Punchin’ Walls
summary: The reader has her eighteen year old nephew living with her. One night, shit hits the fan, and she needs backup. Particularly a hot biker for backup
pairing: protective!Jax x Reader
word count: 3k
rating: 18+ ONLY. MDNI
warnings/tags: toxic household situation. Jax puts his hands on a punk teenager. Friends to lovers (kind of?). Underage drinking.
a/n: it’s been 84 years a few months, but I really needed this. Life is kicking my ass and what better way to make myself feel better than some scorched earth Jax teller? As always, like and reblog if you enjoyed. Missed you all.
main masterlist l jax masterlist
When your nephew moved in with you when he was thirteen years old, things were pretty normal. It was you and Brendan against the world. You did everything for him. You made sure that the fridge was always stocked with his favorite foods, and that his dresser and closet were filled with the best clothes. He was always appreciative. Until he turned eighteen.
The first time he slammed his fist into the wall, you tried to tell yourself it was just grief rearing its ugly head. He had been through a lot, so it was probably just an isolated incident.
The second time, you were angry, and tried to tell yourself once more that he was just working through the loss of his mother in the only way knew how. He was angry, and he had every right to be.
But now, after the third hole you were going to have to patch up as you stood frozen and afraid in the middle of the kitchen while Brendan paced back and forth in a rage that you couldn’t even begin to cool down, you realized - you were in over your head.
For the first time since he moved in with you, you were afraid of him. Not because of his rage, but because of the alcohol on his breath. Because of his inability to control that rage.
“I am so fucking sick of this!” He screamed at you as his fist slammed through the drywall, dust and paint chips flying back. You jumped, and you wondered what was going to happen in the next ten minutes. The fact that you may have had to call the cops worried you. Brendan was out of control, and there was only so much you could take.
“You don’t get to control me anymore,” Brendan snapped, pacing back and fourth through your kitchen now, his knuckles bruised and bleeding. You could smell the alcohol on his his breath as he huffed and puffed.
“I asked where you were!” you shot back, though your voice shook despite your best efforts. “Big fuckin’ deal!”
“I’m eighteen!” He retorted
“And you live in my house!” You shouted back. “My house isn’t a god damn hotel for you to come and go as you please!”
The air in your small kitchen felt suffocating, as if you were going to collapse right onto the cheap, linoleum floor. But you weren’t backing down from him, not this time. You had been more than understanding of his outbursts, and his tantrums. Now, you had enough.
Outside, a night, spring rain pitter-pattered against your windows, while a distant thunder hummed over Charming.
Brendan scoffed out his nose bitterly, completely unable to look at you. The rage coming off his aura was palpable, and your fear grew as he paced closer and closer to you.
“You act like you’re my mom.”
There it was. You had wondered how long it would take for him to hit you with that line. Inside, it felt like you had been stabbed right in the gut, but you didn’t dare let an ounce of pain register on your face.
“You’re right, I’m not,” you whispered. “Thank God for that.”
“Oh yeah?” His voice rose again. “You hover over every damn thing I do. You call me nonstop if I don’t answer my phone. You treat me like I’m some fucked up teenager who just can’t wait to destroy my own life.”
“I worry because I love you.”
“Yeah, well maybe I’m tired of you treating me like a child!”
“You’re drunk, Brendan!”
“So what?”
“So what?” you repeated incredulously. “Brendan, just because you’re eighteen years old doesn’t mean jack shit. You’re not an adult, no matter how much you think you are!”
He didn’t respond.
“God,” you scoffed, crossing your arms, as if you were the defiant one. “You’re just like your father.”
The second the words left your mouth, you regretted it. For a moment, you hoped and prayed that those words hadn’t left your mouth, but they did. Brendan stood before you, completely frozen. Then, his expression completely changed into something, someone you didn’t recognize. It was ugly. Terrifying.
“Fuck. You,” he snapped between his teeth.
Your eyes widened in shock. You’d never wanted to put your hands on anyone in your life, but now? Now, it took everything out of you to not wind up and slap him across the face. You couldn’t think of a single thing to say before he started speaking once more.
“You know what?” he started, the smirk on his face a mask - a terrifying, arrogant mask. “Maybe I should’ve stayed with my dad instead of living with such a controlling bitch.”
“Brendan,” you started, but you were quickly cut off again.
“No, seriously, y/n,” he said, taking a step closer, but not taking anymore. “You took me in, congratulations. You only did that so people can tell you what a great person you are. But guess what? You’re not.”
Your nephew towered over you now, his chest puffed out, breathing heavily with anger. The smell of alcohol on his breath made you want to throw up. You weren’t going to back down, but you were really starting to wonder if he wanted that hole in the drywall to be your face.
“Brendan,” you whispered shakily. “You need to back the fuck up.” But he didn’t, in fact, he inched closer to you.
“Scared of me now, huh?”
As you opened your mouth to respond, you could see your phone light up and buzz on the counter.
It was Jax, his name and a goofy photo of him illuminating your phone screen. You weren’t sure to be relieved, or scared. If you told Jax what was going on, the way he was going to react would be unpredictable at best.
