#jackson teller

[daisydamed]

this is character development

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Hi can I request a smutty 3/e/32 cause of the heatwave reader shaves Jax Tellers hair. She wears a tiny dress with nothing under it cause it's too hot. and while Jax is sitting there and she's standing in front of him doing her thing he's going insane cause of that dress and starts stroking her thighs n more which leads to sex in the bathroom 🥵🥰

Heatwave.

3. "Will you let me cut your hair?" + 32. "Can I touch you?" + e. Heatwave

Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here. my first ever Jax fic - god this man is so gorgeous !! anon, i hope you don't mind that i chose to cut his hair rather than shave it - because the idea of shaving his blonde locks breaks my heart honestly :( thank you for this request!! x

my other jax fic.

Pairing - Jax Teller x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut!! cursing

Word Count - 890

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

You can't watch him struggle any longer.

Jax is in your driveway, working on his bike in the blazing sun. He's shirtless, golden skin on display, sweat dripping down his back. He looks like he should be on the front cover of a magazine.

You can see him becoming irritated. His hair keeps falling into his face, getting into his eyes. He repeatedly pushes it behind his ears, to no avail. It just falls again. You're worried he's going to pull it out in a fit of rage, honestly.

"Jax?" you call, rising from the porch to make your way towards him.

He turns when he hears you call his name, beaming smile on his face. The smile falters slightly when he takes in the sight of you. You're wearing a short, colourful sundress, material swishing around your mid thighs. It hugs your body in all the right places, thin straps revealing your lack of bra. He takes a deep breath upon your approach, begging his mind to stop racing with the filthy thoughts.

"Hi, darlin'," he drawls, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. You're wearing your cherry lip balm, and it takes everything in him not to bend you over the bike right there.

"Will you let me cut your hair?" you ask sweetly, throwing your arms around his neck.

"You want to? Thought you liked it long."

"I do, but it's getting in your way. Just let me take a little length off? It'll stop it from falling in your eyes."

He smiles at the realisation that you've been watching him struggle and could no longer bear it. An angel, sent just for him.

"Okay, baby. Let's do it," he says, kissing you again. Abandoning his bike, he picks you up around the middle and practically carries you inside.

You pull a chair into the bathroom and gesture for Jax to sit while you rummage in the drawer for the hairdressing scissors. When you find them, you move to stand between his legs, big blue eyes watching your every step.

Jax places his hands on your hips while you run your fingers through his hair, combing it gently. You're deciding how much to take off, surveying carefully. You know he won't mind either way, but you still want to make it look good.

You start snipping away, ignoring the beads of sweat that are dripping down your back. It's the hottest day of the year so far, and your air conditioning can only do so much. You wish you could walk around with your shirt off like Jax. He probably wouldn't mind, actually.

His hands migrate from your hips to your thighs, stroking up and down gently. He's making it hard to concentrate, so you double down on your focus, determined to finish the job. Neither of you say anything about the way your breathing has quickened, or the way his is now deep and laboured. His fingers brush higher, and you put the scissors down on the counter.

"What are you doing?" you question teasingly, placing your hands on his shoulders.

"Just sitting for my haircut, ma'am," he answers cheekily.

"Do you try and put your hand up all of your hair stylists dresses, Jackson?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," he winks.

His eyes darken slightly as they rake over your body, up and down. He wraps a strong arm around your back, pulling you into him further. The other hand is still tracing patterns on your inner thigh. He dares to move it higher, and lets out a guttural groan at what he finds.

"Fuck, honey. Are you wearing panties?"

"Nope," you reply, popping the 'P'. "Too hot."

He rests his head on your stomach and trails his fingers along the crease of your thigh.

"Can I touch you?"

"You are touching me, Jax."

"No, baby. Can I touch you here? Please?"

To emphasise his question, he brushes his fingers over your clit lightly. You jolt at the sudden contact, throwing your head back.

"Yes, Jax. Please."

You're suddenly grateful for the grip you have on his shoulders. Your knees are buckling already, balance unsteady. God, this man knows how to play you like a violin.

"No more teasing," you pant. "Need you."

How can he say no to that?

He's fumbling to unbutton his jeans, pushing them down his thighs. He pulls you forward so you're straddling him, and lines himself up. In one swift stroke, you roll your hips downwards and he slides home, both of you groaning.

"Fuck, darlin'."

"Shit, Jax. Please."

You use his thighs and his shoulders as leverage, moving yourself up and down. He thrusts upwards, meeting your strokes, sending pleasure prickling down your spine.

"This fuckin' dress," he groans. You giggle, and the vibrations drive him wild.

He can tell you're close when your hips start to stutter, rhythm faltering. He doubles down, thrusting up with more force. Jax bites down on your shoulder, and it sends you over the edge, white hot and blinding.

Your climax triggers his, hips not stopping until you're both spent and boneless. Your foreheads are pressed together, panting.

"I'm gonna buy you a hundred of these dresses," he chuckles.

"Fine by me," you reply, kissing him deeply.

"Good."

"Might need one with sleeves, though. Something's gotta cover this bite mark."

[secretlysamcro]

“Cherry Pie”🐦‍⬛🦇

Female reader x Jax Teller

Request 001

💀Swearing, nothing too smutty (I’m 100% doing a part two btw) - If you’re under the age of 18, haven’t finished the show or dislike any of said topics, please read no further.

Request:

“Hey hey, I saw your post and wanted to req a jax x reader where there’s no Tara and he’s pined for reader since high school? Maybe he’s asked her out a few times and been rejected bc she’s nervous to get involved with the club but finally he wares her down for a date and she’s surprised with how damn romantic he is with her?”

Back story:

Jax and y/n go way back, high school years to be specific. Despite y/n’s consistent rejection, it never changed his affection for her. Jax understood that her reluctance to get involved with him may have stemmed from her nervousness about his affiliation with the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club. Although she knew they helped the town out a lot… she had also heard rumours of the darker aspects that took place behind the closed doors of their clubhouse.

[7 years ago - the last time you saw jax]

“So this is how it ends, huh?” Jax says, his muscular frame towering over you as he leant against the lockers. “Not even one date?” He questions, puzzled by your lack of interest.

Jax’s words hang in the air, as you feel a slight heat rising to your cheeks. Despite the undeniable attraction to him, the life that you know he’s associated with seems somewhat overwhelming and intimidating.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips, as you looked him up and down. “Good luck prospecting Jax” you genuinely wish him well. You’d heard the whispers that Jax was officially going to be joining the motorcycle club that held significant pride for both him, and his late father.

Jax called out to you as you turned to walk away, his voice stopping you in your tracks. “Wait…y/n” he says, sounding curious. “Is that the reason you’ve never gone out with me…you got a problem with the patch or something?”

You scrambled to find the right words, feeling a mixture of concern and unease. “No…I just… I didn’t say that… I…” you manage to stutter out, not wanting to give Jax the impression that you thought badly of the patch.

Jax eyes you up and down, with that familiar Teller smirk on his face. It confirmed his skepticism. Your fumbled words hadn’t convinced him and he could tell there was more to your hesitation than what you were admitting.

“I’ve…heard things” you say softly, not wanting to offend.

“What sorts of things?” He raises an eyebrow, as he places his cap on his head - backwards of course - the words ‘reaper crew’ displayed proudly.

“Just things” you snap back, trying to avoid the conversation all together.

Jax chuckled slightly, entertained by the fact that others were talking about the club behind his back. He knew the rumours floating around held some sort of weight but no one would be able to prove anything.

“Well y/n” Jax said almost possessively, “you could’ve just said from the get go that you don’t fuck with the biker life, I would’ve left you alone” Jax delivered a playful and gentle punch to your shoulder before turning to walk away, his movements showing a hint of hurt and annoyance. It was clear that your words had struck a nerve and he was upset by your response.

[present day]

"Fuck," you cursed under your breath as you heard the sound of air escaping from some part of your car. Frustration boiled inside of you as you realized the cause of the sound - a popped tyre. You gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands, aware of a nearby garage that was just a few minutes away.

Pulling into the Teller-Morrow garage, you couldn't help but chuckle slightly as memories of your high school days flooded your mind. You had spent most of your time dodging the Prince of Anarchy, and now, seven years later, here you were - in his very domain - needing something from him and his club.

