#SOA-AU

[minnow-doodle-doo]

Talia in the Sons of Anarchy AU is still darkly morally gray, intense, and uses both those things to do what she wants. (this happens at least every 6 months)

[whipbogard]

He got his bike stolen

[be-crazyinsane]

Achilles: I always apologize when I'm wrong.

Agamemnon: I don't think I've ever seen you apologize before.

Achilles: I'm never wrong.

[shookethdev]

Staff of Afton Y/N (Afty) and Pocket Eclipse!

[theesirenteller]

Reaper's Crow. 𝒯𝓌𝑜 ☞

Chapter One

🅦🅐🅡🅝🅘🅝🅖 Kidnapping, Gore, Abuse, Violence, Profanity, OCC, glorification of serial killings, mentions of sexual violence, smut, mentions of PTSD, Sociopathisim, graphic violence, torture, blood, gore, deaths, dark undertones, angst, slow-burn romance

▌This fictional piece is AU with very little amounts of canon. I understand if this fic isn't your cup of tea. Please do not leave hate comments. The story is set some years after season seven. ▌

"Well I figured it was about time you got a lady friend. She's fine now. No need to drain her eyelid again, it's all cleared up. Just have to continue to ice the bruise. Once her ribs heal up she'll be ready to get up and move again. What's her name?" 

"Bye Doc." 

"Aw come on-"

"Don't let the door hit you on your ass on your way out." The Reaper said sharply in his low, guttural throat. A Marlboro cigarette soon nuzzled between his pink lips. The flick of his lighter clicking as he flamed it on. The warm golden hue kissed the edge of the tobacco stick that caused smoke to dance in the air.

The elder doctor scoffed with an eye roll before grabbing his medical bag and making his way out the bedroom. Running his hand through his salt and pepper hair as he rushed down the narrow staircase and quickly rushed out the front door. 

The loud bang of the slam lock and door shaking from its hinges caused the bedridden woman to flinch and awaken. Her heavy eyes slowly opened. The dull gray midafternoon light peaked in from the black curtains causing her sensitive eyes to squint a few times before she had opened them once again. Her blurred vision began to clear as she looked around. The room, from what she could see─was modestly sized. Big enough to fit the medium sized dresser and bed she laid in along with a chair. A chair someone was sitting in. A giant man dressed in layers of black clothing was sitting in. He sat so casually smoking his cigarette as he watched her. His large, muscular thighs overflowed on the seat, making it appear smaller than him. The two eyed one another with emotionless expressions and unsure eyes. She recalled the night she saw him and suddenly her eyes grew wet. Her lower lids formed tear droplets as her lips pursed. "Who are you?...I-I don-t-t know anything", her voice horse as she strained words together.

She had first been met with silence. "I didn't save you to ask you questions, kid. I didn't come there for you." His voice was like liquid midnight. So sultry, so smokey. The words glide off his lips like butter and drew her in like a piperman's lullaby. When he stood up from his seat he made the room appear smaller than what it already was. The Reaper's appearance exuded strength as he was very muscular and tall. With the neck and shoulders of a wide receiver football player. Thick, golden eyebrows that were quite bushy and gave his icy blue eyes an intensely destructive look. He was made to destroy based on looks alone. His large hand grasped a bottled water off of the top dresser beside her bed and with ease he popped the top off. Luckily, she was laid upright so it came easy to pass it to her for nourishment. "What's your name?", The death dealer asked as he watched her take sips.

"I don't have one." She whispered after moving the plastic bottle from her lips. 

"Come on, Everyone's got a name." He replied roughly with smoke flowing behind his words.

"Whore." She kept her eyes on the bottle. "It's what I've been called since I could talk…I don't have a name unless that's it."

His left hand cupped her jaw. His hand was warm and rugged as he lifted her head with a careful touch as her eyes set on him. His left eyebrow raised "Explain. From the beginning. From your beginning."

The battered woman had a ghostly look flash across her face. Like a broken china doll. "I was created at a Hen house. A Hen house is where men pay to get 'custom whores'. Nobody can file a missing person's report or care about someone who doesn't exist in the rest of the world. Women are housed in large houses to get impregnated, those are called 'Breeders'. And the babies are sold off to whichever client pays for it. Some get sold at birth and some at different ages…all depends on what the client wants." Her lips turned to a frown before she took another drink of water.

"I came to my master very young. I don't know how young b-but i've serviced him since before i spoke my first word." She admitted. 

The woman's revelation─or girl he couldn't even be sure of, made his blood boil. His fists clenched tightly, so tight that his nails dug deep into his flesh enough to leave dents. The Reaper didn't reject killing Stolbatch. He only regretted not making the process longer. There wasn't much chivalry in his job but this was the closest he'd gotten to it in a longtime. Her sullen voice broke him out of his inner thoughts. "What'd you say?" he asked in a softer tone. More husky.

"I asked your name. You said everyone's got one." She replied.