You wondered how Jax did it. How he managed to know when you needed him.
Jax wasn’t your boyfriend, even though you really wanted him to be. Jax just wasn’t the dating type, so the two of you were just friends, and he was always just a phone call away.
When you saw his name on your screen, your heart instantly felt like it dropped into your stomach.
“Great,” Brendan scoffed. “The biker.”
You ignored him, shoving past him to grab your phone. You answered, still not breaking eye contact with your drunk nephew.
“Hey,” you said quietly.
Jax immediately knew something was wrong just by the tone of your voice.
“What’s wrong?” Your eyes started to swell with tears. You looked over to see Brendan, still seething with rage. Jax would without a doubt show up if you told him what was going on, and you were afraid how Brendan would react to the outlaw showing up at your door. “Now’s not a good time, Jax.”
“Sweetheart,” he said with concern in his voice.
You swallowed hard. “I gotta go,” but you didn’t hang up, you just slid your phone in your back pocket with shaky hands, hoping and praying Jax knew to not hang up. Hoping he would stay on the other line and listen to everything.
Brendan scoffed. “What,” he said, his face so filled with disdain and hatred for you, for everyone, for life. “didn’t wanna send your attack dog after me?”
“Stop.”
“What?” He scoffed again. “You know he’s a psycho, right?”
The two of you went back and forth in a heated battle of wills for about five minutes until the flash of headlights shone through your front windows. Mason rolled his eyes in disbelief.
“No way,” he muttered.
A moment later, the front door swung open without a knock, and suddenly, there was Jax walking past the threshold to your living room where you now stood. Brendan stayed in the kitchen.
Jax looked like a reaper coming to collect a debt. The black hoodie loose underneath his leather kutte, his black reaper crew hat on backwards. The raindrops from outside clung to the leather on his shoulders, and you were reminded of all the times you told the stubborn son of a bitch to stop riding in the rain. Another conversation for another day.
Jackson's blue eyes were filled with fury. You’d seen that look before and it almost never ended well for whoever was on the receiving end.
The second his furious gaze landed on you, his expression softened.
“Baby.”
The word came rough and immediate, and shocking. He’d never called you baby before. And for a brief second, things felt like they were going to be okay. He scanned your face, checking for any bumps, bruises, cuts. You closed your eyes with exhaustion when his large and calloused hands cupped your face.
Jax scowled as he looked up and into the kitchen. The rage in his eyes was back, as if he could change his expression with the snap of a finger.
Brendan folded his arms defensively. “Seriously?”
Jax ignored him completely.
“You okay?” He asked you gently, before looking back over to your nephew.
“Nothin’ happened,” Brendan snapped.
“You think I’m a psychopath?” Jax said with a furious smirk. He must’ve been listening through the phone in your back pocket. “Funny, because the only one acting like a psychopath…” he said, his eyebrows raised in a questioning manner. “...is you,” he said through gritted teeth, his facial expression changing on cue again.
“I’m not a fuckin’ psychopath,” Brendan responded.
“You’re screaming in her face,” Jax started, slowly walking toward Brendan. “Punchin’ holes in the wall,” he said, pointing to the fresh hole in the wall. “Scarin’ the hell outta her.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “So yeah…yeah sounds like a psychopath to me.”
“I wasn’t gonna hurt her!”
“No,” Jax said, continuing to slowly, and smoothly walk toward the kitchen like a predator approaching its prey. “You just wanted to make her think you were going to hurt her…like a coward.”
Brendan stepped forward, puffing out his chest and trying to be eye level with Jax. “You don’t know shit about me.”
“You’re right,” Jax said softly. “I don’t know you.” Jax turned over his shoulder, his eyes flicking toward you. “But I do know her. And I know that she was scared shitless.”
“You threw shit around the house,” Jax continued sharply. “You got in her face. You screamed at her.” His jaw flexed. “What exactly did you think that looked like?”
Brendan's frustration was tangible. He was flustered, and probably a little scared of Jax.
“You don’t get it.”
“No,” Jax said quietly. “I probably do. Probably better than anyone.”
Brendan didn’t say anything.
“You think grief gives you permission to be an asshole?” he asked softly, practically whispering. “You think it gives you permission to make her feel like she’s unsafe in her own god damn home?”
The room went dead silent. You could hear Brendan panting with fear now. He looked upset, almost embarrassed. And he should have been. He should have been ashamed for what he had done. But still, he wasn’t going to back down.
“Like you don’t love the fact that everybody in Charming’s afraid of you,” your jaw dropped when he said that to Jax. “Fucking hypocrite.” Then, an audible gasp from your already open mouth.
Jax went completely still, and you were scared, now.
“You walk around acting like some outlaw king and everybody kisses your ass because they’re scared of you” His eyes narrowed. “I’m not though.”
“The difference,” he said quietly, “is that I don’t go around purposely scaring women. Especially the one that would do anything for me.” He said. “That…” Jax started again, “...that’s the difference between a boy and a man.
Brendan replied with a roll of the eyes.
“Dude,” he smirked. “Stop playing hero because you wanna sleep with her.”
