture of skepticism and gratitude in my eyes.

"Thanks," I muttered quietly, my voice tinged with uncertainty. Quickly, I bent down to buckle my shoe back on, the mundane task grounding me during the strange encounter. With a deep breath, I straightened up and began to walk back towards the distant sounds of laughter and music from the party.

Just as I thought I had left the enigmatic figure behind, his voice reached me once more, stopping me in my tracks. I turned back to look at him, a questioning expression on my face as he spoke again.

"You looked pretty bored in there," he observed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Gemma—" He shook his head, a wry smile on his face. "She can suck the life out of ya sometimes."

As the mysterious figure's boots crushed the rocks underfoot, his tall frame loomed over my shorter stature, his presence casting a shadow over me. I instinctively took a step back, a mix of unease swirling within me.

His words painted a picture of the party I had just left, now tainted by his cynical observations. I felt a surge of defiance rise within me as I bristled at his insinuations.

"You don't really wanna go back in there, do you?" he questioned, gesturing towards the lively gathering. "Have to listen to Gemma talk your ear off or have one of those grown pigs try to get you into their bed."

His words cut through the night air like a knife, highlighting the darker undercurrents of the social scene before us. My gaze followed his motion towards the partygoers, a sense of discomfort settling in the pit of my stomach.

"Or are you trying to get Jackson Teller to notice you like all the rest of the females in this town?" he continued, his tone laced with a knowing edge. "He has a bedpost full of notches, sure you wanna be one of them?"

The audacity of his words fueled a fire within me, igniting a spark of anger that blazed to the surface. "What the fuck is your problem?" I shot back, my voice sharp with indignation.

He merely shrugged his shoulders, the smirk still playing on his features. "I know how women work, especially when they get around my brother."

[midnight-serendipity]

Better than the Fantasy: Chapter Three

 Pairing: Jax Teller x Female OC (AU - Older Man, Younger Woman, College Girl, Secret Identity)

Rating M: (Sexual Content, Violence, Swearing, Mentions of Drugs, Mentions of Alcoholism, Mentions of Marital Issues)

Synopsis: Freshly exonerated and newly-minted president, Jax feels out of touch with everything around him, and somewhere amid the hullaballoos, he lands himself in an online site, enticed with the company of a masked stranger, who unknowingly had closer ties to the club than both of them could have ever guessed.

Word count: 7.7k

Chapter 3: Lace and String

Observant blue eyes rounded the table, taking in the set of somber faces surrounding it. Gone was the jubilant air that swirled around the clubhouse three nights ago. In its stead was a heavier, despondent mood. The club president didn’t need a mirror; he knew he reflected his brothers’ expressions. He sighed, just before his blues passed a not-so-new addition to the table. There, sandwiched between Happy and Juice, and looking a helluva lot like he’s just brought home the gold was Kip. Yeah, Jax heard he got patched while some of them were in Stockton.

That’s some good news for a change. 

He didn’t know how many church meetings the kid had already been to. Judging by the all-too-pleased smile that certainly looked out of place, Jax guessed not much. Stifling a laugh, he moved on with his scrutiny.

Despite the Antarctic treatment from his girlfriend, Jax slept like a baby Friday night. Thanks to Gemma’s pep talk. Feeling like they were all in need of a much-deserved rest, the prez decided to push church further. Not that he reaped any wins from his own good deed. With Tara very much hung-up on her ice throne the whole weekend, Jax decided to shift his sights back to the club. With each new day, the gears of his brain drove themselves to exhaustion as he struggled to weave the threads of his thoughts into something bigger – clearer. And as each day ended, it took with it a little of the bravado he earned Friday night. So much that when he woke up this morning, that air of confidence swirling within his veins was flatter than a popped balloon.

Fuckin’ hell. What do I bring to the table?

And that was when his hopes started spiraling downhill. Down to the cold tiles of his bathroom. Because what kind of president held his very first church with no agenda?

Jax Fuckin’ Teller it seemed.

Although it wasn’t because he didn’t know what he wanted for the club – that was actually the easiest, simplest part. Going back two years ago, it was still clear as day how he had first brought in talks about the club getting out of guns. Not everyone was swayed with the notion. But their then-VP was confident that eventually, he could get the whole table to his side.

That, however, was before the whole of Charming PD swarmed into their clubhouse like bees to honey and had the half of them cuffed. Now, still reeling with the aftermath, Jax was clueless as a newborn bub. Not only did his plans crash and burn to the ground faster than a Boeing gone defunct, but all avenues in his pocket were already as outdated as Unser.

Then, there was the Cartel and he knew a simple sorry ese wasn’t going to cut it with them.

But even if he didn’t know where to begin this time around and even if his ideas kept going in circles, he owed it to everyone in this room to try. Again, his eyes surveyed the room, this time meeting each of his brothers’ gazes. One by one they tipped their chins in silence. In trust. In blind faith.

And that was the fuel to his fire.

He let out an exhale and straightened in his chair, placing his palms on the table. “First thing I wanna say is congratulations to our brother Half-Sack for gettin’ the patch.”

The entire room erupted in cheers. Tig, Chibs, Kozik, Happy and Juice drummed their right hands on the table, while Bobby just reached over and clapped Kip on the back.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t here, you sorry sack o’shit. I woulda voted no.”

