🌟 Inbar @ Inbar Thomas | fanfic on wattpad | Dreamer & storyteller | Passionate fanfiction reader 📚💕 | Dipping my toes into writing my own tales for Jax Teller 🫶🏿🩶 | Here to share my love for words and fandoms, one chapter at a time! 🐦⬛
The bed is warm, tangled from everything you just did. Sheets bunched up at your feet, skin still buzzing. The silence isn’t awkward it’s comforting, like a soft blanket pulled over two hearts still catching their breath. Jax is lying on his back, hair a tousled mess, eyes on the ceiling. But his arm is wrapped tightly around you, holding you close like he’s afraid you might disappear. His fingers trace slow, lazy circles across your collarbone, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.
You’re curled against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calm, even. Like after all the chaos, it’s finally found home.
“I never thought I’d say this,” you whisper, your smile tucked into the curve of his neck, “but I’ve never been this happy. I adore you, Jax.”
He doesn’t move. Just his fingers pause.
“Say that again,” he murmurs, voice low, a little hoarse. “Slowly. Please.”
You lift your head to look at him, and he’s already staring at you like the world shrank down to just your face.
“I adore you, Jackson Teller,” you say again, slow, deliberate, pouring everything you feel into every word.
He smiles, barely there, just the corners of his mouth tugging up, but you know that for him, that’s loud.
“Say it again,” he breathes, pulling you in, brushing your lip with his tongue before kissing you soft (gif), deep, like he’s drinking from something he thought he’d lost forever.
You laugh, a quiet, happy sound, and whisper:
“I. Adore. You.”
He exhales like those words are the only thing keeping him afloat.
“You know…” he says, dragging a fingertip along your cheek, “I spent so long thinking I was done. That there wasn’t anything left in me to love with. Too much of it burned away. And then you came back. And suddenly none of that other shit mattered anymore.”
He kisses your temple soft, slow, reverent. Like he’s trying to absorb you.
“If you ever say you’re not sure about us again,” he mutters, half-laughing, “I’ll shut you up with a kiss so hard, you won’t even remember why you doubted.”
“Is that a threat?” you tease, nose brushing his neck.
“No,” he says, voice quiet and certain. “That’s love.”
Summary: You end up working later into the night than you intended, making a connection you never expected.
Warnings: 18+, none
Author’s note: this happened. It could be more. The ending is meh. But it happened! I wrote! As always, it’s wildly unedited, without even a reread for coherency.
It was getting late. You’d planned to be home hours ago, off your feet and in bed, curled up with the next chapter of your book and some definitely bad-for-you take out food, but you were still shuffling around behind the bar, casting glances to the person sitting just beyond the padded leather doors. There’s beer bottles, full ash trays, and cigarette butts littering the table and you can’t leave until it’s cleaned up but you can’t go in there until the room is empty and Jax hasn’t left his throne since the meeting ended almost six hours ago.
It’s not uncommon to see the President lost in thought, his forehead propped on steppled fingers, a position that could be misconstrued as an act of prayer if you take away the leather, Harley, and ink. Tonight, however, he was setting a record. You didn’t hear the conversations in church, it stayed a level volume for once, and everyone left calmly - not even sticking around to save you from empty boredom. You’d cleaned as much as you were going to clean - they only paid you so much for a night’s work and the longer the President sat around, the less the amount got per hour and you were not about to scrub your fingers to the bone for it. There’s prospects around for that.
You’d given up on even trying to make noise to remind Jax that you were there, waiting to get in the room, but you even gave that up at least two hours ago, instead perching on a stool behind the bar where you watch him out of the corner of your eye without making it seem like you were staring at him directly, waiting on him to move. Or do anything. It was almost impressive how he managed to sit there in almost the exact same position for so long without getting bored or fidgeting. You’d even paused outside the door on one of your passes long enough to see if you could hear him snoring, that perhaps he’d fallen asleep and you could sneak in and finish your tasks and slip out before he woke up, but his red rimmed eyes stared unwatching at the the wall, not even flicking to the door at the sound of your heels clacking by.
When the door opens to the clubhouse, you almost fall off your stool completely. Tara strolls from the door to Church, not even giving your flailing limbs a second glance. You try not to bristle against it, knowing the Doctor has every right to look down on you but also reminding yourself that she hasn’t bothered to even ask you your name, so she really should reserve her judgment because it's not like you’ve liked everything you’ve seen of her.
You contemplate what to do, knowing that you do not want to be a part of whatever conversation they are about to have, but when Jax finally sits back in his chair, a weary smile on his face, you can’t turn away. Tara, his wife you remind yourself, rests against the edge of the table, her back to you, also acting as if you don’t exist. So you act like you don’t, perching back on the stool, content to be nothing but an overlooked piece of furniture at this point. The cooler under the bar kicks on just loud enough that you can’t make out exactly what they are saying, but judging by the way Tara’s arms are moving and that the smile has dropped off Jax’s face, you can’t imagine it’s anything good. Your heart aches at the lost look that’s taken over his face, his blue eyes shining in the low lights of church. She’s got her fingers out now, alternating between waving one in his face then using it to count off fingers on the other hand. You want to move closer to hear what they're saying, surprised it hasn’t gotten loud enough that you can hear it over the cooler hum, but the acoustics of the room within a room are not in your favor.
Whatever she’s saying or asking for, you know Jax is going to give it to her when his leather covered shoulders drop. He holds up a hand but she doesn’t stop, even from your spot behind the bar you can see how taut her body is, her limbs almost shaking as she continues to talk until he grabs her hand, looking up at her with wide, sad eyes. You can see when he says the word, “Okay,” and her whole body sags with relief. He pulls her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles before resting his forehead against them. Only then does she reach out to touch him, her hand cupping the back of his head. You expect him to lean into her, his body to sag in relief, but you notice the tension return to his shoulders at her touch. Tara doesn’t seem to notice however, leaning over him to press a kiss to the top of his head.
He lets her, waiting until she sits upright again to finally push himself from the table. You are amazed when he stands easily, not a single hitch in his movement from sitting for so long as he untangles their fingers and walks around the edge of the table to the safe. He opens the door, crouching down before standing back up with two stacks of bills large enough that your jaw pops from dropping. He looks down at it for a moment, the look on his face indecipherable from your angle, but it's only a second before he walks over Tara, handing them over. Even from behind, you can tell she’s shocked but she barely hesitates as she takes the money, cramming it in her purse. Jax slips his hands in his pockets, his chin tucked, sadness and resignation radiating from every poor on his body.
Tara turns to leave, but quickly turns back around, throwing her arms around him. You catch the surprise on his face, but he wraps her in what looks to be a bone crushing hug. You expect it to last longer than what it does, but the intensity of it burns it up between one blink and the next and she’s walking out of church, with the tears you can finally see streaming down her face. You follow her trajectory out the door with a sad but confused look on your face, wondering what that could have possibly been about. The door closes before you turn your eyes back to church and stare straight into Jax’s eyes.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.
While it doesn’t sound angry, you still have to swallow the nerves snaking up your throat before answering him. “I, uh -,” you swallow again, “I was on closing shift.”
The corners of his mouth turn down into a frown, his heavy brow furrowing. “Everyone cleared out hours ago.”
You nod, the confusion on his face helping ease your tension. “Yea, um. I gotta get the, uh, table in there cleaned up. Before I head out.”
Jax’s eyes drop to the table, seeing the mess left over from the meeting for the first time. “Oh, shit. Uh, yea.” His hands come up to wipe down his face. “Sorry, I, uh. I didn’t mean to be in here that long.”
You’d already started walking around the bar with a small trash can and a bucket full of cleaning supplies while he was talking, but you stop at the door. “It’s no problem,” you lie, knowing that you didn’t make shit tonight with everyone leaving right away and the hundred dollars you got for being here barely stretched out to minimum wage with as long as you sat around. You expect him to head out now, but instead you are staring at each other across the table, still unwilling to step across the threshold while he’s in the room.
You stand there, staring at each other for a moment, until he says, “Do you need me to leave?”
The laugh barks out of your chest before you can stop it. The President asking you if he should leave church. “Uh, no, you don’t have to,” you say with a smile. The echo of Gemma’s voice still does not let you step into church without explicit permission though, so you ask, “Is it okay if I come in?”
“Yea, yea, of course.” You almost feel bad for how awkward he looks, knowing that whatever just happened between him and Tara has obviously thrown him for a loop, but you don’t have the time for it right now as you wanted to be gone hours ago. You start making quick work of the table as he shuffles off to the side, finally heading out for the night. Bottles clang together in your trash can as you grab them two and three at a time so you almost miss it when he asks, “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
You do pause then, turning to look at him as he stands in the doorway. The question is downright silly - as if you didn’t have the rules of the clubhouse hammered into your head by Gemma. ‘You don’t go into church when the club is there.’ ‘You never ask the President for anything.’ You’d wondered how much of that was holdover from times before because Jax seemed too laid back to give a shit about all that, but it's not like you two were besties for you to know any different. So although you know it's taking a chance, you say, “And interrupt your brooding? I wouldn’t dare.”
When the smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, you toss him a wink before turning back to your duties. With one half of the table clear of debris, you grab the bottle of cleaner, shooting at the table. Grabbing your rag you almost jump out of your skin at the clanging of bottles being dropped into the trash can. By the time you calm your heart, Jax is already gathering more bottles and garbage from the far end of the table. “You don’t have to do that,” you say, working your arm in circles around the table.
“It’s fine,” he says, dropping another load in before lifting the can.
“Seriously, Jax. I’ve got it. You should head home.” He freezes and you almost kick yourself - after witnessing whatever just happened with him and Tara, home is probably the last place he wanted to be. An apology starts to tumble from your lips but he holds up his hand to stop you.
“What did you hear?”
You tell him the truth. “Nothing. The cooler kicked on when she got here.”
“If anybody asks -”
“I didn’t see a thing,” you answer, keeping your eyes on his, the only way you have to let him know he can trust you.
He laughs, but it's anything but funny, the sudden sadness pouring off of him as if the words you just said cut him to the bone. “No,” he says, his voice thick. “No more secrets. If anyone asks, you saw me willingly give Tara that money and my blessing.”
Shock paralyzes your tongue for a moment. You blink once, twice, three times, but it doesn’t help you understand the information any easier, let alone how you have become the sole witness to something that may be even bigger and more complicated than you realize. Jax sees the apprehension on your face and grants you mercy by explaining.
“She’s leaving Charming. Leaving me. Taking the boys.” You can’t form a response before he continues. “It’s been a long time coming. I held on for so long before I wondered what the hell I was holding on for. She’s not happy, I’m not happy. Thomas and Abel don’t deserve to grow up like that, like this, like…,” he pauses but you still hear the ‘me’ he left unsaid. “So I told her to take what she needed and go,” he ends with a shrug.
You swallow, realizing you are the only other person in the world that knows this information at this moment in time, and for just a second you feel the weight that he carries every day, how something with virtually no weight at all can drag down on your soul. People aren’t going to be happy about this. Gemma isn’t going to be happy about this. You wonder if this is the decision he sat making for the last six hours, how long he’s known this was coming. You can’t voice any of that though, so all you have to offer is, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It was never going to last,” he says. “She only came back to Charming to get help with a problem, I should have never asked her to stay.” You haven’t been around long enough to know what he’s talking about but from the dark look on his face you definitely aren’t going to ask. “We’ve been nothing but poison to each other since we were kids. Not enough’s changed for me to expect any different.”
You nod in agreement. “First love will do that to you.” He looks up at you, curiosity in his eyes but you just give him a smile. “Story for another time.”
Without another word, you get back to cleaning up, Jax emptying the trash while you scrub down the last of the table. He waits by the door as you tuck your supplies behind the bar. It's custom for someone to stay behind and walk out the last person, but it's usually the prospect, not the President. You open your mouth to say thanks but he beats you to it.
“Thanks for tonight. Sorry I kept you waiting around so long.”
You shrug, digging your keys out. “Not a big deal,” you say, shocked that you actually mean it. The waiting around was worth it for Jax to not be there alone tonight, even if you couldn’t do much to ease the pain he’s going through.
“Just tell me to clear out next time.”
You meet his eyes, flicking between them, closer to the bright blue than you’ve ever been before. “You know I won’t do that.”
He gives an empty chuckle, “You’d be the first.”
If circumstances were different, you can’t help but wonder if the night air would have crackled between you. The goosebumps on your skin seem to think so, but you can’t look past the sadness in his eyes to tell for sure. You wish, for once, someone would choose to take away his sadness and pain. Knowing what it's like to live with it long term, you would never wish it on anyone else, even though you see it reflected in the man in front of you. Before you let yourself say something foolish, you swing open your door and slide into the driver seat, waving at him before pulling out of the lot. You glance at him in the review, the sun peeking over the horizon behind him, coating him in swaths of orange and yellows, the daybreak warming something in your chest and you can’t help but feel that the dawning of this day was going to be one that you looked back on that changed the rest of your life.
Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!biker!Reader Word Count: 3k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]
warnings/tags: 18+; bisexual!Reader, canon-typical violence, canon-divergence, sexual content/smut, angst, MC president!Reader, Tara drama
After the Insurgents MC unanimously vote in a deal with the IRA to help distribute their guns east, your club ends up in a partnership with SAMCRO. You're prepared to deal with their inevitable lack of faith in your leadership as a female and the backlash of a potential turf war with the Hellspawn Outlaws. But you're not prepared for your new partner to stir up things you've never let yourself feel before, or for how much you care when his ex returns to Charming.
a/n: This is going to be a drama-filled fic where Jax meets a woman who is quite literally his equal in so many ways. There's a bit more info on Reader in the Series Masterlist, but otherwise, I always strive to keep things as inclusive and physically description-less as possible so everyone can hopefully enjoy. Feedback is always appreciated!
series tag list: @kmc1989 @secretlysamcro @thedreadandthefugitivemind @the-jer-bear @tendertulip @latinakitty17
With a finger running along the rim of his glass of whiskey, Jax’s mind spun with a hundred different thoughts while he sat at the bar. Just outside of the clubhouse, the sound of McCormick’s SUV beginning to pull out of the Sons’ compound rumbled over the growing silence left lingering in the stateside Irish delegate's wake.
All of the Sons sat scattered around the main room of the clubhouse, but not a single one of them had commented on the news that McCormick had just dropped on them. One look at all of the solemn expressions in the room told Jax everything he needed to know–this was big. It was serious.
Shit was changing.
The Irish wanted an expansion. McCormick had made a surprise visit out to Charming just to inform the Sons that the Irish Kings were pushing their guns out further east after picking up buyers in the mafia near Chicago. But the Sons’ reach and current partnerships clearly didn't extend quite that far, an issue that the Irish had already been working through on their end. Without a word of warning, they'd taken it upon themselves to stake out an additional business partnership, not bothering to obtain the Sons’ input or approval–something that pissed off Jax. But there wasn't a single fucking thing he could do about it, the deal had been made and set.
The Irish had apparently decided to bring a nearby outlaw motorcycle club into the decades-long arrangement behind the Sons’ backs. They'd chosen to recruit the Insurgents MC. All Jax knew about them was that they were an expansive club, an MC which was larger than the Sons of Anarchy themselves, whose territory and charters expanded out east and towards Chicago where the Irish had made new ties with the Italians.
Neither Jax or any of the other Sons had ever worked with or had contact with the Insurgents. But Jax was aware that the mother charter's location was in a small town closer to Reno, Nevada–about two hours away from the Sons in Charming. While the Sons had never had beef with their club, they'd also never had a reason to do business with them, either. Which meant Jax knew next to nothing about their new business partners.
Expelling a rough breath at a table near the bar, the sound drew Jax’s eye over to where Bobby sat with an unhappy Happy. One of Bobby’s large hands combed through his dark beard as he finally turned his attention over to where Jax was sitting. That grim expression remained on his face when their eyes met.
“This is gonna cause some serious problems,” he warned Jax, finally breaking the lingering silence. “The Irish are asking us to distribute right through Hellspawn territory. That's gonna bring heat down on the Insurgents and us by association, Jax. You realize that, right?”
Jax's jaw tightened at Bobby’s words, his hand leaving his glass, his fingers instead beginning to absently run back and forth along his mouth as his mind continued to jump from one potential problem straight to the next. He already had a feeling that this new expansion wasn't just about finding a way to run the guns out east, but about giving this new MC the Irish had forced on the Sons the backup they'd need to handle the potential fallout of this Irish and Italian deal. This wasn't going to be some easy new cash flow in exchange for just a bit more work, it was going to be dangerous. There would be repercussions.
“This is gonna stir up some shit,” Chibs agreed, looking farther down from where he sat at the bar to Jax. “Smells like the start of a gang war. Hellspawn aren’t a small-time club, Jackie boy.”
A curse fell sharply out of Jax’s mouth, the hand running over his lips as he'd been thinking roughly coming down hard onto the bar with a loud smack. The amber liquor in his glass shifted at the impact as Jax grit his teeth again.
“So they're gonna be out for blood,” Jax spat. “And we don't even know if this other MC the damn Irish got us partnered with is gonna be any fuckin’ use to us in a war like this against the Hellspawns. And there ain’t shit we can do about it.”
Tig's foot came out in his aggravated pacing, frustratedly kicking the toe of his boot at the leg of a chair. The chair jolted onto its back legs at the impact before toppling over with a loud clatter that echoed through the palpable tension in the room. With a grunt from behind Jax, Opie pulled a cigarette out from the pack inside of his kutte and lit it, taking a deep drag as the scowl remained on his face. The weight of what was happening–which was entirely out of all of their damn hands–hung heavy over the men.
“T.O. has done business with them before,” Bobby said slowly. His eyes narrowed somewhat in contemplation as he stared down at the beer bottle on the table in front of him. “I remember him mentioning the Insurgents a few months back.” Shifting his focus, his attention landed back on Jax. “You should call him. See what he knows about this club. It'd at least give us some intel on who the hell we’re gonna be workin’ with.”
Sighing in frustration, Jax knew Bobby had a point. They shouldn’t be walking into this whole arrangement entirely blind and ignorant of their new alliance. Reaching a hand into the pocket inside of his kutte, Jax pulled out his cell phone. Quietly scrolling through his list of contacts as the weight of the Sons’ eyes fell on him, Jax searched for the number of the Grim Bastard's president. Once he found it, he pushed the button and dialed T.O. before placing the call on speakerphone. Jax set his phone down onto the bar while it rang, the noise cutting through the heavy silence of the clubhouse. It took a few rings before T.O. finally answered.
“Jax, brother, ‘sup?” T.O.’s deep voice greeted over the line. “Somethin’ going on?”
“Nah, man, everything’s good,” Jax replied, not wanting to bring the Sons’ bullshit to the Grim Bastards. They didn't need the details. “Just found ourselves in a new business arrangement against our will, if you feel me.” He paused, one ringed hand running over his slicked back hair as he stared at the phone on the bar in front of him. “Bobby mentioned you guys worked with the Insurgents in the past. That true?”
“Yeah,” T.O. easily answered. “Had a few deals with ‘em for a bit. Only worked with the mother charter out near Sierra Heights, though. Never met any of the others.”
“What do you know about them?” Jax asked curiously. He rested his elbows along the bar counter, leaning over it as he listened carefully to T.O. “They good guys to work with?”
An amused, rumbling chuckle met Jax’s question almost immediately. Jax’s eyes narrowed at the unexpected reaction, his gaze shifting over to Opie still standing nearby. He raised a silent, questioning brow at his vice president, but Opie only shrugged and shook his head in response before taking another drag on his cigarette. Pressing his lips together in annoyance, Jax focused back down on the phone.