As you navigate the lot, you park your car in an empty space just in front of the garage. You give a courteous smile to the two older men working on different vehicles inside the garage as you make your way up to the main office door. As you push through, entering the world of SAMCRO for the first time, you hear the gentle jingle of the overhead bell.

Sitting behind the desk is a short and cheerful man. His presence peculiar yet inviting. As he waves a friendly greeting you mentally question the unconventional digits on his hands. One real finger on each hand whilst the others seem strangely unfamiliar, you realise after getting a closer look that they are prosthetics.

“Bonjour Madame!” he says, perfecting his French accent. You laugh slightly, not expecting the foreign greeting. Once he learns about your flat tyre, he assures you that it will be taken care of right away. He invites you to take a seat in the waiting area as he works on getting things sorted for you.

As you cautiously settle onto the worn leather sofa, you scan your surroundings in the office. Half naked women grace the walls, Harley Davidson memorabilia, skulls and grim reapers placed around wherever there was space. Small, crumpled ‘to do:’ notes thrown about, adding to the slightly chaotic atmosphere.

Your attention was interrupted abruptly by the deafening roar of motorcycles entering the parking lot. One by one riding in and parking with practiced ease. You maintain a watchful eye as you watch each of them dismount their bikes, all rocking the same attire - a leather vest with the bold words ‘SONS OF ANARCHY’ stretched across their backs accompanied by a menacing reaper emblem. One biker in particular, standing out to you.

You watch as the familiar man in question walks towards the office door with a nostalgic stride - one you’d notice anywhere. However, when he entered he remained absorbed in his phone, oblivious to his surroundings, oblivious to you. “Chuckie, have you heard from my mom?” He questions, his voice shattering the silence. His voice has grown matured and slightly rougher since the last time you had heard it.

“Non, désolé” the man you now know is called Chuckie responds.

“You know, I preferred it when you spoke in riddles” Jax says, a hint of frustration in his tone. He seemed somewhat agitated by the apparent change in Chuckie’s communication style.

Chuckies shoulders sagged slightly, and his tone softened as he spoke… “I accept that” he replies as he acknowledges Jax’s frustration.

“He said he hasn’t seen your mom” you declare, suddenly making Jax aware of your presence. He looks up from his phone, a mixture of surprise and curiosity flickering in his eyes as he lay them on you.

Upon realising your identity, his eyes widen in a sense of delight “y/n… as I live and breath” he exclaims, the unexpected reunion seems to overshadow any other thoughts or concerns he previously had.

“In the flesh” you say matching his sarcastic tone. Jax extends his hand, offering a helping grip to guide you up from the sofa. In a gesture, he pulls you into an embrace, pulling you in a surprising but comforting warmth. You feel the distinct texture of the patch on the back of his kutte, each thread carefully holding in to place the emblem of the reaper that marks his club.

As you both pull away, you take note of the ‘President’ patch that jax wears proudly.

“President huh?” You say with slight shock, but jax is able to detect the proudness in your voice.

Jax responds with a cocky remark, his tone laced with playfulness though. “Yeah… I guess you could say your luck helped me get here” he shoots back, referring to the last words you had spoken to each other all those years ago.

You open your mouth to rectify those words you spoke to Jax, but before you can, he cuts you off.

“I’m just messin’ with you y/n. What brings you here anyway?” He peers out of the office door, noticing a unfamiliar car. “That yours?” He questions.

Before you can respond, Chuckie, who had been silently observing your exchange from behind the desk, pipes up.

“sa voiture a un…” Chuckie stops abruptly as Jax shoots daggers with his eyes, another attempt at asking him to stop with the French bullshit. “Sorry boss… flat tyre” he says, back to his usual voice.

“Find someone and get it sorted, now” Jax says, excluding absolute authority. Chuckie rushes off from behind the desk and makes his way into the garage.

“I accept that” he says once more.

Jax notices the unspoken questions etched onto your face, the curiosity obvious in your expression. “Don’t ask” he laughs lightly, moving even closer to you.

“You know, y/n your tyre popping so close to the clubhouse might just be fate trying to bring us back together” he smirks his tone light but teasing.

In the short moment that it takes for Jax’s words to leave his lips, your mind is already racing through the different types of men you had dated in the last seven years. Polished, corporate types, the stereotypical ‘good guys’. The realisation that neither of these types ended in the relationships that you desired. Perhaps, just maybe, it was time for something riskier something more tempting. Maybe it was time to choose a different path.

“Not you still tryna get a date out of me after all these years” you respond, attempting to mirror his confidence. Jax can hear the playfulness in your tone, and it only helps to boost his ego further.

He shrugs his shoulders, at you with a playful glimmer in his eye. A glimmer you were used to except it’s aged slightly. His once smooth skin now bears a few delicate lines at the corner of either eyes, a telling tale to the amount of time passed. A slight touch of maturity and wisdom, making him even more attractive.

"I don't know your current situation, but if you're down, I'm down," he says, with anticipation, silently hoping for you to still be single.

You extend your hand in front of Jax, showing no sign of a ring. Indicating that you are currently unattached. His lips then curve into a subtle smirk and he nods in understanding.

“Well, your car might take an hour or two” he says, thoughtfully but casual. “You wanna go grab something to eat?” He locks onto your gaze, as he asks you. The suggestion hangs in the air waiting to become more so.

“What now? Like… right now?” You splutter out.

Jax finds amusement in your mild awkwardness, and he playfully mimics your earlier words, teasing, "Not you still trying to get out of it." His smile growing wider.

Hastily you respond, not wanting to give the wrong impression. “No! I’m not… I want to it’s just…” Your eyes wander down your casual attire “I’m not exactly dressed for a date” you laugh slightly embarrassed.

Jax takes a moment to consider, wanting to make you feel as comfortable as possible. "Alright," he says thoughtfully, his tone genuine. "Let's call it a pre-date, a date before a real date. For now, just two old friends grabbing a bite to eat. No pressure."

You nod in agreement, a soft smile breaking across your face. "Okay," you respond, accepting the terms of the 'pre-date.'

“Okay” he smiles, repeating his words, as if he can’t actually believe you’ve finally agreed. “Wait here a second? I’ve just got to let my VP know I’ll be gone for a few hours” Jax says, his presidency shining through again.

“VP?” You question.

“Vice president” he laughed, finding your lack of biker knowledge cute. “Second in command” he winks before walking out the office door.

“Right” you say, laughing to yourself, stealing a quick glance in the office mirror making sure you look atleast somewhat presentable.

Outside, Jax bumps into Chuckie. “How longs that tyre gonna take chuck?” He questions lifting his head towards the car.

“Guys said about 30 minutes” Chuckie says, rushing over to Jax’s side.

Jax looks around making sure he’s unable to be heard. “Tell them to make it an hour…maybe two”

Chuckie is clearly confused, but knows better than to question jax.

“j'accepte ça” he mutters quietly under his breath.

[At Franks Restaurant]

Deep in conversation, you both walk towards the doors of Franks restaurant. Jax quickens his pace, he does a swift jog to reach the doors before you. “After you, my lady” a glint of mischief in his eyes as he mimics a more sophisticated tone.

As you both enter, you notice the curious glances from the other customers. All taking in the proud statement of affiliation to the Sons of Anarchy club that Jax wears loudly on display. Some looking with admiration whilst others avoid eye contact all together.

You observe Jax exchanging friendly greetings with the waitress, a sign that this establishment is a familiar one.

As you settle into your seats opposite each other, you can’t help but notice how intensely Jax is studying you. Feeling slightly self conscious you question him, wondering why he’s being so precise.

“What is it?” You laugh lightly, trying to brush away the self doubt.

“Just thinking” he says, nonchalantly.

“Thinking about…” you drag your words out as you circle two fingers around eachother encouraging him to finish his sentence.

“Why it took you so long to finally give me a chance” his answer filled with curiousity and longing.