Opie’s shoulders shook as he chuckled, while Jax shook his head in amusement at Tig’s declaration. Ever the sport, Kip just waved him off with his hand.

“A’ight, calm down you animals.” Jax called out. “Now each of us here are all aware of what happened the past two years. We’ve all taken hits, all because of the man who used to sit in this chair.”

And just like that the momentary uplift was sucked out of the room. Inevitably, Jax’s gaze was drawn straight forward. He watched as a dark look shadowed Piney’s face and gave him a nod. Everyone knew he and Gemma swallowed the most bitter pill than the rest of them.

“But I want to thank you all, especially – Opie, Chibs, Happy, Piney and Kozik, for lookin’ after the club.” Another round of cheers echoed. “Before some of us went to Stockton, I told the club we should move outta guns. I still feel the same way and after everything that’s happened, I know this is the best time for SAMCRO to finally act on it. The money is great. But givin’ it a closer look, we barely earn anythin’ and with the cartel loomin’, the threat to us is greater than ever. I want us out of guns and if it was up to me SAMCRO woulda been out of it way before.” He paused, meeting each and every single pair of orbs. He caught Bobby’s smirk of smug approval, Piney’s tip of head and the proud tilt of Opie’s mouth.

“But I am not and will never be Clay. Even if I feel this is what’s best for the club, I will never take your right to vote. If you ask me right now how I’m planning to do that, I’m gonna be honest with ya – I don’t have a fucking clue yet. But just because nuthin’s set in stone yet doesn’t mean it’s not gonna happen. Because I really believe we can move past that. But only…only if you all want that as well.” Jax paused just to let all of that sink in. Seeing some gestures that he was sure were sloping towards the affirmative, he took a little breath then went on.

“We can vote on that later on. Now for the cartel,” Jax shifted, right elbow on the arm of his chair and tipped his chin to the left before resting it on his thumb and forefinger. “Bring us up to speed, VP.”

After taking a drag from his stick, Opie motioned for the lone ashtray from his father who was nearest to it and snuffed the light out. “With half of SAMCRO in Stockton, we were forced to honor the cartel’s demands and hauled their cargo. We always made sure we were in twos. Safer that way. None of us liked it, but –”

“Best way to keep the blood out of Charming.”

Opie nodded an agreement to Bobby.

“With only four of us to mule, they okay’d to just half of what Clay had agreed to.”

“How gracious of ‘em,” Tig muttered sarcastically, drawing grins and chuckles of the same nature from ‘round the table.

“But none us ‘ere privy to that agreement.” Chibs aired what was floating on everyone’s mind.

“Oh, they know that brother, they just don’t give a shit.” Opie huffed.

“Because that’s the point, son. None of us are supposed to know.” Piney pointed out.

“Yeah, we know, Pop.” Opie shifted, turning his attention to the head of the table. “Torres ‘n Parada came by last week, knew you were gettin’ out.

Lighting up his own cigarette, Jax stiffened and his brows furrowed. This was news to him. He puffed, letting the smoke billow out of his mouth. “TM?”

It was Happy who answered. “Cara Cara.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. Spooked Lyla and the girls.” Opie shook his head. Displeasure was evident on his face as he recalled witnessing a smug Parada with an arm around his uncomfortable old lady.

“What they say?”

“They wanna talk to you, go back to the original arrangements.”

“They know this is just a temporary thing for us.” Bobby retorted with a slanted brow.

“That’s why they want to speak with the prez, convince him of a more permanent setting.” Opie answered.

“’S not gonna happen.” Jax spoke with finality and an air of authority that could only come from the holder of the gavel. An action that didn’t go unnoticed by the oldest member of the club. Piney smirked in approval.

Jax rubbed his free hand down his face and took a long pull from his stick. His eyes landed at the middle of their table. They remained silent, giving him a needed moment to gather his thoughts. Then with another breath, he focused on his best friend.

“They finally say who helped Clay mule? The load they want, ain’t no way Clay was movin’ alone.”

“Nah.”

“Our guess is Cacuzza. He’s always wanted to venture on narcotics,” Chibs piped in.

“He answered any of our calls?” At the shake of heads, Jax felt a crippling hit. But he shook the tendrils of disappointment that started to weave in his chest. He needed to unravel the truth first before drawing up conclusions. “How ‘bout the Mayans? Heard anythin’ ‘bout them?”

“They’re in Lodi mostly. They’re wantin’ to branch out.”

Jax released a breath of smoke. “Still? So they haven’t yet?”

Opie smirked. “Darby bailed.”

“Alvarez is damn pissed.” Kozik chuckled, contagious to most of them.

Brows deeply furrowed, Jax shifted in his chair, surprised by this turn of events. Around two months ago, word through the grapevine was Darby had partnered with the Mayans. It stirred things up and caused quite the unrest, particularly with the Chinese and the Niners.

In his mind, this latest move didn’t make sense. Even before his latest imprisonment, he recalled how keen Darby was to associate himself with someone or someones who had quite the pull and weight on the streets. Particularly any that could match SAMCRO in either brains or brawn. The way Darby saw it, this was the guaranteed opening for his inky tentacles to coil inside Charming. This reasoning was what led Jax to anticipate the Mayans with no mistake.

So why the hell would Darby turn? Unless…

“Lemme guess, the supplier Darby was supposed to hook ‘em up with was a flake.”

