Requests are open for all the above fandoms! Disclaimer: Might take me some time to get to them!
You can also find me on ao3 under the same name! But I haven't finished pulling everything from here onto there, yet!
Moving Day - Angel Reyes & EZ Reyes & Platonic!OC Andrea Baros
Motion Sick - Angel Reyes x F!Reader
Country Shit - Gilly Lopez x F!Reader
Nice but Bad - Angel Reyes & Emily Thomas
đ Life After - Angel Reyes x OC Izzy Flores
Believe it or not - EZ Reyes x Nestor Oceteva
Only If Iâm Lucky - Angel Reyes & EZ Reyes & Felipe Reyes & OC Lucrecia (Lucky) Fuentes // Bishop Losa x OC Lucky
Do What You Gotta Do - Nestor Oceteva x Erin Thomas
Chalk Drawings - Happy Lowman & Juice Ortiz & Platonic!Reader Jax Teller & Teller!Sister Reader Opie Winston x Teller!Sister Reader
Picnics - Juice Ortiz x F!Reader
đ Days Past - Chibs x TellerSister!Reader
Snow Angel -Â Wendy Case & F!Reader // Nero Padilla & F!Reader // Jax Teller x F!Reader
Secretâs Safe -Â Jax Teller x Ortiz!F!Reader // Juice & Sister!Reader
10 Years - Chibs Telford x F!Reader
Halloween Night - Happy Lowman x Lyla Winston Dvorak
I lied - Juice Ortiz x F!Reader
The Killer & The Caretaker - Happy Lowman x F!Reader // Jax Teller & F!Platonic!Reader
THE PITT:
Everything I Never Deal With - Dr. Robby & F!Attending!Reader // Dr. Jack Abbot x F!Attending!Reader
ANIMAL KINGDOM:
We Always Take Care Of Each Other (1/?) - Andrew 'Pope' Cody x F!Reader // Barry 'Baz' Blackwell & Sister!Reader // Deran Cody & Platonic!Reader
Should've Been (2/?) - Andrew 'Pope' Cody x F!Reader // Barry 'Baz' Blackwell & Sister!Reader // Deran Cody & Platonic!Reader
If I Haven't Made It Clear (3/?) - Andrew 'Pope' Cody x F!Reader // Barry 'Baz' Blackwell & Sister!Reader // Deran Cody & Platonic!Reader
MCU:
đ My Best Girl - Dad!Tony Stark & OC Maxine Stark / Steve Rogers x OC MaxineÂ
Festival - (40s) Bucky Barnes x OC Adelaide Redi / (40s) Steve Rogers & Platonic OC Adelaide Redi
Peace In the In Between - Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff
THE PUNISHER:Â
đ Frankâs Only Friend - Frank Castle x Platonic!OC Ana Tyler
Unfair - Frank Castle x OC Georgia Madden
Broken - Franke Castle x F!Reader
BRIDGERTON:
Already Said Yes - Benedict Bridgerton x OC Samantha Crown
OUTER BANKS:
đ When Summer Ends - Topper Thornton x Maybank!Sister OC
NARCOS:
In The Midst of Chaos - Javier Peña x F!Reader
Something Borrowed - Javier Peña x F!Reader
What Friends Are For - Steve Murphy x Platonic!Reader
đ Superhero - Javier Peña x F!Reader
History in a bar - Javier Peña & F!Reader
Murphyâs Sister - Steve Murphy x Sister!Reader | Javier Peña x Murphy!F!Reader
Something Out of the Ordinary - Steve Murphy x F!Reader
Stuck Record - Steve Murphy x F!Reader
For Old Timeâs Sake - Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader
Foldinâ Clothes - Steve Murphy x F!Reader
Watching Time - Chepe Santacruz x Pacho Herrera
Things I Should Have Said - Javier Peña x F!Reader
STRANGER THINGS:
đ Eddie Munsonâs Best Friend - Eddie Munson x F!Reader
THE LAST OF US:
Midnight Movie - Tommy Miller x F!Reader
Let Me Come Home - Joel Miller x F!Reader
THE BEAR:Â
đ My Best Friendâs Cousin - Richie Jerimovich x F!Reader / Carmy Berzatto x Platonic!F!Reader (was originally a bunch of individual fics but Iâve combined them into their own multi-chap post).Â
You, Me & Italy - Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader
Flower Shop - Richie Jerimovich x F!Reader
Jane Austen and a New York Bench - Jess Mariano x F!Reader
Not Much To Tell - Jess Mariano x F!Reader
HARRY POTTER:
đThe Daughter Of Sirius Black -Â Sirius Black & F!Reader (Sirius's Daughter) // Neville Longbottom x F!Reader Pairing
THE BIKERIDERS:
The Year of 1969 - Johnny Davis x F!Reader // Benny Cross & F!Reader
Cal & Sylv's Story - Cal x OC Sylvie Hawke
Johnny Fuckin' Davis - Johnny Davis x GN!Reader
The Bikerider and The Bartender (PT 1)- Johnny Davis x F!Reader
TWISTERS:
Cowboy and Pony - Tyler Owens x F!Reader
Welcome Home - Tyler Owens x F!Reader
Harmony After The Storm - Tyler Owens x F!Reader
VERONICA MARS:
Tensions Rise - Eli "Weevil" Navarro x F!Reader (Felix Toombs Sister)
The Funeral - Eli "Weevil" Navarro x F!Reader (Felix Toombs Sister)
NCIS/NCIS:ORIGINS
Good Mood - Leroy Jethro Gibbs x F!Wife!Reader
Bad Mood - Leroy Jethro Gibbs x F!Wife!Reader
Bio-Hazard - Leroy Jethro Gibbs x F!Wife!Reader
đ Beyond The Surface - Young Mike Franks x F!Reader
TOP GUN MAVERICK:
đ Between Flight And Fate - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x F!Reader
THE WOLVERINE // LOGAN:
Not A Way To Live - Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader
CROSSOVERS:
And You? - Jax Teller & Steve MurphyÂ
Donât Push it - Chepe Santacruz x DrabbleMCâs OC Diedra Lowman
Request by the other half of my heart and brain @garbinge : what if one of the guys walked into that hospital chapel room, expecting to clear it out for the guys who are coming but there's someone in the room, crying. And maybe whichever guy that was tasked to come clear it out, ends up talking with them. I just think it'd be angsty with some trauma bonding
Warnings: 18+, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, hospitals, mentions of illness/hospice care
Word Count: 2.8k
A/N: okay anj and what if i said i'm viscerally attached to these two now???? what then????????
When Happy pushed the door open, he had been expecting to find the hospital chapel empty. It was late; visiting hours had been over for some time. He thought that the only person he might run into was the janitor or whoever came through to check and make sure the candles werenât going to end up burning the hospital down.
He didnât expect to walk through the doorway and see one person sitting in the middle of one of the pews. You werenât kneeling, instead just sitting on the unforgiving wooden seat and slumping forward. Your arms were folded, braced against the back of the bench in front of you with your forehead resting against them. He didnât hear anything, no sobs or sniffles.
Even though heâd been sent in there with the direction of clearing the place out, he closed the door as quietly as he could manage. The click of the latch was soft. It sounded deafening to him but you didnât even flinch.
He couldnât really see you, nothing other than your hair and the pattern on the back of the sweatshirt you were wearing. The hospital chapel was always dim, especially this late in the day. It was all soft lighting and flickering candles. The kind of place that would be peaceful for anyone, not just for the people who came in to send up a last desperate prayer or two.
Once he took a step forward the illusion of the place shattered. Heavy boots against the floor, the jingling of his chain against his jeans. He saw how you flinched, tilting your head slightly in his direction to hear better but not lifting it from where it laid perched on your forearms. Part of him admired that.
He could have stood at the end of the aisle and told you to get out. That had been his original plan. Actually, his original plan was to not even go past the doorway and scare everyone out without having to cross the threshold. But the task heâd been sent out on was officially placed on the backburner.
The wood creaked beneath him as he sat down beside you. It was oddly, uncomfortably close. The kind of close that strangers donât typically opt into if there are alternatives available, which there were plenty of considering the chapel was empty except for the two of you.
You could hear the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing due to the silence of the space and how near he was to you. Even before you turned your head to look at him you knew he was watching you. You knew that you shouldâve been scared. And maybe in some far, distant part of your brain you were, but you were too exhausted to reach that far inside yourself to do anything about it.
He locked eyes with you for a moment. Then he looked at the candles, the cross, then back to you again. The whole time you just watched him. You felt like you had everything about the chapel memorized now with how long youâd been in thereâhe was the only thing you didnât recognize.
When Happy looked at you again, he saw the tears in your eyes and on your cheeks. If the chapel had been lighter he would have been able to see the damp spots littering your sleeves, too.
You took a deep breath, trying to find it in yourself to say something since he clearly wasnât too keen on starting the conversation. Your cheek was still pressed against your sleeve as you asked, âDo I know you?â
The fact that you had to ask told Happy the answer to the question. He wasnât the kind of person you knew and forgot about, wasnât the kind of man people had lukewarm opinions on either. If the two of you had met before, youâd remember, even if he might not have.
âNo.â
You sniffled, brows furrowing in confusion. âDo you know Maggie?â
He shook his head but didnât say anything else. The fact that he didnât know you, or the person you were here for, and yet he was still choosing to sit so close to you, made the beginnings of a hundred questions pop up in your head. Too bad you were too drained to ask any of them. Besides, based on the conversational skills so far, you doubted that youâd get answers to very many of them anyway.
You finally forced yourself upright. As you were wiping away the remnants of tears from your cheeks, you asked, âDo you need something from me?â A little annoyance slipped through in your tone, and on a better day you would have apologized for it.
âI was supposed to come here and tell you to get out.â
That felt specific considering the two of you hadnât ever met. âMe?â
He nodded, then made a small gesture with his head to the rest of the room. âWhoever was in here. Tonight itâs you.â
Slumping back against the seat, you managed a weak chuckle. âDidnât realize that the hospital employed a chapel bouncer.â
âThey donât,â he replied, deadpan in a way that made you wonder if he didnât get that you were joking or was purposely treating your statement seriously.
âWhy?â you asked. The only thing that betrayed his confusion was the touching of his brows. You did your best to clarify. âWhy do you need me to leave?â
He shook his head. âCanât tell you.â
You were too exhausted to argue, but you were also tired enough to simply not want to get up from where you sat. âWhat happens if I donât?â There was no bite in your tone. It wasnât a challenge, per se. Maybe if you hadnât cried so much already it would have been.
He let silence ensue just long enough to send a prickle down your spine. You were smart enough to know what the lack of a response meant. You were about to give in and get up when he said, âI can buy you a few minutes.â
Something about the small kindness following an unspoken threat made you chuckle. âWhy would you do that?â
Instead of answering, he asked, âWho's Maggie?â
The sound of someone else saying her name made your chest tighten. He was the first person in a long, long time that had asked about her and he didnât even know her. He didnât know you, either. Everything unfolding around you felt like it wasn't making sense and you were fairly sure you couldnât blame that on your exhaustion. You wanted to ask him who he was, why he wanted to know any of this, why he wanted you out of the chapel. But him asking about Maggie was the closest thing to someone checking in on her or you in too long. Maybe it wasn't fair to unload onto a stranger, but he was asking. And he was also going to kick you out of the chapel as soon as you were done telling him so why not?
âShe's, uh, she's up a few floors. They're getting ready to set her up with hospice care. For the last few months she's just been,â you paused, bottom lip quivering, âshe's been in and out of the hospital a lot. And when she's inâŠit's notâŠâ
âNot making her better,â he finished for you.
You wiped the tears from your cheeks even though it was futile and more would be taking their place soon. âYeah. And, and when I came in yesterday and they said hospice I justââ The words stopped short, a choked sob stopping them halfway up your throat.
âShe your mom?â he asked.
The new bit of softness in his tone got you to meet his gaze again. He was frowning slightly, some of the hardness in his expression had faded. You didnât have to pry to know that he had asked that question for a reason.
âNotâŠno.â You buried your face in your hands. âShe's my ex's mom.â
âWhere the fuck is he, then?â he retorted with no hesitation.
âPrison,â you said, not missing a beat.
âShit.â
It got you to laugh. âHe deserves it. And, honestly,â you shook your head, âeven if he was out, he wouldnât be handling any of this. We're all better off with himâŠâ you trailed off, realizing how harsh it must've sounded to someone who didnât know you. âSorry. I know that probably sounds shitty.â
He shrugged. âHe sounds shitty.â
You hummed in amusement. âHe is. MaggieâŠMaggie's not, though.â You sniffled. âI missed her more than him after we split. We didnât, uh, it wasn't because he went inside. That happened a couple months after. Then a couple months after that she went into the hospital for the first time. And she said that with him inside I was the onlyâŠâ your voice quieted until you stopped speaking altogether. Shaking your head, you apologized, âSorry. ThisâŠthis doesn't matter. You don't know me.â You ran your hands down your thighs. âYou're just waiting for me toââ
âWhy'd you come here?â he asked, effectively cutting you off.
You shook your head. âIt's where desperate people go, isnât it?â you replied, trying to inject a little bit of levity into a scenario where it didnât quite fit. The flickering candles held both your attention and his as you said, âI never really got good at praying. Maggie, though, she never missed a Sunday until she started getting sick.â You didnât say it, but you couldnât help but to think that she spent most of those Sunday mornings in the pew praying for her son. Who didnât deserve it, in your humble opinion. âShe didnât ask me to or anything but I figured, I don't know, if she could get here she would.â You looked at him, a man who didnât seem like he'd knelt in a pew in a long, long time. If ever. âThink God takes prayers by proxy?â
âMaybe.â
Silence filled the space between you again, only this time there wasn't a lingering request for you to leave within it. As the two of you continued to sit there, you wondered if you had been someone else if he would have just grabbed you up by the arm and tossed you out. He seemed like the type who might, not that you really knew what type he was.
Gnawing at the inside of your bottom lip, you couldnât help but to ask, âIs it too late to ask you for your name?â
âHappy,â he replied, his one not at all matching his name.
You chuckled, waiting for the real answer to follow. It felt like a joke given everything that you could glean about him. When the silence persisted and it sank in with you that he wasn't joking, you cleared your throat and gathered up a response.
âRight. Makes about as much sense as the rest of it, I guess.â
In other scenarios this would be the part where you told him your name too, and you'd shake hands, and you'd have a conversation about the usual things you did with someone you didnât know at all. But the two of you had already turned the usual conventions on their heads, so what did any of it matter now?
Resting your hands on your knees, you prepared yourself to stand up and leave. You could already feel the way your joints were going to pop before you even moved, having sat slumped in the pews for far too long. Even if Happy hadn't shown up to kick you out, that should have been reason enough to finally hit the bricks.
âSorry for putting all my shit on you, Happy.â It felt strange to say his name, but strange in a way that made you smile despite all the mess. âGuess you're a good substitute for a priest in a pinch if they need someone for a confessional.â
That had him almost smiling. Just a little twitch of the lips but more than you'd gotten from him thus far. Apparently, he was the type of guy who could appreciate a little irony.
His expression returned to its previous state, one that didnât give you anything to go off of. You watched as his gaze drifted over to the candles. âHospice,â he said, quiet but not quite whispering.
Closing your eyes was a last-ditch effort to keep more tears from popping up. âYeah. There's some things that they can do for her here, but I just...she, she can'tâŠâ You trailed off, not able to end the sentence. There were some words you just weren't ready to say even if the reality of them was staring down the barrel at you.
Happy knew what you were saying without you having to say it. Maybe that was the kind of skill people honed when they weren't much for talking themselves. âYour house or hers?â he asked.
âHers,â you replied, a weak smile appearing on your face. âI, uh, I offered my place but she was pretty adamant. That's fair, though. She's earned that.â
âYou're moving in, then.â
You liked that he didnât ask it like a question. Nodding in agreement, you said, âGonna pack my stuff, and I'll be set up there by the time she's good to come home.â
He nodded in approval. âThey need someone there.â
It was your turn to state something instead of asking. âSpeaking from experience.â
âMoved my whole life around when my mom got sick. She was mad at firstâthen she needed me.â He shrugged. âWasn't as mad after that.â
âI'm sorry,â you offered, looking down at your hands. âBut it's good that you were there.â
Happy seemed like he was about as religious as you were, but he was staring straight ahead at the cross instead of at you as he spoke. âShe's a lot better now.â
âDidnât move your life back though, huh?â you asked, having a feeling you already knew the answer.
He shook his head. âI stay where I'm needed. When my girls were young they needed me here. They're grown now, though.â
You smiled. âSo back to mom's.â
âYeah.â
Then it was quiet again. Because of the hour, you didnât even hear any chaos from outside the chapel doors. You weren't sure how long the two of you sat there not saying anything, or even looking at each other. The part of you that still wasn't ready to face all the realities waiting for you on the side of the door covered in fluorescent lighting was more than ready to sit for as long as you could.
Slow creaking broke the silence, causing both you and Happy to turn back to the doors. You didnât recognize the man who was stepped halfway into the chapel, but you saw that he and Happy were only a few clothing articles away from perfectly matching outfits. The other man's long blonde hair set them pretty far apart, though.
He looked at you for hardly a moment before focusing on Happy. âHap, what the hell are you doing?â
You stood up before Happy could say anything. âHe was telling me that I should head out for the night.â With the door open now you could hear more footsteps heading your way. âI'll, uh, I'll get out of your way.â You looked down at Happy and gave him a small nod. âSorry. And, um, thanks.â
He didnât say anything, just nodding as you turned and walked out the other end of the pew. You made a point not to look too hard at any of the men who were coming into the chapel. You were almost to the door when Happy spoke up; it took a second for you to realize that it was you he was speaking to.
âHey.â
You turned back to face him. âYeah?â
âWhere'd you say they have your ex put up?â
Shaking your head, you answered, âI, uh, I didnât.â You felt all the extra pairs of eyes on you and did your best to ignore them. âButâŠStockton.â Happy nodded, but when he didnât say anything else, you asked, âWhy?â
âNo reason,â he said, not that you believed him.
Ignorance was bliss, though, and you had enough to deal with, so you nodded and kept making your way to the door. None of the other men said anything to you as you slipped past them. Making sure to shut the door behind you, you left to finally make your way home to start packing.
When Happy turned in the pew to face the rest of the guys, it was Jax who spoke up first on behalf of everyone. âWho was that?â
âNo one.â
Jax pinched his brows, not buying that in the slightest but not having anything to back himself up. âSure about that?â
Happy made a gesture to the expanse of the chapel. âIt's empty, isn't it?â
He knew better than to try and pry. âYeah, I guess.â
They all settled down into an ill-formed huddle. Jax wasted no time diving right into club business. Happy was listening, always listening. But every now and then his gaze would wander to the candles, and inevitably to the closed chapel doors.
(divider by @secretlysamcro đ€)
SOA Taglist: @withmyteeth @darqchilddaydreamz @justreblogginfics @winchestershiresauce @proceduralpassion @nessamc @lv7867 @kmc1989 (please let me know if you'd like to be added!)
Narcos & SOA Crossover (but mainly just Narcos)
Chepe Santacruz x @drabbles-mc's OC Diedra Lowman
30 Day Fic Challenge (25/30)
Word Count: 3.5k
Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Violence, torture, angst, pain, blood, hurt/comfort.
A/N: Started writing this for @narcosfandomdiscord's challenge a whole bunch of months ago but never got around to finishing it until now. HUGE hearts and hugs and love for @drabbles-mc for letting me borrow her OC for this! She's created such an amazingly heartbreaking but intriguing story for Diedra and I hope I got a fraction of what you're created for her here!
