#Tig x reader

[thisreadswhatever]

The Chase: Part One

Pretty Sweet

series masterlist

[description]: jax teller x female reader

[wordcount]: 2.7k+

[summary]: Jax Teller is used to getting what he wants. At least that was the case before he met you.

[cw]: 18+ only minors do not interact - AU, follows some canon characters & themes but timeline is different. otherwise none yet, but stick with me, I have a smutty plan!

[authors note]: this has been really fun to write. thank you so much to this anon for requesting this idea! I plan on writing a good few parts of this.. as I am really loving writing this reader insert. if you have any ideas or suggestions on where you would like this to go, please let me know! I absolutely love getting your suggestions. I really hope you enjoy!

It had been a long sixteen hour drive. You sighed with relief as you sped past the large wooden slice, “WELCOME TO CHARMING”. You rolled your windows down, the wind blistering through your hair as you took in the warm California sun. 

You turned the music up, attempting to drown out the events replaying in your head that led you here in the first place. 

Charming wasn’t exactly on your bucket list of places to travel. Your parents had split a few years back, after your mom decided she could no longer handle the baggage that came with the Sons of Anarchy MC. Your Dad was an avid member of the Denver Charter, and she soon realised she couldn’t sit back and watch as he grew deeper into the Club. It was a quick and amicable divorce, made easier by the fact you were an only child and more than understanding of why the relationship had to end. You were old enough to see the pain your mom went through trying to make it work, and you knew that it was the best decision for them both. Your Dad on the other hand, never really got over it. 

When your mom remarried last year, he decided to leave Colorado and transferred to the SAMCRO Charter. Charming was his home now. He’d been begging you to visit him for months, and despite the fact you were genuinely pleased that he was happy, seeing him so far from home and content without his family wasn’t something you’d looked forward too. 

Charming was a small place, and from what your Dad had told you, it had never really left the seventies. Denver was the total opposite, a city full of life and people, and ever growing with new expanding chains of business. Even with the freezing winters, there was always something to do in Denver. But Charming? They barely had a population of fifteen thousand. 

You had evaded the trip for as long as you could, blaming college assignments and exams for the reason you couldn’t make the drive. Now that you’d graduated, the excuses had run thin, and it was time to visit your Dad in Charming. 

You pulled into the road of the address he had given you, entering a long unpaved driveway that ended on the outside of a dainty cabin. Your Dad’s bike was parked stagnant on the dirt. You dug your suitcase out from your trunk and walked up the wooden steps to the porch, bringing your hand to the door to knock. Before your knuckles could meet the wood, the door flung wide and your Dad lunged at you with open arms. 

“You’re finally here!”, he squealed in excitement as he grasped you into a giant bear hug.

“‘Finally’ is right. That was a serious drive, Dad.”

He took your suitcase and carried it through the entryway. “Sure is. I’m so glad you got here safely, kiddo. Come on, let’s get you settled. You hungry? I was just about to make some lunch.”

You followed him inside as you observed the interior of the quaint, dusty cabin. “I could definitely eat.” 

—

Your Dad showed you to your room and then became sidetracked from lunch, giving you a full tour of his new home and the complete low down of all things SAMCRO. He’d explained that the place was owned by the Club, but nobody ever frequented it unless they were in hiding. Your Dad was housed here for the long term, or at least until he could find something he liked better inside the Charming suburbs. 

Once he’d caught you up, he made his start on lunch. You watched as he strolled throughout the kitchen, sitting patiently at the small round dining table. 

“It’s a nice place, Dad. Not sure how I feel that you’re out here all alone though.”

“I’m barely here, kiddo. Spend most of my time down the Clubhouse.” He shrugged nonchalantly as he continued to make sandwiches, dropping a piece of turkey in the process. “I can’t wait for you to meet the guys, y/n. A lot more warm than the ones up in Denver. Some of them are your age too.” He placed the plate in front of you, and you grimaced at the site. Your Dad had never claimed to be a great chef. 

“Thanks.” You smiled at him politely, taking a bite and struggling to swallow down the piece of dry sandwich. “I’m sure they’re great, Dad.”

“So, how’s your mom?” 

You shrugged dismissively, unsure how to broach the uncomfortable topic of the newly weds. “She’s doing well. Mike is good to her.” 

He nodded. “That’s good. I’m really glad she’s happy.” 

It was hard to see your Dad try to be okay with the fact that your mom had moved on. The awkward silence was interrupted by his chair scraping against the floor as he stood up from the table. “Finish lunch and we can head on out. The guys are getting together at the Clubhouse tonight, you can meet them all there.”

You knew an evening with a bunch of Californian bikers was going to be inevitable during your trip. At least you could get it over with on the first night. 

“Sounds great, Dad.” 

—

You weren’t thrilled to be back in the confines of your car so soon after your long road trip, but your Dad knew better than to ask you to sit on the back of his motorcycle.

You rolled the windows down of your car as you followed his bike through the winding road from the cabin. As you re-entered Charming, you passed by locally run stores and cafes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was a quiet, peaceful town. But you did know better. You knew what the Club’s presence actually meant for a small community like Charming. If SAMCRO was anything similar to the Denver Charter, the underworkings of this town would be anything but quiet and peaceful. 

You pulled into the lot of Teller-Morrow Automotive Repairs, instantly drawn to the huge row of Harley motorcycles lined up on the inner bays.

Your Dad parked up and met you outside your car, telling you all about his new job in the garage as you walked together. He led you across the lot towards a small black door, entering into the SAMCRO clubhouse. It was impressive, a comfortable space with its own bar and lounge area. The place was full of MC memorabilia and pictures from the club’s long history. The furthest wall was centered by two large double doors that were surrounded by mugshots of the SAMCRO members. You had visited the Denver Clubhouse enough to know that room was where the decisions were made.

Your Dad introduced you one by one to several members that were there, a few of which he’d mentioned to you that afternoon. Bobby, Chibs, Trager, Juice and Opie all greeted you with open arms. They were extremely friendly and welcoming, just as your father had promised. The one your Dad called Trager seemed very pleased with your arrival, hugging you for a little too long. Your Dad managed to break the long embrace, pulling you away to start touring you around the building. 

“Don’t get too close to that one, kiddo. He’s a little out there.” 

You giggled as you nodded in agreement, “I’ll keep my distance.” 

—

You sat alongside the club’s Secretary, Bobby, on a leather bench that faced out with a view of the entire room. You observed as the Clubhouse filled with more members and women, a handful of which were old ladies. The rest of them, very clearly single. Of all the members you’d met so far, Bobby had been the easiest to talk to. He clued you in on some of the Club’s legitimate businesses, Cara Cara and Red Woody Productions. You figured that’s where most of the girls came from, retired and current porn stars. 

It was a little strange, and anyone else may have felt uneasy seeing their father in this kind of environment. But you were used to the life of girls and guns from growing up with a dad in a motorcycle club. The Denver Charter had its fair share of women in and out of their doors, but mainly just bartenders and the odd crow eater looking for a way in. These girls were more forward, scantily clothed, makeup on point, and obviously comfortable with their surroundings.  

Bobby nudged your shoulder, regaining your attention from the party happening around you. “You know your Dad talks about you constantly. He’s so happy that you’re here, kid. We all are.” 

You glanced over at your father, a huge smile forming as he collected a drink from the bar. 

“He does seem happy. Just weird seeing him away from home.” 

“You got a home here with us too now, y/n.” He placed his arm over you and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly, “we’re your family as much as we are his.” 

“That’s really sweet, Bobby. Thanks.” 

He pulled his arm back as he chuckled to himself, his large stomach bellowing as he laughed. “I am pretty sweet.” 

Suddenly, the front door opened and a roar of drunken welcomes filled the clubhouse as two more members entered. The President of SAMCRO, Clay Morrow, walked in smiling ear to ear, hands held up as though he was a celebrity greeting his adoring fans. You’d heard a lot about Clay from your father, mainly that he was the initial sponsor for his transfer from Denver, and some remarks about what an ass he was. Behind him, a much younger member followed, embracing Opie as he entered. He was different from the other members, not totally clean cut, but you could at least tell he had showered. Not only was he bathed, he wasn’t harsh on the eyes either. You watched as he talked with Opie, his hands pushing his long blonde hair behind his ears as he spoke. 

“Who’s that?” You asked Bobby, your eyes never feigning from the man. 

“That’s Jax. Club’s VP.” 

As you watched him converse with Opie, he suddenly glanced your way, locking eyes with you. You quickly turned away from him and back towards Bobby. 

“He looks a little young to be Vice President”, you mumbled as you took a swig from your beer, still conscious that he was looking at you. 

Bobby laughed, “Yeah, well, he’s a Teller. His Dad was First 9 alongside Clay and Piney Winston, Ope’s pops. Jax has been SAMCRO since he came out of the womb.” 

You raised your eyebrows, glancing back over your shoulder. Jax’s attention had now been obtained by one of the Cara Cara girls. She was pulling him in by his cutte, batting her eyelashes at him as she leaned against the bar. 

Bobby watched as you observed Jax. He sipped his drink, amused by your interest. “He’s known for his way with the ladies.” 

You wanted to press Bobby further, but your Dad suddenly was stumbling over beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“Come on over here, kid. I want you to meet my sponsor.” 

“The asshole?”, you whispered to him as you stood up from the chair.

He snickered back at you, patting you on the back. “He’s having a good day.” 

—

You were impressed by the brotherhood the Redwood Originals shared. It wasn’t unfamiliar to the Denver Charter, but the way the members of SAMCRO loved one another was palpable. You observed quietly throughout the night as they all ripped into each other with lighthearted banter and spilled beer all over the place. You were conflicted by the fact your Dad fit in so well here. It was painful to know he had chosen this life over one with you in Denver, but you still felt at peace knowing he had found a place in this family. 

He was now slumped over a leather armchair in the lounge, snoozing after one too many beers. You nudged his shoulder, trying to wake him. “I’m gonna head back to the cabin, Dad. I’ll meet you here in the morning?” 

“You sure, y/n?” He tried to stand up as he slurred, but his balance failed him, collapsing back into the seat. “I can lead you back-” 

You chuckled, placing a hand on his head as he closed his eyes, “No way are you getting on a bike in this state. I remember the way.” 

Tig overheard and slid himself beside you, placing an arm across your waist. “We’ll take care of him, sweetie. Don’t you worry. Get back safe, okay?”

You unwound from his grasp, collecting your bag from the coffee table as you searched through the contents for your keys. “Thanks Trager.”

A strange laugh left his throat as he watched you leave, before his face turned straight as a board. “Call me Tig.” 

You said your goodbyes to the members that were sober enough to communicate, and made your way to the parking lot. 

Jax Teller was sitting outside the clubhouse, journal and pencil in hand. He glanced up at the sound of the door opening, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips.

He smiled boldly, in a way that perplexed you. Almost like he was happy to see you, even though you’d never met. He took the cigarette from his lips as he asked, “you’re Ralph’s kid, right?”

“I usually just go by y/n.”

He placed his pencil inside the journal and tucked it snug in his cutte, standing from the bench. “It’s a nice thing you’re doing, coming all this way to see him.”

You nodded, “had to make sure my Dad wasn’t living with some crazed psychopaths, you know?” 

He exhaled, his lips forming a perfect O as the smoke left his lips. “Pretty sure a few of those knuckleheads could pass for psychotic”, he teased. His mouth pulled into an infectious smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back. 

Jax walked closer towards you, your bodies now inches apart. He held out an open pack of cigarettes, prompting you to take one. You shook your head, declining the offer.

 “And what about you? How’s your level of sanity?” 

Jax hesitated. “A work in progress.” 

You smiled politely as you walked past him, making your way to the car. “Anyway, I was just leaving. Was nice meeting you.” 

Jax’s brow creased in concern, “you heading to the cabin on your own?” 

You looked over your shoulder to see him pacing behind you, flicking his cigarette to the cement.

“My Dad’s not exactly in riding order.” 

“I can take you back.” 

You stopped outside your car and turned to him, scoffing at how forward he was. “I met you thirty seconds ago.”

“So?” He shrugged. 

“I don’t really think that’s appropriate.” 

“I’m not asking to get in bed with you, y/n. You can ride the Harley with me and I’ll leave the second you’re in the cabin.” 

You opened the car door, sliding into the seat. “Not gonna happen.” 

“I won’t lay a hand on ya, darlin’,” he raised his hand up, smiling, “scouts honor.” 

You pressed your lips together, suppressing yourself from giggling at his innocent gesture. “I don’t ride bikes.” You affirmed. 

Jax cocked his head at you, confused at the statement. “Denver girl’s scared of bikes?” 

Your eyes rolled at his assumption. “No offense, but I just met you. I’m not sure my safety is your concern.” You shut the car door, realising your window had been left ajar from the way there. You wanted to curse aloud that the good Californian weather enabled the opportunity to ride with the windows down.

Jax didn’t push further, nodding his head as he watched you settle into the driver's seat. “No offense taken.”

Jax leaned his head into the open window, resting his arms on the roof of the car. You turned the ignition, letting the engine roar to life. “Nice to meet you, Jax.” 

“You too, darlin’. Will I see you again?” 

You were looking directly at him, your faces parted only by the frame of the window between you. “I’m here for the week, darlin’.” 

His lips pulled from ear to ear, smiling playfully as you put the gear in reverse, forcing his hands off the car as you pulled out of the parking lot. You peaked in the rear-view mirror, finding Jax still watching you drive away into the Charming night.

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[thelov3lybookworm]

Mine? Epilogue

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Summary: her heart is so full.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 975

A/n: we are done with this series... I CANT BELIEVE IT OMG WERE DONE WITH IT 😭

THANK YOU TO YOU ALL FOR COLLOWING THIS SERIES EVEN THOUGH IT TOOK ME MONTHS TO FINISH IT ASJHAJDHDF 😭 ILY ALL SO MUCH ILY ILYY

im so happy heheh 🥹

anyways, enjoy!🥹❣️

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"Mommyyy."

Y/n sighed, bowing her head and rubbing her eyes, water dripping from her fingers. She had only just gotten into the bath and Adelaide already missed her?

"Yes my love?" she called out.

"Where are you?"

"In the bath, baby."

Adelaide’s response was only the soft pitter patter of her feet as she ran into the bathroom, the door unlocked because Y/n knew her little girl loved following her around and if she had locked the door, it would have resulted in a tiny tantrum.

"Mommy, where is daddy?"

Adelaide had returned from school half an hour earlier, the car ride back home filled with her babbling about everything that had happened that day. Y/n had no choice but to nod along like she understood it all, while half the stuff she could not even make sense of.

It made her wonder if she even knew english.

Y/n raised her brows at her five year old. She only just remembered that her daddy was not home?

"Baby, daddy had some work. He will be returning soon."

Adelaide pouted, leaning against the tub and swirling her finger through the milky water.

"I miss him."

Y/n nodded solemnly. "Do you want me to call him?"

Adelaide’s eyes lit up. "Yes momma! Please."

Y/n wiped her hand on a nearby towel and picked up her phone to dial up her husband’s number.

"Hello?"

Y/n had the call on speaker phone, so before she could respond, Adelaide did.

"Daddy! Where are you?"

Y/n could hear the smile in Grayson’s voice. "I’m just parking the car sweetheart. Come greet me?"

Adelaide only giggled and ran off, leaving the bathroom door open. Y/n sighed again, shaking her head.

Adelaide was a daddy’s girl through and through. And he was just as smitten by her as she was him.

Y/n would never want it any other way.

"You there, love?"

Y/n blinked, turning her attention to her phone. "Yes."

He paused for a moment. "I forgot what I was supposed to say." he exhaled a frustrated breath, prompting Y/n to giggle.

From the other end, Y/n heard Adelaide’s voice squeaking and squealing and smiled, deciding to end the call. Her husband would soon be coming to say hi anyway.

My husband.

Despite being married for four years already, the thought made her blush every time.

The two had gotten married almost a year after he had proposed. It took the two almost twelve months to convince Liam and her father that Grayson actually loved Y/n. Y/n’s mother, despite being disappointed in Grayson, had forgiven him quickly.

Maybe she saw the way Grayson looked at Y/n, or maybe it was her mother’s heart that only wanted happiness for her daughter. Whatever it was, she had accepted the two’s engagement within the first month. It was the men of the house who still held a grudge.

Y/n’s father and brother would constantly poke at Grayson, at times borderline bully the poor man. But Gray did not budge on his decision to marry her, even knowing that there was a chance that her family would never accept him and always hold animosity towards his very existence.

And that very determination of his to stay with Y/n swayed her father and brother, and while they still weren’t too friendly with him still, things were constantly getting better.