You take a moment before you finally answer, conflicting thoughts rushing through your mind. When you think back now you wonder to yourself ‘why was I so scared to give him a chance?’ It boils down to the rumours you had heard about Jax - his family, the motorcycle club, which at the time he wasn’t even a part of - but now that you had grown and lived life yourself, you realised just how insignificant those things really were. You realise that maybe, just maybe if you had agreed to even one of those dates back then, you could have had the relationship you always desired.

You sigh softly, the memories of being young and easily influenced. “I was young, Jax…the stories and things I’d hear about your world I just… I don’t know it was all new to me”

Jax smiles at your honest response, his expression showing understanding rather than offence. The waitress brings over your food orders, and you find yourselves engaged in heartfelt conversation. You talk about the highs and lows of your lives, laughing about past relationships that never worked out, remembering your high school days and learning more about eachother’s lives.

When you’re both finished eating, Jax’s eyes linger on a small bit of food beneath your lip. His voice takes on a tone of gentle authority. “Come here” he says, as he reaches out with his thumb to gently wipe it away. His touch delicate - a contrast to the aura he gives off. The warmth of his touch sends a soft shiver down your spine leaving you wanting to feel his touch again.

As you attempt to conceal the pleasurable shiver that courses through your body, you try your best to maintain composure, but Jax as observant as he is takes note of your reaction.

"Why thank you" you respond, your voice laced with a subtle undertone of growing desire and longing.

The waitress glides over to your table with a charming smile, placing a fresh piece of cherry pie in front of you and Jax. The dessert, a complimentary treat, arrives accompanied by a single fork. She gracefully clears away the empty plates, leaving you and Jax facing the l slice of cherry pie and one lonely fork.

Jax smoothly slides the plate towards him and claims the fork, carefully selecting a piece of the pie. He does something unexpected. He leans towards you with the fork balancing a piece of pie in one and, and his other hovering just below to catch any rogue crumbs. He brings the piece of pie to your lips, maintaining strict eye contact and creating an intimate moment between the both of you as he feeds you a bite of the pie.

Jax locks eyes with you, the intensity of your stare causing him to react immediately. His slight shift in his seat betrays the growing struggle that he’s trying to hide. The air is suddenly thick with unspoken tension.

With a seductive gaze, you mirror the gesture from earlier. Taking the fork from Jax’s hand you also select a piece of pie. Balancing the fork in the air waiting for his approval. He glances around discreetly to ensure there are no prying eyes. “Can’t let people think I’m soft now” he laughs slightly, knowing in this moment he definitely is not ‘soft’ - before giving you the green light to proceed. Your heart beats with anticipation as you carefully feed him the next piece of pie.

As Jax munches on the pie, a small nod of approval follows. “That’s some good pie” clearly satisfied with his dessert.

You exchange a look across the table, a silent communication between you both that needs no words. The look between your eyes speaks volumes. It’s as if the entire world fades away in that moment, leaving only the two of you aware of something special currently unfolding.

You clear your throat a little, trying to downplay your eagerness. Glancing at the time on your phone, with a hint of reluctance you ask “So… do you think my car will be done now?” trying to shift the conversation back to reality.

Jax confidently nods his head in agreement, already having the knowledge that your tyre would have been sorted out long ago but he wanted the opportunity to spend a good amount of time with you. “Yeah, I’d say so” he replies, his eye contact still strong, as if he’s taking in all of you before he has to say goodbye.

As you both reach the cash register, you move to grab your purse from your bag. Jax takes note of your intention, his laugh soft but affectionate. He steps forward positioning himself between you and the register. “I got this, y/n it’s on me” he asserts. His gesture is both romantic and thoughtful.

Jax confidently strides out of the restaurant, as you follow with a playful remark escaping your lips. “Well aren’t you a gentleman” you tease, as you both walk back towards his bike.

He smirks in response, his words spoken with a hint of challenge. "Well, you would have found that out years ago if you weren't so scared of me," he jokes waiting for your response.

“I was not scared of you!” You say, attempting to push him playfully. Instead he counters by grabbing you mid-push lifting you off the ground before setting you back down again. Laughter spills from your lips as you feel the butterflies ignite in your stomach. “I wasn’t scared of you” you say again, making sure Jax understands.

“I’m messin’ darlin” he says, as he takes a seat on his bike. Once again, taking in all of you.

You lean against the wall, a heartfelt “Thank you” slipping from your lips. Jax can tell that you’re being sincere and you definitely were. You really did appreciate the thoughtfulness of Jax taking you out on this ‘pre-date’ and you also both acknowledged the deeper connection that has sparked between you both.

You make eye contact with him once more, a twinkle in your eye which teases him slightly. “You know Teller… I never knew you could be so…romantic”. It’s a playful acknowledgment of the unexpected side of Jax, that you have only just discovered these past hours together. A side that shows more depth, more emotions than you thought possible. A side that made you think, the tempting road ahead, was worth taking.

Jax takes in your compliment. He is very aware that he doesn’t radiate the conventional romantic aura, but hearing that from you, especially given your past rejections adds a special significance.

Jax, feeling the weight of your words and the sincerity behind them, is somewhat unsure of how to respond. He runs his fingers through his hair before putting on his helmet, giving him a moment to gather his thoughts and compose himself before responding. It’s clear that your comment has touched a deeper part of him, a part that hasn’t been touched before.

“I’m all about the fairytale, baby” he smirks, as he starts his bike up, waiting for you to join him.

🦇,

Thank you so fucking much for this request! Honestly! I know it took forever but I was getting so carried away & trying to find a good place to end haha! I promise you that whatever you’ve imagined, I have too! So send in those requests I am down for writing about whatever! [I’m also rewatching again I’ve just started season 6 and I’m already crying about reaching season 7] but yes thank you thank you thank you. I hope you love it!

💀gifs, photos & music do not belong to me.

XOXO secretly samcro

[silverflameataraxia]

[wetpussyju1ce]

jax teller x fem!reader

how to get jax teller wrapped around your finger 101: easy, really. the nicest girl in town did it. she always smells the same, clean, fresh and sweet. coconuts and tangerines. she always says hello when they meet. always w a pretty smile. she also says hello to his gang. is nice to odd and peculiar personalities. takes everything with a welcoming smile and gaze. she cares abt people. like to ask things. do small things. not too much, because she doesn't have all the time in the world, after all.

she likes to keep sweet treats and snacks in her bag, just for jax. the sweeter, the better. so when he gets an itch to smoke, she just hands him one. and she did so many times, everytime he wants to smoke, he looks around, expecting her to be there and hand him one. a small chocolate bar. a tiny cupcake. a single packaged brownie. and his stomach rumbles. feels the lack of sweetness of his tongue. starts seeing the treats she gives him at the gas station and instantly thinks of her.

when they exchanged numbers. she made a habit of calling him on the same day, at the same time every week, just to say hello and check up on him. and he unconsciously grows to anticipate her calls. gets excited. and when she forgets to call, he gets confused and shows up at her house. he feels like a teenager all over again. laying in his bed, staring at his phone, just for her name to flash on his screen.

the longer they keep meeting and seeing each other. the shorter her skirts and shorts gets. Jax doesn't notice at first. how she started with jeans. complaining that the seats of the bar were always sticky and she hated the texture against bare skin. then her skirts started getting shorter and shorter, and jax at first tried wiping the seats for her, then realised those chairs are a lost caused, so much layers of unknown liquids on them. so he just offers his lap now. she says he's comfy and she smells real nice on him, so it's a win.

and when the smell of the bar gets too much, tobacco and weed and other illegal plants wafting through the air, mixed with sweat, beer and the stench of piss around the radius of the toilets, he just shoves his nose in her hair, inhales long and deep, his own little paradise, right there, on his lap. and it has gotten to a point where if she isn't there on one of those nights, to occupy his lap, he quickly gets a headache of the smell and stuffiness and goes out to take a break, outside, in fresh air. he gets irritated. annoyed. and complains about how people need to start using deodorants.

and the small changes in his behaviour are caught on. the smell never bothered him before she came in his life. but he doesn't want to hear it. doesn't care. especially when he can go to her house. where it's quiet. and gets tucked in her fluffy soft comfy bed, after taking a shower and using her own shampoos. and he gets a kiss on his forehead and cheeks. chokes hugs the life out of her squishmallows and closes his eyes, resting his bruised up body under covers of safety, tangerines & coconuts.