“What?” Jax asked, trying to push back his irritation. “They that bad to work with or somethin’, man?”
“No, no,” T.O. answered quickly, still chuckling over the line. “Definitely nothin’ like that. They're all good, Jax. Loyal as hell and incredibly capable. It's just…they're not all good guys. Y'know?”
Jax's eyebrows briefly tugged together at that. The fuck was that supposed to mean? He'd said it like Jax should have known what he was getting at, which was only beginning to irritate him further after McCormick's visit.
“So what, there's one piece of shit running with ‘em or somethin’?” Jax pressed. “That what you're sayin’?”
“No, I'm sayin’ their MC isn't all men,” T.O. explained, clearly amused at Jax’s ignorance. “They got a female president, man. You really never heard ‘bout her before?”
Jax straightened in his seat at the information, his brows knitting tightly together as he tried to process what he’d just heard. There was a fucking girl running an outlaw MC? And the goddamn Irish were stupid enough to bring them into their partnership? Were they trying to kill both clubs and their deal with this dumbass bullshit all at once?
Looking away from his phone, Jax's eyes ran over each of the Sons. Everyone met his gaze with a similar mixture of confusion, concern, and disbelief. At the far end of the bar, Jax noticed Juice grab his laptop and flip it open, his fingers flying across the keyboard now. No doubt he was trying to see what he could pull up on the Insurgents after that.
“Never heard of some little girl running a club before, no,” Jax replied bitterly, focusing back on the phone call.
T.O. huffed out a breath over his end of the line. “Jax, brother, I don't recommend disrespectin’ her, or talkin’ down to her just because she's a woman,” he warned. “She's not one to mess with. She might be the daughter of the entire club's founder, but lemme tell you, she didn't get her position because of her daddy. She damn well earned it, man. That crazy broad is ruthless and dangerous.”
The look of utter confusion and disbelief remained on Jax’s face, a soft breath passing between his lips. T.O. had to be shitting him, right? Some girl was a ruthless and dangerous leader? Running an entire motorcycle club on her own? Keeping a bunch of violent men in line? That sounded like some fucking made up bullshit. How had he never even heard of her before if that was true?
“Goes by Harbinger,” T.O. added. “Maybe you’ve heard that name before?”
That gave Jax pause, his entire body stiffening against the bar at the sound of it. He’d heard that one thrown around a couple of times in passing, aware that it was someone connected to the Insurgents, but he’d never heard that the Harbinger was a woman. The Harbinger had a…serious reputation. There was no way that was a goddamn chick.
“Yeah, I have,” Jax agreed slowly, shaking his head at his phone. “But…that can’t be right, man. The Harbinger is not a name spoken lightly. How the fuck is that some chick?”
T.O. snorted at the question, the sound once more causing Jax’s lips to curl downwards in annoyance. As if it wasn't bad enough that the Irish had dumped this all onto his lap without warning, now he was going to be working alongside some female biker president that Jax couldn't possibly believe was as capable as he was being told.
“‘Cause she ain't just some chick, Jax,” T.O. replied. “Got a hell of a good crew backin’ her, too. Don't let first impressions fool you. If you're workin’ with her, she's one hell of an ally to have on your side, brother.”
Jax sighed in resignation, glancing around the clubhouse at the other Sons again. They all appeared to be feeling the same way he was about the information–uncomfortable and pissed. Rubbing a hand across his forehead, he knew there wasn't much more he could do here, not unless this Harbinger fucked up enough for the Irish to want to cut ties with her club. Which Jax found himself already secretly hoping would happen.
“Suppose if you're gonna vouch for them, I gotta be…open-minded,” Jax said, the word coming out like it tasted sour.
“Relax, man,” T.O. soothed over the phone. “She's good. And y'know, you might even think she's fun. Can throw back liquor with the best of us. Gotta wild side just like the rest of us, too–so long as you don't go gettin’ on her bad side.”
“Bad side?” Jax repeated, his eyes narrowing at his phone.
“Yeah, you don't wanna end up there. Trust me, man. Just don't piss her off,” T.O. forewarned him. “She doesn’t tolerate disrespect. But then again, who the fuck does, am I right?”
Not feeling much better about the entire arrangement even after the call, Jax exchanged goodbyes with the Grim Bastards’ president before hanging up his phone. Another look around the clubhouse at his brothers had Jax growing even more aware of the fact that none of them felt much more confident in the new situation they’d just been thrown into by the Irish, either. But before Jax could try to address the guys, Juice's head popped up from over the top of his laptop across the room, a wide grin spread across his face. Feeling his irritation only further rising, Jax shifted in his chair and focused his attention on Juice.
“What?” Jax snapped.
“Found them,” Juice answered, undeterred by his president's attitude. “Their club owns a towing and collision repair shop out in Sierra Heights.”
“Okay, so why the fuck are ya grinnin’ like that?” Chibs shot back at him. “Ya want a pat on the back for your Googlin' skills, brother?”
Juice shook his head, that grin on his face only growing wider and more ridiculous by the second. He turned his laptop around on the bar, the screen now facing the rest of the members in the clubhouse. Without a word, Jax leaned forward along the bartop, his eyes dropping down to the screen and what Juice had been trying to show them.
A low whistle rang out from Tig almost instantly, his pacing finally coming to an abrupt halt beside the bar. Juice only bobbed his head in a nod of agreement with Tig. Because on the screen of his laptop was the image of an attractive woman standing in front of what was clearly the business Juice had said your club ran–the legitimate one. Sierra Heights Towing and Collision Repair.
“Christ, is that the girl?” Chibs questioned in surprise.
“Yeah,” Juice replied, that goofy grin still on his face. “That’s the Insurgents’ president.”
Jax’s eyes ran over the countless visible tattoos beneath the sleeves of the shirt you were wearing in the photo. He couldn’t exactly deny the obvious confidence in the way you held yourself, and despite the fact that this photo was meant to be some sort of professional headshot for your business’ website, he also couldn't deny how attractive he found you at first glance. You were someone he’d have noticed stepping into the clubhouse within a matter of seconds, someone who clearly held a presence, someone Jax would have found himself approaching in different circumstances. But how fuckable Jax found you wasn't exactly what mattered in this situation. You were going to be his new business partner and ally, but you looked more like someone he’d want to keep warming his bed instead.
“That broad is the one runnin’ an MC and cutting deals with the Irish?” Tig asked, walking closer to the laptop screen as if he was drawn to it. He shook his head in disbelief, one hand reaching out to touch the image gently with his fingertips, as if he was actually touching you instead of the picture on the screen. A second later, his head darted over his shoulder as he focused on Jax with an almost desperate look on his face. “Jax, brother,” he practically pleaded, “we gotta meet her. Just look at her.”
A frown curled Jax’s lips downwards as he met Tig's gaze. “So she's hot, so what?” he shot back. “You wanna meet her cause you think she's gonna flash the Hellspawn her tits and subdue them into backing off of us? Think she can suck their cocks and fix all our problems for the Irish, Tig?”
For a moment, Tig paused as his head tilted to the side, looking like he was contemplating if they could have you do exactly that. With a roll of his eyes, Jax picked up his glass of whiskey from the bar, the glass pausing halfway to his mouth.
“C’mon, man. Get your goddamn head on straight. We're gonna meet her soon anyway,” he pointed out bitterly. “You heard McCormick. He's setting up somethin’ soon with both clubs. Wants us to get along.”
Raising his glass to his lips, Jax took a deep drink from it, feeling the alcohol burn on its way down. His eyes swept around the room at his men once more, his own expression hardening at the way they kept glancing back at Juice’s laptop screen to the image of you, curiosity and interest now written on their faces.
“I wanna meet her and find out how goddamn capable she is for myself,” Jax stated sharply, lowering his glass back to the bar. “With what we're about to get tangled up in ‘cause of the damn Irish, I'd hope that's what you all are focused on, too. Not how much you’re thinkin’ about trying to get her into your goddamn beds.”
Pushing his chair back from the bar, Jax rose to his feet in irritation. He couldn't sit here and watch his men act like this over a fucking photo. Heading straight to the chapel, Jax was dreading working alongside this female president already. There was no way in hell you had what it took to survive in the kind of world Jax had grown up in, the one he'd spent his life learning to navigate. He figured it wouldn't be long before the Irish realized their mistake with bringing your ass into things and kicked you back to the outside.
As Jax pushed open one of the doors to the chapel, he overheard Tig talking to the other Sons behind him. Jax grit his teeth at the almost wistful tone of the man’s voice.
“Just imagine that beautiful creature covered in blood,” he told the others. “Riding a Harley.”
With an agitated grunt, Jax slammed the door of the chapel shut behind him.
Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 4.5k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]
Warnings/tags: 18+; nurse!Reader, canon-divergence (no Abel or Thomas), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, girl dad Jax
a/n: I've had this series stuck in my head and I'm curious to see the reactions y'all have to these next few chapters! I've been binge writing them... Feedback is always appreciated! Dividers by the lovely @secretlysamcro.
Standing beside the hospital bed, you found yourself in a stare down with the last patient on your rounds for today. The rhythmic beeping of his heart monitor repeatedly broke through the silence of his room as he held your stare with his own. Placing one hand on your hip, you absolutely refused to back down from this standoff.
You raised the chocolate pudding cup in front of yourself, watching Chibs’ attention switch from you to the dessert in your hand. “We had a deal for this past week, Chibs,” you reminded him, shaking the pudding cup to emphasize your point. “That's the only way this works.”
“Bit more like a bribe, sweetheart,” he countered, his eyes narrowing as he met your gaze again. “And what's a few ounces of water even matter? I'm gettin’ discharged this afternoon.”
“Well, until then,” you began, turning around and setting the pudding cup down onto his bedside table, just out of his reach, “you're still my patient. In my care. And we–” you turned back towards him, crossing your arms over your chest and fitting him with the same stare you used on Em, “–had a deal. Drink your water if you want the extra pudding cup.”
Chibs frowned back at you, but you didn't ease up on the stern expression and the Mom Stare you'd long since perfected. You'd done this dance far more times than you could count with a four year old who's brain wasn't nearly as developed enough to comprehend logic and reasoning, especially when she really wanted something. So Chibs? He was nothing in comparison to your stubborn and hard-headed girl. He broke far easier than Em would have for his damn extra pudding cups.
After another few beeps from his heart monitor marked the passing time, he finally folded. Releasing a sigh, his shoulders dropped before he reluctantly reached a hand out. Grinning triumphantly, you grabbed the large jug of ice water he'd been avoiding drinking and placed it into his awaiting hand.
“Swear ya must be a witch,” he muttered.
Biting your lip, you fought down your laughter as you switched your focus to filling out his medical chart for the last time. Admittedly, you were going to miss seeing him on your rounds since he was getting discharged this afternoon. He was the last patient on your schedule for today, meaning this would be your last visit with him. Over this past week that he'd been here, he'd brightened your days at this small hospital far more than your other patients–like Mrs. Trenton down in room 245. She spent most of her time telling you how her eldest son was the devil because he wouldn't sneak her food into the hospital that went against her dietary restrictions.
“Not a witch,” you assured him, focused on filling out his chart, your head bowed over the clipboard. “Just have a lot of experience with getting my stubborn daughter to listen to me.”
Chibs swallowed his water, lowering the jug to his lap as he eyed you curiously. As your pen continued to scratch across the paper, you could see him watching you from his bed out of the corner of your eye. He'd told you he had a daughter the other day as well. Though he'd never elaborated on it further, and the somber look in his eyes when he'd mentioned her kept you from asking any questions.
“She get that from her mother?” he asked curiously. “That stubborn streak you're always talkin’ about?”
Grinning, you shook your head as you continued working on his chart. “No, not from me. I'm not nearly as hard-headed as she is,” you told him, a fondness in your words as you spoke about her. “Probably gets it from her father.”
When you realized what you'd said, you fell quiet, the grin gradually falling off your face as you continued writing down a few notes on the chart. Emilia’s father was a difficult topic for you. It wasn't as if you wanted people to know that you'd hooked up with a stranger for one night and the encounter had resulted in your daughter because people were judgemental.
Even if that night with him had been beyond incredible–and one of the last times you'd really had sex, or at least great sex. You'd obviously not been with anyone during the time you'd been pregnant with Emilia, and at the time, that had been the furthest thing from your mind. After Emilia was born, you had attempted to date, but the moment you mentioned your little girl, the dates always ceased.
Eventually, you'd resorted to having one time flings, getting a sitter for Em so that you could have a few hours to be something other than mom for a while. But those nights only further proved how unique that first night had been with Em's father–because you were quick to discover flings did not go like they had that night. They were quick, unsatisfying, and boring, so you’d given up years ago. It had always just been you and Em ever since she’d come into your life.
“Never seem to want to talk about her father,” Chibs pointed out. “Why is that?”
“I never really knew him,” you stated softly, still focused on the clipboard.
Judging by the quiet hum he made in response, you knew he understood what you hadn’t actually said. Em had been a surprise, fathered by a stranger. You figured if anyone in this town wouldn't judge you, Chibs was probably one of them.
“Ahh, I see,” he replied. “At least he wasn't some deadbeat prick that needed his arse kicked. Though I woulda been happy to do that for ya.”
Lowering your pen to the paper, you turned and looked over at Chibs, a small smile creeping over your face. “Can't say most of my patients repeatedly offer to beat up men for me,” you teased lightly. “I'll definitely miss having you around here.”
“So ya do like me,” he shot back with a chuckle. “I knew it, sweetheart. Can't really resist my charms.”
You rolled your eyes at him playfully before grabbing your clipboard from the counter. Chibs lifted the jug of water from his lap, taking a few deep drinks through the straw. As he drank, you turned and grabbed the bedside table, wheeling it closer to him so he could reach the pudding cup.
“Enjoy your last stolen pudding cup,” you told him. “But you should really drink more water when you're out of here.”
Chibs was quick to set his water down and grab the dessert, a soft laugh falling out of you as he tore into it. You didn't know the rest of the guys in his motorcycle club, but he seemed harmless enough. You still didn't understand why the other nurses here were so against caring for him, acting like they thought he’d shoot them for taking his blood pressure or administering some pain medication.
“Be honest with ya, sweetheart,” he said, already scooping up some pudding with a spoon, “that ain't gonna happen.”
“Could have at least lied to me,” you pointed out with a grin, beginning to walk towards the hospital room door. You could hear loud voices coming from down the hall just outside of it, but you kept your focus on Chibs. “I hope I don't see you injured back in here, but I will miss your awful jokes brightening my days. Take care of yourself, alright?”
“Aye,” he said with a nod. “You as well, sweetheart.”
You gave him one last goodbye before turning and opening the door of his room, stepping into the hall where the unmistakable noise of his friends was impossible to ignore. Glancing over towards the right, you saw a group of Sons making their way towards Chibs’ room. You had been about to turn away from the loud bikers and continue down the hall, needing to change out of your scrubs and go pick up Emilia from preschool, but then your eyes caught onto a set of blue ones.
He froze and so did you.
Hugging your clipboard against your chest, your breath died in your throat as the rowdy group continued their way towards Chibs’ room. None of the others seemed to notice the strange way you’d gone entirely immobile just staring at the blonde who was staring back at you. Maybe it was partly due to the fact that the hospital staff here always treated them differently, but you didn't give it much more thought. You were too distracted by how the blonde had reacted to you, just standing there staring at you with wide, surprised eyes that probably mirrored your own.
As the others continued obliviously into the room you'd just exited, one guy with a thick, dark beard and a neck tattoo hung behind when he finally realized his group was a man down. Returning to his side, he nudged an arm against the blonde whose face was quickly resurfacing in your mind from so long ago. The taller man leaned over, asking him something you couldn’t quite hear. The blonde nodded before his friend glanced over at you for a moment, a curious look in his eyes before he turned and joined the other Sons in Chibs’ hospital room.
Then you were left standing alone in the hallway with him, your heart violently pounding in your chest as you stared at the man you had no doubt was your daughter’s father. The man who had absolutely no idea he had a child with you. And considering he didn't know that, it only made his strange reaction to you incredibly confusing and unusual. He seemed to have recognized you just as quickly himself even though it'd been five years since you’d spent those few hours together, something you were certain he'd done countless times with other women since then.
Why did he recognize you? How could he possibly have remembered you?
He took a few cautious steps towards you in his pristine Nikes like he wasn’t entirely certain if he should. Squeezing your clipboard tighter to your chest, you still felt as if you couldn’t breathe. You were carrying a secret he had no idea about. A massive, life-changing one. While years ago you’d initially wanted to find some way to tell him when you’d discovered you were pregnant, now you had absolutely no idea what to say. You were entirely unprepared for this encounter. You’d known he’d been in some sort of motorcycle club back then, but you hadn’t ever thought that it could be the one here where you’d just moved.
The silence felt suffocating the longer it stretched on in the otherwise empty hallway, your nerves steadily rising as his eyes scanned over your face in disbelief. You didn’t know what to even say, but you knew that you couldn’t just blurt out the truth to him. That wasn’t something you just dropped on somebody five years later the second you saw them. But while your mind was racing with thoughts about having found your daughter’s father unexpectedly all these years later, you had no idea what the hell was running through his mind with the way he kept staring at you.
“You’re…” he began, that odd look still on his face. “You’re the girl from Fresno.”
Palms beginning to sweat against the clipboard you were holding in a death grip, a strained smile tugged at your lips. “I guess? I mean I used to live there,” you told him. “I uh, moved. Recently.” Your eyes darted towards Chibs’ room where the Sons were currently still making raucous conversation inside despite being down a man. “Obviously,” you added awkwardly, focusing back on him.
A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips at your answer, like he’d been surprised but pleased to hear it. “So you remember who I am?” he asked.
How the hell would you ever be able to forget him? That night had been easily the best sex you’d ever had and probably would ever have. But besides that, he’d given you your daughter. The one thing you loved above anything in the world. Of course you hadn’t entirely forgotten him, you’d just never expected to ever meet him again.
“Yeah,” you answered. “You look a bit different now, but I’m pretty sure there’s only one biker who’d have a reason to recognize me. Though I’m…truthfully kind of surprised you even remember me.”
He bit his lip, fighting back the growing smile as he took a few steps closer towards you, closing some of the distance between you both in the hallway. Your feet remained rooted to the floor as he stopped a short distance from you. Unable to resist, your eyes began to scan him over in return.
He’d changed from the memory you had of him all those years ago. The long, shaggy hair had been replaced with a different style, something slicked back and neater. His facial hair wasn’t nearly as unkempt and outgrown, but he still had that blonde beard on his handsome face–a face which had only grown more attractive over the years. He’d matured from the young man you’d taken home with you back then to the broad, muscular man standing in front of you now. But he still carried that dangerous aura which oddly drew you in instead of away.
“Couldn’t forget you, if I’m being honest,” he admitted.
He still had that smooth voice of his, too. You remembered how it had once murmured such dirty things into your ears, but even now it could still make your pulse quicken.
“That was a damn good night,” he added.
Clearing your throat, you felt goosebumps prickle along your forearms at the comment. A ‘damn good night’ seemed like a vast understatement to the way you’d both been so completely tangled up in each other for hours.
“Yeah, it was definitely something,” you agreed quietly.
The smile lingered on his lips as something hid behind his pretty blue eyes. But the longer you held his stare trying to make sense of it, the more you began to realize that Emilia’s eyes were the same shape as his, and that smile he was wearing looked incredibly familiar, too. She’d inherited more than you’d realized from her father.