"Reaper." He moved from his spot near the dresser and made his way towards the door. "You've been asleep for about a week now. I'll get you something to eat. Pain's gonna kick in soon and you'll be needing your meds." 

"Reaper." She called out from behind him, causing the giant man to stop in his tracks and turn his head to the side, "Thank you." her voice grew shaky as she fought back tears. 

He said nothing but nodded his head before leaving.

 It carried on similar to their first meeting for the next two weeks. She barely saw him unless he was bringing her soup and crackers or coming in with medication. Other than that Reaper was gone the majority of the time. He was a man of little words. He barely spoke more than a sentence at a time. She didn't mind it. The woman was settling into her own reality of being free. Whatever that meant. She didn't know. 

Today was dreary. Wherever they were it was cold. Cold and wet. The sky was shaded dark gray and raindrops danced against the window. Feeling stronger than she had weeks ago, The bushy-haired girl sat in the chair Reaper would usually sit at. Instead this time she had moved it closer to the window. Dressed in a plain white long-sleeved cotton teeshirt that fit her a few sizes to big, Her large breasts kept it from spilling off her shoulders, a pair of grey joggers warmed her lower half with long black socks, A heavy fleece blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she sipped on her sweet, hot beverage. Hot chocolate. Her thick afro sat on her shoulders and warmed her collarbone and neck like a warm scarf. 

"Dont'cha think it's about time you picked out a name for yourself, kid?" His baritone voice sparked behind her. 

"How about kid since you already called me that?" She replied with a squeaky tone.

Reaper chuckled and shook his head as he edged closer. "More like Mouse would suit you better." he muttered. He then took a seat on the edge of her bed beside her chair. Hunched over with his elbows on his knees as he ran his hands through his golden hair. Today, he was dressed in a pair of faded black jeans, bulky leather buckle boots that were stained with gruff dirt stains, and a black wool cardigan that hugged his large muscles perfectly, "Look at me…in the eye this time." 

Biting at her puffy bottom lip, she slowly turned her head and looked at him. She found it difficult to look into his eyes for too long. A fuzzy warm feeling would form in the center of her chest.  A heavy weight would form in her stomach that felt like a brick. Her palms grew sweaty. Her obsidian eyes stared into his bright sapphire ones before she narrowed her attention on the gray hairs that peaked out from his honey-toned beard.

"Scout." 

"Scout?" She repeated with an unsure tone. Popping her lips a few times as she repeated it. 

"Fuck, that's shit…uh…",His eyebrows knitted together as he curled his lips into a frown. "How about Birdie? Like free as a bird."

"I like Scout." She said quickly as she sat up straight. "Cookies…There were these cookies and I remember they were called girl scout's cookies. I used to eat them a lot."

"Okay." A smirk fell across his lips, "Nice to meet you Scout."

She smiled at him in return, "Nice to meet you Reaper."

The pair locked in their gaze at one another. A comfortable silence falling over the two of them as they stared. A fire sparkling in their stomachs as their eyes warmed. Only for that fire to be put out by the sound of his mobile ringing. Reaper's expression turned back to cold in the blink of an eye. Stoically, he quickly got up from his seat and left the room.

It'd taken Reaper awhile to come back but when he did he looked unsettled. Conflicted. "Where would you like to go, Scout?" he asked. 

She looked at him with a confused expression which made his eyes close and his nostrils flare. "What?" she asked.

"Where would you like to go?" He breathed out with his shoulders slouching. He suddenly turned and pulled open the top shelf of the dresser. Digging inside it before pulling out a stack of cash. "Look I don't know where you'll go but it can't be with me. You're free now. I'll give you some money and you can start over wherever you'd like."

Scout's eyes widened as she panicked. "Wait!", swiftly she stood on her feet and edged towards him as he turned around. Her heart starting to race. Tilting her head up and craning her neck back she looked up at him, "Look please just take me with you. I-I-I..I won't be a bother i promise!"

Reaper exhaled deeply and began to shake his head. "Look Sc-"

" I am as good as dead without you! Please Reaper, take me with you or…or kill me now because there isn't anything out there for me." Fat tears fell down the sides of her face as she wept. Wailing like a baby, like a scared child. It'd felt like he'd be throwing her to the wolves. 

The Reaper looked down at his shoes before looking up at her once more. He knew she was right. And a part of him couldn't shake the feeling that his life was going to go through another change. He wasn't looking for a partner but he wasn't going to push what he already welcomed in, away.

"So, where are we headed now Reaper?"

The Reaper let out a grumbling grunt before speaking, "Look, we need to set some ground rules since you're gonna be tagging along." He then proceeds to clear his throat, "Rule one; No asking questions, Rule Two do as i say, Rule three, do as i say and stay put without asking questions, and Rule four shut up and blend in. I work for some fucked up people in higher ranks of power." His facial expression grew stiff as he drove, "I used to think I had power. Law enforcement I thought had power. But not like these guys. This goes beyond Biker shit…outlaw shit…beyond it all."

His blue eyes caught her onyx ones as he looked her over, "We're just ghosts amongst the living; you and me." 