Narcos Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini @hausofmamadas @kmc1989
It was crazy how history could repeat itself in such small particular moments. As Chepe walked into the basement he saw Diedra in a chair, slouched and sitting across from someone whose face was swollen from punches. Chepe smiled as the scene reminded him of when he first met Diedra.Â
The painful sounds of someone being beaten and tortured filled the underground cellar. Diedraâs white shirt was practically dyed red now from the blood of the person in front of her everytime she slugged, gripped, and tortured him. It wasnât phasing her though, it was something she was used to. She was hired hands, part of something because she had this ability to turn it all off in situations of this nature. It ran in her blood, it was in her genetics. The Lowman family traits were stoic, tortuous, and some might even use the word insane.Â
âWho is that?â Chepeâs voice was intrigued as he stepped down into the cellar next to Pacho who was watching the events unfold in front of him.Â
âNo one you need to be concerned with.â Pacho couldnât help the smirk on his face as he heard Chepeâs question. Both of them now staring at the woman who was in front of them beating answers out of this man.Â
Diedra was no stranger to this life, it felt like her earliest memory was stained with violence and blood. If one was to look back at her life, at her family, at her journey it was pointed in this direction. This is what she was good at, what she got enjoyment out of. She knew it wasnât normal, but nothing about her life was.Â
Chepe was enthralled with her, it was rare to see women in their field of work and when he did, they definitely werenât beating the shit out of people and from Chepeâs observation, enjoying it.Â
Pacho looked over at Chepe, and it took a lot for him not to let out an obvious laugh. He was going to have to pick Chepeâs jaw up off the ground when they were finished here and poke his eyes back in his head.Â
âDo me a favor and donât get drool on the floor.â Pacho knocked Chepeâs shoulder lightly.Â
âDo me a favor and tell me who she is.â Chepe was extremely serious as he spoke despite Pachoâs teasing.Â
Before either of them could continue the conversation the sound of a yelp they hadnât heard before alerted them both to look back at the tortuous scene in front of them. Somehow the man who had been tied up had gotten his left hand free and surprised Diedra with a blow to the face. The yelp was not one that she was proud of, it was rare that sheâd let someone get the upper hand on her.Â
Chepe instinctually took a step forward to take control of the situation when Pacho stopped him by putting his arm in front of him. He wasnât doing it for Chepe in the way one would think. Pacho knew how the woman worked, if Chepe tried to play the knight in shining armor heâd find himself getting rocked and bound to a chair himself.Â
Diedra was quick to recover from the blow and if anything she took the opportunity to have it work in her favor. Within minutes the person was giving up the information she had been digging for over the last hour.Â
The woman turned around, feeling no different than before, despite accomplishing her goal. Her face was still stoic and her brows were meeting in the middle of her face. Spitting out the metallic taste in her mouth into the towel that was first draped over her backpack but now in her hands should not have been as attractive to Chepe as it was. This whole situation was. Chepe was crazy and he felt like this woman in front of him was someone who matched his passion equally, if not more.
Diedra was quick to pick up her backpack, the towel still touching up spots of blood on her face as she walked over to the two men near the exit of the cellar.Â
âThat guy youâre looking for is in Bogata. He lives in the square, plaza de bolivar.â Her eyes were glued to Pachoâs, not even bothering to give a morsel of attention to the other man who had joined him. She could feel his eyes on her, they were practically burning a hole into her face. Any other time, Diedra would have been quick to shut that shit down but she was looking forward to the paycheck from this job and she knew that by punching the guy who seemed to be close with the man whoâd be paying her might put a wrench in that.Â
âThank you, I might have a few more jobs for you, if youâre interested.â Pacho was reaching into his back pocket to pull out an envelope.Â
âYea, Iâm down.â Diedra was grabbing the envelope and placing it in her back pocket. She didnât bother to look at it, this wasnât her first job for Pacho, she had known him to be fair and trustworthy.Â
âIâd actually like to bring you onto our team, I think you could offer more than just,â Pacho paused for a minute to look at the man who was groaning as he came to it from being passed out, âpersuasion.âÂ
âI could.â She nodded, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder.Â
âLetâs talk more tomorrow.â Pacho nodded at the girl. âTake the night to yourself, clean up, relax. Iâll have someone come by your room and bring you food.âÂ
Diedra nodded, at the mention of relaxing she felt the exhaustion come over her. The jet lag was catching up to her, she was covered in blood and dirt, and the pain from being punched was starting to throb and give her a headache. She was feeling happy her commute wasnât far, Pacho had opened his home to her, one of the many unoccupied rooms in the large mansion was now where she had settled in. As she brought the towel back up to her face to spit some leftover blood into it as she made her way towards the cellar entrance. Now, she was passing Chepe, again offering no acknowledgment to his presence until he let out a sentence that boiled her blood.Â
âI could help you with that.â He had lifted his hand to point at her soon to be bruised face. The first thought through Diedraâs mind was that the man was lucky that finger wasnât pointed in her face because sheâd rip them off his hand.Â
Her eyes rolled as she turned, making eye contact with Pacho who was grinning and shaking his head as he looked down at the floor and then back up at her. All he did was close his eyes, shrug his shoulders, and smirk and that was all Diedra needed as a green light. It wasnât like she needed permission, if she wanted to put this guy down she wouldâve but there was something so pleasing in knowing that she could do that and not only keep future jobs but also probably get a laugh out of the guy paying her.Â
âPut that finger any closer to me and Iâll rip it off and shove it down your throat.â Her voice didnât change at all, there wasnât any added layer of anger or frustration in her tone. Now, it did help that she tended to normally speak with a âdonât fuck with meâ attitude.Â
It had been about two years since that instance but Diedra still found herself in the same exact scenario. Sheâd chalk it up to being a Lowman, to never thinking ahead more than a couple days to make any real life changing decisions, but truthfully, it was more than that. She liked it here. That was a new feeling for the girl. She had felt like an outsider in her own hometown, but then again the MC didnât leave a lot of room for anyone but themselves in Charming. Happy and her sister did their best, and she loved them for it. But everytime she looked at Kota, how different she was from her, it really hit her how much she didnât belong here. Kota was happy, 99% of the time. She was a Lowman for sure, didnât take shit from anyone, scared the fuck out of her boyfriend too, which always made Diedra laugh. But ultimately, she had this spirit about her, and Diedra didnât have that. The eldest sister knew why, the trauma she had suffered that her younger sister didnât likely stole the spirit from her and left her with whatever this was. For a while she thought maybe itâd come back, that Charming would open up a spot for her, or at least her father would. Maybe she could help out around the clubâthat was wishful thinking. Women didnât become contract killers for the MC, they had specific roles for women and she definitely didnât fit in any of those.Â
Thatâs why she landed here, working for a drug cartel and it was the most life made sense for her.Â
She probably shouldnât have let the reminder wander for those couple seconds because it earned her a knee to the face. This time, unlike two years ago, she didnât yelp, a grunt did escape from her mouth but she caught the knee of the man quickly and toppled him over, bringing her knife swiftly into the muscle above joint and twisted it and asked her question one more time.Â
âNow you pissed me off,â the blood was dripping from her nose, there were a couple cuts across her face likely from the chains that were wrapped around his legs, âanswer me right now, or Iâll kill you over and over again.âÂ
âThatâs not even possible.â The man still had a little fight in him.Â
She twisted the knife more and smiled, blood all across her pristine white teeth. âYou donât even want to know what I can make possible.â Her words continued as she explained what she was going to do to the man, how sheâd bring him to look the reaper in the eye, and bring him back like an angel, just to push him right back to the edge of death.Â
The man gave up his crew in seconds. Diedra left him with her own knee to his face before she lifted her shirt up to her nose that was likely broken.Â
She approached Chepe, her bag hanging from her shoulder as her eyes looked at his.Â
âI got the info.â She said pinching her nose now hoping thatâd stop the bleeding.Â
Chepe laughed at what she said, âYou know I donât care about the info.âÂ
âBut your business partner does.â With a swift motion she was twisting her nose so it was back in itâs normal positioning and the bleeding quickly stopped but the pain was throbbing. âFuck.â
Chepe was moving in closer, quick to place a kiss on Diedraâs forehead and throw his hand over her shoulder. âCâmon. Letâs go home.âÂ
She nodded, allowing the man that she threatened in this very spot two years ago to touch her, in probably one of the more PG ways over the last year. While didnât exactly melt into his embrace, she didnât push it away, and she was truthfully looking forward to collapsing in bed with him when they got back to their house. She nodded, still messing around with her broken face as they began to step out.Â
âI could help with that.â He brought his hand up and pointed to her face and it earned him a menacing look from Diedra.Â
âDonât push it.âÂ
________
Diedra felt her whole body ache as she walked up the stairs of her home. She didnât realize until this moment that she was pretty banged up and bruised all over, beating someone up tended to have that effect. She jumped into the shower, the warm water was a mix of calming while also painful, a true representation of herself. The dirt and blood washed down the drain but the bruises were hard to erase as easily. The bruises were the reminders, they sat next to her scars, because the long term reminders werenât enough, she needed short term ones too.Â
With a new fresh tank top on and just her underwear, she stood back in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror. The first aid kit was scattered across the vanity, her eye scanning over the items she needed, butterfly bandages, instant ice packs that all you did was squeeze and shake for them to go cold, ointment, instant sterilizing liquid. Diedra managed to get a stiff bandage across her nose to help keep it in the same place. She had an ice pack balanced on her shoulder, easing the ache of constantly swinging and punching the last 6 hours of the day. As the more time passed, the more the ache spread and it became harder to lift her arms above her head.Â
The struggle was beginning to frustrate her as she tried to clean the cuts on her forehead and cheek but struggled to keep her arm raised for more than a couple seconds. She banged her hand against the vanity in annoyance, the entire medical kit shaking as well, some of the bandages falling into the sink. Her eyes closed in defeat, and also as the pain from the hit radiated in her body like a pinball.Â
A sudden knock interrupted her moment and she was snapping her neck forward to see Chepe at the door. He didnât say anything, just casually walked in and picked up the bandages from the sink and tossed them back into the red plastic box.Â
âWanted to let you know I made you something to eat.â He spoke as he dropped the other items back in as well.Â
âNot in the mood for a shitty sandwich.â Her words were pointed because it was how she felt, projection at itâs finest.Â
Chepe just smiled, still packing up the box. âI made chicharron con tostones, picked up alfajores too.âÂ
His lack of eye contact showed he wasnât hurt by Diedraâs bark, he knew it well, they had been living together now for just under a year. When he mentioned the dessert cookie, her eyes widened, shocked by the fact he cooked but also that he picked up one of her favorites. Chepe actually credited alfajores for the reason he could call her his girlfriend.Â
He offered her one when they were out by the pool one day at Pachoâs place, Diedra had been off in the deep end, away from everyone, sitting comfortably with her feet dangling in the crystal clear water. She had her sunglasses on so no one could see where her gaze was landing, but it was obvious it was locked in on Chepe as he slowly approached her with a plastic bag.Â
âHere.â He spoke, asking the girl to take from the bag.Â
âTodo bien.â Suddenly, her gaze moved from the man and back to the view she was staring at trying to ignore him.Â
Chepe couldnât help but smile at the girl, he left the bag next to her, casually tossing it so it landed close enough for her to grab but far enough none of the powdered sugar would spread on her.Â
30 minutes later, the empty bag was dropped on Chepeâs tanning chair, and he was looking up at her as his own sunglasses fell down the bridge of his nose.Â
âWhat are these.â Diedra pointed at the empty bag. Despite it being a question, the way she spoke demanded the answer.Â
âHe took his sunglasses off, wanting to take in this moment in itâs entirety. âAgree to go out with me and Iâll tell you.âÂ
By the look on the girlâs face he almost considered this an utter fail. That was Chepeâs first lesson on Diedra Lowman. She couldnât be bribed.Â
âAlright,â he raised his hands, âhow about, I just drive you to where I buy them. We can go weekly, stock up your supply.â His eyes squinted now, a combination of the sun and him trying to gauge her response.Â
Now that got her thinking. Sheâd be game for that.Â
âDeal.âÂ
And the rest was history, those weekly trips brought them here, in whatever kind of relationship this was, it wasnât like either of them were the type to define it.Â
âDo you mindââ
She was cut off by him, âI already brought it up here, itâs on a table next to the bed.âÂ
Her body collapsed a little at that information, grateful she didnât have to manage the stairs again.Â
âWill you let me help you now?â Chepe was about to close the kit but this time he looked up after he spoke the words, directly at the cuts on her face.Â
It took everything in Diedra to agree, and she couldnât even say the words, she just gave a kurt nod and stood still so he could help.Â
Chepe also knew better than to boast, he similarly gave a nod and shuffled through the kit to pull out what he needed before quickly moving to touch the girlâs face. Her winces were miniscule, the real pain being the aches over the cuts. Sheâd always take a slice over a bruise. The sting felt more thrilling than the pulsating of a blow.Â
âThey shouldnât scar.â Chepe spoke up in a whisper.Â
âWouldnât care if they did.â It was spoken as she exhaled.Â
Chepe laughed. âYou say that because you know youâll still be as beautiful as ever.âÂ
That made Diedra smile, it took her a while to warm up to the compliments Chepe would feed her but eventually they made her smile.Â
âWhy donât you come to New York with me for a couple weeks. I think you could use the break.â He was so dangerously close to her, but it felt normal, it felt comforting. His hands were lightly on her skin, bringing one side of the cut closer to the other as the butterfly bandage pressed each side together.Â
âPacho needs me for something in a couple days in Medellin.â The excuse was spoken so quickly it was like she had it prepped and loaded.Â
âYou know if you asked heâd say yes in a heartbeat, and if he didnât he canât say no to me.âÂ
âBecause who could say no to that charming, smug face.â It was as close as a compliment that sheâd say out loud, but she showed her appreciation for him in other ways, just as he did for her.Â
âJust think about it.â He moved his hand to her chin and tilted her head up so she was forced to look into his eyes. Chepe wasnât asking for confirmation, he did it so he could place an intimate kiss on her lips, one that said everything for him.Â
As he pulled away his eyes fell on a cut that was on her neck. âLet me just clean this one real quick.â He was bringing the qtip up in a matter of seconds so he could wipe any stuck dirt and dried blood from it, and thatâs when his eyes caught the scar not too far off.Â
Diedra had a lot of scars along her body, some he was aware of, and many others he could only guess. This being one of the latter.Â
âDonât think you ever told me about this one.â He didnât dare to touch it, with where he was looking sheâd pick up on what he was talking about.Â
âDonât think I ever will.â Her eyes were on the mirror, staring at the scar in question, but what she was seeing was a flash of a memory she really tried to bury, her father coming to her rescue in a little gas station bathroom, the blood, the words she could barely get out as she explained everything to Happy. Â
âWhenever youâre ready, you just give me a name, a description, and Iâll make what you did to that man earlier today look like nothing.â His eyes were on Diedra through the mirror, his arms wrapping around her body, lightly so as to not make her ache in anymore pain.Â
âEasy killer.â She turned around now, the ice pack beginning to fall down her shoulder until Chepe caught it and pressed it a little harder against her skin, sending shivers down her body that didnât make her flinch in the slightest. âLet me eat dinner first and then we can talk about wiping out all the people whoâve ever wronged me.âÂ
She was squeezing out of his grip and making her way to the bedroom so ready to eat the food he had prepared.Â
âAnd then maybe we can talk about New York?â He called out down the hall, still in the bathroom so he could clean up the rest of the mess before joining her.Â
i have been so unbelievably excited for this fic ever since we started talking about it. and then i got to read some of it. and now i get to read it again!!!!! truly it's the gift that keeps on giving!!!
the way you IMMEDIATELY set the tone for the dynamic between these two by being like, "sometimes chepe felt dejavu" but the dejavu is Di beating the ever-loving shit out of people. that's love, baby!!! that's that good shit!!!
âNo one you need to be concerned with.â Pacho couldnât help the smirk on his face as he heard Chepeâs question <- the way Pacho ABSOLUTELY knows that chepe will be concerning himself with her lmao. he knows his guy
if Chepe tried to play the knight in shining armor heâd find himself getting rocked and bound to a chair himself. <- that's my GIRL!!!!!!
let the record show that i sooooo so much adore this idea of pacho taking such good care of her and sending her room service etc. like idk it just warms my heart so much despite the fact that he's being so kind to her for beating information out of people đ
i absolutely love love looooove how you took Diedra's backstory and wove it into this story. i love how her life in Charming led her directly to having a life in Colombia. i just!!!! i love her so much omg
âanswer me right now, or Iâll kill you over and over again.â <- the way that this is just SUUUUUUCH a Lowman thing to say. like yes. YES. she's Happy's daughter no one can deny!
love this little moment of her absolutely shitting all over Chepe's culinary skills only to have him come back happily with, "i actually made something amazing that you will love because you are a queen and i love you" đ
He took his sunglasses off, wanting to take in this moment in itâs entirety. âAgree to go out with me and Iâll tell you.â <- no but it's the way i am OBSESSEDDDDD with how he has always interacted with her. the two of them are just so unapologetically themselves 110% of the time and i feel like that's why they work so well together. but like i can just picture this little moment here sooooo fucking clearly in my head i could eat my whole hand
âThey shouldnât scar.â / âWouldnât care if they did.â / âYou say that because you know youâll still be as beautiful as ever.â <- no but the way i am SQUEAAAAAAAALING over this. i adore them. i adore them so much god I'm thrashing about in my office chair
âEasy killer....Let me eat dinner first and then we can talk about wiping out all the people whoâve ever wronged me.â <- it's actually insane how clearly i can hear her voice saying this. like i can picture the look on her face and her tone and just AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
AND TO END IT LIKE THAT????? ANJ I AM INCAPACITATED!!!!!!! I'm flopping about like a fish on dry land. I'm screaming crying throwing up i love them so much
i am so so so flattered that you took an oc that we drafted up together and gave her such an amazing story in such a cool little universe. weeping. sending you hugs and kisses through the screen đ„čđ„čđ„čđ„č
Request by the other half of my heart and brain @garbinge : what if one of the guys walked into that hospital chapel room, expecting to clear it out for the guys who are coming but there's someone in the room, crying. And maybe whichever guy that was tasked to come clear it out, ends up talking with them. I just think it'd be angsty with some trauma bonding
Warnings: 18+, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, hospitals, mentions of illness/hospice care
Word Count: 2.8k
A/N: okay anj and what if i said i'm viscerally attached to these two now???? what then????????
When Happy pushed the door open, he had been expecting to find the hospital chapel empty. It was late; visiting hours had been over for some time. He thought that the only person he might run into was the janitor or whoever came through to check and make sure the candles werenât going to end up burning the hospital down.
He didnât expect to walk through the doorway and see one person sitting in the middle of one of the pews. You werenât kneeling, instead just sitting on the unforgiving wooden seat and slumping forward. Your arms were folded, braced against the back of the bench in front of you with your forehead resting against them. He didnât hear anything, no sobs or sniffles.
Even though heâd been sent in there with the direction of clearing the place out, he closed the door as quietly as he could manage. The click of the latch was soft. It sounded deafening to him but you didnât even flinch.
He couldnât really see you, nothing other than your hair and the pattern on the back of the sweatshirt you were wearing. The hospital chapel was always dim, especially this late in the day. It was all soft lighting and flickering candles. The kind of place that would be peaceful for anyone, not just for the people who came in to send up a last desperate prayer or two.
Once he took a step forward the illusion of the place shattered. Heavy boots against the floor, the jingling of his chain against his jeans. He saw how you flinched, tilting your head slightly in his direction to hear better but not lifting it from where it laid perched on your forearms. Part of him admired that.
He could have stood at the end of the aisle and told you to get out. That had been his original plan. Actually, his original plan was to not even go past the doorway and scare everyone out without having to cross the threshold. But the task heâd been sent out on was officially placed on the backburner.
The wood creaked beneath him as he sat down beside you. It was oddly, uncomfortably close. The kind of close that strangers donât typically opt into if there are alternatives available, which there were plenty of considering the chapel was empty except for the two of you.
You could hear the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing due to the silence of the space and how near he was to you. Even before you turned your head to look at him you knew he was watching you. You knew that you shouldâve been scared. And maybe in some far, distant part of your brain you were, but you were too exhausted to reach that far inside yourself to do anything about it.
He locked eyes with you for a moment. Then he looked at the candles, the cross, then back to you again. The whole time you just watched him. You felt like you had everything about the chapel memorized now with how long youâd been in thereâhe was the only thing you didnât recognize.