“Honestly, darlin’, I never thought I’d run into you again,” he confessed with a shake of his head. “But now you live in Charming?”
You nodded, the nerves in your stomach growing under the weight of his gaze. Five years ago, you'd had a completely different reaction to his undivided attention than you were having now.
“Just moved here about three weeks ago,” you replied.
Still hugging the clipboard tight to your chest, you could feel the erratic thudding of your heart beneath it. While part of you wanted to stay and talk to him–admittedly you could feel that familiar attraction and the strange draw towards him even years later–you knew you really couldn’t. Besides the fact that you needed to pick up your daughter from preschool, you were also struggling not to just blurt out the words ‘you got me pregnant’ the longer you stood here with him.
But you knew dropping that on him out of nowhere would not be the best way to disclose the news to him. Which was apparently now something you needed to figure out how the hell to even go about doing, but a run-in with him for the first time in years didn’t seem like the best time. Especially when you really needed to get going and didn’t have time to sit here and answer the questions he might have.
Running a hand over his mouth, he nodded his head at your answer. With the way he was acting, it seemed like he wasn’t ready to let this conversation just end. He hadn’t excused himself to go into Chibs’ hospital room with the other Sons, lingering in the hall like he'd rather be out here with you. Which only had you growing curious about why that was.
“You move out here with a boyfriend or somethin’?” he questioned next.
Lips parting in surprise at the blunt, bold question, both of your brows rose up onto your forehead. The man chuckled at the look on your face while you contemplated the audacity of him asking about your relationship status so quickly and easily.
“Just wondering. Don't know if I gotta worry about some guy tryin’ to start shit with me for having history with you,” he told you, shrugging his shoulders in faux innocence. “Just wanna make sure I’m not kicking someone’s ass that I probably shouldn’t, y’know?”
Somehow you had a feeling he wouldn't mind kicking anyone's ass.
“No, I uh, definitely didn’t move here with anyone like that,” you answered him.
You’d been about to add on that you’d moved here with your daughter, but the words got stuck in your throat. Tongue feeling like it had turned to lead, you couldn’t get the words out. Because if you told him about your daughter, you felt like you needed to tell him the full truth. And you'd already established that it didn't feel like the time and place.
“So no guys I gotta be lookin’ out for, huh?” he teased, unaware of your internal conflict.
It felt like there was something else in his words, a flirtatious undertone. While you’d love to have a repeat of that night–sans another pregnancy–you couldn’t just sleep with him now. The dynamic between you two was going to get messy and strange once you finally did tell him the truth. If he didn’t want to be in Emilia’s life, you couldn’t possibly imagine letting him sleep with you again. But if he did want to be, well, that further complicated matters when it came to possibly co-parenting with him in the future.
“Not at the moment, no,” you told him.
You caught the way his head tilted to the side and his smile grew wider before your attention shifted to the clock hanging on the wall in the hallway. You needed to get out of the hospital and go pick up Emilia from preschool before you were late. As if he’d figured out where your thoughts were, you saw his smile had dimmed when you focused back on him.
“Gotta go?” he asked, sounding a bit disappointed.
“I’m actually off my shift now,” you told him, gesturing your thumb down the hallway behind you. “I was on my way to change out of my scrubs and…I needed to make an appointment.”
The lie felt uncomfortable and wrong as it fell out of you, but what else were you supposed to say? If you mentioned a daughter now, you knew you’d feel even worse lying to his face by not telling him that the daughter you were picking up wasn’t just yours.
“Don’t let me hold you up then, darlin’,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you around town now that you live here.”
“Yeah, I'm sure,” you replied awkwardly.
Biting your lip nervously, you ignored the weird sensation in your gut as you took a step away from him, the feeling begging you to just spill absolutely everything to him. Instead, you released the clipboard with one hand and gave him a brief wave before you turned around, beginning to head in the opposite direction down the hall.
“Wait!”
You’d only managed to take a handful of steps before he’d called out after you. Stopping at the sound of his voice, you looked over your shoulder at him behind you. He was smiling again, and that hint of something in his eyes had returned, the sight of it making your heart skip. Even after all this time, he still had that same effect on you.
“Can I get a name this time?” he called after you. “To finally go with the pretty face?”
Unable to help yourself, a small smile spread over your lips. He was still far too smooth for his own good and dammit if it still didn't work for you, too. You called back to him, giving him your name and watching some unknown emotion flicker across his face.
“You have a name?” you questioned in return.
“Jackson,” he told you, already beginning to walk backwards towards the door to Chibs’ hospital room with something in his step. “But I go by Jax, darlin’.”
And there you finally had it. Emilia’s father’s name. Five years after the fact.
“Was good running into you,” he said, his grin growing a bit cocky as his hand pressed down on the handle of the hospital door, pushing it open. “Be seein’ you.”
“Yeah,” you agreed. “I'm sure you will.”
But not for whatever reason he was probably expecting.
Sitting on the couch in your living room, you barely paid attention to the show that was playing on your television. You were sitting on your couch with your legs tucked up beside you, trying to relax before bed this evening. Harley, your pitbull mix, stretched his legs out on the cushion beside you, raising his large, gray head as his mouth opened wide in a yawn. Afterwards, he lazily dropped his head onto your thigh, dark eyes staring up at you. Glancing down at him, his tired eyes met yours before one of your hands absently landed on his head and began to pet him.
Your surprise encounter earlier with Jax at the hospital had been on your mind for the rest of the day. It had been near impossible to focus on what Emilia had been telling you about her morning at preschool–and anything else she’d been going on about the rest of the day–because your thoughts kept drifting back to him. You had not expected to run into him in Charming. Or ever, for that matter.
As much as you'd wanted to focus on the fact that he seemed like he was interested in you, or at least interested in sleeping with you again, all you could focus on was how you were supposed to tell him what you obviously needed to. You hadn’t been prepared for this, and the stress had been eating at you all night, making you feel sick to your stomach. You'd hardly been able to eat dinner, having to lie to Emilia about not feeling well when she’d asked if you were alright. You'd put her down to sleep just over an hour ago and all you'd done since was sit on the couch drowning in your thoughts.
“What am I supposed to do here, Harl?” you asked your dog softly. “How am I supposed to tell him this? We barely know each other. Took me five years to even learn his name is Jax, how do I look him in the face and tell him he's got a four year old daughter?”
Harley stared up at you, his dark eyes watching as he listened to you speak. Head falling against the backrest of your couch, you continued to pet him gently, finding a bit of comfort in his presence.
“I don't even have his number,” you mused aloud. “No way to contact him besides showing up at that motorcycle clubhouse by that garage. And I really don't want to do that just to ask him to talk to me. Cause that's weird, right?”
Harley raised his head from your leg at the inflection in your voice, tilting it curiously to the side like he was trying to understand you. You sighed, beginning to scratch behind one of his ears as you let your thoughts freely flow out of you to the only one you could ever really talk to–your dog.
“What if I tell him and he wants nothing to do with her?” you asked him. “It was one thing when I just didn't know how to find him, but to have her dad not even want to know her?”
Your heart ached at the thought. Emilia had been asking questions about her dad starting almost a year ago. You had struggled trying to explain to her that her daddy just wasn't in her life because he didn't know about her and because you had no way to find him. You’d tried to make it a point for her to understand that him not being around wasn’t by choice or because he didn't want her. You'd hate to have to tell her the truth when she was older, that you’d found him and he hadn’t wanted anything to do with her.
“But what if he does want to be in her life?” you continued thinking aloud to your dog, absently petting him as he stared up at you. “What kind of man is he? He's part of a motorcycle club–whatever that even really means. Which was fine for some random one night thing. But as a father?”
Could this man even be a father? What would that even look like with whatever it was that he did for that club? Was his life even safe enough for Emilia to be in it?
“I wasn't anticipating this to happen when we moved to Charming, Harl,” you murmured, blankly staring ahead at the television screen again. “I don't even know how I feel about finding him. For so long it's just been Em and I. We've never really had anyone else. How am I just supposed to let a literal stranger into our life if that's what he wants?”
Sighing, your eyes drifted back down to Harley as he stared back at you. He made a quiet little noise before he dropped his head onto your thigh again. Your hand moved to his back as you lightly patted him.
“You want to tell him for me?” you asked Harley hopefully. “We could trade places for a bit and you can have that conversation for me. Because I'd honestly rather go piss in the backyard as a dog for an afternoon instead of having to look him in the eye and tell him he knocked me up all those years ago and now he has a daughter running around Charming.”
Harley shifted his head on your leg with a soft groan before his eyes slowly closed. A frown pulled at your lips before your attention drifted back to the television. Those same thoughts continued to spiral in your head. You knew you needed to tell Jax everything because the longer you waited, the worse it would be to tell him the truth.
“Figured as much,” you murmured quietly. “Next time I see him, I’ll do it. Whenever I'm not in a complete rush and Em isn't around. I'll just have to spit it out,” you quietly vowed to Harley. “Don't really think there's any other way to do it. He deserves to know, however he ends up reacting to the news. She's his daughter, too.”
You only hoped the opportunity came sooner rather than later so he didn't feel like you'd been trying to hide something from him.
Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 5.3k [Jax Fic Masterlist]
Warnings/tags: 18+; cheating, mutual pining, jealous Jax, sexual tension, no happy ending (unless expanded into a mini-series), Reader smokes
Summary: For two years you'd been dating Ryan, having been together before he'd prospected for the Sons. After he patched in a few months back, your relationship had taken a backseat to the club. Despite him bringing you to the clubhouse as his old lady, Ryan was always distracted by the guys, the alcohol, and occasionally the girls. But you soon found yourself distracted by Jax, the pair of you secretly flirting behind Ryan's back. Though nothing had ever gone further than that–until one night when it does.
a/n: I teased this the other week and said if there was interest, I'd be happy to expand this into a little mini-series that ends happy. So feedback and reblogs are definitely appreciated! I'd like to know if you want more of these two!
“Bullshit you throw better than me, jackass!” Tig disagreed.
Harshly slamming his beer down onto the table beside him, the glass made a sharp clank against the wood. Tig, who was clearly already a few beers deep tonight, stood up from his chair and took two steps towards your boyfriend.
“I kick your ass every damn time we play!” he told him.
“No you fuckin’ don't, man,” Ryan countered with an easy laugh, his arm wrapped around your waist. He gestured the drink in his other hand at Tig as he continued. “You're always so goddamn drunk and distracted by all the tits around here when we play. You rarely win at darts.”
“You're full of shit!” Tig snapped, further growing frustrated. “C'mon. Right now.” He roughly waved a hand between the pair of them, his eyes narrowing. “You and me. We're settling this.”
Raising your beer to your lips, you tipped back the rest of it as your eyes drifted away from the pointless argument beginning between Tig and your boyfriend. While you loved Ryan, you hated when he brought you out to the clubhouse and then got distracted by stupid shit like this. He always felt like he had to prove something to the guys, no matter how meaningless it was, just because he was a newly patched member. Which usually led to him forgetting that he'd brought you with him until he got drunk and needed you to drive him back to his place.
Drinking down the alcohol, your eyes began to travel around the room. Tonight wasn't one of the Sons’ wild and rowdy parties, so it wasn't as crowded or loud in the clubhouse as usual. Juice, Chibs, and Happy were over by the couches talking, a handful of beer bottles they'd made their way through scattered around the tables near them. At a table in the middle of the room, a few guys you recognized from the auto shop sat looking very intent on their conversation; one guy you knew as Jerry spoke animatedly with his hands. A few of the girls that always hung around were gathered at one corner of the bar, shooting suggestive looks to any of the guys who glanced their way.
As your gaze continued scanning the room, you eventually and accidentally caught Jax’s eyes from across the clubhouse. He was leaning his hip against the pool table with his arms crossed over his broad chest, clearly in the middle of a conversation with Bobby and Opie. You assumed all the noise Ryan and Tig were making with their argument had initially drawn his attention over in your direction, but you also knew that wasn't the only reason he was staring at you.
Jax liked you, and he damn well knew that you liked him, too.
Of course you were aware of how inappropriate that was since you were dating Ryan. You'd both been together for two years now, just before he'd started prospecting for the Sons. You loved him–or at least you thought you did until he'd started bringing you out to these parties the past few months after he'd patched in. Then Jax unexpectedly swooped in out of nowhere one night and had you questioning your feelings altogether, making you wonder how much you could love the man standing next to you when your thoughts kept drifting back to someone else.
It didn’t help that ever since Ryan had joined SAMCRO’s charter, his mind had always been elsewhere. There hadn’t been any more date nights, and there certainly weren’t any lazy mornings laying in bed together. He barely had any time for just you, which gradually had you beginning to feel as if you'd become invisible to him. Ryan was always hanging around the clubhouse, leaving you feeling lonely and neglected back at your place most nights. And the times he did bring you with him out here, you barely seemed to exist in his mind. All he cared about was proving himself to the club, as if he somehow hadn’t done that already as a prospect for an entire year.
But Jax? He definitely saw you.
That first night you’d met Jax here, you'd been drawn straight to him. It wasn't just that he was beautiful in a sort of rough and dangerous way that Ryan absolutely didn’t possess, but because you two just got along in a way you never had with someone else. Whenever you both were talking, time always felt like it ceased to exist. One night last week, while Ryan had gotten drunk and argued with Juice over a game of pool, Jax had you smiling and laughing so much that neither of you realized you’d spent the past four hours together sitting at the bar.
But you made it a point to never act on anything with Jax even if you were completely guilty of having an emotional affair with him. You tried to convince yourself that if you never crossed that line past the flirting, you could lie to yourself that what you were doing wasn't that bad. It wasn't like you hadn't caught Ryan flirting with the croweaters multiple times when you'd been here with him, and you could only imagine how much it happened when you weren’t here. Not that his flirting somehow made yours acceptable, you knew that. You just couldn’t seem to help yourself around Jax.
Standing there across the clubhouse, you lowered your empty beer bottle as you continued to hold Jax’s gaze. Your pulse quickened under the weight of his stare, enjoying having his attention on you despite the fact that Ryan's arm was still wrapped around your waist, holding you flush against his side as he continued to argue with Tig about the damn dart game. Ignoring their pointless discussion, you could feel heat creeping up your neck at the sight of Jax’s mouth curling into a faint smirk from the opposite side of the room. Biting your bottom lip, you fought back the grin threatening to break out across your face before faintly shaking your head at him.
He shouldn’t be making eyes at you like this, staring at you so openly in the middle of the clubhouse. Anyone could look over and catch onto the way you were looking at each other. Especially because sometimes the way Jax looked at you? It made it apparent that he was mentally undressing you with his eyes–like right now.
Forcing your attention away from him and back onto Ryan, you felt that heat continuing to creep its way up your neck. You knew it was wrong to be imagining Jax’s fingers sliding up beneath your shirt, wondering what it would be like to have his hands on you tonight. You already had someone. Blinking hard a couple of times, you tried to shove those thoughts from your mind before you leaned in towards Ryan.
“Hey,” you said, attempting to draw his attention away from Tig, “I'm going to grab another beer. You want anything?”
Ryan's gaze briefly flickered from Tig to you, shaking his head. “No, I'm good, babe.”
And then he was back to arguing with Tig as if you weren't right there. With a soft, frustrated sigh, you gave up on thinking he’d pay you any attention until he’d settled this thing with Tig. Placing a kiss on his cheek, you figured you’d go grab yourself another drink and settle in for another boring night watching Ryan get drunk before driving him back to his place. Then, like usual, you’d stay the night and wind up taking care of him and his hangover in the morning. You’d be lucky if the sex was even decent tonight depending how drunk he got.
Turning and heading to the bar disappointed, you noticed one of the newer prospects hanging around near it. When he caught your eye, he grabbed a beer from the fridge beside himself before holding it out towards you.
“Need another?” he asked. “Cause it looks like you do.”
“Yeah,” you replied, accepting the beer from his outstretched hand. Gesturing your head over your shoulder behind you, you added on, “Got a feeling they’ll be at that for a bit.”
The prospect you couldn’t remember the name of nodded, grinning at the pair behind you. “I always see Ryan challenging the guys out here,” he told you. “It’s always something. If it’s not pool it’s darts. Or drinking. Or shooting.”
“Cause he thinks he’s always got something to prove,” you muttered, annoyed.
Bringing the bottle up to your lips, you drank down the cool beer as you leaned against the bar counter. The prospect’s eyes shifted over your shoulder, looking at someone approaching. Without even turning to look, you knew exactly who it was by the way the prospect ducked his head and quietly headed off towards the girls at the far end of the bar. Seconds later, you felt his presence before you even saw him, the hair on the back of your neck prickling just before he sidled up beside you.
He was standing close to you. Far closer than he should’ve been for someone who was just a friend. You could feel the heat of his body radiating off of himself, warming up your entire right side as his arm just barely brushed against your shoulder. But you were always hyper-aware of Jax whenever he was nearby. It was as if your body was incapable of not noticing him on a damn cellular level–like two magnets fighting to just finally connect.
Setting your beer bottle onto the bar counter, right beside his ringed hands that were resting along the surface, you swallowed the alcohol down hard. When you finally looked over at him leaning against the bar next to you, you saw that wide grin on his face and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes like he was genuinely pleased to see you. A sharp pain hit you right in the chest as if he’d just crushed your heart in his fist himself.
While you loved Ryan, you undeniably felt something for Jax Teller. But you also knew the man jumped from girl to girl, tossing them away like used tissues. He wasn't worth throwing your relationship away for, or all the drama and problems it would cause if you did.
“You look good tonight, darlin’,” he complimented in a lazy drawl.
His eyes dipped down, that grin remaining as he scanned over your outfit before his gaze lingered at the low cut of your top. Your traitorous mind conjured up images of Jax’s mouth trailing hot, wet kisses between the open slit in the fabric and your tongue involuntarily darted out, wetting your lips. Jax’s eyes slid back up, his gaze fixed along your now damp lips long enough for you to hear the pounding of your own heart in your ears.
“That shirt new?” he asked, his gaze lowering towards your chest again. “Haven’t seen you in it before.”
Clearing your throat, your eyes flew away from him and safely back onto your beer bottle in front of you. But you couldn’t stop the corner of your lips from pulling up into a smile. Ryan never noticed your clothes, and he barely ever gave you compliments now. You missed feeling seen–something you told yourself was the real reason you liked Jax’s attention.
But you knew that wasn't all of it. You knew there was a lot more to it than that, you just refused to think too hard about it.
“Yeah, it is,” you answered.
Glancing back over at him, you took in the sight of him in his usual jeans and white t-shirt, his leather kutte thrown over the top of it. His blonde hair was styled back in its usual style, the sight of it looking so perfect always tempting you to stick your fingers in it and mess it up, your hands itching to just tug on the blonde strands. His beard had grown in a bit thicker since you’d last seen him, probably from having been too busy this week to deal with it. You liked when it was a little longer, though. Just another thing you wanted to grab on him.
“New shirt for you, too?” you teased him. “Or is it impossible to tell which one is new with all the white t-shirts you own?”
Jax huffed out an amused sound at the jab, his chin dropping down towards his chest as his shoulders shook lightly with quiet laughter. He looked up at you beside himself from the corner of his eye, that smile still drawn over his face. You swore your heart flew into your throat in that moment, time nearly standing still as you held his stare.
He was painfully attractive and fuck did you hate him for it right now. Why couldn't you have met him first?
“You’re lucky I like you,” he told you, a glint in his eyes. He raised his head, tilting it to the side just a bit as that smile lingered on his lips. “Not everyone gets away with making jokes like you do with me, darlin’.”