“Brendan!” You shouted, hoping to calm the situation before things got out of hand. But it was too late. Jax moved like a leopard, immediately closing the distance between them. Jax rushed Brendan, pinning him to the nearest wall with a slam.
“Jax!” You gasped.
But Jax already had his forearm pressed against Brendan’s chest as he crouched down to be eye level with him. The scariest part was not the fact that he had him pinned to the wall. No, what scared you the most was how calm, and collected Jax was.
“You don’t talk about her like that,” Jax said, his voice calm and lethal. “Never again.”
Brendan was silent.
“You got grief? Fine. You got anger? Good,” Jax spit as he whispered between his teeth. “Take that anger, take that hatred, take all of that negative and put it to something useful.” He pushed just a little bit harder against Brendan’s chest. “But you do not ever dump all that pain onto her because she’s an easy target.”
You squeezed your eyes shut and tears fell down your cheeks as you watched your nephew get manhandled by the person you loved. Even though he deserved it, it still wasn’t easy to witness.
Brendan was still pinned between the wall and Jax when he looked past the broad, leather clad shoulder. He looked at you, really looked at you, for the first time all night.
“I…” His voice cracked. “I’m sorry.”
Jax held him there another second before finally letting go. Brendan stayed against the wall for a moment before stepping away and walking towards you. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
You forced a smile and a nod at him. “I know you didn’t hun.”
“I’m gonna go to Jake’s,” he muttered quietly, before putting his jacket on and heading out the door. Him leaving was probably for the best. Space was needed. But, he turned towards you one last time before leaving. “I really am sorry.”
The front door shut behind him and silence flooded your house once more. You felt your adrenaline wear off almost immediately and as you felt yourself get weak in the knees, Jax caught you before you could even stumble.
“Hey,” he whispered, pulling you against his chest. The warmth of him hit all at once and the smell of leather, rain and cigarette smoke filled your nose. Your fingers twisted into the front of his hoodie automatically while you tried to catch your breath.
“I got you,” he said softly, one hand sliding into your hair.
That almost undid you completely. Jax was your person, your protector. And having him there saved you in more ways than one.
“I hate this,” you whispered.
“I know, baby.”
You buried your face against his chest, exhausted and overwhelmed and suddenly far too aware of the way his hand kept smoothing slowly up and down your spine like he couldn’t stop touching you now that he had a reason too.
Jax hooked a finger under your chin, tilting it up and forcing your eyes to meet his.
“Did you leave me on the phone on purpose?” he asked quietly.
Despite everything, a breathy laugh escaped your lips. “Maybe.”
“There she is,” Jax murmured softly.
The look in his eyes ruined you. The affection. The protection. The feeling of those butterflies in your stomach. It was all too much.
“I’m glad you came,” you whispered.
“Always will,” he responded simply.
Jax lifted your chin again as he noticed you breathing sporadically, but it was silent. Just you and him, staring into each other's eyes. It was clear that there was something between you, but it was just a matter of who was going to admit it first.
The rain was still hitting the window, and you saw another flash of lightning fill the room. And suddenly, you and Jax were chest to chest. You could hardly breathe, or think.
“It’s weird…” Jax murmured softly.
“What is?”
“Even though it was a shitty situation,” Jax started. “I’m kinda glad I called..”
You didn’t know what to say to him, so you didn’t say anything at all.
“Like bein’ the one you needed.”
You nuzzled in closer to him. “I always need you, Jax.” He couldn’t see your face, but you opened your eyes wide, shocked at the admission you just made to him. But quickly, his hand slid around the back of your neck. You groaned quietly and went limp in his arms.
“Careful, darlin’,” he said quietly.
“Why?”
“Because I’m tryin’ real hard to be a gentleman right now.”
“Maybe you should stop trying.”
Jax broke instantly. His mouth crashed against yours, stealing the breath right out of your lungs. He kissed you warmly, and desperately. As if the tension that had been building between the two of you over the years had finally snapped.
One hand tangled into your hair while the other pulled you flush against his chest, and suddenly you could feel everything. You could feel the strength in his arms, his chest moving in and out with each breath, and the way he kissed you like he’d been wanting to do this for far too long.
You gasped softly against his mouth, fingers clutching at the front of his hoodie while Jax kissed you deeper with a rough sound low in his throat.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered against your lips before kissing you again. Only now, the kiss was softer, gentler, but somehow with more intensity than before.
Jax broke the kiss, his thumb brushing your cheek while he gazed into your eyes. He couldn’t stop touching you. He certainly couldn’t stop kissing you, and that much was true when he leaned down to kiss you again, your tongues dancing together in perfect harmony.
When Jax finally pulled back once more, both of you were breathing heavily. He rested his forehead against yours, closing your eyes for just a moment. And then, he opened his eyes to look at you again.
“Nobody gets to make you feel unsafe,” he said quietly. “As long as you got me baby, you know you will always be safe.” He ran his rough hand down your back again. “Got it?”
And you nodded in response, wrapped up in his arms while thunder rolled outside and rain tapped against the windows. You believed him completely. You trusted him completely.