Scout began to slowly smile and reached out her fist. "Ghosts amongst the living, me and you." she agreed as the two bumped fists.

Character Visual : Scout

Chapter Three

Taglist ; @youflickedtooharddamnit @darqchilddaydreamz @darklydeliciousdesires @wabi-sabi1090 @danzer8705 @laurfilijames

[cero-sleep]

Spot Coco @severallizards @shookethdev

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Meant To Be: Part 12

Pairings: Past Machine Gun Kelly x Reader, Opie x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 2,348

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of your pregnancy flew by in the blink of an eye. Between taking care of Gage, working odd jobs, spending time with Opie, and the religious visits from a very sober Colson, time just slipped away from you. Before you knew it, you were scheduling your c-section for Zoey Rose to join the world. 

“You look ridiculous.” You giggled as you looked over at Colson when he joined you in the delivery room. The tattooed father of your children simply shrugged as he adjusted the mask on his face. 

“I fucking feel it, too.” He laughed as he took the seat beside your head to wait for his daughter to be born. He met your eyes and sighed with a small shake of his head. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Letting me be here for this.” He replied as he reached out to take your hand before catching himself and putting his hand back in his lap. “Not asking Lurch to be here…”

“She’s your daughter, Colson.” You breathed as the doctor let you know he was starting. “Not his.”

“I know.” He said as he leaned around the drape to look at what was going on. “But you still could have asked him to be here instead of me. He is your boyfriend after all.”

“And that still doesn’t change the fact that you are her father.” You replied as you searched his eyes. “No matter what is going on between us, we are still her parents. Thats what the custody agreement says. And her DNA and all that shit.”

“I know.” He sighed as he looked back around the drape, cringing the slightest bit at what he saw. “Still… thank you.” You nodded your head and looked up at the ceiling with a small sigh.

“You guys ready to meet your daughter?” The doctor asked, making Colson stand up from his spot so he could see better. “Here she is.” Your breath caught in your lungs as you waited for that first cry, and when Zoey finally released her first noise, tears welled in your eyes. You looked over at Colson as he was handed your daughter and a smile stretched across your face.

“Holy fuck.” He gasped as his heart expanded to fit all the love he felt for his second born. “Holy shit, look at you! You’re beautiful.”

“Lemmie see.” You choked as you watched them. He nodded his head and sat back down so that he could show you your child’s sweet face, but you shook your head. “No, put her on my chest, Colson. Let me see.”

“She’s perfect.” He whispered as he laid her across your chest as carefully as he could. He kept his hand on her side, afraid to even look away as you gently brushed your fingertips across the top of her head. The two of you basked in her adorableness for a long moment as she cried her little heart out before the nurse had to take her. The moment she was out of your sight, Colson shook his head frantically.

“Don’t take them.” He begged as he sat back down on the stool and grabbed your hand. “Please. I’m literally begging you, (Y/N). Don’t take my kids to North Carolina. Please, I’ll do anything…”

“Colson…”

“I’ll pay your rent and all your bills.” He pleaded as he gripped your hand tight and searched your eyes. “I’ll stop calling your boyfriend Lurch. I’ll get completely sober and never touch another drug again. I’ll literally do anything you want me to do just please, please stay here with them. I can’t…”

“OK.” You interrupted as you squeezed his hand as tightly as you could. “OK, just breathe. I…”

“Please.” He begged again as he reached out to cup your jaw in his hand. “Please.” With a small shake of your head, you looked at his tense posture and searched his eyes as you pulled your face out of his palm.

“I’ll think about it and talk to Opie.” You sighed. He nodded his head and wiped a tear off his face, which made your heart break for him.

“OK.” He agreed with a nod as he put a bit of physical distance between the two of you. “Thats all I’m asking.” With a nod of agreement, you looked back up at the ceiling with your mind reeling at his request. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

“She is beautiful.” Opie said as he sat in the recliner seat in your hospital room the next morning, holding Zoey in his arms with a smile on his face. You nodded in agreement with a small smile on your face as he glanced up at you. His brow furrowed and he tilted his head to the side the slightest bit. “Whats wrong?”

“Colson dropped a bomb in the delivery room.” You sighed as you ran your fingers through your hair. You covered your face with your hands and swore softly before carefully turning on the bed to face your boyfriend. “He’s willing to pay our rent and all our bills for the foreseeable future, to get sober, even to even stop calling you Lurch if we agree to not move to North Carolina with the kids.” He groaned and sat back in his chair while shaking his head.