“Aye.”

Jax tilted his head to his SAA. In the dimly lit room, Jax’s eyes glinted and even if he tried, he couldn’t refrain from smirking. A silver lining, if anything. “Good thing we know of a reliable pipeline.”

Chibs stiffened beside him. “Jackie, d’you think that’s a good idea? Mayans have beef with us –”

“Alvarez and Clay had beef. Not the Sons and the Mayans. I think it’s time we reach out to Alvarez, let him know there’s a new regime now.”

“D’you think they’ll meet with us?” Juice asked.

Jax breathed another drag from his stick. “We could always ask Nero to set up the meet.”

“And if he doesn’t agree?”

By the smirk on Tig’s lips, Jax could tell he already knew the answer to his own question. “Then we rope in Gemma.”

“Good luck sayin’ no to the artillery.” Another round of chuckles filled the room at Opie’s statement.

“We could get a feel on where the Mayans land on all these first, then we make the call to the Kings.” Collective nods were directed his way.

“Now before we get to the vote. I need you all to understand, if we do decide to move away from guns, we’re sayin’ goodbye to the club’s bread n’ butter for the past decades and our finances will probably hurt from that. I need you to take that in before we vote. But first, speakin’ of finances, heard our resident weirdo wants to share sumthin’ with the club.” Jax tipped his chin to Kip. Kip stood up and stepped out without question, he was after all, the first one Chucky approached.

Tig rubbed a hand down his face. “Maybe he’s goin’ to tell us he’s part leprechaun.”

Opie brought it to his ear – Chucky wanted to speak to the Club about finances, when he was asked about it however, he said he wanted to wait for the prez and the rest of the club. Jax admittedly had a slew of names reserved for Chucky. But Jax did admire him for his respect for him and the club. The door swung open again, as Kip swept in, followed by Chucky, each of them hauling massive duffle bags.

Jax killed his smoke and looked around. He was met with equally stunned faces. 

Opie stood up, towering over everyone. “What the hell – ”

Zip.

“There are still two bags in my dorm. But each has fifty grand in them, so that’s two hundred in all.”

They were all on their feet even before Chucky finished his explanation. All of them staring at the open bag, with wide disbelieving eyes. Because just as he said, the bag was overflowing with stacks of hundred-dollar bills.

“Jesus, all real,” Bobby passed the wad of cash he fished and inspected. Jax took it with no hesitation and examined it the way Bobby had, Chibs and Tig both curiously looking over his shoulders.

“Yes, it is,” Jax confirmed, awed, passing it to Ope.

“I think you’re wrong, Tig. Chucky’s not part leprechaun. He is THE leprechaun you sonuvabitch! C’mere!” Kozik exclaimed, pulling Chucky into a one-armed hug.

“Hey! Don’t maul him yet. We’re gonna need some answers first.” Jax called out. Kozik immediately let go of Chucky.

“A’ight,” palms on the table, Jax leaned in and eyed Chucky, looking every bit the investigator. “As pleased as I am with cash suddenly sproutin’ in the clubhouse, I need to know where this,” he tilted his head, “came from. And no, I am not buyin’ the leprechaun shit.”

Chucky very visibly gulped and Jax hoped it’s only because of him and the three Reaper kuttes standing closest to their president while they all stared him down, and not because of something else.

“Well, you remember the night Clay left?”

Unintentionally, Jax’s nostrils flared. Of course, he remembered. That was the night leading to the day of their arrest. The night Clay almost, almost got Gemma killed with his bare hands.

“Of course,” Jax replied with venom in his voice. He didn’t mean to. But he understood perfectly why Chucky recoiled a bit at that.

“Hey, don’t worry,” Juice suddenly materialized beside Chucky and drew an arm around him. “We won’t beat you up unless we have to,” Juice grinned.

“That’s…reassuring.”

“What about that night Chucky?” Opie stepped in. He knew he needed to take the reins. Leaving it to Jax might send Chucky straight to a coronary before they could get anything sensible out of him.

“I was in Gemma’s office, finishing an errand for her. I just shut the lights off when I saw her SUV coming back. I assumed it was her, but when I saw Clay got out, I hid. Something didn’t feel right. He went to the garage, came back out with two bags and went inside again for the other two. He just finished loading everything when Gemma arrived.”

Jax straightened up, arms crossed and teeth clenched. He knew what part was coming. He’s heard it many times. Didn’t make it any easier.

They were all supposed to be out for a gun delivery. Clay, claiming his hands made it difficult to ride, said he couldn’t make the four-hour travel. No alarm bells were triggered as he stayed back, they knew his hands had been acting up as of late and Jax easily stepped in as acting president. The cortisone was barely doing anything anymore – at least that was what he said. Unknown to them, he set out for a meet of his own. Borrowed Gemma’s SUV, on the ruse of dropping by Unser’s office.

It took them a couple of days after that to get the truth ironed out. But Gemma was ahead of them. Although her theory was off some points, still she figured out something was amiss before anyone else did. Turned out, he had been borrowing her vehicles quite some time already and her assumption was a mistress. She placed a tracker in all her wheels, and that night, Gemma thought was the perfect timing to confront him, with the sons out and Piney helping Lyla watch over the kids – no blood will be shed.