"Mommy’s in there." Y/n heard just a moment before Grayson appeared in the doorway, Adelaide in his arms.

His brows rose the tiniest fraction when he realised Y/n was in the tub. "Well, hello mama. How are you?"

Y/n shook her head, suppressing her smile at the way he shot her a suggestive smirk. "Good."

Adelaide squirmed in Grayson’s arm before he could say anything else, attention already drifting.

"Daddy, I drew you in school today. Let me show you."

She was gone then, leaving Y/n with her husband, who’s lips spread in a flirtier smirk.

He walked closer to her, leaning in while eyeing her shoulders. Y/n could already see the gears in his head turning, already thinking of ways to persuade Y/n to let him join. He began leaning in when she splashed some water on him, making him jerk away.

"Y/n! What was that for?"

She giggled, leaning back in the tub, shaking away the few tendrils of hair that had escaped her bun. "Just felt like it."

He scowled at her, then before Y/n knew what was happening, he began tickling her.

Well, I didn’t think about the consequences.

"Gray- Grayson stoop."

He finally relented after a long moment of making Y/n laugh hysterically, her stomach squeezing.

If anyone who had known Grayson five years ago saw him now, so happy and warm, they would not believe it. But Adelaide had somehow, without even knowing, healed her father. He was happier now, he did not hide his emotions behind a mask, he smiled at everyone he talked to.

"That’s what you get for being mean to me."

She just smiled at him, her heart so full, and grabbed the collar of his shirt, not caring that she left behind prints of her hand, and tugged him close.

He let her do so without a complaint, smile on his lips when she finally kissed him.

"Daddy!"

Y/n pulled away, laughing lightly. "Go, daddy, your princess has summoned you."

He chuckled back, standing straight, but seemed to change his mind as he pecked her lips once more. "I’m yours."

Random confessions of love had become a habit of his now.

Kissing her forehead once he jogged out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Leaving her to smile to herself like a giddy teenager.

Mine.

He’s mine.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Mine taglist: @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @blocked-zombieartist @lillycore @lanterns-and-daydreams

@bubybubsters @berryzxx @riddlesb1tch @thena101

@imaseabear @book-nerd-emi @cassie6392

The Inheritance Games Taglist: @dahliawarner @thena101 @yucanbmylxdy @sheisntyou @kitkatlover015

[drakoneve]

Long Run

request: Just something cute and sweet for tig with a gn reader, please? Anything, bro I'm starved.

pairing: Tig Trager x gn!reader

word count: 600+

warnings: mention of a cartel? typical club shit

a/n: I LOVVVEEEEE this man <333

Three years into your relationship with Tig, you should be more than used to long club runs. And, for the most part, you handled the separation well.

You could keep yourself busy with work, chores, and upkeep at the clubhouse with Gemma and Tara while the boys were gone but this work would only last so long.

Tiggy kept in contact as much as he could on the road with calling in between stops and in the evenings while on your drive home. There was the old "what happens on the road stays on the road" club rule, but since the beginning of your relationship Tig made a promise to be loyal to you and he'd yet to break it.

You'd known his reputation with men and women of loving and leaving them before ever getting involved with him, and so you'd made him promise.

This run is different, however.

The club made a special trip to Santo Padre on a favor to Marcus Alvares to help the local Mayans in town handle some cartel business, and before anyone knew it their one week in Santo Padre had turned into three.

It's why tonight you sat alone in the home you shared with Tig, cuddled up in blankets on his side of the bed watching old Criminal Minds reruns.

Being on his side of the bed, resting your head on the pillow seeming infused with Tig's favorite cologne (the one you'd been getting him since your first anniversary together), brought you the comfort of Tig while he was gone.

After several episodes and half a bag of popcorn later you'd finally begun to dose off when you heard it... the soft rumblings of an approaching motorcycle.

Out of habit you reached for the spare gun in the drawer of Tig's nightstand. Before him you had never shot a gun, but after the incident with Tara and Margaret being kidnapped incited Tig to teach you to defend yourself, which meant being able to use a gun if necessary.

You crept your way into the living room to peek out from behind the window curtains to see exactly who it was pulling up in your driveway.

Even though his helmet covered most of his hair, you could see Tig's small curls poking out the bottom, unruly as ever. He shuts his bike off and begins to remove his helmet and you decide you just can't take it anymore.

You abandon the gun in your hand on one of the couch end tables before heading out the door, barefoot and wearing one of Tig's shirts.

Tig raises his head when he hears the door, confused at first, but his gorgeous smile overtakes him as he realizes it's you coming for him.

You go as fast as your legs will carry you, throwing yourself against Tig's broad chest and wrapping your arms around his torso. His arms follow suit, wrapping around you and pulling you up off the ground for a moment before setting you back down, yet his arms don't release you.

"What are you doin' awake at this hour, baby?" he asks, voice muffled in your hair as he breathes you in. "You've got work tomorrow. Well, today, actually."

"Missed you," you confessed into his chest. Finally you bring yourself to pull away slightly, taking in Tig's face.

The bags under his eyes were slightly more defined than when you last saw him, but his blues sparkled down at you with excitement.

"You've been gone far too long, Tiggy," you scold playfully. "I don't think I'm letting you leave me ever again. I don't like it."

His blue eyes flicker over your face as his hands cup either side. "I don't wanna be away from you either, baby. You're everything."

Tig pulls you into a soft kiss. He never moves his hands from your face as he pulls away just slightly, resting his forehead against your own.

"Let's go inside, doll." Tig peppers kisses across your face. "I'm in desperate need of some lovin' from my baby, okay?"

"Mmm," you hum, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. "I can't exactly say 'no' to that, can I?"

[wonnieluvr]

forever with you

pairing -> grayson hawthorne x fem!reader

summary -> you break off your current relationship for grayson hawthorne, a past love. logically, you know you shouldn't but the heart wants what it wants.

warnings -> none :)

a/n -> some fluff for my love finally !! pt 3 of photographs of you and thinking of you

seeing grayson again had not been in your plans. at all. you didn't know how you were supposed to explain any of what had happened to your family or to your date. your boyfriend. it wasn't an engagement you had really wanted, just something that would put you a step further ahead in life and he was nice, he treated you well.

but he wasn't grayson. he wasn't your grayson.

that shouldn't have mattered, you mother reminded you harshly the minute word of your meeting reached your family. as you had returned to the gala your mother immediately cut in, having heard grayson's name, warning you not to make any rash decisions.

was it really a rash decision if you had been waiting years for a moment like this?

your date had quickly noticed the change in demeanour. he was swift to pull you away.

as you danced in a room full of people, it should have been him on your mind. he, who was touching you, holding you gently and dancing with you carefully. but it wasn't. no matter how hard you tried it wouldn't ever be.

"you love him" the words had startled you, but they weren't untrue. your boyfriend offered you a small smile, bittersweet and so understanding. you hated it. hated the way you had never fallen for one another. maybe then you would have had no trouble. it might have been simple. you had shared stories of those you had truly loved, first loves gone wrong. you had bonded over that. the hurt.

and here you were now, selfishly considering your second chance while he was stuck without one. "darling, you love him. you can't do anything about that" he dipped you softly, eyes saying everything as you stared at each other. "it's okay"

your eyes begun to water for the second time that night. "i can't do that to you" your voice was full of pain and sadness as you stood straight again. "i don't know if i can do this"

"stop it" he chided softly, brushing your hair back into place as you both paused in your dance. "you would tell me to take my chance if she came back to me. so, i'm doing the same for you. you deserve to be happy. it's okay"

your shoulders dropped slightly, pained and fighting your raging emotions. "but i-"

"sh, go to him" he held your cheeks in his hands for a moment, gently caressing your face, admiring your beauty. "but if he breaks your heart again, i don't care who he is i will kick his ass"

you laughed softly, humourless. you couldn't help the way your heart filled with such great sadness for the boy you had come to spend so much time with. but your grayson was waiting, the same way you had been these past years. you had a chance and you'd be damned if you didn't take it.

you had cursed the hawthorne boy for years. you had harboured hate for the whole family after what they had said to you. you loved gray, yes but it wasn't going to heal those wounds over night. breaking off your relationship for him was something your parents advised against, very strongly when you had told them what you were doing. your mother had tried to dissuade you, remind you off their cruel words, the way they had treated you.

"i can't just give up. i have to try, i love him" you had pleaded. they had shaken their heads but they understood what this meant to you. they had hated seeing their little girl so hurt but they couldn't deny the happiness that had come before that. the way life shone in you when you had been with grayson was something they had never seen since.

it was worth the chance if you believed it was.

you met with grayson a week later. both of you were nervous, unsure of what to say to one another. you had barely ever seen this side of gray, the one who worried and fretted, the one who cared so openly.

while he had shared smiles and murmured words of love to you he had never really showed you himself. he had never been brave enough to truly let you in. and now he was.

he stood before you now, normally steady hands holding out flowers to you with a slight tremor to them. he had shown up at your door, sudden but expected, with the hopes of rekindling your relationship.

"gray" you breathed out, eyes widening when you opened your door to his figure. he wore a suit, as usual, but no matter how many times you saw him, he never failed to make your heart flutter. "hi"

you offered him a small smile, neither of you knowing how to proceed.

he stared at you for a moment longer before he blinked slowly, coming back to reality.

"hello, these are for you" he spoke softly, he had never used the hawthorne tone with you. even if he did, you would never have needed him to. he only needed to ask and you would have done anything he wanted.

"thank you, they're beautiful" you ignored the heat in your cheeks as you took the bouquet from him, fingers brushing his. you disappeared inside for a moment, putting them away in a vase and grabbing your bag before returning to the door.

"shall we?" you asked, trying to appear more confident than you felt.

if he noticed your nervousness he didn't mention it, merely holding an arm out to you, leading you to the car. he was tense, you noted. he knew it would take more than flowers to win you over again. and he was desperate to win you over.

"where are we going?" you asked, once you were both seated in the car, buckling your seatbelt up before properly turning to him. he was already looking at you, gaze soft.

"where would you like to go?"

with anyone else you would have frowned. you would have taken that as a cop out, a hint that he didn't know you and that he hadn't put the proper effort in to make the date special.

but this was grayson. grayson who bled power and control. he had a plan for everything and he had always had backups. he was giving that control to you.

you smiled softly, a memory coming to mind immediately as you glanced out the window to take in the weather.

a storm was coming despite the heat.

"what about the beach?"

the scene between you two was exactly like that of when you had visited last. it was the same beach you remembered, practically empty as a summer storm threatened the peace. the wind whistled in the quiet, as you walked side by side.

neither of you spoke for moment before you found yourselves in a familiar alcove. you smiled at the memory, warmth filling you despite the cold sea breeze.

"do you remember?" you turned to the tall boy beside you. he, once again, already had his eyes on you, watching you walk. you could practically see the two of you in his eyes, the same colour of the sea as you had unknowingly posed for his camera back then.

"how could i forget?" he whispered quietly, his hand reaching out for your face, pausing before he could actually touch you.

you didn't speak, breath catching in your throat as you stared into his eyes. you felt like you were back there again. back when everything had been fine, when there was nothing holding you back.

"i'm sorry" his expression twisted, lips forming a frown as he glanced away. his hand dropped away from you. he didn't deserve to hold you, to love you. "i hurt you and i-"

"stop" you shook your head, taking his hand in yours, gently squeezing it. the sensation was as familiar as it was foreign. "you are not your family, gray. i'm here for you not them. yes, you hurt me when you didn't say anything but i know how much pressure you're under"

"that's not an excuse-" he begun again, hand clinging to yours.

"i'm not saying it is" you grinned a cheeky smile, trying to lighten the mood. "you have a lot of making up to do"

he just blinked at you, mind running rampant with ways he could possibly do that. your grin only widened as you spoke your next words.

"you can start with giving me a kiss" you reached your free hand up to tap your lips, puckering them playfully and awaiting his move.

he didn't stay frozen for much longer, how could he ever refuse you? he let his own smile grow as he leaned down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

he pulled back first, but he couldn't move far, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck, holding him close. his hands automatically moved to your waist.

"i have a few more requests to make before i can forgive you" you announced into the centimetres between you. "but i think i need a few more kisses first"

he released a small laugh, eyes shining as he watched your lips move. "is that so?" he hummed, dipping down again to press his mouth to yours. he paused before he could, murmuring lowly. "and how long do i have to complete these requests, darling?"

"forever, gray"

-

the hawthorne empire's heir, grayson hawthorne, is rumoured to be dating. find out more here.

"well, shit"

[bullet-prooflove]

36. I got a hard head but her ass soft

for TIG TRAGER

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mortal--soul @spookyboogyuniverse @anime-weeb-4-life @nu1freakshow

Christ you have such a beautiful ass, Tig could spend all day tangled up in this bed, spanking it, biting it, fucking it. He’s already pressing deep, his hand tangled in your hair pulling your head back as he thrusts into you.

Already he can feel the climax building at the base of his spine, that ferocious wildfire surging through his nerve endings as you cry out his name for the third time that evening.

“That’s it baby, give it to me,” He mutters as your entire body tightens around his cock. “Come on, give it to me.”

You hit that peak and euphoria, it explodes thorough his body like an IED, tearing at his sanity as his hips stutter, his release spilling into you. When he pulls out, his palms come to rest upon your cheeks keeping them spread as he watches his cum leak out of you.

“God, I just want to fuck you all over again.” He whispers, smacking your ass and you moan like a whore into the pillow because you just can’t get enough of him. “Think you can take another load?”

“I don’t know Trager.” You murmur, glancing over your shoulder with that sinful smile of yours. “Do you think you’ve got another in you?”

Love Tig? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[can-i-press-play]

T(IG)erry x AU!NewLover Playlist:

[ankhmutes]

A Charming Journey Home (SOA) chapter 6

Minors, please do NOT interact with this work. Sorry. The fun filth is under the cut, as always. Thank you for encouraging me and following with me on this journey. As all journeys must, they come to an end. At least, for now. This is the end of a Charming Journey Home.

“Let’s take her back to the club. Gemma can help.” Chibs said as he leaned into his burner phone. Tig kept his arms around you, encouraging your deep breaths. “Gemma? Yeah- we got a package coming your way. She’s okay but- the prospects got her jeep.”

“I gotta stay- finish the shift. Can someone just pick me up?”  you found yourself asking, not wanting to face what might happen. You wanted to wrap yourself up in the safety that was your boys. “Filip, Alex– please??” you found yourself asking, never quite having used their actual names until now. It was almost like breaking an sacrament. 

Things were put in motion and the night was a blur to you. You didn’t quite wake up or come back fully to yourself until you were driving up to T&M, seeing Gemma outside broke you slightly- you always had a soft spot for the matriarch. 

“Gem.”

“Darling girl.” she whispered, holding you in her embrace for a moment, while Chibs and Tig looked around, making sure the compound was all clear. It was almost unnecessary, but you welcomed the action. 

“I heard everything.” she said succinctly as she guided you back into the clubhouse, your boys walking past you with a slight embrace, off to see Clay and make plans. You let out a long sigh and nodded. “I bet you want the kids- I sent juice over to make sure they’re okay.” you thanked Gemma for her thoughtfulness, and she was succinct with her parting words, shooting you a knowing look "Bad shit happens to greedy whores." You took a few hours to yourself to relax and put everything to rights. You didn’t want to scare your parents or the kids with more stories about the Sons, or any of that club stuff. But somehow, you felt like everything was kind of on repeat, it was as if Connie was back. 

Connor. 

You hadn’t thought about him in months.  Now it was almost as if you were back in Ireland. You allowed yourself to relax into the couch, your arms around the twins, your oldest leaning into your legs from his seat at your feet, the faint beeping sounds of his game system keeping you faintly tied to this world. You knew they understood the gravity of the situation, but at the same time you felt safer here in the clubhouse than out there. 

“Bedtime, let’s go.” you found yourself saying as you blinked up at the clock. The kids silently obeyed you, trotting off to a room that Gemma had claimed for you and the kids, you put them to bed efficiently and once they were asleep, you went back out. 

You couldn’t help yourself. You had to know what was going on. You had promised yourself you’d stay detached, but you had to know. Your space had been invaded, and you wanted to know what you were up against. Standing up tall, or at least as tall as you could with your petite frame, you moved confidently towards Chibs’s room. He was more likely to be straight with you, you had a feeling that Tig would try to protect you more, but Chibs, he had been through Ireland as well, and you knew he would understand. 

“Chibs?” you asked, knocking on the door. You didn’t want to walk in on him if he had a girl with him, even if the thought made you twitch slightly. You heard him moving around, and then he opened the door to you. 