When Happy looked at you again, he saw the tears in your eyes and on your cheeks. If the chapel had been lighter he would have been able to see the damp spots littering your sleeves, too.
You took a deep breath, trying to find it in yourself to say something since he clearly wasnât too keen on starting the conversation. Your cheek was still pressed against your sleeve as you asked, âDo I know you?â
The fact that you had to ask told Happy the answer to the question. He wasnât the kind of person you knew and forgot about, wasnât the kind of man people had lukewarm opinions on either. If the two of you had met before, youâd remember, even if he might not have.
âNo.â
You sniffled, brows furrowing in confusion. âDo you know Maggie?â
He shook his head but didnât say anything else. The fact that he didnât know you, or the person you were here for, and yet he was still choosing to sit so close to you, made the beginnings of a hundred questions pop up in your head. Too bad you were too drained to ask any of them. Besides, based on the conversational skills so far, you doubted that youâd get answers to very many of them anyway.
You finally forced yourself upright. As you were wiping away the remnants of tears from your cheeks, you asked, âDo you need something from me?â A little annoyance slipped through in your tone, and on a better day you would have apologized for it.
âI was supposed to come here and tell you to get out.â
That felt specific considering the two of you hadnât ever met. âMe?â
He nodded, then made a small gesture with his head to the rest of the room. âWhoever was in here. Tonight itâs you.â
Slumping back against the seat, you managed a weak chuckle. âDidnât realize that the hospital employed a chapel bouncer.â
âThey donât,â he replied, deadpan in a way that made you wonder if he didnât get that you were joking or was purposely treating your statement seriously.
âWhy?â you asked. The only thing that betrayed his confusion was the touching of his brows. You did your best to clarify. âWhy do you need me to leave?â
He shook his head. âCanât tell you.â
You were too exhausted to argue, but you were also tired enough to simply not want to get up from where you sat. âWhat happens if I donât?â There was no bite in your tone. It wasnât a challenge, per se. Maybe if you hadnât cried so much already it would have been.
He let silence ensue just long enough to send a prickle down your spine. You were smart enough to know what the lack of a response meant. You were about to give in and get up when he said, âI can buy you a few minutes.â
Something about the small kindness following an unspoken threat made you chuckle. âWhy would you do that?â
Instead of answering, he asked, âWho's Maggie?â
The sound of someone else saying her name made your chest tighten. He was the first person in a long, long time that had asked about her and he didnât even know her. He didnât know you, either. Everything unfolding around you felt like it wasn't making sense and you were fairly sure you couldnât blame that on your exhaustion. You wanted to ask him who he was, why he wanted to know any of this, why he wanted you out of the chapel. But him asking about Maggie was the closest thing to someone checking in on her or you in too long. Maybe it wasn't fair to unload onto a stranger, but he was asking. And he was also going to kick you out of the chapel as soon as you were done telling him so why not?
âShe's, uh, she's up a few floors. They're getting ready to set her up with hospice care. For the last few months she's just been,â you paused, bottom lip quivering, âshe's been in and out of the hospital a lot. And when she's inâŠit's notâŠâ
âNot making her better,â he finished for you.
You wiped the tears from your cheeks even though it was futile and more would be taking their place soon. âYeah. And, and when I came in yesterday and they said hospice I justââ The words stopped short, a choked sob stopping them halfway up your throat.
âShe your mom?â he asked.
The new bit of softness in his tone got you to meet his gaze again. He was frowning slightly, some of the hardness in his expression had faded. You didnât have to pry to know that he had asked that question for a reason.
âNotâŠno.â You buried your face in your hands. âShe's my ex's mom.â
âWhere the fuck is he, then?â he retorted with no hesitation.
âPrison,â you said, not missing a beat.
âShit.â
It got you to laugh. âHe deserves it. And, honestly,â you shook your head, âeven if he was out, he wouldnât be handling any of this. We're all better off with himâŠâ you trailed off, realizing how harsh it must've sounded to someone who didnât know you. âSorry. I know that probably sounds shitty.â
He shrugged. âHe sounds shitty.â
You hummed in amusement. âHe is. MaggieâŠMaggie's not, though.â You sniffled. âI missed her more than him after we split. We didnât, uh, it wasn't because he went inside. That happened a couple months after. Then a couple months after that she went into the hospital for the first time. And she said that with him inside I was the onlyâŠâ your voice quieted until you stopped speaking altogether. Shaking your head, you apologized, âSorry. ThisâŠthis doesn't matter. You don't know me.â You ran your hands down your thighs. âYou're just waiting for me toââ
âWhy'd you come here?â he asked, effectively cutting you off.
You shook your head. âIt's where desperate people go, isnât it?â you replied, trying to inject a little bit of levity into a scenario where it didnât quite fit. The flickering candles held both your attention and his as you said, âI never really got good at praying. Maggie, though, she never missed a Sunday until she started getting sick.â You didnât say it, but you couldnât help but to think that she spent most of those Sunday mornings in the pew praying for her son. Who didnât deserve it, in your humble opinion. âShe didnât ask me to or anything but I figured, I don't know, if she could get here she would.â You looked at him, a man who didnât seem like he'd knelt in a pew in a long, long time. If ever. âThink God takes prayers by proxy?â
âMaybe.â
Silence filled the space between you again, only this time there wasn't a lingering request for you to leave within it. As the two of you continued to sit there, you wondered if you had been someone else if he would have just grabbed you up by the arm and tossed you out. He seemed like the type who might, not that you really knew what type he was.
Gnawing at the inside of your bottom lip, you couldnât help but to ask, âIs it too late to ask you for your name?â
âHappy,â he replied, his one not at all matching his name.
You chuckled, waiting for the real answer to follow. It felt like a joke given everything that you could glean about him. When the silence persisted and it sank in with you that he wasn't joking, you cleared your throat and gathered up a response.
âRight. Makes about as much sense as the rest of it, I guess.â
In other scenarios this would be the part where you told him your name too, and you'd shake hands, and you'd have a conversation about the usual things you did with someone you didnât know at all. But the two of you had already turned the usual conventions on their heads, so what did any of it matter now?
Resting your hands on your knees, you prepared yourself to stand up and leave. You could already feel the way your joints were going to pop before you even moved, having sat slumped in the pews for far too long. Even if Happy hadn't shown up to kick you out, that should have been reason enough to finally hit the bricks.
âSorry for putting all my shit on you, Happy.â It felt strange to say his name, but strange in a way that made you smile despite all the mess. âGuess you're a good substitute for a priest in a pinch if they need someone for a confessional.â
That had him almost smiling. Just a little twitch of the lips but more than you'd gotten from him thus far. Apparently, he was the type of guy who could appreciate a little irony.
His expression returned to its previous state, one that didnât give you anything to go off of. You watched as his gaze drifted over to the candles. âHospice,â he said, quiet but not quite whispering.
Closing your eyes was a last-ditch effort to keep more tears from popping up. âYeah. There's some things that they can do for her here, but I just...she, she can'tâŠâ You trailed off, not able to end the sentence. There were some words you just weren't ready to say even if the reality of them was staring down the barrel at you.
Happy knew what you were saying without you having to say it. Maybe that was the kind of skill people honed when they weren't much for talking themselves. âYour house or hers?â he asked.
âHers,â you replied, a weak smile appearing on your face. âI, uh, I offered my place but she was pretty adamant. That's fair, though. She's earned that.â
âYou're moving in, then.â
You liked that he didnât ask it like a question. Nodding in agreement, you said, âGonna pack my stuff, and I'll be set up there by the time she's good to come home.â
He nodded in approval. âThey need someone there.â
It was your turn to state something instead of asking. âSpeaking from experience.â
âMoved my whole life around when my mom got sick. She was mad at firstâthen she needed me.â He shrugged. âWasn't as mad after that.â
âI'm sorry,â you offered, looking down at your hands. âBut it's good that you were there.â
Happy seemed like he was about as religious as you were, but he was staring straight ahead at the cross instead of at you as he spoke. âShe's a lot better now.â
âDidnât move your life back though, huh?â you asked, having a feeling you already knew the answer.
He shook his head. âI stay where I'm needed. When my girls were young they needed me here. They're grown now, though.â
You smiled. âSo back to mom's.â
âYeah.â
Then it was quiet again. Because of the hour, you didnât even hear any chaos from outside the chapel doors. You weren't sure how long the two of you sat there not saying anything, or even looking at each other. The part of you that still wasn't ready to face all the realities waiting for you on the side of the door covered in fluorescent lighting was more than ready to sit for as long as you could.
Slow creaking broke the silence, causing both you and Happy to turn back to the doors. You didnât recognize the man who was stepped halfway into the chapel, but you saw that he and Happy were only a few clothing articles away from perfectly matching outfits. The other man's long blonde hair set them pretty far apart, though.
He looked at you for hardly a moment before focusing on Happy. âHap, what the hell are you doing?â
You stood up before Happy could say anything. âHe was telling me that I should head out for the night.â With the door open now you could hear more footsteps heading your way. âI'll, uh, I'll get out of your way.â You looked down at Happy and gave him a small nod. âSorry. And, um, thanks.â
He didnât say anything, just nodding as you turned and walked out the other end of the pew. You made a point not to look too hard at any of the men who were coming into the chapel. You were almost to the door when Happy spoke up; it took a second for you to realize that it was you he was speaking to.
âHey.â
You turned back to face him. âYeah?â
âWhere'd you say they have your ex put up?â
Shaking your head, you answered, âI, uh, I didnât.â You felt all the extra pairs of eyes on you and did your best to ignore them. âButâŠStockton.â Happy nodded, but when he didnât say anything else, you asked, âWhy?â
âNo reason,â he said, not that you believed him.
Ignorance was bliss, though, and you had enough to deal with, so you nodded and kept making your way to the door. None of the other men said anything to you as you slipped past them. Making sure to shut the door behind you, you left to finally make your way home to start packing.
When Happy turned in the pew to face the rest of the guys, it was Jax who spoke up first on behalf of everyone. âWho was that?â
âNo one.â
Jax pinched his brows, not buying that in the slightest but not having anything to back himself up. âSure about that?â
Happy made a gesture to the expanse of the chapel. âIt's empty, isn't it?â
He knew better than to try and pry. âYeah, I guess.â
They all settled down into an ill-formed huddle. Jax wasted no time diving right into club business. Happy was listening, always listening. But every now and then his gaze would wander to the candles, and inevitably to the closed chapel doors.
(divider by @secretlysamcro đ€)
SOA Taglist: @withmyteeth @darqchilddaydreamz @justreblogginfics @winchestershiresauce @proceduralpassion @nessamc @lv7867 @kmc1989 (please let me know if you'd like to be added!)
OMG I HAVENâT BEEN ON TUMBLR ALL WEEKEND AND I COME BACK TO THIIIIIS LETS GOOOOOOOO
âOnce he took a step forward the illusion of the place shattered.â â âThe kind of close that strangers donât typically opt into if there are alternatives available,â Tay, Iâm sorry I wasnât familiar with your game!!! (Thatâs a lie I very much am) this writing is so detailed in such a quick to the point way, like okay THE TALENT!!!!
âAnd maybe in some far, distant part of your brain you were, but you were too exhausted to reach that far inside yourself to do anything about it.â AGAIN THESE DESCRIPTIONS!!!!!!!
âHe locked eyes with you for a moment. Then he looked at the candles, the cross, then back to you again.â Apparently Iâm going to be copying and pasting this entire thing but I love this. I love intentional beats like this. Like thereâs some meaning in the candles and the cross and the chapel and this moment between strangers and while weâre just getting into it I just FEEL the scene.Â
âThe fact that you had to ask told Happy the answer to the question. He wasnât the kind of person you knew and forgot about, wasnât the kind of man people had lukewarm opinions on either. If the two of you had met before, youâd remember, even if he might not have.â Tay. This. Detail. Is. Actually. Incredible. Sooo much character nuance is drenched in this. I love being inside of happyâs brain without being there.Â
âI was supposed to come here and tell you to get out.â That felt specific considering the two of you hadnât ever met. âMe?â Okay love this. Love how REAL THIS FEELS. Cause like, this could go in any direction in her mind, like was he tasked specifically to get HER out.Â
âWhat happens if I donât?â âŠ. âI can buy you a few minutes.â Hey so what if I never shut up about these two ever? What if I told you this means Happy is in love? Iâd be crazy I know, but I just know. Okay? Okay?Â
âShe your mom?â he asked. THE WEIGHT OF THIS COMING FROM HAPPY. TAY ARE YOU JOKING UGH SO MUCH EMOTION.Â
âIt's where desperate people go, isnât it?â Hey, that one hit me in the fucking gut!!!! :) :) :) :) :)Â
You looked at him, a man who didnât seem like he'd knelt in a pew in a long, long time. If ever. Thank you for the image of Happy kneeling in prayer. It feels oddly right while being entirely wrong???
That had him almost smiling. Just a little twitch of the lips but more than you'd gotten from him thus far. Apparently, he was the type of guy who could appreciate a little irony. Hey yeah, theyâre in love <3Â
He shook his head. âI stay where I'm needed. When my girls were young they needed me here. They're grown now, though.â UMMMMM EXCUSE ME THIS JUST OPENED THIS UP TO A WHOLLLLLLEEE NEW WORLD I WILL BE VOICE NOTING YOU ABOUT !!!!!!
âWhere'd you say they have your ex put up?â
AKHLDJFSLGJKFGH YEAH THEYâRE IN LOVE OKAYYYYY IM FERALLLLLLLLLL.
YEAH OKAY NEED MORE OF THEM IMMEDIATELY HOLY SHIIIIIITTTTTTTTTT. THereâs something about Jax clocking Happy that always gets me. Especially knowing this is in the same world potentially as Kota and Di, fajkslhdjkghjkh.Â
Tay thank you SOOOO much for this, will reread this a million times over <3 youâre the best!!!!!!!
Erin tended to stay confined in her room when her sister and her friends were over. It never used to be that way, when the two of them were younger she often was found right next to her sister or close behind. They were loud, Erin usually being the more lively of the two but the giggles that traveled throughout the halls of the Thomas house were from both of them. The two Thomas sisters were actually inseparable, even throughout Emilyâs years of high school. It was a sister bond that couldnât be swayed the way a friendship could, a sister bond that could withstand the typical disagreements and fights of siblings. A sister bond that could still hold itself close to what it originally and always was. A sister bond that would eventually break when Emily came home on break from college.
Erin was never a fan of Miguel since that day her older sister brought him over to meet the family on that first Thanksgiving break of Emilyâs college years. He was arrogant, opinionated, smug and overall just a dickhead as Erin so boldly put it. Which is why whenever Emily had him and his friends over, Erin found herself fully content alone in her room.
Currently, she sat on her bean bag chair with her headphones over her ears, there was a notebook in her hand as she doodled the time away, her legs were probably going to start falling asleep as the minutes passed with them tucked close to her chest and her feet tangled in the depths of the sunken bean bag.
Despite the volume of her music being pretty high, she could still hear the laughs and noises of her sisterâs company downstairs. It was normally around the time sheâd use the noise as an excuse to get up and stretch her legs and then close the door but she found herself at this moment, doorless. It was an old school punishment but her mother had insisted their housekeeper removed the door of the younger Thomas girlâs bedroom after a pretty heated argument between the two. Privacy was a privilege and privacy is earned. Her motherâs words were so typical of a parent who had lost control of their teenage daughter and was scrambling to try and regain it back.
Erin was feeling the consequences of her loss of privacy when she looked up to see someone in the hallway staring at her. If she didnât know her sister had people over she probably would have screamed and made some flailing attempt at bum rushing the man in her own defense but she just assumed it was one of Emily or Miguelâs loser friends.
âYouâre fuckinâ creepy.â Erin had removed her headphones and readjusted herself to stare back at the kid.
âSorry.â The man looked flustered and pointed behind him to the balcony and then to the stairs. âI, uh, they told me to leave them alone so Iâm kind of just roaming around trying to avoid them.â
Erin frowned now and stood up, she saw the man tense up by her abruptness and while Erin loved to tease people, she ignored the temptation in her to jump scare this random person as she moved to look over the balcony into the living room.
The patio door had been opened and through the big living room window she could see her sister, Miguel, a couple random people and someone who looked just like the man 5 feet from her but with a beard in the pool that was just recently opened for summer. It was slowly coming together for her, all assumptions, but she was pretty firm in her thinking.
A nod shook from her head as she pushed off the railing and moved back into her room, just as she re-entered the bedroom her head looked over her shoulder at the man who was clearly nervous and frozen in the middle of the hallway.
âNo invite needed when thereâs no door to block you out.â Erin waved her hand in a very over-exaggerated way to invite the man in.
He was still nervous but listened to the girlâs words and stepped into her room, trying to look around at his surroundings but not wanting to be any more intrusive than he had been.
âPrivacy is a privilege.â The girl spoke those words in a mocking way as she plopped down on her bed and waved her arms again in an attempt to tell the man he could look around freely.
âIs that why you donât have a door?â He asked, looking around at the posters taped to the walls.
âI donât have a door because Diana is a bitch.â
Nestor turned to look at the girl with an inquisitive look.
âMy loving and adoring mother.â Erin smiled so sarcastically.
âErin.â The man pointed to the artwork above where her door should have been, it was a calligraphy artwork of her name, each letter made from a different tropical plant.
âThatâs me.â She said grabbing a stuffed animal off her bed to use as a pillow to rest her arms on.
âNice picture.â The man tried to match Erinâs sarcasm but it definitely needed some work.
âLast thing my dad got me before he left.â
âLeft to where?â He asked so nonchalantly and was left shocked by her response.
âPrison.â It was one word but it felt so heavy leaving Erinâs mouth despite her light way of saying it. Her inflection made prison seem like it was stepping out to run an errand but the weight of what she truly said wasnât lost on him. His head snapped to look at her, surprise all over his face and all Erin did was smile. âSo you know all these fun things about me, what about you, mystery man?â
âMystery man?â His eyes frowned.
âOkay, mystery boy. Puberty looks fresh on you.â Her face was twisted in a devious smile at the comment and her eyes were scanning him up and down.
âI just turned 17.â
Erin knew she struck a cord there. âAttacking your manliness, men are so easy.â She rolled her eyes. âWhatâs your name, mystery boy?â She continued with her teasing.
He stood there, annoyed slightly debating if he was going to walk out or cave in and give his name. It only took one second for his decision to be made. All it took was for the slightest smirk to flash on Erinâs face for all but a second, it was likely her reading him, realizing he was about to bolt but whatever it was it made him speak immediately.
âNestor.â
âSounds like a serial killer's name.â She scoffed and stood up to go by her desk in search of something.
âYouâre really rude.â Nestor was again feeling defensive but he had an odd smile on his face.
âRude or honest?â Erin responded so quickly it made Nestor realize it probably wasnât the first time she had been accused of being rude. That and she was still rummaging through the things on her desk with no care in the world.
âHere.â She handed him a DVD, Nestor was now realizing this was what she had been searching for the entire time.
âKill Bill?â Nestor was still so utterly confused by the girl.
âAbout a killer. Thought youâd like it.â The sarcasm and humor was now dancing with each other as it flew off her tongue.
âSheâs technically an assassin.â Nestor was flipping the DVD box over.
âYouâve seen it?â Erin was leaning back against her desk with her arms crossed.
âAbout a million times. Itâs a classic.â He placed the DVD back on her desk when his eyes caught a bunch of different movies scattered around.
âIâm a movie buff.â She shrugged seeing him look over her array of films.
âClassics.â He specified as he noticed the theme to all the disk cases.
âDying breed.â Erin responded.
âIâve seen pretty much every one of these at least 3-4 times.â Nestor was still scanning over the different movies. âExcept this one.â
âYouâre lying.â It was as serious as he had seen Erin since he met her only ten minutes ago. âYouâve never seen Die Hard.â She phrased it as a statement over a question but the way the movie title fell from her lips was like it was a disgrace. âThis is like THE classic. I canât believe youâve seen The Sound of fucking Music but not Die Hard.â Her voice was full of shock and honestly a little betrayal as she picked up the Sound of Music disk.
