Here you go! If you haven’t read the first one, this won’t make much sense yet. Read Lost Princessa or search for #masterlist on my blog.
This picks up about a week after the accident. Megan and our favorite Mayans have a new adventure ahead of them that involves Charming.
There will be warnings on each chapter. This is not intended for audiences under the age of 18. I never know what I’m going to end up writing so let’s get that out of the way right now. If you’re under 18 - scram.
Enjoy and be responsible for your own media consumption.
Tagging a few people who might be interested. @drabbles-mc @jemmakates @iamthegraham @delightfulheroshoeflap @xeniarocks (it won’t let me tag you for some reason)
@maysdigitalarts did these banners a long time ago and put them out there for people to use. I just found where I had saved this one to use in my next fic, but it won't let me tag them. They may have changed blogs.
Also- please feel free to use this as inspiration for whatever medium of art you do. If you do fan art or moodboards, please feel free. I'd love to see what everyone else sees when they read my work.
Well another May has come and gone and with it another Renaissance Festival. I was there every day in full garb and only left early once- when I very nearly passed out at a dear friend's music set. He did everything he could to keep me grounded and helped me make it through without either of us breaking character.
I saw friends I only see once a year. Made a few new ones too. Realized exactly how lucky I am to have the ones I do. The ones who look out for me in the lanes. Who know my heart condition and things to help me enjoy myself despite it. The vendors who know my food allergies like the back of their hands and carefully prepare food that I can eat- and even go out of their way to provide treats I normally can't find dairy free anywhere. The musicians who know all my favorites and curate entire sets to make me smile on hard days. That's true community. That's family in all but blood.
Truly- the Renaissance Festival community is the best and we take care of our own.
(There's one more outfit but it'll be in the comments since I hit the 10 picture limit)
Well another May has come and gone and with it another Renaissance Festival. I was there every day in full garb and only left early once- when I very nearly passed out at a dear friend's music set. He did everything he could to keep me grounded and helped me make it through without either of us breaking character.
I saw friends I only see once a year. Made a few new ones too. Realized exactly how lucky I am to have the ones I do. The ones who look out for me in the lanes. Who know my heart condition and things to help me enjoy myself despite it. The vendors who know my food allergies like the back of their hands and carefully prepare food that I can eat- and even go out of their way to provide treats I normally can't find dairy free anywhere. The musicians who know all my favorites and curate entire sets to make me smile on hard days. That's true community. That's family in all but blood.
Truly- the Renaissance Festival community is the best and we take care of our own.
(There's one more outfit but it'll be in the comments since I hit the 10 picture limit)
another series master list..... yes, i should be finishing the ones i've started... but here we are.
i have developed an unhealthy addiction to single mom reader fics (im not even a mom, i have no interest in being a mom !! but they go so fucking hard???) i did my BEST to be unspecific but i may have mentioned blush a few times throughout idk.
Jax's adopted sister by circumstance. I don’t make the rules, but I do write them. Your dating life sucks so your daughter picks a father for herself. I'll be listing the TW part by part this time bc it'll vary per section.
Part 1 - juice
Part 2 - coffee
Part 3 - happy
Part 4 - camera
Part 5 - fever
Part 6 - sunshine (mdni)
Part 7 - fast
Part 8 - surprise
Part 9 - daddy
Part 10 - mommy
Part 11 - jealous
Part 12 - girl
general taglist: @vaugarkel @coffeedreaminanreadin
if you want to be added just lmk
I literally love all of you, but as a Tumblr veteran, Tumblr's main feature is the reblog feature. It is the beating heart of the dashboard and the foundation for a chronological timeline. The For You page here should not be your default setting.
You guys have got to start reblogging stuff you enjoy, especially, specifically gifs and fan art but also fics and fan theories or even hot takes if you're not afraid of a lil discourse. I'm tired of being the first or third reblog for a person's post and then seeing my blog's followers do nothing but hit like, while blogs sit there with no new posts in months or years!
Reblog more stuff please. Thank you, have a good day.
You're not even going to reblog this post are you
Welcome to near 12k of pure self indulgence of SAMCRO fluff and smut. I've been in the trenches of lack of motivation so when I started this and it just kept going I wasn't about to stop. Please enjoy loves. ❤️
Pairings: Reader x Jax, Reader x Chibs, Reader x Tig
Warnings! Smut, fluff, drinking, drug use mentioned, vnp sex, blow jobs, cum eating, pna sex, spit roasting, dirty talk, foursome, finger licking good
Link to AO3-> HERE
You are already feeling overwhelmed by the stink of sweat and alcohol, loud music echoes around you, making your eardrums throb each time the bass shakes the building. Your hands are sweaty, and you are terrified that you’re going to drop your glass at any second. You should have known that coming here would be a terrible idea, but once Louise got an idea in her head, no one could change her mind.
So, like a good best friend, you sighed and got ready with her, fixing your hair and applying makeup to the best of your abilities. Louise let you borrow some of her clothes, skimpy little shorts and a sweater crop top that showed off too much of your soft stomach for you to be comfortable. A pair of cute black booties completed the outfit. You felt out of place with so much skin on display.
Lousie had run into a pair of bikers the other night at the bar, and they had invited the two of you to a party at their clubhouse. You had already been cautious about them being bikers, and that feeling only got worse when you realized that it was SAMCRO she had run into.
You’d lived in Charming your entire life, had even gone to school with Jax Teller and Ope Winston. They’d been several grades ahead of you, but you remember them always getting into something, always in trouble. SAMCRO was bad news, and you really didn’t want to get mixed in with them, but you weren’t about to let Louise get into some kind of trouble without you there to get her out of it.
But she was already gone, swept up in the chaotic mess that was SAMCRO. You stood off to the side near the pool tables, teeth digging into your painted lips as you desperately searched the crowd for your best friend.
“Ya look lost there, sweetheart.”
You jump at the sudden voice and turn, sloshing your drink over the rim. You cringe at the sticky mess it leaves on your fingers. The man who’d spoken looks like any other biker, dressed in dark jeans and a grey button-up, scuffed boots, and the ever-present leather kutte over his shirt. His eyes are blue, and his black hair is curly. The patch on his vest reads Redwood Original.
You grimace and lick the sticky mixed drink from your fingers without thinking, giving a one-shoulder shrug.
“You could say that,” You admit, “I’m here for my friend.”
The biker laughs, his eyes growing dark and interested at the sight of this tiny girl with curves for days licking her hand like a pretty little kitty. What luck.
“Yeah?” he drawls and shifts his weight, taking a half step closer to her. He breathes her in, mouth watering at the scent of her light perfume and something that’s her. He always did love a natural woman.
“Where’s she at now?”
You stall at the question and wipe your spit-cleaned hands on the creamy sweater you wear, shrugging again and tossing your hand out at the crowd of people drinking and laughing.
“In there somewhere,” You say and then frown, “I hope anyway. She was my ride here.”
The biker barks a laugh and gives you a crooked grin, “Well, since it looks like your friend has ditched you, why don’t you come hang out with me and mine?”
He gives you a once-over, shameless, “Unless you’d rather stand around like a loser.”
A surprised laugh bubbles out past your lips at his tease, and you find yourself smiling at the biker, accepting his offer.
“Don’t wanna be the loser, now do I?” you tease right back.
He laughs again and drapes an arm around your back, his fingers snagging the loops of your shorts as he begins to lead you deeper into the clubhouse. You flush and try not to let his presence affect you so much, but it’s difficult to say the least. It has been way too long since the last time a man had paid you any attention.
“Tig,” the biker introduces as he walks, “Your turn, kitten.”
Kitten?
You swallow down the noise you want to make at the nickname and introduce yourself. The table he leads you to is full of men. At the head sits a younger blonde, and you recognize Jax instantly. An older man with scarred cheeks sits on his right. You immediately feel like a rabbit in a den of wolves the second they catch sight of you standing beside Tig.
“What’s this?” The older man drawls, and you can hear his Scottish accent over the loud drawl of music, “A wee lass, Tiggy?”
Any feelings of safety go right out the door when Tig gently pushes you forward and sits down before snagging your hip and tugging you down to his lap. You grunt, and your spine locks up, eyes wide as you look between the men.
“Mhm,” Tig drawls, and you suck in a sharp breath when his hand lands on your thigh. It’s warm and big and sweaty. You feel heat bloom in your cheeks when he uses his hold to drag you back, your ass meeting his crotch, “A lost little kitten. Her friend left her, so I offered her our company.”
You look back up when you hear a familiar, raspy chuckle. Jax is watching you with those blue eyes you remember meeting back in high school. Him, a senior, and you, a freshman. Jax had been on his way to the office, his cheek bruised from a fight. You can’t help but wonder if he remembers you.
“How generous,” The Scot drawls and tips his head at you, “Call me, Chibs, love. The broody one is Jax.”
“I know,” You say and curse yourself when you get a round of raised brows. You clear your throat and gesture at Jax, “I went to high school with you. I was a freshman when you were a senior.”
Jax smirks then and shifts from his careless sprawl to something more calculated. He leans forward, head tilting to the side, and rests his right ankle on the opposite knee.
“Looks like we got a little high school reunion going on, Chibs,” He murmurs, and a round of laughter rumbles around the table, “Hate to say that I don’t remember you though, sweetheart.”
You shrug, unbothered, “I didn’t expect you to. We didn’t exactly run in the same circles.”
Chibs looks you up and down, his scars stretching along his cheeks as he drags his tongue over his bottom lip. “So why’d you come here, then?”
“Yeah, Kitten,” Tig drawls behind you, and you feel him adjust his weight, his thighs spreading to better support your added weight, “Why?”
You swallow and fight down the urge to squirm under their combined gazes. Christ, this was awful.
“I guess some of your members met my friend yesterday and invited us to the party. I didn’t want her to come alone, but then she disappeared the second we got here, so..”
You trail off and shrug, chewing your bottom lip, a nervous habit that you’ve not been able to break. You know that you shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t a place for a girl who once cried because she spilled a bowl of ice cream on her cat.
“Like I said,” Tig rumbles, and your eyes flick to his hand when it flexes along your thigh, “Lost.”
“You’re scaring the lass,” Chibs drawls and stands suddenly. You watch him round the table and pluck your watered-down mixed drink from your hands, “Let’s get ye a proper drink.”
“So,” Jax says and catches your attention again, “What have you been up to since High School? Got kids, boyfriend? End up going to college?”
You blink at him, surprised that he was even interested in anything that you’ve been doing. You thank Chibs when he passes by with a fresh glass, glancing down at the amber liquid and taking a careful sip. You grimace when the whiskey burns down and settles warm in your stomach. You’d always preferred fruity drinks, but you weren’t about to complain.
“Uhm, College,” You begin and shift on Tig’s lap. You are short enough, and he is big enough, that you can cross your ankles and swing them back and forth. You’ve no idea that the longer you sit there, so fucking adorable to these hardened men, you are creating a very big problem for yourself.
Because you see, these men didn’t get soft things in their lives, so when they did. Well, they stopped understanding the concept of letting go.
They listen to you chat; the sound of your voice, soft and a little airy, makes them relax back into their chairs. They take turns asking you questions, anything to keep you talking. You don’t even notice your glass emptying, having grown so comfortable in their company. It isn’t until you yawn and check your phone that you frown.
“Damn,” You mutter and tuck your phone back in your shorts, “I should head home. It’s late, and all I’ve done is talk your ear off.”
Tig’s hand tightens on your thigh when his brain registers your words. He shifts under you, his free arm winding around your waist to keep you from getting up from his lap. Tig noses at your hair, breathing you in again.
“No need to rush off, kitten,” He murmurs and shares a look over the table with his brothers, “Stay a while, have a couple more drinks.”
Chibs is already rising to refill your glass, dark eyes locking with yours over the table when he leans forward to grab the bottle of whiskey and pour before you can protest. Your cheeks go pink, and you are swiftly reminded that these men aren’t the kind old men who come looking for directions at your job. No, these were hardened, dangerous people who were most likely criminals. You lick your lips and debate with yourself.
You could do what you usually did and refuse the drink, take a cab home, and text Louise in the morning to make sure she survived. Or, you could accept the drink and stay.
Maybe if you hadn’t been drinking for the past couple of hours, you would have made the right choice. Instead, you sit back, allowing Tig to take your weight and bring the glass to your lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip.
“...I guess I can stay a little longer,” You murmur and seal your fate with those few words.
Tig grins against your hair and presses a featherlight kiss there before leaning back in his seat and taking you with him.
“That’s a good girl,” He rasps behind you, and you flush at the praise, lips twisting into a tiny, pleased smile. Their attention was addictive, and you could easily see yourself falling into them if you weren’t careful.
Who knew that rough bikers with bad pasts were your kryptonite?
One drink turns into two and then a third. By then, you are feeling the liquor more than you might at home. The party is in full swing still, and the SAMCRO men have yet to let you go. You had watched other women, ones wearing less than you, slide into the dark corner only for Jax or Chibs to dismiss them casually, their focus on whatever you were talking about. You blushed and stuttered out each time, not used to anyone giving you their attention like they were.
“There you are!”
You blink at the voice and look, giving Louise a shy smile when she happens to spot you. She stops at the edge of the table, a pout on her pretty lips as she looks at your seating arrangements.
“Hey, Louise,” You greet. You are genuinely glad to see her. Trouble followed her like a bad stink.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” She bites out, and you jerk, eyes going wide at the heat in her voice. Your hands clench around your glass, and you feel Tig tense under you.
“And here you are, being a fucking slut.”
“Whoa now,” Jax drawls and sits up from his lazy slouch, blue eyes narrowing in on your friend, “We’ve been keeping her company. You’re the one who left her the second you two got in.”
Louise sets her jaw and crosses her arms tight over her chest. You loved her, but she was the type of girl who couldn’t stand not to be the center of attention. You could feel the jealousy pouring off her from across the table.
“So? She’s a big girl,” Louise snaps back, and you flinch at the glare she sends her way, “I thought you were better than this. You’re supposed to be the innocent one.”
Your jaw clenches and your frown, lip wobbling, “I’ve just been sitting here, Louise.”
She scoffs and rolls her eyes, cocking her hip, “Yeah, right. Why would men like them want your attention?”
“Oi,” Chibs barks, and his expression is dark when you cut your eyes over at him, “I think tha’s enough, girly.”
“He’s right,” Jax says and cocks his head, jerking his chin back across the room, “She doesn’t need you right now, so go on back over there and hang off the prospect’s arm.”
Louise’s face goes bright red, and you wince when she stomps her foot like a literal child before rounding back on you and pointing a manicured nail in your direction.
“Fine. Find your own ride back home,” She spits and turns on her heel, marching back into the crowds.
You watch her go, dumbfounded and hurt by her bad attitude. You suddenly feel very small, and your teeth dig into your bottom lip, your shoulders hunching in embarrassment.