“Okay, what?” he asked, a brow lifted in a knowing gesture. You moved past him, turning to face him and he shut the door. 

“So what’s gonna happen now?”

“We gotta some work t’ do.” Chibs said in a slight huff, smirking as he sat himself heavily down on the bed. “There’s some stuff gonna go down this weekend… thanks t’ ya friend. Amanda pissed off some people, that’s what. She took herself down there and sold herself to another club.”

“What?” you said with a startled expression on your face. It couldn’t be Amanda, that sold the Sons out to that club, but at the same time…… 

It was Amanda. It was a shit thing she’d do, she’d wanted to be part of the club so long and they had denied her for so long. You fell back on the bed, your hands over your eyes as you tried to think but you couldn’t. All you could do was keep your eyes closed, your mind spinning from Chibs to Amanda, and back to Chibs and Tig. You listened to Chibs outline what Amanda had done, and how it had fucked everything up. Thanks to you, though, the Sons would be able to salvage something of their operation. Chibs’s hand slid up and down your thigh as you listened to him, your head still spinning but for different reasons. His hands felt so good, solid, and calming. He grounded you, and kept you from going into a tailspin, freaking out six ways to sunday. 

“Don’t stop.” you found yourself murmuring, his hand stilling slightly up at the crux of your thighs, where the thick denim felt like nothing, you could feel his warm hand burning into your leaky slit. 

“Darlin’ say the word.”

“Filip.” you whispered, arching your back to him.

He moved quick as lightning, hands moving quickly to remove your jeans, everything below your waist disappearing as if you had only to think of it, and it would happen.

His rough mouth slid over your moist heat. You could feel the warm slick of his tongue prodding through your wet folds, licking up every drop you produced, and your thighs held still, your breathing grew hoarse. 

“Filip, please.”

“Please what, Lass?”

“Don’t stop.” you whined as Chibs coaxed orgasm after orgasm from you, your legs trembling and stomach contorting with each spasm of pleasure that shot through your body. You could see stars, and you floated along the edge, and then you felt his warm heat nudging at your thighs. 

“Y’ need this, princess?” his voice coaxed, his face coming up to yours, his mouth inches from yours as you could feel the heat burning you through. 

“Why you askin’ I told you not to stop.” You said with a half-laugh, catching your breath long enough for him to laugh sightly as he leaned forward, filling you up to the hilt with his thick cock. You felt filled up and complete, as if something had slid in place. 

It didn’t last long, with the man above you, filling you and his movements were slow and sure, but you knew he would do this again-  and again- and again, as long as you would allow him. He was your Filip, and you had welcomed him with open arms. You turned slightly, his rough kisses sliding from your mouth down to your neck, his mouth working your throat and back up, until you couldn’t help it anymore. You sobbed out his name, wrapping your legs around his waist and forcing him further up inside you, squeezing his cock with the immense wave of pleasure that you felt each time he moved inside you. 

“Stop being a fucking tease, and fuck me.” 

“Ah–!” you heard your name, strangled out as he slid out of you, hot come spilling at your entrance. He plowed through you, his hands at your shoulders, holding you close to him. Your heartbeats slowed, and your breathing grew more even. 

You and Chibs cleaned up, you looking at yourself critically in the mirror, wondering if it would leave a mark, or not, but you didn’t care. The small bruise would be easy to explain away. You opened the door, and laughed at Tig, who was lounging at the door. 

“Private party?” he asked with a slight pout. 

“I saw Venus eyeing you earlier.” you said with  grin, winking at Tig. “I know you’ve been chasing that for awhile. I figured– she’s a good gal, and I think you need a shot at that alone.” Chibs moved behind you, closing the door and latching it. “Filip, he’s done a good job of making sure I’m okay. He’s got my lucky charms.” 

“Well, you know who to call when he can’t perform.” Tig winked saucily at you, kissing you on the mouth, tasting the warm heat that Chibs had imprinted on you with his rough kisses hours earlier. You and Chibs followed Tig back into the clubhouse public area, listening to the croweaters twittering over the recruits, and you sat with Gemma at the bar, listening to Gemma and Jax, your kids sleeping in Gemma and Clay's room close by as the members relaxed in the living quarters of the clubhouse in the late hours of the night.

You were home, you realized with a jolt as Chibs went behind the bar and poured you a shot of whiskey, with a can of coke fizzing open. Your heart grew three times its size at the moment your eyes met your man’s over the whiskey. 

You were fucking, finally, home.

[inmyheaddd]

half asleep - grayson hawthorne x reader

a/n: someone lmk how to acquire a sleepy grayson to cuddle with for myself pls wc: 368 masterlist

you were wide awake, your leg strewn across grayson’s torso and his arms wrapped around you. he was out like a light, and you should’ve been too. 

you blame the 2 extra coffees you had in the morning. in your defense, you were a walking zombie by 1pm, desperate for a boost of energy.

now, you had been laying there silently awake for an hour; it was impossible to go back to sleep.

you thought you were hilarious, so you slowly got out of his grip, propping yourself up on one elbow. 

“grayson, i need you to buy germany for me.” you whispered as you patted his shoulder.

you were spewing absolute nonsense, playing a prank on your boyfriend that you had seen other people do online.

“what?” he muttered. his slight pout, and the way his brows were furrowed with his eyes still closed made possibly the most adorable sight you’d ever seen.

you tried your hardest to not laugh, “you need to buy germany from the store. i asked you last week.”

“okay, okay, ill do it. just…” he patted his arm around looking for you, “come back to sleep, sweetheart.” he mumbled as he blindly reached for your waist again to pull you in closer, but you stayed put.

“wait but, what about the purple frogs in italy?”

“i’ll get them.” he said with a sleepy groan, “tomorrow.” he pulled you in closer successfully this time, and he grabbed the back of your knee, pulling it over his lower half as he wrapped his other arm around your shoulder.

you were shaking with laughter, biting your bottom lip trying not to wake him up.

his breaths were starting to steady and then you saw his brows furrow again. after a beat of silence, he blinked one open eye at you. 

“sweetheart, germany? as in the whole country?” 

you met his gaze sheepishly, holding back a laugh. “purple frogs in italy? are you alright?” he continued. it was impossible not to laugh now.

“i was just messing with you,” you said in between giggles, “i’m sorry,” you placed a hand on his cheek, and he smiled sleepily at the sound of your laughter, closing his eyes again momentarily. 

“i’ll try and get germany for you. no garauntees, my love, but i’ll do my best.” he mumbled sleepily as he brought your head to his chest, kissing the top of it. 

“what about the purple frogs in italy?” you muttered into his chest with a smile.

he let out a sleepy chuckle, “absolutely not.”

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus

@sweetlikeanangel @littlemissmentallyunstable @sheisntyou @emelia07

@anintellectualintellectual @tornqdowarnings @maybxlle

[fanficimagery]

Violent Little Thing

To the Sons of Anarchy, you're just Happy's neighbor that doesn't care for drama or the fact that they wear kuttes. But in actuality, you've dealt and probably have done far worse, and it isn't until you're kidnapped that they find out your secret.

Author's Note: Long time no see, huh? Does this mean I'm back? Hell no. This has been sitting in my drafts since mid-2023 and thought it was time to go out. For never having seen more than a few episodes, I love these SOA boys. I'm not super familiar with the lingo or clubhouse etiquette, so this is gonna take place away from that particular setting. Trigger warning for graphic violence and attempted sexual assault (it doesn't get far). Reader is gonna be a little… off the rails. Blame all the dark romance I've been reading lmao.

Before moving into your new home, you knew it was going to be a fixer upper. Fortunately for you, you loved working with your hands, and after having been banished to Charming in hopes of calming your inner demons, you were going to have a lot of time to do just that. But the joke was on your family because there was no calming your demons. People just needed to learn to not piss you the fuck off.

When you get to the house, however, you see that a majority of the work has already been done for you. The only thing left for you to do is paint the walls, rearrange furniture, and unbox your belongings. The electricity and water are already turned on, and wifi has been installed with your password on a sticky note.

The master bedroom is huge and you love it, but you don't have nearly enough belongings to fill it. Your queen-sized bed looks tiny and you immediately want something bigger. So heading back outside to your vehicle, you grab your bag that has your laptop inside and head back in. Setting up at your kitchen island, you search for a place that will deliver any type of food and beverage. You find a pizzeria just on the outskirts of town that will deliver to Charming, so you place a quick order. It's a forty minute wait period, so to pass the time you start looking up bedroom ideas.

You run across a California king bed, but none really catch your eye. What does catch your eye, however, are the DIY beds that touch from one side of the wall to the other. You take your laptop back to your bedroom so see if it's do-able, and come to the conclusion that it is. You'll have to add some floating shelves since you won't be able to have bedside tables, but that's perfectly fine with you. You then take the time to get down the measurements of your room because you still have to situate your dresser and mount your TV to the wall, and you need to make sure everything will fit.

Eventually your food gets there and, sitting at the kitchen island, you dig in. You slowly eat and drink your fill, and then place any leftovers in the already cool refrigerator.

Needing some bathroom necessities and sheets for your current bed, you unload your vehicle. You place each box in their respective rooms, but leave them mostly boxed up. And not wanting to get any TV's mounted or bed fully put together since you still have to paint the walls, you remain on your laptop to pass the time and send messages to your family to let them know you're okay.

It takes you a couple of weeks to build your bed frame, get in your special ordered mattress, and paint the walls to your liking. You do most of your building in the driveway, so you've become accustomed to the people living on your street, waving at them as they pass or call out a greeting. But there's one individual everyone seems to steer clear of or avoid eye contact with, and that's your next door neighbor who rides a motorcycle and proudly wears a Sons of Anarchy kutte.

You had first seen the intimidating, bald man when he showed up a couple days after you moved in. You'd looked up when you heard the rumblings of engines and watched two motorcycles pull into the driveway next door. You paused hammering for a moment, nodded at the two men who took a moment to stare back, and then went back to work.

Over the next few days, men came and went from next door. And each time, they were intrigued watching you work. But eventually your bed frame was finished and you had to situate it in your bedroom. Maneuvering the mattress was no easy feat, but you were not about to ask for help, and it didn't take you long to finally finish furnishing your home to your liking.

As busy as you've been, you haven't really had the time to eat a home cooked meal. So after everything, you took a trip to the grocery store and bought hundreds of dollars of food and drink to stock your kitchen with.

The air is finally cool and crisp, so all the windows to your home are wide open. You'd been feeling a little restless, so you opted to cook a meal that would keep you busy. Enchiladas, rice, and beans is one of your favorite meals, so after making sure you have everything, you put a pot of beans to cook. They have to cook for a few hours, so while that's going on you get online to check in with your family.

When the beans are done, you get started on browning hamburger meat. Setting a majority of the meat aside, you use only a bit for the enchilada sauce. You pour in water, flour, spices, and some canned chili until it's to your liking, and then heat up some corn tortillas before you start rolling the enchiladas. After they're in a pan that holds far too many for only you, you pour the enchilada sauce on top before shredding some cheese atop of it. Once that's in the oven, you get started on a pan of rice.

It's when the rice is boiling that your doorbell rings. A little tired and more than a little hungry, you grab up your beer after turning off the rice, and take a swig of it on your way to the door. Since the door is wide open, you can easily see who's standing just on the other side of the screen door. It's one of the Sons, one of the only two with brown skin that you've seen so far. But this isn't the intimidating bald one, this is the one with a shaved mohawk down the center of his head and a killer smile.

You arch an eyebrow at him as he tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and you take another swig of beer as you lean against the door jamb. "Yes?"

The corner of his eyes crinkle as his smile widens. "Hi. Uh, me and my boys are chilling next door and we couldn't help but smell whatever it is you're eating. You mind sharing the name of the place where you picked up your food from so we can go get some too? Smells really good."

Your lips twitch. "Who said I picked anything up?"

"You cooking?" His eyes widen. "Bullshit."

You huff a laugh and nod. "YN."

"Juice."

"Mhmm." You push the door open just enough so you can lean out and peer next door, catching sight of two men sitting sideways on the seats of their bike. "Just you three?"

"Yeah."

You hum again and then back into your home as the screen door shuts quietly. "I've been watching you guys come and go, nodding cordially when our gazes clash," you say. "If you're willing to leave your shoes by the front door, you're more than welcome to pull up a seat at the table."

"Forreal?"

"Sure." You shrug. "I never learned how to cook for one, so I might have made an entire tray of enchiladas that will most likely go to waste if someone else doesn't eat them."

"Oh hell yeah." Juice turns, cupping his hands around his mouth as he says, "Yo! Free meal! Get over here!"

You watch as one man eagerly gets off his bike, whooping in delight of free food. The other, the one you believe actually lives next door, casually gets up at a leisurely pace. You push open the screen door as they're stomping up your porch steps, and Juice introduces you to Tig and Happy. You do your best not to smile because Happy does not look quite so happy, but he grunts a greeting when you tell them your name.

As Juice steps into your home, he's quick to kick off his shoes and tell his boys to do the same. They do and then you lead the way to the kitchen, pointing at your table. "Siéntate."

"Ohhh. A Spanish lady," Tig muses as Juice translates for him to sit down as you instructed. When you glance at him, his wild-crazed gaze makes you snort. "I like 'em a little spicy."

"And I like 'em less talkative." Happy and Juice both snort, and Tig beams at your sassy retort. "Beer or soda?"

Tig and Happy take beers, and Juice takes a soda. You serve them each their own plate of three enchiladas, a scoop of rice, and a scoop of beans. You serve yourself last with a glass of water, and finally take a seat to dig into all your hard work.

"Goddamn," Tig grumbles after his first bite of everything. "This is some Mexican restaurant level shit here."

You grin as you eat at your own pace, feeling content at watching three grown men finding your cooking delicious.

"So what's your story?" Juice asks. "In all the times I've come around, it's just you here."

"That's because it is just me here."

"Why Charming?"

You take a moment to swallow your food, washing it all down with a sip of water as you lean back in your chair. Then glancing between each man and the patches on their kuttes, you ask, "Do you want the real story or the story I'm feeding anyone who asks in polite small talk when they see a new face in the store?"

All three men slow their eating, their gazes sliding up to you in surprise.

"What's the story you tellin' the locals?" Tig asks.

Placing a hand over your heart and changing your voice so you sound like a southern belle, you say, "Just that I just left a very nasty relationship and my family thought I deserved a fresh start away from the man who dared lift a fist in my direction."

Tig snorts. "And the real story?"

You chuckle as your voice goes back to normal. "My family thought I needed to calm my inner demons, so they banished me to Charming. Joke's on them, I've made peace with my demons. It's not my fault people keep pissing me off."

Tig and Juice laugh as Happy smirks at you.

"What'd you do to earn banishment?" Juice wonders.

You shrug. "I wasn't joking about the nasty relationship. I just leave out the small detail that once I was out of the hospital, I went crawling back to my dickhead of an ex-fiancé and plotted my revenge."

"Crazy and you can cook. Marry me," Tig says.

You shake your head at him, eating a bit more before finishing the story. "I was raised to take no shit from anyone. So after he put me in the hospital, I made him believe all was well. Then one night, when he least suspected it, I slipped him a little something so he was conscious, but paralyzed, and set fire to his house."

The three men freeze, but you continue eating as if it was no big deal.

"Did you- did you kill him?" Juice warily asks.

"Unfortunately, no." You pout and then laugh at their awed expressions. "He had nosy neighbors so they were able to get the firetrucks there as soon as they smelled smoke. But when my family found out, they said I was sloppy, so I got shipped out here."

"Yoo.. what the fuck?" A moment of quiet ensues and then Juice is laughing. "That has to be the craziest shit I've heard in a while."

"I highly doubt that." Your gaze drops to the patch on his kutte. "I'm sure you've heard, seen, or taken part of some pretty crazy shit." When you meet his gaze again, you smirk. "Am I wrong?"

Juice grins and then looks at Happy. "Your neighbor is cool as shit. I'm kind of jealous." The air of amusement lingers as everyone continues to eat. "So what do you do for work?"

"I do some IT stuff for my family." You shrug. "I can work from anywhere, so I guess I'll still be doing that. What about you boys? What do you do other than ride?"

"We work at Teller Automotive," Tig says. "Only car garage in town."

"Really? Do you guys have any openings this week? I need my oil changed."

"Sure. We'll leave a number before we leave."

The rest of dinner is spent with the men telling you what there is to do in Charming and asking how long you plan on staying. You're not really sure, but if you end up liking Charming then you have no issues setting down roots. And then when dinner is done and you've seemed to exhaust all the small talk topics, you plate up the leftovers and send the men on their way.