“They were busy fighting and the trunk was still open, so I took a peek in the bags. With all of you away, I knew it wasn’t club business. And when I found out it was real money, I moved fast, grabbed them and emptied them in the garage.”

“And Clay didn’t notice that the load was much lighter?” Piney asked, unconvinced.

“He didn’t check it again. And…it actually might have been a little heavier. I replaced it with some tools and bike parts –”

“The missing supplies!” Kip exclaimed.

Jax pictured it. He remembered Sack going on about some supplies TM ordered a week prior to that, that had suddenly vanished into thin air. But with Gemma unconscious in the hospital bed and Clay suspiciously MIA – that had been the least of his worries, even more so when David Hale dropped by with his minions, a warrant on hand.

“And Clay never saw you?” Opie pushed, still quite unsold on the idea.

“Well, he was,” his eyes darted to Jax quickly then back to Opie, “busy.”

Jax snarled, making Chucky flinch. “You mean to tell me, that not only did you have this cash lyin’ ‘round for two years, but you also let Clay pound my mom’s face as distraction?”

“Look, Jax, what was I supposed to do? I can’t throw a punch like you guys. If I interfered, I would have been worse off than Gemma. I just thought I could retaliate in a more effective way. Y’know absolute advantage.”

Put like that, Jax did see from his perspective. While not stock thin as Rat, Clay would have definitely snapped him like a toothpick. Besides, what best way to hurt Clay the most than to take what he worked hard for, right under his very nose. He just wished he witnessed Clay’s face when the rug under his feet was pulled.

“Does make sense,” Bobby echoed Jax’s thoughts, then added, “but why are you only telling us now?”

“I did want to tell the club the next day. But – ” Chucky tipped his head side-to-side, reminding Jax of an upside-down pendulum.

“Yeah we get it – ” Jax replied

Chucky nodded, “Then when you guys got framed, I guessed that was cartel money. So, I hid it and decided to show it at a safer time.

“Where yeh hide it?”

“Ah, I may have asked Unser to hold on to it. Said it was a Club favor.”

Again, Jax’s eyebrows jumped. There were whistles – Juice, Opie and Chibs, while Tig slowly shook his head in time with his hands clapping. Chucky smiled and gave out a breath of relief. He knew he was off the hook.

“Chucky, you are turnin’ me on right now.”

This time, it was Chucky’s eyebrows that went through the roof. “I don’t accept that.” He said with a shake of his head.

“Oi, don’t scare ‘im off.”

“What?” Tig asked Chibs with his palms open. “It’s not like I’m not gonna use some lube and I’mma make sure he gets off too.”

Chucky cringed “I still don’t accept that”.

Tig opened his mouth but Jax cut him off easily, with a finger pointed his way. “Knock it off Tiggy. Go rub one out and stop traumatizin’ people.”

“As for you,” Jax went to Chucky and laid his hands on his shoulders. He tipped his chin, “Go tell my mom we’re givin’ you a raise.”

When her eyes crossed while going over one line of the purchase order she was currently reviewing, Gemma knew it was time to call it a day. She dropped the document on her desk, pursing her lips. Despite TM being open all days of the week, Gemma still found truth to Monday being the shittiest.

Gemma removed her glasses and massaged her eyes with the heel of her palms. Fuckin’ piece of shit lighting.

Well, totally her fault for putting it off. Definitely need to have it replaced. She stood up and stretched. Her back echoed with a series of cracks. And this shit of a chair too.

“Dammit is everythin’ here a piece of crap?” Gemma turned around, taking each item in inventory. It had been a while since she put in more than her usual work hours, and definitely more than a while since she observed every little thing in this room. Her musings were disrupted by a loud, unmistakable roar of a Harley Davidson speeding towards the garage. Curious, she turned and opened the door of the office.

The biker still had his back to her while he parked and killed the engine. But he didn’t need to turn around in order for Gemma to know who it was. The blonde streaks peeking underneath the helmet was more than enough of an indicator. Propping her hip against the doorframe, Gemma glanced at her watch.

7:09 PM

Luann was seriously late. But that wasn’t important. No. Right now, what’s essential for her was to figure out what her son was doing back at TM. Jax and the rest of SAMCRO parted ways for the day just around four o’clock this afternoon and with all of them still occupied with their personal shit, she knew his return wasn’t club related. Plus – Gemma’s eyes narrowed into slits – that backpack, that wasn’t there when he left, triggered the alarms in her head. When he finally unfastened his helmet and turned around, spotting her for the first time since his arrival, Jax very visibly groaned, strengthening her theory further. 

Well, glad to see you too shithead.

She tipped her head to the office and turned on her heel.

Jax had to do a double take of the lot. But no, he wasn’t going mental – Gemma’s SUV was indeed nowhere to be found. So why the hell was his mother still here?

Once again, Jax could only groan. After his row with Tara, he didn’t have enough energy to deal with the Russian Roulette incarnate. But he’ll be damned much more if he didn’t follow her. Stepping foot into the small confinement, Jax felt he was heading to his execution as he was met with Gemma leaning onto the table, her arms crossed, and face seemingly carved in stone.

“Where’s your truck?”

“I had Rat and Kip take it home. Luann’s gonna pick me up for dinner.” She tipped her chin, “my assistant manager came in here, sayin’ we’re givin’ him a raise.”