âTo be fair I havenât seen The Sound of Music, either.â Nestor shrugged, the odds the girl would pick up one of the few he hadnât seen didnât go over his head.
âWhatever, youâre not missing much, I mean Julie Andrews is perfect but itâs singing and nunnery and love. I mean itâs actually great but I canât believe the serial killer in my room right now has not watched Die Hard.â It was one long-winded sentence and she took a deep breath at the end as she stared at Nestor before jumping into another statement. âYouâre coming over Friday. Weâre watching Die Hard.â Her head was shaking as she moved back over to her bed and grabbed something from her nightstand.
âYou were going to give me Kill Bill to watch on my own.â This was his version of hard to get.
Erin rolled her eyes but it went unnoticed since she was rummaging around her nightstand just to pull out a post-it and start writing on it.
âYou get dragged along with your older brother, donât you?â
Nestor should have been way more aware now to not be shocked by this girl, but he was pretty taken back that she knew.
âHowâd you know?â
She turned back around now and looked at him. âIf you were friends with them they wouldnât kick you out. Plus you look like a younger version of the guy that comes with Miguel.â
âWhy donât you hang out with them?â Nestor was genuinely curious.
âBecause my older sister kicked me out too.â
âMy parents are dead so my brother feels forced to bring me everywhere.â
It was such a heavy statement but said with such ease, very similar to how Erin had told him about her incarcerated father. And Erin got it. She really got it.
Emily and Erin might have had tension between them now that she was getting more involved with Miguel but they both had something that kept them familial. Their parents. Their father was a dark and mysterious man who ended up in prison when they were young and they both equally hated their mother.
With a nod, Erin stood up and stuck the post-it note to Nestorâs chest. He looked down, she wrote on it upside down so he was able to read it immediately.
Movie Night Friday @ 8, bring candy. Tons of it.
âThey always get together on Friday Nights here. Ever since school got out for them.â Erin explained.
âSo Iâll be here anyway.â He caught on to what she was saying.
âWith candy.â Erin interjected.
âWith candy.â He laughed and removed the post-it from his chest.
âNestor!!â A deep voice from downstairs called up interrupting them. âWe gotta go!!!â
âI gotta go.â Nestor pointed and began to take steps towards the empty doorway, the smile while faded still filled his face.
Erin smirked, âDo what you gotta do, mystery boy.â
__________
That was all it took. The two 17 year olds became some version of friends as time passed. Honestly, they could have been best friends, but neither of them would have said it out loud. And lucky enough for the both of them, neither Nestorâs brother or Emily cared enough to say anything to them. They probably hadnât even taken notice enough to even tease them about it.
Erin was passing the bowl of popcorn over to Nestor who was at the opposite side of the couch.
âSo you relate to Maria right?â Nestorâs eyes were glued to the TV as his hand extended out to grab the popcorn.
âAre you asking me if I relate to the main character in Sound of fucking Music?â Erin was sprawled on the couch now, her feet taking up a majority of the cushions. She was taking full offense to Nestor's comment and had the tone to prove it.
âI just mean she got sent to this dudeâs house because she doesnât really like rules. Isnât your mom sending you to that school because you donât really like rules?â Nestorâs voice still stayed casual despite Erinâs bark.
âWe watch these movies because theyâre classics not to start a philosophical discussion, blondie.â Erin dismissed him by extending her left foot out and pushing his thigh slightly. The popcorn bowl in his hand spilled out a couple pieces and Nestor let out a laugh at the whole thing.
âI bleached my hair like two weeks ago, when are you going to drop it, red?â Nestor retorted back as he picked up the fallen pieces of popcorn and placed the bowl on the side table next to him.
âYea, see, Red just doesnât land the same.â Erin was now crossing her arms and looking over at Nestor. âPlus, you made the impulsive decision to bleach your hair, like, you chose to do whatever that is with your hair,â she pointed to his fried hair which had already grown in his natural roots, âwhich earns joking rights, I was born with red hair so it just isnât the same.â
âJulie Andrews has blonde hair.â Nestor pointed to the TV screen.
âJulie Andrews is Julie Andrews.â That was all the explanation Erin needed to use on that argument.
âHow is the new school?â Nestor changed subjects.
âSucks.â It was obvious Erin didnât want to talk about it.
âWow itâs like I can envision it with how you describe it.â He wasnât going to let her dismiss it that easily.
She sarcastically added in an adverb for more detail, âReally sucks.â
âWell now youâre just talking too much.â She had met her match with Nestor.
âWell, we are watching a movie.â The smile on Erinâs face was saying way more than her words ever could. They were saying she felt uncomfortable, that something had to have happened at the school for her to not lay into it in her comedic, sardonic way.
âWhy wonât you tell me what happened?â
âFine you want to know?â Erin was shooting up from her laid back position and now sitting up, her body tense and aggravated. It was like she was a bear and Nestor had done nothing but poke her to irateness. âYou really want to know how my new private school is? Itâs real swell, we get lockers, mine got vandalized but itâs nothing some nail polish remover and a little elbow grease wonât take care of. The classes are great, learning lots, like how to get kids to stop stealing my stuff or knocking it off my desk.â
It had snapped Erin, the frustration from this last week at her new school was getting hard to cope with and now she was like a floodgate of emotions.
Nestor just sat there, calmly, and listened. When she had taken a moment to breathe deep, he slightly moved forward to pause the movie.
The gesture and the silence that now surrounded them made Erin feel comfortable in some odd way. Comfortable enough to say one more thing.
âThey call me Connie.â It was spoken at such a whisper, it was so unlike Erin. Nestor wasnât even sure if he had ever heard her speak at that volume let alone look the way she looked. She usually took most things with stride, with an attitude and comeback.
âConnie?â Nestor frowned, not only uneasy about her state of being but also confused at the name.
âShort for convict. Apparently everyone figured out my dadâs in prison.â
Now it all came together for Nestor, he knew that could be a tipping point for the girl. She might have been nonchalant in how she talked about it but it didnât take a genius to realize it was a real weight on her.
âIs that what they wrote on your locker?â
âNo, that wouldâve been too kind. They drew bars and some shitty version of someone dropping a bar of soap.â
Nestor knew there was nothing he could do, it was a completely different school than where he went and there wasnât any way he could unenroll her so he did what he did best and just sat and listened to her.
âYou wanna finish the movie?â That was Erinâs way of signaling she was done with the conversation. It was Friday night, she wanted a weekend free of school and thoughts of it. Before Nestor could answer he was being interrupted by another voice.
âWhat are you guys watching?â Miguel had popped into the living room from the kitchen, a fresh beer in his hand as he brought it up to his mouth to drink. His other hand was in his pocket as he stood behind the couch, right in the middle of Erin and Nestor who were still on separate sides of the sofa.
âHey Mikey.â Nestor nodded to the man.
Erin did all but physically gag as she looked at Miguel. Her eyes rolled, her body language shifted and the attitude was practically dripping off her without a word even being spoken.
âSound of Music, huh?.â Miguel spotted the DVD case on the coffee table. âDidnât take either of you as the musical type.â
âItâs a classic.â Erin spoke firmly without even looking at Miguel.
âAh,â He nodded and took another sip of his beer. âAnd youâre a fan of the classics arenât you, Erin?â
âDid you need something, Mike?â Erin snapped her head back to look at the man, the Americanized version of his name slipping off her tongue more harshly than the rest of her sentence.
The smile that grew on his face made her want to grab the popcorn bucket and dump it over his head.
âActually yea, we were all gonna watch a movie in here, your sister sent me to kick you out. I argued to let you guys be, you seem,â He looked at the large amount of space between you and Nestor and chuckled, âcozy.â
âErin, out. Weâre using the TV.â Emilyâs voice came echoing in from the outside patio with a few other mumbles of laughs and conversations behind them.
âWe have like 3 TVs in this house, you need this one?â Erinâs voice changed. It wasnât dripping with the same attitude she had towards Miguel, it was still annoyed, but a lovingly annoyed if that was possible.
âWhy donât you use one of the other TVs.â Emily was barely even paying attention to her sister as she spoke.
âWhy donât you guys do something?â Nestorâs brother was now speaking as he joined Miguel in standing behind the couch. His hand resting on the backrest before he jumped over and plopped down in the middle of the couch. Erin was happy her feet werenât there any longer because she would have had to jerk them back.
Just as she went to argue, the jingle of metal sounded as Nestorâs brother reached in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. âTake my car. Scram.â He was throwing them over to Nestor.
âYou want to get ice cream?â Nestor asked Erin, not wanting to fight with either Miguel or his brother.
âFoster Freeze.â It was a demand from Erinâs mouth as she stood up and grabbed her stuff off the coffee table and draped her bag over her shoulder.
âMomâs going to be home at 10. So be home then.â Emily said as she quickly took the spot Erin was in.
âSo you kick me out and then give me a curfew?â Erin was turning around with her arms extended out in a version of disbelief.
âFor your own good.â Emily acted like she was looking out for her little sister.
âYou can lie to yourself but donât lie to me.â Erin was grabbing her jacket from the closet when the words left her mouth.
Emily had turned on the TV which drowned out the sound of Erinâs voice from her ears. With an eye roll and a heavy stomp of her feet Erin exited the house with a deep exhale, barely missing Nestorâs shoulder with her own. She didnât want to take her frustration out on him but part of her couldnât help it when she saw how docile he got around his brother and Miguel.
Silence was at the top of the conversation between Erin and Nestor as they sat across the booth from each other. As each clank of metal utensils hit the glass jars Erin grew more and more annoyed. It felt like her rage was moving a degree up a thermometer with every spoonful of ice cream.
âSo you wanna talk about it?â Nestor wasnât even looking at Erin when the words left his mouth, in fact the words were even muffled as the spoonful of ice cream melted in his mouth.
That broke Erin. Her frustration fully apparent now as she tossed the spoon into her glass causing it to clink around loudly and fall on the table with a couple more loud noises.
âWhy the fuck do you suck their dicks like that?â
âExcuse me?â Nestor looked up from his ice cream, frown extremely evident on his face.
âOh donât play fuckinâ coy. It doesnât suit you.â Her back fell against the back of the booth as her arms crossed, her head shook, and her eyes stared off to the side of the shoppe.
âWhat are you talking about?â Nestor was looking straight at Erin now.
âThat shit with them, you act like theyâre cool, likeâlike theyâre your friends.â The disgust was evident in her voice.
âIâm pretty sure I said like five words.â Nestor was confused, he had asked Erin if she wanted to talk about it because he thought all her frustration was at Emily not him.
âHey Mikey.â Erinâs voice got deep as she rocked her shoulders back and forth in an attempt to mock Nestor. If he thought the way she said Mike before was harsh, the addition of the vowel on the end of the manâs nickname in her mockery was ten times that.
âThatâs two words.â Nestor was getting annoyed, his leg began shaking as he moved it up and down.
âYea two words that make me want to throw upâyouâre so fucking nice to them, for what?â Erinâs face was twisted in pure confusion. In her head right now there was no explanation that would be worthy to her. She couldnât stand any one of her sisterâs friends, and honestly, her sister was probably top of that list at the moment. Truthfully, all of this anger was a result of pain and hurt. She missed her sister, and blamed the people she hung out with for taking her away. While that did hold some truth, most of Erinâs anger was misplaced there, it really came from her feeling like she was losing everyone around her. She lost her father when he went to jail, her mother shortly after that to her attitude and the bottle, and now her sister.
âTheyâre all I got.â Nestorâs voice was so much the opposite of Erinâs, his demeanor was calm, solemn, almost peaceful. âWhen I lost my parents, my brother took me in, he might be a dick sometimes but heâs done everything for me.â He shook his head, âand Mikey, heâs like a brother to me.â A shrug left his shoulders. âI get it, theyâre jerks right, but when push came to shove theyâd be there for me.â
âYou believe that?â Erin still was holding on to whatever parts of her anger that she could even though she sympathized with Nestor, maybe even got a little jealous of the dynamics he shared.
âI know it.â Nestor was firm in his voice, no doubt at all. âItâs the same with you, your sister would do anything for you.â
âI donât believe that.â Erin rolled her eyes.
âYou donât have to, but itâs the truth.â Nestor scooped the last of his ice cream in his mouth and nodded. âWhen it comes down to that make or break moment, sheâd be there for you.â
Another set of eye rolls came from Erin as she let out a huff. âI donât have anyone.â
âYou have me.â Nestor now leaned back against the booth and crossed his own arms matching Erinâs pose.
Her eyes darted up immediately to meet his. âI donât believe that.â She repeated the same sentence as before but this time it was said in a way like she wanted him to convince her.
âWell keep up with the crude comments and I donât know.â He was joking, but before he could double down with another joke his eyes met Erinâs and he knew immediately what she was looking for.
âYou got me, you know that, right?â
Erin sat there, there were a bunch of things going through her mind at this point. Her frustration was still lingering. Thoughts of Miguel and Nestorâs brother casually floating around, her sister, the relationship they used to have compared to now, the words Nestor said about Emily, wondering if they really did hold truth. But now, the main thing in her head was that this man, this man who was just some strange boy standing in front of her bedroom door 5 months ago was now telling her he was going to be there for herâno, is there for her. Erin hadnât trusted a man since her father and despite the love she had for him, he was the reason she couldnât find it in her to trust anyone. Everyone leaves. It was what she had to tell herself to keep the emotions at bay, control situations, it was why the Emily situation hurt her so much, she trusted her and now felt like she was betraying that trust.
And now, the boy who was telling her that Emily wasnât betraying her, that when it really came down to it sheâd be there, was telling her that he was there.
âI donât have anyone.â Erin mumbled the words but Nestor heard them perfectly.
âHey, Iâm here.â Nestor was bending his head down to meet Erinâs gaze which had fallen to the floor. His voice was optimistic, it was almost like he didnât understand the weight of what he was saying, and honestly he didnât, but it didnât matter to Erin because in this moment she just needed someone, someone who would be there.
âOkay.â Erinâs voice had completely flipped since the beginning of their conversation. It was soft, shaky, and even a little weepy as a tear fell down her cheek.
Nestorâs hand came out to grab hers and with it came a squeeze. Erin was glad that was all it was because if he had gotten up to hug her it would have released the flood gates entirely and she would be a sobbing mess in the middle of her favorite ice cream place.
âIâm gonna go pay, Iâll be right back, okay?â
Erin had started to pull herself back together, her attitude and normal toned voice coming back along with the tears fully disappeared from her face now as she wiped it clean.
âYea, do what you gotta do.â
____________
Erin didnât want to go to prom, it wasnât exactly her scene. It also wasnât like she was close friends with anyone at her school, most everyone found their reasons to bully her and make fun of her. All of that gave her one giant reason to say no to going to prom. But then Diana happened to come across the info online. If there was shopping involved, especially for a dress, Diane was in. That didnât mean Erin wasnât going to actively and loudly complain about it. Every time they went dress shopping, every fitting, every mention at something to do with prom, Erin let her opinion on it be known. But deep down, she was happy that her mom was forcing her to go, because it brought her and Emily together on something and it was the first time in a long time where the two girls actually enjoyed being together.
The two were laughing, they were whispering and gossiping like middle schoolers, they were causing trouble in stores, having their mother yell at them like they were children again. It made every prom task bearable. Emily had been home for the summer, Miguel had stayed back on campus for an additional month to take a quick summer course. It was what Erin would have described as a dream. Her weeknights were movies with Nestor and ice cream afterwards with Emily. Once or twice the three hung out together, but that basically consisted of Nestor third wheeling all while the young Thomas girl teased him for being so quiet and shy.
The month of May might have become some of Erinâs most treasured days. It didnât matter that she had to go to prom or that she had to go to that stupid school, she had two of her favorite people to lean on and that was all she needed.
The doorbell rang and it caused a frown to fill Erinâs face as she turned in her floor length royal blue dress that was picked out by her mother. Emilyâs face turned into a grin as she moved to the door, resting her digital camera to the side for the first time since her little sister had entered the living room. It didnât matter that Emily was the one who was upstairs with Erin for hours getting her ready and was able to take all of this in then, she needed to document as much of this moment as possible.
âWho is that?â Diana looked visibly annoyed. The audacity of someone interrupting her special night.
As Emily approached with someone very closely behind her, she stepped aside as the hallway ended and the living room began and swiftly moved to the right. With eagerness in her voice, and a smile that easily reached from ear to ear, she introduced the person who was walking in behind her.
âLook whoâs here! Itâs Nestor!â
Erinâs face was shocked, not because he was here and seeing her in this ridiculous prom dress but because he was standing 5 feet from her, in a suit. His hair was freshly shaped up on the sides and gelled curls sitting on the top, as Erinâs eyes moved down, she saw his black skinny tie tucked behind the lapels of his black suit jacket, all accented against the crisp white button up. Her gaze moved over to his left where his pocket sat. Within it was a rich blue handkerchief sticking out where a matching boutonniere was clipped on. The deep blue flower and babyâs breath didnât just match her dress with the perfect royal hue but it was paired with the corsage he was fiddling with in his hands.
Thatâs when a small smile tugged at her face. As she stared at the corsage in his hands, she saw the rings still on his hands, one his brother had gifted him for his birthday, and the other that he had always sported since she met him. Taking in this completely new Nestor felt a lot easier seeing those rings.
âWhat are you doing here?â Erinâs voice was a whisper and despite her excitement peaking through slightly, there was still some confusion in her tone.
âI, uh, asked him to be your date tonight.â Emily had her mouth closed but she was smiling as she said it, her eyes bouncing from her sister and the man to her left.
âOh shoot!â Emily gasped. âI should have taken a picture of your reaction, can you make the face again, reenact it, oh my gosh, look itâs Nestor in a suit!â Emily tried to mimic her words from before while adding in some description for context of what she was looking for from Erin. But before she could even bring the camera up to her face to look through the viewfinder, there was a nagging voice interrupting.
âEmily, you didnât match the colors. If you were going to do this little surprise for your sister, the least you could have done was put a little effort into getting them to look like dates.â Dianaâs whining voice filled the air.
âMom, can you just relax, enjoy the moment.â Emily was moving over to her mother to ease the tension she was inevitably bringing to the room. âNestor, go over by Erin, let us take a few pictures so you both can get out of here.â Emilyâs eyes rolled to look over at her mother and then quickly changed to look through her camera, ready to snap a few pictures and push the two out.
The minute Erin closed the car door she was turning to look at Nestor. âWhat the hell are you doing?
âGoing to prom.â Nestor shrugged as he leaned forward to turn the key into the ignition.
âYea, but why?â Erin looked around to realize that this was his brotherâs car, his prize possession. âAnd why are we in your brother's car?â
âYour sister asked. Plus, I figured you could use some friendly company tonight.â It was said so nonchalantly.
âAnd the car?â Erin accepted his statement about coming with her to prom and was waiting for the answer to her last question.
âThe car,â his grin grew wide, âthe car, I stole from my brother.â Nestor began to drive out of the Thomasâ driveway. His left hand was tight on the wheel and his right was resting comfortably on the middle console as the 91 Nissan coasted on the neighborhood streets of Santo Padre.
âHeâs gonna kill you.â Erin matched his grin and fell back comfortably in the seat.
âWorth it.â A shrug fell from Nestorâs shoulders before he turned right to get on the main highway. âI know how much you love this car, itâs the one thing about my brother that doesnât make you mumble under your breath or roll your eyes.â Nestor knew Erin so well. âIf anything,â he pointed with his right hand while still staring out the windshield, âyou actually stare mesmerized at this thing whenever he pulls up in it.â
âItâs cool.â Her shoulders lifted up and fell quickly trying to seem as indifferent as possible. âPlus,â she quickly added another statement in her own defense, âit's purple, who doesnât stare at a purple car.â
Nestor nodded, he wasnât going to argue with the girl, especially not on her prom night. Instead he just looked at how empty the highway was, then a thought popped into his brain. It took him a minute to decide if it was a good idea but ultimately he thought âwhat did he have to loseâ? His foot pressed against the gas, his eyes quickly glancing over to see the pure joy on Erinâs face as the odometer kept increasing as they made their way to her school.