Tig shares a look over the table with the other men. Your change in demeanor is obvious after your friend's departure, and it makes them burn with annoyance. Not at you, but at Louise for dragging you down.
“Don’t listen to her, Kitten,” Tig murmurs in your ear. He is close enough that you feel his breath, warm and smelling like whiskey, on the back of your neck.
“She’s a jealous thing,” Jax comments and leans back in his seat, relaxing again now that the corner had been restored to order once more.
You clear your throat and lean more of your weight into Tig, his broad chest warm and comforting, “Yeah. She’s always been like this. Can’t stand not being the center of the world.”
“Why are you friends with her?” Jax asks, and Chibs grunts, also curious.
Tig tightens his grip around your waist, his biceps flexing against your stomach. You can feel the muscle twitch against your tummy where your cropped shirt rides up. You swallow hard and tug at your shirt, but your messing just makes it worse.
“I, uhm,” You begin and shrug, “I dunno. I’ve been friends with her since first grade, so not being her friend doesn’t sound right.”
The men make low sounds of understanding. Before Ope passed, he had been Jax’s best friend since elementary school, so he could understand your situation with Louise. But that didn’t give her the right to talk to such a sweet thing as you as she had, though.
“Shouldn’t be friends with someone like that, baby girl,” Jax comments idly and watches as Tig shifts under you, tucking you into his chest like he is trying to hide you away from the world. Chibs sends him a look, and the blonde just smirks back.
Your lips draw into a little pout, and you take a pull from your glass to hide your displeasure at his comment.
“Jackie Boy’s right, pet,” Chibs drawls, and you look at him over your glass. He shifts in his seat, thick legs spreading out as he balances a bottle of whiskey on his thigh. The VP had stopped using a glass about an hour ago. His accent had only gotten thicker the longer the night went on.
“Don’t need wee cunts draggin’ ye down with them.”
Your cheeks burn, and you open your mouth to defend your friend, only for Jax to beat you to the punch.
“Mhm,” he grunts and rolls his shoulders, “She talk to you like that often?”
You nibble your lower lip. You shouldn’t answer. You feel like a bad friend from what little you’ve said about Louise so far. Still, you find yourself shrugging.
“Only when she drinks,” you say and then frown heavier, “Which is… a lot.”
“See,” Tig rumbles behind you. His lips brush your ear with every word, making heat bloom with each time his voice rasps, “That’s borderline abuse, kitten. You shouldn’t deal with that.”
He shifts and lifts a hand to cup your jaw, gently guiding you to turn and look up at him through your lashes. Tig has a very hard time controlling himself at the sight of those pretty eyes looking at him like that. All it would take is a little nudge, and he could kiss you.
But not yet.
“How about we be your friends instead?” Tig drawls and his lips curl into a soft smirk, his thumb smoothing along your jaw, keeping your attention on him.
“We’d treat you much better than she does, baby.”
You make a low sound in the back of your throat, eyes going wide and glassy. Tig says friends, but you feel like it’s far more than that with how the three of them keep looking at you. Like all things with these men, you know that any choice you make with them will probably be a bad one, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when you want this something fierce.
“I-,” You clear your throat and look between them, nodding along, “I would like that. To be friends.”
Chibs laughs, low and rough, and Jax echoes the sound, his blue eyes darken into something stormy, and he drags his tongue over his teeth.
“Yeah, baby girl,” He drawls, and the three of them share a look over your head, “Friends.”
---------
Louise moved out of the apartment after that night. She had been pissed after Tig had dropped you off a day after the party. She’d yelled and screamed, furious and jealous that boring you had somehow gotten the attention of three very handsome men. You had tried to explain that it wasn’t like that. That you were just friends with the bikers, and Louise refused to believe you.
The three of them had been nothing but courteous to you while you’d stayed at the clubhouse on the TM lot, going so far as to let you borrow some of their clothes and let you sleep in Chibs’ room since his was the cleanest. Tig had bought you breakfast, and they had entertained you with wild stories and memories. It had been the most fun you’d had in a very long time.
Only for your good mood to be flushed down the drain the moment you stepped into the apartment you shared with Louise. She was still pissed, still seething over the fact that you had stayed at Teller-Marrow instead of coming home with her that night. You had stood there, dumbfounded and struck as she laid into you, face red and voice pitched loud enough that Tig had heard it from outside on the sidewalk.
Louise had tried to demand that you pack your things, but you’d been quick to remind her that you were the main provider between the two of them. You constantly covered for her half of the bills, her half of the food. And maybe that had been hanging over your head because you suddenly find yourself snarling right back at her.
If anyone was packing their bags, it was going to be her.
You’d grabbed a bag and a couple of changes of clothes after that. You didn’t want to be around the apartment while Lousie packed her things. Your room had been locked, so it wasn’t like she could take anything if she was feeling truly petty.
Tig had caught you after fleeing the building, snagging you by the arm, his grip tight but not enough to actually hurt you. He’d toss himself into oncoming traffic if he ever happened to do something that fucking stupid.
“Hey, hey,” He steps in front of you, big hands on your shoulders, steadying you, “What’s goin’ on, baby. Talk to me.”
You sniff and wipe your face, unaware that you had even started crying, “Louise is what’s going on. She’s still pissed at me.”
Tig’s jaw sets in frustration, and he gently tugs you closer, one hand splaying across your back. He leads you back to his bike and carefully manhandles you back on, his hands shifting to bracket your hips and keep you steady.
“Don’t listen to her, kitten,” Tig murmurs and cups your face, smoothing his thumb over the apple of your cheek, “She’s just jealous. You don’t need her anymore, got me?”
“I kicked her out,” You rasp and let out a slightly hysterical wet laugh, “I can’t believe I did that.”
Tig shares your laugh and shifts his weight, lips curling into a smirk at your breathy admission, “Yeah? That’s great, baby. Way to hold your own.”
And it was a good thing. Because if you hadn’t, then he was, and that wouldn’t have been a very pretty sight to see. So instead of marching into your apartment and tossing Louise’s shit off the balcony, Tig sets his spare helmet on your head and buckles it under your chin, blue eyes meeting your own when he hooks a finger under the strap and gently tilts your head back.
“You can stay at the clubhouse with us while she moves out,” Tig murmurs and searches your face, blue eyes catching yours again, “The guys won’t mind having you around.”
You drag your teeth over your bottom lip, uncertain, but wanting, “ I dunno. I don’t want to impose.”
Tig scoffs and rolls his eyes, lips tugging up in a grin that’s all teeth, “Baby, you wouldn’t be imposing. Besides, we’re friends. And friends let friends help, right?”
You can’t help but laugh, your eyes squinting at the corners as you give a reluctant nod. Tig had you there.
“Yeah,” You murmur and wipe your face again, your laugh softening, “Yeah, we’re friends.”
And that’s how you ended up back at the clubhouse, your bag of clothes tucked away in Chibs’ room, and your ass parked on a stool at the bar. The clubhouse was a lot nicer without dozens of bikers and croweaters crowding the place, and you could feel yourself really start to relax. The glass of bourbon certainly helped, and so did the three men who lingered around you.
Jax and Tig stood on either side of you while Chibs manned the bar, the three of them listening as you recounted your reunion with Louise earlier that day. You sigh heavily when you finish and then sip from your glass, lips tugging up into a grimace.
“Well,” Chibs breaks the silence, “Ye’ll have a quiet apartment when ye go back home, lass. Tha’ sounds like a win to me.”
You huff a laugh and nod along. Chibs wasn’t wrong about that, and it felt pretty freeing to admit. It would just be one more thing you would have to get used to.
Though you really should have known that being just friends with a bunch of rough, possessive bikers wasn’t going to last very long. Not when you would be here, in the clubhouse with them for the next couple of days. Where they would have unrestricted access to your attention while you weren’t at work.
Things started off innocently enough at first. A lingering hand here, a whispered word there. You’d come home from your little office job, wearing a blouse that made your tits look perfect and a little pincle skirt that they wanted to see around your hips instead. Jax would pass you a glass, his fingers brushing yours and his free hand settling on your hip, gently leading you to sit on the couch with him.
Chibs would be there in front of you, sitting on the table, reaching down to tug off your heels and dig his fingers into the tense muscles of your ankle and calf. Tig would loom behind you, big hands working a stubborn knot out of your shoulders.
And you let them. You didn’t say a word of protest as these dangerous men doted on you after a long day dealing with corporate assholes.
One would think that their behavior would change after you went back home to your apartment, but that wouldn’t be the case at all. If anything, they got worse.
At first, as the weeks progressed, you’d get a text from one of them. Short and to the point while you were at the office.
<dinner tonight?>
You’d stare at the message from Jax, debating whether you had the energy to deal with your friends after a long day, before messaging him back.
< Bring your own booze this time.>
You’d arrive at your apartment building to the sight of at least two bikes in your extra parking spot each time, and if one wasn’t present, then they surely would be before dinner was served. Things felt far more intimate inside your apartment, three pairs of sturdy boots, and three kuttes hung up by your door. Standing in your kitchen, watching the men bicker over the TV remote in the living room, everything feels a lot more than just friends.
But that was just wishful thinking on your part.
You busy yourself with turning the oven off and then carefully removing the pan from within. Jax takes his chance then, shuffling into the kitchen and sliding in behind you, big hands settling on your hips after you set the pan down on the counter. He snickers when you jump, meeting your scowl with a smirk of his own when you turn to glare up at him.
“Easy, baby,” He rumbles. He digs his fingers into the meat of your hips, his thumbs dragging along your lower back, “Just me.”
You huff at him, lips quirking up as you roll your eyes at his touchy behavior. You can smell the whiskey on his breath. They always got more handsy after a couple of drinks.
“What are you doing, Jax?” You question while you check the bottoms of the rolls, making sure that none of them are too burned. His hands flex, and you tense when his thumbs drag dangerously close to the top of your sweatpants, sliding just under the elastic. You feel your cheeks grow warm, and you almost drop the next roll you pick up.
“Takin’ care of you,” Jax rasps behind you, and his thumbs sweep lower this time, his nails dragging into the skin just above your ass, “You’ve had a long day, and then you come home and take care of our dumbasses.”
You lick your lips and shrug, pretending that you don’t feel like you’re about to explode from his touch alone, “It’s just dinner. You know I like to cook.”
“Still,” Jax murmurs and gently tugs you into him, your back meeting his chest. He dips down, dragging his nose along the shell of your ear and up, breathing you in, “Ain’t gotta do all this for us, mama.”
You feel heat explode in your face and in your stomach. That was new, and you definitely liked it. A shiver wracks up your spine, and you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes going heavy with sudden arousal that you’re having trouble shoving down.
The three of them catch your reaction, and Jax grins behind you. He pulls you back again, pressing a kiss just behind your ear, “Go sit. Let us deal with the rest.”
“Aye,” Chibs drawls, and he is suddenly there, reaching across the counter bar and curling his fingers along your jaw, gently lifting your head so you could face him. He smooths his thumb over your lower lip, pressing down just so with his nail.
“Dinner is done, so sit a spell, ma. Let us take care of you.”
You find yourself sitting at the dining table with a plate of food in front of you and your brain feeling just a little fuzzy. The boys are acting like that hadn’t just purred filth in your ear moments before. You blink and eat your dinner, watching them laugh and cut up like children until their plates have been cleared. Before you can take them like you usually would, Jax and Tig are already up, taking over your sink while Chibs slides into your space and tugs you back to the living room.
A bottle of wine and a slim-stemmed glass wait on the table, and Chibs lowers you to the couch before cracking open the bottle and pouring you a healthy glass of the red. You take it and sip, watching him over the rim as he turns the TV down and settles beside you on the couch.
The atmosphere feels different, charged. Still comfortable and easy, but there is a lingering feeling of more that lurks in the room.
“Sweetheart,” Jax begins once the dishes have been done and everyone has found a seat in the living room. You feel yourself tense, not liking the tone of his voice. Jax sits in front of you, pushing the bottle of wine down the table, “We need to talk.”
Your heart immediately lodges in your throat, and every worst-case scenario you can imagine runs through your mind. Your hands tighten around your glass, and you have to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth physically. Your voice is a soft croak.
“..Okay…”
“Ain’t anything bad, Kitten,” Tig says from where he lounges in your armchair, socked feet kicked up on the coffee table, “So don’t freak out.”
You give a little wheezing laugh and nod, doing your level best not to do exactly what he said not to do and freak out.
“We just wanna talk to you, propose something,” Jax continues and clasps his hands together, his thumbs rubbing over scarred knuckles. He watches you closely, blue eyes raking over your sweatpants and t-shirt, looking adorable and rumpled like usual.
“Listen,” Chibs chimes in from beside you, and his hand finds your thigh, squeezing the flesh there, thumb digging into the meat, “We’ve done some soul searchin’, love, and we’ve all agreed that we want to be more than friends with you.”
You feel your mind go a bit blank at his words, each one bouncing around your skull like a ping pong ball. You blink and look between the three of them, brow furrowing.
“What?”
Tig huffs from his seat and leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, “Look, Kitten. We wanna share you, in every way that your little brain can think of.”
He meets your eyes, his own dark with arousal and need, “Do you want that?”
“Tig,” Jax bites out and sends the other man a glare, “We said we’d give it to her slow, not toss her in the fuckin’ ocean.”
Tig shrugs, impatient and unrepentant, “She can handle it.”
You could definitely not handle it. You feel like you’re in a daze, mind fuzzy and full of their words as you sit there and listen to Jax and Tig bicker. These men wanted you. They wanted you in the way that you wanted them.
Was it crazy? Absolutely. But you had learned a lot by being friends with these men, and one of those things was living life by the edge. They lived by their own rules and conduct, and didn’t care about social norms.
Maybe you shouldn’t either.
“Lass?”
Chibs’ voice breaks through your spiraling thoughts, and you turn to give him your full attention. He smiles at you, a tiny thing that makes the scars on his cheeks stretch across his face, “Ain’t gotta decide anything right now.”
But despite his assurances, you did want to choose right now. You were tired of pretending that what you felt for these men didn’t exist when it damn well did.
So, you throw caution to the wind and say fuck it.
Chibs grunts when their kitten suddenly snaps a hand out and grabs his kutte, tugging him forward and kissing him like it was going out of style. He immediately falls into the kiss, lips tugging up in a smug smirk when he hears twin groans of want coming from his brothers.
He cups your cheek with one hand, the other curling around your waist and tugging until you sit in his lap. He adjusts so that your knees sit on either side of his hips, effectively straddling him. His hand grips your hip, and a low groan escapes his throat when you grind down without thinking. Chibs tightens his grip, moving you how he wants and hissing through his teeth when he feels your heat through the layers you both wear.
“Ah ah,” You hear Jax tut, and then there was a hand threading through your hair, his fingers tangled in the thick strands as he leads your head back. Jax stands, looming over you with a smirk, while Chibs leans in, his beard scraping along your throat, where he presses open-mouthed kisses along your flesh.