“Yeah,” Jax answered, “fifteen percent seems fair. We can cut five each from TM, Diosa and Cara Cara. Whaddaya think?”

“He’s employed by TM only. He just likes to loiter.” Gemma pointed out.

“So? C’mon, Ma, work your magic. I’m sure it’s just like launderin’,” Jax asked, irritated.

Gemma sighed. Before he pitched the idea to the table, she was the first one he told that he wanted the club out of guns. It made sense. But with this kind of thinking, Gemma wondered how fast these dickheads would make a legit business go belly-up. It seemed she needed to sit them all down for a talk of some sort.

Businesses tend to do that shit.

Jax nodded dropping his pack on the ratty couch. He felt his mom’s eyes on him as he sat down. He propped his elbows on his knees, hands clasping together as he looked up and met Gemma’s stare. She raised an eyebrow.

“Are you gonna tell me, or are you gonna make me ask?”

Jax rubbed his hands over his face then sighed, resuming his previous position. This was the part of the conversation he knew he won’t be able to tiptoe his way around. “Just need to put some distance between me and Tara.”

Gemma huffed, raising both her hands in disbelief, before landing on her hips. She straightened, stepping away from the table, she strutted towards him and left only a few inches in between, forcing Jax to lean back and raise his head.

“Look, Ma, s’not a big deal.”

And maybe those were the wrong words to say as Gemma’s eyes sharpened, and if there was truth to the phrase if looks could kill, they’ll be holding his funeral tomorrow.

“Not a big deal my ass, Jackson!” Gemma exclaimed, completely rebutting his attempts at defusing. “Before you went inside, I watched this happen almost every day. That was two years ago. Are you tellin’ me that’s how it’s gonna be again? –”

“ – ”

“ – ‘Coz if you think that’s in any way normal, I’m tellin’ you it’s not, and it ain’t acceptable either. You haven’t even been back for a week!” Gemma finished in one breath, ignoring his mouth that slid open during her tirade.

“You done? Can I say somethin’?” Jax demanded more than asked, not bothering to mask his annoyance.

It was times like this that had him wondering if his mom was truly one and the same person, because he was having one helluva difficult time believing this tyrant was also the same person who comforted him in the rooftop just a few nights ago. It made him remember a way, way younger version of him asking if his mom’s ability to do a three-sixty in a drop of a hat was normal. The ear-pinch that followed convinced him to never ask that again – at least when she was in hearing range.

“Look, Ma, I know it’s not normal, alright? Why d’you think I choose to stay in my dorm?”

Gemma’s arms crossed, frosty gaze still focused on him. “You tell me, sweetheart. ‘Coz last I checked, I paid half of that house as a gift to you and not to Tara!”

“So what am I s’pposed to do?” Jax asked, arms wide open. “‘Coz I don’t think havin’ her sleep in the clubhouse is the right thing to do here.”

“Then have her check in at a hotel – Jesus Christ, why is this our problem?” Gemma threw her hands up looking way beyond exasperated.

“Because she’s still my girlfriend!” Jax bellowed.

Gemma stilled for a moment and raised an eyebrow. All of a sudden a smile that looked nothing short of triumphant slowly spread on her face, hands on her hips once more “Well, I don’t care sweetheart. In my book you pay for it, it’s yours. S’your right to stay in there and not hers.”

Jax sighed, running a hand through his hair. Gemma was only saying these because she never approved of Tara. If it was any other given day, she and Luann will be preaching how they should be treating their women with more respect. But whatever. The beginning of a throbbing in his temples was a telltale sign of an unforgiving headache if this dragged any longer. He had to switch gears.

He stood up, reaching for Gemma’s shoulders. “Look, Ma, I know you’re only lookin’ out for me, and I really appreciate it. But it’s not helpin’, so why don’t you just let me handle my shit with Tara, a’ight?”

The icy chill that resurfaced on her orbs made it known to him that he should have worded it out much carefully and differently. Shit.

“ – ”

“Knock knock, doll you ready to – Oh, hey Jax,” Luann’s smile dimmed as her eyes slid between the mother-son duo. “Is everythin’ alright? Sorry, am I –”

“Everything’s fine, sweetheart,” Gemma answered, smoothly stepping out of Jax’s hold, taking the time to put a smile on her face as she flipped her bangs with the tips of her fingers.

Jax could only follow her lead, mourning the lost chance of redeeming himself. He’ll try to find it later, preferably with no bystander. No undeserving soul needed to be within Gemma’s sights when on a warpath. He finally turned to Luann, taking her in.

She was wearing fitted jeans and tucked into it was a white – or maybe silver – button down made from a shimmery, silky material. The top few buttons undone. She had a blazer on top of it, and finished the look with a pair of ankle boots. He heard about it from his mom. Apparently, the porn director had been making a fuss about her wardrobe recently, saying she needed to upgrade – whatever the hell that meant – it now that Cara Cara was said to be rising up the ranks in the industry.

But if this was upgrading, Jax had to admit it was doing her wonders.

“Hey, Lu,” Jax motioned to the newcomer with his left hand. Luann took the invitation with gusto, fitting into his side easily as he wrapped an arm around her.

“You look great,” Gemma said.

“Thanks,” Luann smiled.

“Amelia?”