You shrugged a shoulder playfully back at him, ignoring the way your stomach nervously fluttered at the words ‘I like you’ as if you were fifteen again. That should not have affected you.
“Maybe it’s just because no one else is actually any funny, Teller,” you shot back. “You think of that?”
“Mmm,” he hummed, nodding his head. “You’re right. No one else here knows how to tell a good joke.”
“Might help if they weren’t always drunk,” you quipped.
He bit down on his bottom lip, his smile creeping wider across his handsome face. He shifted against the bar, his leg brushing past your thigh with the movement as he turned to face you more fully.
“Quick with the tongue tonight, aren’t you, darlin’?” he mused, arching a brow back at you.
“With some things, yes,” you told him, the innuendo dripping from your words as you picked your beer back up. “But with other things I prefer to take my time with it.”
You lifted the bottle to your lips, your eyes returning to Jax's as you took a pull off of it. His teasing smile had vanished, his expression now replaced with something else. A look of hunger and something darker burned in his eyes as he watched you drink down your beer, his hand on the counter curling into a fist. While you knew you shouldn’t be saying shit like this to Jax, it wasn’t like he hadn’t said far worse to you before. But it was even more awful with Ryan just at the other end of the clubhouse drinking and throwing darts with Tig while you were standing here flirting with his president, making thinly veiled comments about sucking his dick.
Jax leaned in closer towards you, dropping his voice so only you could hear him. “Why the hell are you still with him?” he asked.
Well that was a first. Usually comments like the one you'd just made were met with similar comments in return. And around and around you both would go until you were wound up and took Ryan home, taking your sexual frustration out on him. Then you'd lay awake feeling guilty about it afterwards.
“Because I care about him,” you answered Jax. “I've made that clear.”
“Yet you say shit like that to me,” he pointed out.
“And you say shit like that to me. And he says shit like that and probably far worse to the girls always hanging around here,” you countered. “Everyone here is always flirting with everyone. Doesn't mean a damn thing.”
Jax leaned back, creating obvious space between you both as his lips thinned along his face. You knew that look he was giving you, you'd seen it a few times before. He was getting pissed–at you.
“So all those times I've spent talking with you didn't mean a damn thing, huh?” he asked, frustration lacing his words as his eyes hardened. “Those hours I've spent sitting in here with you or out having a smoke in the lot? It's all just somethin’ everyone does, is that right?”
Pulling a face, you were caught off guard by how visibly upset he’d become. He knew you and Ryan were together, you'd been introduced as his girlfriend when you'd met him a few months ago. He'd known that the entire time you'd been flirting, that's why you'd both always been discrete about it and why nothing besides that had ever happened.
“What was it supposed to mean, Jax?” you questioned him back, keeping your own voice low to avoid drawing attention. “You know I'm with Ryan. Were you expecting me to just leave the guy I care about to be some hookup for you?”
“Who said anything about just being a hookup?” he shot back, his brows drawing together. “You think I make a habit of just hitting on my brothers’ old ladies for the hell of it? Cause that's the kinda shit that causes problems, darlin’.”
The way he'd shot the pet name out sounded bitter. When he'd come over here a few minutes ago, a fight was the last thing you expected to have with him. You didn't understand why he was getting so pissed at you for still being Ryan's girl. You'd never led him on to think you were going to leave him.
“So what, you expect me to dump Ryan and be your short-lived fling for however long you want me?” you questioned in a harsh whisper, feeling your own temper flaring. “End a serious relationship and stir up shit in the club over me jumping from Ryan to you?”
Jax didn't respond because he knew you were right. You knew how tight these guys were with each other. Jax going behind a brother's back and stealing his old lady, whether he was serious or not about you, would cause tension in the group. Tension that could bleed into club politics and some of their jobs–meaning people could bleed over it, one way or another. And you didn't want to be the cause of that.
“You know that's not going to happen, Jax,” you stated, hating the truth even as you said it. “It's just harmless flirting. That's what it's always been. Nothing more.”
A sharp, bitter scoff fell out of Jax in response before he shook his head at you. The way he was looking at you, like he couldn’t believe your answer, had instantly gotten under your skin. He was the one who'd flirted with you first. He was the one who'd started all of this shit when you'd initially tried to stop it from happening in the first place. You'd repeatedly reminded him that you were with Ryan in the beginning, but he'd always just smirked that smirk of his at you and kept on flirting.
You grabbed your beer from off the bar top before pushing away from it. “I'm going to go have a smoke,” you told him, clearly ending the conversation and whatever this was.
Walking away from him, you headed back over to where Ryan and Tig were focused on a game of darts. They'd gathered the attention from most of the guys and the few girls here tonight with whatever bet they'd made, but you honestly didn't care, and Ryan didn't even notice you as you set your beer down on the table and began digging through your purse. You searched around for your pack of cigarettes and your lighter, ignoring the cheering and playful insults coming from beside you.
Once you'd found what you were looking for, you slipped a single cigarette out of the pack and turned, not sparing the group around the dartboard a second glance as you headed towards the exit. When you passed by Jax still leaning against the bar where you’d left him, you could feel his eyes following your every step, but you didn't spare him a single glance, either. All you wanted was to go outside and clear your head after that odd confrontation with him.
Stepping out into the lot, you noticed it had grown cooler outside than it had been a few hours ago when you'd arrived, the temperature difference noticeable–and it was a welcomed difference after how warm it had been inside. As the door to the clubhouse fell shut behind you, the noise from everyone became blissfully muffled. Without even thinking about it, you turned the nearby corner of the building and made your way as far from where anyone would find you as possible. You just wanted to be alone, left to your thoughts and the guilt steadily filling your gut.
Placing the cigarette between your lips as you walked, you flipped open your lighter and held it to the tip. Inhaling that first drag felt like a wave of relief crashing into you. You pocketed your lighter before leaning against the building once you’d gotten a good distance away from the picnic tables, letting your head drop back against the cool cement as your eyes closed. Reaching a hand up, you pulled the cigarette from between your lips and expelled the smoke, allowing your mind to wander.
You knew you needed to stop flirting with Jax. The problems in your relationship with Ryan were ones you needed to try to resolve, not ones you needed to continue to ignore by focusing on the attention of some other man. Fixing things with Ryan was the right thing to do. And if the issues couldn't be resolved–if Ryan couldn't split his focus between you and the club–then you'd have to figure out what happened next.
But dating Jax? That wasn't a realistic option. Besides the fact that the man didn't date, him dating you after you'd been with Ryan was likely something that would start a fight. Something that could potentially create a rift in their motorcycle club, even if it was just a temporary one. And who knew what damage a rift like that would cause considering what these guys were involved in and how they handled their problems. It wasn't something you wanted on your conscience.
So Jax? He was off limits. Every SAMCRO member was for you. And you needed to stop with the flirting and the fantasies rolling around in your head. You needed to get him out of your head.
“I don't like seeing you with him.”
Eyes flying open, you startled at the unexpected voice, a soft gasp falling out of you. Your head rolled along the cement to find Jax standing a few feet away, half of himself bathed in the light from the floodlight on the side of the clubhouse while the other remained shadowed. Brows furrowing, you felt your pulse quicken at his sudden appearance while you simultaneously struggled to fight back the strange feelings that had surfaced at what he'd just said. You tried to take a steadying breath before you answered, not wanting him to know just how affected you were by him.
“He's my boyfriend, Jax,” you pointed out.
Raising the cigarette back up to your lips, you took another drag from it. But even through the dark, you could see the way his eyes lingered on your mouth.
“Sure as shit doesn't act like it. I think we both know that,” Jax countered sharply, taking a few purposeful steps towards you. “Doesn't even fuckin’ notice what you're doing when you're here. Doesn't notice when you're spending hours lookin’ at me the way you do. And it's not like I haven’t seen him flirting with the girls here, darlin’.”
A bitter, humorless laugh slipped out of you as you shook your head at him, expelling the smoke from your lips. “Yeah,” you shot back sarcastically, “because I'm one to judge him for that, aren't I?”
“There's something here,” Jax continued, ignoring your comment as he gradually closed the distance between you both. “Don't fuckin’ tell me there isn't.”
You fixed Jax with a pointed look as he approached you, though when he stopped barely two feet away, you admittedly were having a difficult time keeping your hands to yourself. There was that pull again–the one that almost felt dangerous.
“It’s just attraction, Jax,” you lied to him, trying to ignore the way his heated stare was making you feel more seen than you had in months. “That's all this is, alright?”
You drew the cigarette back up to your lips for another drag, but Jax’s hand darted out and grabbed the smoke from between your fingers before you could. Mouth falling open in surprise, you watched as he threw it to the pavement, crushing it roughly under his shoe.
“I've never once seen you look at him the way you look at me,” Jax nearly growled. “And he rarely fuckin’ looks at you when I see you both together. He doesn’t even see you.”
Taking another step into your personal space, Jax’s hand reached forward and cupped your cheek. The calluses of his palm scratched against your skin as he turned your face towards his, making it impossible for you to hide from him. It felt like you couldn’t breathe with how close he'd leaned in towards you, his warm breath falling over your parted lips. Losing the ability to form a coherent thought, all you could do was stare helplessly back at him because he had a point. There was something more than just attraction sparking in the air between you both. There always had been.
“Tell me I'm wrong,” he demanded, an edge of desperation in his words. “Go on. Look me in the goddamn eye and tell me I'm fuckin’ wrong. ”
Your tongue slipped out, nervously running over your lips, but you couldn't form the words to say that. His focus shifted back to your mouth, his eyes openly following the movement of your tongue as the corner of his own mouth twitched. You could feel the tension in his body just from the firm hold he had on your cheek, but you couldn't deny what he'd said. Even though you knew you should tell him to stop–aware that this was the exact moment you should've–you couldn't.
Through the dim light, you saw how his eyes slowly drifted back up from your lips to lock on yours, holding your stare. You could feel it, that point of no return. The last chance for you to tell him no. But you didn't stop him before he dove forward, his hand on your cheek roughly pulling your face to him just as his lips crashed down hard over your own.
The second his mouth was on yours the taste of beer and cigarettes and him coated your tongue. Not even thinking about what you were doing, your hands grabbed onto Jax, one clutching his leather kutte while the other tangled into his hair, both of them yanking him into you. A shudder ran up your spine at the soft grunt he made against your mouth.
No one had ever kissed you like this before. You felt like your heart was going to burst straight out of your chest, your mind completely blank to anything else but him. His hand had slid to the back of your head, firmly cradling it in his large palm as he kept your mouth right against his. The hold he had on you–the way he was kissing you–was like he was afraid you'd disappear if he stopped for even one second.
His other hand had been gripping your hip, but you faintly registered the way it slid downwards to your thigh. The heat of his palm seeped through your jeans as Jax lifted your leg, resting it over his hip before he pushed his solid body into yours. Your back pressed into the cool cement of the building behind you, a low moan leaving your mouth when you felt the slight bulge beneath his jeans. Jax swallowed the sound of it down, his mouth still on yours like he was drowning in you.
You were lost in the moment, kissing Jax back just as feverishly as he was kissing you. Your fingers had messed up his perfectly slicked back hair, the strands of it wrapped around them as you held him close. You were gasping for breath in between kisses, growing lightheaded with his assault on your mouth. When his hips rutted into you, his growing erection pressing right against you through your jeans, a filthy moan slipped out of your mouth against his.
Jax’s mouth fell away from yours, his face pressing into the crook of your neck as your head fell back against the building once more, exposing more skin to his mouth. He groaned against you, his hips rolling back into you again as his beard scratched along your skin, the sensation only adding to the heat building inside of you. Eyelids fluttering and breath coming in hard, your mind was slowly starting to come back to you. His lips were on your neck, sucking on the skin above your pulse point, when the reality of what you were doing hit you through the haze of pleasure.
Both of your hands were on his shoulders instantly, lightly pushing back against him. You couldn't do this. You weren't going to fuck him when you were with Ryan, especially not with him just inside the building behind you.
“Jax, stop,” you breathed out. “We can't.”
His mouth immediately released your skin from between his plush lips, his hips moving back just enough so that he was no longer pressed into you. He was breathing hard as he stared at you through the dark, confusion in his eyes as his shoulders rose and fell with his heavy breaths.
“I can't do this to him,” you managed out, voice quiet. “This is wrong.”
Pain flashed behind his blue eyes, but he didn’t speak. His hair was a mess, blonde strands out of place and a few pieces framing his flushed face. He looked so good like this. All you wanted to do was forget the world around you and pull him back into you. You wanted his mouth and his hands back on you. You wanted him inside of you, making you his. You wanted to know what it would be like to let him fuck you.
But that was so fucking wrong.
“We can't be doing this,” you told him, slipping past him. “Not anymore. This is–this has to be the end of it.”
Jax took a step back from you, one hand running across his mouth as he tried to collect his thoughts. You shook your head roughly at him, beginning to back away as you realized how close you’d just come to crossing another line. You didn’t even know where the damn lines were anymore.
“Baby,” Jax began softly, tone pleading. “Don’t–”
“No, Jax,” you stated firmly.
You shook your head again before turning around and hurrying down the lot and back towards the clubhouse. You refused to look behind you–you couldn't. Because you knew you'd break at that hurt look on his face, especially after how that kiss had just told you the truth without either of you needing to say it. A truth you hadn't wanted to acknowledge, one you’d been trying to hide from.
He didn't just want you like some hookup. And you didn’t just like his attention.
But kissing him–especially like that–was crossing a line. It shouldn't have gone that far. This was never supposed to have gone that far.
It was wrong. It was wrong. It was wrong.
So why the fuck did it have to feel so goddamn right?
Now that I've wrapped up Falling Apart & Torn at the Seams, I'm working on two other mini-series ideas for Jax.
I've already started an angsty one that involves the quiet, "good" girl from high school who had a crush on Jax, who he also secretly liked, coming back to Charming. Then I'm still piecing together an idea for a short, smutty little series involving Jax meeting a cam girl. So I have some real fun things coming...
Now that I've wrapped up Falling Apart & Torn at the Seams, I'm working on two other mini-series ideas for Jax.
I've already started an angsty one that involves the quiet, "good" girl from high school who had a crush on Jax, who he also secretly liked, coming back to Charming. Then I'm still piecing together an idea for a short, smutty little series involving Jax meeting a cam girl. So I have some real fun things coming...
Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 3.7k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]
Warnings/tags: 18+; nurse!Reader, canon-divergence (no Abel or Thomas), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, girl dad Jax
a/n: Since y'all devoured the first part and seem incredibly into this series already, I figured I'd give y'all the first real chapter because I've got like six other Jax fic drafts sitting around now! Also, don't be like Ope and drive when you've been drinking. Dividers by the lovely @secretlysamcro.
series tag list: @kmc1989 @secretlysamcro @chloe-skywalker @cindsvibes @aussiefangirl95 @sjester42-blog @danzer8705 @uknowmesstuff @mmarysha @shiggynuggiez @stevie75 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @kaydallas21 @orymgraves @unholycheesesnack @livewaspsblog @leather-n-velvet
Between the loud music and the drunken shouting of everyone over it, the noise mixed with the haze of cigarette smoke lingering in the air made the clubhouse feel suffocating tonight. Throwing back the rest of his beer, Jax couldn't take it anymore. Everything was giving him a damn headache after how long he’d been on the road for the past couple of days, and for some goddamn reason, he didn’t really feel like partying tonight. All he wanted was to drink a few beers and unwind from the long run, oddly not craving the usual wild chaos that came with the club.
“Gonna go have a smoke,” Jax told Opie as he slipped off the bar stool. “Too fuckin’ loud in here.”
“I'll join you, brother,” Opie said. “Need to get back to Lyla and the kids soon, anyway. Been gone all weekend.”
Opie raised his glass to his lips, downing the rest of his drink. Jax nodded at him before turning, heading straight for the clubhouse door. As Jax pushed it open and stepped out into the lot, Opie caught up and followed right behind him out into the cool night.
Unfortunately, the lot outside was just as loud as it had been inside with how many people had come out to the party tonight. Maneuvering his way around friends of the club and a handful of croweaters, all of which were completely wasted by this point, Jax led Opie further away from the few picnic tables the group outside was drinking around. Some of the guys were sitting on the tables and smoking a cigarette, while a couple of the girls looked like they’d already passed out face down on the surface of it from all the booze and who knew what else.
Tonight was supposed to be a night of celebration for the Sons’. They had just returned from a successful run delivering quite a few high end assault rifles to a buyer up near Oregon, and thankfully, they'd completed the run with minimal issues. The only problem they’d encountered was Chibs’ fall from his bike, and that had been due to some asshole just outside of Charming not paying attention to the road and nothing related to club business. Unfortunately for Chibs, that meant he was missing the party tonight while he spent a few days recovering at St. Thomas.
As they walked, Jax’s gaze skimmed over a few of the drunken girls that were stumbling over themselves in the parking lot, unable to refrain from a small grin slipping onto his lips as he eyed all the bits of skin revealed by their short, tight outfits. When one of the girls looked over and caught his eye, he shot her a wink. Behind him, Opie chuckled and shook his head at the way the girl had sent Jax a suggestive look in return.
“Thought you wanted a smoke and to get away from all the damn noise,” Opie commented, still following after Jax. “If you've got other plans for while you're out here, I don't wanna be around for them.”
“Relax, Ope,” Jax replied, leaning against the wall of the clubhouse further away from the group. Slipping his hand into the inside of his kutte, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes. “Not lookin’ for that right now. They're a little too drunk for my liking, anyway. I just like seeing the looks on their faces when I tease ‘em a little.”
He pulled a cigarette out of the pack, slipping it between his lips as he smirked at his best friend. Pocketing the pack back inside of his kutte, Jax pulled out his lighter next. As he flipped it open, raising the flame to the tip of his cigarette, he saw Opie doing the same from the corner of his eye.
“Some things never change,” Opie mumbled around his cigarette.
Taking a drag off his once it was lit, Jax returned the lighter to his kutte before leaning his head back against the clubhouse behind him, blowing the smoke up into the night sky. His ass was killing him from that long ride out to Oregon and back on his bike, especially since they'd only just returned to Charming this afternoon.
“Fucking tired as shit,” Opie muttered beside him. “Can't believe we used to love those long fuckin’ runs when we were younger.”
Jax nodded his head against the cement structure behind him, chuckling as he remembered the early years when he and Ope had just been prospects and then newly patched members. Long runs meant the freedom of the open road and a change of scenery from Charming for a bit. And sometimes, if they weren't that busy or things were running behind, it also meant stopping somewhere for a bit to blow off steam at a bar or crash at a motel once the job was done before they needed to head back. And those nights had always led to some wild stories.
“We were young,” Jax pointed out. “Everything we did with the club felt twenty times more badass back then. Now?” He brought his cigarette back up to his lips, taking another drag from it. Expelling the smoke a moment later, he glanced at Opie beside him, feeling the weight of his own words. “We got more responsibility. Can't just piss around and have fun like we used to.”
“Got that right,” Opie replied. He shot Jax a grin before teasingly adding, “President.”
“Hey, you're the VP now, brother,” Jax reminded him, gesturing his smoke at Opie leaning against the wall beside him. “We ain't those little shitheads we used to be anymore.”
Opie hummed in response, that grin still on his face. “Dunno man, that's debatable when it comes to you.”
Jax’s hand darted out beside him, lightly smacking Opie on the shoulder. “Shut up, smartass,” he playfully shot back.