[chloe-skywalker]

I Know Them Better - Jax Teller

Jax x Fem!Reader

David Hale x Sister!Reader

Warnings: SOA

Word count: 1,942

Summary: Being Hale’s sister and dating Jax is complicated to say the least. Especially when hale doesn’t know about it

Authors Note: First Jax Teller story! So excited for this. There will be more!!!!

Masterlist

Sons Of Anarchy Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The sun was breaking through the curtains which in return woke Y/n and Jax up slowly.

“Good mornin Darlin.” Jax smirked as he opened his eyes to see Y/n laying there next to him.

“Back atcha handsome.” Y/n smirked back not even opening her eyes, enjoying being in bed with her man. Since they were currently at Y/n’s house they didn’t have to worry about being interpreted or so they thought.

Right when they both were gonna try to go back to sleep there was a loud pounding on Y/n’s front door. Which made both of their eyes open quickly and widely.

“Are you expecting someone?” Jax asked her.

“Not that I know of. Stay here.” Y/n got up and threw on a shirt and a pair of shorts before glancing back at him and she noticed his nervous and apprehensive look. “I’ll yell for you if I need you, my knight with shining motorcycle.” she teased him.

Y/n walked down the hall and headed over to her front door only to see her brother on the other side causing the racket.

“David.” Y/n said his name in shock, why was her brother at her home she thought as she opened the door and greeted him.

“Y/n.” he greeted back as he entered her home.

“So what’s up brother?” Y/n said loud enough for Jax to hear so he knew who it was and to not come out of her room.

“I need you to be careful around town.” David told her as they stood in Y/n’s kitchen.

“Why? What's up?” Y/n furrowed her brows.

“Samcro’s up to something. And I have a bad feeling about it.” Hale told her annoyed at Charmings local Biker group.

“Why do you hate them?” Y/n questioned her brother trying not to sound upset with him for judgment of the Son’s. But it was hard not to, he judged them and doesn’t even know them.

“They’re criminals Y/n.” He told her simply.

“They may not be completely innocent but they also protect the town David. You have to see that.” Y/n tried with David often but it was hard when she had to not let on to her and Jax’s relationship. 

Y/n could see from her spot standing in the kitchen down the hall and saw Jax listening in to their conversation. He just smirked at her.

“Their good deeds don’t outweigh their bad ones.” Hale stated to her before sighing. “Just be careful okay? I don’t want you to get hurt because of them.”

“Okay. I’ll be careful.” y/n nodded along to appease him. But She wasn’t going to stay away from Jax or the club. But he didn’t need to know that.

“Thank you.” David smiled at her gratefully. He sometimes hated that she was still living in Charming, it made it harder to protect her. “Oh I won’t be able to have our normal weekly dinner tonight. I have to work late.”

“Okay, that's fine.” Y/n smiled at him.

“Bye Y/n/n.” Hale hugged her before heading for the door to leave.

“Bye Bro.” Y/n watched him leave before hearing the front door shut.

“Man, he really doesn’t like us huh?” Jax spoke from the entrance to the hallway.

“Not funny.” Y/n rolled her head to look at him. It was hard for Y/n that she essentially had 2 different lives. Y/n was close to her brother and they normally talked about everything but she couldn’t share with him anything about her relationship because he wouldn’t approved.

“Well, since you're not gonna be busy tonight. Why don’t you come to TM. We’re not having a party but we are all gonna be hanging out at the clubhouse. That way you don't have to be alone and get more time together.” Jax suggested walking over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Jax knew Y/n hated being alone and he’d take any time they could spend together.

“Okay. I don’t like being alone and I miss all the guy’s.” She nodded in agreement looking up at him.

“What about me?” Jax raised a brow teasing her.

“Of course you.” She shook her head with a laugh at his antics, as she headed into the kitchen with Jax on her tail. Y/n grabbed a drink from her fridge as Jax watched her for a moment biting his lip before pushing off of the kitchen wall and leaving the room. Y/n called out at his retreating form. “Where are you going?”

“To pack you a bag.” He called back from down the hall, turning into her bedroom.

“Jax?” Y/n pushed off the counter top to follow him into her room.

“We’re staying the night at the clubhouse.” Jax states.

Y/n raised a brow, she knew all he’d try to pack. She rolled her eyes at his packing taste. “If all your gonna pack is lingerie-”

“I’ll pack other things.” He smiled mischievously.

“Like what?” Y/n asked him with a tilted head, curious to his other thoughts on what to pack.

“Extra of my clothes and you can wear those.” Jax smiled cheekily.

“Hmmm.” Y/n hummed, nodding amused at his answer.

^     ^     ^

@ TM  Next Morning

“Aye Lass, Morning.” Chib’s greeted with a nod and a smile upon seeing Y/n exit the dorm hallway.

“Morning.” Y/n greeted the Scottish man with a smile on her lips.

“Hey Darlin, you look good.” Jax looked her up and down as she walked over and he handed her a glass of orange juice.

“Hmmhmm, I’m in your clothes after all.” Y/n hummed smiling up at him knowing exactly what he was getting at.

“You should just wear my stuff from now on.” He smirked with a shrug.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you.” Y/n laughed, and then her phone started ringing.

“Hey, Whats up?” Y/n said answering her phone upon seeing her brothers name flashing on the screen.

“I need you to come down to the station.” David stated cutting to the chase.

“Why?” Y/n asked confused as to why he’d want her down to the police station?

“Just to talk about something. See you soon.” He wouldn’t say over the phone.

“Bye.” Y/n barley got it out before the line went dead.

“I have to go.” Y/n said looking up at Jax with a tight lipped, slightly sad smile. She didn’t want to leave.

“Nooooo. Why?” Jax whined wrapping his arms tighter around her waist as he sat behind her on a stool.

“Sorry, brother calls.” She sighed getting out of his hold and standing up.

“You gonna be okay, lass?” Chibs asked, they all considered Y/n family. She’d been around since her and Jax were in highschool.

“Yeah. Y/n/n. We could come with.” Tig offered fully prepared to back up the Y/h/c-ed girl.

“Nah, I’ll be okay. Brother just probably wants to rant about you guys anyway.” Y/n waved them off.

“You comin back?” Jax asked as he hands her her keys.

“Yeah, I’ll be back. Love you.” She smiled and leans over to kiss his cheek.

“Love you, too.” Jax squeezed her waist before watching her go.

^     ^     ^

“Hey. Why’d you need me down here?” Y/n walked into her brother's office shutting the door behind her before she went to sit down across from him.

“The Son’s are planning something. It’s gotta be big because they’ve been having meetings with every rival gang around. Its gonna be big and its gonna get people hurt. If not killed.” David explained to his sister stressing the possible implications of what he believes is to come.

“Maybe they're making deals to protect the town.” Y/n shrugged. She of course knew what was going on, Jax told her things even she shouldn’t know. But she couldn’t tell her brother that.

He shook his head in denial. “They aren’t. I know them. This is going to have a ton of casualties. Their gonna-”

“Stop! Just stop.” Y/n cut him off having had it with his obsession of making them the bad guys. “I know them better than you do. I know exactly what they do and what they were doing. Because unlike you I actually know them, and no I won’t share what is going on with you. Sorry.”

Hale furrowed his brows. “How do you know so much about Samcro?”

“In fact, whose clothes are you wearing?” He spoke up again. David noticed finally that she was wearing a men's shirt way to big for her, what really got him though was that the shirt had a faded “Samcro” printed on the front.

“I’m wearing Jax’s shirt because He’s my boyfriend. Had been for almost a year.” Y/n let out a stressed breath and just came out with her secret relationship that was only a secret to her brother.

“For fuck’s sake!” David let out angrily shaking his head.

“Shut up and listen.” Y/n told him standing up, taking charge of what was going to be said. “They are good guys. They may be in some not so legal shit, but they're good guys. Either give them a chance or back off some. You're stressing yourself out to unhealthy levels when it comes to Samcro.”

Y/n worried sometimes at how stressed the thought of the Son’s made her brother it was so unhealthy for him.

Y/n got up and stormed out of his office and the station. Right now she only wanted to be around the Son’s. Mainly Jax. Her Jax.