“Share, VP,” Jax rumbles and leans down, his lips brushing against your own, his eyes locked with yours, “There’s enough of her to go around.”
Jax kisses you then, rough and needy, his tongue sliding into your mouth to explore you with a low groan of pleasure. It’s sloppy and wet, but fucking perfect.
Not to be left out, Tig stands and shoves Jax out of the way, leaving you a panting mess with kiss-swollen lips and flushed cheeks before he closes the distance to claim your waiting mouth for himself.
Kissing Tig comes with a lot more teeth. His tongue is hot and heavy in your mouth, demanding all of your attention as it curls around your own slick muscle and sucks. The action makes you whine, eyes rolling with pleasure before it’s suddenly taken away again, only to be replaced with another set of lips that leave you desperate for oxygen.
“Tha’s it, lass,” Chibs purrs in your ear. His accent curls around each word, and you feel slick start to bloom in your core, leaking down to soak into your panties.
“Ye look divine, sat ‘ere in my lap, our hands on you.”
Tig chuckles, the sound low and rough, and noses against the side of your head, eyes locked on the way Jax licks into your mouth like you were the best-tasting thing left on this planet. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes glassy with lust as you squirm on Chibs’ lap, surrounded by the three of them. He wants to see more, wants to see how well you could take all three of them. To see you worked open, pleasure painting your face until you couldn’t remember anything but their names.
But not yet. Not when this thing between the three of you was so new.
Chibs is the one to put a stop to the mess of kisses and wandering hands. He shoves Jax and Tig away, giving you the chance to take a much-needed breath as you lean back and settle against his chest. He holds you close, his hands smoothing up and down your sides as you calm down.
Tig pouts but sits down beside you, leaning back on the cushions as you run a hand through your hair and take a couple of deep breaths. Jax watches you closely, blue eyes sharp.
“You okay, babygirl?”
You nod. Your brain still feels a little fuzzy, but you’re pretty sure that’s from lack of oxygen and not feeling stunned.
“‘M okay,” you rasp and laugh softly, “More than okay.”
“See,” Tig crows and snags one of your hands, lifting it up to press his lips against your knuckles with a grin, “I knew she could take it.”
Jax rolls his eyes and sits back, though his eyes never leave your face, “Never said she couldn’t, brother. Just didn’t want to chance scaring you away.”
You huff a soft laugh and shake your head at them. Your other hand is snagged by Jax, and he tangles your fingers with his own, “I don’t think you guys could ever scare me.”
Chibs hums behind you, his dark eyes soft as he leans in to kiss the back of your skull, lingering there to breathe you in, “We don’t ever want to scare you, sweet girl.”
Jax cuts in then, and any butterfly feelings you were having in that moment sober up at the look on his face. You swallow hard and meet his eyes, knowing that whatever he was about to say is important.
“You know we aren’t good men,” He begins, and you nod even though it wasn’t a question. Jax licks his lips, looking appeased when you do so, “We aren’t nice men, sweetheart. This isn’t a happy hold hands and go watch a movie relationship.”
You nod along then. You’d understood that the night Louise had dragged you to the clubhouse.
“Good,” Jax intones softly, “Because we don’t want to scare you, baby, but sometimes we have to do scary things. You understand that?”
You swallow hard at that. You weren’t ignorant about SAMCRO. You’ve lived in Charming your entire life after all. But you also knew that while they were dangerous, no one in the club ever went out of their way to hurt anyone in the town they lived in. That would be an insult to what they stood for.
“Yeah,” You say and meet his eyes, steeling yourself at the intensity you see there, “I understand.”
Jax searches your face, the other two doing the same, looking for any kind of doubt you might have over your choice. He smirks when he finds none there and lifts the hand he holds to press a kiss to your knuckles, lingering there with a heavy look in his eyes.
“Glad we understand each other then, sweetheart,” Jax murmurs and then leans in, his lips pressing against your brow, “We’ll make sure you don’t regret this.”
------
Having three different boyfriends was a lot of work. Surprisingly, they were easier to deal with when they were all together. They balanced each other out, leaving you there to bask and enjoy their presence with ease. But there were days when you’d only see one of them at a time, and their greed knew no bounds.
After receiving a key to your apartment, there would be days when you would come home, and Jax would be lounging on your couch, white shoes by the door, and his shirt tossed in the recliner while he stretched out on the couch. You’d smile and pet his blonde hair, gently tugging until he woke up.
“Sorry,” He’d say and give you that weary smile Jax wore when he felt the world closing in around him, “Needed somewhere quiet.”
You’d just smile and shrug, not bothered that he had used your apartment as a safe space, “Go back to sleep. I’ll make you some tea.”
Jax would grumble and drag you down to the couch instead, wrapping his arms around your waist and smooshing your face in his chest, his face buried in your hair as he breathed you in. He’d roll the two of you, slotting his body over yours as he pressed greedy kisses to your cheeks and throat, his lips finally meeting your own when you whined at him to stop teasing.
Other times, it would be Chibs. He liked to swing by the office you worked at for your lunch, always bringing by your favorite but never the same thing too many days in a row. Your coworkers would coo and caw, whispering loudly about you dating an older man, and…wait.
Didn’t they see you with someone else just the other day?
But you don’t pay them any mind, too busy greeting Chibs and pressing a kiss to his scarred cheek when he offers you a to-go cup of your favorite tea.
“Yer lucky I like ye, lass,” He’d grumble, but you could hear the smile in his voice, “Hard to drive a bike with a flimsy cup in hand.”
“You don’t have to keep bringing me lunch,” You point out one evening, and Chibs scoffs, giving you a glare.
“Like hell, lass,” He rasps and reaches out, thumbing away a crumb that had lingered on the corner of your mouth, “Ye’d miss me too much.”
And then there was Tig.
Tig, who liked to call you in the morning, his voice slurring over the speaker as music blasts in the background and someone else starts yelling.
“Hey, babycakes,” Tig would slur, and you would sigh, already getting out of bed and putting your house shoes on, “Think you could come save your poor boyfriend?”
You’d show up at the bar, and Tig would drag you in for a sloppy kiss with too many teeth and tongue, leaving your lips swollen before promptly passing out in the passenger seat of your car. You’d roll your eyes and drag him inside, setting a bottle of water and some painkillers on the table for him to take in the morning.
Tig would drag himself up and drape across your shoulders, pressing soft kisses to the back of your head, his voice rough with a hangover.
“Always takin’ such good care of me, mama.”
It was something new with them almost every day. They would surprise you with something, whether it be good or bad. And if it were bad? Well, they knew how to go all out.
The first time their way of life had affected you, you had nearly ended everything that night. You’d been fast asleep on the couch, having dozed off during a movie on the rare night that you were without one of your boys.
The loud pounding of your front door jerked you awake, making you tumble off the couch and to the floor. Before you could try and figure out what the hell was going on, you’d heard Jax through the door.
“Baby, come on,” He’d snarled and smacked his hand on the door, “Open up, baby, we need your help.”
You’d scrambled to open the door, terrified and with your heart in your throat. Jax and Chibs came stumbling in, Tig limp between the two of them. Blood soaked their clothes, and you could feel your hands start to shake when they carefully laid him out on your couch.
“Towels,” Jax barked, and you jumped when he snapped his fingers at you. Chibs had already dropped and was tugging Tig’s jeans.
“Sweetheart,” Jax snarled, “Towels. Now.”
Your feet were moving before you could consciously think to move. You drag out every towel in your hallway closet and shove them at Jax and Chibs. Your stomach turns at the smell of iron, and you can’t look at how red everything was.
“Snap out of it, baby,” Jax barked, and you jerked your head up to face him. His brow was furrowed, his face pale and strained. “We need you with us.”
“Bowl of water, love,” Chibs grunted then and jerked his chin in the direction of the kitchen, “On to it, lass.”
You’d toiled at the edges after that, fetching whatever they needed to stabilize Tig until their doctor could make it to your apartment. You stand beside Tig when they are done, carefully avoiding looking too close at the blood-soaked towel wrapped around his upper thigh.
“Hey.”
You blink, glancing down at Tig when his raspy voice meets your ears. He lifts a hand and cups your cheek, wincing when it makes his leg twitch, “Don’t cry, baby. I’ll be right as rain.”
You sniff and wipe at your face. You hadn’t even realized that you’d started to cry until he pointed it out. He grins up at you, but the sight of blood in his teeth and his pain-filled eyes does little to make you feel better.
“What happened?” You ask and look away from Tig to the other two, eyes raking down their bodies, searching for wounds or blood that isn’t from Tig.
“Not for you to worry about, Kitten,” Jax had immediately said and fished out a cigarette, lighting up as he began to pace the living room. Chibs settled by Tig, keeping the towel tight around the other man’s thigh as he watched Jax smoke like a chimney.
“What?” You demanded and narrowed your eyes. Your voice went sharp, and your jaw set stubbornly, “Tig’s bleeding out on my couch and you’re going to tell me not to worry about it?”
You flinch at the look that Jax sends you, but you don’t apologize or take anything back. You couldn’t not over this.
“Yeah,” Jax drawls and stops in front of you, looming, “I expect you to be a good girl and not ask any fucking questions.”
You swallow hard at his harsh tone and frown. Your hands clench at your sides, and you feel an unfamiliar well of anger begin to burn in your chest.
“You don’t get to say that when something like this-,” you gesture at Tig and your ruined couch, “Is going on. I won’t be kept in the dark.”
Jax glares at you, taking a step forward, making you tilt your head back to stare up at him as he chain smokes like a train, “Watch your tone, girl.”
Before either of you could start arguing, your front door burst open, and you were forced to move when a dark-haired woman with a medical bag strode in and began to ask questions. You grit your teeth and fall to the wayside, watching as Chibs explains that Tig had been shot in the thigh and that your apartment was closer than the clubhouse.
Jax snags your arm, and you find yourself dragged into the kitchen, away from the gruesome sight of one of your boyfriends getting a bullet dug out of the meat of his leg. Jax presses you against the fridge, making sure that he has your full attention.
“Listen to me, baby,” he rumbles and grabs your jaw, fingers digging in just enough to make your nose crinkle in discomfort, “You don’t know shit because not knowing keeps your ass safe.”
You glare up at him, lips pursed in frustration, “That’s not fair. I don’t want to be kept in the dark, Jax.”
The blonde sighs heavily and scrubs a hand through his hair, fingers gripping for half a second before he lets his hand fall back to his side, “We can’t do that. It ain’t safe for you.”
You feel true anger swell up in your chest. You wouldn’t do this thing with them half-assed. You would be in all the way or not at all. Even the thought of something happening to one of them and being uninformed about it makes your stomach hurt.
“I don’t want secrets between us,” You say tightly, your voice is loud enough that the ones in the living room could hear you, “You’ll be open with me about everything, or I don’t want to be a part of this.”
You force yourself to meet his startled expression. It was obvious that Jax hadn’t expected you to go that far right off the bat, but you are firm in your choice. You cross your arms tightly, eyes swelling with tears that you sniff back.
“I can’t handle secrets, Jax.”
The silence that settles over the room is only interrupted by the pained wheezing from Tig while their doc stitches his thigh back up. Jax stares at you, his jaw set, before he shoots a look at Chibs, who’d been listening in the entire time. They share a silent conversation before Tig groans dramatically and tosses a hand over his eyes.
“Jus’ fuckin’ tell ‘er,” He slurs, voice rough from blood loss and the shit show that had happened that night, “Ain’t losin’ my fuckin’ kitten over somethin’ stupid.”
You and Jax stare each other down for a full minute after Tig’s outburst, neither of you willing to back down until Chibs sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Just tell ‘er, Jackie Boy. This won’t be the first time somethin’ like this will happen.”
You shoot a thankful look at Chibs and then focus back on Jax, who looks like he is seconds away from blowing his top at having his men turn on him. He chews his lips and then closes his eyes, nostrils flaring before he opens his eyes and meets your own.
“I sent Tig and Juice for a little recon into Niner territory. They’ve been moving product through our parts, and I wanted to know what it was. They got caught, and Tig got shot in the thigh before they could get out.”
You don’t necessarily feel better knowing what happened, but you do feel better, more settled, now that there wasn’t anything being kept from you. You lick your lips and peek at Tig, who catches your eye and winks at you like he wasn’t bleeding out on your couch.
“So what are you gonna do about it?” You find yourself asking. There is an odd detachment to your voice. You understand that you are asking a dangerous question, but seeing one of your lovers hurt as this pisses you off now that you’ve gotten over the fear.
“Retaliation,” Chibs drawls from where he leans in the doorway of the kitchen now. He smokes his own cigarette, the cherry burning bright red as he takes a pull, “Ain’t lettin’ them get away with somethin’ like this.”
You nod slowly and prop yourself up on the counter. Your eyes slide back over to Tig, and your stomach rolls at the sight of the red towels that have been tossed around him. He is pale, gaunt-looking, and you hate that there isn’t really a way you can help him right now.
Jax, even if it was like pulling teeth with him, kept you more in the loop after that. SAMCRO had their retaliation a week later, and a party was thrown in honor of stealing the rival gangs’ product. The clubhouse blasted with loud music, and you were swiftly reminded of your first night here. It didn’t feel like nearly half a year had already passed by then.
You take up the role of Tig Watcher, which wasn’t a very hard job when the man didn’t feel like leaving your side. The two of you took up one of the couches in the common room, your feet tucked under your body, while you sipped from a glass of whiskey, and Tig used your lap as a pillow. Your free hand had made a home in his curly hair, absentmindedly petting him while you listened in on Jax’s conversation with Chibs and Happy.
Only for a frown to grace your lips when an unfamiliar woman decided to step into their space. Your eyes narrow at the sight, watching the other woman lean into Chibs. Tig follows your line of sight and laughs, blue eyes squinting in amusement.
“Uh oh,” He drawled and pinched your thigh with a snarky grin, “Someone is jealous.”
“She’s new,” You comment instead of admitting that you are indeed jealous, “Everyone knows that we’re together.”
“Not her,” Tig murmurs and shifts with a wince, rolling so that he faces the crowds of drinking bikers and hangers-on, “You gonna do something about that?”
You tap a manicured nail against the glass you hold, jaw setting in growing annoyance. The longer she hangs off your boyfriend, the tighter your chest begins to feel. Finally, you huff and tap Tig on the shoulder, gesturing for him to rise, “...yes.”
It didn’t happen often, but the boys weren’t shy in giving or receiving affection from you. Every now and then, you had to get possessive. Because your boys are flirts, and would stand there and just let another woman hang off of them if you didn’t step in. You still aren’t sure if they do that on purpose or not.
Tig giggles like the schoolgirl he is and flops back down on the couch, stretching like a house cat as he watches you lope across the floor, “Go get ‘em, Tiger!”
You ignore Tig and slide into Chibs’ space, leaning into his arm as you steal his beer and take a sip, grabbing his attention as you did so, “Tiggy needed you, love.”