Despite the drunken shouting from the others that were outside drinking near the picnic tables, the noise carrying on a faint breeze, a comfortable silence settled around both men as they smoked. Jax continued to stare at the night sky above him, lost in thoughts like he often was. He was grateful to be finished with the run, and even more grateful that there hadn’t been any firefights on the ride. He'd expected someone to get pissed about that many Sons riding past their territory, but somehow they’d managed a peaceful trip–which had been unexpected but welcome.
“Somethin’ on your mind?” Opie asked.
“Just shit from the day,” he answered half-heartedly, still staring up at the blackened sky. “Surprised shit went as smooth as it did.”
“Chibs might disagree,” Opie quipped back.
With a roll of his eyes, Jax’s focus shifted away from the sky and back on Opie smoking next to him. He could tell his best friend already had a couple of drinks tonight judging by the wide grin that kept reappearing on his generally stoic face. He’d been about to make a comment in response, but even more noise from the other side of the lot inevitably drew Jax’s attention back over towards the commotion. A handful of women had just stepped out of the clubhouse with Tig and Happy, Jax’s eyes briefly drifting over to the group. That in itself wasn’t that strange of a sight, but just as Jax had begun to look away, his eyes immediately darted back towards them.
Because no, he hadn’t really just seen who he thought he had, had he?
Pushing off the wall, he craned his neck around Opie as his eyes narrowed in an attempt to get a better look, his hand holding his cigarette dropping to his side. There was no fucking way in hell that was you, right?
“What?” Opie asked, concern etched on his face as he turned to follow Jax’s gaze. “What’re you lookin’ at?”
Jax stared across the lot for a bit longer, his eyes fixed on a girl that was half-hidden behind a few other people. He hadn’t realized that he’d been holding his breath until the blonde girl blocking who he thought was you had stumbled backwards. That’s when he got a better view of the woman he’d mistaken for the one he'd thought he'd seen.
Because no, of course that wasn’t you. Why the fuck would you ever just appear at a Sons’ party out of nowhere? You didn’t even live in Charming. At least, not when he'd met you.
“Jax?”
Opie’s voice and his own disappointment had him tearing his eyes away from the woman who absolutely wasn’t the one he’d been hoping to see. With a shake of his head, he turned his back to the group and drew his cigarette up to his lips, taking a particularly deep drag to ease the tension suddenly in his body.
Why the fuck had he been so damn hopeful? How the fuck were you still in his head after all of this time?
“Dude, what the hell is goin’ on with you?” Opie pressed further. “You look like you just saw a goddamn ghost or something. The hell was that?”
“Nothin’,” Jax muttered. “Don’t worry about it.”
Opie scoffed harshly at Jax’s dismissal, his head leaning back against the clubhouse. Jax could feel his best friend’s eyes on the side of his face, but that only made him more determined not to look at him.
“Nah, brother,” Opie countered, clearly not buying it. “That wasn’t nothin’. Who’d you think you just saw? C’mon, tell me.”
His fingers pinched tight around his cigarette at the question. Why the fuck was he getting so frustrated? Why did any of this matter?
“Just a girl,” Jax muttered, still avoiding Opie's eyes. “No one important.”
“Uh huh. I’m calling bullshit,” Opie shot back. “No girl gets you doin’ a damn double take like that. Who the fuck did you think it was, man?”
A long, irritated sigh fell out of Jax, his left hand reaching up and running across his forehead. You were already on his mind again. What the fuck did it really matter if he told Opie about you? It's not like you'd ever see each other again–something he should have already accepted a long fucking time ago.
Shoulders dropping in defeat, Jax stepped back over beside Opie and returned to his place leaning against the wall. He took a deep breath, flicking some ash off the tip of his cigarette as he tried to gather his thoughts.
“Few years back we had a run,” Jax began, still unable to look Opie in the eyes with how goddamn stupid he was about to sound. “Took us out to San Bernardino and the SAMDINO charter. Was a long ass trip because some shit went down while we were out, so we crashed at that shitty motel for the night on our way back.”
Opie nodded slowly as he expelled a trail of smoke from his lips. “Yeah, I remember that,” he mused. “Was a long time ago. That was the night Tig got so wasted we left him outside his motel room passed out. Somehow still woke up the next morning to find him with his face buried in a hooker's pussy.”
An amused snort fell out of Jax at that particular memory. The guys had begun to reassemble in the motel parking lot after a not very restful night, and yet even wasted and locked out of his room, Tig still had managed to get some ass.
“Yeah, that night,” Jax agreed, the smile on his lips slowly fading to something nostalgic as his thoughts shifted back to you. “That was the night I hooked up with some girl.”
“You always hook up with some girl,” Opie pointed out flatly.
Jax frowned as he raised the cigarette to his lips, inhaling the smoke as your face drifted through his mind. It had been five years since that night he’d had with you, and while the image in his mind had eventually grown a bit blurry, he'd never forgotten you. For whatever goddamn reason, you were the one of hundreds who'd stuck with him ever since the night he'd been with you. The only one who’d made him feel something. The one who’s face sometimes surfaced in his mind when he was inside of other girls like you were haunting him.
“Yeah, I do,” Jax said. “But normally I take a girl to bed, get off, and move on. Just a one time thing that means nothing. I never think about them after the fact.”
Opie's head turned, shifting against the wall as he looked over at Jax. His slightly glazed eyes had narrowed marginally in curiosity at him, as if his sluggish mind was struggling to process what Jax was really saying through the alcohol he’d drank.
“Brother,” Opie began slowly, a look of disbelief gradually washing over his features. “Are you telling me you liked this girl? Am I hearing this right?”
Jax shrugged as he took a last drag of his cigarette before dropping it to the pavement and stomping it out. Roughly blowing out the smoke, Jax felt frustrated with himself at the question. He’d often asked himself the same damn thing, but it wasn’t like the answer really mattered at this point.
“I don't fucking know, Ope,” Jax replied. “All I know is, I haven't stopped thinking about her. Been five goddamn years and sometimes I'll just remember her outta nowhere thinking I see her around. Or sometimes I see her face when I’m with another girl. I don’t even know why, it doesn’t make any sense. Never fuckin’ thought about a girl after the fact even once. But her?”
Jax shook his head, his eyes darting past Opie and over towards the rowdy group outside. He found the girl he'd mistaken for you, his frown deepening on his face as he watched her take a deep pull off of her beer. She definitely wasn't you and for some reason that pissed him off even though he knew it was a fucking ridiculous thing to be pissed about.
“You liked her.”
Jax’s attention returned to Opie, noticing how what his best friend had said hadn’t been a question but rather a statement. And maybe he was right, but what the hell did it matter at this point?
“Fuck, maybe,” Jax conceded. “Maybe I did. But I barely fucking knew her. And she lives hours away from Charming–or she did at the time, five goddamn years ago. Don't even remember her name. I just–”
He cut himself off before he could look like a jackass in front of Opie by finishing that thought. He didn't remember your name, but he remembered the way your laugh made his heart swell, and how your lips tasted like vanilla from whatever lip balm you’d put on them. He remembered how soft your hands felt running over his skin when you’d traced his tattoos, and the way you moaned against his neck when you'd came–and you'd came repeatedly while he'd been with you. Jax still remembered how goddamn good you felt when he sunk into you the few times he had that night, your pussy tight and perfect in a way that none of the other girls he’d been with ever felt like. A perfect fit–something that sounded so goddamn stupid even to his own mind.
And he remembered the intense, strange pull he'd felt towards you from the moment his eyes locked on yours at the bar. That odd connection he felt in the way you’d kissed him, the one which had made it difficult for him to slip out of your bed when you'd accidentally fallen asleep after that fourth round of sex. He remembered hating the way he'd gently had to slip out from under your soft, warm, naked body, his eyes fixed on your sleeping form in bed as he quickly dressed himself. He'd carefully covered you in your bed sheets before he'd quietly left your apartment, never to see you again.
“I remember her telling me she didn't do one night stands,” Jax eventually said, finishing his thought. “That she never had before.”
A small smile played across his lips as he remembered all those times you’d leaned over next to him at the bar, clearly buzzed as you whispered to him that you'd never slept with a stranger before. He recalled the way you'd giggled and nodded your head when he’d asked if you were considering it. When you'd agreed to follow him outside while he had a smoke, he’d been pleased to know you were as intrigued by him as he was by you. Then you’d shocked him when you’d been the one to take the cigarette from between his fingers and toss it away before grabbing him and kissing him like you couldn’t hold back any longer.
“Told me that about twenty times,” he added with a chuckle, catching the little grin on Opie's face as he listened to Jax recall the night. “It was cute. She wasn’t like any of the girls that we usually see around here.”
Jax jutted his chin in the direction of the group still drinking by the picnic tables to make his point, a somber look in his eyes. He’d often wondered about you over the years despite how hard he’d tried not to think of you. He wondered if you’d ever thought about him and that night you’d had together.
“Sex that good?” Opie asked curiously, studying the look in Jax’s eyes. “That why she stood out?”
Shaking his head at the question, Jax’s gaze shifted down to his hands, fiddling with one of his rings. “The sex was amazing, Ope,” he admitted before shaking his head. “I mean, fuck, we went at it a few times that night. Couldn’t seem to get enough of each other. But it’s not the only reason why she sometimes crosses my mind.” His tongue slipped out, wetting his lips as he remembered that odd feeling he’d gotten around you whenever you’d smiled at him. “There was just…something about her, y’know? Like I just felt somethin’ with her that I hadn’t really felt with anyone before. Not since…”
A look of understanding crossed Opie’s face as he nodded, clearly catching what had been left unspoken when Jax’s words trailed off. He finished off his own cigarette before tossing it to the pavement, stomping it out beneath his shoe.
“Not since Tara?” he asked.
Jax’s head fell back against the cement of the clubhouse behind him, a familiar ache hitting him in the chest. “Yeah,” he answered quietly. “Not since Tara.”
The sounds of laughter and drunken shouting increased, filling the night air around them. He hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that truth, that there was something about you that had been more than just an urge to scratch an itch that night. You were an unexpected blip in the timeline of Jax’s life–two people who probably never should’ve met but did. And you’d unknowingly left an unexpected vanilla-flavored, citrus-scented mark on his life.
“But it don’t matter anyway,” he muttered bitterly, still staring up at the dark sky. “Never gonna see her again. Kinda the point of just one night with someone. Doubt she’s ever even thought about me since.”
“What makes you say that?” Opie questioned curiously.
“Because I remember her telling me that she’d only gone out that night ‘cause she’d been stressed with her job or somethin’,” Jax told him, his attention shifting over to the row of parked motorcycles across the lot. “Don’t remember much about the why, but I was well aware that she was using me for an escape just as much as I was doing the same with her.”
“Yet here you are,” Opie replied, a teasing grin on his lips, “thinking about the nameless girl with the golden pussy five years later. Who’s to say you haven’t crossed her mind?”
Pushing himself off the wall, Jax scoffed bitterly at the thought. Why the hell would a girl like you ever fucking think about the biker you spent one night with? Why the fuck was he even thinking about you again? The last time you'd crossed his mind had been months ago, and it was only because the girl he’d hooked up with that night had kissed him and tasted like cheap cherry chapstick mixed with alcohol. He’d missed the taste of vanilla and you.
“Doubt it, brother,” Jax bitterly grumbled, mood souring. “She’s just some girl I fucked, doesn’t matter. I’m gonna go grab another beer. You comin’?”
Opie stared at Jax, his slightly bloodshot eyes studying his face like he might say more about you, but he didn’t. Instead he shook his head and pushed off the wall.
“Nah, brother,” he replied. “Gotta get back to Lyla and the kids. Don't wanna leave her on her own longer than I already have this weekend.”
Disappointment filled Jax, but he nodded anyway. He knew Opie had responsibilities of his own, others in his life to worry about. Unlike Jax, who'd intentionally remained single and childless, not wanting to be tied down even if some nights he felt a stifling loneliness.
Like tonight.
“You good to get home?” Jax asked, raising a brow at him. “Maybe you should have a prospect drive you.”
“Only had a couple drinks,” Opie replied, shrugging a shoulder. “Not really feeling the alcohol. Mostly just really fucking tired, man.”
“Yeah, alright,” Jax replied, shoving down all of his previous thoughts. “I'll see you tomorrow, Ope. Get back safe.”
Opie nodded in a way of a goodbye before heading over to the row of motorcycles and climbing onto his bike. Without having much else to do, Jax turned and began walking back towards the clubhouse. He figured he'd have another beer and then crash in his room here tonight. It wasn’t like he had any reason to get back to his empty home instead, there wasn’t anyone waiting for him.
Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 2k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]
Warnings/tags: 18+; nurse!Reader, canon-divergence (no Abel or Thomas), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, girl dad Jax
summary: Jax met you at a bar out near Fresno, California while on a run with the club. Unable to deny the instant attraction, you brought him back to your place for a few hours of the best sex of your life. Almost two months later, you realized you were pregnant with his kid and no way to contact him. Due to your hospital's budget cuts, you end up taking a job at St. Thomas Hospital, bringing both Emilia and yourself to Charming five years later, entirely unaware that the local MC is the one your daughter's father runs–and that out of the hundreds, you were the one he never forgot.
a/n: I'm excited to see so many of y'all were looking forward to this! I honestly didn't expect y'all to want to read about girl dad Jax discovering he's got a daughter. This first part has bits of smut from that night 5 years ago (you'll eventually get more later). Initially was going to post this in a few days but I'm incredibly sick so here you go! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated.
series tag list: @kmc1989 @secretlysamcro @chloe-skywalker @cindsvibes @aussiefangirl95 @sjester42-blog @danzer8705 @uknowmesstuff @mmarysha
Tonight had been anything but what Jax expected.
When he'd locked eyes on you from across the bar earlier this evening, he'd felt an immediate attraction–an instant pull to you. Something he’d never experienced before with the countless women he’d hooked up with over the years. He’d caught you sitting at your table with your friends making eyes at him while sipping on your mixed drink, giving him the same exact look he knew he’d been giving you.
Thirty minutes. That's how long it had taken for you to leave that table and head to the bar alone, ordering yourself another vodka cranberry. When you'd met his gaze from across the room again, Jax didn't hesitate. He'd gotten up from the table with the Sons, clapping Opie on the shoulder and shooting him a smug grin. Jax knew damn well he wouldn’t be back until he’d found some way to have you for the night.
Because SAMCRO wasn't in Charming this weekend. They'd had a run all the way out to San Bernardino, but after a little territory dispute on their way back home, it had gotten far too late to keep riding. Clay had made the call for the group to settle in at a cheap motel near Fresno for the night. So for the next few hours, Jax had been open to finding a different distraction than what he always had in Charming.
And tonight, that had been you.
But what Jax hadn't expected was your sense of humor and the way your adorable laugh easily had a grin spreading over his own lips at the sound. And while you drank down a second vodka cranberry as you both talked at the bar, both of your groups of friends long forgotten from your minds, you'd disarmed him with your charm and the twenty different times you'd leaned over, giggling as you confessed that you weren't the type to ever bring a guy back to your place.
But he'd seen the way you kept eyeing him. He'd noticed the way you reacted to his flirting and the compliments, noticed the way you’d leaned into his touches whenever his fingers brushed over your cheek, your arm, your hip. He knew you'd felt that same attraction that he'd felt from the second he first spotted you.
He was proven right when you'd stepped outside with him. Jax had lit up a cigarette, in need of a smoke almost an hour later just to give his hands something to do to keep himself from taking you against the damn bar counter with how you’d been affecting him. One moment he was joking with you, taking a drag off of his cigarette, and the next, you'd plucked the damn thing from his fingers and thrown it aside. Then you'd grabbed him by the kutte before smashing your mouth onto his until all he could taste was your vanilla lip balm on his tongue.
He'd had you every which way back at your apartment after that, but not before he'd buried his face between your plush thighs. Your fingers had been tangled in his hair, your body writhing on your bed as you whimpered beneath his mouth. When you finally came on his tongue that first time, your hand pulling sharply on his hair as you cried out in pleasure, you'd tasted even sweeter than your lip balm.
Jax had lost count of how many times he'd gotten you to come for him tonight. But fuck if he hadn't quickly found himself loving the way your eyelids fluttered as the most beautiful noises flew past your lips each time that pretty pussy of yours squeezed him relentlessly with every single one of your climaxes.
It was at some point in the middle of him taking you for the third time that he realized it. With his hand wrapped around your throat as he'd pulled your face back towards his, laying on your stomach as his other hand pressed into the mattress to hold himself over the back of you, he ruthlessly fucked you into the bed. The fitted sheet had flown up in one corner long ago with how roughly he’d been driving into you and with how tightly you’d had a hold of it curled in your fists. It was then that realization had come before either of you did again.
A few hours out here with you wouldn’t be enough.
This encounter hadn’t felt like any of the ones he’d had before–and there’d been plenty after Tara had left Charming a few years ago. Because you were the first girl Jax had been with that he’d actually seen. It wasn’t Tara at the forefront of his mind while he was inside of you. He wasn’t hiding your face in a pillow or the sheets trying to imagine he was inside of her like he’d often done in the past with the girls hanging around the clubhouse. He was actively watching you, enjoying the way you looked as you panted and gasped, moaning and whining while he fucked you hard and rough. But before that, he’d taken you slow and soft, the moment feeling oddly intimate and passionate as he’d laid flush over the top of you, not an inch of space between your sweaty bodies as his eyes held yours. And the way you’d buried your face into the crook of his neck, back arching your body into his when you’d come moaning against his skin, had his entire body practically vibrating in sheer pleasure.
Underneath the faint haze of alcohol, he was aware that something more was happening here.
By now he’d fucked you three times already in the past couple of hours, yet here you were, riding him with your head thrown back over your shoulders as you were nearing yet another orgasm, your perfect tits looking even better from his angle beneath you as you bounced along his cock–which was already mostly spent by now. He was close to coming once again himself, his hands gripping your waist as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, his own hips rocking up to meet yours. The sounds you were making had him falling apart so goddamn easily for you.
Jax came yet again soon after, filling you with what little he had left to give by this point. But as he pulled your sweaty, panting body down on top of his, he found himself wishing he didn’t have to leave so soon. He wanted to keep you as close as he could for a little bit longer, his fingers gently brushing back and forth over your shoulder in a way that could almost be considered affectionate.
He found himself being soft with you in between all the sex. Something he didn't understand. Something he didn't do with girls. But you were different. You’d made him feel different–made him feel something for the first time in years. And he’d found himself enjoying the jokes and the conversation between the fucking far more than he thought possible.
But then you’d fallen asleep on him shortly after that fourth time when he’d pulled you down onto him, your body clearly exhausted from the physical exertion. Jax knew he needed to get back to the motel to get some sleep himself before finishing the few hour ride back to Charming tomorrow. He couldn’t just stay here curled up in some random girl’s bed even if a small part of him strangely wanted to do exactly that.
So he did what he knew he was supposed to–he slipped out of your apartment while you were asleep. Made a quiet escape back to his cheap motel room. But he’d tossed and turned in the shitty bed until sunrise knowing he’d never see the girl who’d made him finally feel something again and not understanding why the fuck that mattered at all.
Sitting on the floor of your small bathroom, your head fell back against the vanity cabinet behind you. Both tests had come back positive. There was no denying it now, no writing it off that you just weren’t feeling well or that the stress of work had caused you to be late.
You were pregnant.
Pregnant with the baby of some guy you’d known for only a few hours. Some guy you couldn’t even recall the name of almost two months later–Jared, Jason, Jay? All you could remember was that he’d been painfully handsome, he didn’t live around the area, he was in some sort of motorcycle club that you also could not remember the name of, and that he’d been incredible in the bedroom.