Instantly Luann’s face brightened as she nodded. Jax frowned in curiosity, juggling his memory for an Amelia.

“Who’s Amelia?” he asked in surrender when he didn’t find any.

“Oh, she’s my niece. She’s good with clothes.” She explained with delight.

Jax removed his hold on Luann, crossing both arms on his chest instead as he took a step back, content to be a fly on the wall as the two women talked. With the way her eyes lit up as she proudly talked more about her niece helping with – again – the upgrading of her closet to an interested Gemma, Jax guessed this Amelia was something special to Luann.

“She’s got great taste,” Gemma hummed.

“That she does. Otto’s loving the recent changes with my outfits as well.”

“Oh right, you had your conjugal –”

Jax snorted, and maybe he should have held it in. Because in his opinion once a month was still too few a chance to get laid. Well, not that he was getting much action aside from his own hand lately. But…

Best to leave that detail unannounced.

“What?” Luann asked puzzled.

Jax shook his head. “That’s why you look fresh. You got fertilized.”

Luann’s eyes rounded. “Oh, you are such a prick,” she threw a punch out. But Jax was already anticipating it, moving on reflex he just easily sidestepped and moved out of harm’s way.

“Tell me about it. He seems to be havin’ a field day.” Gemma sassed.

“Oh, c’mon Ma –”

“Hey, Gemma –”

Jesus, was this let’s interrupt Jax day? 

They all looked to the direction of the voice, finding Chucky peeking from the door leading to the garage.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry, I know we’re closed but it’s important,” he said, looking every bit as apologetic as he sounded. “Phone. Wilkins. Subaru.”

“Of course, he calls right now after I waited the whole day,” Gemma fell into step and moved to the side.

“Oh, you can transfer it here Jax and I will just –”

“Nah, it’s okay. You two just keep chattin’ I’ll take it here”

Luann turned around after Gemma disappeared. “What’s that about?”

“Nuthin’”

Luann looked at him pointedly. “Really?”

“Just you know, Gemma bein’ Gemma.”

“Hmm. How’re things at home?”

He should’ve known it was pointless to try to keep Luann at arm’s length. At certain times, the woman was just as bad as his mother when prying. Although a milder version. Thankfully.

“Tense.”

“I guess that’s what you were arguing about?”

“Yeah”

She drew an arm around him and rubbed his back. The same way his mother would. “What’s wrong sweetie?”

He shrugged. “I guess we’re just not seein’ eye to eye lately.”

Luann nodded in understanding. “Y’know, your mother doesn’t like being ignored.”

Jax snorted. “Tell me sumthin’ I don’t know.”

Luann just smiled again and shook her head. “Well, you better get ahead of that ‘coz I’m afraid that’s gonna bite you in the ass sooner than later. But what I’m sayin’ is, maybe your mom has been makin’ a point ‘bout you and Tara, but you haven’t been listening to her. I mean when was the last time you referred to Tara as your old lady?”

Jax stiffened, surprise evident on his features.

It was one of the things that often knocked on his conscience, and honestly still quite a mystery when in particular it happened. But every time he tried, the image of Lyla and Tara tending to a wounded Tig would flit in his mind. Tara with the eyes and hands of a surgeon, was methodical and precise in her approach. He remembered watching from the sides as she worked, impressed. After all if it weren’t for her skill and knowledge, they would’ve certainly needed to rush Tig to the ER. Lyla was her second pair of hands, working under her lead and supervision. She didn’t have the same expertise under her belt, but she certainly made up in instinct, and each of her movement didn’t escape Jax’s eyes – each smile, each word and each pass of her fingers coated with abundant care, grace and empathy.

He looked to Opie then, correctly predicting the proud look he had while observing his wife. Well shit, who wouldn’t be? Then his gaze drifted to his own girl. Maybe if Tara could learn to at least respect the life, she’ll be good enough to be an old lady too.

Immediately, the guilt was like a viper that slithered up his spine – swift and unrelenting.

The life they led was hard, and Jax was only on the cusp of sixteen when he discovered that while the Reaper kuttes took the frontline, much of the heavy lifting were quietly – and often unnoticed – supported by their women. Their unsung heroes. With that thought in mind, he knew it was unfair and unreasonable to ask Tara to fall in love with the kutte on the snap of a finger. But even so, that wasn’t the last time the comparisons between her and Lyla reared its ugly head. Yet he made sure he never shared it with anyone. Not even Opie and especially not Gemma – Oh shit.

Because she’s still my girlfriend.

Talk about a major slip up. To his mother most of all. Jax cringed, “You heard that?”

Luann’s brows pinched, drawing back a little. “Heard what?”

“A while ago, ain’t that what this is about?” Jax asked, now looking equally as lost as Luann.

Luann’s brows jumped to her forehead. “Oh – Christ, no. I didn’t hear anythin’ you and your mom were discussin’ a while ago. Believe me. But t’was easy to tell you two were buttin’ heads again. I guessed it’s ‘bout Tara so I just put my two cents in.” She said with a shrug.

If the open mouth was enough indication, Jax was clearly floored. So Luann took that as her cue to keep quiet, unknown to her the gesture was deeply appreciated. Because right that very moment, Jax felt as stupefied as he looked.