Over the next couple of weeks, you befriend your neighbor. You take your vehicle into Teller Automotive and Happy takes it upon himself to take care of it for you. Tig and Juice had kept you company, and introduced you to a few of their other brothers when they took interest in their new friend. You were invited to one of their parties and, after some pressuring, you went. Nothing shocked you, not even a few members of the club getting head in plain sight, but Happy apparently shocked everyone else by gluing himself to your side. According to the club President, Happy was normally found in the ring outside or fucking his way through croweaters, but that night he made sure that no one bothered you.

Then more often than not, Happy reaped the benefits of your cooking and appeared for dinner before taking leftovers home for lunch.

In such a short period of time, you grow accustomed to the stern biker's company.

One morning, you're startled awake by the doorbell ringing and a fist pounding on the door. You sit up and scoot out of bed, hurrying towards your front door in a groggy, yet panicked state. But before you pull the door open, you peer out one of the thin windows on one side of your door. It takes a moment for you to realize it's Happy and that the sky behind him is still dark.

Unlocking the door, you pull it open. "What the fuck, Hap? What's going on?"

With a duffel bag hanging off his shoulder, Happy looks you up and down. "You always answer the door like this or am I just special?"

You freeze and then glance down, rolling your eyes when you remember you went to sleep in a gray wife beater, that makes it very obvious you're not wearing a bra, and a pair of hipster underwear. "Neither. You're lucky."

"Sure." You narrow your eyes at him and he smirks. "I forgot the bills were due and everything got shut off. Can I crash here until I get it sorted?"

Without missing a beat, you say, "Yeah," and step back from the door, opening it wider. "Shoes off. You know where the bathroom is and I'm pretty sure you can find the guest bedroom." You yawn and lock the door behind your friend. "What time is it?"

"Little after five."

"Happy," you whine. "S'too fuckin' early. M'going back to bed." As you pad back to your room, you don't hear any footsteps behind you. "Stop staring at my ass!"

"Can't help it. Might start dropping by early now."

"Do it and die, Lowman." Stopping and turning, you point an accusatory finger at him. "Do not come in between me and my bed. I will murder you."

His lips twitch. "Worth it."

. .

. .

It takes less than a week for Happy to get his power and water turned back on, and then he's back at his house. Though there are times when he shows up for dinner, dropping off on your couch when he's too tired to walk back home. Normally you would mind, but Happy knew how to clean up after himself, so you didn't mind that it seemed he was practically half moved in.

One night, you get a call from your brother that they need you to come in and work on cracking the passwords on a few laptops they'd gotten their hands on. You agreed, but first you needed to arrange someone to look after your house.

The next afternoon, you show up to Teller Automotive. You find Happy on a smoke break and ask him for a favor. When you ask him if he can keep an eye on your house for two days, he seems surprised, even more so when you give him a copy of your house key. You tell him he can crash there and eat whatever food you have so long as he doesn't trash the place. He readily agrees.

And when you return two days later, you realize you should have specified that he could crash in the guest bedroom. Finding a nearly naked Happy in your bed isn't half bad, nor is the firmness of his ass when you smack a hand down on it to wake him up.

Immediately he jerks awake, twisting his body as he sits up, and pointing a gun right at your face. You laugh and lick the tip of the barrel while wiggling your eyebrows at him. "Wakey, wakey."

"You're a fuckin' pyscho," he grumbles, lowering his gun.

"Yeah, well duh. You should have had that figured out a long time ago." He rolls his eyes before turning to drop down face first back into your pillow, shoving his gun back under it. You grin. "Was there something wrong with the guest room you've been using?"

"No. I just didn't know how fuckin' massive your bed was. It looked lonely without a body in it."

"Mhmm. I'm sure." He grunts and you chuckle as you crawl out of the bed. "I'm gonna go pick up some breakfast from the diner. Want anything?"

"Anything and everything."

"Gotcha. I'll text you when I'm on my way back."

. .

. .

The dynamic between you and Happy ended up changing after that fateful morning. When he slept over, it was in your bed. You hadn't crossed the line past lingering touches or innuendos, but it was a given that he was the only person allowed in your bed. You didn't care for the croweaters at the parties his club put on every Friday night, but the two of you made a statement when he rolled up one night with you seated behind him.

The Sons nearly gaped as Happy amped up his protectiveness, pulling you between his parted thighs as he took a seat on a stool at the bar. Tig and Juice had walked over, and Happy perched you on his knee as you joked with his brothers. The croweaters didn't bother to hide their glares or sneers, but you merely smirked at their cattiness and took to scratching the back of Happy's head with your nails when you'd draped your arm around his shoulders.

"So, is this a thing?" Jax, the club president, had asked.

You shrugged and grinned. "We're friends."

"Friends don't stake claims."

"We're possessive friends."

Happy had snorted but didn't correct you.

From there on out, it was known that you were Happy's.

The Sons are relaxing at the clubhouse after a long day's work when blacked out Escalades and BMW's pull up. The atmosphere immediately goes from relaxed to tense, and the Sons flank their President when he walks out to the lot to see what the deal is.

Thug after thug exit the vehicles before opening the doors on two Escalades, ushering out four well-dressed men. None of them look like they'd be a person to fuck with, so Jax is extremely curious as to what the fuck is going on.

"Can I help you?" He asks, eyebrow arches as tattooed thugs flank the apparent important men.

"I hope you can." The one in charge reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a picture. "What do you know about this woman?"

When Jax is shown a picture, he mentally curses. It's Happy's neighbor and a friend to many Sons. He keeps his expression neutral, before shrugging. "Nothing. Should I?"

"She's my baby sister."

"Oh hell…"

"YN never misses check-in and she's missed two," the man explains. "It's come to my attention that she's made some connections to Happy Lowman, Juan Ortiz, and Tig Trager- all Sons of Anarchy. Do you understand why I'm here now?"

"Fuck, man, we didn't know. What can we do?"

"You can start by questioning your men to see if they'd heard from her."

At that, Tig steps forward. "I haven't seen or spoken with YN in a little over a week."

"What about Juan or Happy?"

Jax looks at his gathered men, frowning. "Where are Juice and Happy?" No one says anything, looking as confused as their President when they don't see their familiar faces. Then raising his voice, he asks, "Has anyone heard from Happy or Juice today?" Nothing. No one utters a peep. "What about yesterday?"

"Jax." Opie has his phone to ear, shaking his head. "Both are going to voicemail."

"Shit." Then turning around to face the slowly darkening expressions of YN's apparent brothers, Jax asks, "How can we help?"

. .

. .

When your eyes flutter open, every inch of your body is in pain.

"How the fuck does my hair hurt?" You groan. You try to sit up, but realize you're on your side, on dirt and hay, with your hands tied behind your back. "What the actual fuck?" Clearing your vision, you see that you're not alone. Happy and Juice are with you, but they're in chairs with their hands tied behind their backs and looking a little beat up.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," Juice tiredly muses.

"What happened?" Maneuvering around some, you manage to sit up.

"Kidnapped," Happy says. "They injected us with some shit, but they gave you too much."

You grimace as you roll your neck. "Dicks." It's dim in the empty barn you're being kept in, but you can see sunlight through the cracks of the walls. There are stalls for animals on either side of you, all empty, and a table filled with various blades and weapons not too far away. Your aching arms are your main priority though, so you move into a crouch and wiggle your tied wrists under your butt. With a grunt, you fall backward and maneuver your hands until they're situated in front of you. "Ah. That's better."

"Get up and grab a blade so we can get the fuck outta here," Happy urges.

You do as you're told, mentally scoffing at the thought that these morons didn't think to bind your ankles. Unfortunately, you're not so lucky as someone had been watching from the shadows. So just as you're reaching for a blade, that someone jumps out at you and roughly pins you against the table.

Bent over with your arms above your head and someone pressed up right against you, you immediately start thrashing and cussing out whoever it is. Happy and Juice shout, and start wriggling in their own seats when a hand then pins you to the table by the back of your neck.

"So close, princesa." A man tuts and you jerk in his hold, but still he persists. Laughter causes you to look up, watching as another two men step out from behind Happy and Juice. "Is that anyway to talk to your host?"

"Fuck. Off."

"Oh, I will." Just then, a hand grips your waist and squeezes, and you freeze. "Just not yet. I have some questions for you."

"Don't you fucking touch her."

When you glance up at Happy, there's a look on his face that you've never seen before. You know what he does for the Sons, but you'd never seen that particular dark look or glint in his eyes, and for a moment it steals your breath away. Then you remember that look isn't meant for you, and you squirm a little as the man behind you laughingly presses his pelvis into your ass. "Or what?"

Juice answers, "Or we'll fucking kill you."

That causes all three men to laugh some more.

"Doubtful. But thanks for the laugh." Then the man behind you focuses on you once again. "Besides, my business isn't with you, but with the princesa de la mafia."

You tense. "I don't know anything."

"Aw. Of course, you don't," the man coos. "I would hope that your brothers are smart enough to never let a woman in on their secrets. But then again, you are the baby sister of one of the most dangerous mafias in the United States. I'm pretty sure you know something that I can use to hurt those brothers of yours."

You manage to angle your head just enough so you can make eye contact with Happy. He meets your stare, and you see it subtly soften, but then he's glaring at the man holding you once more. "I won't sell out my brothers."

"No?" The man releases your neck, only to trail his fingers down from your ribs to hips. "I don't want to mess up such a pretty face, but you do know there are other ways to break you and get you to talk, right?"

And then before you can answer, he's grabbing the back hem of your shirt and ripping it down the middle.

You yelp just as Happy shouts, "You motherfucker!", and squirm to get away. Across from you, Happy and Juice are pummeled a few times until they stop trying to break the chairs they're bound to.

The man rubs a hand up and down your back, fiddling with your bra strap, but never unsnapping it. You feel gross, but it's only when the guy reaches around to fiddle with the button on your jeans does red cloud your vision.

"Hey, Hap?" You manage to meet Happy's livid gaze. "Remember when I spoke about my demons?"

"Yeah."

"They desperately wanna come out to play."

"Shut the fuck up, you whore!" The man slaps you across the back of your head and you grit your teeth, biding your time.

Happy slowly smirks. "Then let them out to play, baby."

The moment the button on your jeans is opened, you scream at a pitch that startles every man in the room. Then pushing up as much as you can, you headbutt the man behind you. As he swears, you reach for the first handle you see and are pleasantly surprised to find a small machete. Then without even thinking, you whirl around and swing the blade, catching your would-be abuser in the neck with the blade.

Blood sprays as you immediately tug the blade free, leaving the man to try and cover his wound as he splutters on his own life force. From the corner of your eye, you see someone running at you, but another swing of the machete finds a home in the second man's face.

As the man falls back with a scream unlike anything you've ever heard, he takes the machete with him. Happy and Juice shout at you, and it's then you remember the third. He's running at you, a small blade in hand, and you reach for the nearest weapon. It's a metal bat and just as you rear back to swing, he swings first. The blade makes contact with your bicep, slicing it open, but you only feel the sting of it after you swing.

The bat clips the man in the jaw, stunning him. As he stumbles back, you advance. He sloppily swipes at you again, but you dodge it. The second hit with the bat hits true, catching him in the temple.

The man falls and you're quick to stand over him, bringing the bat down a third time.

The bat connecting for a fourth time makes Juice cringe, but Happy proudly watches on.

Thwack.

Thwack. A scream.

Crack!

"Shit. I think that was his skull," Juice mutters.

YN screams as she continues to wail on the man with her bat, caving his skull further and further in, to the point there's now a puddle of blood beneath his head and splattering with every pull back.

The barn doors open, and Happy and Juice tense when armed men start to file in, but they exhale with relief when they see Jax, Tig, Chibs, and Opie in the mix. All the unfamiliar men take in the scene with an air of indifference, but it's the expressions of the Sons that almost make Happy laugh out loud. They'd only known YN to laugh, feed them, or threaten the croweaters with violence. None of them, with the exception of himself, Juice, and Tig, knew the violence she was capable of.

"Uh, a little help?" Juice calls out. "My arms are killing me over here."

Tig rushes over, pulling out a blade to cut his brothers free. "What the fuck happened?"

"One of them threatened to rape her and she just lost her shit."

Juice is cut free first, and he immediately stands, rubbing his raw wrists. As Jax checks in with him, Happy is cut free.

"Boss, should we stop this?" Someone asks.

Happy looks over in time to see a guy in a suit grimace when blood is flung onto his pristine boots. "Do you want to get in the middle of that? You know how YN is. Let's just let her run out of steam."

As the guy steps back in line with a nod of agreement, Happy huffs and stands. He stalks over to YN until he's behind her. Then when she raises the bat high above her head, Happy lunges. He manages to grip the bat where it isn't slick and pulls it from YN's grasp.

Still very much livid, especially now that your weapon's been ripped from you, you whirl around to start screaming expletives and pummel whoever it is with your bound fists. Instead, arms are wrapped around you, keeping your arms stuck between your chest and another, and there's a gruff voice in your ear saying, "It's over. It's over, baby. The cavalry's here. You can stop now."

It takes a long minute for the voice to infiltrate the fog of rage, and then a moment to realize who's speaking.

When your struggles cease, Happy leans back a little to look down at you, but with his arms still wrapped around you. "You back?"

"Y-Yeah. M'sorry."

Happy grunts and leans his face closer to yours, and for a moment you think he's about to kiss you. Instead, he presses his forehead against yours as his eyes close, and he exhales with relief. "Don't be. That was hot as fuck."

You huff a quiet laugh as a bout of silence ensues, but then one of your brothers decides to ruin it.

"Hey, Lowman, we'll give you a million dollars if you give her your last name and take her off our hands."

You jerk in Happy's hold, turning to glare at all your smirking brothers. "Fuck off!" Laughter ensues at your disgruntled expression before Juice fills them in on what happened, and then Happy is tugging on your bound wrists so you look back at him before finally cutting you free. "Thank you."

One hand grasps the hair at the back of your head, gripping a little tight as he holds you in place so he can press a kiss to your forehead. "Let's get you home. You're covered in blood, and I need to take a look at your arm."

Glancing at your arm, you shrug. It stings, yeah, but it doesn't seem deep enough. And then just as you go to take a step, Happy swoops you up into a bridal carry.

It's then you notice that you, Happy, and Juice are all barefoot, and it's Juice who answers your unasked question. "You sleep like the dead, girl. Happy and I heard them enter the house, but they still managed to get the drop on us."

"I'm getting you a goddamn dog," Happy grumbles in response.

"Only if you clean up after it." He grunts and you grin. If he wanted a guard dog for you, then he was cleaning up any messes.

Outside the barn, suggestions are made about where to go now. Jax suggests the clubhouse, but at the wrinkling of your nose, Happy says you'll be going home. Your brothers mention not everyone can go because that many vehicles will draw attention, so Jax suggests sending your brothers' men back to the club with Opie and Chibs. They agree, and then you're loaded up into an Escalade with your brothers and Happy.

When you get to your house, Tig mentions that they had cleaned up and straightened your furniture after they figured out what had happened. You thank him and let Happy carry you to your bathroom while Juice takes the guest bathroom.

As Happy sets you on the counter, you watch as he gets the first aid kit from beneath your sinks. "They're gonna talk."

"Let them. The club already thinks we're fuckin'."

You snort. "Please. They should know by now that I'd never settle for a relationship where the guy gets to fuck around when he's on the road." Happy freezes with the antiseptic spray bottle in his hand before shaking himself free of thought and spritzing your arm where you were cut.

"Is that why you haven't given me the go-ahead to slip between your thighs?"

You smile at his blunt question and then wince when he wipes your arm clean. "Pretty much. I'm not a fan of my partner sticking his dick or tongue in some rando pussy, then coming home and doing the same to me." Happy grunts and you arch an eyebrow at him. "Would you be okay with me visiting my brothers and sucking someone's dick before coming home to you?"

"Fuck no."

"Exactly." You grin triumphantly. "So, unless you plan to stop dicking down croweaters or sweetbutts, the most you'll get out of me is some cuddling."

Stepping back, Happy tosses the used gauze pads into the trashcan and then reaches into your shower stall to turn on the water. Then looking at you, he demands, "Strip."

"If I fully strip, there's no going back. You're mine and mine alone." You hop off the counter, slipping off your ruined shirt without batting an eye. "I was calm and collected at your parties before because we're friends, but that all changes after this. I won't take it easy on any woman touching what's mine."

Happy smirks as he eyes you in your bra and jeans, and then strips off his shirt. "Good."

You've seen the man shirtless only a handful of times, but seeing his ink never fails to give you pause. You reach out for the first time, tracing the snake tattoo that takes up a majority of his chest and upper abdomen, before you trace the various happy faces on the side of his waist. You feel his abdominal muscles twitch and then between one heartbeat and the next, Happy's crowding you against the sink counter and angling your head up.