Apparently so incredible that he’d gotten you pregnant.
“Shit,” you whispered to yourself, tears pricking at your eyes again as you stared at the ceiling of your bathroom. “Of course the one fucking time I have a fling with someone–the one goddamn time I let myself have any fun–this is what happens.”
All because you’d been stressed out that night due to your new job at Fresno Community Hospital. They’d been giving you the shitty shifts for months solely because you were the new nurse. Third shift, second shift, doubles. Your schedule had been so damn screwed that when you’d finally had a day off, you’d gone out with your friends to let loose. The second you’d noticed the attractive biker eyeing you from across the bar, you didn’t care about the hint of danger radiating off of him or the fact that you weren’t the type for one night stands. You’d found a new way to deal with your stress–him.
And goddamn had he worked you out that night. You had a feeling you’d found the damn unicorn of one night stands because the way that man had taken care of you–folding you and bending your body in ways you had no idea it could even move–had been mind-numbingly amazing. You’d never met a man with quite so much stamina and determination, and you’d certainly never fucked anyone who damn well knew what the hell they were doing quite like that.
But you’d stupidly told him that you were on the pill, forgoing condoms that neither of you even had in the moment. Except the alcohol clouding your mind had you forgetting the part where you’d been so fucked up with your work schedule that you’d missed a handful of birth control pills that month.
And now here you were facing the consequences of your actions.
Expelling a rough breath, you looked back down at the two tests laying innocently on the floor beside you. Both of them displayed two very pink lines that you couldn't dispute. You’d sat on the floor of your bathroom for almost an hour now, running through a range of feelings–fear, despair, shock, disbelief. Eventually you’d settled on acceptance, because you already knew that you were going to keep this baby. You had no idea how you’d make it work, but you knew you’d figure it out.
But you had no way to contact the father. Not that you figured the man you’d met two months ago would remotely care about you carrying his child, but you didn’t even have a way to reach him. If you could have, you’d at least have given him the news on the off chance it somehow would mean something to him. It wasn’t like you’d ever exchanged phone numbers that night, though, and he’d long since disappeared by the time you’d woken up in your bed the next morning.
But what else had you expected? He’d made it clear to you that he was no stranger to random romps with girls he’d just met even if you weren’t that type yourself. You were just another random hookup in a string of probably countless others for him. You doubted he would even remember your face, and you weren’t even certain you'd given him your name.
And now you’d be forever linked with him and he’d never even know.
“That pretty pussy of yours squeezed him relentlessly”
“Moaning and whining while he fucked you hard and rough”
“And now you’d be forever linked with him and he’d never even know”
Another fucking beautiful piece by my lover @bellaxgiornata Bella, you are tooo bloody good to us Jax girlies, this was so fucking good I cannot wait for more 😍🫶🏽🖤
I ABSOLUTELY HAD TO WITH THAT FIRST LINE! I'd already set it up with how she'd kissed him, and man is just hooked on, as what Opie will call it later, a "golden pussy" 🤣
I'm glad you enjoyed the prologue so much already!! There's more to come with these two (and that little girl Jax has no idea about 🤭).
Couldn’t wait for this and it hasn’t disappointed! Pleasantly surprised by the early publish, Thank you! I love how she is in Jax’s head already. Can’t wait to read what’s in store for them next. I hope you feel better soon
Not after what you both promised last year keep it respectful. Keep your distance.
Don’t confuse grief with whatever the hell’s been happening between you two lately.
But there he is. On your porch. Nikes leaving behind heavy footsteps. Eyes darker than usual. Hair messy like he rode without his helmet and didn’t give a damn.
You stand in the doorway in your tank top and shorts, arms crossed tight over your chest. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Jax doesn’t answer right away. His jaw tightens. You can see it pulse. His eyes drop to your bare thighs, then your face again. “Yeah,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t.”
But he doesn’t leave.
You were Opie’s girl. His wife. His world. And now he’s gone. Two years. And Jax has been there quietly, respectfully, dangerously.
Always one step too close. Always one look too long.
Tonight, he crosses that last step.
“You been drinkin’?” you ask, chin tilted up, already getting that heat in your belly the one only Jax gives you.
“Couple beers,” he says. Then his voice drops, rough as gravel.
“But I didn’t come here for that.”
You back up instinctively, and he follows heavy footed steps slow but deliberate.
He shuts the door behind him, and suddenly the little house feels full of heat. His cologne. His presence. Him.
“You can’t keep doing this,” you whisper. “Runnin’ to me like this. Feelin’ guilty after every club meet.
After every bad decision. I’m not your redemption.”
He steps closer.
“No,” he murmurs. “You’re my punishment.”
Your breath catches.
“Every time I look at you, I see him,” he goes on. “And every time I touch you” he pauses, eyes sweeping over you with that hunger he never hides anymore
“I feel like I’m stealing somethin I got no right to.”
“Then don’t.” Your voice is shaky. Weak. You’re lying.
His hand comes up fingers rough, calloused and brushes the side of your face. Your eyes flutter.
“But I want to,” he says, voice gravel and regret.
And you melt.
You end up on the couch his kutte half off, your tank pulled down, legs crossed over his shoulders while he devours you like he’s starving.
“Still keepin’ her warm for him, huh?” he rasps, dragging his tongue up your neck, making you arch. “Still wearin’ his ring when I make you moan like this?”
You gasp when his fingers sink into you, firm and practiced, curling just right. “You’re sick,” you breathe.
“No,” he growls. “Just in love with my dead brother’s girl.”
You hate how good it feels when he says that. Hate how you clench around his fingers, like your body is agreeing, like your grief’s turned traitor and picked him instead.
When he lifts you onto his lap and sinks into you, it’s slow. Painfully slow. Not out of gentleness out of reverence. Worship. Like he’s asking forgiveness from ghosts as he fucks you like he’s dying.
“Say you hate me,” he murmurs against your throat. “Say this is wrong.”
You claw at his kutte, panting, sobbing his name as he thrusts deeper. “I can’t,” you whisper. “I’ve never been able to.”
Jax’s mouth finds yours, desperate and messy. “Good,” he moans out.
“Because you were his first but you’re my fuckin’ last.”
Warnings/tags: 18+; Fluff, nervous!Reader, slight humor, sexual thoughts, Jax being a smartass
summary: When something goes wrong with your car, you're left bringing it into the only auto shop around Charming–Teller-Morrow Automotive. You're surprised when you run into Jax and he still remembers you from that night at the bar a few weeks ago, but when you enthusiastically refuse his offer to give you a ride home on his bike, he finds your fear of his motorcycle incredibly amusing.
a/n: This is technically a part two for the one shot Five Minutes that I wrote a while back. You don't necessarily need to read it, but it gives backstory on how they met. I could be tempted to write more for these two as well... Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!
Jax Teller one shot tag list: @kmc1989 @fallout-girl219 @steviebbboi @aria725 @bear-ink @secretlysamcro @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @bonnyclydecat @nutellajade @f1samcro @kaydallas21 @nialiuwanderlust @sarraa-26
Teller-Morrow Automotive’s main office was hotter than hell this afternoon. The little desk fan running in the room, rattling softly as it oscillated back and forth, only continued to blow the hot air around in the stuffy space. As you stood there, you could feel a bead of sweat already dripping down the back of your neck, beginning to make a trail beneath the fabric of your shirt while you watched Gemma at her desk. She was focused on filling out the rest of the paperwork for your car that you’d just brought in this afternoon, the sound of her pen scratching across the paper barely audible over the noise of the auto shop attached to the office behind you.
Fingers nervously fidgeting with the keys in your hands, you waited for her to finish with the paperwork as your eyes eventually drifted to the wall behind her head. It was impossible not to notice all of the posters of women posed in bikinis or half-naked and stretched out across motorcycles that were plastered on the wall behind her. Those posters only added to your discomfort, compounding with the heat and the occasional straight lipped looks from the woman you knew was Jax’s mother as she kept side eyeing you.
Shifting awkwardly on your feet as she continued to silently write down a few more things, you glanced over your shoulder. There was a window in the office behind you which overlooked the garage. Inside the auto shop, there were a handful of the mechanics working on various cars, all of them looking even more miserable out there in the heat. You watched their sluggish movements, a couple men wiping at the sweat on their brows with their hands or dirty rags.
Continuing to watch them as they worked, you were thankful that you hadn’t recognized a familiar blonde head out there–though you figured Jax Teller wouldn’t remember you three weeks after that night you'd met him. Even if you had spent a couple of hours with him drinking at Stanley’s, you figured Jax didn't make an effort to remember girls he'd slept with, and he probably made even less of an effort to remember the girls he hadn't slept with.
“You got the keys?” Gemma asked.
Snapping out of your thoughts at the sound of her voice, your head darted away from the garage window as you focused back on her. She was staring at you with that tight-lipped, no-bullshit expression that made you nervous. You wanted to toss them on her desk and run out of the office with how she was staring you dead in the eyes. You’d always heard the woman was intimidating, and even though you’d spotted her shopping in the aisles at the grocery store from time to time, you’d never had her staring straight at you like this before.
“Right, the keys,” you muttered.
You held them out towards her and Gemma took them from your hand, beginning to eye you a little suspiciously with how nervous and jumpy you'd been for the past few minutes. Which was the last thing you needed–for her to take any sort of interest in you. Or for the matriarch of the MC to think you were hiding anything other than some serious social anxiety.
“Guys are swamped today,” she stated flatly as she set your keys on her desk. “Probably won't get to your car today. You can wait outside at one of the tables in case they do, or if you’re waiting for someone to come pick you up. Otherwise, someone’ll give you a call when it's ready.”
The thought of sitting outside in the Sons of Anarchy's parking lot–of sitting right outside where a few Sons had been smoking and drinking when you'd gotten here–was the absolute last thing you wanted to do. Despite the fact that Jax had seemed friendly enough when you'd met him weeks ago, you doubted the rest of the men would be quite so welcoming. You also knew better than to further associate with them.
That night talking to Jax at the bar had been a one time thing. Him and all the others were still dangerous criminals, you knew that. All of Charming knew that. And if you'd somehow ran into the curious and far too charming biker himself while you were here? You weren't too sure how you'd handle that. Because admittedly you'd found yourself gradually beginning to weaken at the few flirtatious comments he'd made to you that night at Stanley’s, but you knew better than to let him get to you. This was certainly not a life that you could ever fit into, and it was one you'd never wanted to fit into.
Besides, you knew about Jax’s reputation with women. Everyone knew how he was with women. Him flirting with you that night? It meant nothing.
“I'll uh, just–just wait for someone to call me when it's done,” you told Gemma, flashing her a strained smile. “I'll come back for it.”
Gemma nodded, giving you a strange look at the tense smile on your face. Desperate to get away from this increasingly uncomfortable situation, you turned and made your way out of her office, pushing open the door and stepping back outside.
The midday sun was brutal as you began making your way along the pavement, keeping your head ducked and your eyes downwards. The last thing you wanted to do was to be noticed here, and hopefully keeping your head down would manage that. You figured that if you moved fast enough, maybe you could slip out of the Sons’ compound without drawing anyone’s unwanted attention.
It wasn't as if you had a far walk back to your place at least–it would only take about fifteen minutes. Honestly at this point, the heat of the day was the least of your worries. The thought of possibly making conversation with Jax again with the way he flashed his charming smile at you sounded much worse. He’d had you feeling some kind of way that night and you absolutely shouldn't have been stupid enough to feel like that.
By the time you'd gotten halfway through the parking lot, your own tongue already felt like it had dried to sandpaper in your mouth. It was just so unbearably hot out today. Reaching a hand up, you wiped the back of it across your forehead, gathering a bit of sweat that had already begun to accumulate.
Continuing to make your swift exit, you kept walking in a rush across the pavement as the sun practically burned your skin. But at the sound of an unexpected voice calling out through the air behind you, booming loud enough to be heard over the noise of the tools from the garage, you immediately halted. Eyes widening, you recognized the voice. Not even seconds later you heard him call out again, and a flood of nervous energy slammed straight into you just like it had that night three weeks ago.
Because Jax was calling your name. Your name. Meaning he not only remembered you, but he’d remembered your name and hadn't just resorted to all those pet names that night because he hadn't been paying attention. You had absolutely no idea what to make of that.
Your dry tongue nervously darted out to wet your even drier lips before you took a deep breath, attempting to mentally prepare yourself for another interaction with him. Slowly, you turned around towards his voice, finding him lazily lounging along one of the picnic tables about fifteen feet away looking smug as hell next to a few empty beer bottles. He was casually leaning his back against the table, his elbows propped up on the surface as both of his legs were spread wide in front of himself. He held a cigarette between two of his fingers, a trail of smoke drifting upwards from the tip of it.
And fuck him for looking so sinfully beautiful just sitting there.
The moment his eyes met yours, his head tilted to the side before a pleased smirk gradually pulled across his lips. He sat there taking you in for a moment longer before he pushed himself off the table, taking a last drag off his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and crushing it beneath his shoe. Knowing there was no way he would let you just scurry away now, you turned on the spot towards him, your nerves only increasing as he started to approach you with that confident gait that had you feeling cornered.
Despite knowing better, you couldn't stop that part of yourself from taking pleasure in the fact that he’d not just recognized you, but he had remembered your name. You, the socially awkward girl he’d only talked to at a bar three weeks ago, not some outgoing girl hanging around his clubhouse that he’d actually slept with.
As he continued sauntering through the lot closer to you, those thoughts from a few weeks ago that you should never ever have had in the first place returned. The ones of him slamming you into your bedroom wall with his mouth on yours, his hands ripping at your clothes before yanking them off. Those thoughts that involved him tossing you onto your bed and fucking you absolutely senseless. Those thoughts you’d spent an entire week trying to get out of your head after you’d met him. But with his eyes locked on yours and each swaggering step he took, you couldn’t stop the images from passing through your mind. Your cheeks heated at the thought of him whispering sheer filth into your ear while he was groaning and grunting above you, burying himself deep inside of you repeatedly.
It didn't help that he had a mischievous glint in his eyes like he damn well knew what you were thinking right now.
“Surprised to see you here, darlin’,” Jax greeted you.
He came to a stop just a few feet in front of you, his eyes surveying you now that he was closer. Somehow, you felt yourself growing even hotter under the weight of his gaze. With extreme effort, you focused on shoving away the filthy thoughts that had been running through your mind just so you didn't embarrass yourself in front of him.
“I had to bring my car in,” you told him, gesturing a thumb behind you towards the garage. “Was making a weird noise. Been having some problems with it all week.”
Jax nodded slowly in understanding, his arms crossing over his chest as he continued to smirk at you. Briefly, your attention flitted down to the muscles of his biceps that were impossible to ignore before your attention lowered to the tattoo on his forearm. You remembered staring at it when you’d been drinking next to him at the bar, curious to know more about it and if he had other tattoos. Of course, you’d been far too nervous to ask. But as you forced your eyes back up to his, you’d caught the way his smirk had grown wider. Because he’d absolutely just caught you checking him out.
“Car givin’ you trouble, huh?” he mused. “Probably won’t be getting it fixed today, sweetheart. When it’s this hot, the guys move slower than fuck.”
“Yeah,” you agreed, your heart beating a little harder in your chest with the way he continued to look at you. “Your mom already said it’d probably be done tomorrow.”
Eyes nervously darting away, your hands awkwardly slipped into the pockets of your shorts. You had no idea what to say, especially because you’d been trying to disappear before Jax could have caught you here on the off chance he somehow remembered you. Now that he had, you weren't sure how to get out of this conversation.
“You still nervous around me, darlin’?” he asked.
Looking up from beneath your lashes at him, you noticed the way he was studying you with his arms still crossed over his chest. Though now his gaze was less salacious and more curious.
“Spent three hours talkin’ to me the other night and now here you are, unable to look me in the eyes,” he pointed out. Jax ran a hand along his scruff in contemplation as he took in the way you stood awkwardly in front of him. “Am I that terrifying to you still? Cause I recall that I had you laughing pretty hard a few times that night. Seemed real relaxed then.”
“I'd also been drinking,” you reminded him.
Your gaze flickered away from him as movement behind the office window across the lot caught your eye. Gemma was standing beside it now, very clearly and shamelessly watching you both from behind the glass as her expression remained firm and unreadable. Tucking your hands deeper into your pockets, your focus darted away from her and back to Jax, now incredibly and uncomfortably aware that you had an audience.
“Oh, so you need alcohol to be able to talk to me?” he teased with a tilt of his head. “Is that it? Do I need to get some booze in you to keep you from runnin’ off on me, darlin’?”
His teasing had you chewing your lip. Truthfully, yes, you probably did need a little liquid courage to be standing here talking to Jax Teller. There was no way you could survive his playful teasing and flirtation without looking like a bumbling idiot in front of him while sober.
But how you appeared to Jax should not matter. Because he was a Son and you’d spent your years in Charming trying to avoid all of them. And that is what you should be doing right now instead of talking to him–avoiding him.
“Ahh, I see,” he said with a nod of his head when you hadn’t answered. “Crawlin’ back into your little introvert cave inside that head of yours, huh? C’mon, darlin’, it’s just me,” he said, that already smooth voice of his dropping into something lower in an effort to calm your nerves. “Still the same guy who bought you a few beers while your friends glared at me from across the bar like I was gonna abduct you.”
Jax leaned forward, his face intentionally getting into your line of sight so you’d have to look at him. His blue eyes met yours again, a hint of amusement on his face.
“And I didn’t, did I?” he stated. “Was a total gentleman the whole time. Not a single abduction or bar fight that night.”
He chuckled as he straightened in front of you, a grin lingering on his lips. Despite your desire to get the hell out of here as quickly as possible, especially knowing Gemma was probably still staring at you both from the office, the next words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them.
“I’m surprised you even remember who I am,” you blurted.
Jax looked taken aback by the comment, his brows furrowing together. His grin gradually faded as he stood there staring at you in something akin to disbelief. Internally, you’d begun mentally berating yourself for not only saying something so stupid that made it sound like you cared if he remembered you, but that you’d said anything at all that would further drag this conversation out. Because you really should be trying to put distance between you and him.
“‘Course I remember you,” he told you. “You stood out in that shithole of a bar, darlin’. And the whole scared little rabbit caught in a snare thing you had goin’ on was definitely not the way women usually react to me.”
“Scared little rabbit?” you repeated slowly.
Jax nodded, that arrogant smirk returning before he jutted his chin at you. “Yeah, you’re the most timid girl I ever met. It’s oddly kinda cute, though. Works for you.”
Brows rising in surprise, you stood there blinking back at him, completely dumbfounded. Cute? He thought your anxiety was cute?
“Don’t gimme that look, sweetheart,” he drawled back. “And don’t go getting all quiet on me again.”
His eyes drifted past you, scanning over the cars in the parking lot. The amused grin on his lips fell away before his gaze returned to you. He was quiet for a long moment, and the way his smirk disappeared as his mood abruptly switched to something serious had you growing uneasy.
“You said you dropped your car off at the garage, right?” he asked, as if he’d just remembered. “You got someone coming to pick you up?”
Clearing your throat awkwardly, you shook your head. “No, I was just…walking home,” you told him, trying to take the clear exit he’d just dropped into your lap. “Which I should probably get back to doing.”
You’d taken two steps away from him before Jax covered the same ground, holding a hand out towards you to stop you. Because of course he was going to drag this out longer–as if your poor nerves could take much more of this interaction.