___________
Prom was uneventful, but if Erin was honest she was beyond grateful Nestor was there with her. It made the night not just bearable but maybe even a little enjoyable.
Currently the two were leaving the photo booth, full of laughs. âThe fun flaskâ, as Erin referred to it, was on its last leg. There was maybe 4 shots left in it which would likely not be evenly distributed between them both.
âYou wanna dance?â Nestorâs hand on Erinâs back as he guided her out of the booth didnât go unnoticed by the girl.
âYouâre drunk.â She accused him with a quick whip of her neck to stare at him shocked by his words.
âNo, but you are. Youâve been sipping way more from that flask than I have.â Nestor pointed out.
Erinâs eyes moved from Nestor to the dance floor to see the big crowd of people on the wooden tiles. âIf Iâm drunk, I donât know how smart hitting the dance floorâs gonna be, Nes.â Erinâs eyebrows lifted up as he head tilted.
âWhatâd I tell you? I got you.â His hand tightened on her back and before she could answer her feet were moving her closer to the crowd.
The song slowed down, offering them up a moment to take things easy as they swayed back and forth. Nestorâs hands were comfortably resting on Nestorâs back, her long red hair brushing against them as the slight breeze from their side by side movements. Nestor wasnât drunk, but those couple shots he did take earlier in the night were giving him the liquid courage to have his fingers playing around in the ends of it.
And Erin was drunk enough to not only let it happen but mention it.
âYouâre handsy tonight.â She beamed as she said it.
âSo are you.â Nestor looked down to where her arms rested on his shoulders, her hands were twisted over each other behind his neck and mindlessly playing with the curls of his she could reach.
âYou know, between you and the fun flask, this night went from bearable to maybe a little enjoyable, to one of the best nights Iâve had in a really long time.â
It was one of the handful of times Erin had said something that wasnât tainted in sarcasm or a joke. Any one of those attributes that while Nestor had a secret appreciation for, he couldnât help but also love these rare intimate moments with the girl.
âIâm glad I came.â Nestor held his composure as he always did, despite feeling the nerves and sweat all as his heartbeat sped up.
Subconsciously the two moved closer together, their bodies resting against each other, their foreheads centimeters from touching. Nestorâs left hand moved up to grab Erinâs right. His hand first caressed up to her arm, it was light and made Erinâs heart flutter, but then when it rested as a soft grip on her hand her heart started to beat heavy. She suddenly became super aware of how close the two were to each other. Every thought running through her mind at light speed. The endless nights the two had spent together but not one where they were remotely this close, or looked this good. The laughs were nothing compared to the giggles the two shared tonight. Erin never realized any of this before, and if she did she made damn sure to bury it deep without giving it a single thought. Nestor on the other hand, realized it every time he looked at her, every time she spoke, yelled, rolled her eyes. From the moment he saw her, Nestor knew he had feelings for her. But he never could find it in him to act on it.
Itâs why now he couldnât either.
âI have to tell you something.â The words were drowned out by the crowd and music, so when Erin had replied âwhat?â it was in hopes Nestor would repeat the sentence but instead he just shared the news and to his luck the DJ had just began to fade out the song.
âI joined the Navy, I leave on the first day of summer.â
Erin felt everything in her freeze, but that was after everything dropped. Her heart fell to her stomach, her stomach fell to the floor it felt like and then everything just froze. She thought it was like 10 minutes of her just standing there, but it was barely 10 seconds.
âWowâuh,âwell, we know blue is your color.â Erinâs eyes moved to the boutonniere and her hands loosened slightly from behind his neck but didnât fall completely.
âAre you mad?â The worry in Nestorâs face did something to Erin. It made everything that she wanted to do just mere seconds ago disappear. The sarcasm was rising back up, her coping mechanism to this exact thing falling into all the right places. But instead of being mean about it, she took her acerbity and decided to joke.
âNot mad, G.I. Joe. Confused how youâre going to make it out at sea when you couldnât even swim in a pool after watching Jaws.â
âI told you that happened when I was a kid, I was like 10.â Nestor defended himself.
âWhen we rewatched it I saw how you looked at our pool the next day. Looking for fins and ghosts of marine biologists.â
âIâm glad youâre not mad, I thought youâd be mad.â
If he says mad one more time Iâm going to rage. Was the thought in her head but the words that came out were ones of opposition. âNope, not mad.
âI feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.â Nestor smiled, the irony that he was removing her hands from around his neck in the moment he said that. âI gotta take a piss, Iâll be right back, okay?â He squeezed her hands before dropping them and walking away before he could hear the girlâs answer.
Erin stood there, alone, watching Nestor walk away as every emotion she tried so hard to bury for years came barreling to the forefront and just let out a murmur.
âYea, do what you gotta do.â
__________
The time passed differently when there was a countdown attached to it. There was always a weight hanging over each day, pressure to make the most out of what was left. Each day that the sun stayed out a little longer meant a little less time that was left Nestor went away to boot camp. It was ironic how the days were getting longer but it was just a sign that they were running out.
âLast night home.â Erin plopped down next to Nestor who was sitting on a park bench as the festival that always kicked off the day before summer started commenced in front of them. Erin was holding out a corn dog for Nestor while she started to eat hers.
âI donât know why you like these things.â He spoke completely ignoring her comment and going to take a bite from the corndog before he took it out of her hand.
âYet you still eat them.â Erinâs mouth was full as she spoke with a shoulder raise and head shake in disbelief at the words coming out of his mouth.
âItâs like theyâre so bad that theyâre good.â He explained.
It got quiet between the two as they ate, a comfortable silence as the noises of the festival around them filled the air. Laughs from children chasing each other on the concrete street that was blocked off from cars and littered with food trucks and stands selling things. Music from a live band just a few 100 feet to their left near the parkâs lake. The white noise from the bouncy houses that were behind them set up on the large fields of grass.
âRemember this festival last year?â Erin changed topics as she dipped half of her corn dog in cheese.
As she did it, Nestor looked over and realized what she was doing and quickly dipped his own food into the small cheese cup in Erinâs hand.
âYea, you threw up the 5 corndogs you ate.â Nestor let out a laugh.
âIt was 7,â she clarified, those extra two corn dogs might not have mattered to anyone else but to her they were the culprits of what pushed her to get sick, âbut I meant the movie.â
âSound of Music.â Nestorâs voice had a smile in it, almost like he knew what Erin was going to say next.
âThe unfinished movie.â There was a bit of disappointment in her voice.
âThey might be playing it tonight.â Hopeful, that was the best way to describe how he was speaking to Erin.
âThey arenât. I checked.â Erin let out a sigh as she fell back against the rest of the bench.
âYou want to head to your place? We could watch it there.â
It was obvious, the tension in the air. It all came down to these last few hours. Erin wanted to say yes, she wanted to share the full list of things she had started on prom night. She wanted to grab him by his stupid band t-shirt and pull his face to her own, she wanted to tell him how she felt, every thought that she had regarding him. She wanted to tell him not to go, not to leave. But instead nothing of that sort came out.
âNo, itâs okay. Letâs just walk around.â Erin shook her head and immediately was standing up so that there was no room for arguments. She was probably two or three feet away when she turned to the man and nodded her head to the side, pointing to the large area of the park that was blocked off with fair games and prizes. âLetâs see who can beat who in the water gun race, we can call it your first bootcamp training.â
Nestor looked down, his arm was extended on the back rest of the bench as he let out a laugh. âYouâre on.â
______
If Erin thought the weight of the days prior felt heavy, this morning made it look like the force of a feather. It took everything in her to get out of bed, to get dressed. It didnât help that saying goodbye felt nothing like their normal days. Despite the obviousness of it all, it was the surrounding of people Erin couldnât stand. People who wouldnât miss him the way she would, some who would but in their own way. Erin stood behind Miguel and the other Oceteva. Emily was there too, along with a few of their other friends. Most of them standing ahead of Erin, giving handshakes and pep talks mixed with hugs and laughs. Erin felt like a stranger, like an outsider. It was a feeling sheâd have to get used to, she was about to be alone again. She hated comparing the two, but it reminded her heavily about her father. Erin couldnât help but think that she was just meant to be in this world solo, no friends, no one close, just her against life.
It wouldnât be the worst thing, but after experiencing loss time and time again, Erin couldnât help but feel she just made it worse on herself.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the sun suddenly stopped shining on her face and it was just a dark shadow in replacement of it. Looking up she saw Nestor, in his boot camp uniform, his hair freshly cut, likely by his brother this morning. He looked nothing like the man she knew, which she thought would make this easier but it made it even harder.
âSo I guess, this is it.â Erin held her hand up in an effort to block the sun from hitting her eyes but it was just a displacement behavior to hide her face from Nestor and hopefully manage any emotion that was building up.
âIâm gonna write, you know.â Nestor had his typical young-teen jokey tone of voice behind the little chuckle that came out.
He didnât realize it at first but it doubled down on everything to Erin. She didnât feel seen, or understood, if anything it made her think that everything she was feeling was invalid or overexaggerated.
The pain became so evident in Erinâs eyes that no sunglasses, hand over the forehead, or shadow could hide it.
âHey, Iâm serious.â His voice turned earnest. Before any other words could be spoken, Nestor quickly grabbed the girl and brought her against his chest in an embrace. His hands were resting over her shoulders and his head just over her own. Nestor would have never admitted it to anyone but he never thought the smell of shampoo would break his heart the way it was now as he took a harsh inhale as the two teenagers hugged. âI get visitor days, too. Iâll let you know when they are, itâs gonna fly by. Iâll be home before you know it.â
Erin immediately thought about time and how quick the days from prom to now went, how she blinked and the moment arrived and for a minute felt optimistic. Until, she remembered how time worked. Time changed things, time passed slowly when inconvenient and fast when you wanted a moment to savor it. Time rarely worked out in anyoneâs favor, and time never worked in Erinâs. She flashed back to saying goodbye to her father, how she expected her weekends to be in a prison parloir amongst people just like her waiting to talk to their convicted love ones but that never happen. Erin was taken off the list and never heard from the man again. She wanted to threaten Nestor, tell him that he had to write, that he had to reach out but it wasnât her. To be honest, the part of her that knew how to guard herself from pain and hurt started coming out the minute Nestor had told her about joining the Navy and right now was the moment all that progress was going to break or become as solid as a concrete wall.
âPlus, we still have to finish Sound of Music, so obviously Iâll be home soon so we can do that.â Nestor was getting nervous by the girlâs lack of words, it wasnât like Erin to go silent like this. Heâd take any type of response from her, even a sarcastic one. Anything was better than the silence. So he thought.
âAlright, sailor.â Erin was pulling away from the hug but to Nestor it felt more like she was pushing him away. âDonât all stand on the same side of the ship.â Erin let out a sarcastic joke that normally Nestor would have rolled his eyes at or even responded too but the words gutted him. He didnât want a sarcastic response, he wanted something deep and real from the girl. Itâs when he finally realized what Erin couldâve been feeling.
âYou know you still got me, right? Iâm not leaving you, Iâmââ
âDoing what you gotta do.â Erinâs arms were coming to rub up and down on Nestorâs arm. It was a gesture to ease him but nothing in this moment was going to make either of them feel comfortable.
All Nestor did was nod in response. Erin gave a half smile and squeezed his arm one last time to say goodbye. His brother had honked the horn and yelled out that they needed to go to stay on time. Erin knew there were a few more people who needed to offer their send offs so instead of Nestor leaving her, she pushed him away and let that concrete wall in her heart stand strong and tall.
âAlright sailor, go do what you gotta do.â
_______________
One letter. No visits. Eight years.
It was about one month in when Erin received the letter from Nestor. It had been following the 3 she sent on her own. The first two were nonsensical, filling him in on silly things like town happenings, new movies, whatâs been going on with her family. When she didnât get a reply she just figured there were rules for the new trainees, they probably had limits and needed to build a tolerance and understanding to being separated from home for periods of time. But when Emily had come home and told Erin that Nestorâs brother had passed away, Erin didnât care about Navy rules. Thatâs what the third letter was, it was a beautifully written note of her condolences, her sorrows, and her love and pain for Nestor, despite her opinion on the older Oceteva, she was fully aware of the bond they shared and how this would affect Nestor especially after losing his parents.
When she got his letter back, she knew it was going to be filled with pain and sadness, but she didnât expect it to be towards her. She read it over and over again, to make sure she was understanding the words correctly. It was a form of torture reading that letter again and again. The coldness in Nestor, the lack of depth in his words, the inadequate reasonings as to why he was doing this.
After boot camp Iâm deploying for 3 cycles. Not coming home anytime soon. Writing to let you know that you should stop. Stop sending letters, stop reaching out, stop thinking about me completely.
-Oceteva
After the first day of rereading it came the second. On that second day she only read it once before she set it to flames along with any other mental attachment she had to Nestor. Her pain took her so far that she left Santo Padre on the third day and never looked back.
But here she was eight years later. Back in her hometown but a completely different person. One of ferocity and of independence. She was a person who didnât take shit from anyone, opinionated and never stifled. It was honestly a lot of her traits from a teenager but heightened, pulled more to the forefront. She never stayed in one place or held onto a relationship for too long, either. She was truly a wildcard.
Currently she was holding up the rocker sign to the security camera that sat in the entrance of her older sisterâs house. She didnât exactly want to be there, but when Miguel called her while she could easily say no to him, she couldnât say no to Emily. And the way he described it, Emily needed help.
Erin sat on the couch, feeling the weight of their conversation.
âI do always disappear because I hate this fucking town. I never loved it like you do.â Erin was visibly stressed as she spoke to her sister.
âI know but itâs where we grew up. So all our memories are here.â Emily had a definiteness to her words.
âMm-hmm. Yeah.â Erin crossed her arms and looked up at Emily, a sense of power in her stare. âThatâs the problem.â A sarcastic smile filled her face for the briefest second before it fell into a straight face. âI thought you out of all people would understand.â Erin pushed off the kitchen island and crossed her arms.
âUnderstand what?â Emily was frowning as she brought her espresso cup up to her mouth.
âHow often do you see EZ, Em? Must be tough living in this small town running into your teenage sweetheart. The pride of Santo Padre.â Erin was purposely choosing words that would sting and felt emotionally heavy in hopes Emily would get what she was saying without having to say what she actually meant out loud.
The look on Emilyâs face gave it away. It was a mix of feeling sick at the mention of EZ, since he went away and Emily went to college it was never brought up again, never talked about between the sisters. It didnât help that the two didnât exactly have the bond they used to but it was likely that even if they did Emily would have never brought it up.
âI didnât realizeââ Emily shook her head looking for the right words to say, âyou left so soon after he did that I justââ she stopped that sentence and started a new one realizing that thought wasnât what should have been the sentiment shared to her little sister in this moment. âIâm sorry I didnât realize.â
That wasnât exactly the most comforting response either but it was better than rehashing the details.
âAll good. We all got our own lives to live, shit to do. Obligations.â That last word was said with such grit and harshness, a repetition of something Emily had used earlier in her argument with Erin to get a leg up on her and belittle her little sister but now was coming back to bite her.
âMake yourself at home, Miguel is out on a work thing and Iâm about to head out, weâre still in the process of unpacking so itâs kind of crazy.â Emily changed the subject and took a deep inhale as a way to clear the air from their discussion.
âYou got doors on your bedrooms so itâs automatically better than the last house I lived at in Santo Padre.â Erin smirked, a smile where her teeth didnât show and her cheeks barely raised. It was a smile that would have earned her a slap across the face from her mother but from Emily it just earned her the same smile back as she walked away.
Which is what lead Erin to be sitting on the couch, her arm over her forehead with her eyes shut wishing she was anywhere but here. She shot up quickly though at the sound of a door closing, not sure who it could be if Miguel and Emily were out, she knew her sister had hired help around the house with cleaning and that Miguel had security so it was extremely likely to be someone of that nature but it didnât stop her from being curious.
As she stood up she peaked into the kitchen where she saw the fridge door open and a pair of slacks and dress shoes. The top half of the person was covered by the door but she assumed by the looks of it, it was a security person.
âJust announcing my presence, donât want to be shot or anything, Iâm Emilyâs sister, gonna be here for a while.â
A hand rested on the door of the fridge now it stayed there for 10 seconds before it closed revealing the person in entirety.
Erin recognized him immediately, eight years of differences but she could see right through them. After looking at everything that was the same, she took in what was different. He was more built now, he always had a broad chest but now it was more defined. His hair was in two french braids but you could see the curls peeking out through his baby hairs. As her eyes moved down she saw him wearing a button up dress shirt, anyone else could have overseen the purple color to it, but it was a perfect match to what the eldest Oceteva brother drove when they were in high school.
âWhat are you doing here?â Nestorâs voice was shaky as he spoke.
Erin let out a scoff. âWhat am I doing here? Itâs my sister's house. What are you doing here?â Her eyes looked down to the holsters across his arms, the guns snuggled tightly in their respective places and it hit her. âHoly shit, you work for him.â
Immediately, she thought about all the things she was going to say to her sister for not warning her, for not giving her the heads up, especially after the things they talked about. It might not have been direct, but Erin knew Emily understood the weight of everything she was saying and she was definitely going to ring her sister out.
Nestor just stood there, not sure what to say.
âYou know, I pictured this, running into you back home, the part of me that still romanticizes shit thought maybe itâd be at the day before summer festival, Sound of Music on that stupid blow up projector. I thought youâd apologize, tell me what the fuck happened in that thick ass skull of yours five years ago. And even if nothing came out of it, weâd have some type of fucking closure, some answers.â
âErin.â Nestor spoke like he was going to take a step forward but he was still frozen in place.
âYouâre just as much of the mystery man you were when I first met you. Serial killer and all.â She pointed at the guns on his side, a smile on her face but it was one of full shock and heartbreak.
âI pushed you away because it was the best thing.â It was the first real thing Nestor had said since the two were sharing space in the kitchen.
âAnd this?â Erin waved her hands in reference to the house around her. âIs this the best thing?â Her hand moved to her head as if a headache was onsetting which wouldnât have been much of a surprise based on the situation going on right now. âFor fucks sake, Nestor. We used to make fun of these guys, we used to shit on them, we hated them.â
âI never hated them. I told you. I told you Mikey was like a brother to me.â There he was the young vocal Nestor that only Erin and a good amount of alcohol could bring out these days.
âSo you decide to come and do his dirty work, be his little bitch?â Erin wasnât going to hold back now. âReal brotherly. Would a brother take your life from you, what kind of fucking life is this Nestor?â
âOne with purpose.â He responded so quickly like it was an automated response, like he was on a job interview or was given a script.
Erin let out a laugh. âAnd to think I loved you.â Her eyes were wide at the statement, it was something she never said out loud before, she thought it, but never spoke it. But that wasnât why her eyes were wide, it was the shock of whatever was unfolding in front of her.
At the mention of love, Nestor went soft. His eyes softened. Yet another way the two were on completely different pages, completely different wavelengths.
âEr.â
âDonât worry about it, Nes,â Erin retorted with her own nickname. âWe just became the people we were meant to be.â Erin shrugged and made her way toward Nestor. The two were now inches from one another like they were the last time they saw each other, except now Erin wasnât going to hide any of her emotion, she wasnât going to bite back any anger.
âIâm not planning on being here long. Got a disappearing act to keep up with. Wouldnât want to drop any stars on Yelp, you know. Erin the wild, in your city one day and out the next. Guess I have you and my dear old dad to thank for that.â
âErin.â Nestor whispered her full name and went to move so he could try and grab her hands but she pulled them away like she was near a hot stove. Her hand gravitated to his shoulder and patted it in such a sarcastic manner, the attitude dripping off every syllable she spoke before pushing past him and leaving him alone in the kitchen.
âYou do what you gotta do, Nestor. Like you always have.â
I am a PASSIONATE commenter on fanfiction, but sometimes it slows down my reading because I don't want to read if I don't have the mental energy to leave the long comments I want to
Still, as an author, I know even a short note can mean the world.