His kiss is as aggressive as you figured it'd be, his tongue sliding against yours and teeth digging into your bottom lip. You give as good as you get, nails digging into either side of Happy's waist as you kiss him. Then when the need for air arises, you pull back and try to catch your breath. "Well okay then."

Moving out from Happy's reach, you strip, uncaring of your nudity and then step into the steaming shower. Happy isn't too far behind you, but you're not too interested in seeing him fully naked as you are cleansing a stranger's blood from your body. Standing under the waterfall, you watch as the shower floor turns red. Happy presses in close behind you so he's under the water as well, and you straighten up before leaning your head back onto his shoulder, smiling softly at his hardness that presses against your ass.

"No funny business, Lowman. At least not until we've eaten a fuck ton and slept for a day or two."

He grunts. "Agreed."

You immediately start washing your hair, and you're surprised when Happy takes it upon himself to lather up some soap on your bath pouf to wash your body. For the most part he behaves himself, but when his thumb oh so casually brushes over your nipples, you slap his thigh and pay him back when it's your turn to wash him. He grunts when you take his dick in hand and thrusts into your soapy palm, but you quickly release him to finish washing his body.

"Fuckin' tease."

"You started it."

You get out of the shower first, smirking as Happy tells you he'll be out in a moment. You know exactly what that moment's going to entail since his hand is already stroking his cock before you can even find a towel.

"You gonna want something to eat?"

"Send Tig to get burgers and fries."

"Alright."

Back in your room, you can hear a muttered conversation from somewhere in your house. Clutching the towel around your body, you stick your head out your door. "Tig!"

"What?"

"Happy said to go get us some burgers, fries, and Cokes!"

"Do I look like a fuckin' maid?!" Tig appears in the hall, hands on his hips.

You grin at him. "No, but I do have a maid's costume. Wanna try it on?" Tig gapes and you laugh at his expression. "Come on, Tig. Please? You can grab some cash from the junk drawer."

"Fine. But only because I know Hap will murder me if I don't, not because I'm picturing you in a teeny tiny maid's outfit."

"Sure, buddy. Thank you!"

Tig grumbles as he turns to march out of your house and then you worry about getting dressed. You dress in nothing but a sports bra and boy short underwear, and then with a reluctant sigh you head to the front. Everyone's in your kitchen, sitting around your table, and your brothers groan when they see how little you're wearing.

"Oh, shut up. You've seen me in clothes like this before."

"In tights, not underwear," one brother grumbles.

"Just be glad they're boy shorts and not a g-string."

All your brothers groan yet again whereas the Sons find the interaction amusing. You take a seat at the table, grimacing a little and touching at your raw wrists.

"Let me get that for you," Juice says. He leaves to, no doubt, grab the first aid kit from the bathroom. Then taking a seat next to you, he asks, "Did Hap disinfect your arm?"

"Yeah. Just spritz it again and wrap it. It'll be fine."

As soon as Juice gets to work, Happy enters the kitchen in nothing but a pair of jeans hanging off his hips.

"Jesus," one of your brother's mumbles. "Are people suddenly allergic to clothes around here?"

You grin as Jax arches an eyebrow at his friend. "You have clothes here?" Happy nods and sits, and you quickly introduce him to your brothers while Jax looks at Juice to say, "You seem to know your way around this place too."

"It's because they practically live here when they're not at the clubhouse," you say. "Hap's moved his shit in my room, and Tig and Juice have slowly taken over my guest room." Then glancing at your brothers as if you didn't just drop somewhat of a bombshell on Jax, you ask, "So what the hell happened?"

Juice taps above one of your raw wrists and you situate them so he can disinfect them.

Your eldest brother meets your gaze. "There's a new family in town- Jimenez. They're trying to make a name for themselves and thought they could intimidate us." You scoff as your other brother's chuckle. "When they didn't get the reaction they were looking for, they came up with the bright idea to target the weak link. They thought they had the perfect candidate when they found out we had a baby sister."

"Joke's on them, you're fuckin' psycho," another brother muses.

"I'm not-"

"We literally walked in on you bashing a guy's head in."

"And let's not forget the whole reason you're in Charming is because you tried to burn down your ex's house while he was still inside."

"Or that one time you wrecked your car into that other girl's car all because she broke your friend's heart."

"That cunt cheated on him. She deserved every bit of karma I dished out."

Jax snorts, shaking his head. "Christ. You and Hap are gonna be a pain in my ass."

"You know it."

Tig shows up just after Juice is finished with your wrists. Juice then dishes out the food to you, Happy, and himself, and you get up to grab drinks from the fridge. As you settle back down, Jax and your brothers watch in surprise at how the three of you go to town on your provided meals.

"So, what exactly does one do as a mafia princess?" Jax wonders.

Chewing the food in your mouth, you only answer him after taking a drink of your soda. "I'm the family hacker. If they need a computer hacked into to gather information or scrub information, I get called in."

"So, in other words, you're female Juice," Tig says.

You laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, I am." Juice grins and you reach over to fist bump him.

You continue eating as Jax speaks with your brothers, listening as this small portion of the Sons of Anarchy are filled in about what business your family gets up to. When you're finished eating, you stand and start gathering up the trash to toss. While you're up, you grab yourself a glass of water and some Ibuprofen. Then after downing four pills, you head back to reclaim your seat at the table, only for Happy to gently grab you by the arm and tug you down onto his thigh.

Your brothers don't care about your new chair, but Jax, Juice, and Tig can't help but raise an eyebrow.

"So, is this a thing?" Jax wonders, gesturing between you and Happy.

As you drape an arm behind Happy's shoulders to settle more against him, you smirk. "What's the matter, Teller? Scared?"

He huffs and then stares at Happy, but the man beneath you merely says, "Gonna start drawing up a crow. Does that answer your question?"

The kitchen goes eerily quiet and then…

"Holy shit. Hap's actually gonna take a woman," Juice says in awe.

"This is a momentous occasion. We gotta throw a rager." The glint in Tig's eyes has you narrowing your own eyes at him.

"You just wanna see a girl fight. Don't you?"

"Hap's been possessive of you since you first showed up to the clubhouse, but now that you're staking a claim, the thought might have crossed my mind."

"Are you sure you wanna see that?" One of your brother muses. "YN might traumatize a few poor souls."

Tig smiles. "I look forward to it."

You roll your eyes at Tig's excitement about possibly seeing you fight and your brothers chuckle. The Sons really had no idea what they were in for when someone tested your patience.

Standing, you keep a hand on Happy's shoulder as you say, "Well as much as I love, like, and appreciate all of you, you need to go. I'm exhausted and I still need to sleep off whatever I was drugged with."

Jax grins. "Is that code for us to get the hell out so you can bang Happy's brains out?"

Snorting, you shake your head as your brothers all grimace. "No. I'm seriously exhausted. The fucking will come later after we're well rested. I have a feeling I'm gonna need loads of energy for Hap."

Your brothers all make noises of disgust as they stand, and you take a moment to hug and kiss each of their cheeks on their way out. You promise to call when you're feeling better and then you're ushering the Sons out as well.

Locking up after everyone has left, you head to your room where you find Happy stripping off his jeans. He's in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs as he pulls your blanket back before sliding under and you pad over to do the same. You meet him in the middle, laying on your side as you drape one arm over his abdomen. With your head on his arm, you snuggle closer and Happy reaches for your leg to have it draped over his thigh so you're as close as can be without actually laying on top of him.

"Were you serious? About the crow?" You ask right before you drift off.

"Does that freak you out?"

"Not really. But if I get your mark, you're getting mine."

Happy huffs. "And just what is your mark?"

"My lips and name." You run your hand across his abdomen before walking your fingers down to one of the few empty patches of skin, below his belly button and right beneath where the snake's tail curls. "Right here."

"Above my dick, you mean?"

"Mhmm."

Happy grunts and then squeezes you a little tighter to him. "We'll see, princess. Now get some sleep."

[mysticalmallard]

♥︎ Defending Their Girlfriend ♥︎

🦆:These were all supposed to be drabbles, but I got a bit carried away, so they are more like oneshots and I didn't want to edit any of them down. Because they all came out so long I've only done Jax, Juice, Kozik, Tig and Chibs. I may do a separate one another time for Happy and Opie if that is something you guys want ♥︎

SoA Taglist: @arkytiorlecter @aimkatsz @ravennaortiz @darqchilddaydreamz @mischiefnevermanaged89-blog @hatersaremymotivators @theshynerdsworld @thefrogytimes @youngadult9016 @meera10

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

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️ : VIOLENCE, ABUSIVE BEHAVIOUR, SEXUAL ASSAULT, CREEPY MAN, SEXIST men, swearing and other general SoA Warnings there is nothing too graphic but if you don't like reading about any of the topics listed please DO NOT read the rest of this post!!!, ONLY YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE for your OWN media consumption!!! ⚠️

SoA Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Jax

On a hot summer night, Jax and his girlfriend were out for a night walk, enjoying the quiet streets of Charming together.

As they walked, a group of young men, all of them a little tipsy on alcohol, passed by. One of the men catcalled Jax's girlfriend as they walked by, making a crude and sexist comment.

Jax took immediate offense, gritting his teeth in anger. He stepped up to the man, who looked startled by the tall, furious biker suddenly in his face.

"Excuse me?" Jax growled, his eyes locking onto the man who had made the inappropriate comment.

The man took a step back when he spots the club patches, suddenly realizing who Jax was.

"N-nothing, man, it's cool," the man stuttered out, trying to backpedal. But Jax wasn't satisfied he was already too angry. The other guys had stopped and were starting to circle, realizing the situation was getting heated.

"Oh, it's *not cool*, man," Jax said in a dangerous tone, his eyes flickering to the other guys slowly surrounding them. Jax wasn't worried, though - he lived for this. The tension in his body made it clear he was ready to defend his girlfriend, his pride at stake.

His girlfriend tugs at his sleeve worried "Jax it's okay...let's just go"

"Nah, this isn't okay, babe," Jax responds, his voice firm but gentle. He turns his head to look at his girlfriend, seeing the hint of worry in her eyes. He softens slightly. "He's disrespecting you. Me. *Us*."Jax turns his attention back to the man who started this whole thing. "You need to apologize. Now," he demands, his voice a low rumble, his eyes fixated firmly on the guy.

The man, still looking nervous but a little bolder behind his friends, scoffs and throws a cocky grin. "And if I don't?" He asks in a mocking tone.

Jax's eyes narrow, anger flaring again. He closes the space between them, getting right in the man's face. "Then you're gonna have a huge problem on your hands." The threat in Jax's voice is clear.

The man shoves Jax back when he gets in his face Jax stumbles back, but catches himself quickly, the shove only adding more fuel to his anger. He takes a step forward again, his shoulders squared swinging at him connecting with the man's jaw.

The man falls backward, clearly not expecting Jax to strike so quickly. The other men hesitate, not expecting to deal with a fight.

Jax stands over the man, glaring down at him. "Don't ever disrespect my girlfriend again," he snarls.

The man is clutching his face, a look of fear in his eyes as he looks up at Jax. He nods shakily. "S-sorry, man," he stutters out, clearly intimidated.

"Now apologize to my girlfriend," Jax's tone is firm. He's not backing down until the guy apologizes properly.

The man looks up at Jax's girlfriend, shame on his face. He mutters a quick, "Sorry, ma'am."

Jax's girlfriend looks relieved, but she's clings onto Jax's arm standing close to his side, clearly still feeling uncertain about the situation.

Jax looks down at her, silently asking if she's okay with the half-apology. She nods slowly, looking somewhat reassured.

Then, Jax looks back at the man on the ground, eyeing the other men who are still standing around, ready to step in if necessary.

"This is your only warning. Don't say that kind of shit again." Jax's voice is cold and firm. The message is clear - he won't tolerate anyone disrespecting his girlfriend like that again.

Juice

Juice and his girlfriend were sitting on the couch in his living room watching tv, when suddenly, she received a phone call from her parents. She reluctantly answers already knowing what they were gonna say. They were trying to convince her to end her relationship with Juice. Juice overheard bits of the conversation and could feel the tension in the room. He knew that they disapproved of their relationship.

Juice squeezed a pillow in frustration, but he couldn't just sit there and let her parents talk her out of their relationship without a fight.

He took the phone from her hand and took a deep breath before speaking. "Hey, I know you don't approve of this relationship, but I love her and I'm not going to let you talk her out of being with me without giving me a fair shot."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, but he could hear her parents murmuring in the background. They clearly didn't like his interruption.

"Listen I am sure you have some good qualities or our daughter wouldn't date you, but we don't want her dating some criminal thug from a motorcycle gang," her father said, his voice filled with disapproval.

Juice clenched his jaw, stung by the man's words. He couldn't help but feel the anger rising within him, but he tried to keep his cool.

"I may be in a motorcycle club, but I am not some mindless thug. I have a brain, I have a heart, and I have feelings just like anyone else, and i love your daughter sir...I don't know what she sees in me to be honest with you...she could have anyone she wants and she chose me...but I am going to stay with her as long as she wants me to be" he said with clenched teeth.

There was another moment of silence on the other end of the phone as her parents continued to murmur in the background.

Juice could feel the tension building up inside him, but he was determined to prove that he was worthy of her love. He glanced back at his girlfriend, who was sitting on the couch beside him, her eyes watching him intently. She gave him a small smile, knowing that he was defending their relationship fiercely. He smiled back at her before turning his attention back to the phone.

Her father spoke up again, his voice now filled with a hint of annoyance. "Look kid, we just don't want our daughter mixed up in some dangerous lifestyle. Motorcycle clubs are not known for their stability or their law-abiding ways, and we don't want her getting hurt or in trouble."

Juice took a deep breath before responding, his voice firm and steady. "I understand your concerns, sir, but my club is not like that. We have rules and structure and we take care of our own. We don't just go around causing trouble for the hell of it."

"But you DO cause trouble, don't you?...you say you love our daughter, but you can't, not if you want her involved in that lifestyle," her father says matter-of-factly.

Juice closes his eyes and sighs, stung by her father's words. He knew that her father had a point. His life in the club was dangerous, and he had seen firsthand how it could cause harm to those he cared about. But he couldn't deny his love for her. He couldn't just easily walk away from her.

" I know the life isn't perfect, sir, and yes, sometimes there is trouble, but I promise you I would never let anything happen to your daughter. I would protect her with my life. And as far as loving your daughter...I do, I love her more than I could even explain to her...but i am gonna try my best to show her every damn day"

Her father was silent for a moment, as if contemplating his words. Juice could hear him talking to his wife in the background, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. He waited anxiously for his response, his heart beating faster in his chest.

Finally, her father spoke up, his voice slightly more compassionate than before. "Look son, we love our daughter and we just want what's best for her. We want her to be happy and safe, and we're afraid this life you're involved in will only bring her pain."

"Come visit let me show you, meet me atleast before jumping to conclusions with gossip you hear from people who don't know me or the club....your daughter loves you guys so much and I don't want us being together creating tension in your relationship with her" he sighs down the phone trying to find someway of fixing things.

Her father was silent for a moment, mulling over Juice's invitation. He could hear him speaking to his wife in the background, and Juice could only hope that he was coming around.

Finally, her father spoke up again, his voice filled with resignation. " Fine, we'll come meet you. But we're only doing this for our daughter's sake, not yours."

"Fine with me, sir," is all he says before hanging up.

His girlfriend scoots over to him. "What did they say? They weren't rude were they? I swear I've told them so many times the club isn't a gang but they don't listen" She rattles off nervous to what was said.

He gently holds her face, looking in her eyes to get her to stop rambling. "Hey, hey, don't worry about it," he says, trying to soothe her. "It was a little rough at first, but I managed to calm them down. They agreed to come meet me."

"They did?" She asks in disbelief. "How did you manage that? I've asked before, but they said they were too busy"

He laughs softly, amused by her surprise. "I can be pretty convincing when I want to be," he jokes. "I just spoke my mind and made it clear I was serious about you. And I guess your dad didn't want to stand in the way of his baby girl's happiness."

He tightens his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. He can feel the warmth of her body against his and the softness of her hair against his cheek. He nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her familiar scent.

"I'm here for you," he whispers, his voice low and intense. "I'll always have your back."

Herman Kozik

Kozik pulled up to his girlfriend's house but as he pulled up he saw her standing outside with her ex. The ex was yelling and she was crying, with tears streaming down her face. Kozik gets off his bike and could immediately sense the tension in the air.