“Babe…”

“Opie, they’re his kids.” You breathed as you twisted your hands in your lap and looked down at your tattooed skin. “I get where he is coming from…”

“Babe, so do I.” He interrupted, making you look up at him. “I get it. Look, I know we live together but I am not the father of Gage and Zoey. That’s his title and always will be. I can completely understand where he is coming from not wanting his children to move half way across the country. But you have sole physical custody of these babies. You do. So it is up to you on what you want to do…”

“Opie…”

“No, it’s true.” He interrupted gently as he got up and came over to sit with you on the hospital bed so he could put his arm around you. “We both hate L.A.. That’s no secret. But the father of your kids is here. We both have jobs here and friends here. Sure your family is there, but your kids’ family is here. So I get why you would want to stay for their sake, especially after everything Colson has done to be a present father the last few months.” You nodded at at him with tears in your eyes and he smirked and shook his head. “Baby girl, to be completely honest, I knew two months ago that we weren’t moving home. I could see it in your eyes when you stopped looking for houses for us to rent or buy back home. And I’m OK with that. Truly, I am.”

“I don’t know what to do!” You cried as a few tears slipped from your eyes. He smiled and rubbed your back with a small nod.

“Yea you do, baby. That’s the thing. You’ve known what you wanted to do for a while now, you just didn’t want to see it yourself yet. You just feel bad because you told your family you were coming back and now you’re not. Like I said, I get it. You want your kids to have their father in their lives more than what the custody agreement says because he has been in their life in a positive way. You still love him enough that you don’t want to break his heart and take them away. That’s OK. I’m not upset…”

“You’re not?” You sniffled as you searched his eyes for a hint of a lie.

“No, baby girl. I’m not.” He chuckled as he glanced down at Zoey in his arms before looking back at you. “(Y/N), I love you. And I know you love me, too. There isn’t a doubt in my mind about that. But you still love the father of your children. Not in the same capacity, but you do love him. And you don’t want to break his heart by moving across the country with his kids. I get it. I am here for you either way, same as I always have been and always will be.”

“Ope…” 

“I know.” He said as he pulled you into his side and kissed the top of your head. “I know.”

“You’re too good for me.” You whispered as you put your hand on his knee and gave it a little squeeze.

“I’m not good enough.” He whispered back against your hair before reaching between you to tilt your face up so he could kiss you properly. 

“You really knew we weren’t going to move two months ago?” You asked against his lips as you opened your eyes to search his. He smirked and nodded his head.

“I know you, baby girl.”

“And you’re OK with staying here?”

“I’m OK with it.” He said as he pulled away to look back at whoever was knocking at the door. “This is our home, like it or not. Come in!” 

“Hey.” Colson said softly as he stepped into the room, sheepishly. “I… um… well I brought breakfast and I thought…”

“Just get in here.” You laughed as you wiped the tears off your cheeks and carefully maneuvered back into bed. “Ooo bagels. Gimme!” Your ex handed you the bag before carefully taking Zoey from Opie, who quietly left the room to give you a minute with your ex. You started spreading smear on a toasted bagel and glanced up with a sigh. “We’re gunna stay.”

“What?!” Colson gasped as he whipped around to look at you with wide, tear filled eyes. “For real?”

“For real.” You said as you rested your wrist on your hospital table.

“Thank fuck.” He sighed as he sank down on the bed near your knees and let his tears spill over. “Thank you. I swear, I’ll…”

“You…” You interrupted as you glanced down at your daughter. “Just need to be a father to your kids. That’s all. You don’t have to pay my rent or whatever, just keep being there for your kids. Preferably sober.”

“I will.” He sniffled as you took a bite of your bagel and sat back against the bed. “I fucking swear it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“So you’re not moving back to North Carolina now.” Your dad asked as he sat in your living room, helping Gage hold his baby sister in his lap. You sheepishly shook your head and searched what you could see of his eyes. 

“Are you mad?”

“Not mad.” He said with a shake of his head as he looked up at you. “Not particularly happy, but not mad at all.”

“Their father is here.” You sighed as you ran your fingers through your hair and curled up in your spot on the couch. “And I just…”

“I get it.” He said with a nod as he looked back down at his grand babies with love in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He said quickly as he shook his head and looked back up at you. “As a parent, I get it. It’s the whole reason Anne and I didn’t move closer to her parents when we got married. Because I needed to be close to my kids. You are realizing that your kids need to be close to their father. It’s no different. It’s also very grown up of you.”

“That feels like a trap.” You huffed, which made him smile. 

“Parenting is a trap, sweetheart.” He chuckled as he quickly took Zoey from Gage, who wanted to go play with his toys again before a nap. “As is co-parenting.”

“Yea well, I knew that.” You giggled as Tabby came over after finishing the lunch dishes.

“You’re not getting back together, right?” She asked as she sat down beside you sideways on the couch.

“Not a fucking chance in hell.”

“Well then I think it’s admirable.” She sighed as she ran her fingers through her hair with a smile. “You’re being the bigger person.”

“What are you gunna do about work then?” Ross asked as he sat back in his spot and got comfortable.

“Well… I have a couple minor guest spots on TV shows and a music video lined up after my Criminal Minds episode aired. And I think Dolce and Gabbana wants me to walk their runway in the spring. So I have a couple things. I’m also thinking about doing… other things to supplement.”

“What’s that mean?” Your dad asked, which made you blush.

“Porn, daddy.” Tabby answered for you. “She means porn.”