So, I put together a little guide with different âlevelsâ of comments, so itâs easier to leave something without overthinking!
itâs so special to me that so much of fan culture is textual analysis for the love of the game. like thank god there are people in my phone who are also thinking about this thing i love so much that they are writing transformative fiction as character studies and setting clips of the show to music with theme-relevant lyrics and writing long text posts analyzing every line of dialogue like!! yay!!!
Request from @alienstardustâ:Â Umm All the angst in those childhood prompts. Iâm a fan! Yes! <3 Maybe something with Nestor? đ« thank you
I went with this prompt from This Post:Â When Person A and Person B were kids, Person A broke their arm and had to wear a cast for a while. To make them feel better, Person B decorated it by drawing a bunch of doodles and quotes all over it. When Person A finally got the cast off, they asked the doctor if they could keep it. Years later, Person A takes the cast to a tattoo artist and gets all of Person Bâs doodles and quotes tattooed onto their arm so they can wear them forever.
Warnings: language, angst, hospitals
Word Count: 3.8k
A/N: I looooooved writing this. Writing has been tough for me lately but this just felt really right. This is my first fic where Iâve done a lot of time skips within the story so hopefully it flows alright. Hope you guys enjoy! xo
are u actually kidding me yearning over nestor is now going to be my new obsession thank you very much. i looooooved how this came together so so so much and the angst and heartbreak of it allllllll.
Happy Lowman x F!Reader | Jax Teller & Platonic!F!Reader //
Word Count: 21.2k
Summary: In the midst of grief and hardship, you meet The Tacoma Killer who opens your eyes to more than just the weight of your burdens. A story from start to finish of how meeting and falling in love with Happy Lowman changed both of your lives while still keeping both of you exactly the same.
Warnings/Tags: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Angst. Grief. Canon character death. Sick reader relative. Reader relative character death. Canon-level violence. Smut. Hurt/Comfort. Arguing. Drugs. Drinking. Crying. Mourning. Mentions of cancer, dementia, injuries, and blood.
A/N: You can thank @drabbles-mc for jump starting whatever Happy Lowman bug she gave me after writing this fic (please read this and ALL her Happy fics and while you're at it just all her stuff). All 21.2k words of this are because of her so class be sure to say thank you Miss Drabbles MC!!!!
The sigh that left your mouth was full of a lot more than just exhaustion. It was more than just a long day of work, more than just a long night of work. It was years of them. Years of a weight you were burdened with, then guilt from describing your ill father as a burden.Â
There was a debate going on in your head as you sat in your truck in the parking lot of your job. Should you go home or should you go to the club party?
The text message in your phone was trying to convince you of the latter.Â
Jax (7:14): You never told me if you were gonna swing by tonight
Jax (11:27): Donât be a loser come by itâs free drinks and bud canât beat it
Jax wasnât much of a convincing argument, but he also knew begging wasnât your speed. Looking at the other messages in your phone, you squeezed your eyes shut trying to cope with the day you had.Â
Kayla At-Home Nurse (2:45): Your dadâs medication got mixed up, running him to urgent care just to be sure.Â
That message earned you a 30 minute phone call, during your 30 minute lunch break. So that meant shoveling bites of food here and there when you could and copious amounts of coffee through the day.Â
Then there were the other 5 messages.Â
Kayla At-Home Nurse (5:18): I just got the call heâs gonna need to get his stomach pumped.Â
You didnât read that one right away, you were in the middle of a shift, no phones.Â
Kayla At-Home Nurse (5:35): Can you please answer me I donât know what to do.Â
Another unanswered message.Â
Kayla At-Home Nurse (5:48): Weâre going to go through with it, doctors say heâll be back home in the morning and the only thing he'll need is to be on a special diet.Â
Kayla At-Home Nurse (5:59): They just brought him back, they said theyâll call me when heâs out.Â
6 oâclock was when you got off. 6 oâclock was when you called Kayla the at-home nurse 15 times before she picked up. 6 oâclock was when Kayla told you she thought she was texting someone else this entire time and that your father was fine, home from urgent care, eating applesauce to settle the medicine mix up and sitting on the back porch. His favorite place.Â
Then you went to your second job, you were so frazzled that you spilled coffee on someone, someone who not only didnât leave you a tip but also shorted out on the bill, which came out from your paycheck.
âFuck it,â you shook your head from the day, grabbing your duffel from the back and pulling out a pair of jeans and black tank top to quickly change into before heading to the clubhouse.
As you pulled into the club, you saw the barrels of fire, the large group of people, there was more than just SAMCRO here, there had to be a couple different charters here.Â
You werenât sure how you felt about that, part of you was kind of hoping to just see the guys you knew. Have a few beers, smoke a little hash, relax, take the edge off. But with more people here, itâd be more of a socializing thing.Â
It was too late though, you were already spotted. As you pulled into the spot, you heard your name being called out. As you grabbed your black zip up from the back seat, you followed the cat-calls which were clearly coming from people you knew. Tig gave you a purr as you walked by him and Clay. But then you heard a voice you had heard call out to you since you were a kid. Jax had waved you over to the boxing ring that was set up under the awning just outside the clubhouse.Â
âTraining for UFC?â You joked as Jax pulled you in for a hug. It wasnât your first time at Teller-Morrow or the clubhouse, youâd spend evenings after school here years ago, watch Jax work on cars, learn something yourself so you could save some money on oil changes and other maintenance things for your Popsâ truck. Not that anyone was driving it at that time, but you knew one day you would be. Now, youâd come to club parties when you werenât working overnights, sometimes youâd show up even after your night shift on the days the party tended to last well into morning. Youâd also find yourself behind the desk at Teller-Morrow from time to time, picking up shifts working at the mechanic office, organizing invoices, taking calls, paperwork shit. A favor for Gemma, offered to you by Jax. He knew you needed the money and hated that you were working nights at shitty dive bars and diners just to make enough.
Growing up in the house a few blocks down from Gemmaâs, your life was on full display. There was no hiding your father getting sick, you had nurses in and out of the house, garbage full of empty orange bottles, youâd put on a yard sale every month just to earn whatever cash you could to pay for whatever insurance wouldnât. When you were out of high school, youâd work whatever jobs you could just to make ends meet. Gemma brought you leftovers a lot, or sheâd send Jax over to deliver them to you. JT was one of your fatherâs closest friends, they were war buddies as they liked to call it. Two tours in Vietnam together. Both of them didnât exactly come home in the best conditions, JTâs was more mental, your dadâs was well, it was cancer.Â
It brought you and Jax close, losing a parent, whether it figuratively or literally tended to bond people.Â
âSomething like that,â Jax smiled, the boyish grin fully on display as he turned to look at the punches being thrown.Â
Your gaze followed his, you recognized one of them in the ring as one of the guys from the Devilâs Tribe, but the other man wasnât someone you knew. He was covered in tattoos, shaved head, and tall.Â
âHow you holdinâ up?â Jax tossed his arm around you.Â
Jax always asked you this, it was his way of asking a few things at once. How are you, howâs your dad, is there anything he can do?
âTired from work, new nurse is a fucking idiot, so I gotta figure out how to get someone new,â you inhaled sharp. The list never ended, it felt like it kept piling up. But it was worth it, your dad was having way better days than shitty ones, in fact, before this new nurse started, he was walking again, cracking jokes, spending mornings on the porch with you drinking coffee and watching birds.Â
âWhat happened to Suzanne?â Jax frowned down at you as you kept your eyes on the two bikers in the ring, the one that was a mystery to you specifically, not really in the mood to figure out your problems right now, itâs all you tended to think about, sometimes you just wanted a break.
âShe was a fucking relic Jax,â you shook your head. âShe retired.âÂ
Jax laughed, Suzanne was a fucking dinosaur. âI can see if Tara knows any nurses who are looking for work.âÂ
âTara, huh?â You raised your brows, getting ready to pry and tease based on his reaction, but just like you didnât want to be pressed, he didnât either.Â
âI donât wanna hear it,â there was still a smile on his face, but he didnât have an answer for the question you had, if it could even be considered a true question. But he knew that what you said was laced with a lot more than just a teasing remark and with you, he needed to have real answers, logical ones, and this thing with Jax and Tara was the furthest thing from logical. Jax turned his attention back to the ring as everyone yelled as the two bikers got more enthralled in the fight.Â
âWhose the tats?â You kept your voice down as you asked Jax a question he actually could answer, changing the topic to something that would pull both your minds from what was constantly being overworked in them.
âNomad, used to be in at Tacoma,â Jax didnât give you much information, no name, no history, no personal opinion, just a typical MC descriptor.Â
âJackie boy!â A voice interrupted your conversation.
Then there was another yell, âAlright, break these guys up!âÂ
Chaos was starting to ensue and you were gonna take it as a sign to head inside and grab a drink.Â
You leaned your elbows against the bar as the prospect grabbed a cold beer from the cooler, popping the cap off for you.Â
âHey,â a raspy voice sent chills down your spine and you turned to see who was calling your attention. It was the guy who had just been in the ring. Tacoma. The Nomad. But he wasnât looking at you, he was looking at the prospect, eyes burning into him like he owed him something. He wasnât getting your attention, he was getting the prospectâs.Â
âThat was the last one, Hap,â the shaky voice came from the kid earning his stripes for SOA. âI got Half-Sack grabbing another case from the liquor store.âÂ
The tatted man didnât say anything, just stared at him, no expression on his face, which in all honestly was probably scarier than an intimidating one for the prospect.Â
âHere,â you pushed over your beer towards the 6 foot biker, offering a solution that would allow the kid to take a minute to change his pants because he was clearly shitting himself at the moment. âGet me vodka on the rocks,â you smiled at the prospect that Jax was currently sponsoring.Â
âYes maâam,â he gave a polite smile.Â
You quickly spoke out your name as a demand. âNo maâam, Juice. Just my name.âÂ
Now, the tall manâs eyes were on you. Boring into you much like he had just done to Juice.Â
âShit wonât work on me,â you waited for your drink, not bothering to look at him.Â
He said nothing.Â
It was like that for a few more seconds. Quiet, if you could call it that, there was so much noise around you itâs not like it was an awkward silence.Â
Juice came back with the glass of clear iced liquid and spoke your name as he placed it down. Just as you went to grab it, the tatted man pulled it away.Â
Your brows knitted together faster than him grabbing your drink.Â
âYou take the beer,â the words were raspy and firm coming from his mouth.Â
Glancing over to him, your eyes squinting slightly like if you strained hard enough youâd be able to read him clear as day. No dice.
Now it was your turn to stay silent and bore a glare into him.Â
âIâm not taking your beer,â he spoke through your silence.Â
âHalf sackâs back with the beer!â Juice exclaimed so cheerfully as he stepped away from your staring competition. Normally itâd make you laugh, he was so different from the other guys, always joking, usually going on about some tech thing that no one knew what the fuck he was talking about, but itâd always make you smile, except now. You kept your eyes on the man, the Nomad, taking in his shaved down head, the stubble was greying, a sign of a weathered biker. The stubble around his face, though, was different. It had not quite caught up to his head yet, not that he ever let it grow out for anyone to really tell. The tattoos that were on full display as he stood there sweaty, bloody, and shirtless, were detailed. They told a story, they told his story. Or at least part of it.Â
âFilthy few.â If you didnât know what that meant, the âI live, I die, I kill, for my familyâ tattoo would have given it all the explanation it needed. You were no stranger to the shit the club did. Outlaw life. If your dad didnât get sick, he would have joined, there was no question about it. With how the club took care of you, even when you werenât really âa partâ of it, you got it. That pull for a family, a group of misfits that would do anything for one another. It made sense. Even despite the criminal shit.
Honestly? With how the system fucked you, the medical debt, the bills, the back taxes, making just enough to kick you off government-assisted programs but not enough to buy fucking milk the week between paychecks, how couldnât someone resort to other measures?Â
It was silent between you two before Juice came back with another beer.Â
âGive me an empty glass, Juice,â you gave the order to him and he obliged and stepped away from whatever was going on between you and the Nomad.
Juice slid the glass toward you before retreating to one of the many other people crowding the other side of the bar. You poured half of your vodka into the glass, and then pushed it so it clinked next to the fresh beer. An act of evening the score between you.Â
âNow weâre both happy,â you smiled, sarcastically.Â
âNo, Iâm Happy.â He nodded, somehow without his expression changing at all, you felt him soften just the slightest bit.Â
âWell⊠Iâm glad.â Your voice had a bit of confusion tied to it as you brought the vodka up to your lips, you needed something strong, maybe it would make sense of whatever was happening here.Â
âNo, my name.â He rasped. âHappy.âÂ
He was introducing himself. If you could even call it that.Â
âYour personality really embodies your name,â you nodded and then after a beat of him not responding you clinked your glass to his. âNice to meet you, Happy.âÂ
An olive branch? Was that you offering some sort of truce to peace over whatever was happening between you?
âYou from Charming?â It was the first question he had asked you, everything else before was just a sentence, or more like a demand.Â
âYou gonna ask me if I come here often?â You were pulling back that olive branch just as fast as you were offering it. âIf Iâm free for a ride or to drive around? If you could take me home?â You had heard it all before, as jokes from most of the guys and occasionally a serious offer if they were drunk enough or someone from out of town rolled in.Â
âNo, just asking if youâre from Charming.â He held no disdain from your reaction.Â
âIf you try anything, Iâll cut your dick off,â you spoke the words with gusto, almost like you had to convince yourself that you were capable of the violent act.
He tilted his head and studied your face and then nodded. âI completely believe you.âÂ
At first, you thought he was being sarcastic, his voice was so monotone that it was hard to pull context from it. Maybe you didnât need to pull context from it, maybe he just was saying what he was thinking. You werenât exactly used to guys doing that, not that you had time for guys. But from your little experience it was always games.
He wasnât giving you a reason to not believe him, although there was a little voice in your head that was probably Gemmaâs saying, if itâs got a dick, thatâs reason enough not to trust it. But fuck it, this felt different.Â
âWell, good.â You didnât know how else to respond and he was just there, standing there, not phased at all, still fucking staring at you. âI am,â you lowered the claws, âfrom Charming.â You answered his question from earlier. âHear youâre kind of a nomad.âÂ
âAinât kind of. Am.â He shook his head at the first sentence, then nodded once at the last, he pulled a toothpick into his mouth letting it bounce around with his tongue.Â
âSo what, you just⊠float around?â Now it was your turn for a question.Â
âDrive around,â he said with a slight smirk calling back to your earlier remark.Â
It was the first joke he made, and you couldnât help but smile at him.Â
âAnd somehow weâre back to my point. You bikers are all the same.â You were teasing, you appreciated his quick wit there. You looked down at your glass, the vodka was getting watered down now.Â
âI ainât like anyone.â He wasnât arguing with you, wasnât being defensive, he was just telling the truth and you found it refreshing.Â
âYou know what, Happy?â You nodded, taking down the rest of the vodka before pushing the glass forward and grabbing the neck of the beer bottle. âI completely believe you.âÂ
He smiled. You could see why Juice was terrified of him. His smile wasnât warm or welcoming. And yet? And yet. It was all the invitation you needed to decide to break that internal rule you gave yourself.Â
No fun. That was the rule. You didnât have time for it, not with multiple jobs, not with your father being sick. All the fun you allowed yourself was coming to these parties, you could bottle it into one night, no aftermath, no fallout.Â
Thatâs what this could be. One night. No aftermath. No fallout.Â
âSo Happy?â You took a breath in. âYou come here often?âÂ
He grinned, wide. âYes, maâam.âÂ
â
âOh God, Jesus Christ, you gotta be fucking kidding me,â Jax stumbled out of the dorm room where you were laying pretty much bare across the full mattress. Why he was walking into it to begin with was a mystery to you, but it didnât really matter. He wasnât expecting to walk in on one of his oldest friends, indecent and clearly disheveled from an entertaining night.
All you could do was laugh. You were alone in the room, but it was obvious you had company from someone last night and Jax wasnât expecting to find you in such a delicate state.Â
Rolling over, you saw the cup of coffee on the nightstand. It had the smell of spice to it, something earthy besides the coffee. You took a sip and closed your eyes. âThat fucker put cinnamon in the fucking coffee.â After last night, you shouldnât have been shocked that Happy had more surprises up his sleeve. In fact, you figured there were a lot of surprises Happy had up his sleeve.Â
You pulled your clothes back on and peeked out of the dorm, checking if anyone else was going to see your walk of shame. When the coast was clear, you made your way to the main part of the clubhouse, mug in hand. Your eyes scanned across the clubhouse, it was just a mess of bottles, garbage, a couple of the guys and random women passed out. No Happy. You ducked into the kitchen where Jax was grabbing a beer and chugging it down.Â
âOh, relax.â You rolled your eyes.Â
âWhat are you doing here?â He asked, his face scrunched up and almost immediately his brows rose again as his nostrils flared. âWho are you doing here?â
âNone of your business,â you matched his expression, mug pulling up to your face.Â
âI thought you had a rule?â He simmered his temper down just slightly.Â
âWasnât broken,â you lifted your eyebrows and shook your head.Â
âYouâre unbelievable,â he wasnât going to let this go, which honestly was fair, you were like a sister to Jax, a sister he just accidentally walked in on naked. But, his face had twisted from disgust to humorous. Eyebrows raised almost like he was impressed, maybe even a little proud of you.Â
âYouâll be alright,â you patted him on the back.Â
â
It was two weeks after you slept with Happy. The idiot nurse was still an idiot, but it made sense why. She was balancing her own shit, like everyone was. Her brother was on hospice, she was spending most of her time on the road between your house and her brotherâs in Lodi. It made those mixed up text messages and spaciness track, she was in a million different places at once. You could relate. With that, you figured youâd make the decision for her, offer her a decent severance, which honestly was just what you could pull together, and pay your respects. She needed to lighten the load, this money would give her that and the opportunity to be closer to home.
You wanted to be further from home. It felt like you spent all your time at home, it didnât even feel like work offered you enough of an escape. But then, when you were gone, you felt guilty. Things had been bad, it made you feel like that last spurt of good before the new nurse started was just a favor from the universe, your time to create the last good memories with your father before things took a harsh turn. Dementia had fully crept its way into your fatherâs mind, as if the in and out remission cancer wasnât enough. The medications already made his mind fuzzy, but this was different and you knew it. Sometimes, you just needed to be away from it all. Act like none of this was happening.Â
Itâs why you stayed at this 24 hour diner a little longer than you shouldâve. It was 1:30AM, you had two dirty plates next to you, one from a meal, a burger and fries, and a smaller one from a piece of pie. You were nursing a cup of coffee, it was stale, and not because you had been taking your time to drink it, but because it was probably sitting in the pot for hours before you had walked in, there werenât many people passing through at this hour.
But it was better than being home.Â
God, the guilt that ate you away with that thought.Â
âYou come here often?âÂ
The rasp of a familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts and your attention shifted to the tall man standing right at the edge of your booth. Two coffee cups in his tattooed hands.Â
A smirk twitched at the corner of your mouth and your brows furrowed.
âNo, canât say I do,â you looked down at his hands, his rings were large, silver, covered most of his skin, and what wasnât hidden, was covered with ink. He had on a sweatshirt, a dark gray hoodie that had no markings but if it did theyâd be hidden by his kutte, the worn leather had some droplets on it, your ears then noticed the sound of rain hitting the window to your right, itâs probably why he was here, pulling in to wait out the rain.Â
Happy looked at the booth, his way of asking for permission and you nodded, tilting your head as an invitation to slide in.Â
He slid the coffee to you and you shook your head. âCoffeeâs stale, been sittiââÂ
âFresh pot,â he cut you off and pushed the cup with two fingers towards you.Â
When you had asked the waitress to make you a fresh pot and she declined, pretty rudely too. So, you wondered what Happy said or did to get her to come around. Your mind started to go wild at that, you didnât hear any commotion, but also you couldnât imagine him asking nicely for anything let alone a cup of coffee. Mystery. Happy was a mystery.Â
You met his eyes and then looked down at the mug. Black, lightened just slightly with something. Something sweet? No, you breathed in a faint inhale, something spicy.Â
You took a sip. âCinnamon.â It wasnât phrased as a question, but you were kind of asking him for confirmation.