The ex, noticing Kozik's presence, turned and scowled at him. "Who the fuck are you?" he spat.

"I'm her boyfriend," Kozik replied, trying to keep his cool. "And you need to back off from her, man."

The ex's face contorted into a sneer. "Boyfriend?" he said, his voice dripping with venom. He turns back to her "are fucking kidding me with this shit?...huh? we were just having a little spat and you go and sleep with some biker dickhead..huh? I always thought you were a bit of a whore but really? I give you your space and you treat me like this?.." With every word the ex steps closer to her, she steps back as best she can away from him until she's against the building.

"w-we broke up. You kept cheating on me so I ended it. Its been 5 months...please just leave" she says shaking.

The ex lets out a scoff as he continues his advancement on her, he's just a few steps from her now. Kozik doesn't like the look on her face and steps between the two of them putting himself in front of her. "Back off man, I'm not going to tell you again." Kozik's tone is firm as he shoves him.

The ex stumbles back, a look of anger and disbelief on his face. "Who do you think you are, you biker trash?! You think you can come here and take my girl? She's mine!"

Kozik stands his ground, not backing down. "She's not your girl anymore, she's mine and she asked you to leave, so do it."

The ex takes a step forward, his hands balling into fists, "Or what, you're going to kick my ass? I'd like to see you try biker boy"

Kozik keeps his cool, staring the ex down. "I don't want to fight you man, but I will if you don't leave. She doesn't want you here."

Kozik looks over his shoulder at his girlfriend she looks terrified.

His voice softens, "Go inside love, i'll be in after" he says not wanting her nearby should things get violent.

She shakes her head softly glancing between them "n-no...please I don't want you to get hurt"

"I'll be fine baby please go inside" he pleads with her and she relents slowly walking around, the ex hurling insults at her as she goes when she goes to move past him he lunges forward grabbing her wrist causing her to scream.

The moment he touches her Kozik tackles him to the ground. He was caught off guard as Kozik takes him down. The Ex landed hard on the gravel, his back hitting the ground with an "oof". He tried to get up but Kozik was already on top of him, pinning him down.

"YOU DONT FUCKING TOUCH HER!" He screams in his face. The Ex tries to struggle against Kozik's hold, but it's no use. Kozik's grip is tight and strong.

"Get off me!" the Ex snarls, but Kozik just presses down harder, his face inches away from the Ex's. The ex turns his head to the girlfriend "you fucking see what you've done huh? You little whor-" Kozik doesn't let him finish punching him in the jaw.

"YOU SHUT UP DONT CALL HER THAT"

The ex let out a groan as Kozik punched him. His head slumped back into the gravel, reeling from the impact.

"You bastard!" he groaned, but Kozik didn't let up. He leaned forward, his face just inches away from the Ex's.

"You listen to me and you listen well," Kozik growls. "You're going to leave her alone. You're not going to speak to her, you're not going to call her names, and you're sure as hell not going to touch her again. Do. You. Understand?"

The Ex nods, his expression a mix of anger and fear. Kozik lets go of him and stands, taking a step back. The Ex sits up, his jaw sore, and glares up at her.

Kozik blocks his view standing in front of his trembling girlfriend.

The Ex gets to his feet, his hand rubbing his bruised jaw. "You think this is over?" he spits.

"It's over when she says it's over," Kozik replies, his voice hard and determined. "And she's already made it clear she doesn't want anything to do with you."

The Ex opens his mouth to reply but stops himself, his eyes darting between Kozik and his girlfriend. He clearly wants to say more, but he knows he's out matched.

"You're done here," Kozik says firmly. "So do yourself a favor and save yourself the beating and leave. Don't come back." Kozik stares him down, daring him to do something after a long while the ex stalks off back to his car across the street.

Kozik stays in a protective stance in front of her until the car disappears around the corner.

The moment he is out of sight he turn back to her. She's shaking, her eyes wide and tear-streaked. Kozik gently cups her face with his large, calloused hands, his expression softening.

"Baby, it's okay," he says soothingly. "He's gone. I'm here. You're safe now."

Kozik wraps his arms around her, holding her tight against him. He rubs soothing circles on her back, trying to calm her down.

"Shhh, it's alright love," he murmurs into her hair. "I got you. I got you."

They stand like that for a few moments, her clinging to him like a lifeline, him holding her close and protective. Finally, she pulls back a bit, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. Kozik brushes the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, his touch gentle and caring. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you, alright?"

Tig Trager

Tig was at her place when the doorbell rang. Tig, being the gentleman he is, answered it for her.

"May I help you, ma'am?" Tig inquired to the older woman waiting outside.

The old woman glares at him, her eyes narrowing as she looks him up and down. “You’re making too much noise! Always driving that loud motorcycle, playing music late at night. It’s completely disrespectful!”

Hearing the womans shrill voice his girlfriend comes up behind him knowing he has a short fuse with these kinds of things. "I'm sorry, we'll try to keep it down from now on" she says not wanting to cause any issues with her neighbour.

The old woman huffs, clearly not satisfied with the response. “You young people have no respect these days. In my day, we knew how to behave properly. But I guess your generation doesn’t care about how your actions affect others, do you?”

Tig’s temper is reaching its boiling point, but he manages to keep his cool for now. "Respect goes both ways, lady," he says, his tone cold and calculated. "We’ve been keeping the noise down as much as we can. Maybe you should try investing in some earplugs or something."

The old woman looks affronted by Tig’s response. “How dare you speak to me like that! I have lived here for years before she even considered buying that house, and I will not be disrespected by some biker thug!”

Tig’s temper ignites at her words. “Biker thug? You call me a thug?” he scoffs, his voice rising in anger. “I was a Marine. I fought for this country. What have you done besides sit in your rocking chair and complain?“

The old woman looks taken aback by his words, her eyes narrowing further. “I don’t care what you’ve done. You’re still making too much noise and disturbing the peace. Maybe she should consider moving if you can��t handle living in a civilized neighborhood.”

Tig’s fists clench at his sides as he struggles to keep his composure. "Civilized neighborhood? You call this place civilized when all you do is nag and complain? Maybe you should learn to mind your own damn business and stop worrying about how loud we are."

"You watch your tone, young man! I have the right to live in peace and quiet, and I will not let some criminal with a bad attitude tell me otherwise." The old lady’s eyes flash with anger.

Tig is on the verge of losing his temper completely. "Criminal? I’m not a criminal," he says through gritted teeth. "And you don’t have the right to tell her what she can do in her own home. We’ll keep the noise down as much as we can, but we won’t be silenced just because you don’t like how we live."

The old woman huffs again, clearly not satisfied with Tig’s response. "I’ll be watching you. One more loud noise and I’ll call the police and repor-."

Tig doesn't let her finish and just slams the door in her face mumbling under his breath "Damn old lady." He huffs, turning to face his girlfriend. "Can’t she mind her own damn business? People these days, I swear. I bet shes just all pissy cause she ain't getting any... do you think Piney would take one for the team?" he asks jokingly pulling a giggle from her. "But seriously," he continues, his expression turning serious. "Don’t let her give you any grief....but you know you would have any issues if you just live with me....we can be as loud as we want there." He says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively putting his hands on her hips.

"I know, I know," she says, giggling again as she rolls her eyes at his antics. "And as tempting as that offer is... Its a little too soon for us baby...besides I dont think you can handle all this every day...do you think you could keep up old man." she says, running her hand over his chest.

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I can definitely handle it baby doll." He says, his hands moving up her sides. "I can keep up just fine. In fact, I could probably wear you out before you could wear me out." He grins, pulling her closer to him.

"Wanna prove it, Trager?" She challenges peering up at him through her lashes.

A sly smirk spreads across his face as he eyes her up and down, taking in her seductive curves. "You bet your sweet ass I do," he growls, his hand moving to her hip, pulling her flush against his body. He cups her chin, lifting her face up to meet his gaze. His eyes darken with desire as he leans down to her ear, his breath hot on her skin. "You're playing with fire, darlin'," he whispers, his voice low and rough. His arms snake around her waist, pulling her closer still. His hands wander down to her ass, giving a firm squeeze. "You sure you can handle it?"

She gasps softly as he touches her, her body responding to his touch. "I can handle anything you throw at me, Trager," she whispers back, her eyes locking with his.

"Is that so?" He grins, nipping at her ear. "We'll see about that."

He scoops her up into his arms, holding her against his chest with ease. He strides over to the couch, setting her down on it before crawling over her, his body covering hers. He takes her wrists in his hands, pinning them above her head. He gazes down at her, his eyes filled with hunger and desire. "You still think you can handle it, doll?" She shivers as he holds her pinned beneath him, his body pressed against hers. She can feel his heat, his strength, the hardness of his muscles.

She meets his gaze boldly, a smirk playing on her lips. "Oh, I know I can handle it. But can you handle me, old man?"

He chuckles moving his lips hovering over hers but a loud knocking comes from the door once more causing them both to groan

"I CAN STILL HEAR YOU" The voice of the woman breaks through ruining the moment.

Tig growls in frustration, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. "Damn it," he mutters. He sits back on his heels, running a hand through his hair "Let's just ignore her hmm? she has to leave eventually"

She sighs "Tiggy, baby, we are not having sex in earshot of that woman total mood killer"

He sighs heavily "I could kill her if you want.. I'm sure no one would miss the old hag" he offers only half joking.

She swats his chest laughing "Don't you dare, she'll end up haunting me forever" she pouts.

Tig laughs, amused by her playful swat. "Okay, no killing the old bat," he agrees reluctantly holding his hands up.

"But seriously, how do we shut her up? You deserve to be able to make as much noise as you want in here without being hassled by some nosy neighbor."

She pauses, thinking for a moment. "I don't know... maybe I could talk to her again and try to reason with her. Or we could get some soundproofing for the walls."

He frowns thinking for a moment "...or you could just move in with me...you could sell this place or rent it out...I have a spare room you could turn into your own space if you want...I dont think it's too soon" he asks again completely sincere.

She looks at him, surprised by his proposal. "Move in with you? But... are you sure? I mean, it's a big step."

She can see the sincerity in his eyes, and a part of her is intrigued by the idea. Living with Tig would certainly be different than living alone, but the thought of waking up next to him every morning is pretty appealing...

"I'm sure," he says firmly. "I want you closer to me, and it would solve the nosy neighbor problem. Plus, I could keep you safe easier."

He reaches out and gently tucks a strand of her hair out of her face. "Besides, I like the thought of waking up with you every morning."

Chibs

Chibs and his girl were at the mall, walking up to the escalator hand in hand. While going up, Chibs' sharp eyes caught sight of something unpleasant. He saw a man standing a step bellow them discreetly aiming his phone under his girl's dress, attempting to take a picture.

Without skipping a beat, Chibs snatches the phone out of his hand. He holds it firmly, staring the man down. The creep froze, realizing he'd been caught, his eyes darting around nervously.

Chibs' grip on the phone tightened. He glanced at his girl who was visibly uncomfortable and quickly caught onto the situation, her cheeks flushing with anger.

"Ye thought ye could just take pictures of my girl without being seen, eh? Not on my watch," Chibs growled, his voice low and dangerous.

He opens the phone Chibs flicks through the images on the man's phone, each one more sickening than the last. His anger mounts as he realizes this creep has been a repeat offender, taking pictures of alot of unsuspecting women at the mall.

His jaw clenches tightly as his eyes narrow on the man, his voice dropping dangerously low. "Ye got quite the habit, don't ye? Takin' pictures up lassies' skirts without their knowledge," he seethes.

He hands the phone to his girl, making sure she sees the evidence. She looks at the pictures, her expression a mix of disgust and anger.

"I'll take care of this, don't ye worry," Chibs reassures her, turning his undivided attention back to the guy. His voice is firm and commanding, "Ye've got some explainin' to do, laddie. What's yer name?"

But they've reached the top now the man quickly trys to scramble past wanting to get away. Despite the man's attempt to flee, Chibs' reflexes are lightning fast. Before the guy can take 2 steps away, Chibs seizes him by the collar, yanking him firmly back.

"Nah, ye ain't goin' anywhere," Chibs hisses, his grip like iron, effectively boxing him in.

A small group has gathered around seeing the commotion his girlfriend quickly explains what's going on with a shaky voice so they don't get the wrong idea about what Chibs was doing handing the phone to a dad wearing dog tags with his two teen daughters so he can see for himself. The dad looks at the phone, his expression hardening as he sees the pictures. He passes the phone to one of the older girls, who also peeks at the images. She gasps, her hand flying to her mouth.

"Oh my God," she whispers.

The crowd surrounding them grows, with murmurs of disgust and outrage. Chibs holds the man firmly, his eyes scanning the gathering crowd.

The dad and few other men from the crowd help him hold the man down on the ground, none of them caring if they hurt him or not.

The man squirms in the grip of Chibs and the other men, but it's useless against their combined strength. Chibs holds him tight, his eyes narrowing angrily.

"Nuh-uh, laddie. Ye ain't gettin' away from this," he growls.

One guy in the crowd heads off to fetch mall security, and they arrive within a few minutes, taking the situation in.

The security guard approaches Chibs and the rest of the men holding the man prisoner. "What's going on here?" he asks, a sense of authority in his voice.

"This creep was takin' pictures up my girl's skirt on the escalator," Chibs explains, his voice a dangerous rumble.The security guard's eyes widen slightly as he nods in understanding, he then turns to address the man. "Is this true?"

"I... um... I...," the man stutters, his protests falling flat under the intense gazes of Chibs and the others.

"Save yer excuses, laddie," Chibs interrupts, his tone firm. "We all know what ye were doin'. There's the proof, right in yer damn phone."

The security guard nods, taking the phone from from her to have a look. His expression hardens as he goes through the images. The man's face is a mask of shame and fear as he's cornered.

"Alright, we'll be taking him into custody, and call the police" the security guard says to the crowd around them. "You can all return to your day now."

The people gradually disperse, the thrill of the spectacle wearing off. Chibs nods at the security guard. "Make sure he pays the price for what he's done," he adds, his voice hard and unforgiving.The man is taken away by the security guard, struggling but ultimately unable to escape.

Chibs turns to his girlfriend who still looks shaken. He puts his arm around her, pulling her close.

"Are ye alright, love?" he asks gently, his voice softer now the immediate threat is gone."I... I think so," she says quietly, her hand clinging to his. "I just can't believe someone would actually do that."

Chibs tightens his grip on her, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Aye, it's sick. But ye don's have to worry about him no more. He's goin' to get just what he deserves."

Chibs gently kisses the side of her head, his lips lingering against her hair. He draws her closer to him, his strong arms wrapping around her protectively.

"I'm sorry ye had to go through all that, lass," he murmurs, his voice soothing. "Don't worry, I'm here for ye."

[brunettemarionette]

Gemma sighs as she talks over the phone. "…no, she doesn't have any open appointments for the next few months. I have Tig, Juice, or Opie free?… okay well, I'll book you in with her if anything opens up. Bye." She sighs putting the phone down walking outside.

The guys were all standing watching you bent over the hood of a car, looking into the window, with your overalls on, arms tied around your waist, and a cropped vest. "Does anyone work around here?"

They all scurried away in case you turned and notice them staring.

The matriarch of the club sighs before giving you a once over and staring at your ass until she notices Clay staring at her with a smirk. "Stop staring at the kid's ass while she's working," he says teasingly.

Gemma just smirked, whispering in her husband's ear as he rubbed a hand over his chest, "I will when you do, baby."

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: two hearts, too good at breaking

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: this argument has been needing to happen for a while but an angry girlfriend and a closed off boyfriend are not a good mix…

warnings:

a/n: thanks for reading 💗💗

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @eternal--dream @shattered-glass-roses @book-nerd-emi

I spin around, anger has me in a chokehold contorted fingers wrapped tightly around my neck, I’m ready to burst, “is this what it’s going to be like?”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Grayson scoffs, with an expression that doesn’t betray any hint of emotion if he is feeling it.

Typical man with his typical habits. I wish for once he’d just show me that he at least cared about this. Us.

“Don’t twist this Grayson, don’t you dare,” I seethe, my eyes blazing with some sort of wildfire that would surely burn him alive, “don’t make me the problem.”

He leans back lazily, resting his weight on the counter, “I’ll be the problem then, that’s fine,” he shrugs nonchalantly, making me want to punch him even more than I already did.

How could he act so cool and collected? As if none of this was actually bothering him? How was it fair? I could feel tears prickling in the corners of my eyes and the lump wedged in my throat rapidly expanding. I don’t want to be this emotional, I don’t want him to know how much this is hurting me.

“No,” I reply coldly, abruptly.

I try to mirror him, pushing down all my own feeling and casting my mind to a blank state so that my feelings could not penetrate.