That his and Tara’s relationship status was an open book, was an understatement – and their readers were the whole of SAMCRO and everyone closely affiliated to it. If anyone asked, they could give a rundown of his relationship better than Jax ever could. Because what he was once so sure of, now felt like a thousand-piece puzzle, with some pieces missing. Yet in spite of this – all the noises, the questions and the doubts – he made sure to never share those and just keep them deep within his kutte.

So how, how was it that something he guarded so closely, escape him so casually, and without his knowledge?

“Oh hun,” Luann cooed, resuming the comforting rub she had on his back as she spotted the troubled look shadowing his face, “don’t beat yourself up over it. S’just my opinion and I certainly can’t speak for Tara, but maybe she’s –”

“PMSing.”

Before they knew it, Gemma was in front of them again, focused once more on the papers strewn on the top of her desk and completely oblivious to the disapproving scowl on Luann’s face and Jax’s head tilted to the side, frowning in curiosity. He’s pretty sure he’s heard that term somewhere before.

“What’s PMSing?”

Gemma’s hand froze before looking up. It was brief, but Luann saw it. And maybe Jax didn’t recognize it or maybe he wasn’t as much of an afficionado in decoding all things Gemma as she was. The comment was just offhanded – maybe even meant as a joke – but in just the flash of a second, she was confident a golden egg hatched in Gemma’s mind.

“It’s a condition common to women, comes out when we’re stressed and even hurtin’ over somethin’. You should talk to her ‘bout it. It’ll help.”

To his credit, Jax looked skeptical. But Luann could tell he knew he was in a catch 22. Because who in the club could ever classify as a decent source of PMS information?

“Right,” Jax gave a nod.

“Anyway, we’re ‘bout to head out. You want me to get you anythin’?” Gemma asked, picking up her purse and walked over to him and Luann.

“Nah. You two drive safe, alright?” Jax said, reaching out to give a kiss to his mom’s and Luann’s cheeks.

The two women walked to Luann’s car and just as the blonde, biker president was out of earshot, Luann rounded on Gemma.

“PMS really?”

“What?”

“You know what type of conversation usually occurs when you ask a raging girlfriend that. Besides I thought you agreed not to interfere in their relationship anymore.”

Gemma tsked, heading for the passenger side “’M not interferin’. I think it would do him some good actually. It’s time he learned somethin’ ‘bout the female body aside from fucking it.”

Luann shook her head, sighing as she trailed behind her shit stirring friend. Maybe there was a point to be made in that. But…

Oh well, can’t say I didn’t warn Jax.

When was the last time you referred to Tara as your old lady?

Jesus Christ! Jax sat up, running a hand down his face. 

Upon arriving at his dorm, he removed his kutte and laid down right away. But how the hell was he supposed to sleep when his mind refused to cooperate?

It didn’t help that his gut churned every single time Luann’s question resurfaced. Jax needed to sleep, otherwise he’d be a fucking zombie. He needed something to calm him down. Something mindless. A distraction.

He got up and walked out of his dorm, stalking towards their lone IT person. He was still perched on the barstool, just as he was when Jax saw him earlier.

“Hey, Juice.”

Juice looked away from the screen “Hey Jax, what’s up?”

Jax tipped his chin towards the laptop “You done soon?”

“Nah, Nero asked me to change some stuff on his site. Need sumthin’?”

“Can’t sleep thought I’d check Netflix.”

“Grab the one Chucky’s usin’. He’s still in the garage. Laptop’s in the kitchen.”

“Thanks,” Jax nodded.

“Everythin’ alright, bro?”

Jax was just about to turn around when Juice spoke. “Yeah, everything’s good.”

None of his brothers were stupid, and Juice was definitely no exception. Jax could see the doubt in his face. That he remained silent was appreciated by the club president. Juice just nodded so Jax went on to the kitchen, grabbed the laptop sitting idly on top of the table and went back to his dorm, keen to start with – hopefully – the peaceful part of his night. It didn’t take him long to fire up the beast as it was just in sleep, landing him straight to a paused video.

Curious, Jax hit play. Wonder what this weirdo’s into?

“Oh, Chucky!” A girl moaned.

Jax’s eyebrows jumped to his forehead. What the hell?

She was on a bed, only in her bra, the sheets giving a thin layer of privacy as it covered her from navel to toes. But no rocket science needed, her hand moving beneath the blanket was very straightforward.

“Jax!”

Jax turned to his door, a panting Chucky obviously in a hurry to reach him.

Jax stood up, running a hand down his face. “You let anyone see your girlfriend like this?” He scowled. Jax knew he didn’t have much leg to stand on here. It wasn’t like he was gunning for boyfriend of the year award but having your girl as a free-for-all was just a different kind of low.

“Oh, Sophie’s not my girl. I’m just a fan – subscriber.”

Having paced away from the direction of his bed, Jax paused mid-step and turned. “What?”

Chucky, collecting the laptop, halted and grinned “OnlyFans. C’mon I’ll show you.”

He seriously had no idea how he got strong-armed into this. All he wanted was a movie. And at one point, everything coming out of Chucky’s mouth was pure gibberish as he schooled him into this OnlyFans thing. His ears only perked up when Chucky started listing down the costs.

“I really think you should try it. C’mon what do you have to lose?”

His brows went to his hairline. “What do I have to lose? Whaddaya think, jackass? My money.”