Once she got back to TM  Chib’s was the first to notice.

“Jackie boy. Someone's back and she looks stressed.” Chibs called out as he watched Y/n pull in on the faster side and all it took was one look at her body language to know something happened.

“Don’t think that talk went so good.” Juice commented as they all watched Y/n, the girl normally so calm and mostly relaxed acting very agitated and stressed.

“Y/n/n, what's wrong? What happened?” Jax asked as he approached her halfway seeing how stressed she was Jax pulled her into him for a few moment’s knowing his embrace comforted her.

“He knows about the club’s meetings with the rival MC’s, and he knows about us.” Y/n told Jax stepping out of his hold looking up at him. Jax looked shocked when she mentioned their relationship being outed to her brother. Y/n sighed before telling him. “I couldn’t take it anymore. He noticed my shirt as well. I had to tell him. . . I also told him to back off the club. You're all good guys and he’s stressing over it in unhealthy ways.”

Jax cupped the side of her face, he knew how worried she was about her brother finding out about their relationship. With how much he hate’s Jax and the Son's, how could she not worry. “I know you're worried that you’ll lose him because of our relationship. I’m sorry Darlin.”

Y/n gave him a half smile. “On the bright side we don’t have to hide and sneak around anymore.”

“Come on, Darlin. We missed you.” Jax mirrored her half smile. That was a perk of David now knowing, but Jaxx just wanted to cheer her up at the moment.

Jax wrapped his arms around her shoulders and guided her over to where the others were. They were her family to and they’d support her no matter what.

Taglist:

@padawancat97 @gruffle1 (sorry I didn't have my list on me and I didn't know if you wanted to be tagged in SOA stuff)

[voxmortuus]

Hi baby. Saw the prompt list. 😎 May I have #5 ☆ { calling } them late at night to come over for Jax Teller, please?

Thank you. ♥

⇘ PAIRING:⇙ Jax Teller x F!Reader ⇘ UNIVERSE:⇙ Sons of Anarchy ⇘ WORD COUNT:⇙ 1.1k ⇘ TRIGGER WARNINGS:⇙ Fluff | Smut | Jax and his filthy mouth (language) | Foreplay | P-i-V | Pull-out Method | More fluff | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ⇘ NOTES:⇙ Sorry if this is total ass... but I hope this brings you some joy. ⇘ DIVIDER CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa ⇘ IMAGE CREDIT:⇙ This was found through Google and is not my GIF, if this is your GIF or know whose it is, please inbox me, so I can credit the creator. Thank you! ⇘ My Master Masterlist ⇙

It was just one of those nights, there's only so much scrolling you can do before things become repetitive, and boring in your feeds. Flipping between Tumblr, Reddit, and Facebook, things were becoming boring, and nothing was helping you fall asleep. Tapping the side of your phone, you flip through old photos, smiling now and again looking over Jax's face. Sitting up in bed, you check the time, 12:24 a.m. Sighing, you decide to give it a shot, chances are Jax was up anyway, so why not.

Scrolling down and finding his name, you hit the call button, and wait. Ringing you groan, maybe he was --

"Hey, Darlin'. You alright? What's up?" he asks, you can tell there's a smile on his face.

"Hey, Baby. I know it's kinda late, but would you mind coming over... I can't sleep... and I could use the company." you bite your lip a bit.

"Yeah, sure, I'll be over in 15." he stated.

After the brief conversation and a quick I love you and a hangup, you go unlock your door, knowing he'll lock it when he gets here.

Hearing the motorcycle approach, and the engine turn off, you feel this bubble of excitement pulse through you. It was a matter of time before you heard your front door open, close, lock, and the sound of boots headed your way.

Peeking his head in, he looks over you, and you smile, moving over you pat the empty space in your bed and gesture for him to join you. Taking the hint, he makes his way over, slipping off his vest and coat, tossing his hat on the table, and kicking off his boots and socks, he slips into bed.

"Your pants... your shirt... are in the way." you smirk.

He chuckles and standing back up he takes them off, dropping them to the floor before climbing back in under the covers. You scoot yourself closer, and he wraps his arm around you, pulling you close.

"Can't sleep?" he asked you.

Nodding, your fingers move over his chest as you look up at him and smile. "Thank you for coming over."

"It's nothin' Darlin'. I've always told you I'm a call away." he kisses the top of your head.

A soft smile graces your lips as you scoot a little closer to him and let out a small satisfied smile. But you seem you can't keep your hands from wandering on him. Slipping under the blanket, you keep your gaze on him as you move over his boxers. Smiling, you bite at your lip and kiss him sweetly.

A slight chuckle escapes his lips as he pulls you closer to him, his hand roaming your figure as he moves you to lay on top of him, holding you close, his hips move upward a bit, kissing you deeply, and he slips the shirt from your body and tosses it to the floor along with his clothes.

Pressing yourself against him, your hands move up along his sides and find your way to get tangled in that love head of golden locks. The kissing gets a little heavier between you two, the touching, how you press your hips against him, feeling him harden against you. You move your hand between your legs as you grip him through his boxers. He groans against your lips as he grips your breast, pulling you closer, and kissing you deeper.

The kissing, the touching, the grunts, and the groans were enough to send you into a feral mind. Moving his boxers down, you slip him right between your lips, your hips press yourself down, pressing him deeper inside you. You both end up groaning in unison.

His grip on your hips is tight, his fingers pressing hard against your flesh, indenting as he thrusts upward just enough to finish that last little bit you wanted to slip inside you. The streetlights are the only thing illuminating the room, your shadow cast on the walls. Looking over, he watches your shadow as you brace yourself against his chest and begin to move up and down on his cock.

Holding your thighs in his hands, he watches the way you move against him, your hands pressing into his chest as he moves his own up your body, feeling your flesh under his hands was a sort of high for him. He presses a hand against your chest, between your breasts, as he slowly guides your motions as he thrusts upward.

As you are being guided with a hand on your chest, one on your hip, and his cock between your legs, your head falls back as you let out a loud, long, drawn-out moan. Your body trembles as you pick up on the sounds, the smells, the way the air tastes. Listening to him grunt and your own moans fill the air. It's all palpable. Erotic. Addicting.

The way you both work against and with each other, it sends these shockwaves through both of you, a genuine quickie, you feel yourself building, but of course, it doesn't help with his own buildup, you can tell in his tone, in how frequent his groans become, in how his breath smells. Leaning forward, you moan against his lips. And that's when he tells you to finish with him. He lifts you up, and you grip his cock as he works your bud.

Before you know it, your whole body trembles, feeling those hot ribbons of white pour against you. Whimpering and trembling against him, you begin to pant. Achieving your desired goal, he leans against the pillow but grabs something to clean you up.

There was hardly anything spoken between you two. But you lay there, holding him close, you look up at him as he stares down at you.

"You feel good." you chuckle.

"What even was that?" he chuckles.

"I think it's called a quickie. You should be used to those." you poke.

"Ohh, is that what that was? I like those... but next time... we do a longie... not a quickie," he smirks.

"I'll play with your longie." you chuckle.

"No, Darlin', we call it a cock, longie.... please no." he chuckles. "Besides, I like the way the word cock escapes your lips." he smirked.

"You like your cock between my lips Jax..." you joust.

Gasping he chuckles. "That is true... gotta say, you're a good cocksucker." he winks.

The night continued into the morning, and eventually, you had both fallen asleep. His arms wrapped around you, his face in your hair, and you clung to him like your entire life depended on it. You were glad you called him over, much needed, and the sleep was much better with him there.

[pileofboneswrites]

TAILSPIN_oneshot.sonsofanarchy

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

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

WORD COUNT — 3.8k

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

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

MASTERLIST

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"alright, now, tell me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"well, i wouldn't say that—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[dilfcontent]

CHARLIE HUNNAM naked scene in Sons of Anarchy (S02E09).

[synintheraven]

Have some bloody Jax... for academic purposes (;

[imaginesmai]

You stared at yourself through the long-standing mirror that had a crack on the left side. The dress was long, but simple, and had a lacey design of sunflowers that matched the bouquet Gemma had chosen for you. The long sleeves made with lace looked elegant and soft, covering your whole arm and finishing right at your wrists. There was no long train, no veil or crown, nothing but the dress that made you feel like a princess.