“Then what do you want?” he asks, a dead withered look flashing across his gray eyes.

I make a frustrated noise. So much for staying unbothered. My emotions tend to run riot with an odd reckless abandon, I couldn’t contain them no matter how hard I tried.

He’s twisting my words, playing with them like a well fed cat would a dead bird, “it’s not about what I want,” I hiss.

He raises an eyebrow sharply, “seems like it,” he deadpans.

“So you’re happy like this?” I snap, “this constant tension between us, the aching silences, avoiding this argument all the time?”

It had been going on for far too long now and I am too exhausted, drained with the weight of it all. He could shut it out, he could close off his feelings, he could easily stay unaffected through avoidance. But me? I’m not like that. Every tiny thing hit my heart with a tiny bullet, slowly bleeding it dry.

“You’re the one who created tension in the first place,” he replies with a snarl, a glimmer of anger seeping through his composure.

Good. At least I know there is something beneath his stupid defence mechanism, something that maybe even cared.

“No I didn’t,” I counter fiercely, “things got hard for you and you ran off alone and then came back and acted if nothing had even happened.”

“What do you want me to do, wallow?” he sneers, “did you want me to come home and cry in your arms? I have a life, I need to get on with it.”

“Oh thanks,” I laugh bitterly, running my fingers through the knots in my ponytail, “no what I wished you would’ve done was at least address that you’d gone, why you’d gone, how we were going to work things out, but you didn’t! You did nothing!”

“Why keep bringing up the parts of the past we want to forget?” he asks me, some sort of strain ripping across the middle of his sentence.

“Because you can’t just bury everything under the carpet,” I sigh, tired of the endless row of bulletproof walls he puts up to keep me out, “eventually it’s going to all be revealed.”

“So what you’re asking me to do is tell you every minor inconvenience in my life,” he states flatly, “as if discussing them will make them magically disappear.”

“I’m not asking for that,” I snap, before reeling my annoyance in for a moment, my voice softens, “I’m asking for you to trust me.”

We can’t keep on like this, it’s not healthy, it’s not right, it’s not normal.

“I do trust you,” he replies, without missing a beat.

It’s an instant reaction, a reflex but they’re still empty words. He wants to trust me, but he can’t. I can see it so clearly in those glossy gray eyes.

“It’s clear you don’t,” I reply, “you don’t tell me anything, you don’t talk about your feelings-“

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he tells me numbly.

My heart almost gives in to his blank face and deadened eyes. It hurts to see him so devoid of emotion, so empty. I wish sweet kisses and loving whispers could wash away all that was wrong, but I fear there’s too much for even the ocean to clean.

I shake my head, “you can’t play the hardcore card with me.”

“I’m not playing any card,” he snaps, his face contorts into a sour and twisted look, “my life isn’t a game.”

Idiot me, using a card comparison. It’s like rubbing salt in his open wounds and watching them marinate.

“I know it’s not,” I say gently.

His eyes softened for a fraction of a second before they iced over again. The bitter frost would take a lot more than a kind voice to thaw. He breathes deeply.

“I need to get out of here,” Grayson says, standing up to make a b-line for the door.

I lunge forwards and stand in front of him, arms folded. I look up at him, wide eyes pinning him into place. He stops, almost frozen and stares right back at me.

Of course he could’ve easily walked around me, lifted me up and moved me out of the way or simply just told me to stop. But he does nothing at all and continues staring dead at my face.

He doesn’t want to leave, not really.

“You’re not leaving again,” I tell him firmly, “you can’t just walk out when things get hard, that’s not how we work.”

He sighs and turns around, walking back to the kitchen. I follow. He leans against the counter top, arms folded. In any other situation I would’ve found this incredibly attractive.

“How do we work then?” he finally asks me, more quietly than he’d probably intended.

I look at him with tender eyes and say seven small words, “I need you to need me too.”

“I do need you,” he replies fiercely, a fire in his eyes reminding me of my own for a moment, something I couldn’t ignore.

He does care. He cares like I care.

“You don’t act like it,” I shake my head, biting my lip to stop the tears from spilling over.

And then something snaps and it’s not me this time.

“But I do!” he raises his voice, a desperate longing vibrating across his vocal chords, “you know I do!”

“No I don’t,” I explode, blinded by my own white hot anger, “you keep everything so bottled up!”

“I don’t,” the words are sharp and definitive, ending with a hard monotonous sound.

I groan in frustration, contemplating ripping my hair out, “why won’t you ever just let me all the way in?”

“I can’t,” he falters, maybe the first glimpse of the real him I’ve seen in this whole conversation.

He looks down at the floor, his head dipping down slightly. Grayson Hawthorne always held his head high. I’d broken him.

“Why can’t you,” I press on further, like a child still trying to play with a broken toy.

I know I shouldn’t push him, I know I’m being impatient but I have to know why. I’ve tried the patient route but it hasn’t worked.

My heart won’t beat for anyone else the way it beats for him. I love him too much to let this end over a miscommunication, we’ve been through too much to throw it all away. Whatever it is, we’ve always gotten through it, that’s how we work. I’m not letting go, even if he thinks he wants to.

“I just can’t,” he says to me, as if that explained it all.

An internal argument flickers across his face, his eyebrows draw themselves closer in the slightest of ways and I can see he’s biting the inside of his lip so hard I fear it might bleed.

“That’s not an answer Grayson,” I reply, not backing down, my rational thoughts are consumed by feeling, governed by pure heart and no head at all.

He runs a hand through his hair, all the way to the back of his neck, “I can’t do this.”

“What? This? This relationship?” I question trying not to let the fear creep into my voice.

“No, of course not,” he snaps with an eye roll, causing me to deepen my scowl, “why can’t you just accept that I can’t let you in?”

Oh if only it were that easy.

“Because,” I shout, “you’re meant to be able to trust me with everything and anything.”

“Well I don’t,” Grayson snaps back, his tone bitter like the cud, “I don’t trust anyone, don’t take it so personally.”

Tears spring back to my eyes, my voice quietens, “I’m not anyone.”

“No…” he exhales shakily, pausing for a while, “…you’re not.”

Silence engulfs us, its flames happily licking at our feet. I feel the weight of his gaze against mine, our eyes locked together in a trance. In the space of no words, too much is said.

He looks like he’s physically in pain. The dark circles rimmed under his eyes are bolder than ever, thick smears of black, like war paint. His cheeks seem hollower, his eyes less bright. Am I stealing his spark? Is this my doing? As if he can read me, like an open book, he shakes his head in the slightest of ways. If I’d blinked I might’ve missed it.

“You can’t keep doing what you’re doing,” I murmur hoarsely, unable to control my own voice, “it’s not fair on me and it’s not fair on you.”

He breathes out deeply, his voice low, almost husky, “some things are just too much, okay?”

“Nothing should be too much for love,” I say darkly, taking a step towards him.

He doesn’t back away but doesn’t move any closer to me. Again, he enters his paralysis. I dare to get closer still and then ever closer. I trail gentle hands up his arms, shoulders, then neck until finally they reach the sides of his face. I pull his towards me, so his forehead is pressed against mine. I can feel him breathing, the soft warm air tickling my face.

“I am here Grayson,” I whisper, a tears falling from each eye, spilling over only to roll down my cheek and land on his shirt, “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

His hands find their way to my waist, his fingers tighten around it, knuckles going white.

“If I let you all the way in,” he chokes out, “you’ll see me for who I really am…” everything falls still, time itself stops, “…and everyone who has ever seen that part of me walks away.”

My heart twists, aching and throbbing in my chest.

“It’s not pretty sweetheart, it’s not pretty at all,” his voice shakes. It is soft, so vulnerable, so open.

He’s trying to show me he does trust me, he just doesn’t know how to let himself. The tenderness intertwined in his tone is enough to make me melt.

“And I don’t think I can afford to watch you walk away,” he shake his head, eyes glossy with tears, “I’m selfish like that my love, I don’t want you to leave.”

I shake my head, biting my lip to prevent a sob for escaping. You’re not selfish is what I want to tell him but I can’t formulate words. Tears freely pool down my cheeks and even Grayson lets one slip. It slowly trails down his cheek, leaving a glistening path behind it.

All the words I want to say get lodged in my throat, so I bring his face closer to mine still and let my lips do the talking.

His face is hot against mine, his hands feverishly cling to every inch of my body. The kiss tastes like a mixture of salt and passion and anger and fear and all of the feelings in between. I could feel his agony on my tongue like he could feel my fury.

I kiss him more roughly, not bothering to contemplate that either of us might need to draw back for breath. He needs this, I need this. Grayson’s hands find their way to my hair, clamping around large thick chunks of it, fingers getting lost and tangled between the strands. Not that either of us care. He’s craving me now more than ever, I can feel his mouth desperately crashing into mine. I bite his bottom lip gently and he a strange sort of sound escapes the back of his throat, something between pleasure and pain.

We continue until our lungs physically burn and force us to stop. I rest back, gulping in as much oxygen as I can. My lips tingle as my chest heaves up and down rapidly. My hands are almost shaky.

I look up to meet his gray eyes. His face is flushed and lips red raw. He looks more alive than I’d seen him in a while. He almost manages a smile, eyes hungrily grazing over my whole body.

He sighs, still out of breath, “what’s even wrong with the way we are now?”

“You’re seriously asking?” I ask. He stays silent. “We can’t just kiss and make up.”

“Why?” Grayson says, something pleading in his expression.

“You know why,” I falter, closing my eyes and massaging my temples, my head thumping all of a sudden.

“What is so bad that we can’t just leave our argument here and move on?” he asks me, something lighting up on his face, some false hope that I’ll soon be to one to crush.

I sigh, falling into a silence of my own. I usually have all the words to say. I still do, too many in fact so I take my time to choose carefully. He almost seems impatient for my answer.

“You don’t communicate,” I say softly, the truth harder said than I’d imagined.

He snarls at me, “I can’t communicate when you don’t say anything.”

“I’m saying everything now,” I tell him, more emotion pouring itself into my tone without being invited to, “but you’re refusing to hear me.”

I wonder if his lips miss mine as much as I miss his. I keep having to scold myself to not glance at them. If only this could all be solved with a kiss.

“I’m not refusing,” he presses on, his jaw tense, “I just don’t understand.”

“Okay maybe this’ll make it clearer,” I state simply, “you don’t get to shut me out.”

Bitter. Harsh. Cold. All the things I loathe coming out of my own mouth. It is the bluntest way I could’ve put things.

He shakes his head and chuckles darkly, “you say you understand me but you don’t, if you understood me you’d know that this is how I deal with pain.”

“That’s not healthy,” I bite back with a bold ferocity.

“It might not be healthy but it’s me,” he tells back, hitting his chest, “take it or leave it.”

“Neither,” I snap, folding my arms and standing my ground with a look of challenge written across my face.

He looks exhausted, “it can’t be all your way all of the time.”

I am exhausted too, “I’m asking you to open up to me,” I say, my throat sore and dry, “why is it so difficult?”

“It just is.”

“Look I’ve given you time Grayson,” I tell him desperation creeping up into my voice, another uninvited visitor, “I’ve done my waiting and I’ve given you space and I haven’t complained but it’s been years and it’s taking a toll, surely if you don’t feel at ease to open up to me now then you never will. I mean you talk to your brothers about everything, why do I know less than them? We’ve been together two years Grayson, two whole years!”

“And I knew Emily my whole life,” he practically growls, each word venomous, a poison spat into my face.

The taste of his lips sour in my mouth and my face immediately pales. I stop, freeze, my body stills completely. I don’t even realise I’m holding my breath until my lungs beg me for oxygen.

So that’s what he thinks. That’s why he can’t trust me.

“You think I’m like her?” I say, my words so quiet I don’t think they can qualify as spoken.

“That’s not what I meant,” Grayson says immediately, the guilt settling.

“You think I’d do something like that to you,” I ask slowly, carefully.

“No,” he tells me, reaching out to touch my arms. I pull away, I can’t have his fingers on my skin. He hides his hurt well, just not well enough from me. “But you have to understand I was played once and I won’t be again.”

My heart drops, plummeting into the acid in my stomach. I’m empty. An odd sort of numbness crawls under my skin, creating a barrier between my flesh and hot blood so I can’t feel anymore.

“I really thought you knew me,” I whisper, my chest aching in the absence of what‘s supposed to beat there.

“I do,” he says.

I shook my head, “if you knew me you know I’d never do that.”

“I didn’t mean to-“

“Bring up your awful ex and compare me to her?” I snarl, the emptiness leaving more space to fuel the fire of rage within me.

He sighs, “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

“You think?” I raise a brow, hugging my folded arms tighter my body in attempts to assert a challenge.

He grits his teeth. He hates her sarcasm. “I don’t have time for this,” he snaps, turning on his heel to walk out. I’ve pushed him over the edge.

“You never have time for this,” I scoff, throwing my hands up into the air as I follow him, “you can’t avoid me forever, you can’t hide behind paraphrases and excuses,” I cut in front of him, “it’s not fair.”

“That’s not fair?” he laughs, the sound hollow as it bounces off of these four walls, “you know what’s not fair? This. This, here what you’re doing to me,” he seethes, “why are you making me feel guilty for who I am?”

“This is not who you are,” I bite back, “I know you Grayson Hawthorne, I know ever inch of you, every curve of your body, every fibre of your being. I know what makes you laugh and what makes you cry, I know when you’re trying to hide your pain, I know how to read your eyes, I know where your favourite place to be kissed is, I know how you take your coffee, I know why you sleep on your side, I know when you like to go for a swim and how it makes you feel, I know what you’ve been through, I know your deepest fears, I know who your grandfather was and what you think of yourself because of it. I know the immense pressures you put on yourself, I know the expectations of yourself you have, I know how you view your being, how often you judge it. I know why the violin is your favourite and what Frank Sinatra song you’d listen to forever. I know you’re long sighted because you read too much when you were younger so you have to wear glasses. I know you Grayson,” I say, pausing for air, “and this coward in front of me is not you, it will never be you.”

Silence hits me like a bullet train. All the air is knocked from my lungs leaving my belly aching.

“Clearly you don’t know me well enough,” he says roughly, his voice is hoarse and jagged like his voicebox has been scratched, “because this is me, all of me.”

“It isn’t and you know it,” I reply searching his face with desperate eyes. He’s masking his feelings, it’s an instinct, his instinct. This argument is pushing him further away from me.

He looks at me, “do I?”

“Yes,” my voice shatters as I run my fingers through my hair, “I love you goddamit Grayson Hawthorne.”

“People have lied with those words before,” he quips, the bitter taste of betrayal probably still dancing on his tongue.

I can’t stop myself from flinching. The words sting like a fresh slap across the face. He almost looks sorry.

“Can’t you see I mean it?” I murmur, emotion swelling in my chest.

“I don’t know anymore,” he says, digging the knife deeper into my wound, “I don’t know who to trust, what I can trust, even my own judgment.”

“Me,” I beg him, shakily breathing in, taking his hands into my own, “trust me.”

He stares for a moment, his eyes and my own connected on an invisible string that seemed it would never break. I squeeze his fingertips gently as my own voice echos in my head. Me. Trust me.

I wonder if he can hear it too.

He pulls away and shakes his head, “you want something perfect.”

“I never said that,” I explode immediately, my temper with a mind of its own, “you’re putting words into my mouth-“

“But we’re not Avery and Jameson,” he says slowly, almost carefully.

The comment catches me off guard completely and I still. Is that what he really thinks? My hands, now glued to my sides begin to shake a little. I try my very hardest not to lose it.

“I don’t want to be Avery and Jameson,” I tell him firmly.

“Then stop acting like it,” Grayson seethes, with a raw sort of anger he usually keeps so well in check.

“I’m not!” I yell, letting my own rage run free like a burst of lighting cursing a stormy sky, “you’re just jealous that your brother handles his feelings and actually talks about them with his girlfriend.”

“I am not jealous,” he grits through his teeth.

“And you’re too proud to admit any of it,” I add more fuel to the fire. I can’t help myself. I’m flawed in the same way that he is too, I’m too angry and he’s too suppressed. I’m striking too many nerves and he’s constantly blocking my love.

What a mess we are.

“So what is it exactly that you’d like me to do” he asks me, each word coated with the sourest venom, “waddle home and cry my sorrows to you each evening? Should we make a club?”

“Oh don’t be facetious,” I tusk, rolling my eyes at him.

“I’m just asking,” he shrugs, taking a step in, “what is it that you would like me to do?”

He knows what he’s doing and he’s enjoying it. My face screws up in annoyance.

“It’s not that simple,” I say, “and you know it.”