“Not porn!” You hissed as you whacked her leg while your dad cleared his throat and blushed hard. “It’s like modeling for Penthouse…”

“So porn.” Your sister repeated with a smirk, which made you scowl. 

“Modeling tastefully nude.” You hissed with a glance over at your son to make sure he wasn’t listening. “For the Suicide Girls and Penthouse. Not porn.”

“(Y/N) (Y/M/N)…” Your dad scolded, which made you blush this time.

“It’s a job that I’m good at.” You sighed as you looked at your dad, while your sister smirked gleefully at your side. “And one I like doing. I like modeling, dad.”

“And you have to do it… naked?!” He whispered the last word, which made you and your sister both laugh.

“I’m done having this conversation with you old man.” You laughed as Opie came in through the garage after work. Your dad muttered ‘thank God’ under his breath as you smiled up at your significant other. “How was the shoot?”

“Good. What are you two laughing at?”

“Nothing.”

“(Y/N)’s love of modeling naked.” Tabby said at the same time, which made you turn to whack her leg again.

“Awkward.” Opie chuckled as he kissed your forehead on his way around the couch to put his camera bag down in its spot on the built in bookshelf behind his desk.

“Very awkward.” Your dad agreed with a nod of his head. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

[hyena-frog]

ATTENTION:

Baby Sevro

That is all

[minnow-doodle-doo]

praying that your son's hands stay clean (they don't)

[sorry4charlieart]

saw @5uwabbit 's shadows of almia au and it was like a god damned sleeper agent moment LMAO. god i havent drawn pokemon ranger shit in so long but i was literally just thinking about kate the other day

[clxckwork-sun-n-moon]

couple of Y/N interactions for the evening~ with SCtW Y/N gifting @cero-sleep's Illusion of Choice Y/N some soup and comfort and then getting the lay of the land from @festdev's Staff of Afton Y/N

[shookethdev]

Staff of Afton Moon

Finished Moon’s reference for Staff of Afton!

[witchthewriter]

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐲: 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

with @yourwinchesterbros.

Everyone is welcome to comment!

This is a post for discussing what could have happened in SoA. The ‘what ifs’, and ‘could haves.’ E.g., what if Opie didn’t die and someone else did? Or if Juice made different decisions, would there have been a different outcome? 

Everyone’s opinions will be respected, and there are no wrong takes.

You can either reblog with your take, or talk in the comments 🌻🌿🌷

This post will have major spoilers.

I felt like they used the miscommunication trope in the ending, and I absolutely despise that choice. In every sort of media, I think it’s a bit of a cop-out for writers in all honesty. 

   I’m still bitter that Opie died, I think it was a necessary death for Jax’s character development. But what if he hadn’t? I think the show would still feel a bit light-hearted. After Opie’s death, the show felt colder. 

[garbinge]

And you?

Jax Teller & Steve Murphy (SOA x Narcos AU) For the @narcosfandomdiscord October Prompts. Day 22 - Day of Cross-Fandom-Pollination: Create a fanwork that includes at least one Narcos character and at least one character from another fandom.

Summary: Jax & Steve find themselves at two opposite ends of the law but still share some similarities... one of those being their genetics. This is basically brothers fighting <3 Word Count: 601 Warnings: All my fics are 18+, regardless of content. Angsty. Jax being a smug SOB and Steve thinking he's the shit.

A/N: I don't know where I got this idea from and I don't know any of the actual details of if this is in Charming or in Miami or what but.... I just felt like the moral compass within Jax and the moral compass within Steve deserved to be explored in the same moment. Oh and I made them brothers <3

Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini @hausofmamadas @ashlingiswriting

Jax was making himself comfortable on the metal cot, a smug smile on his face. His blonde long hair was oily and disheveled while his white t-shirt was dirty and hanging loosely on him, likely from a long night out, one that resulted in his cell of a bedroom for the night. 

“Should we just set a standing appointment?” Steve said as he walked through the doorway to where all the holding cells were. 

“Yea but I know you have that weekly badge shining commitment with your other police pals so I don’t want to interrupt that.” He was moving his arms behind his head in an attempt to relax. 

“Steve looked down at his uniform, it had been a new addition to his life. One that was in the plans for years but nonetheless was new. 

“Another drunk and disorderly charge, huh?” Steve was leaning against the metal bars. The scene of him with his tan police uniform on, coffee in hand as he spoke to his little brother on the other side of the bars. 

“I think you’re forgetting resisting arrest, Deputy Steve.” The last two words were as sarcastic as they could come from a young Jax. 

“Tell me, is this just to get under my skin or do you get pure enjoyment from being in this police station?” 

Jax was quickly moving to stand up, his feet bringing him closer to the bars so he could be face to face with his older brother. 

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me. Do you get pure enjoyment from being in this police station?” The sentence was spoken at a mocking tone. 

“I’d be careful with how you say things, Jax. I’m not the one behind bars.” Steve’s anger was rising, the wrinkle in his forehead was growing along with the pulsing of the vein there too.