Chibs glances down at you, brow cocking up as he looks from you to Tig, who is still grinning like a cat who got the cream. He then cut his eyes at the woman whom he just now really noticed, and a smirk curled his lips when he understood what was happening.
“Aye, does he now, love?” Chibs drawls and gives you his full attention, his back to the woman standing half a step too close. “He looks fine ta me.”
You roll your eyes at him, though your little act is already starting to break when your lips twitch with amusement. Jax steps in seconds later, a big hand setting firm on your lower back. You see the newbie huff and puff like an ornery hen and have to bite back a smirk. Thankfully, Happy is an actual saint and snags her attention, grumbling as he guides the poor woman away.
“What's going on here?” Jax drawls curiously, blonde brow cocked as he looks between you and Chibs.
“I think our wee lass is jealous,” the Scot murmurs, accent full of humor as he smirks over your head at Jax.
“Oh?” The president says, and his hand slips from your lower back to your hip, where he gently shoves you into his brother's chest. You grunt, but Chibs just grins and sets his beer away so that he can grip your waist with both hands and loom over you. “That right, baby?”
You pout at both of them, but then break immediately, cheeks going pink as you laugh, unrepentant.
“Maybe just a little,” you say and tug at the zipper of Chibs’ kutte, fixing the leather over his shoulders, “Can't have anyone thinking that they've got some kinda chance.”
They both snicker at you before Chibs shifts and catches your chin in a scarred hand, tilting your face up so that he can kiss you gently, “We’re yers, ye possessive beastie.”
You sigh into the kiss and drag him into another right after he stops calling you names, licking into his mouth while Jax crowds in from behind with a low sound of pleasured interest. His hands slide down your back to cup your ass through your jeans, and you feel the blonde grin against your hair when he squeezes his hands, massaging the thick globes of your cheeks.
“Oi,” Tig grouches from his spot on the couch when he sees the three of you tangled up in the corner, “Injured one over here. I demand attention.”
You laugh as you break your kiss with Chibs, and you hear the other two scoff, their hands staying right where they were.
“You’ve had her all night, Tig,” Jax called back, and then bends, his lips finding the smooth arch of your neck. Your eyes flutter with pleasure, and Chibs hums, one hand inching up the front of your shirt to splay his hand over your soft stomach. He slides it up. Fingers ghosting just under the curve of your breast, nails picking at your bra.
“Aye,” Chibs drawls and snags your lips in a quick kiss again, “Learn ta share, brother.”
-----
Your favorite days, however, are the ones where the four of you can just…be.
It’s the weekend, and the boys have taken over your apartment like usual. The atmosphere is heavy in a lax, slow way. It was hot outside, and none of you felt like venturing out just to be soaked with sweat within the first couple of minutes. Tig and Chibs shared the couch, both nursing beers and watching some fake crime show that you listened to them commentate on with half an ear.
You sat with Jax in the recliner, dressed in a pair of lounge shorts and one of their shirts that had SAMCRO stamped across the back of it like a brand. His arm was wrapped around your waist, your face tucked under his chin while he scrolled his phone with his free hand, eyes heavy-lidded as he watched you and his brothers. It wasn’t often that they were able to indulge like this, and Jax wanted to make sure that it stayed that way for as long as possible.
He feels you shift in his lap and immediately makes room for whatever you were doing, watching you with soft blue eyes. Jax knew that his relationship with you was the exact opposite of traditional, but the four of you made it work, and that was all he cared about.
“Tired, baby?” He asks, voice low so as not to bother the others. He watches you shake your head and shift again, your legs sliding to bracket his hips as you face him. The blonde is interested very quickly, his hands landing on your hips and squeezing. He gently tugs you forward and then kisses you, the embrace soft and sweet, but not short of passion.
One hand smooths up your back, fingers tangling in your hair as he angles you to deepen the kiss, his tongue dipping past your lips to stroke your own, slick muscles twining together in a wet dance of spit. You shift, sitting up on your knees so that you can bury your hands in Jax’s hair, fingers tight in the blonde strands.
His other hand cups between your thighs, and he groans at the heat he finds waiting for him there. Jax’s lips curl into a grin when he presses further, fingers sliding under your baggy shorts to stroke over slick-soaked panties. You huff into the kiss, brow furrowing as you sigh at the exploratory touch.
“Oh,” Tig rumbles from the couch, “Chibs, look. A show just for us.”
They watch your face contort in pleasure, teeth digging into your lower lip when you break the kiss to groan. Jax’s fingers had wiggled past the barrier of your underwear, stroking folds sticky with arousal. He circles your entrance, a rough laugh escaping his throat when his teasing makes you leak all over his hand.
“Fuckin’ soaked already,” He rumbles and smirks at the other two, extracting his hand so that they can see shiny, slick stringing between his fingers. Jax brings his fingers to his lips and sucks them in his mouth, tongue swirling to clean them off as he meets your eyes.
“Taste better every time, doll.”
You make a rough sound when Jax suddenly moves. His forearms slide under your thighs, and he stands, lifting you with him as he turns and lopes to your bedroom. He kicks the door open, and you grunt when he tosses you on the bed. Tig and Chibs have already appeared, their eyes dark with growing arousal as you stare up at the three of them.
“Been a couple of weeks since we all three had you, kitten,” Tig murmurs and slinks forward, one hand sliding into your hair and gripping tight, “You want that again?”
A low whine escapes your throat at the harsh treatment, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. He tugs your head back, angling your chin up to look at him while he smirks down at you, “Stuff all those pretty holes you have.”
A ragged breath left one of the others, and when you look past Tig, Chibs looks near feral, his eyes blown with lust and memories of the last time they had you like that. He lopes forward, His thumb sweeping over your bottom lip when Tig tugs your hair to angle you at the other man.
“Looked like a god damn temptation,” Chibs rasps, “You leaked us for days, lass.”
“And she will again,” Jax says as he appears on the other side. You feel like a rabbit surrounded by a pack of vicious wolves, all ready and salivating for just one bite.
“Ain’t that right, mama?”
Sex with all three of them is always a filthy, filthy series of events. Hands everywhere, your focus on who is who absolutely destroyed, and so much fucking pleasure that it teases on the edge of pain. You lie over Jax, brow sweaty and hands clenched in the sheets as he grinds up into you, cock thick and dragging over sensitive nerves that make stars flash behind your eyelids. A mix of drool and precum drips from your lips, cheeks hallowed and lips stretched taut around the cock in your mouth.
“Tha’s it, lass,” Chibs rumbles and hisses when you swallow around him. His hand tightens in your hair, holding you still as he shoves forward, cock bruising the back of your throat. You gag, tears welling and streaming down your cheeks to mix with the mess that’s already there.
Behind you, Tig’s eyes are locked on the way your ass takes his lube-slicked fingers as he works you open. He drops forward, pressing wet kisses to your spine, grinning when you whine and arch under him. His fingers scissor and circle, dragging over velvety walls as he preps you.
“Gotta open you up good, ma,” Tig purrs filth in your ears, lips dragging over your flesh with every word, “You know how big I am.”
You make a muffled whine, eyes rolling when Jax suddenly snaps his hips up and forces Tig’s fingers to slide deeper inside of you. You clench, shuddering and quaking between the three of them as they use you for their own pleasure.
Tig eventually eases off and then shifts, taking his cock in hand and dragging it over your lube-soaked hole with a grin. The sounds in the room are like music to his ears, and Tig relishes the muffled moan you make when he nudges forward and slides the tip inside.
“Fuck,” Jax hisses, and his head falls back, brow furrowed as the added pressure makes your cunt squelch and tighten around his dick, “Feels like fucking heaven, baby.”
Chibs locks onto the way Tig begins to work his way inside, his mouth watering when he watches your body stretch to accommodate the biggest of the three of them.
“Tha’ feel good, sweet girl?” He purrs above you and slows his snapping pace into slow rolls of his hips, choking you with his prick, “Arse stretched around Tiggy’s cock?”
You garble around his cock, drool falling in great globs from your chin, hitting Jax in the chest where he lies under you. He laughs and scoops the mess up in his fingers before pressing it back up and smearing it around your lips, swollen and tight around Chibs.
“Don’t waste, baby,” He coos meanly, “You know better than that, Ma.”
You are gone, fucked dumb, and raw between the three of them. Your thoughts circle around nothing but the feel of them, each moving, using you. It was degrading and demeaning, but it was the best fucking feeling in the world to be stuck between the three of them.
“Gettin’ close, love,” Chibs warned you, voice tight as that edge grew closer and closer. His hips stuttered when your throat worked him, and he cut his eyes down at Jax, “Where do ye want it, Prez?”
Jax grunts, face red and glistening with sweat, hips a steady rhythm as he fucks you, cunt sucking him in over and over. He laughs when the question registers, lips curling into a smirk.
“Paint that pretty face, Chibs,” he rasps and hisses when his words cause your pussy to leak even more, gummy walls dragging him closer to the edge, “We can help clean her up afterwards.”
“Fuck,” Tig snarls, and your entire body jars with his next thrusts, balls smacking the thick fat of your ass, “Not fucking fair. You know I love cleaning her up.”
Jax snickers, a ragged sound cutting through the laughter when your nails dig into the muscles of his arms. He smirks up at you, meeting watery eyes that didn’t hold a fucking thought.
“Fucking animal,” Chibs growls above you and grits his teeth. He tightens his grip on your hair, holding you firm while his free hand fists his cock tightly, brow furrowing as he curses and slides free of your mouth.
Hot spurts of cum splash you in the face, landing across your forehead and over the bridge of your nose. More hits your cheek and then your lips, sliding down to pool in your mouth. You swallow the load and then lick your lips, eyes clenched shut as you search for more. Chibs laughs and scoops up his spend, feeding it to you bit by bit, watching as your pretty tongue licks it up like it’s the best tasting thing in the world.
“Chibs,” Tig whines from behind, and the Scot takes pity on the other man, fingers dragging through the mess of cum and drool before pressing the sticky mess against his lips. Tig groans and laps it up, cock twitching where it’s buried in your ass.
The sight makes Jax swear, hands clenching around your hips as that tension snaps and he comes with a low snarl of your name on his lips. You whine at the feel of his cum filling your cunt, walls quivering and cunt pulsing as you clench and cream around his dick, body shuddering as you come for the umpteenth time that evening. You breathe heavy, eyes still clenched shut, and mouth full of cum. You sag down, brow pressing against Jax’s chest while Tig whines and ruts into you from behind.
Tig grunts around Chibs’ fingers as he comes, drool sliding past his lips to splatter across your back, his hips stuttering as he empties himself inside of you. Chibs wipes his hand on the sheets, and the hand in your hair softens, petting you instead of restraining.
“You okay, love?” He rumbles and cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb just under your eye.
“...Can’t see,” You rasp, voice wrecked from taking his cock, “Please clean me.”
Jax laughs softly and shoves at Tig with his food, “Come on, man. You’re crushing us.”
Tig groans and reluctantly extracts himself, whining again when he pulls out. His hand grasps your cheek and spreads you open, and Tig watches his spend leak sluggishly from your puckered hole. Below that, the mess from Jax stubbornly clings to puffy folds, and Tig grins as he swipes his fingers through both, gathering the sticky mess on his fingers before he shoves it in your mouth.
You hum and curl your tongue around his fingers, cleaning his digits without a thought, body still loose and pliant between the three of them. Tig backs off after that, sliding off the bed to escape to the bathroom and gather a couple of damp rags.
Chibs helps you rise from Jax, big hands steady on your body when Tig comes back to clean you up. You hiss against Jax’s chest when the lukewarm water meets your cunt, body recouping after the thrashing the boys left you with.
“You did so good for us, baby,” Jax coos in your ear and cups your cheek, leaning up to press his lips to your brow, lingering there for a long moment, “Are you okay?”
You nod after a moment, eyes heavy with exhaustion. You know that you’ll be sore to the point of immobilization after all the aches and pains settle in. You twitch and roll off of Jax now that you are clean, groaning when you curl up on your side, and it makes pain twitch up your spine from your backside.
“I thought we agreed that Tig’s too big?” You rasp and send them all looks of betrayal. Only Chibs has the decency to look even the slightest bit apologetic; Tig just grins, smug, while Jax shrugs one shoulder, trailing the tips of his fingers along your back.
“I wanted it,” Tig rumbles and crawls up the bed. He settles in behind you, tossing an arm around your waist as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, “Wanted that tight little ass around my cock. Don’t tell me it was too much for you, sweetheart.”
Jax scoots up the bed and rests against the headboard, taking the offered cigarette when Chibs taps one out where he has taken up space at the end of the bed. Jax sits back, one arm behind his head, toned body on display, and takes a long drag, the cherry glowing bright.
“No,” You grumble and roll so that you can bury your face in Tig’s chest. Chibs wraps a hand around your ankle, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your flesh, “Some warning next time would be nice, though.”
Tig just huffs and kisses the top of your head, rolling his eyes as the other two snicker at your pouty behavior.
“You love us,” Jax teases from her perch and nudges you with a foot, lips twisted up in a smirk, “Admit it, baby.”
You sigh heavily and roll back to your back, eyes meandering from Jax to Chibs to Tig before you huff and smile, eyes soft with affection.
“Yeah,” you murmur, and smile when Tig buries closer, “Yeah, I do love you guys.”
Here you go! If you haven’t read the first one, this won’t make much sense yet. Read Lost Princessa or search for #masterlist on my blog.
This picks up about a week after the accident. Megan and our favorite Mayans have a new adventure ahead of them that involves Charming.
There will be warnings on each chapter. This is not intended for audiences under the age of 18. I never know what I’m going to end up writing so let’s get that out of the way right now. If you’re under 18 - scram.
Enjoy and be responsible for your own media consumption.
Tagging a few people who might be interested. @drabbles-mc @jemmakates @iamthegraham @delightfulheroshoeflap @xeniarocks (it won’t let me tag you for some reason)
@maysdigitalarts did these banners a long time ago and put them out there for people to use. I just found where I had saved this one to use in my next fic, but it won’t let me tag them. They may have changed blogs.
Also- please feel free to use this as inspiration for whatever medium of art you do. If you do fan art or moodboards, please feel free. I’d love to see what everyone else sees when they read my work.
Ok. Here's another one. Let me know what you think, but don't steal my shit. I'm hanging on to this by the skin of my teeth and it's about to be my SUPER busy season as Ren Faire starts Saturday. Actually this was formatted to procrastinate doing faire laundry. If anyone's interested in seeing faire outfits/updates let me know. It's just 5 weeks.
Warnings: International arms deal (not specific... but that's what it is after all). Talk of guns. Talk of knives. Cussing. All my normal shit.
As the lead motorcycle killed its engine, Megan shifted to stand more on her own so that Hank could stand up straight. Bishop and Taza glanced at her approvingly before shifting so that they were obviously at the front of the Mayans group. Surprisingly, Happy stayed with the Mayans rather than joining his own club.