It didn’t belong to Jax’s room, where last night events were still present. The empty bottles, the cigarettes on the ground, the crumpled sheets on the corner of the bed.

A pair of your panties on the chair.

Last night was wild, but you were much more at ease that right then. In front of the mirror, in your weeding dress, you felt like throwing up.

“You look beautiful” Gemma said from the door. “Are you ready?”

“I look like a flower vase. And I guess I am”

You didn’t look at her as she came closer. She was wearing a black, tight dress that left little to imagination, but that made her look like the queen. Standing in front of his mirror, in his room, the doubts appeared for the first time. Because, what if you were rushing things? What if you were invading his family?

It hadn’t been a rushed decision, months of planning and years of dating, but with Jax it was never easy. You had known each other since you were children, playing in the street with Opie and Thomas. As Piney’s daughter, you had grown in the club, between bikes and guns. And through the years, you had found your home in Jax’s arms, and he had made its way into your heart.

Gemma turned you around until you were looking at her, and she gave you a soft smile. The first tear decided to roll down your cheek, threatening to ruin your make-up. You tried not to think about the past, about your father being killed by Clay or your brother dying in a rotten cell from a cruel beating.

Last year had been heavy on you, on the club. You had delayed the weeding until everything was solved, and you thanked Jax for being so patient. But now, minutes away, you didn’t know if you were ready.

“What’s the matter, baby?” she caught the tear before it could do any damage.

“I don’t know” you said, feeling your chest becoming tight and heavy. “I don’t know”

“It’s okay to feel nervous. You’re about to take a huge step”

“I just – I know the club if my family, Gem, but… I wished they’d be here” you tried to stop the next tear. “They aren’t”

“Oh, Y/N. Come here”

You let yourself fall against her shoulder, careful not to ruin the dress.

There were things that you were certain about, like loving Jax, wanting a life together and doing anything for Abel. But you weren’t sure about many others. The constant beef with other clubs and organizations, your role in Abel’s life, the responsibilities of becoming the wife of the club’s president. Just last night, naked and drunk, Jax and you had dreamt about your shared life from now on, and you would have thought you were invincible.

But you had learnt that good things didn’t match your lifestyle, that you weren’t that lucky.

You didn’t know how much time you spent between Gemma’s arms, just hugging her tightly and waiting for your fears to go away. It was stupid, because you had gone through horrible things together, but somehow marrying felt like the last straw.

Once you were sure you weren’t going to break down, you took a deep breath and broke away.

“You sure you’re ready?” she asked, gripping your forearm.

“Yeah. Just – yeah”

Both of you had decided that you wanted a simple weeding, just the club and a few friends, so the club had been the chosen place. A friend of the club would officiate the wedding, and then, you had rented a catering service for the day. It was simple, and easy, but you couldn’t convince your heart to play along.

You walked down the familiar hallways, now empty, holding onto Gemma’s arm. In silence, you begged yourself to enjoy the day and forget about the past.

When you saw him waiting for you, with white shirt and denim trousers, you felt those worries slipping away.

Jax had been worried that you would change your mind, that something had happened, so he had sent his mother looking for you. After last night, he had left you to get changed and get everything ready with the boys, who didn’t help calm his nerves. What did help was finally seeing you walking towards him, as pretty as a dream.

He had chosen the only shirt he owned, had ironed his trousers and cleaned his sneakers, and he felt like the tramp as you were his lady. No matter how well he cleaned himself or how much effort he put into the details – he would never catch up with you.

Abel, who was holding the wedding rings next to his father, moved around with a nervous laugh.

“She looks beautiful, right?” Jax told him, not tearing his eyes away from you.

After what felt like forever, you finally made it to his side. Gemma took away the bouquet and you leaned for a kick kiss from Abel, who laughed once more before leaving. Everyone got up as the priest started talking, but you only had eyes for each other.

For Jax, it was hard to believe he was actually there, that he deserved it. That you had said yes and were about to become his wife. You stared at his blue eyes as he told you about it without a word, just with his side smile and the utter devotion he looked at you with.

“Not too late to change your mind” he half-joked, holding your hand.

“Same thing” you whispered back, squeezing it. “You sure about this?”

You were sure, and Jax too, but in your line of life, it was hard to believe when things turned out to be good. He had been your anchor through the years, and having a ring on your finger wouldn’t change it or make it better. It was only another step you were willing to take with him, one of many you had yet to take.

The way Jax stared at you while the priest continued with the ceremony cleared any doubt you had about it.

“I love you, darling” he answered after a moment. “I’m not going anywhere”

[daisydamed]

Drink Up

a tiny Jax Teller imagine that I couldn't get out of my head.

(forgive the bad writing honestly idk what's happened to me)

word count - 625

---

She and Jax had sought each other out at the past few clubhouse parties. Music playing and smoke hanging in the air, one would spot the other and force their paths to cross; spending the remainder of the night exchanging stolen touches and lingering gazes over whatever drinks they held. This night was no different, with her eyes scanning quickly over the room of bodies, casually searching him out, even if she didn’t mean to. 

Several drinks in and she was caught in conversation with Juice, nodding along and laughing when she should, adding her own bits and pieces despite her thinly veiled distraction. He knew, of course. Saw how the pair looked at each other, stole each other away once they were reacquainted. His eyes had flickered behind her for only a second, not giving her the chance to turn and look before something cold was pressed briefly to the warm skin of her neck. She jerked away with a small yelp, wiping at the condensation left behind from the beer bottle. 

“Jackson Teller-” She whirled on him, hearing the chuckle from his lips before she’d barely registered the chill. 

He grinned, head cocked to meet her eyes. “Say my name like that again and I'll have to kick your ass.” He told her, a teasing lilt to his tone. She rolled her eyes, her voice dry.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll bear that in mind.” She replied easily, hands raised in almost mischievous surrender. Neither even noticed that Juice had vanished, slipping away into the crowd once he realised he’d lost her focus. 

“Now there’s your manners.” He quipped, stepping a little closer to let someone pass behind him. 

“I said a very nice thank you the other week.” She reminded him, trying unsuccessfully to bite back her smile. 

“I remember,” Jax thought back, recalling the ride home he’d given her the morning after the last gathering when she’d crashed on a couch instead of paying for a cab ride home. “Though I gotta admit I’m wanting to hear more nice words from you now.” 

“I guess you’ll have to earn them.” She shot back casually, watching as he finished off his beer, leaning away momentarily to place the empty bottle on the bar. He smirked at her words, shaking his head minutely. 

“Oh, is that how it is?” He asked, retaking his place with mere inches between them. The loud voices of the many bodies coupled with the music playing over the speaker made it difficult to hear. His excuse for their proximity. “And how would I go about doing that, exactly?” 

She gave a shrug, taking a sip of the drink in her hand. “I haven’t decided yet.” 

His eyes followed the motion, watching as the glass met her lips. He reached out as it lowered, taking it from her fingers deftly. “Take your time,” He told her, raising the glass to take a sip of his own. “We’ve got all night for you to decide.” 

“Thievery might not be the best way to start.” She mused, reaching for the glass. He twisted where he stood, holding it just out of reach, enjoyment in his eyes. 

The glass hung between his fingers, his eyes fixed on hers. “I never said I played fair.” He told her casually. She narrowed her eyes, gaze flitting between the glass and his face. “You want it back?”

She held his gaze. “You can keep hold of it,” she told him. “But I’d like some.” 

“All you had to do was ask.” Jax replied, voice smooth. He stepped in, his hand coming to rest on her lower back, holding her steady. She lifted her chin, lips parting as he raised the glass and tilted it gently. 

[thisreadswhatever]

Anything For The Club: Part Six

Will you betray Jax to protect The Club?

series masterlist

[description]: jax teller x female reader, reader x oc characters

[wordcount]: 3.2k+

[series cw]: 18+, female reader, swearing, sexual harassment/assault (non-canon characters), alcohol use, mix of fluff, smut and angst throughout, p in v sex, teasing, violence, gun use, mentions of blood, murder, blackmail

[authors note]: and that’s the end! hope you enjoyed this as much as i did writing it :)

“Assume you’re used to riding shotgun”, The President asked as he handed you a black helmet. 