“From where I’m standing, it doesn’t look much different.” Jax’s hand was now peaking over the bars as they lifted in a shrug. “A cell and a cot, a badge and a desk?” 

“We’re completely different.” Steve spoke in a way that was like he was trying to convince himself. 

“In the end Steve, we want the same things, sometimes even have similar ways of getting those things, violence, manipulation…” Jax was so nonchalant in his speaking. “You’re not a good guy, Steve. No matter how much you tell yourself that.” 

“And you?” The words were so quick to fall from his mouth, the anger, the frustration.

Jax smiled at that and just shook his head. “I don’t look in the mirror convincing myself of that. I know what I am, big bro.” 

The tension between the two estranged brothers grew until Steve cleared his throat. 

“Tara posted bail, you’re free to leave.” Steve’s voice was neutral, like they didn’t just have this heated discussion. The cell was opening, Steve stepping aside to let his younger brother walk past him to exit the holding cell and eventually the police station. 

Jax was at the doorway that separated the cells from the rest of the police station. The scum from the heroes, the people beneath the ones above when he stopped. He found the irony in it all, the hypocrisy as well. He looked down at himself and turned to his older brother and spoke words that he knew would hit Steve hard. It was his retaliation for the comment Steve made earlier and a way to combat Steve’s last sentence about being free to leave. The smile on Jax’s face was obsolete now, like he wasn’t going to take joy in the next words out of his mouth

“And you?”

[drabbles-mc]

Again and Again (Part 3)

Mayans!Juice AU

Day 15 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: isolation / flinching / "Do you trust me?"

Part 1 / Part 2

Warnings: 18+, angst

Word Count: 3k

A/N: I started this series back during Whumptober, so it felt fitting to post another installment of it for Whumpril! Hope you enjoy!

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Despite the days that had gone by, and the fact that the worst of the physical pain was over, Juice had barely set foot outside his house. The few times he had, it was to go and get things that he needed—groceries, alcohol, cigarettes, weed. He had yet to set foot back at the clubhouse again. The mere thought of it made him shake, so he couldn’t imagine what his brain and body would put him through if he actually went and showed up.

He was lying on his back on his couch in the living room, staring up at the ceiling. His mind was wandering and taking him nowhere good as it went. The lights were off, but there was enough sunlight coming through the windows to keep the room from being too dark. This was where he had spent most of the last couple of weeks. Even when it was time for him to try and sleep, he hardly ever went and laid in his bed. That was one thing he wouldn’t have been able to explain even if he tried.

The sound of someone knocking at his front door caused him to snap his head immediately in that direction. His heart began thudding quickly in his chest as he stared at the door, with all of its locks firmly secure because he’d checked them each three times. He laid still, partially waiting but also partially unable to try and make himself move. Logically he knew it was most likely someone from the club, or maybe even the nurse that they’d sent over to check on him.

After the first couple of days, when they were all reassured enough that he wasn’t going to eat his gun, they didn’t have club members camped out at his place around the clock anymore. Someone always checked in once a day, usually Marcus, either with a phone call or an in-person visit. Juice still hadn’t figured out if the club had been asking Daniela to keep coming and checking on his injuries and his overall state, or if she was just the type of person who cared that much. She had brothers in the club, after all, so maybe it was just a sense of duty.

He must’ve been replaying the days in his head for longer than he thought, because there was another set of knocks. Juice was trying to will his body to move, but it was slow-going. His feet had hardly hit the floor when he heard Marcus’s voice from the other side of the door.

“It’s me.”

Juice forced himself to pry the words from the back of his throat, a herculean effort when it shouldn’t have been one. “Coming.”

One slow step in front of the other, he made his way over to the door. Even though he knew it was Marcus, and even though he knew that if something was wrong Marcus would’ve warned him somehow, Juice still had his gun clutched tightly in one hand as he reached to start undoing the locks with the other.

When he finally pulled the door open, Marcus was standing patiently on the other side, his facial expression not giving away any particular emotion. That was something Juice had noticed he was good at—keeping things close to the vest. Marcus, to the extent of Juice’s knowledge at least, had never lied to him. He was always honest. But when it came to what he was feeling about something at any given moment, it was rare that Marcus wore his opinion on his face. Juice was trying to figure out if he found that to be a comforting thing or not.

Stepping to the side so that Marcus could walk through, Juice nervously drummed his fingers on his side of the door. Pushing it shut, he immediately set about redoing all of his locks. He tried to make his voice sound as normal as possible as he spoke to Marcus, even though the frantic movements of his fingers instantly negated his efforts. “All good?”

Marcus watched him, his expression still not giving anything away. He waited for Juice to turn and look at him before he finally nodded. “All good.”

“What’s, uh,” he tucked his gun into the back of his waistband, like that would somehow make it seem more casual, “what’s going on?”

“Just came to update you.”

Juice’s eyes widened. “Update me? About…about what?”

Marcus could hear the panic edging its way into Juice’s voice, and he kept his as steady and as neutral as possible. “Templo tomorrow.” He paused, seeing how Juice’s expression didn’t relax any. “We need you there.”