Immediately Chucky recoiled like a puppy kicked in the gut. Jax’s guilt from earlier resurfaced tenfold, because really? Was this how he was gonna treat the man who went out on a limb for the club?

He sighed and waved a hand. “’M sorry Chucky, it’s just been a long ass day. And I think you’re right, I do need to try this.”

Chucky’s smile returned, megawatt. Jax hoped he wasn’t going to regret this.

“Alright, so first we need to set you up with an account. What username do you want?” Chucky tipped his head. “You can get creative, people often tend to be discreet.”

Well, I wonder why. He could only guess how it would go if Tara found out about this. Tara. Is this alright? Joining this site?

No matter the circumstances, they were still together, and Jax may admittedly have a colorful background, but cheater was one thing he didn’t want to add to that list. He rubbed a hand down his face.

“And if you’re worried about Tara, you can just stay away from the sex workers.”

Jax’s head swiveled to his left, a slow grin spreading on his face. The insightful bastard. “Yeah? So what kind d’you suggest I subscribe to?”

Chucky shrugged. “Influencers, bakers, whatever.”

In other words, things that Jax gave zero fucks about. Yeah, if this was ever unearthed, he could use those as excuses until he was blue in the face. Thing is, he wouldn’t fool even himself into believing it.

Jax almost groaned at the expectant look on Chucky’s face.

“How ‘bout you what’s your username?” He asked, stirring himself away from thoughts of his own grave. He could just give it three days then get outta there.

“Chucky,” Chucky answered.

Again, his eyebrows jumped. There was no telling if Chucky was kidding. Idiot only ever has one expression. “That’s you bein’ discreet?”

“Well, how many Chucky’s you know?”

“Fair enough. But ain’t no way I’m usin’ my own name.”

“Fair enough,” Chucky parroted, drawing an amused chuckle from the SAMCRO president. “How about Mr. Mayhem?”

Jax’s smile slid off his face. “You do know what Mr. Mayhem stands for right?”

Chucky winced. “Sorry, I thought it’d be cool. How about Reaper?”

“Basically, the same thing.”

“Right, how about – I got it!” Chucky’s fingers swept all over the keys, confident he’d thought of something Jax would like. To Chucky’s credit, as he showed the screen to a curious Jax, the blonde biker just gave a nod, impressed.

“Heh, I like it.”

It seemed fairly easy a while ago. Now left to his own devices, Jax was lost navigating this labyrinth of a site. Each damn button looked the same. And what was up with that long ass terms and conditions?

Do people really read that shit?

Jax was just about to give up when a video slid on the top of his screen. Sumthin’ like new videos? New suggestions? Both? Jax tried to recall what Chucky called them. But whatever, his attention was now drawn to the thumbprint.

It was a woman, wearing a sexy piece of lingerie. She was suspended, mid-air, hanging only by a pole, and Jax had absolutely no clue how she got there or how she managed to stay there. It looked like she was sitting, gripping the metal rod only by her thighs.

Strong thighs, he couldn’t help but notice. Her back was to the camera, with one hand idly on her hip, while the other was on the back of her blonde head, hair thrown over her left shoulder. Her head was angled slightly to the side, eyes peeking over her right shoulder, and with a smile for an invitation. She had a mask on, all lace and string. If somebody asked him right at that moment how she looked, he’d say – like a secret you want to unravel.

Unable to tear his eyes off, he clicked it. The video zoomed to the four corners of his screen and Jax’s heart hammered in anticipation. The video was dimly lit, but not of poor quality. The outline of her lithe body was still very visible. This time, as she waited for her cue, she was stood at the floor, then the chords of a familiar song, the inspiration behind her moniker were struck. Not the original, but still a tasteful choice.

She started to move and when her pace and the tempo picked up, it was like she wasn’t even dancing. It looked like she was flowing. And flying and floating – from one movement to the other, as smooth as a breeze, drifting from the floor and all over the pole in the sexiest pair of strappy heels he’s ever seen – that he wondered if there was someone behind holding her by the strings.

The way she moved – hypnotic. Magnetic. Alluring.

So when the prompt for a subscription came up, halting the current video, it was a no-brainer.

“The demarcation between different levels within the fashion market is becoming ever complicated and –”

Buzz.

Drawing a small line on the sentence, Amelia paused and welcomed the much-needed break from her reading. She adjusted her glasses and tapped her phone to life.

Meet your new fan…

Her eyebrows lifted along with the corners of her mouth.

MrPresident. Heh, that’s cute.

A/N: And I’ve been hit with another delay. But here’s chapter three with Amelia and Jax finally (unknowingly) meeting. 

I did as much research as I could for OnlyFans. But I’m not a creator nor a subscriber for the site. I tried to make it as authentic as possible, but if anyone reading this who has been on the site find anything inaccurate, I apologize and I hope it won’t be too much of a bother. 

To anyone who’s read and liked, thank you. Please leave a comment and/or reblog. 

If you want to be added to my taglist, let me know or click here.

Thank you to @lovebarefootblonde for beta-reading for me and for being an awesome friend! 😘 To anyone new to Tumblr and are looking for Jax Teller AUs, go check out her works! 

Taglist: @fullwattpadmusictree

[carni-val]

Soooo it’s been a hot minute but I’m getting back into my Charlie Hunnam hyper fixation so if anyone wants to send some requests through, my ask box is open 👀