You put it on and straddled yourself along the back of his bike. “Not usually in heels.” 

Realisation of the betrayal you were committing was crushing you. Here you were, sat on another man’s bike, about to ride off into nowhere so he could do god knows what to you. The guilt weighed on your chest as you gripped The President's waist from behind. You reminded yourself the reason you were doing this, Protect The Club. Protect Jax. 

“First time for everything, sweetheart.”

He kicked the bike alive, it roaring fiercely as he rode out of the parking lot. 

The journey was short. He pulled into a motel lot two blocks up the road. It was a quiet and dingy motel, known for its drug hookups and escorts. The exact kind of place you used to work before you had agreed with Jax to run Diosa. Jax didn’t like sharing, you were his and that was vital to him. You’d agreed that you’d both be entirely faithful to one another there on out, and you knew after this, he’d never forgive you. 

“Classy.” You muttered as you pulled the helmet off your head. 

“Ain’t gonna matter where you are once I’m inside you, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

He placed the bike on its kickstand, and you followed as he made his way across the car park, up a flight of stairs and to room numbered 208. The curtains were already closed on the outside. He grabbed a yellow key card out from his back pocket, unlocking the door. 

You stalked your way inside the room, hearing the bolt echo behind you as he secured the latch on the door. 

The room was a simple, one large crimson bed centered between wooden side tables, home to two outdated lamps and a dusty bible. The President wandered straight to the mattress, sitting along the edge. He placed the manilla envelope on the side table closest to him before he pulled his cutte off. He slapped the mattress, coaxing you to sit beside him. Across from the front door was a bathroom that you immediately streamlined for. “I’m just gonna freshen up.” 

He laid back falling flat across the bed, “don’t leave me waitin’.” 

You closed the door behind you, sighing of relief for the brief moment alone. You looked at yourself in the mirror above the sink. It was cracked slightly along the edge, distorting the image in front of you. You turned the tap, letting the water run. The sound of the streaming fossett was soothing, and you closed your eyes with your hands clutching the sink, trying to overcome the sickness you felt burning through your stomach. You wanted to vomit. You took your jacket off, thrusting it to the floor, trying to breathe as you struggled for air. You’d never had a panic attack before but you imagined this is what it felt like. 

He’s got you right where he wanted, you told yourself. Alone in a motel and not a soul knows you’re here. You searched your jacket for your phone, before remembering you left it in the car at the diner. Calling for help was out of the equation. Your chest was tight, the sound of your heart thudding engulfing your ears as you tried to gasp for air. 

You didn’t have a phone, but you did have the gun. You could go out there and shoot him, take the envelope and run for the hills. And potentially start a gang war by killing The President of another crew, one that’s associated with the Mexican cartels. Dumb idea. 

Your last option, just give him what he wants, get the photos, and be done. You’d already made it this far. The guy was hardly the worst looking man on the planet. He was monstrous and crass but it would be a sacrifice of a moment compared to the loss of everything Jax knew. 

You let the water run through your fingers before you turned it off. You pulled your hair to the side of your neck, the cold water on your hands dripping down your skin. You can do this, you tried to convince yourself. Protect The Club. Protect Jax. You were going to have to break his heart, to save his club.

You heard a knock on the door at the same time it abruptly opened, not giving you any chance to respond. 

“I said don’t keep me waitin’, little lady.” 

“Just had to pull myself together.”

He crept towards you, and you instinctively turned into him, your back pressing into the sink behind you. 

“I can help you out.” 

His hands found your hair, clutching at the root as he pulled your head back. Your hands were grasping the edges of the porcelain, as he brought himself against your body, pressing his lower half into you. You were unable to move. He held you there, watching your face, taking in the sight of you completely at his disposal. 

Tears welled in your eyes, unable to be forced back this time, and they began to stream from your face. You realised at this moment that you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t force yourself to want this man. He placed a hand on your cheek, wiping away the drops with his thumb. 

“You look so pretty when you cry.” 

He pressed his face into yours, kissing you viciously. His tongue tangled against your lips as it searched for entry, but failed as you kept your mouth forced shut. He pulled your head back again by your hair, staring into your eyes. His eyebrows raised as he watched you sobbing, furious from your apprehension.

“I’m not gonna fuck a corpse. You better give me something back.” 

His hand released from your hair as he brought them down to your waist, pulling you from the sink. You stumbled against him, trying to find your balance. You wanted more time, a chance to think or just pause this from happening, to try and find a way out. 

You forced yourself to find his lips, kissing him back. You entwined your fingers through his hair, hoping you could sell the facade that you wanted him too. A smile formed at the corner of his mouth while yours did all the work. 

He seemed to relax before you pulled away, “should we go to the bed?” 

“Fuck the bed. I want you here.” 

He dragged the hem of your dress to expose your underwear, pulling you tight to his body by your ass. You squirmed at the feel of his hands on you this way, but tried to play calm to control the situation. 

Your heel tangled into your jacket beneath you, and you could feel your gun was right under your feet. You kissed him again while he palmed at your backside, dragging his fingers under the fabric of your panties. You lowered your hands down his frame, leading them to his jeans, rubbing against his erection. You crouched down to your knees, your eyes never leaving his. 

He groaned aloud as he watched you undo his belt buckle, your face parallel with his dick. “I knew you wanted this, little slut.” 

You ignored his degradation, and carried on feeling him with your hands. His head fell backwards, and just as his eyes left yours, you began to press your mouth against his cock, gnawing at the hard membrane covered in denim. Your mouth continued to distract him, as you searched the floor with your free hand, desperate to find the gun in your jacket pocket. 

Just as your hand reached the metal piece, your fingers twisting along the handle, The President looked down at you. 

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” 

You pulled the piece from the jacket, aiming it up at his chest. “Back the fuck up. Now.”

He chuckled at your advance, looking at the gun point towards him as he slowly stepped backwards. 

“Maybe you ain’t so smart.”

He backed through the doorway as you stood, continuing to aim the gun. He reached the bed, sitting upright on the edge, his jeans draped around his thighs. He smirked at you, looking directly down the barrel. “We had a deal, little lady.” 

You gripped the gun tighter, “I’m not your fucking lady.” 

A chuckle escaped his teeth, “You really do need my dick in that dirty mouth of yours.” You paced towards the side table, holding your aim on him as you walked. You kept your focus on his face as you reached for the envelope. “You got any idea what you're starting?” 

You placed the envelope under your arm, grasping the gun with both hands again, edging yourself further from the bed, until you were backed against the far wall of the room. 

“Nothing I’m not prepared to finish.” 

He held his arms out wide, taunting you. “I got a long list of enemies who would do anything for the shot you got right now.”

“I don’t want to kill you, asshole.

I want to leave this room, and pretend I never met you. I want you to leave my Club the fuck alone. I want to go back to my life before you existed.”

He closed his arms, and stood up slowly, pulling up his jeans and clasping his belt buckle back together. “Then I guess you better kill me.”

You readjusted the gun in front of you, “sit back down!” 

He ignored you, continuing to pace forward, step by step. “I can see why he picked you as his old lady. Got looks and balls.” 

“I said I don’t want to kill you, asshole. Not that I won’t.” 

He grinned, reaching for you, extending his arms out. “Don’t be like that, baby.” 

He was inches from you again, his chest now pressed against the barrel. You pushed it into him further, “I fucking mean it. Back the fuck up!” 

He didn’t waiver. “Drop the gun, sweetheart.” 

You pulled the trigger. 

The sound of the gun jamming rang through your ears, and you stared at him wide eyed. He slammed the gun from your hand, the metal flinging across the room. He grabbed your wrists, pinning them to the wall behind you, the envelope under your arms falling to the ground, images of The Club spreading across the carpet beneath your feet. He pushed you with force against the wall, crushing your wrists in his grasp. 

He spoke low into your ear, “No more choices.”