That wasn’t the answer Juice had been expecting. He’d spent day after day pacing around his house waiting for the worst. Truth be told, he was half expecting one of the guys, or Marcus, to stop by and ask for his kutte. It felt like all the trouble Juice had been drowning in when he was in Charming, just took on a new form and followed him right to Santo Padre. He was wondering when the Mayans would get sick of the constant clean-up like the Sons did.

“Why,” he sniffled and shrugged as he crossed his arms over his chest, “why do you need me there?”

Marcus’s brows came together for a brief moment before he recovered and answered, “Because you’re part of the fuckin’ club.”

From almost anyone else, that response would’ve sounded annoyed, or even angry. But not from Marcus. The way he said it was so matter-of-fact. A large part of that was because he wasn’t annoyed or angry with Juice. He wondered when that fact was finally going to sink in with the young man that was standing in front of him.

It wasn’t that Juice didn’t want to be at Templo, or that he didn’t want to be part of the club. He did. He wanted all of that more than almost anything. But after all that had happened, the thought of just going about his life like it was business as usual was impossible to wrap his head around. For years he had just gone from one mishap to the next, and they seemed to keep getting worse as the years went along. He’d always been able to rally, though, always been able to move onto the next thing.

Now, standing in front of Marcus with trembling hands and flashbacks that made beads of sweat gather along the edge of his forehead, it was all finally starting to catch up to him at once.

Taking a breath, Marcus asked, “What is it?”

Juice’s eyes that had previously been glued to the floor snapped up so that he was looking at Marcus. “What is what?”

“What’s keeping you in here?” He made a small gesture to the house.

Juice shook his head, eyes dropping back to the floorboards beneath his feet as he tried to string together an answer. He didn’t even know where to begin. It felt so obvious and yet so complicated all at once. Because, yes, danger was a part of what they did. There was no way to be an outlaw and do it safely. However, it wasn’t just the feeling of danger. It was something deeper than that, something internal and far less tangible than the threats lurking outside his door.

He still didn’t look up as he started to speak. “Everywhere I go…bad things happen. To, to me. To the people around me. No matter what. Queens…Charming…” he hesitated like he didn’t want to spit the words out, “Santo Padre. Bad shit. Every, every fucking time.”

“And it was all on you, huh? Every time?”

Juice knew what Marcus was doing. It wasn’t the first time that he’d had a conversation like this. And he knew that in a way, Marcus was right. It wasn’t very often that the man was wrong about much anyway. This, however, this Juice knew that if one of them was approaching the situation rationally, it was Marcus. All of that and he still found it so hard to believe him.

“I know,” Juice finally said. “I know there’s more to it but I just,” he ran his hands back over his head, hating that he could feel tears stinging at the edges of his eyes, “I can’t shake the feeling. Bad luck has followed me across the country and down the border. How long was I here before…?” his voice trailed off.

“I told you,” Marcus said firmly, “what they did was about the club—it wasn’t about you.”

“But it happened to me!” Juice finally broke, emotion cracking his voice. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes for a moment as he tried to get the shake in his voice under control and failed. “Because it always happens to me.”

Marcus didn’t say anything for a moment. Side-stepping Juice, he made his way deeper into the living room and took a seat on the couch that Juice had been all but glued to for the last few weeks. Leaning forward, Marcus braced his forearms against the tops of his thighs. He finally looked over at Juice and waited for him to come and sit.

It took a few moments, but Juice finally picked up on the cue. Walking over, he put his gun back on the table before sitting down next to Marcus. He could feel Marcus staring at him but he didn’t look over at him. He knew that wherever this conversation was going, he wasn’t going to be able to hide from it. He’d hidden from a lot, locked up in his house the way he had been, but now Marcus was here and it didn’t seem like he was going to leave until he got whatever answers he was looking for.

Juice gnawed at the inside of his bottom lip before saying, “I don’t know if I’m worth the trouble that follows me.”

Marcus nodded, not in agreement, but in thought. He looked down at his interlocked hands for a moment, at the Mayan ring that rested on his finger. He felt the weight of the kutte that hung on his shoulders.

“Are you going to turn in your kutte, then?” Marcus finally asked after a bout of silence.

The knot in Juice’s stomach tightened, his eyes widening as he looked over at Marcus. The lack of emotion on the man’s face left Juice wondering if it was a question or a request. “N—I…I don’t…do you…do you want me to?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yea, but—”

“If I didn’t want you in my club, you wouldn’t be.” He paused, twisting the ring on his finger. “This isn’t about that. This is about whether or not you still want this. If you can still do this.”

It had been a long time since decisions with this much gravity really felt like they were Juice’s to make. He’s been a “Yes Man” for a long time, and he was pretty good at that. For years he’d listened to the decisions being made and contented himself just following the directions that he’d been given. But now he was the one who had to make the choice, and it was one that was going to decide whether taking off to Santo Padre was worth any of the stress it had caused.