“Oh,” he replies, amused suddenly. The sudden change in persona made me uneasy, it’s as if he is changing tactics in his head. He steps another inch closer to me, “so you can have things that aren’t simple to explain but I can’t?”

Yet again my words have been twisted by the master of loopholes.

“You’re blowing things out of proportion,” I tell him.

“No I think you are!” he says, his face achingly close to my own, “let’s not forget when I left for three days, I came back to a girlfriend who wouldn’t talk to me.”

His lips sit there with a taunting temptation. I want them.

“Because you left me for three days,” I snap. I feel him exhale. “No word, no warning, just a message through your brothers and then you come back and say nothing,” I almost laugh, “you think I don’t know that you’re in pain, you think that’s not killing me inside?”

“I don’t want my pain to be yours too,” he raises his voice, sending my head pounding.

“When are you going to get it into your head?” I falter, the agony ripping across my raw throat, “we’re meant to share the good times and the bad, we don’t get to choose.”

“But I am choosing,” he tells me, jabbing the left side of his chest harshly, “and I’m choosing only the good.”

“That’s what you don’t understand,” I say, only just realising my face was damp, “this is what comes from hiding from the bad, this explosion of an argument that’s making us fall apart.”

Grayson shakes his head, stubbornly, running a hand over his mouth, “this argument is a result of us both being over stressed and over tired.”

“You’re in denial constantly,” I sob, “about everything, even this.”

“In denial?” he sneers, “fine, you want the truth? This, whatever we’re doing now, is killing me, it’s tearing my insides apart, I can feel my heart being picked apart bit by bit, still beating, still bleeding but slowly dying and I can’t do a thing about it.”

“I can do something, let me do something,” I beg him, my lips quivering, as I cling to his arms, my last desperate attempt to make him see.

He stares at me, his knuckle grazes my cheek wiping away my tears. He bites his lip and shakes his head, “you can’t help me. I think I’m past the point of help.”

“You have to try Grayson,” I whisper my voice shaking like a child left in the cold, “please.”

His hands are now on my hips and they suddenly grip tighter, “…I can’t.”

Everything in me falls down, plummeting into the core of the earth to be incinerated. I can only look at him, his darkened eyes and paled face. He looks sad, empty, lonely.

“What will make you happy again?” I ask him in a murmur.

“You make me happy,” his voice breaks, “we make each other happy.”

I shake my head with a trembling bottom lip. “I don’t think we do anymore.”

He looks like physically in pain and I wonder if his internal organs also feel like they’re being squeezed.

“Why don’t we just break up then?” he whispers.

I stop. The world stops. My heart stops. My head stops. Everything is blank, like a canvas that was bought to be painted but will never be beautiful. The words register in my brain but somehow I still don’t quite understand them. My chest throbs and my legs are like jelly.

“What?”

My voice is barely audible in the silence and when it does finally sounds sort of strangled.

“You said it yourself,” he says, a single tear rolling slowly down his cheek, “we don’t make each other happy, I’m hurting you and you’re hurting me, is there not only one solution to solve it?”

He wants to break up.

It hits me hard, knocking everything out of me. I can’t breathe. I jerk out of his touch immediately, recoiling from the feeling of his fingers on my hips. My face burns as tears uncontrollably pour down my face.

“Fine,” I say, my voice wobbling like a newborn calf trying to walk.

“Fine,” he snaps after me.

We stand there in silence and stare. Neither of us move, it’s like our feet are glued to the floor and our muscles have stopped working altogether. Neither of us want this to be the end but somehow it’s already ended. It’s so quiet I can hear him breathing. I want to forget it all, this day, this argument, this tension. But we can’t change any of it.

Not now.

“I’m leaving,” I tell him finally breaking the silence.

As I turn I hope he might call out after me and tell me to stay, hoping someone might wake me up from this horrible dream, hoping it’s all some elaborate joke that had been taken to far.

None of that happened.

I don’t even look back. I just leave. I don’t know where I’m going. I just run. By the time I collapse I’m on the pavement, heaving for breath like a madwoman. My legs just give way beneath and I crumble to the floor. My face is wet before the rain starts. What have I done?

I knowww some of you are desperate for the dancer and the angel part 5 and I actually PROMISE this time it’ll be the next TIG fic out!! Hope you enjoyed this one anywayysys 💖💖

TIG masterlist

[thelov3lybookworm]

Mine?

Summary: Grayson's world is about to turn upside down.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: ehehehe

•○🌑○•

Grayson sighed, rubbing at his brows.

"So you're telling me we need to get Y/n's approval for this project?"

"Yes." Aaron Galathynius stared Grayson down until he looked away, frustrated.

"But she is missing. She won't answer my calls, and you refuse to give me her location. What am I supposed to do?"

Grayson was sure that even if she hadn't been ignoring him like her life depended on it, she would have rejected the idea without even considering.

Galathynius gave him an unamused glance before turning to the papers spread on the table. "You do know that's my daughter you're talking about."

Grayson refrained from letting him know exactly who he was talking to. That without Grayson's grandfather, the Galathynius family would still be some nobody business, hoping desperately to make it.

But he only stopped himself only because he was friends with Aaron's daughter and would do anything to talk to her again, and fighting with her father was probably the fastest way to make sure she never talked to him again.

Grayson sighed again, picking up his coat and shoving his arms through. "Call me when you are ready to answer my questions, and maybe we can proceed."

Turning, Grayson stalked over to the glass doors and stormed out, letting them swing shut behind him.

Once in his car, Grayson pulled out his phone, staring at her contact name. She would not pick up, Grayson knew. She would leave it ringing just like she had been doing over the past year.

But still, trying to contact her was better than wondering about what he had done wrong for his best friend to ignore him so.

So he tapped his screen, and stared until the call cut off by itself after ringing for a good few minutes.

Grayson sighed, turning to stare out the window at the scenery that passed by.

Gray knew sleeping with her was a bad idea, but he hadn't been thinking. He hadn't thought that it would get this serious when he refused to apologise.

But he'd just found out about Eve's betrayal a few hours before Y/n had visited him in his bedroom and he wasn't really thinking, and that led to things escalating faster than Grayson could understand. And the next thing he knew, he stared down at her limp and spent form in horror, sated with the pleasure he had delivered.

She had smiled at him softly before she realised he did not look happy. Then she had shot up, reaching out for him. He leaned back, staring at her before stumbling out of bed. He could see her heart breaking, but he could not let himself think too much about the fact that he was the reason she got hurt.

"This was a mistake."

He'd mumbled out the three words that had broken the friendship that the two of them shared, and as he walked away towards his wardrobe to clean up, he could have sworn he had heard her curse him.

Heard her heart shattering.

But he could not bring himself to care as he hurriedly put on clothes. When he'd stepped out, she was nowhere to be seen, the clothes he had ripped off her body and discarded haphazardly on the ground gone, the only thing left behind her lingering scent.

He had seen her once after that, coming out of his mother's house when he went to visit her regarding something about the foundation. She'd had tears in her eyes and her arms wrapped around her body, as if to protect herself. He had tried to talk, but of course, he had been ignored.

Now, as the Hawthorne house rolled into view, Grayson told himself what he was about to do was not wrong. That this decision was for the best.

"Zabrowski? I need you to find someone for me."

•○🌑○•

The apartment complex looked posh, but it was nothing compared to what Grayson was used to. Still, he had to give it to Y/n. She had always been good at picking out the perfect things.

Grayson stared at the elevator door, making sure he did not let his anticipation and nervousness show as he neared the fifteenth floor, where Y/n had taken residence in according to Zabrowski.

Zabrowski had also mumbled something about a child in passing, but Grayson had forgotten all about it until a few hours ago.

As the elevator doors dinged open and Grayson stepped out, he wondered if Y/n had finally found someone. Wondered if she had stopped just having hopeless crushes and actually acted on her feelings for whoever, that maybe she was now pregnant as he rang the bell of apartment 1502.

He got his answers the moment the door in front of him opened, and out peeked the head of his best friend.

"Y/n."

Her name escaped him on a thin exhale, a weird feeling spreading through Grayson's chest. He watched as her lips parted in shock, her eyes only widening a fraction.

"Grayson?"

He dared to smile at her. "It's me-"

A loud cry broke the moment between the two, and Grayson's interest piqued when Y/n whipped around, letting go of the door as she ran towards where the sound was coming from.

Grayson knew it was wrong of him to push the door open and look for himself. but he could not help the curiosity.

He watched as the simple white button up shirt she was wearing puffed a little with air, her leg muscles flexing and contracting as she moved, stared as her shirt rode up a little to show the denim shorts she was wearing.

He watched as she ran towards the couch set in front of a wall of glass, looking out over the forest of buildings, and bent to...

Pick up a baby.

Looking at her cooing softly at the child was a shock to Grayson's system as she had always said that she did not want kids, or at least not until she had seen the whole world and was far older.

Grayson was damn sure she could not have seen the world in just one year, so either she had changed plans, or the baby was unexpected.

Grayson also knew he had been her first time.

Horror spread through his chest when Y/n turned around a little, smiling down at the... blonde baby with grey eyes wearing a cute litte pink onesie, who giggled back at Y/n. Her mother.

Grayson could not take his eyes off of the child, and it was a long moment before Y/n turned to him fully, her eyes widening.

Grayson finally glanced up, meeting his best friend's eyes. His voice cracked when he finally spoke, his eye stinging.

"Mine?"

Y/n did not reply, stalking over to the door and slamming it shut in his face. The loud crash echoed in the empty hallway, the sound deafening, heartbreaking.

But Grayson did not pay it much attention, the only thing ringing in his ears his own voice asking the question and the unsaid answer.

Mine?

Mine.

•○🌑○•

General Taglist (only tagging people who i either know read these books or people who sked to be tagged in everything 😉) : @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @berryzxx

[drakoneve]

How do you think tig would be with a cat person since he's the resident dog lover?

ooo okay okay!!

so the first time Tiggy comes over to your place you'd already pre-warned him that your two fluffy felines, Margie and Skit, would be curious about him. He didn't think anything of it at first because cats are cats.

In all his years Tig had never connected with a single cat the way he had his precious dogs. Cats were too independent for Tig, who needed the emotional connection of a more dependant loyal little friend. But he knew, from the way you spoke of them, the way your face light up as you turned the key and pushed your front door open to be greeted by Margie and Skit, that these cats were something special.

That evening as you made dinner in the kitchen, Tig was determined to befriend your kitties. He first started with the treats you handed him, which warmed Margie and Skit up to the biker.

As you chopped vegetables to fry, you stole glances into the living room. Tig had shed his precious kutte and his boots to sit on the floor. He had one of your feather on a stick toys in one hand playing with Skit, the other hand petting Margie who laid next to his thigh.

Tig looked up just then to catch your eyes. His face broke out into that big goofy smile you loved. "I think they like me, baby," he says triumphantly."

You smile at him, heart swelling with the love you had for this man. "I had faith in you, Tigger."

"Really, I should have known," he shrugs. "Pussies usually like me."

You can't help but laugh and shake your head before turning back to dinner. "Oh my god. How did I not see that coming?"

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Bad Guy x Reader

I am currently in my Natural Born Killers nostalgia, and so I'm borrowing its vibes and bringing you this: a bad-to-the-bone, rock-and-roll attitude yandere who constantly makes you question your own morality. Featuring an old OC!

Content: gender neutral reader, violence, murder, male yandere

He fell in love with you at first sight. A goody two shoes, quiet and obedient. Shy. Oh, terribly shy. You couldn't even meet his eyes. He knew you were the kind others would step on, take advantage of. But there was more to it, much more to uncover.

Who was it? A relative, a friend, a coworker? You know, that person holding you back, keeping you in your place. The one who'd always make you feel small and insignificant. The one who would always find something to criticize. How did it feel when you found them on the ground, bashed in and bloodied up? He was standing above the lifeless body, catching his breath, a cocky smile plastered on his face. His way of courting you.

He looked so tall in that moment, towering above your hesitant self, his gaze of a confidence and intensity you'd never known before. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get in", he said, gesturing towards a convertible he most likely stole earlier that day. What possessed you in that moment to join him without delay? Was it his charisma? Or did you know in the depth of your soul that he wouldn't take no for an answer?

You see, he's known it from the beginning. Someone like you needs someone like him. You’re a sweet little lamb lost among the wolves. The world would eat you right up if you were left by yourself. But now you have him. And he won't let his precious prey get away. Oh, dear, no. If he wants something, he gets it. And he's never wanted anything more than you.

"You didn't...even tell me your name", you sheepishly spoke up from the passenger seat, trying to keep your mind away from the crime you'd just witnessed. "Just call me Tig", he said casually with a yawn, speeding away. "Won't you be in trouble, Tig? Why would you even kill-" you tried to reason. "What kinda question is that? They treated you like shit and it pissed me off." He glanced at you with a frown, taking another drag off his cigarette. "You're mine now, so whatever happens to you is my business. Got it?" You just stared. Was that his way of asking you out?

Tig lives by his own rules, as you quickly learned from becoming his companion. Always on the run, indifferent to the world. For the most part, to your surprise, he's well-behaved. If people don't mess with him, he doesn't mess with them. Simple as that.

Anything involving you, however, sets him off terribly. Like a rabid, ferocious guard dog, he's ready to pounce on whoever approaches you the wrong way. Last week you stopped at a highway diner for coffee, and on your way back to your table, you jokingly pulled a clumsy dance move to the song playing from the speakers. Tig observed you with an amused smile, sipping from his cup. A passerby joined you, resting his arm on your waist flirtatiously. Tig's smile dropped in an instant, and next thing you knew, the whole place was splattered in blood. No one made it out.

"I didn't even finish my coffee", you whined, already used to the occasional massacre. The man hopped behind the counter and threw on a bloodied cap. "What will it be, sir/ma'am?" he pretended, dangling a takeaway cup and starting the espresso machine. "I never told you, but I used to be a barista", he declared proudly. An entirely different person from the unhinged killer you witnessed minutes ago. "What? You said you were a mechanic", you questioned with raised brows. "That's also true. I'm a jack of all trades, I suppose. You know what I'm best at, though?" He lowered himself until his forehead touched yours. "Pleasing you."

The man is romantic in his own way. He twists the key, and the engine stops. You follow him out of the car in confusion. "Why did we stop here?" He briefly lifts himself up onto the tall fence securing the bridge, and inhales deeply. "Isn't it a nice view?" he says, nodding ahead. It is a scenic sight, sure. The river slithers along the lush valley, and the setting sun gives everything a dramatic tint. "Give me your hand", he suddenly demands as he goes to grab it himself. Before you can ask for an explanation, he quickly drags a blade across your palm, and you wince in pain. He repeats the gesture with his own hand, locking his fingers with yours over the rail. You watch as fresh blood trails along your skin, eventually falling into droplets and vanishing into the river. "Now we're going to be everywhere", he remarks playfully. "Okay, but what was the point?" you insist, a little baffled.

"Isn't it obvious? Maybe this will help", he continues, procuring a ring from his pocket. "I'm saying I want to marry you, (Y/N)."

You open your mouth to answer, but he already slides it up your finger, eyes glimmering in excitement.

"You're never getting away from me, love."

[bullet-prooflove]

Finally here to see a prompt day post… hopefully I’m not too late to ask for something…

Could I get: Tig Trager OR Bishop Losa with “It’s kinda hazy these days, 100 proof and smoke clouds fill my head”

Thank you!

Set just before Real

The first time Tig lays eyes on you he’s both drunk and high. He’s been toking up all afternoon with a couple of the boys and that followed into an evening session at the clubhouse.

By the time he gets to the party at Cara Cara, he’s beyond inebriated. He’s looking forward to getting his hands on one of those porn stars, he’s had his eye on the red head who does the cheerleading vids for a while.

He’s been in the place less than three minutes when he bumps into you, literally. You’re a pretty little thing, hair tied back into a messy bun, bookish glasses on your features. You’re the only one in this place who doesn’t have their tits out, it makes him sit up and take notice.

You don’t spare him a second glance, instead you mumble an apology, your gaze fixed firmly on the tablet in your hand. It’s the disinterest that captures him, you don’t even see him, you barely acknowledge his presence. It sends a thrill straight down to his cock.

There’s a lot of weird shit that gets him off but this with you it’s something else.

It becomes a game after that, trying to get your attention. The more dismissive you are, the more impassive, the more he gets off on it. He goes home after each interaction and jerks off thinking about how hard you’d make him work for it, how you’d have him on his God damn knees. It’s enough to drive a man demented.

All that other pussy it becomes too easy, too boring.

When he walks into the next party at Cara Cara he's one hundred percent sober and he only has eyes for you.

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