âAnd nutmeg.â He nodded.Â
âChristmas in a mug,â you smiled and took another sip.Â
âWhyâre you here?â He asked, his face searching yours for answers. 1:30AM at a diner that was mainly truckers and homeless people, yeah you stood out, but it did make you smile at how abrupt he was in his questioning.
âYou donât know subtlety do you, Happy?â A smile grew on your face, followed by a harsh exhale that held the weight of why. âIâm on my way home from giving my dadâs at-home nurse a severance package, got caught up helping her out with her sick brother, so I hit the road kind of late,â you tapped your fingers against the mug, the warmth of it not giving you nearly enough comfort.
âI thought she was an idiot.â Happyâs brow frowned slightly.
âShe wasâis,â you shook your head. âSheâs going through something, something I understand.â You shook your head trying to get the thoughts straight.Â
Happyâs brow twitched just slightly. He looked thrown. Like the idea that someone would be that kind, to offer help to someone who not only was an idiot but fucked up things in their life was a little beyond him. He was intrigued, though.Â
âIâm sorry, how do you know she was an idiot?â You asked him, confused how that information was public knowledge to him.
âJax.â That was all the answer he gave you, he was still wrapping his brain around what you told him, trying to figure you out. He thought he had a decent picture, you two spent a night together and before things escalated to the bedroom, you had some conversations. He learned you liked Led Zeppelin. He knew you liked vodka, preferably on the rocks. He found out your favorite book was One Flew Over The Cuckooâs Nest, and that youâd reread it every year. Those were his favorite things, things that made him think: this girlâs a woman after his heart. But there were other things, too. Things he normally didnât care about, that he found himself intrigued by. Sudoku puzzles, baking, volunteering, all the different jobs you held.
You were a fucking saint. He kept asking himself what the fuck you were doing there that night. But he never asked. Just listened.
You lifted your hand up at him and twirled it around, your way of asking for more explanation without verbally doing so.Â
âHe asked me if I knew any good nurses.â He shrugged, coming back to the conversation, thinking back to Jaxâs question before he hit the road again a week ago.
That sentence did nothing more to explain anything for you.
âYou know, I wish your communication skills were as good as you were in bed,â you brought the mug up to your lips and hummed. âOr your ability to make a damn good cup of coffee.âÂ
âI got a lot of practice in two of those things,â he grinned hard, like the joke wrote itself.Â
You rolled your eyes, ignoring his clear confidence in himself and continued your conversation. âWhy would Jax ask you about nurses?âÂ
âIâve got an in-home nurse for my mom,â he sipped his cup of coffee, his rings clinking against the ceramic of the mug as he did.
In that moment, you looked up at Happy, surprise on your face, and nodded. âHowâd you find the right nurse?âÂ
âAnyone is the right person if you press enough fear in them.â He spoke the answer like it was simple.
âYouâre serious?â You werenât shocked, but with how straight faced he told his jokes, you had to be sure.
âAs a heart attack,â he nodded.
âI can see why people are terrified of you,â you appreciated how honest and straightforward these conversations tended to be with Happy.
âAre you?â He asked, curiously, as if you could pull that emotion from the straightforward way he spoke it. âTerrifed of me?â He clarified his question, as if you didnât get it from the original two worded question.
âNo,â your answer came quickly, you didnât need to think twice to deliver an honest answer.
âWhy?â He squinted his eyes. Maybe he was trying to warn you off. Intimidate you. Or maybe he was trying to read you, any tell you offered up, a twitch of your eye, a fidget of your fingers. But you gave him nothing.Â
You pulled a page out of his book, no emotion, no tell, just a straightforward sentence. âBecause you put cinnamon in my coffee.âÂ
He smirked, slightly, just the corner of his mouth twisting up. âAnd because Iâm good in bed,â he leaned back now, satisfied with your answer, with the truth.Â
âNo,â you laughed, leaning back too. âThat should terrify me.âÂ
âIf thatâs the case, Iâm terrified of you,â he lifted his head as a way to point to you.
âBecause Iâm good in bed?â Your eyebrows raised, nostrils flared as you held back the humor despite it being laced in your tone.
âExtremely,â he nodded a few times, dramatically.Â
You let out a laugh. One so genuine it felt like a release of things you had bottled up for ages.Â
Happy stared at you, well, more like beamed at you. When you settled down from laughing he dropped his mug on the table, it was empty now. There wasnât anything else he had to say, he got the answers he wanted, his coffee was done, but instead of getting up and leaving, he said something that knew was going to put him in a little deeper with you than he planned.Â
âAnd you give grace to people. Thatâs extremely terrifying.â His hand was mindlessly playing with the mug.Â
âNothing scary about being a human going through human things,â you shrugged. Those words stirred something up in you. You blinked back the tears, swallowing the lump in your throat.Â
âI think a lot of people would disagree,â Happy either didnât notice you were fighting tears or he was doing the honorable thing and ignoring it.
âIâm sure they would,â you inhaled sharp. âDoesnât stop it from being true.âÂ
Silence. The truth tended to do that. Honesty had a tendency to make everyone look inward.
âWhatâs the deal with you and Jax?â Happy broke the silence.
âExcuse me?â You couldnât hide your shock at those words.
âI saw him that morning, talking to you, he was pissed we slept together,â Happy explained.Â
âHe doesnât know we slept together,â you shook your head understanding what he was getting at now. The SAMCRO members used to tease you about Jax, a lot of people assumed things, it was nothing new. Although, it had died down, most of the guys had known you for a long time, known your friendship with Jax.
âHiding it because you and him got something going on?â Happy wasnât going to drop it. Why? Thatâs what you wondered. These guys didnât care about shit like that. If you were someoneâs old lady, none of what happened that night would have gone down, there wouldnât have been the chance. Someone would have stepped in and set shit straight. That meant, if Happy believed there was something between you and Jax, it meant you were just having fun, and guys like Happy, outlaws, club guys, they didnât give a shit about passing women around. Unless they were resenting something.
âYou jealous?â The question came out fast, you didnât even mean for it to, but you were so used to not holding back with Happy at this point, it just flew out before your brain could tell you no.
Happy didnât answer. His jaw tightened ever so slightly, the only tell that answered your question. Any one else, you would have rung them out, gave them a whole âmind your businessâ speech, all that jazz. But when Happyâs jaw ticked, you couldnât help but soften up just a bit.
âNo, Jax is my neighbor, we were kids together,â you shook your head. âHeâs like a brother to me. Very much like how heâs a brother to you. Nothing going on with us, never has been, never will be. He wasnât pissed, he was grossed out,â you let out a chuckle. âI donât usually make a habit out of sleeping with people from the club.âÂ
âSo thatâs why you were at the club,â Happyâs words were like he finally put something heâd been questioning all this time together.
âYou were questioning why I was there?â You made a face.
âA girl who does fuckinâ sudoku puzzles, volunteers at charities,â he lifted his hand, âdrive out to give the lady who twisted her life up a paycheck and help. Doesnât exactly scream crow-eater.â
âI told you, I donât usually make a habit out of sleeping with people from the club,â you answered.
âRule breaker,â Happy seemed to relax a bit now.
âIf we want to be technical, not exactly yet,â you smirked, biting your lip inward, looking down at the table. âHavenât made a habit out of it yet.â Â
Happyâs expression didnât change but you saw his eyes get curious, curiously excited. But then he looked at you, saw the exhaustion in your eyes.
âItâs tough, being a caretaker,â Happy lowered his head, attempting to make eye contact with you.
It worked, your gaze shot up to his. âHow long has your mom been sick?âÂ
â7 years, M.S.â he answered. You could tell his brain was reliving every moment with her over the time period she was going through it. Dealing with a person who's been sick for a long time comes with a lot of baggage, usually in the form of memories that splashed across your mind in the worst of times. âYour pops?â He asked, turning the question to you.
â9, first five were different,â you closed your eyes, exploring your own film of memories in your brain. âHe moved around the house a lot more. He laughed, saw friends, even entertained the idea of joining the club, said heâd do it after the chemo,â you pulled that memory to the front of your mind. Him sitting in those stupid chairs, needle deep in his vein, blanket over his body, talking to you about the bike heâd get. Then the image of him getting off the chemo jumped ahead. Pale, thin, shakey. âI donât know what was worse, him sick for the year and a half he was on it, or him sick from it after. He couldnât stay on it for the full 2-year treatment. It was preventing him from walking near the end. Guess it did the job though, he was in remission for a few years before it came back.â You sighed. âThought heâd made it through the thick of it, we would spend our days on the porch together, watching fucking birds, I really thought that maybe old age would be the thing that did him in,â you scratched your head, a motion to try and pull your brain from the thoughts. âNow heâs got cancer and dementia,â you laughed because it was the only thing holding you back from crying.
âYou do anything for yourself?â Happy mightâve been the first person to truly ask about you. Jax asked how you were holding up, but this question from Happy, it wasnât just checking in, it was making sure you were taking care of yourself.
âYouâre looking at it,â you extended your arms out, giving a curt smile.
âThis wasnât for you, this was for your idiot nurse,â he shook his head.
âI go to the club parties when I can,â you were pulling anything out to give the impression that you had things controlled.
âSomething tells me thatâs more for Jax than for you. Show face so he doesnât ask questions.â It was one of the longer statements that came from him, but true. 100% true.
âThatâs still very much for me,â you laughed, keeping Jaxâs questions at bay made life easier for you for sure.Â
Happy let out a breathy laugh, like he was pleased to have gotten that right.
âI guess, I slept with you, that was very much for me,â you drank the last of the coffee from your mug, it was cold now, but still damn good.
âHate to break it to you but that pleasure was all mine,â he tapped his hand on the table and shook his head.
âWell then, Hap. I guess I donât do shit for myself,â you gave up at trying to come up with excuses.
âWell then,â he mimicked you, âwhy donât we change that.â His eyes connected to yours again, less staring and more beaming, like he was in awe of you. âName it, one thing you want.âÂ
You looked out the window, the rain had stopped, the window was fogged slightly, probably from the outside humidity and the inside air conditioning. Your eyes fell on the bike, it was next to your truck. Despite being around the club since you could remember, you never got on the back of a Harley, never learned how to ride, never felt the thrill of it.Â
âCan we go for a ride?âÂ
âNo,â Happyâs response made you snap your head to him, brows knitting at his refusal.Â
He gave you a look, like he knew that wasnât what you genuinely wanted and he was going to make you say exactly what it was.Â
A slight nod came from your head and you closed your eyes for a brief moment to let the words come out.Â
âCan you teach me how to ride?âÂ
There it was. What you really wanted. Something for you.
Happy grinned, a nod leaving his head.Â
âYes maâam.âÂ
â
âPull on the clutch, ease on the break,â Happyâs breath hit your neck as he sat behind you, his hands guiding yours on the handles of his Harley as he gave the direction.Â
âAttaâgirl,â his voice rasped as you successfully brought the bike to a stop. âYou ready for a real ride?âÂ
âI donât know,â you hesitated, you felt the drop of sweat fall down your forehead, maybe it was the humidity, maybe it was the stress.Â
âYou got this,â Happy pushed.Â
With a glance over your shoulder, you gave Happy a look, one that said everything while saying nothing.Â
He laughed. You couldnât believe you were making this intimidating biker laugh so much.Â
âYou think Iâd let you go through with this if I didnât think you could on my bike?â He framed it now so you would have the confidence in yourself.Â
You rode for two hours. Happyâs hands on yours the entire time, helping you clutch and break. His feet were the ones controlling the rear break and the gears, but it was everything you needed, everything you wanted. The wind, the thrill. You forgot about everything, your focus was on when to let the clutch up and when to slowly pull the break, and when your thoughts did come back to you, it was because Happy tapped your thigh to offer you another âAttaâgirlâ, or maybe let out a laugh when you turned a corner nervously and pulled the break just a tad to fast. Which has resulted in him grabbing your hand to slow you down. Completely and totally in the moment.Â
He brought you to a park, completely abandoned and drove you on a long gravel path that led to a field a few miles deep into it.Â
âYou planning on murdering me?â You yelled over the idling engine.Â
As he shut the bike off he shook his head as he stepped off the bike. âThought you werenât terrified of me?â
âIâm not, I could take you,â you brought your leg over the bike, standing inches from him, removing the helmet and then moving to jokingly tap your fist to hit his abdomen.Â
Not only did he catch your hand but he twisted you around like you were dancing, pulling you close as you hit the 360 mark.Â
Inches away were now centimeters. You felt his breath against your face now.Â
âThought you could take me?â He whispered.
âStill could,â you mumbled back, your eyes dropping to his lips and back to his eyes.Â
He said nothing, just stared back at you. As your heart pounded you figured youâd keep up this streak of doing things for yourself.Â
âKiss me,â you whispered.
Happyâs mouth crashed against yours, his hand moving from his grip on yours to your neck, wrapping around the back of it to bring you closer as if it was possible.Â
You melted into him, stepping on your tiptoes to reach him, your hands moving to grab his kutte and pull his chest against yours.Â
His tongue slipped into your mouth and then his lips moved from yours to your jaw, then your neck.Â
You let out an audible moan and Happy let out his own. Less of a moan and more of an eager grunt.Â
âYouâre fuckinâ perfect,â he gruffed in your ear, taking your lobe between his teeth.Â
âYou gonna fuck me in the middle of the woods, Hap?â You were teasing him and Happy had no room for play right now.Â
âIâm gonna fuck you on my bike,â he pulled you onto his bike, moving your arms around his shoulders so you could hang on him as he lifted you up and pulled your pants down. As he placed you back down on the seat of his Harley, he undid his zipper and pulled himself free. He rubbed against your entrance a bit, feeling the slick heat between your legs.Â
âFuuuuuuck,â he let out as he watched himself.Â
You let out a breathy laugh and dropped your head back.Â
âHap?â You questioned, your head in another fucking world right now.Â
âHm?â He hummed, still taken by you.Â
âYou gotta hold me, if you keep this up Iâm gonna lose my senses and fall,â you managed to get out through breaths.Â
Happy let out a humorous chuckle and gripped your hips, all while bringing you down on him.Â
âDonât have to tell me twice,â he said as he pumped in and out of you.Â
This was better than the first time. You werenât drunk, you were actually better than sober. You were alive from the ride. And now living for the thrill of this.
At some point you moved onto the grass, if you started there you mightâve thought to put down a bedroll but that wasnât even a thought in your head at this moment.Â
âDonât stop,â you moaned as Happy kept his pace up.Â
âWouldnât dream of it,â he rasped.
âYou feel so fucking good, Hap,â you gripped him deeper every time he pushed in, letting out a moan as he hit deep inside.Â
âYouâre gonna be the death of me, woman.â He moved his thumb on your clit and that was it for you.Â
âIâm gonna cum,â you breathily said.Â
âDonât whisper, scream it out,â he demanded.Â
âIâm gonna cum!â You yelled, feeling the intensity start to build, moments away from breaking.Â
âYeah, baby. Scream.â He demanded again.Â
You listened. Your orgasm came from deep down, no holding back, no restrain, just you riding out the wave as Happy guided you through it and reached his orgasm right after.Â
Side by side, both of your chests rose and fell from the activity. Your back was soaked from the grass, and now his was too. He looked over at you.Â
âCâmere,â he gripped your hand and signaled for you to come closer to him.Â
âWhatâs the real reason you brought me out here?â Your hand landed on his chest.Â
âThat wasnât a good enough reason?â His eyebrows rose up.Â
âYou could have brought me anywhere to do that,â you traced his rings with your finger.Â
âI brought you here to shoot shit,â he said with no emotion.Â
You shouldnât have been shocked, but you couldnât hold in your laughter, your head falling on his chest as you did.Â
He laughed with you. His hand moved to cradle your head and he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.
It made both of you stop, your eyes connecting and saying so much without saying a single thing.Â
âIâm not reallyââ you started to say and cut yourself off. âIâm fucked up, Happy.âÂ
âYeah, I ainât really put together either.â He joked.Â
âIâm serious, Hap,â you said.Â
âLove it when you call me that,â he rasped.
âEveryone calls you that,â you brought your hand to his face, feeling the stubble on his chin.Â
âOnly love it when you do it,â he moved to wrap his teeth around your hand and then kissed it.Â
âAlright, Hap,â you started. âLetâs shoot some shit.âÂ
â
You shot at trash for an hour, Happy told you about how he got into riding, about the chop shop he used to work at that changed his life. You had a feeling there was probably more than just the Harleys that left an imprint on his life but you werenât going to pry. The rain picked up soon after that, he pulled out a zip-up sweatshirt from the bike compartment and wrapped it around you, bringing the hood over your head.
âI can drive us back to the diner,â he looked down at you, not phased by the rain at all.
âShouldnât we wait out the rain? Slick roads and all that?â You looked behind you towards the road, it was pretty foggy, hard to see, it couldnât be good riding conditions to drive back for an hour and a half.Â
âCould be a while,â Happy looked up at the sky now.
âHow far are we from Charming?â You asked.Â
â10 minutes,â he shrugged.
âYou want to hang at my place for a bit?â The question shocked you, you didnât bring anyone into your life. Let alone some guy you barely knew, some guy you decided to sleep with in the middle of the fucking park.
âSure,â Happy didnât hesitate.Â
And before you knew it, you were taking the exit for Charming and you were tapping Happyâs abdomen signaling him to turn into your driveway.Â
It was dawn, not that you could tell with the rain. It had to be close to 5:30 in the morning, give or take a few minutes. As you took the helmet off and descended off the bike, you saw the rocking chair on the porch moving.Â
Shit. No nurse, what the fuck were you thinking. This is why you didnât do shit like this. You needed to be responsible, you needed to be present.Â
âHe seems fine,â the rasp brought you back from the blame, Happy clearly reading everything going on in your brain. âCome on, weâll have coffee. Sit on the porch, watch the birds.â Happy was walking past you now, dropping his keys into his kutte and then removing his riding gloves.Â
âSir,â he greeted your father from the grass in front of your home.Â
You quickly jogged to catch up to him.Â
âPops, this is my friend, Happy.â You placed your hands on Happyâs arm to politely squeeze past him. As you made your way to the rocking chair, you placed a quick greeting kiss on his cheek and bent down to be balancing on the arm of the chair to get a look at him. âYou alright?â You whispered the question, tears just beyond your eyes. He looked fine. Slight stubble on his face, but he looked healthy, not too tired.Â
âSaw a towhee,â he pointed at the tree where he spotted it. Towhee birds loved rain.Â
âYouâve been waiting for that one,â you followed his gaze, seeing if you could catch a glance yourself.Â
âYou like birds, Happy?â Your father asked the man who was standing a few feet behind you.Â
Turning your head, you looked up at Happy. He looked different and exactly the same all at once. His kutte was still on, proud of what he was, who he was, not nervous to hide this part of him, but his eyes looked soft, not like an outlaw biker, but like someone who knew this life. Knew this struggle.Â
âI do,â he nodded with an answer.Â
âWell, pull up a seat.â Your father waved at one of the rocking chairs on the porch.Â
âSit, Iâll make coffee,â you nodded at Happy, pushing up off the armrest and moving to the front door. âCinnamon,â you paused for a minute at the door looking at Happy who took no time to comfortably sit sprawled in the chair, using his legs to rock it back and forth.Â
âAnd nutmeg.â One nod, and then a hint of a smile as he tucked a toothpick from his kutte in his mouth.Â
With the front door open, you let the screen door keep the threshold between the porch and inside. As you approached it with three mugs balancing between your hands, you paused as you heard the conversation happening on the porch.Â
âI can put up a hummingbird feeder, on this side of the coast you could see Annaâs hummingbirds, fat little fuckers,â Happy chuckled.Â
âPink,â your father nodded.Â
âVery,â Happy agreed.Â
âI donât have a lot of days like this,â your father started to say, slowing his rocking.Â
Happy kept his rocking pace up, not thrown by your fatherâs words.Â
âLucid ones,â he kept explaining. âDays where all I want to do is just sit on the porch and watch birds. Maybe get a game in of whateverâs on, eat dinner with my kid.âÂ
âSounds like a damn good day,â Happy agreed.Â
âIs she okay?â Your fatherâs voice cracked a bit and it took everything in you not to let out a sob at the sound of it. He was now looking directly at Happy.Â
Happy stopped rocking, his head turned to look your father directly in his eyes.Â
Silence. He stayed silent.Â
Lie. That word repeated in your head. Just lie. Say yes. He needed to believe you were okay. It would make him better, or at least not worse.Â
âI want her to be okay,â his voice was pleading, like he was begging for it.Â
âSheâs okay,â Happy nodded. There it was. The lie. You understood the sentiment of âbe careful what you wish forâ because you hated it. The minute he said it, you hated it.