Chibs dismounted and came forward with Tig to greet Bishop. "Good mornin'. Thank ya for understandin' the change in meet up."
Bishop shook hands with both men. "Of course. We took the precautions we discussed at the last meeting as well."
"Little Bit get anything new?" Tig asked.
Taza answered. "Nah. Nothing this morning and she left the phone at the lodge."
"Good." Chibs smiled at Megan over Bishop's shoulder. "Alright today, Lass? Not too sore?"
Megan grinned and stepped forward to greet Chibs with Rex faithfully heeled. "I'm alright. A warm shower and full night's sleep and I'm right as rain."
"Good Lass. Got some people here who are eager to meet ya'." Chibs winked. "Give 'em hell."
Six men in suits stepped out of the hummer and waited to be introduced.
Chibs sighed and nodded to Bishop and Taza. "Let's get this show on the road."
He turned and led the way back towards the car. Bishop and Taza followed with Megan and Hank right behind them.
Three of the Irish men stepped forward. Megan could clock the shoulder holsters on all three as well as the heavier obvious fire power on the three that stood back with their eyes roaming the bikers around them.
Chibs introduced each man as he stepped forward to shake hands with Bishop and Taza. First was Declan Brogan. He was very obviously going to be the point of contact for the club for future gun deals. Leo Ryan and Peter O 'Leary were also present, but after introductions they stood back and let Brogan take the lead.
"The infamous Obispo. Nice to finally meet the man that Marcus Alvarez trusts so highly." He smiled a charming smile at the group, but his eyes lingered on Megan. "And this must be the Armorer we've heard about. Glad you finally added a little beauty to your club's ranks."
Bishop nodded. "This is my god daughter, Megan."
Brogan stepped forward as if to shake Megan's hand only to be greeted by a deep, rumbling growl from Rex. "And what's this? A dog?"
Taza answered. "My daughter's service and protection dog. I'm afraid he doesn't like when strangers approach her. It'll take time before he'll allow you near her. A reasonable precaution. I'm sure you understand."
Megan nodded politely but didn't offer to introduce the Irish man to Rex. It was very obvious to her that her Papa didn't want this man to have free access to approach her.
"Of course. I understand that there was an... altercation... recently that made her extra protection necessary,” Brogan replied, never taking his eyes from Megan.
She was suddenly very glad that her Kutte was zipped up- giving her her full bulky Kevlar and not really showing much of her figure.
"Yes. There was," Bishop said flatly.
The Irish man finally looked away from Megan with another charming smile as he spread his hands wide in a gesture that was probably supposed to be disarming. "But I understand that Megan is also the reason that we are even meeting today."
"Tha's right. Tha’ Lass has led the way to make this hand off happen," Chibs said.
"Then, please, let's talk business..."
The men all began to discuss shipping schedules and details for a while while Megan stood listening. Occasionally, she would chime in with a small detail that the men were skipping over, but she basically stood back and watched. When it came time to discuss the kinds and numbers of guns that the Mayans would be selling is when Megan began to shine. She caught discrepancies twice in what the Irish were currently sending to the SOA shipments. She didn't allow them to try to raise the prices that they would have to pay the Irish either. She'd been very careful to go over all the current shipment details with the Sons before this meeting.
Only once did Brogan try to belittle her- when it came to the distinction between two different kinds of semi-automatic pistols. Megan's eyes narrowed as she corrected the man who was trying to sell the cheaper gun at a premium.
The Irish man chuckled and agreed with Megan's correction. "Ah- your Armorer knows this game well. Good. Maybe she can get the buyers to play nicer than the Sons’ current liaison, huh?"
Bishop smirked. "I'm sure she'll manage. At least they'll mostly all survive a meeting with her- mostly."
Megan snorted as she realized that Happy was the Sons liaison currently.
The meeting stretched long enough for Megan's fingers and toes to start feeling the chill even through the thick socks and woolen gloves she was wearing. Most of the men had gone back to propping themselves on their bikes while the shot callers negotiated.
Finally, Bishop, Chibs and Brogan shook hands on a fair deal. The guns would ship in six weeks. Chibs would oversee the first shipment or so just to aid in the transition before it would all be Megan's responsibility.
Before he got back into his fancy hummer, Brogan took another long look at Megan. When he spoke, it was to Bishop and Chibs though. "I'm so glad to see your clubs joining us in the twenty-first century. Competence is to be admired- no matter the gender of the one performing the task. Your club princess is impressive. I will relay that fact to our council. Perhaps we will seal our new alliance in the oldest way one day soon."
Bishop's face turned dark. "I believe you misunderstood my god daughter's position. She is an officer in her own right. Not a bargaining chip. Besides- la princessa already has a caballero. Unless she chooses another, that will not change."
Megan stepped back to Hank's side and the protective arm that he offered her.
"Ah. Well, one never knows. The possibility is still there. She would make an impressive match for a few of our ranking members." The Irish man said with a smirk. "Besides, she may find what we offer more tempting than you think, my friend."
All of the men colored with temper and started to jump to Megan's defense at the same time, only to fall silent when Megan spoke on her own.
"Mr. Brogan, you are obviously very well acquainted with the public information about me. You may even know some of the actual truth. What you seem to misunderstand about our club though is simple- we are not an army and none of us are soldiers to take anyone's orders. Not anymore. We are very different even from our club allies because we are something they are not. We are Mayans. We are family. And as Mayans, every member has their own say in every decision." Megan paused to pet Rex and calm him from his alert posture at her tone. "You seem to think I am little more than a very competent doll to be ordered by my godfathers or my father. You are wrong." She paused again to make firm eye contact with Brogan. "I am Megan Morales, Armorer for the Santo Padre charter of the Mayans Motorcycle Club. God daughter to El Padrino and El Presidente. Daughter to el Vice presidente. And reina to my caballero who is also pacificador. I am not- and never will be- a bargaining chip. I am la Princessa de los Mayas and that means I will never be controlled. Not again."
Hank smiled down at Megan with pride as she straightened her shoulders. The rest of the club came to stand at their backs, making the Irish body guards a little nervous.
Megan held eye contact with Brogan until he broke it. He fussed briefly with the button on his expensive woolen over coat as he nodded. Bishop had the proudest smile on his face that turned into a shit eating smirk when Brogan awkwardly turned back to the presidents standing next to them. "Any more questions about la princessa's rank?"
Brogan cleared his throat. "I don't believe so. We'll be in touch with our chosen liaison from our side very soon." He nodded politely before turning on his heel to rejoin the other kings in the Hummer. Once they were all loaded, they left- without their SOA escort.
As soon as they were out of sight Megan wilted against Hank's side as all the men whooped and laughed around her.
Hank kissed her firmly before pulling back to look her in the eyes. "That's my girl."
"God damn, Little Bit. Didn't know you had a speech like that in you!" Tig said with a laugh.
Taza hugged Megan tightly before passing her to Bishop. Her godfather chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Well done, Poquito. I'm proud of you. I only wish your Tío Marcus could have heard that speech."
Megan felt her face heating quickly. "I couldn't let him get away with that..."
Chibs laughed. "No Lass. You couldna'. You did exactly right."
Happy nodded. "Time to get Little Girl outta the cold..." he rumbled.
Hank gently chafed her cold fingers through the gloves and nodded as he tucked her cold hands inside his jacket. Chibs smirked at his SAA but quickly agreed. "Righ’! Back to the clubhouse, I think. We can celebrate there."
Megan loaded Rex into the van and pressed a kiss between his ears before joining Hank by the bike. He handed her her helmet and let her settle it before fastening her chin strap for her.
Back at the Sons clubhouse the mood was jubilant. Everyone was excited about the success of the meeting with the Kings. Drinks were flowing and it was quickly looking like another full blown party was going to break out. Megan found herself back on the couch nearest the heater with a cup of tea in her hand and Rex across her feet. Hank kept himself between her and the most rowdy celebrants.
Chibs had claimed his normal bar stool and bottle of Jamison. After a round of shots and a beer, Bishop joined him.
"Brotha' we finally did it. Jackie-boy would be proud," Chibs said as he poured Bishop two fingers of whiskey.
"Yes he would. El Padrino called to check-in and I relayed the news to him." Bishop accepted the drink with a small smile.
"Did ya tell him about the Little Lass?" Chibs asked with a chuckle.
"You know it. He was jealous as hell that he missed that speech from Poquito. He said he'd call her later to tell her himself."
Chibs chuckled. "So Marcus pausin' his patch won't affect much?"
Bishop sipped his drink before answering. "Not about family. He won't always be privy to club business, but this was different. This was personal for him. He respected Jax. He liked him. This was Teller's final wish and Marcus deserved to know that it was finally really fulfilled."
Chibs nodded again. "I agree." He chuckled as he noticed that Happy was keeping an eye on Megan from across the room. He subtly pointed it out to Bishop. "Now tha’- tha’ I never woulda thought I'd see."
Bishop smiled. “Poquito has a way of surprising us all with where she makes her friends." He nodded at his own men. "They all change around her too. She makes our club better just by being herself."
"How's Chuckie like the Lass?"
That made Bishop laugh out loud. "I think he would willingly let her cut off his remaining fingers if she asked." He turned to put his back against the bar and leaned his elbows back on it. "She's our bartender when we're home and she's whole. She changed everything about how the bar paperwork is done to take some of it off of Chuckie's plate. Said inventory should be a prospect or bartender job so that he could focus on the scrapyard more."
Chibs laughed out loud. "Fuck. When did she do that?"
"Less than two days after she started work."
Chibs offered his glass to Bishop in a toast. "Here's to the Little Lass and all her sass."
Bishop tapped Chib's glass with his own "Amen, Brother. Amen."
Hank smiled as he saw Megan beginning to relax at a party. Each of his brothers had made it a point to check in with their Armorer. They wanted to be sure that she had everything she needed, but also that they were there to back her up if she got anxious. He could feel Happy's gaze as well. That particular relationship surprised the hell out of him, but he didn't regret it. He caught the bald biker's eye and nodded at him to let him know that Megan was okay. He received a nod in return.
"Hey Ma, you good?" Coco asked as he approached.
Megan smiled and that made Hank grin.
"I'm good, Coco." Megan giggled and shifted to remove a few layers. She'd lost the leather jacket under her kutte right when they arrived, but now she was ready to remove her hoody too- leaving her to put her kutte on over her bandshirt.
"Good." The sniper sipped his beer. "I think the big wigs are gettin' ready to order food. Want me to tell them your order?"
"Where are they ordering from?" Hank asked curiously.
"I think pizza- that was what Trager said anyways."
Megan smiled, "I'm not picky as long as there's no pineapple."
Coco made an unamused face, but nodded. "I'll let 'em know." He turned and wandered off as Megan started scratching Rex's ears.
It wasn't long before the food arrived, and with it- the crow eaters and hang arounds. Megan moved to the bar near where Chibs, Bishop and Taza were deep in a rather boisterous conversation while Hank went to get them plates. She was intent on listening to her Tío's story about his first prospect when the stool she was sitting on vibrated from Rex's deep growl.
A man had approached from behind Megan that she didn't recognize. He wasn't wearing a kutte and he was just a little too clean cut to be a biker. Megan gripped Rex's collar in her good hand but didn't shush him.
"I mean ya' no harm," the man said in a rougher version of Brogan's accent. He raised both hands, palms out to prove it.
"Maybe not, but I don't do well with strangers," Megan said firmly.
Taza and Bishop had both taken notice of the newcomer and tensed- ready to come to her rescue. Hank had also noticed, but when Bishop caught his eye and shook his head, he remained the short distance away that was the other side of the U-shaped bar.
"Aye. We noticed. I'm just here to deliver a message and a gift for the princess. Ryan and O'Leary were impressed with how you handled Brogan today. They sent me to give you this…” He pulled a small package from his pocket and offered it to Megan.
Megan looked to Taza and Bishop for guidance.
When her father tilted his head at her questioningly- she nodded without releasing Rex’s collar. He took the package from the IRA messenger and opened it. Inside was a medallion with a red cross surrounded by a circle on it.
Megan knew they couldn't afford to piss off the Irish, but she also wasn't going to declare herself for their cause by wearing their symbol. "What's the significance of it?" she asked the man who still hadn't given his name.
"That trinket declares you anally to the cause. Show it to any of our members and they'll aid you in whatever way they can." He grinned a little. "Makes a nice keychain as well."
Megan nodded. "Thank them for me. Hopefully- I'll never need it."
"Aye. Enjoy your night, Princess. You've earned it." The Irishman gave a friendly nod before he headed out of the bar.
Megan released Rex and sighed. "Another marker?"
Bishop and Taza shook their heads but Bishop answered her. "Not one you'll carry, Poquito. Too dangerous. It links you to what is basically a terrorist organization."
Taza agreed. "That symbol alone is contraband and you..."
"Don't ever handle contraband," Megan finished with him.
"Good girl," he said with a smile.
"So -what do we do with it?" Megan asked.
Chibs chuckled. "Like the lad said- it makes a good keychain." He indicated a set of keys that were obviously the ones to the clubhouse door on a hook on the wall near him. "If it's club property- no one can tie it to a single member." He pulled the keys down and showed them the matching medallion on them.
Bishop nodded. "Good plan. Let's put it on the van keys for now. Club owns the van. They already know we have Irish friends. Can't hurt."
Hank arrived with their plates and Tig trailing behind him. "That looked tense. You okay, mi amore?"
Megan stopped scratching Rex to take her plate and smile. "I'm fine. Just a gift from the Irish."
Tig raised his eyebrows. "Already? For the club or for you, Little Bit?"
"The gift was addressed to Megan- but not something she's allowed to touch," Bishop said.
Tig whistled through his teeth softly. "Irish rarely mark a single person- it's usually an organization..." He looked at Chibs questioningly.
"It's an individual marker from two of the kings. Tha' lass was impressive," Chibs said, sipping his whiskey.
"Speaking of- we've got an Oakland Mayan outside with a box for Little Bit. Says it's from Alvarez- but I thought he'd paused his patch..." Tig said.
Bishop chuckled. "He did- but he'll always be El Padrino. It's probably one of his guys doing him a favor." He stood. "I'll go talk to him." He grinned. "Eat your dinner, Poquito."
Megan smiled and obediently took a bite of pizza.
Just as the SAMCRO prospect put a bottle of coke down in front of Megan, Bishop returned with a large box. He put it on the barstool next to her and grinned. "Your Tío Marcus sends his love and asks that you call Tessa soon because she's nervous about the move. There's a note inside too."
Megan carefully wiped the pizza grease off her fingers and pulled one of the Irish fighting knives from her belt to cut the tape holding the box closed. She pulled back the flaps and burst into giggles. The box was full of other boxes of Doc Martens in her size. She counted 4 boxes on top and at least one more layer beneath that. She found the note and cracked it open. "Bebita-" she read out loud. "Told you you needed options. Your prima insisted you needed the glitter ones to match her. A gift for a true Princessa de los Mayas. You did us proud today."