Juice knew that he still wanted this. For all of the pain and the mess that it had caused, he still wanted it. For years now it had been all he ever wanted. Belonging somewhere had been the only thing he wanted for as long as he could remember. For the first time in a long time it felt like an attainable goal—he just had to get out of his own fucking way.

“I, uh,” he sniffled, trying to force his bubbling emotions down, “I don’t know if I can, Marcus.” The pause that ensued felt a few seconds too long. “I want to, but I don’t know…”

“If you want to do this, you gotta show up.” His tone wasn’t harsh, but it didn’t leave much room for argument either. It was the plain reality of it all.

And Juice knew that he was right. Marcus was understanding, he was fair in a way the men he’d worked with in the past never had the capacity to be. But he still had a club to run. He still had messes to clean up. The question now was whether or not Juice was going to be one of those.

Juice shook his head slightly, fear once again rearing its ugly head as he thought about all of the worst-case scenarios. “Why…why do you even care so much? Why are you doing all of this? It’s not,” he shook his head, “it’s not like you owe me anything. All I’ve fucking done is—”

He was cut off by the feeling of Marcus’s hand landing on his shoulder. Juice flinched at the contact, instinctively going to pull away before he realized what was happening, that he was safe, that the gesture was one of comfort and not aggression.

Juice got his tone back under control taking a staggered breath as he repeated his question, “Why are you doing this?” The familiar sting of tears in his eyes came back as he asked, “Do you even trust me? Can…can you even trust me?”

There was a pause, but it wasn’t hesitation. There was no trace of guesswork on Marcus’s face as he sat there looking at Juice. The silence was more to make Juice sit with his own line of questioning than anything else.

Marcus took a deep breath. “Trust is all we’ve got.”

The statement hung alone in the air. After a few seconds, Marcus removed his hand from Juice’s shoulder.  Juice thought that his body would relax at that, but none of the tension dissolved out of him. His leg began to bounce as the two of them sat there. He knew that it was his turn to say something, that Marcus would be more than content to sit there and wait until Juice finally forced himself to give some kind of answer to the original question that spurred this conversation in the first place.

Even though Juice cleared his throat, his voice still came out as a whisper, like he was on the brink of losing his voice. “I’ll be there.”

Marcus’s expression didn’t shift at all as he nodded. “Good.” He paused, giving Juice the opportunity to say anything else that he needed to get off his chest. When silence ensued, he asked, “Nothing else?”

Juice gave a small shake of his head, still not looking directly at Marcus. “No.”

Standing up, Marcus brushed his hands on his jeans before starting to head back towards the door again. “Tomorrow, then.”

Juice nodded, forcing himself up off the couch so that he could follow Marcus and lock the door behind him once he’d left. “Tomorrow.”

When Marcus pulled the front door open, he immediately came face-to-face with Daniela, who was still in her scrubs from work. She took a small step back, a surprised laugh slipping out of her as she looked back and forth between Marcus and Juice.

“Hi, sorry.” She adjusted the small medical bag that was slung over her shoulder. “I was just, you know, um,” she patted her bag, “checking in.”

Marcus nodded in approval. “Thank you.”

She gave a warm smile. “It’s not a problem,” her eyes drifted over to Juice, her expression softening a little, “really.”

Marcus gently rested his hand on the outside of her arm as she slipped past him, allowing them to swap places so she was inside the house and he was out on the front step. He and Juice exchanged one more brief look, each trying to figure each other out just a little bit more, before saying one more quick goodbye.

Daniela waited and watched as Juice shut the door behind Marcus and did all the locks. Her sympathetic smile lost a little bit of its curve as she watched him go back and check the locks, and recheck them again.

“If it’s not a good time,” she offered, “I can always come back later.”

Turning around and facing her, Juice shook his head. He was trying to look less rattled than he really was, which was difficult with everything that had happened within the span of the last half hour. Still, she already showed up, so he wasn’t going to turn her away.

“It’s fine,” he forced out.

She didn’t want to turn it into a debate, so she just nodded. “Okay.” She gestured to the couch, and as they both stepped towards it, she asked, “You wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head as he sat down. “I’m good.”

She nodded again. Some days he talked a little bit, other days the two of them sat there in near-silence as she checked him over. It looked like it was going to be the latter. “Okay.”

Juice watched her as she pulled her medical bag onto her lap and opened it to look inside. He wished he had better things to say to her, anything, really, but he was coming up empty. She never seemed fazed by it.

“Thanks,” he said softly as she pulled her stethoscope out.

She gave him a tiny smile. “Of course.”

That was all that was said between him as she got wrapped up in making sure that he was at least physically alright if nothing else. Meanwhile, Juice’s mind was miles away trying to wrap his head around how he was going to pull himself together enough to do what needed to be done. This was just one day, one meeting, and it was taking this much out of him. As he flinched slightly from the cold metal of the stethoscope, he briefly wondered how he was supposed to handle all the days afterward, too.

[hyena-frog]

A compilation