“Whoa, wait, hang on there,” he said. “It’s hotter than Satan’s ballsack today, sweetheart. You shouldn’t be walking anywhere in this damn heat. Gonna end up in the goddamn hospital with heatstroke.”
Unable to stop yourself, a small, soft laugh fell out of you at his comment. He definitely wasn’t like the guys you were used to having conversations with. You’d forgotten how damn crude he could be. But you couldn’t deny that the genuine concern on his face didn’t feel strangely touching.
“I don’t live that far from downtown,” you assured him. “It’s not a far walk. I’ll be fine, really.”
Your words were met with a firm shake of his head, his expression even more serious than it had been a moment ago. “Let me give you a ride,” he offered. “I’d feel better knowing you got where you were goin’ without dying in this heat.”
The small smile that had been on your lips at his earlier comment completely vanished. You looked over at the row of motorcycles parked in the lot behind him. Nerves twisted in your stomach for an entirely different reason at the sight of them. He wanted to give you a ride home on his bike?
“That’s–that’s nice of you, but really,” you said, your focus still locked on the bikes, “I’m alright. I can walk.”
“Darlin’,” Jax began, “it’s just a ride. I’ll take you straight to wherever you’re going. No funny business. Nothin’ to be worried about, alright? I ain’t gonna hurt you or something.”
Except that wasn’t exactly what had you wanting to dig your heels in when you shook your head.
“Really, it’s fine,” you assured him, your gaze meeting his again. “I’ll be alright walking a few blocks.”
Jax’s eyes narrowed at your continued refusal of a ride, a frown settling onto his face. Focusing back on the row of bikes behind him, you felt your pulse quicken at the intimidating sight of them. You did not want to get on one of those things. They were dangerous–just like the men here who rode them.
A low, rumbling laugh fell out of Jax, the sound breaking through your thoughts. When you looked back at him, you found him grinning at you. Heat once more crept up your neck at the expression on his face–like he’d just figured it out.
“Wait a minute,” he said, amusement dancing in his eyes as he pointed a finger at you. “Sweetheart, are you afraid of my Harley? Is that why you won't accept a damn ride? Cause you're scared to get on the back of my bike?”
Your eyes immediately grew wide in shock at how easily he'd picked up on that. “What? No,” you quickly lied. “No, that’s not–not it. I'm not afraid of motorcycles. It's just–I can walk. It’s not a big deal. And I’m sure you’re busy, I don’t need to be taking up your time for a ride. It’s not like you’re a taxi service or something, you know, just because you’re–”
“Darlin’, take a goddamn breath,” he teased, cutting off your rambling. “And I’m not fuckin’ busy right now. Doing jackshit this afternoon. I can give you a ride. Just wasn’t expecting to meet a girl afraid of me and my goddamn bike.”
He chuckled as he shook his head at you like he couldn’t believe his luck, but somehow the look on his face felt more endearing rather than exasperated with you–not that that quelled your embarrassment. With that cheeky grin drawn wide over his lips and a glint in his blue eyes, he glanced over his shoulder to look at his bike parked beside the others.
“Fuckin’ first for me,” he mused softly, shaking his head.
When he focused back on you, you hated how that grin still spread over his mouth made you feel. Because the sight of it almost had you considering saying yes to letting him take you home on that death trap. How the hell were you expected to say no to a face like his?
“Do you have any idea how many girls have begged to get on the back of my bike?” he asked you seriously. “And now here you are practically begging me not to give you a ride on it. I’m actually having to fuckin’ argue with you about it.”
Before you could stop yourself, the words slipped straight out of you. “Because motorcycles are not safe.”
Jax's teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he tried to fight back his growing entertainment at your continued refusal to get on his motorcycle. His shoulders were lightly shaking with silent laughter as he eyed you, but his silence had you spewing out more words again as your embarrassment only grew.
“There's no seat belts on motorcycles. They don't have a roof, or walls, or a damn floor,” you began to list as Jax continued to struggle with hiding his laughter at your explanation. “You wear a simple damn helmet on your head and that's it. There's not even an airbag. People die on bikes, okay? They're clearly not safe.”
“Darlin’, people die in cars, too,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, but people usually can see a car coming,” you countered. “Bikes are easier to miss and have far less protection.”
Jax glanced away, still fighting back the smile on his face. His tongue slipped out to wet his lips while one of his hands reached up, smoothing down his slicked back hair. Your cheeks felt hot from how incredibly stupid you realized you’d probably just sounded trying to defend your fear of motorcycles to a motorcycle club president.
Still trying to compose himself, Jax looked back at you. “You’re not gonna die on my bike, alright?” he assured you, still grinning. “You said you live a few blocks away. I’ll drive slow. You’ll get home in the same condition you’re in right now, all limbs attached. I promise. But you’re not fuckin’ walking anywhere in this heat.”
You opened your mouth to protest again, but Jax’s expression shifted. Gone was his little grin and quiet laughter from a moment ago as his brows raised, his eyes clearly challenging you to argue with him further. Your mouth closed again, aware you could tell him ‘no’ all you wanted, he wasn't going to let you leave here on your own two feet.
“Yeah, exactly.” He turned and waved a hand, gesturing for you to follow as he started walking to his bike. “C’mon. It’s fuckin’ hot out here.”
With a deep sigh, you realized you would never win this argument. You quietly followed after him, but every step closer to his motorcycle grew that sense of dread in your chest. Jax wasn’t wrong–you were afraid of motorcycles. And sitting on the back of his? That absolutely terrified you for more than one reason.
Jax didn’t even hesitate when you’d reached him. He’d grabbed his extra helmet from the back of his bike before turning around and placing it on your head. That cheeky grin returned when he saw you stiffen, but he didn’t tease you as his hands began to fasten the straps beneath your chin, his calloused fingers occasionally brushing against your skin.
After he’d secured your helmet, Jax grabbed his from where it was hanging off the handlebars of his bike and quickly pulled it on. Then he swung his leg over the motorcycle and sat down like he’d probably done thousands of times before. Turning at the waist, he extended a hand towards you while he gestured his head at the seat behind himself. Your gaze slid over to the space, staring at it in horror as you remained frozen in place.
“It’s not gonna hurt you, darlin’,” he promised. “Now get on the damn bike.”
You stared at the space on his bike behind him, feeling your breath beginning to come in faster. Jax’s outstretched hand waved in a quiet order for you to just take it and get on the bike already. You hesitated for a second longer before awkwardly slipping your hand into his, letting him help guide you onto the bike behind him without losing your balance. Once you’d settled in the seat, he turned around and started the engine. The roar of it beneath you caused you to jump in surprise, your arms tucking up against your chest. You weren’t positive, but you swore you heard Jax laugh.
Looking back over his shoulder at you, a smirk once more spread over his lips. That amused glint had returned to his eyes as they dropped down to your arms pressed against your chest before they met your gaze again. When he spoke, he was loud enough for you to hear him over the rumble of his Harley.
“You’re gonna need to hold onto me instead of sitting there like a scared little bunny rabbit,” he pointed out. “Otherwise you will fall off.”
Eyes widening in horror at the thought, your arms abruptly flew around Jax’s waist without a thought, nearly crushing yourself against his back. Jax began moving the bike backwards out of the line of motorcycles, but you could feel his laughter vibrating against your chest now.
“Didn’t tell you to break my ribs,” he teased over his shoulder. “Now where the fuck am I takin’ you, sweetheart?”
With your heart pounding so hard that you were certain he could feel it against his back, you gave Jax the address to your place despite your better judgement. But when his hand reached back to pat your thigh twice, acknowledging that he’d heard you, you ignored everything inside of yourself that was screaming at you about how this was the opposite of keeping away from the Sons.
You didn’t think about that long, though. Because Jax was pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road, the wind brushing past your face as you clung to his back. When you felt the rumble of laughter from his chest again, your arms tightened even further around his waist.
It's rare, but Jax loves a night where he has nothing to do. Pizza, you & Netflix, it’s all he fucking needs. He LOVES a horror film too. Not any of those new, everything's a joke horror films, I'm talking old school horror. The exorcist, Poltergeist, Childs play, and that's just to list a few of his favourites.
When his boys are around though...That horror shit goes straight out the window. No blood, no demons. Just whatever cartoons they're obsessed with that week blaring through the speakers. And he's right there on the couch with them, laughing along like it's the funniest shit he's ever seen. Tossing popcorn into his mouth, ruffling their hair, doing silly voices, making sure everything is okay.
And when the house is quiet again...When the boys are passed out, tucked in tight and safe in their beds, that's when the mood changes. The glances lasting a little longer. The touches becoming more desperate. Hands brushing hips for no reason, lips against your neck just because. The Netflix screen goes still, flashing that "Are you still watching?" message. And no. You're not. Because Jax is face down deep between your thighs, arms locked around your legs, and the only thing he's watching is your pretty pussy.
❣ Jax Teller & the views of Charming.
Jax loves being on the road. Whether its on his Dyna or in the SUV. He lives for the freedom, the movement, the quite in his head that only a long stretch of road can provide. But one thing a lot of people don't know about him? He loves a night time drive.
I'm talking middle of the night, spontaneous as fuck "Gemma's got the boys...come on darlin" whispered to you as he gently shakes your leg, convincing you to throw on your Uggs and climb into the car with him, still in your pyjamas, messy hair and no makeup.
He'll drive like he has all the time in the world. Windows cracked, one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh. No music sometimes, but if there is, it will probably be something like 'Psycho Killer by Talking heads', playing low in the background. He takes you to his favorite hidden spots in town, the ones with the best views. Places where the streetlights below look like tiny specks of glitter, scattered across the darkness.
And those nights where he's feeling reckless? You'll know it before he even says a word. Just the way he grips the wheel a little tighter, his jaw clenched and that familiar heat in his eyes when he looks your way. Parked somewhere quiet, tucked away from the rest of the world, he'll lean over to you and murmur "Come on sweetheart...gimme a lil head" like its nothing, like he's starving.
And those nights he's really worked up, forget the front seat, he's pulling you into the back, or bending you over the hood, whatever he can get away with. Doesn't care where, doesn't care how. As long as he's having you. As long as he's fucking you hard enough that those little town lights outside start to blur and distort. The glittering little flecks stretching into long trembling light streaks.
❣ Jax Teller & the man flu.
Jax Teller, the man who has and will kill in cold blood. The one who would do ANYTHING to protect his family and his brothers. The same man who treats actual gunfights like a chess match. Catch him with a cold? Yeah...absolute fucking baby. Jax with a cold is fucking insufferable, but in the most adorable way.
One blocked nostril and suddenly he's acting like he's been shot in the chest, And he does that disgusting thing too. That horrible fucking noise he makes when he's trying to itch his throat from the inside.
And when he's feeling like this...he doesn't want to be left alone. He'll follow you from room to room, slumping dramatically on the bed, the floor, the coach. Anywhere like he's clinging to life, complimented with a soppy "Stop leavin' me darlin' I cant breathe".
He's fucking needy when he's sick. Like 'Touch starved' is his actual diagnosis. Clingy and constantly reaching for you, He falls asleep with his head on your chest, your hand in his hair or your leg slung over his like your shielding him from death itself, and god forbid you move, he'll groan like you just unplugged his fucking life support.
And still, he'll fucking try it. "Jax! no! I don't wanna catch anything!" you'll swat him away playfully as he pouts like a child, dramatic as fuck muttering something along the lines of "Really y/n? I'm on my deathbed and I can't even get a lil somethin'?"
❣ Jax Teller & your spicy book reaction.
Jax knows you love to read. You've always got your head in a book, eyes glued to your kindle, whatever your preferred method. You're always reading. He doesn't usually ask what it's about, not because he doesn't care, but because its your thing. Your time. It's how you unwind and how you switch off from the chaos. So when he sees you curled up, completely engrossed, thighs clenched and lips parted just slightly, he doesn't ever question it. He just lets you be.
Until the night you leave your book out. Right there in the open, no locked screen, not faced down. Just porn on paper, glowing under the kitchen light. Something about throbbing cocks and soaked panties. He picks it up, eyes scanning the pages with a slow devilish grin spreading across his face as he reads your filthy little secret like its the best thing he's seen.
When you walk back in and see him holding it, he doesn't even hide it, doesn't move an inch.
"This why you're always so quiet when you read? you readin' porn babe?" he whines, clearly enjoying himself way too much.
And from that moment on, he teases you relentlessly. Whispering lines from the book in your ear when you least expect it. Mocking the over the top language in that smug, cocky tone of his. Pulling you into his lap like "So what did your lil lover boy do next? Bet he didn't do this..." right before he slides his hand between your thighs.
But deep down? he loves the fact that you read shit like that. He's not jealous, not threatened. If anything, he sees it as a challenge. Because now Jax Teller wants to compete with your lil book boyfriend.
Warnings/tags: 18+; nurse!Reader, canon-divergence (no Abel or Thomas), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, girl dad Jax
Jax met you at a bar out near Fresno, California while on a run with the club. Unable to deny the instant attraction, you brought him back to your place for a few hours of the best sex of your life. Almost two months later, you realized you were pregnant with his kid and no way to contact him. Due to your hospital's budget cuts, you end up taking a job at St. Thomas Hospital, bringing both Emilia and yourself to Charming five years later, entirely unaware that the local MC is the one your daughter's father runs–and that out of the hundreds, you were the one he never forgot.
Just a lil something I’m playing around with 🖤
(Absolute spoilers - these are set as an AU season 7)
I always picture my fics as actual episodes in my head, so why not write them that way hehe. Something different, kinda cool I guess.
These ‘episodes’ will still be Jax x Reader (with limited appearance descriptions so everyone can feel connected within the role)
It’s not canon, it’s not professional I’m literally running on vibes & my SOA obsessed imagination. (Also you all know me, I’m a visual babe so there will be some pics/gifs scattered through, not so script like but who cares)
TW: Explicit language, threatening language, drugs use, guns, violence, smut, murder, basically anything that you’d see in an actual episode lol.
Script key:
EXT. - Exterior. Outside locations.
INT. - Interior. Inside locations.
EXT. / INT. - Exterior & Interior. Mixed locations.
SFX - Sound effects.
^just because I had no fucking idea before writing this lol.
SCRIPTED EPISODES MASTERLIST:
EPISODE ONE
Opening Scene / Trailer (Posting tomos)
Rest of episode (Coming soon)
Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 5.5k [Part one] [Jax Fic Masterlist]
Warnings/tags: 18+; nurse!Reader, angst with an eventual happy ending, pining, emotional hurt/delayed comfort, Tara is an ass, Reader smokes, Reader has a brother (nameless/description-less to be inclusive as possible)
a/n: The final part to this angsty short fic that y'all have been waiting for. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!
Jax Teller One Shot Tag List: @kmc1989 @secretlysamcro @bonnyclydecat @steviebbboi @bear-ink @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @nutellajade @aria725 @f1samcro
Admittedly, you were already a few beers in tonight. The alcohol had given you just enough of a buzz so that you could relax this evening–something you desperately needed after the awful week you’d had. As you leaned against the side of the bar, the cool brick against your back helping to fight off the heat of the night, you took a drag from the cigarette between your fingers. Inhaling the smoke, your eyes drifted towards the attractive guy leaning along the building beside you. You watched as his own lips wrapped around his cigarette before he shot you a wink.
You’d met him tonight while you’d been out drinking with your friends. Granted, you could not remember his name right now, but you figured that was less to do with your slight buzz and more to do with the fact that he wasn’t who you wished was paying attention to you tonight. But that was fine–or so you told yourself. He was funny and he was hot and he wasn’t avoiding you. You weren’t sure how far you were considering taking this with him tonight, but for now, you were enjoying the attention.
Attention you used to get ‘platonically’ from Jax.
Ever since that run-in with him at the hospital earlier this week, you hadn’t heard a single thing from him. Not a call or a text. No apology for the way he'd gone off on you. So you’d been avoiding the clubhouse even though your brother had asked you to come out for drinks a few times throughout the week. But you couldn’t bring yourself to go there, not after the way Jax had spoken to you in the hospital hallway. Not after how you’d seen him bringing her coffee.
No. If he was going to push you away and choose to take Tara back after those eleven years she'd disappeared on him, then you were going to cut him clean out of your life. You couldn’t just be his friend and watch him with her, especially not after the way she’d been speaking to you ever since she’d found out how close you and Jax were. Him being with Tara was a vastly different thing than him taking some random girl to bed when he was drunk just to get off. If he had actual feelings for someone else, being a spectator to that would feel like physical torture.
Torture you weren't interested in subjecting yourself to.
“So what’re you doin’ after this?” No Name asked, resting his head against the brick as he watched you. “Anything in mind?”
The corner of your lips curved upwards into a smirk as you drew your cigarette back to your lips, taking a long drag off of it. Focusing your attention back on No Name, you tried to stop comparing and contrasting the differences of his features to Jax’s. Though you definitely hadn't drank enough to ignore the faintest twinge of something in your gut that kept trying to tell you that you didn’t quite want this guy.
“I don’t know yet,” you answered, expelling the smoke from your cigarette away from the pair of you. “Only planned to come out drinking with my friends. Hadn’t figured out if there was an…after.”
“You want there to be?” he asked.
Your eyes scanned over the attractive features of his face, taking in the faint grin on his lips. Gradually your eyes drifted downwards, openly and shamelessly scanning over the rest of him. He was broad with a bit of muscle, and he looked like he could be fun for a bit. But truthfully you couldn't shake that lingering feeling in your gut. The one telling you ‘no.’
“I don't know, maybe,” you answered.
As you drew your cigarette back up to your lips, the silence of the night was abruptly broken by the approaching rumble of a motorcycle. A jolt of something hit you at the sound before you shook it off. It could have been any of the Sons making their way through downtown right now. It wasn’t necessarily Jax.
“So there's a chance I could turn that into a yes?” No Name asked, still grinning as he leaned a bit closer to you. “Maybe have your evening plans for after involving me?”
His hand reached out as he gently brushed his fingers over your shoulder. There was nothing subtle in the way he was looking at you right now. You knew damn well what he wanted.
Expelling a trail of smoke, you shifted your head from side to side as if you were considering what he'd asked. “I mean, there's a–”
You'd been tapping the ash off the end of your cigarette when you caught sight of the motorcycle making its way through downtown Charming suddenly taking a sharp U-turn. As the bike swung around on the street, making its way back towards the bar you were standing outside, you caught No Name beside you finally noticing it. He muttered under his breath as you squinted, trying to figure out who it was.
You soon realized that it was in fact Jax.
He pulled his bike up to the curb, half-heartedly parking it in the space before he cut the engine. As his hands began to undo the buckle of his helmet, his eyes shifted from you to No Name leaning against the building next to you. You caught the way they narrowed before he dismounted his bike, roughly slamming his helmet onto the seat before he turned and closed the distance between you.
“Haven’t seen you all week,” he said, eyes locked on you.
Raising a brow back at him, your head tilted to the side. “Yeah? Well I thought you made it pretty clear the other day who you wanted to spend your time with,” you sassed back. “Surprised you even noticed my absence.”
Jax’s lips thinned along his face at your tone. You didn’t talk to him like that. You never had before. But in fairness, he didn’t yell at you like he’d done the other day at the hospital, either. And right now, you were still pissed and hurt over that.
“That’s not even remotely what the fuck happened,” he shot back. “You’re not exactly bein’ fair here, darlin’.”
“Do you really want to talk to me about fair right now, Jackson?” you questioned him, gaze hardening as your own anger returned. “Because I’m going to go ahead and say the way you’ve been treating me for the past month hasn’t exactly been fair.”