Hank chuckled. "Guess she aced that science test, huh."
Megan laughed again. "Guess so." She found the glitter Docs in the first box she opened and smiled. They were a glittery black. In the other boxes she found other designs. Some with embroidered roses. Some with oil slick rainbows. They just went on and on making her laugh a little.
Taza grinned too. "He did warn you, Chica."
Chibs smiled and sipped his whiskey as he noticed how comfortable Megan was using his gift.
Happy slouched his way to the bar for another refill on his beer just in time for Megan to pull out a pair of Docs that were black with yellow smiley faces embroidered on the ankles. She immediately turned. "Look, Happy." She smiled at him. "Tío Marcus bought me happy face Docs."
The corner of the stoic man's mouth twitched. He nodded and leaned on the bar next to her scratching Rex's ears. "Looks good, Little Girl."
Megan smiled brightly at him again and turned back to pull out the last pair.
Chibs chuckled." Tha' lass is so easily pleased."
Happy nodded again. "She's happy."
Chibs agreed silently and refilled his glass. "Do ya think she's got the skills for this life, Hap?"
Happy shrugged. "She's good with guns. Knives too."
"But she's so innocent..."
Happy snorted. "Hardly. She was a bought and sold sex slave. Her ex-husband tried to kill her. Like a lot." He sipped his beer. "She's got good instincts. She's just comfortable here."
Chibs watched Megan carefully. "Still a hard life."
The Tacoma Killer shrugged again. "Easier with family."
"Aye. An tha' lass isn’a short of that for sure." His scarred check lifted in a small smile. He watched Happy out of the corner of his eye. "Ya know- Packer's asked for someone from tha’ mother charter for a bit. Ya could do it. Put ya close enough to teach the lass a bit..."
Happy watched as Creeper carried Megan's haul out to the van while she went back to eating and joking with Hank, Taza, and Bishop. "SAMDINO. What's Packer need?"
"He didna' say. Just requested an officer of SAMCRO on loan."
Happy nodded. "I'm in."
"Good. You can ride back with the Mayans part way." Chibs smirked. "Keep an eye on that Lass."
The long day started to wear on Megan early and she retired to a couch in a corner with Hank and Rex where it was quieter. The party raged on, but no one got stupid drunk except a few Sons prospects. Megan cuddled against Hank's side and rested.
"Are you exhausted, mi reina? We can head back to the lodge." Hank stroked up and down the skin of her arm as her head rested on his chest.
Megan smiled and closed her eyes. "It's been a long day."
"Yes it has. A successful one, but a long one." He kissed her braids softly. "We'll probably head out tomorrow after lunch. Drive halfway back."
Megan nodded. "Which puts me back in the van..."
"No, mi amore. We're borrowing the jeep. The Reaper will pick it up on their next run down."
"Really?" Megan asked, looking up at him from his chest.
"Yeah. And I can always load my bike in the van to ride with you too." He kissed her forehead with a smile. "Your Reaper friend doesn't really think you should be riding the bike long distance in this weather."
Megan giggled. "He was rather upset when we got here."
Hank chuckled. "That's alright. He'll learn like everyone else that you're tougher than you look." He glanced at where the Tacoma Killer sat with his back against a wall. "Did Taza tell you he's coming with us for this drive? He's going to be on loan to SAMDINO for a bit."
Megan lifted her head to get a better look at where Happy sat. "No. Papa hasn't had the chance." She giggled. "He's been dodging that one persistent crow eater all night so we haven't gotten to talk." She glanced around to find her father playing a game of cards with herTío Bishop, Chibs, and Tig. Said crow eater was hovering nearby trying to catch her father's eye while he was desperately looking at nothing past his cards.
Hank chuckled again. "True. He only told me while you went to the bathroom."
Megan snuggled back down with a yawn. "I like that Happy's going to be nearby for a bit. It will ease SAMCRO's minds to have a charter member within reach while we start this deal. Plus- Happy's been the contact for all the buyers recently. He can help us transition." She yawned again.
Hank smiled as he watched Megan fight to stay awake. "Alright, mi reina. I think we should head out before you get too tired to ride. We've only got the bike and van here. Let's see if Creep is ready to roll." Megan agreed and rubbed her eyes before standing up to find and put her layers back on. This late- the air would be even colder on the ride back.
After showers and changing into sweats, Megan curled close to Hank where he sat against the headboard sketching. She blinked heavy eyes and listened to the comforting scratch of his pencil. "Hank?"
"Yes, mi reina?"
"Do you have more tattoo ideas for me?"
He smiled and stroked her damp hair. "I always have tattoo ideas, mi amore. Is there something in particular you're thinking of?"
"Mmhm. Papa." She nuzzled close without opening her tired eyes.
Hank smiled. "What about your papa?"
"Want a tattoo for Papa."
He could hear her drifting to sleep in her voice. "Si, mi amore. I have a design for your Papa. Rest now. You can look in the morning." He leaned down to softly kiss her goodnight, but never got a reply as she was fast asleep.
Here you go! If you haven’t read the first one, this won’t make much sense yet. Read Lost Princessa or search for #masterlist on my blog.
This picks up about a week after the accident. Megan and our favorite Mayans have a new adventure ahead of them that involves Charming.
There will be warnings on each chapter. This is not intended for audiences under the age of 18. I never know what I’m going to end up writing so let’s get that out of the way right now. If you’re under 18 - scram.
Enjoy and be responsible for your own media consumption.
Tagging a few people who might be interested. @drabbles-mc @jemmakates @iamthegraham @delightfulheroshoeflap @xeniarocks (it won’t let me tag you for some reason)
@maysdigitalarts did these banners a long time ago and put them out there for people to use. I just found where I had saved this one to use in my next fic, but it won’t let me tag them. They may have changed blogs.
Also- please feel free to use this as inspiration for whatever medium of art you do. If you do fan art or moodboards, please feel free. I’d love to see what everyone else sees when they read my work.
Another bit of filler but it's about to get a little exciting. Plus a little more Happy Lowman fluff.
Don't steal my shit.
Warnings: talk of guns, Happy Lowman, enough fluff to make your teeth rot.
The next morning, Megan woke up to a text message from Taza. She reached for her phone from her warm spot snugged against Hank and giggled.
"Mm. What is it, mi amore? Hank asked without opening his eyes.
Megan put her phone down and cuddled back against him kissing his tattooed chest. "Seems like Happy followed the boys back here from the SOA clubhouse last night. Papa found him awake on the common room couch when he got up this morning."
Hank laughed. "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me in the least."
"Is it normal for him to stick this close to a visiting club?" she asked as he stroked up and down her spine through her pajama top.
"No, actually. Happy is usually the last resort if they want someone to keep an eye on visitors. He hates it."
"Then why..." Megan asked as she frowned.
"Because Happy likes you, mi princessa. He likes you and has kind of adopted you- like Coco or Creep. He doesn't like many people. But he does seem to like you." Hank smiled and kissed her hair.
"Oh," Megan said quietly. " Is that what the feather means?"
"Well- yes. It marks you as a friend of SAMCRO. Someone respected and backed by the mother charter of SOA. They took it to their table just like we did the princessa crowns. It helps that Chibs is also a bit attached to you. So is Venus- and by association Tig." He continued to pet down her back as she relaxed back into his arms. "Chibs described you as a bridge between our clubs."
"That seems like a lot of responsibility. I don't want to fuck up."
"You won't, mi reina. They love you in your own right. Just like our club does. Familia- just a little removed."
"Okay." He felt her smile against his skin before she pressed a kiss there. "I guess we should probably get up then. Breakfast needs made."
She began to wiggle her way to a position she could get up from only for Hank to tug her back deeper into the warm blankets- trapping her there beneath him. She laughed up at him and slid her hands up over his shoulders to play in his hair.
"Good morning, mi amore," he said before leaning down and kissing her deeply.
Megan enjoyed the kiss as she revelled in the safety of their little cocoon of warmth. When Hank finally pulled back, she smiled up at him. "Good morning, Hank."
He pecked a kiss to her nose. "We can take our time, mi reina. There's no groceries anyway. We'll either order breakfast in, or we'll go find a diner." He dropped down beside her again to snuggle. "Besides, it's not your job to feed the club."
Megan took the opportunity to run her fingers through his hair as they talked. "I know, but if someone doesn't- Coco will drink a beer and call it breakfast."
Hank snorted a laugh." I can't argue with that logic, mi princessa."
A knock at the door paused their conversation. Hank called out- "Yeah?"
Taza answered him through the door- "Prospect is going to pick up an order at the local diner in the van. I ordered for you. You've got about forty-five minutes before he gets back if la princessa wants to shower."
"Thank you, Papa. We'll be out in a bit," Megan called.
They heard him walk away.
Rex had been a very good boy, but he had to be ready to go out for the morning. He was stretching and looking towards the door.
"Alright, Princessa. Why don't you go get the shower started. I'll see if your Papa or Creeper will take the pooch out and then I'll come join you to help you wash your hair." Hank kissed her softly with a sigh of reluctance for facing the chill of the morning.
"You're sure? I can take Rex out..." Megan said.
"I'm sure, mi amore. I'd rather keep you out of the cold as much as possible." He smiled as he slid out of bed. "Go get the shower warmed up. You just had time to rinse the road dust off last night. I know your hair didn't get washed."
"Thank you." She smiled at him and slid out of the other side of the bed, grateful for the carpeted floors of their suite.
After their shower, they entered the common room with Megan's hair still wrapped in a towel to find Happy sitting in a chair in the corner nearest their room. He had a pistol disassembled and was cleaning it. Megan recognized it immediately as a Ruger LCR revolver.
She wandered over to get a closer look. "An LCR?" she asked. Happy grunted an affirmative before snapping the final pieces back into place. "Not exactly what I thought you'd carry." She smiled a little.
Happy moved his toothpick to the other side of his mouth before answering. "Back-up."
"Ahh. That makes more sense." She smiled at him as he slipped it into his ankle holster.
"You got one?" he asked as he pulled his pant leg down over his black boot.
Megan lifted her left pant leg to display her own ankle holster. "Since the crash..."
The bald biker nodded and adjusted his kutte as he sat back up.
Rex reappeared with Creeper and beelined to Megan. He promptly sat himself down on her left and nudged under her good hand for ear scratches. Megan giggled and obliged.
"Does he help?" Happy asked as he reached to pull his toothpick from his mouth.
Megan nodded. "A lot. He's really good for when Papa or Hank have to be gone. EZ got him registered as a Service Dog in training before we left so that no one can make me leave him anywhere."
The grunt Happy let out was nearly cheerful. "Good. Keep him close today."
Hank slipped up next to Megan with a cup of coffee for her. "What's happening today?"
Happy reached for his own black coffee on the table beside him. "Kings moved up the meeting since we've got Fed attention. They're coming here instead of meeting us at the pub like normal. Keeps the surveillance off."
Hank nodded. "Makes sense. Feds can't track on reservation land."
Megan leaned back against Hank for comfort. "Are they coming to the lodge?"
Bishop overheard her question from the bar area of the common room. "No Poquito. We're meeting them further in."
"How long?" she asked quietly.
"After breakfast, Chica,” Taza answered her. "We've got some time."
Megan glanced down at her dark wash jeans and t-shirt, noting that she'd want a hoody later. "Ok, Papa. Can you braid my hair before breakfast."
"Of course, Sweet Chica."
She gave Rex another good scratch before heading to get her hair stuff- dog in tow.
Hank smiled and settled himself into another arm chair near the reaper.
"She's better," Happy stated.
Hank nodded. "She is. She'll probably insist on riding the bike to the meet though." He sipped his coffee.
"Got Kevlar?" Happy grunted.
Bishop joined them with a chuckle. "Built into her kutte. Not just ride armor. Actual plates. Coco insisted after the VM."
"Good."
Hank sat forward and spoke quietly as Megan returned with her jewelry case and hair brush to meet Taza at the table. "Are you expecting trouble? You've been on edge since we arrived. Do you know something we don't?"
The bald biker went back to chewing his toothpick and shook his head. "Just cautious."
Bishop smiled a little. "Have you ever payed attention to Poquito when she's in the kitchen?"
Happy shook his head expressionlessly.
Bishop chuckled. "You might learn some knife skills if you did. She's more than a crack shot with a pistol."
Hank chuckled as well. "Ain't that the truth. La Princessa must have done most of the butchering of her own kills hunting."
Happy's eyebrows nearly met his head tattoos.
Hank nodded with a grin. "She may look fragile- and she is- but she's not fragile like a flower."
Coco overheard as he came out of the hallway leading to the bedrooms. "Nah. Ma ain't no flower. She's pure nitro." He chuckled and headed for the coffee pot.
Soon enough, Megan returned with her hair in twin braids. Taza had put her silver feather braid weights in, but he'd also threaded some of the feather charms from the reservation into the weaving of her hair. As she passed Coco at the coffee pot, he tugged gently on the braid nearest him to make her smile.
EZ returned with bags of takeout breakfast and began to hand them out. Megan accepted hers from him with a bit of of a tentative smile. EZ dropped his head and looked guilty as hell. "'m sorry about my attitude last night, Princessa. I shouldn't have taken my mood out on you. You didn't deserve it."
Megan's smile widened and she reached out to touch his wrist."It's alright, EZ."
He smiled that Reyes smile at her and nodded before going to eat his own meal.
After breakfast was eaten, Bishop indicated to everyone to hang around for a few minutes. They all settled on couches and chairs nearby with Happy on the outside edge. Once everyone was seated, Bishop caught their attention easily. "You all know why we're here. The Irish Kings want to meet the charter that will be the hub of the gun trade." He met all their eyes. "Don't do anything stupid. Three of the kings are here, but they brought their own people. Be careful who you're talking to- but don't let any Irish push us around either. They are True IRA- they respect strength and they respect competence." He sat forward in the armchair he was seated in. "This is also the first introduction of the position of armorer. They're likely to want to test Megan- to push a little." He glanced at where Megan was seated next to Hank on a couch before turning his eyes on the other members. "They may push to see what we'll allow to be said about her as well. Call out disrespect. Do it right, don't lose your head, and make sure they put some respect on her name and titles. They know we don't allow women to patch. They've pointed it out before as a club weakness. Megan just proves that we respect talent and competence no matter what."
The gathered bikers all nodded seriously.
Taza spoke out as well. "All the same, don't let them separate la princessa from the group. We protect our own and that doesn't change just because we're in business with them."
Bishop nodded in agreement. "Poquito-that falls on your shoulders as well. Stay with a patch- preferably one of your anchors- at all times." He looked to Hank. "I know traditionally you should be at my back at all times at a meet like this. Stay with Megan. Taza and I will watch each other's backs. Caballero before pacificador in this instance."
Hank nodded even as Megan protested. "Tío- no. Hank is pacificador. He should back you."
"He is- by backing you, Poquito. The IRA will expect you to have a handler- one with experience in the gun running."