You tried to retreat, but the weight from his body engulfed you, making it impossible for you to move. The stubble of his beard scraped against your skin as his mouth moved against your neck. You screamed for him to stop, but the pleas fell on deaf ears, seeming to entice him further. His body was entrapping you against the wall so harshly that his hands could move freely, creeping their way under your dress as he tore at the seams, ripping it open. You recalled how it felt to be trapped by this man that first night you met at Diosa, and you knew now that had the eyes of the entire lobby not been present, this would’ve been your fate then. You closed your eyes, giving up the fight. 

Suddenly he stopped, interrupted by a repeated banging on the door.

“Y/n?” 

“Jax! Jax! I’m in-”, his hand slapped against your mouth. You bit the skin as hard as you could, but he didn’t release. Instead he plowed your body into the ground, laying over you as you crumbled to the floor, crushing you into the gap between the wall and bed.

He stared into your eyes as he held your mouth shut, whispering to you through his clenched teeth.

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll kill you with my bare hands.” 

Tears streamed as your muffled screams paused. You clutched his hand against your mouth, trying to pry it from your face. You could only listen as Jax repeatedly thrust his entire weight against the wood of the door, the metal latch bulking under the pressure. The bolt gave in, and the door flew open. 

“Jesus-” Jax was armed and reeling as he looked around the room. Your jacket, the gun and the images strung out across the motel room. 

Your mouth was released from his grip as he pulled you by your hair. You winced at the pain, trying to find your footing as you stood up. He held you there like a prize, showing off your exposed and broken frame, tears pouring down your face. Jax’s core was stiff, glaring at The President with a look you hadn’t ever seen from him before. 

His jaw flexed as he put his gun back into his cutte, speaking slowly through his gritted teeth. 

“Get your hands off her.”

Your blackmailer smiled, his hands twisting further into your hair. “We were only just getting started.” His hands never left you, taunting Jax further. He looked at you up and down, licking his lips before turning back to Jax. “You got a good one here, Pres.”

“You got one more chance. Then I’m done talking.”

He pulled your hair back further, and you swayed as your balance was rocked.

“Oh, relax. Only wanted to try out the slut for myself.” 

That was it, Jax lunged for him. Any restriction of his fury was completely unleashed, as he stormed across the room, grabbing The President by the head, slamming it against the wall. You were finally released from his grasp, and threw yourself across the bed, rolling onto the other side of the room. 

You watched as they fought against the motel floor, Jax on top of him, repeatedly smashing his head into the carpet with all his strength. The bangs against the upstairs floor rocked the supports beneath it, thudding as Jax gasped from the repeated exertion. The President heaved his elbow into Jax’s stomach, and he fell backwards sitting upright, his back slamming against the side table. The table lamp crashed to the floor as Jax launched himself back into the President, crumbling him again. Jax was on top of the President, pounding his fists into his face repeatedly. He smiled at Jax, showing his bloody teeth as he took the beating. 

But he didn’t let up, he continued to crush into him, his elbow dropping against his flesh, further forcing his face further into the carpet. Jax’s fists rammed into his face, for what felt like eternity, as blood poured from The President’s nose and mouth. 

The President reached beneath him, grabbing a knife from the sheath that hung from his jeans. He sliced into Jax’s leg, and he screamed out in agony, making you flinch. Jax dropped his knee onto The President’s hand, crushing the knife out of his grasp. 

His leg was bleeding through his jeans, but he didn’t stop. You watched as he endlessly beat the President into nothing, pure rage fueling his hands forward. Blood sprayed from the open wounds of his face onto the wall beside the bed frame, covering the floor and Jax too. Only once The President stopped moving, the groans from his mouth silencing, did Jax stop. 

He was on top of him when he glanced at you, hiding in the corner of the room, your dress tore to shreds and tears streaming down your face. 

He crawled off of The President’s lifeless body, crouching towards you. He wrapped you in his arms, and the relief of feeling Jax holding you again turned your tears into sobs. 

“You okay?”

“I’m so- sorry-”

“Shhh. Darlin’ you got nothing to be sorry for.”

He cupped your face in his bloody hands, his rings glistening red from the liquid. His eyes matched yours, water pooling at the lids. 

“Did he hurt you?”

You shook your head. “A few minutes later and he-”, you couldn’t continue as the sobs poured from your chest. He didn’t need you to say anymore. He hugged you tight against him as he stroked your hair, soothing your wimpers into submission. You looked up at him as he wiped the tears from your face.

“I had no choice- he was going to rat- he had proof-”

“I know, darlin’. Nero told me everything.”

“He did? But how did you find me?”

“Your car was still at the diner but you weren’t there. I didn’t know what to think-” he flinched at the memory. “I just kept riding, then I saw the bike parked outside the motel. I was checking rooms and then I heard you scream-” You kissed him before he could continue. His hands stroked the back of your head, “I’m here now, darlin. It’s okay.” 

“He’s the President of another club.” You wanted to look at the carnage but you couldn’t bring yourself away from Jax’s face. 

He took a deep breath, looking up from you to the body laying in a pool of blood across the motel floor. His body tensed as anger filled him again, his tongue pressing against the bottom of his mouth as it straightened into a hard line. “He’s nothing now.” 

You sat up from Jax’s arms, watching him as he stared at The President, his eyes shifting from care and sorrow and  morphing into pure rage once again. “They’re all done. Nobody is ever gonna hurt you again. You’re mine and anyone who touches you- they’re as dead as that guy and everyone that’s ever associated with him.” 

He shifted onto his knee as he stood up, taking off his cutte. He removed the black SAMCRO t-shirt he had on and handed it to you, before putting his hoodie and cutte back on himself again. You placed the t-shirt over your ripped dress, and stood up alongside him. Jax walked over towards The President’s body, collecting the printed photographs that surrounded him on the floor. He flicked through the pictures, scoffing at the evidence.

“This prick’s been trailing us for weeks. These are from a run two months ago.” He carried the stack into the bathroom as he examined the images, before igniting the corners with his lighter, leaving them to burn in the sink. He watched as the flames turned the paper into ash. “Are there more of these?” 

You shrugged your shoulders, “he said this was all he had.” 

Jax picked your jacket off the bathroom floor. He walked back to you, draping it over your shoulders. “Doesn’t even matter. His crew is good as dust.” 

You kneeled to the ground, reaching under the bed for the jammed gun. Jax looked at the weapon in your hands, “Did you try to use it?” 

You handed the metal piece to him, “piece of shit jammed.” 

He hugged you again, wrapping his arms around you. “That’s my girl. Least I got to pummel the cunt to death myself.” He placed the gun into his holder. “Let’s get you home.” Jax held your waist as you both headed for the door. 

“Jax?” 

He looked down at you, “you okay darlin’?” 

Your eyes peered back at the bloodied mess that had unfolded on the motel room floor.

“Maybe we should call that cleanup guy you know.” 

Jax smiled, kissing you reassuringly on the side of your head as you walked together. “I’m on it.”  

———

find my masterlist here

[helvetia7]

held me in your arms just a little too tight⊹ ࣪ ˖

[silverflameataraxia]

[wetpussyju1ce]

jax teller & praise kink

suggestive content mdni

he won't say it out right. but from the moment he started getting complimented and praised by his girl. his brain chemistry started to shift. he would grin and laugh it off when he was praised for fixing something for her. or if he just took our the trash. then he started to look forward to them. everytime he did something good, like, stopping himself from breaking someone's face, he'll look at her w big eyes and she'll grin, "Good job, Jax. You did so well, I'm so so proud of you, baby."

it makes him feel warm. fuzzy.

and it's even better when he gets kisses w the praises. he gets his hair played with. head scratches. then he'll be told he's been good. he's doing his best. and she appreciates it. she's proud of her handsome boy. and his eyes are closed. he feels good. blissed out. allowing himself to be cuddled. praised and coddled by his girl.

he starts to feel like a well trained guard dog. obedient to her. vicious at her command. Gemma hates it. how he would listen like a good boy to a random girl that showed up and captured his heart with big honest eyes. the club doesn't like it either. no one really says anything in fear of getting their shit rocked. but there's an underlying feeling shared by everyone. thinking. waiting for the day he'll betray the club for her. when he won't listen and run off into the sunset w her. leaving everything and everyone behind. they keep thinking abt it even tho jax's girl hasn't done anything to the club. doesn't pull jax away. but it's just the power she holds over him that makes everyone a little nervous. unnerved.