He nodded his head bitterly as your words hung in the air, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. This was teetering on the edge of becoming an explosive fight, you could just feel it from the way he was already visibly growing tense–and a fight was something the pair of you had never had before. But if he was going to choose to be with Tara and you were going to be tossed to the side like your friendship had meant so little, then you’d sure as shit get everything off of your chest.
“So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” he asked, voice dropping lower.
“Dude,” No Name said, cutting in as he pushed off the wall beside you, his attention on Jax, “why don’t you leave the lady alone, yeah? She’s–”
“Shut the fuck up, dipshit,” Jax snapped, his head darting over towards the guy so fast that No Name froze in place. “Nobody fuckin’ asked for your opinion. Better yet?” He gestured his head towards the bar. “Get the fuck back inside. Nobody fuckin’ needs your ass here.”
You grit your teeth together at his sharp dismissal of the guy you’d been considering sleeping with tonight, but you didn’t ask No Name to stay. Something he was clearly waiting for as he glanced back over at you. But when you remained quiet, he muttered something under his breath before he tossed his cigarette to the ground, his voice so quiet that you hadn’t caught what he’d said.
But apparently Jax had.
“The fuck did you just say about her?” he asked, the words cold and even as he took a step closer to No Name. “You wanna say that a little louder?”
No Name visibly recoiled from Jax, fear passing over his face as his eyes dropped down towards Jax’s kutte. Everyone in Charming knew better than to fuck with a Son.
“That’s what I thought, dipshit,” Jax spat, gesturing his head at the bar once more. “Now fuck off.”
No Name didn’t waste any time, ducking his head and slipping past the pair of you as he headed back towards the bar. You took another drag of your cigarette, your eyes still narrowed into a glare at Jax when he shifted his attention from the guy back to you. Even if he had just defended you from whatever that guy had just said, you were still pissed at him. That hadn’t changed.
“Well, at least I can say I never cockblocked you,” you pointed out bitterly. “So thanks for that.”
“You seriously gonna pull that shit right now?” he asked sharply. “Cause that ain’t you, darlin’.”
Tossing your own cigarette to the ground, you stamped it out beneath your shoe as you held his gaze. While you might not have actually slept with that guy tonight, having his attention for a bit had been nice. It had felt good. And Jax had gone and ruined that, too.
“What do you want, Jax?” you asked.“Why’d you decide to finally grace me with your presence tonight?”
He pulled a face at the comment, his jaw tensing. “Can you cut the shitty attitude already? I saw you out here and figured we should talk.”
“You’ve ignored me for a month and now you want to talk?” you countered in disbelief.
That did it. You saw something in him snap just before he did.
“Dammit, would you stop with the bullshit already?!” he yelled at you, finally losing his temper. “Do you have any goddamn idea what this past month has been like for me?”
A humorless laugh fell out of you at his question. He’d ignored you for a month and yet now he was going to make this entirely about himself? He wanted sympathy when he’d ignored you for weeks on end?
“Are you serious, Jax?” you retorted, your own anger surfacing. “I’ve barely heard from you! You haven’t been answering my fucking calls or texts for weeks. You’re always showing up at the hospital for Tara. Bringing her coffee like you used to bring me and sitting in her fancy fucking office while you barely said two words to me in the halls. My own best friend can’t even bother to acknowledge that I exist anymore.”
“You think that’s what’s actually been happening?!” he roared back, taking a step towards you. “You really think I'm over here choosing her over you? Is that really the stupid bullshit you’ve been thinking this whole fucking time?”
There was a wild look in his eyes as he held your stare, his shoulders rising and falling with his heavy breaths. Your own narrowed gaze held his unflinchingly, catching the way his nostrils flared with each of his rough exhales.
“Tara came back to Charming,” you began, your voice lowering to a steady but no less hurt tone, “and you bailed on me the first chance you got. And not only that, but you blamed me for starting shit with her the other day. Blew up on me about her without even listening to what I had to say.”
A sharp breath passed between his lips like a hiss before Jax took a step back from you, one of his ringed hands running across his mouth in frustration. He fell oddly quiet for a long moment, just standing there in the harsh light of the streetlight overhead. Your narrowed eyes continued to watch him, not sure what to make of his abrupt silence instead of the usual shouting you’d always witnessed when he was pissed.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, finally breaking the tense silence. His eyes shifted back towards you, a faint crease between his brows and something heavy in his gaze. “I shouldn’t have acted like that the other day, you're right. You're completely fucking right. And I shouldn’t have been ignoring you for weeks, either, darlin’. You didn’t deserve that. But it…”
He trailed off, his lips tightening into a thin line along his face as he shook his head. Standing there, you were taken off guard by his sudden shift in mood. Gone was the furious Jax, replaced by one who looked uncertain and a little lost. A Jax you hadn't quite seen like this before.
“That’s not what was happening,” he continued quietly, a pained expression twisting at his features as his gaze held yours. “Darlin’, I was pushing everyone away when Tara came back. If it wasn’t club business, I wasn’t hanging out with anyone. Not with Opie, not with your brother, not with you. No one. Because when Tara suddenly reappeared it just–just fucked with my head, alright?”
Jax had never been this honest and forthright with his feelings before, and certainly not when it came to the topic of Tara. This was a vulnerable side of himself that he’d never even fully shown you before, and it had come out of absolutely nowhere tonight. You weren’t sure what to do with it, but your own anger was beginning to lessen as you listened to him.
“You gotta understand something,” he continued, that pained look still on his face. “That shit with Tara in the past? It was toxic. That kinda shit where I had to be with her or it felt like I was fucking drowning. It was awful.”
He paused, inhaling a deep breath as if he was struggling to get all of this out. And he probably was because he'd clearly never told anyone this before. So you remained patient, waiting for him to continue.
“Then she just shows back up in Charming one day eleven years after she walked out on me,” Jax told you, voice so quiet that you had to strain to hear him over the muffled music from the bar. “Just walks back into my life wanting to catch up like nothing fucking happened. And how was I supposed to react? I was fucking confused. Half of me wanted to scream at her, tell her everything I’d been holding inside for eleven fucking years, but the other half of me was just…completely goddamn thrown off balance.” He took a step towards you, that pained look in his eyes turning almost pleading. “But darlin’, I fucking swear to you I wasn’t trying to push you out. I was just tryin’ to make sense of all the goddamn noise in my head for weeks now.”
You hesitated, letting his words settle over you as you studied his expression. He looked so painfully sincere right now and it tugged at something inside of you.
“Tara told me that you two were going to get back together,” you replied quietly, an ache in your chest at the memory. “She made that pretty damn clear whenever she’d corner me in the hallways at the hospital. And considering how much time you’d been spending with her, that definitely seemed like what you were doing, Jax.”
He shook his head again, the gesture sharp and firm before he took another step closer to you. With barely half a foot between you both, you could practically feel the way his blue eyes were burning into yours.
“Darlin’, I was trying to make sense of something this whole fucking time,” he told you earnestly. “At first I thought it had to do with what the hell I was feeling about Tara coming back, so yeah,” he admitted. “I was talkin’ to her. To see what the fuck she wanted. To get some fuckin’ closure with how shit ended. But the more time I spent around her, the more pissed off I got.” His tongue slipped out, wetting his lips in frustration as he paused. “Took me weeks to realize that I was focusin’ on the wrong goddamn thing this whole goddamn time.”
Head tilting slowly to the side, you carefully studied the way he was looking at you, one of his hands running through his shaggy hair. You’d never seen Jax look at you with quite this much raw emotion in his eyes before–like something more was sitting right there behind them. It had the rest of your anger slowly dissipating as you held his gaze, his explanation of the past few weeks gradually beginning to make more sense.
“Then what was it?” you asked carefully. “The thing you were supposed to be focusing on?”
Jax's hand left its place combing his hair and reached out, crossing the small space between you both and surprising you when his warm palm landed gently along your cheek. The touch was soft and tender. A touch with more affection than you'd both ever shared in the past, and it had your pulse racing.
“You,” he answered. “Every time I was tryin’ to make sense of the fucking mess in my head when I was with her,” he continued, his eyes searching yours as if he was looking for something while he spoke, “I thought it was because of my past with her. Because of the way shit was left. But it wasn’t. The mess in my head was because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And I’m not great with feelings, darlin’, so I’ll admit it took me far too fucking long to figure out why.”
Eyes widening at his completely unexpected admission, your mind was rushing to try and fill in the gaps from these past few weeks. He'd understandably been caught off guard by Tara's return to Charming–no one had seen that coming. And you'd admittedly been so focused on how hurt you were these past few weeks with him ignoring you that you hadn’t even noticed how he'd been ignoring everyone else, too. It hadn’t been something intentionally targeted at you like you’d thought this whole time. He’d just been confused and overwhelmed.
And apparently her return had him realizing there was something between you both this whole time.
“Nothin’ happened with Tara,” he assured you. “We just talked, that’s it.” There was a soft, almost apologetic smile that pulled at his lips as he stood there, his hand still lightly resting against your cheek. “And they were usually really fuckin’ irritating conversations, babe. Ones that left me more pissed than when I’d first shown up.”
It was hard to keep up with what he was telling you tonight, the bit of alcohol you’d drank making your brain struggle to process everything. Before you could stop yourself, your mind locked onto something from the other day again and the words flew right past your lips.
“But you brought her coffee,” you blurted, as if that somehow meant something.
Jax sighed, his expression falling as he nodded. “Yeah, I did. Cause she asked me to,” he replied. “I didn't think it was that big of a deal until I saw the look on your face the other day, though. Guess that…was kinda our thing, huh?”
Brows furrowing together at his words, something hit you in that moment at his explanation. She’d asked him to bring her coffee. Had that been some intentional shit she’d done to mess with your head? Because the other nurses had told her how Jax used to bring you coffee when he visited all the time. Was she really that fucking petty and vindictive?
“And I shouldn't have snapped at you the other day,” he continued softly. “I got no excuse for that. I was pissed at myself and it came out on you.” That small, apologetic smile tugged wider across his lips, turning a bit sheepish and guilty. “Sometimes I'm a jackass.”
A soft, amused breath passed between your lips at his words, the sound causing his smile to grow a little wider as his thumb traced over your cheek. He definitely had the ability to be a jackass, but usually it was reserved for anyone but you.
“I'm sorry,” he repeated. “I wanted to apologize in person, but you stopped coming by the clubhouse afterwards. Which is another lame fuckin’ excuse, I know, but my ass kept talking myself outta stopping by your place the more time passed. So like a goddamn idiot, I didn’t. But when I saw you out here tonight with that guy–” He broke off, a flash of anger passing in his eyes before it dissipated. “I knew I had to own up to my shit. Be honest with you ‘bout everything.”
Inhaling a deep, trembling breath, you stood there trying to let everything he’d just dropped on you sink in. He hadn’t been intentionally ignoring you specifically, he’d been ignoring everyone these past few weeks. Which, though shitty, made sense when you thought about it. Jax had never dated anyone besides Tara, and she’d shattered his heart. To have her suddenly reappear in his life after eleven years again? It would’ve been unrealistic to think he wouldn’t have a reaction to that.
But then he’d told you that nothing had happened with Tara. All this time, with everything she’d been saying and doing while you’d ran into her at St. Thomas, it had just been her trying to push you away from Jax. Now he was telling you that he didn’t want her, either. Because it seemed like he wanted you. Something you’d been hoping for years to have happen–for Jax to return your feelings.
“What are you trying to say?” you asked carefully.
Jax took another step towards you, leaving barely any space between you both. Tilting your face closer to his, his warm breath fell over your lips, the sensation somewhat dizzying.
“I want you,” he murmured, thumb still tenderly brushing your cheek. “I want you to be mine. My girl. Like you should've fuckin’ been a long time ago.”
His words had you briefly forgetting to breathe as your eyes remained fixed on his. Without even realizing it, you leaned in closer towards him, barely refraining from just closing that small gap between you both and kissing him like you’d spent far too long thinking about.
“You want something serious?” you asked, barely above a whisper.
“With you,” he confirmed, lowering his forehead to yours. “Yeah. That's what I want.”
Standing there with his forehead pressed against yours, the pain of the past few weeks gradually melted away. All of those times he’d spent waiting for Tara outside of the hospital, those days passing without hearing from him, the confusion of what was going on–it all made sense now.
And like hell if you were going to let the chance you'd always wanted with him slip between your fingers.
Not giving yourself a second to question it, you abruptly closed the remaining distance between you both, crashing your lips onto his. Your hands instinctively flew forward, roughly grabbing at his kutte and tugging him into you as you kissed him with everything you'd been holding back for three years.
Jax didn't hesitate to return the kiss, his own mouth frantically moving against yours like he'd finally found the thing he'd been missing all along. His hand gripped your face tighter in his hold as his other grabbed your hip, pushing you backwards. Your back slammed harshly into the brick of the bar behind you, a soft gasp falling out of your mouth and straight into his.
But you didn't care. You didn't care about anything right now other than one thing–that Jax was finally yours.
Sitting at the clubhouse bar, you absently scrolled through your phone to pass the time. Beside you sat the beer you'd been nursing for the past ten minutes. Jax, your brother, and a few of the other guys had disappeared into the chapel with Clay for an unexpected meeting shortly after you’d arrived, so you were entertaining yourself while you waited for them to finish up.
The past few days since Jax and you had become an official thing had been better than you could've ever imagined. Things had gone back to how they used to be between you both, but this time with vastly more satisfying improvements to your relationship.
Jax didn't even look at any of the croweaters. Ever since that night a few days ago when he'd told you how he felt, he hadn’t paid them a single ounce of attention. And now that you didn't have to hold back around Jax anymore, you kissed him whenever the hell you wanted, and you'd stopped trying to keep your hands to yourself. But that wasn't just you–Jax’s hands were always on you now. The pair of you had barely spent any time coming up for air with all the sex you'd been having, trying to make up for three years of lost time.
Your brother had even given Jax a firm talk the other night. It had been hilarious as hell to watch considering Jax was his VP, especially as Jax stood there nodding with a little grin on his face, shooting periodic winks at you over his shoulder. But your brother already had an idea that something was going on between you both for a long time now, so he wasn't too threatening in his brotherly speech.
Everything had felt like it was finally falling into place, as if things were finally how they were supposed to be now–except for the fact that Tara was still in Charming. Since Jax had been so focused on you the past few days, he hadn't spoken to her at all, which meant that she had no idea the pair of you were officially together now.
Which was probably why you saw her walking through the clubhouse doors tonight as your attention fell away from your phone. The main room was practically empty with the guys back in the chapel, so Tara's eyes immediately found you sitting at the bar. A look of disgust spread over her features as her eyes narrowed, her strides purposefully bringing her over to where you were sitting.
“Thought I already told you to stay the hell away from Jax?” she snapped.
Tara crowded into your space as you sat on the barstool, a frustrated sigh falling out of you. Reluctantly, you focused your attention on her. Even though you'd been looking forward to rubbing it in her face that she wasn't the one he’d wanted after that comment she'd made to you over a week ago saying the exact same thing, you still didn't feel like dealing with her.
“Yeah, you did,” you agreed, turning on the stool more towards her as you casually leaned an arm against the bar. “But he's not exactly yours to be making demands like that about.”
Tara's eyes narrowed even further as she fixed you with that icy glare. “He will always be mine,” she countered. “You're just too damn stupid to see it. You will never have what Jax and I do.”
Unable to stop yourself, a small laugh slipped out of you. She thought you were the one too stupid to see what was going on?
“Right,” you said with a nod, a smile tugging at your lips that had her expression faltering. “So how’ve things between you both been the past few days?”
“They're good,” she retorted. “Not that things between us are any of your business.”
“Oh, is that right?” you asked her, raising a brow. “You two been spending a lot of time together the past few days then?”
Her lips pulled into a straight line at the comment, her glare growing even darker. It looked like she wanted to hit you, and part of you wished she would try just so that you could have an excuse to knock her on her ass right here and now.
The door to the chapel behind you opened before she could answer your question, and Tara's attention shifted away from you. You continued to watch her, still comfortably leaning against the bar despite the way her finger jabbed in your direction when she presumably spotted Jax leaving the room behind you.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” she snarled at him.
“That's enough, Tara.”
Picking up your beer from off the bar counter, you grinned back at her as you heard Jax’s already annoyed tone coming from behind you. Eyes on her as if you wanted to permanently remember this moment, you took a pull from your beer. Soon after, you felt the familiar weight of Jax’s arm resting along your shoulder as he appeared at your side, and you leaned in towards him.
A mix of emotions played across Tara's face at the sudden closeness between Jax and you. His arm thrown along your shoulders was a clear physical sign, one that said you were his. A sign that said far more than words needed to–but apparently Tara still needed those, too.
“What is this?” she asked, anger settling onto her features as she gestured a hand at the pair of you. “What the hell is going on here, Jax? Why haven't you been returning my calls?”
“Because I told you a few days ago, Tara,” Jax stated. “There's not a damn thing I want from you. The past is the goddamn past. That’s where it’s saying.”
An irritated scoff fell out of her, her face pinching tight in anger at his words. “So you're just settling for club pussy now?” she spat, clearly referring to you. “Your standards have dropped that low?”
You could feel the way Jax immediately tensed beside you at her words. His hand resting along your shoulder curled into a tight fist and you knew that she’d just crossed a line. He was pissed.
“The fuck did you just call my girl?” he hissed at her.
“Look at her,” she continued, clearly not knowing when to shut her mouth as she gestured a hand at you again. “Hanging around here like the fucking club whores. She's trash, Jax. You could do far better than something like her.”
Jax didn't remove his arm from around your shoulders as he took an intimidating step towards Tara. You’d have taken offense to her words if it wasn't for the fact that you knew Jax was about to tell her off. And truthfully, after what she’d been doing to you for weeks, you were eager to let it happen.
“That's my old lady you're talking about, Tara,” he growled low, that menacing tone not lessening as realization seemed to finally cross her features. “You don't fucking talk to her or about her like that. You hear me? Cause the only one here acting like trash is the one throwing insults and a tantrum like a goddamn child.”
You took another pull off of your beer, fighting not to laugh at the look on her face right now. After the weeks of torment she'd put you through in the halls of the hospital, that expression of shock and disbelief made it all worthwhile.
“Now get the fuck outta here,” he warned her. “Because you've worn out your goddamn welcome in this clubhouse.”
Tara stood there seething, her lips pursed as her eyes slowly fell away from Jax’s unyielding expression. She focused on you next, her jaw tensed as if she was considering saying something else. As you swallowed your beer, you raised your other hand and waved at her, a sarcastic smile on your face.
“Goodbye, Tara,” you said.
She stood there for one moment longer before she let out a sharp, frustrated huff. Then she turned, walking briskly out of the clubhouse as multiple sets of eyes watched her exit. The smile on your face grew satisfied at the sight of the door closing behind her.
You had a feeling she wasn’t done trying to come between you and Jax, but you also knew that if she tried, Jax would back you for going off on her.
With Tara gone, Jax turned a bit more towards you, his arm still slung around your shoulders as his other hand reached up, gently grabbing your chin. He turned your face towards his, smiling down at you as if the situation with Tara was already forgotten.
“Sorry about the meeting, baby,” he murmured. “Some shit came up. But we're done now so I'm all yours for the night.”
You grinned up at him in return, a warmth settling in your chest. “Damn right you're all mine, outlaw,” you replied, loving the little smirk that pulled one corner of his lips higher. “And that’s all that matters, Jax.”