Taza nodded. "Chibs says that they all go through mentorship in the army. It's how they advance."
Megan sighed. "Alright."
Bishop nodded. "Stay with Hank-"
Taza interrupted the president quickly "-and never touch any contraband- EVER."
"Yes, sir."
Happy's burner phone dinged and he checked it. "Kings are on the move."
"Alright. Let's go." Bishop stood. "Leave all personal phones behind. We're taking no chances."
Everyone put their personal phones on the table in the common room and reached for their jackets. Megan put Rex's harness on him as Hank went to get her a hoody to layer beneath her leather jacket and kutte. He helped her to slip into it before taking her jacket and kutte from Taza to get it on her as well.
"Where's your gun, Little Girl?" Happy growled. "Too many layers..."
Megan smiled at him and turned to lift her outer layers so that Happy could see the waist holster tucked into the back of her jeans. It also showed him her fixed blade knife on her belt. "I'm armed. Promise."
"Good girl," he grunted.
Bishop smirked a little. "Let's ride."
Deeper onto the reservation, they finally stopped at what looked like an open spot of desert like what they used for a shooting range. Creeper released Rex from the front seat before Megan was even fully off of Hank's Road King. She handed Hank her helmet to hang with his and smiled as she hooked his leash to his studded collar and tied the other end off to her belt.
The men spread out to wait. Hank propped himself on the seat of his bike to allow Megan to lean against him for warmth. He unzipped his leather jacket to tuck her closer and out of the wind.
Bishop and Taza joined them. "Alright there, Poquito?"
"Si, Tío. A little nervous, but I'll be alright."
"Good girl. Stick close. Be yourself."
"Yes, sir."
It wasn't very long before they could hear the roar of approaching motorcycles. All eyes turned to see the rest of the Sons of Anarchy escorting a blacked out hummer across the desert.
Happy joined the Mayans officers and spit a piece of toothpick out. "Here we go."
Another chapter- ish. Don't steal my shit. If you're still reading this, please reblog or comment something. I am more motivated to write when I know that there's someone looking forward to it. It means I'm doing more than screaming into the void.
It wasn't long before Hank and Happy returned with the promised stencil. "Here, mi princessa. Let's try this size."
Megan smiled and began to remove the layers she still wore until she was down to her band shirt. She laid her flannel and hoody across the bar and smiled as she offered her left arm.
Hank took her hand and kissed it before taking the offered transfer gel from Happy. He placed the stencil just below her elbow.
Megan's smile grew as she saw the purple ink on her skin.
Taza looked over her shoulder and smiled softly. "Your first club ink, Chica. Is it what you want?"
She looked up at him and he saw the absolute certainty in those brown eyes. She nodded. “Then it's perfect."
A few hours later, the tattoos were done and wrapped in plastic. Megan's left arm was marked with her very own symbol. On her right- a black feather to mark her as a club friend to SAMCRO. Halfway through the session, Happy had received a text message saying the Wahiwa Lodge was ready for its temporary inhabitants.
“Alright, Lass? Hank wasna ' jokin’ bout you takin' ink like a champ," Chibs grinned." An now yer proper ready for tonight."
Megan smiled at the Scot and leaned back against Hank as he came up behind her after a final hand wash. "What's tonight?"
Bishop grinned a little. "What else, Poquito? A party to welcome us to Charming town."
Taza laughed at the dismayed look on his daughter's face. "Let's get to the lodge and unpack a bit. Give la princessa some time to decompress- rest." He winked as he scratched Rex's ears. "A shower and change of clothes wouldn't hurt any of us."
The Wahiwa Reservation guest lodge was all theirs for the duration of their visit. That meant that, for once, everyone had their own rooms. Chibs and Happy had ridden along to make the introductions to the tribal elders as well as so Happy could see that the changes he'd required had been made.
Hank and Megan had a small suite next to the rooms designated for Bishop and Taza. A huge king sized bed- with a brand new mattress- as well as a large dog bed took up most of the room space.
Megan unpacked the three outfits she'd brought along on the run and stared at them in dismay. She'd packed as the Santo Padre Armorer. Sensible jeans, long sleeved shirts, and hoodies were all she had, along with her basic jewelry. She hadn't packed for a SAMCRO party. She groaned softly.
Hank paused in his own unpacking. "Everything good, mi princessa?" he asked from the other side of the bed.
She tried to smile for him. "Of course, Baby. Just... assessing my options for tonight."
Hank chuckled and came around to cuddle her back against his chest. "Not liking what you see, mi amore?"
"I didn't exactly pack 'party' clothes. I packed warm and practical, but not pretty."
He softly kissed the back of her hair. "I'm sorry Princessa. We could go see what we can find in town..."
She shook her head. "No time. Especially not if we're supposed to get there with Papa and Tío Bishop."
Hank looked over her clothes. "You know you don't have to dress up for this- right? You'll look beautiful in any of these." He squeezed her waist gently.
"You, sir, are biased." She smiled. "I know I can wear my normal clothes to the party. I just like to look my best when I'm dealing with new people." She turned in his hold with a giggle. "And I like when you can show me off a bit, too."
Hank pulled her into a kiss softly. "I can always show you off, mi reina. You could be in a paper sack and I'd think you shined brighter than the sun."
Megan took a deep breath and settled against his chest to relax for a moment.
A knock at the door broke them apart. Hank opened the door fully expecting it to be Taza standing there to see if Megan wanted her hair redone or Bishop letting them know about dinner plans before the party. Instead, Hank found the skinny SoA prospect standing nervously in the hallway with a large box and a bag.
"Excuse me- is Ms. Megan in this room?" he asked.
Hank grunted an affirmative and saw the relief flash across the kids face.
"Great. Ms. Venus sent me to deliver this to Ms. Megan since she says she knows she wasn't expecting a party." He offered Hank the items and looked ready to flee.
Megan stuck her head around Hank's broad form to smile at the prospect. "Thank you! I'll call her and tell her you delivered it, Prospect." He nodded hurriedly and squeaked out a "no problem" before he scurried away.
Hank shook his head and kicked the door gently closed before putting the gifts on their bed. "Are they sure that one's old enough to prospect?"
Megan laughed." Venus calls him Babyface all the time. He's their new one." She smiled softly as she shot off a text to Venus to thank her before even opening the box. Inside was a faux leather a-line dress with cap sleeves. The cut screamed innocent, but the black leather gave the piece some edge. The bag contained ballet flats and a new tube of mascara and an eyeliner pencil- both in black and waterproof.
Hank smiled as Megan laid it out on the bed. "That's going to look nice with your kutte, mi amore."
She smiled again and ran a finger down the bodice seam nearest her. "Yeah. I think so too."
They showered together with Hank gently cleaning her new tattoos for her while keeping her hair dry for the night. The plan was to put tegaderm on the bicep tattoo to keep it from rubbing too much. Her club ink would be kept uncovered. Hank preferred to keep it that way to aid healing. While Hank dressed himself, he kept an eye on Megan. He watched her slip into her bra and underwear. The soft cast allowed her much more independence than the sling had, but she still struggled with some things. Zippers were one of those things.
After doing her skincare, she slipped into the dress that the first Lady of SAMCRO had provided only to discover that the zipper was in the back and out of her reach.
Before she could ask, Hank paused in buttoning his red and black flannel to zip her dress for her- stroking the soft skin of her back. He pressed an open mouthed kiss to the side of her neck with a smile.
Megan smiled back over her shoulder at him. "How do you think I should wear my hair?" she asked.
Hank took her good hand and spun her dramatically to make her giggle and her skirt flare. Her loose hair spun with her. "You look perfect, mi reina. La Princessa de los Mayas."
"Will you help me with my jewelry when you get done getting ready?" she asked, wandering over to the mirror to line her top lids and put a coat of mascara on.
"Absolutely". He finished with his buttons and styled his hair as she slipped into the ballet flats.
Only once her crown necklace and pearl earrings were in place did Megan seem to breathe.
Hank shrugged into his own kutte before holding hers out to help her into it.
Out in the common room, Taza and Bishop waited for them so they could head back to TM for the party. The other members had gone on ahead.
"Well aren't you pretty. Poquito." Bishop grinned as he offered a hand for a spin. Megan took it allowing them to see the full effect of her gift. "Where'd you get the dress?"
Hank chuckled. "One guess, Bish. La Princessa has friends everywhere."
"Surely not Happy..." Taza said with a laugh.
Megan giggled. "No. Not Happy- this time. Venus came to my rescue."
"Well-don't count Happy out for the night just yet, Chica," her father laughed. "You're gonna want to thank him- again. He sent you a ride."
"A ride?" Megan asked. "I thought we were taking the bikes to TM."
"We are," said Bishop. "You- however- are riding in a jeep that T.O. just finished restoring- with or without your caballero." He grinned. "It's an automatic, so you can drive it yourself if you'd like."
Hank laughed. "He really doesn't like you getting cold apparently, mi amore."
Megan laughed and looked at Hank. "So are you riding or are you coming in the jeep with me and Rex?"
"I think I'll join you in the jeep, Princessa. That way my bike is here and not stuck at
T. M. when you get too tired to drive home."
A short drive later and they arrived at T.M. Happy sat on the picnic table outside sipping a beer and ignoring the croweater currently trying her best to get his attention. Megan smiled at him softly. "Hey Happy. Thank you for finding another vehicle besides the van for us to use here."
He grunted and smirked. "How's the ink?"
"Not too bad. Hank put Tegaderm on my feather so it wouldn't rub on my clothes." She tilted her right arm to show where he'd tattooed her mark.
The quiet man nodded and checked the seal on the clear bandage himself. "It'll do."
Hank chuckled and shook the man's hand. "Told ya she takes ink like a champ."
Happy only nodded and scratched Rex's ears before waving them on inside.
Inside Megan was hit with a wall of sound as voices and music mingled. Smoke from joints and cigarettes made it all the more disorienting for her. She wrapped her injured arm around Hank's forearm and reached for Rex's collar with her left.
"Easy, mi amore. I know it's a lot at first..." Hank soothed.
"Why are our parties so much calmer than SAMCRO's?" she asked quietly.
Taza appeared at her left with a bottle of water for her and chuckled. "They aren't. You're just always there from the beginning so it doesn't seem as rowdy."
She winced and nodded.
"If it gets to be too much, mi princessa, just let me know. We'll find somewhere quieter." Hank pressed a kiss to her hair and drew her close to his side.
By the time they made it to the bar to greet Chibs and Tig, Megan had settled into the noise a bit. It wasn't any worse than working the bars on Broadway in Nashville. She was just so used to the quiet of Santo Padre now that it took some adjusting.
"There's tha’ lass! Ya ' alright?" Chibs asked as he saluted her with his whiskey glass.
"I'm good, Chibs. Just a bit unaccustomed to the noise." She slid onto the bar stool Hank pulled out for her and leaned back against el pacificador.
"To be fair- these parties could raise the dead, Sugar," said Venus as she arrived at Tig's side. She grinned and offered Megan a hug. "I just knew that dress was perfect for you."
Megan took the hug happily. "Thank you for sending your prospect over with it. I only brought work clothes for this run- nothing for a party."
"I figured. Especially since you came down on the bike. Was the ride alright?" the older southern woman asked.
"It was fine. A little chilly, but nothing too extreme," Bishop answered as he took his own glass of whiskey from Chibs.
Venus raised one manicured eyebrow at Megan. "So, no issues?"
Megan winced. "You're as bad as Happy," she muttered. "I struggled a bit with the enclosed van. That's all. Nothing major."
The First Lady of SAMCRO gave an indelicate snort. "A little? Or a lot?"
Hank soothed Megan by running his hands down her biceps. "She found ways to cope. It wasn't fun, but we made it okay." He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her head.
"Alright. I'll leave off. Show me your ink," Venus smiled as she sipped a cocktail out of a dainty glass that looked comically out of place in the rough bar.
Glad for the change of subject, Megan turned her arms to show off her new art work.
As the night got later, Hank guided Megan to a couch in the corner for a breather. He waved their prospect down to ask EZ to make Megan a cup of tea and was a little shocked when EZ didn't immediately remember how Megan preferred it. He resolved again to check on the kid sooner rather than later.
When he returned his attention to his princessa, he found her frowning at her personal phone as she scratched Rex's ears. "What's wrong, mi amore?"
"You remember that weird text that I got on the drive up?" she asked.
Hank settled himself on the couch for her to lean on and nodded.
"I got another one..."
That brought a frown to his own face and he glanced around for Taza as he asked, "What's this one say?"
"’A full house is a stacked deck. Know when to fold…’" she replied.
"Fuck. Someone knows the Kings are state side and we're here to meet them."
"That's certainly what it sounds like. But no one should have this number. It's my personal." She handed him the phone to show him the number.
Hank saw EZ returning with Megan's tea. He took it distractedly and sent him back after Taza and Bishop.
Less than an hour later, Megan found herself sitting in the SoA version of an officer's templo. Chibs, Tig, and Happy were the only ones present for the home club, while the entire group of Mayans officers were present.
"Jaysus Christ- who could be trackin 'tha lass?" Chips asked.
Creeper rubbed his head and growled as he examined Megan's phone. "It's not firmware. It's not been bugged. It doesn't make any sense."
Taza nodded. "I bought that phone with cash even though I was attaching it to my plan. Bought it straight at the store- no outside tech handled it."
Happy grunted and chewed his toothpick. "Who's got the number?"
Megan counted them off on her fingers. "The club, Mama, Tía Diana, Tessa, Venus, Letty, and Happy. That's it."
Tig leaned back in his chair. "Only one explanation then- feds."
Bishop sighed. "Gotta be. Probably the ones Galindo is tied up with. They're the only ones with the pull to subpoena phone records. It's nothing for them to try to use your new arrival on the scene to their advantage."
Angel smoked quietly. "So is the phone safe to use?"
Chibs nodded. "Safe enough for personal use. Tha 'lass ain't exactly makin 'deals on her personal phone."
Megan wrinkled her nose. "Absolutely not. I barely use it outside the family. That's why I kept my burner."
"Right, Little Bit. Leave the fed hotline at the lodge while we're out handling business. They can't track it on Wahiwa land. Hell- we should probably all do that with the importance of this job," Tig said.
"I'll let the LO know that the feds have moved on from putting tails to possible phone taps on personals. She'll need to know." Angel was already sending a text on the LO burner phone.
"Of course she will. And, Sweet Chica, they can't connect you to a single thing. Just- ignore messages except for telling us about them, alright?" Taza said smiling gently at her. "We've got you covered."
Tig frowned. "The Kings know they're constantly followed and monitored on U.S. soil. This shouldn't do more than maybe hurry things along at this point."
Chibs nodded. "Alright then. Let's let Hank take the lass to bed for the night. We'll contact the Kings and let them know what's doin 'and keep everyone updated- on the burners." He smiled at Megan. "Go sleep. Yer done in."
Megan smiled back at the Scot before standing to kiss his cheek. Hank slid his arm around her waist and let her say her good nights to the other reapers as the party outside raged on.
"I'm gonna hang back and make sure our guys remember we're here to work ," Creep said as the younger Mayans rejoined the party.
" 'Preciate it," Bishop said as he tossed his beer bottle on the way out the door. Taza joined him as they wrapped up for the ride home.
"Headed out?" Venus asked, as she appeared at Megan's side with her leather jacket for her. "Good. Get some rest and we'll see what plans are for tomorrow so we can plan lunch."
Megan hugged the older woman tightly. "OK. Night Venus. I may be slow to answer texts for the next few days, but I'll try to answer."
"That's alright, Sugar. You've got plenty goin 'on. We'll get some girl time before you leave." She straightened Megan's jacket collar and grinned up at Hank. "Take care of her, Tranq."
"Yes ma 'am," he answered as he guided Megan to the borrowed jeep and loaded Rex in the back.
Another chapter- ish. Don't steal my shit. If you're still reading this, please reblog or comment something. I am more motivated to write when I know that there's someone looking forward to it. It means I'm doing more than screaming into the void.
It wasn't long before Hank and Happy returned with the promised stencil. "Here, mi princessa. Let's try this size."
Megan smiled and began to remove the layers she still wore until she was down to her band shirt. She laid her flannel and hoody across the bar and smiled as she offered her left arm.
Hank took her hand and kissed it before taking the offered transfer gel from Happy. He placed the stencil just below her elbow.
Megan's smile grew as she saw the purple ink on her skin.
Taza looked over her shoulder and smiled softly. "Your first club ink, Chica. Is it what you want?"
She looked up at him and he saw the absolute certainty in those brown eyes. She nodded. “Then it's perfect."
A few hours later, the tattoos were done and wrapped in plastic. Megan's left arm was marked with her very own symbol. On her right- a black feather to mark her as a club friend to SAMCRO. Halfway through the session, Happy had received a text message saying the Wahiwa Lodge was ready for its temporary inhabitants.
“Alright, Lass? Hank wasna ' jokin’ bout you takin' ink like a champ," Chibs grinned." An now yer proper ready for tonight."
Megan smiled at the Scot and leaned back against Hank as he came up behind her after a final hand wash. "What's tonight?"
Bishop grinned a little. "What else, Poquito? A party to welcome us to Charming town."
Taza laughed at the dismayed look on his daughter's face. "Let's get to the lodge and unpack a bit. Give la princessa some time to decompress- rest." He winked as he scratched Rex's ears. "A shower and change of clothes wouldn't hurt any of us."
The Wahiwa Reservation guest lodge was all theirs for the duration of their visit. That meant that, for once, everyone had their own rooms. Chibs and Happy had ridden along to make the introductions to the tribal elders as well as so Happy could see that the changes he'd required had been made.
Hank and Megan had a small suite next to the rooms designated for Bishop and Taza. A huge king sized bed- with a brand new mattress- as well as a large dog bed took up most of the room space.
Megan unpacked the three outfits she'd brought along on the run and stared at them in dismay. She'd packed as the Santo Padre Armorer. Sensible jeans, long sleeved shirts, and hoodies were all she had, along with her basic jewelry. She hadn't packed for a SAMCRO party. She groaned softly.
Hank paused in his own unpacking. "Everything good, mi princessa?" he asked from the other side of the bed.
She tried to smile for him. "Of course, Baby. Just... assessing my options for tonight."
Hank chuckled and came around to cuddle her back against his chest. "Not liking what you see, mi amore?"
"I didn't exactly pack 'party' clothes. I packed warm and practical, but not pretty."
He softly kissed the back of her hair. "I'm sorry Princessa. We could go see what we can find in town..."
She shook her head. "No time. Especially not if we're supposed to get there with Papa and Tío Bishop."
Hank looked over her clothes. "You know you don't have to dress up for this- right? You'll look beautiful in any of these." He squeezed her waist gently.
"You, sir, are biased." She smiled. "I know I can wear my normal clothes to the party. I just like to look my best when I'm dealing with new people." She turned in his hold with a giggle. "And I like when you can show me off a bit, too."
Hank pulled her into a kiss softly. "I can always show you off, mi reina. You could be in a paper sack and I'd think you shined brighter than the sun."
Megan took a deep breath and settled against his chest to relax for a moment.
A knock at the door broke them apart. Hank opened the door fully expecting it to be Taza standing there to see if Megan wanted her hair redone or Bishop letting them know about dinner plans before the party. Instead, Hank found the skinny SoA prospect standing nervously in the hallway with a large box and a bag.
"Excuse me- is Ms. Megan in this room?" he asked.
Hank grunted an affirmative and saw the relief flash across the kids face.
"Great. Ms. Venus sent me to deliver this to Ms. Megan since she says she knows she wasn't expecting a party." He offered Hank the items and looked ready to flee.
Megan stuck her head around Hank's broad form to smile at the prospect. "Thank you! I'll call her and tell her you delivered it, Prospect." He nodded hurriedly and squeaked out a "no problem" before he scurried away.
Hank shook his head and kicked the door gently closed before putting the gifts on their bed. "Are they sure that one's old enough to prospect?"
Megan laughed." Venus calls him Babyface all the time. He's their new one." She smiled softly as she shot off a text to Venus to thank her before even opening the box. Inside was a faux leather a-line dress with cap sleeves. The cut screamed innocent, but the black leather gave the piece some edge. The bag contained ballet flats and a new tube of mascara and an eyeliner pencil- both in black and waterproof.
Hank smiled as Megan laid it out on the bed. "That's going to look nice with your kutte, mi amore."
She smiled again and ran a finger down the bodice seam nearest her. "Yeah. I think so too."
They showered together with Hank gently cleaning her new tattoos for her while keeping her hair dry for the night. The plan was to put tegaderm on the bicep tattoo to keep it from rubbing too much. Her club ink would be kept uncovered. Hank preferred to keep it that way to aid healing. While Hank dressed himself, he kept an eye on Megan. He watched her slip into her bra and underwear. The soft cast allowed her much more independence than the sling had, but she still struggled with some things. Zippers were one of those things.
After doing her skincare, she slipped into the dress that the first Lady of SAMCRO had provided only to discover that the zipper was in the back and out of her reach.
Before she could ask, Hank paused in buttoning his red and black flannel to zip her dress for her- stroking the soft skin of her back. He pressed an open mouthed kiss to the side of her neck with a smile.
Megan smiled back over her shoulder at him. "How do you think I should wear my hair?" she asked.
Hank took her good hand and spun her dramatically to make her giggle and her skirt flare. Her loose hair spun with her. "You look perfect, mi reina. La Princessa de los Mayas."
"Will you help me with my jewelry when you get done getting ready?" she asked, wandering over to the mirror to line her top lids and put a coat of mascara on.
"Absolutely". He finished with his buttons and styled his hair as she slipped into the ballet flats.
Only once her crown necklace and pearl earrings were in place did Megan seem to breathe.
Hank shrugged into his own kutte before holding hers out to help her into it.
Out in the common room, Taza and Bishop waited for them so they could head back to TM for the party. The other members had gone on ahead.
"Well aren't you pretty. Poquito." Bishop grinned as he offered a hand for a spin. Megan took it allowing them to see the full effect of her gift. "Where'd you get the dress?"
Hank chuckled. "One guess, Bish. La Princessa has friends everywhere."
"Surely not Happy..." Taza said with a laugh.
Megan giggled. "No. Not Happy- this time. Venus came to my rescue."
"Well-don't count Happy out for the night just yet, Chica," her father laughed. "You're gonna want to thank him- again. He sent you a ride."
"A ride?" Megan asked. "I thought we were taking the bikes to TM."
"We are," said Bishop. "You- however- are riding in a jeep that T.O. just finished restoring- with or without your caballero." He grinned. "It's an automatic, so you can drive it yourself if you'd like."
Hank laughed. "He really doesn't like you getting cold apparently, mi amore."
Megan laughed and looked at Hank. "So are you riding or are you coming in the jeep with me and Rex?"
"I think I'll join you in the jeep, Princessa. That way my bike is here and not stuck at
T. M. when you get too tired to drive home."
A short drive later and they arrived at T.M. Happy sat on the picnic table outside sipping a beer and ignoring the croweater currently trying her best to get his attention. Megan smiled at him softly. "Hey Happy. Thank you for finding another vehicle besides the van for us to use here."
He grunted and smirked. "How's the ink?"
"Not too bad. Hank put Tegaderm on my feather so it wouldn't rub on my clothes." She tilted her right arm to show where he'd tattooed her mark.
The quiet man nodded and checked the seal on the clear bandage himself. "It'll do."
Hank chuckled and shook the man's hand. "Told ya she takes ink like a champ."
Happy only nodded and scratched Rex's ears before waving them on inside.
Inside Megan was hit with a wall of sound as voices and music mingled. Smoke from joints and cigarettes made it all the more disorienting for her. She wrapped her injured arm around Hank's forearm and reached for Rex's collar with her left.
"Easy, mi amore. I know it's a lot at first..." Hank soothed.
"Why are our parties so much calmer than SAMCRO's?" she asked quietly.
Taza appeared at her left with a bottle of water for her and chuckled. "They aren't. You're just always there from the beginning so it doesn't seem as rowdy."
She winced and nodded.
"If it gets to be too much, mi princessa, just let me know. We'll find somewhere quieter." Hank pressed a kiss to her hair and drew her close to his side.
By the time they made it to the bar to greet Chibs and Tig, Megan had settled into the noise a bit. It wasn't any worse than working the bars on Broadway in Nashville. She was just so used to the quiet of Santo Padre now that it took some adjusting.
"There's tha’ lass! Ya ' alright?" Chibs asked as he saluted her with his whiskey glass.
"I'm good, Chibs. Just a bit unaccustomed to the noise." She slid onto the bar stool Hank pulled out for her and leaned back against el pacificador.
"To be fair- these parties could raise the dead, Sugar," said Venus as she arrived at Tig's side. She grinned and offered Megan a hug. "I just knew that dress was perfect for you."
Megan took the hug happily. "Thank you for sending your prospect over with it. I only brought work clothes for this run- nothing for a party."
"I figured. Especially since you came down on the bike. Was the ride alright?" the older southern woman asked.
"It was fine. A little chilly, but nothing too extreme," Bishop answered as he took his own glass of whiskey from Chibs.
Venus raised one manicured eyebrow at Megan. "So, no issues?"
Megan winced. "You're as bad as Happy," she muttered. "I struggled a bit with the enclosed van. That's all. Nothing major."
The First Lady of SAMCRO gave an indelicate snort. "A little? Or a lot?"
Hank soothed Megan by running his hands down her biceps. "She found ways to cope. It wasn't fun, but we made it okay." He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her head.
"Alright. I'll leave off. Show me your ink," Venus smiled as she sipped a cocktail out of a dainty glass that looked comically out of place in the rough bar.
Glad for the change of subject, Megan turned her arms to show off her new art work.
As the night got later, Hank guided Megan to a couch in the corner for a breather. He waved their prospect down to ask EZ to make Megan a cup of tea and was a little shocked when EZ didn't immediately remember how Megan preferred it. He resolved again to check on the kid sooner rather than later.
When he returned his attention to his princessa, he found her frowning at her personal phone as she scratched Rex's ears. "What's wrong, mi amore?"
"You remember that weird text that I got on the drive up?" she asked.
Hank settled himself on the couch for her to lean on and nodded.
"I got another one..."
That brought a frown to his own face and he glanced around for Taza as he asked, "What's this one say?"
"’A full house is a stacked deck. Know when to fold…’" she replied.
"Fuck. Someone knows the Kings are state side and we're here to meet them."
"That's certainly what it sounds like. But no one should have this number. It's my personal." She handed him the phone to show him the number.
Hank saw EZ returning with Megan's tea. He took it distractedly and sent him back after Taza and Bishop.
Less than an hour later, Megan found herself sitting in the SoA version of an officer's templo. Chibs, Tig, and Happy were the only ones present for the home club, while the entire group of Mayans officers were present.
"Jaysus Christ- who could be trackin 'tha lass?" Chips asked.
Creeper rubbed his head and growled as he examined Megan's phone. "It's not firmware. It's not been bugged. It doesn't make any sense."
Taza nodded. "I bought that phone with cash even though I was attaching it to my plan. Bought it straight at the store- no outside tech handled it."
Happy grunted and chewed his toothpick. "Who's got the number?"
Megan counted them off on her fingers. "The club, Mama, Tía Diana, Tessa, Venus, Letty, and Happy. That's it."
Tig leaned back in his chair. "Only one explanation then- feds."
Bishop sighed. "Gotta be. Probably the ones Galindo is tied up with. They're the only ones with the pull to subpoena phone records. It's nothing for them to try to use your new arrival on the scene to their advantage."
Angel smoked quietly. "So is the phone safe to use?"
Chibs nodded. "Safe enough for personal use. Tha 'lass ain't exactly makin 'deals on her personal phone."
Megan wrinkled her nose. "Absolutely not. I barely use it outside the family. That's why I kept my burner."
"Right, Little Bit. Leave the fed hotline at the lodge while we're out handling business. They can't track it on Wahiwa land. Hell- we should probably all do that with the importance of this job," Tig said.
"I'll let the LO know that the feds have moved on from putting tails to possible phone taps on personals. She'll need to know." Angel was already sending a text on the LO burner phone.
"Of course she will. And, Sweet Chica, they can't connect you to a single thing. Just- ignore messages except for telling us about them, alright?" Taza said smiling gently at her. "We've got you covered."
Tig frowned. "The Kings know they're constantly followed and monitored on U.S. soil. This shouldn't do more than maybe hurry things along at this point."
Chibs nodded. "Alright then. Let's let Hank take the lass to bed for the night. We'll contact the Kings and let them know what's doin 'and keep everyone updated- on the burners." He smiled at Megan. "Go sleep. Yer done in."
Megan smiled back at the Scot before standing to kiss his cheek. Hank slid his arm around her waist and let her say her good nights to the other reapers as the party outside raged on.
"I'm gonna hang back and make sure our guys remember we're here to work ," Creep said as the younger Mayans rejoined the party.
" 'Preciate it," Bishop said as he tossed his beer bottle on the way out the door. Taza joined him as they wrapped up for the ride home.
"Headed out?" Venus asked, as she appeared at Megan's side with her leather jacket for her. "Good. Get some rest and we'll see what plans are for tomorrow so we can plan lunch."
Megan hugged the older woman tightly. "OK. Night Venus. I may be slow to answer texts for the next few days, but I'll try to answer."
"That's alright, Sugar. You've got plenty goin 'on. We'll get some girl time before you leave." She straightened Megan's jacket collar and grinned up at Hank. "Take care of her, Tranq."
"Yes ma 'am," he answered as he guided Megan to the borrowed jeep and loaded Rex in the back.