It was a lie. It was the first time you saw Happy lie, but he was damn believable at it. Two words and the way he said them, so honestly.
Now your dad stayed silent. He believed him too.Â
âYou love her?â your dad looked back out at the birds in the trees as the rain picked up from a drizzle.Â
You werenât going to make Happy lie again, he was already doing too much by even being here.Â
âCoffeeâs up,â you opened the screen door. Both of their heads turned to you, hands extending out to grab their mugs. âDid you take your meds, Pops?â You had the pill organizer in your pocket in case he didnât.Â
âNot yet, wanted an hour without being numb,â he didnât mean for the words to break you but they did.Â
With a nod, you kept the organizer in your pocket and plopped down next to Happy.Â
The only thing the three of you talked about for the next hour was birds. Ones you saw, ones your Dad missed seeing, his favorite ones. Happy had a couple favorites, too. When the rain began to slow, and the sun crept its way through the dark clouds, your father stood up off the rocking chair, made his way over to you and stuck his hand out.Â
You put the organizer in his hand and as he went to grab it, he leaned down and placed a kiss on your forehead. âI love you, sweetheart.âÂ
You closed your eyes, hearing those words in your head repeat over and over. You did this every time, knowing time was limited. Although, you thought time was limited nearly 10 years ago, and yet here you were. The worry became a part of you.Â
âI love you, too.â You whispered back.Â
He moved over to Happy, extending his hand out to his.Â
âThank you,â your father said to him. Happy gave no verbal response, just a nod.Â
And then it was just you and Happy on the porch, the sunâs rays were more pronounced as they casted the shadows on the deck.Â
âYou wanna go pick up your truck?â Happy asked after 10 minutes of sitting there.Â
âYeah,â you pushed along the arm rests and stood up.Â
Happy followed suit. As you stood at his bike, waiting for him to pass you a helmet, you looked up at the porch.Â
âYou lied.âÂ
âWhat?â Happyâs hand extended out with the helmet.Â
âYou lied,â your eyes snapped to him.Â
He looked confused and for Happy that meant angry. He was burning a hole into you as he stared.Â
âI donât lie.â His voice was tense.Â
âIâm not okay,â the words felt like shit to admit.Â
âNow youâre lying,â he moved his hand for you to take the helmet like he was over this, like that was the end of the conversation.Â
Grabbing the helmet, you shoved it under your arm. He was lucky you didnât throw it. âIâm not fucking lying. You donât know me, Hap.â You scrunched your face up. âIâm not okay,â you brought the helmet to your chest as you pointed to yourself. âIâm a daughter who feels the pain of her father so deeply in every fucking bone of my body, he struggles and Iâm the one who notices it, the one who carries it. I do whatever I can to hide it, but itâs so fucking big and present that even my dying dementia ridden father can pick up on it. I canât run from it, I canât live in it, I canât escape the weight of it. I have done so much to escape the weight of it, I have given up my dreams, my happiness, my peace, and all that does is give me more space for more weight, so no Iâm not okay.âÂ
Happy stared at you, his eyes were frozen.Â
âYou are okay,â he spoke it slow, and then before you could argue he pointed at you. âAre you breathing?âÂ
âThatâs not what I meââ
âAre. You. Breathing?â He said it firmer.
âYes,â you answered.Â
âDid you have a nice morning?âÂ
âYes.â
âHave a good time last night?âÂ
âYes.âÂ
âTell me something youâre looking forward to.âÂ
âSmoking a fat joint when I get back here.âÂ
Happy smirked. âYou take it day by day. You do somethingâone thingâeveryday for yourself. I donât give a fuck if itâs a bubble bath, a joint, a fucking movie. One thing.â He held his finger up. âThatâs how you stay okay.âÂ
âIs that what you do?âÂ
âItâs what we all do.âÂ
With that, you nodded and placed the helmet on top of your head.Â
â
You did do somethingâone thingâeveryday for yourself. You slept with Happy.Â
You did other things, too. You visited him up north, at his place, sometimes at his moms. He kept teaching you how to ride. He gave you a tattoo, three of them actually. He brought you to pawn shops, bought you knives, a gun, even throwing stars, although, those were definitely more for him.Â
He found you not one but 3 rotating at-home nurses who were great at what they did.
He sat with your father, watched birds on the porch, made both of you coffee.Â
Things were okay. You were okay.Â
No one knew you and Happy were, well whatever you were. Itâs not like you put a label on it. You didnât flaunt it around, especially when you were at the club. In fact, there weren't too many times you and Happy crossed paths at the club. With him being Nomad, he was on the road more often than at SAMCRO.Â
But there was one day. The day. The day everyone found out.Â
Jax had called you, told you that there was going to be a lockdown at the club, how he wanted you and your Pops to come in. You put up an argument, there was too much logistics around bringing your father in. Meds, beds, IVs. I mean half your home looked like a hospital wing.Â
But then Happy called.Â
âYou should take him in,â he rasped over the speaker.Â
âHow am I supposed to bring all his stuff? How am I supposed to even convince him to get out of the house?â You were looking through the window on the porch at him eating at the dining room table.Â
âI can bring it,â Happy always had a solution for everything.Â
âIs it really that bad?â You asked, hand to your forehead.Â
âYes,â Happy answered.Â
You let out a sigh, frustration littered in the tone of it.
âI wouldnât lie to you,â his voice was soft.Â
âI know, Hap.â You dropped your hand down.Â
âWant me to pick up his things on my way down?â There was rustling on the other end.Â
âNo, I got it. What time are you planning on being there?â You tried to push past whatever anxiety was building in your brain.Â
âCouple hours,â you heard the rev of his bike.Â
âDrive safe,â you pleaded with him.Â
âYes, maâam.âÂ
â
Closing the door to the guest dorm you let your head lightly hit the door as it fell back. Getting your father settled here was more work than you expected. You wanted to get the machines plugged in, the IV ready if needed, all of his meds organized, unpack his things, whatever you could to make it feel like home. You made the bed with the same sheets from home, even brought some pictures, too.Â
As you made your way over to the bar, you didnât even realize you had sat down next to Gemma.Â
âCan you get her some coffee?â Gemma spoke to one of the crow eaters.Â
âThanks,â you looked over at her.Â
âHe all settled?â Gemma asked as she sipped her own mug.Â
âAs settled as he can get,â you inhaled sharply. âI donât know how long heâs gonna last. He gets worse when heâs not somewhere familiar.âÂ
âHe spent plenty of time in this clubhouse,â Gemma smirked.Â
âOn his more lucid days, I think he regrets never getting to wear a kutte,â you smirked back.Â
âHim and JT used to talk for hours about it, the cancer hit him so fast,â she shook her head.Â
âLife has a tendency to do that,â you smiled at the woman who dropped your coffee in front of you. âCan you get me some Cinnamon, doll?â You asked her politely, Gemmaâs eyes looking at the girl to make sure she followed through before looking back at you.Â
âThe guys are heading out soon, take care of what they need to,â she looked over at you, but your eyes searched for Happyâs.Â
He was in the corner talking to one of the guys from the Tacoma charter but his eyes were on you. Your eyes softened, the nerves and anxiety taking over at the idea of whatever it was they were going to take care of.Â
Quickly you moved back to look at Gemma. âYou holding up okay?âÂ
âIâll be better when this is all over,â she nodded. âHow long you been sleeping with Happy?âÂ
You almost spit your coffee out.Â
âDoesnât take a genius to put it together, sweetheart. Heâs been staring at you since you stepped out of the dorm.âÂ
âHappy stares at everyone,â you werenât sure why you were trying to hide it, maybe because you didnât want Gemma to be the first to know, you werenât sure how Jax was going to respond, not that it mattered, but you were trying to contain it so you could control it.Â
âYouâre putting Cinnamon in your coffee,â she brought her mug to her lips again. âHappyâs an early bird, he usually makes the coffee when he stays over here.âÂ
Your brain was trying to rack itself around what to say or do.
âRelax,â she smirked. âI wonât tell big brother,â she laughed, outloud. âThe killer and the caretaker,â she shook her head. âWho wouldâve thought?âÂ
âItâs been a few months,â you answered her question.
âIâm sure thatâs been fun,â her grin was wide.
You smiled, it had been fun. But it was also more than that. âHeâs good company,â you agreed. âPops enjoys when he comes over too.âÂ
That got Gemma to look at you, shock written all over her face.Â
âWell shit,â she looked at your face. âYouâre in fucking love.âÂ
âGemma,â you used her name as a scoff.Â
âThank God I never had daughters,â she shook her head looking over at Happy now who was focused on his conversation with Kozik.Â
Jax walked in then, a whistle came from Tig to get the guys attention and they all gathered, making their way out the clubhouse.Â
Just when you thought Happy was going to follow them out, he walked straight over to you.Â
âHap,â Gemma smiled and squeezed his arm as she dismissed herself.Â
âGemma,â he nodded back to her, giving her a small smile.Â
âWhere you guys headed?â Your gaze moved from Gemma to Happy.Â
He just gave you a look. He wasnât touching you, but he was towering over you.Â
âI hate this shit,â you sighed.Â
âBe back later,â he said like he was running to the grocery store.Â
âBe careful,â you brought your hands up to his kutte, not in a romantic way, just a quick tap.Â
âAlways am,â he nodded.Â
âNuh-uh,â you shook your head in disapproval. âNone of that, what I said wasnât a statement or sentence or casual conversation.â You dropped your hands. âIt was an order.âÂ
âYes, maâam.â His lip twitched slightly as he said it.Â
âGo get âem, killer,â it took everything in you not to kiss him.Â
âNo.â He shook his head unemotionally, his way of showing disapproval. âDonât like when you call me that.âÂ
You quickly wrapped your arms around him, giving him a hug. The only people left inside were family and crow eaters and itâd do you more good than harm for them to see you pressing up on Happy. As you squeezed your arms around him you whispered.Â
âCome home to me in one piece, Hap.âÂ
â
You fell asleep on the couch. Phone in hand and next to your face in case you got a call. When you woke up to someone shaking you slightly awake, you went to grab them when you heard his voice.Â
âItâs me,â two words was all it took.Â
You took him in, a few cuts on his face, not too deep, just a little scuffed up. Your fingers
ran over them and he didnât even flinch. This was what it really was, what it would be. Him going out and doing things like this, you worried at home. Worried. That was all you did lately. It felt like it was who you were. Someone who worried and took care of everyone.Â
âYou donât need to take care of me.â
Happy always knew how to read your mind. And that was true though, wasnât it? You didnât need to take care of him.Â
âI think youâre the first person I havenât had to take care of but want to take care of.âÂ
It was true, obviously you wanted to take care of your father, but there was also an element of having to. This was different. You didnât need to do anything. This was all purely want. A desire. Something to look forward to. One thing for yourself. Happiness. Happy.
âHappy?âÂ
He hummed.Â
âI love you.âÂ
It was the first time you said it. First time you ever said it to a man who wasnât considered family. Although, Happy was considered family. Your father loved him, you hadnât seen him enjoy talking with someone so much since JT. But that was one of the many reasons why you loved Happy. That, and his presence. His ability to make you smile when there was nothing to smile about. His fierce loyalty, to the club, to you, to his mother. The list could go on forever.
His hand came up and cradled your face. His palm was so big it covered your entire face. âI love you, too.âÂ
And at that moment, you should have gone back to one of the dorms, hell, even your truck. You should have made love for the rest of the night, laughing in his arms and feeling him inside you, loving every part of him as he worshiped every inch of you.Â
But then there was a scream.Â
Followed by a slam.Â
Your father walked out of the room, he looked frantic. He looked scared. His voice shook as he called out a name. You expected it to be yours but it wasnât.Â
âJohn?â His head swivelled. Looking for a man heâd never find.Â
You gripped Happy tighter as you moved to stand up and while he gladly lifted you up off the couch with ease, he stepped in front of you to handle this himself.Â
âI got it,â he said back to you and was walking over to your father.Â
You couldnât hear them, but you saw the minute your father recognized Happy. How his tension eased away the minute Happyâs hand landed on his shoulder.Â
The commotion got everyone up, patches stood in the hallway with their guns drawn, the main clubhouse was filled now with club members.Â
âSâalright!â Happy yelled out over his shoulder. âYou want some fresh air, Lieutanant?â He always called your dad that, a sign of respect.Â
He nodded. Everyoneâs eyes were on them, watching as Happy led your father outside.Â
âAre you going to be staying over again tonight, Happy?â Your fatherâs voice echoed in the silent clubhouse.Â
You immediately closed your eyes. Suddenly, everyoneâs eyes werenât on them, but on you instead.
There was one set you felt burn into you. It was where you looked first when you opened your eyes again. Jax mustâve been in the hallway, but had moved closer into the main part of the clubhouse when he realized it was your dad who was causing the commotion. Similarly to Happy he had cuts and bruises on his face.Â
He waited a few minutes, likely for everyone to go back to their business and you could have a sort-of private conversation.Â
âIt serious?â He sat down next to you.
You thought back to seconds ago when you told Happy you loved him.Â
âYeah, itâs serious,â you smiled, nodding.Â
âHow long?â He leaned back.Â
âBeen about 6 months,â you thought back. He looked shocked, his head snapping to you. âI didnât tell you because I didnât know what it was, we were just hanging out.âÂ
âI wouldnât have given a shit no matter what it was,â Jax said. It got silent, both of you just sitting there. âYou and Hap, huh?â Jax was clearly trying to wrap his head around it.Â
Before you could answer, Happy was walking back through the door and you were standing up and making your way over to him.Â
âHeâs fine,â he looked down at you. âWants to sit outside for a bit.âÂ
âI knew I shouldnât have brought him here,â you inhaled.Â
âHeâs fine,â he repeated again, this time softer, but more convincing.Â
You felt the tears in your eyes well up, crossing your arms you inhaled harshly again and Happy matched it with a sigh.Â
âSâalright, câmere, none of that.â He brought one hand around your shoulders and brought you against his chest.Â
âThank you,â you managed to say through sobs.Â
Happyâs eyes connected with Jaxâs, he was smiling on the couch, a nod escaped him and Happy nodded back. It was how these guys communicated, and Happy was fluent in nods and grunts.Â
He pulled your face from his chest and moved his head to point to the door. âCome on, weâre gonna wait for the birds.âÂ
â
That was the last time you brought your dad to the clubhouse. If anything, that night was the beginning of the true end. You had 6 more months with him until one day, he just wasnât awake anymore.Â
Everything felt like a tunnel. Like you were stuck in one. Like you were looking through one. Like you were hearing through one.Â
And yet, you only had one thought in your head. Buttercups.Â
You had replayed this day in your head for 10 years. The day your father got his cancer diagnosis you thought through what youâd wear. What shoesâsomething comfy, but something nice. People would probably talk, they always did. You thought through how youâd plan for it, who youâd have to invite, where youâd hold the repass, what youâd say, youâd probably have to say something, he was your father after all. Your mind would jump to the food, what kind of food did you serve at these things? Would you get a priest? Your family wasnât exactly religious, but surely you needed someone to spit out some silver lining hope to keep everyone together. To give everyone that one nice thing to say when they left and went back to their normal lives. As they got in their cars and drove back home and stripped from their black clothing, bellies full of chicken parm and garden salad. Thatâs what you figured would make sense, italian. Fan favorite, something for everyone.
You wouldnât have that moment though, you wouldnât be able to strip yourself from this. Youâd go home and feel the emptiness of the house, the silence of it, youâd probably have an empty stomach, for days. Because no matter how long you had to prepare for this moment, it still managed to shock you, push you in a direction you never expected to be.Â
Like now, you were in the front row of the funeral parlor, staring at the casket, thinking about buttercups. The small yellow weed that disguised itself as a flower. Your father used to sit with you in the yard when you were a kid, beer in one hand, cigarette in another, jeans littered with the green stains of a freshly mowed lawn.Â
âCan we put these in a vase?â You asked him with a hand picked bouquet of buttercups.Â
âWe can.â He chugged down his beer and handed it to you, you placed the short weeds into the neck of the bottle and they sat there perfectly.Â
âYou know these are butter flowers.â He picked one out from the bottle and twirled the stem in his finger.Â
âButter flowers?â You looked at him like he was crazy. âWhat, they make butter out of it?âÂ
âNo,â he chuckled. âThey say if you hold it under your chin and it reflects yellow, it means you like butter.â His hand pushed out and held the weed under your chin, you lifted your head up slightly to accommodate, and your father smiled. âYep, you like butter.âÂ
You laughed, taking the flower from his hand. âEveryone likes butter.âÂ
âNot everyone,â he shook his head and pointed his finger to his chin as he jetted it out and forward.Â
Without a second thought you pushed the flower under his chin and there was no reflection, your brain couldnât comprehend that it was because of the thickness of his beard preventing a reflection.Â
âNot even on your popcorn?â You looked baffled at your father.Â
âNot even on my popcorn.â He shook his head and placed the bottle between you two.Â
âHow can they tell?â You looked at the flowers, like theyâd tell you themselves.Â
âThey know you,â your father answered without a trace of question in his voice. âLike I know you.âÂ
âI didnât know you didnât like butter on your popcorn,â there was a hint of heartbreak in your tone.Â
âNow you do,â he brushed it off like it meant nothing. Like you werenât completely destroyed by the idea of not knowing your father. Maybe thatâs where the weight of this all started. At 7 years old in your backyard. You donât think you ever got to know him, maybe he didnât even get to know himself. He went to war young, came back fucked up, got left with a kid, got sick, he had so many things happen that prevented him from being his trueself, from experiencing life the way he planned.
You felt a hand grab yours. You werenât sitting down anymore, you were standing in line next to your dadâs brother, no clue how you even got here, but nonetheless you were in the receiving line, shaking hands of everyone offering their condolences.Â
After sitting through the tunnel vision of the receiving line, you felt a warm body behind you, then a squeeze of your side. A soft kiss pressed to your temple and you fell back into it.Â
âLetâs go sit down,â He rasped into your ear.
That tunnel vision widened for a minute and you realized you were on the prayer kneeler, frozen over the casket, your hand wrapped in your fathers.Â
âHow long have I been here for?â You were mortified, wishing you were back in that tunnel.Â
âDoesnât matter,â he rasped again, his hands strong on yours pulling you to a standing position.Â
Turning around you saw the packed funeral home, all the seats were filled, the standing room was also pretty full, there was a sea of kuttes, a lot of veterans, people you never met before.Â
âI canât do this, Hap.âÂ
âYou can,â it was delivered like a demand but it was truly him offering you confidence.Â
And you did. You threw a handful of buttercups on the casket as they lowered it to the ground, buried your head into Happyâs chest as you sobbed through the prayers and speeches. You werenât able to get up and talk, when the cries stopped your face was so puffy, your body had no energy to get up let alone say something profound.Â
Which is why Happy did.Â
The loss of his body heat next to yours was replaced by Jax as he sat down next to you, tossing an arm around the chair so you could lean into him as Happy went up to the small podium. It was comical, the 6 foot 3 man towered over it, the bright beige pristine podium, only detail being a small layered moulding at the top, but other than that, completely blank. The complete opposite of the biker standing behind it, in a long black sleeve button up, even with the jeans and long sleeve you could see the tattoos on his hands, on his chest, on his head.Â
Happy was the opposite of all of this, the mourning, the sadness, the properness of it all. And yet, there he was.Â
âI, uh, got to spend the last year with The Lieutenant," Happy began, gripping the podium and looking down despite not having a piece of paper to read off of. âIt started out as Sundays, weâd sit on the porch, watch birds, eat food, play cards if he was up to it. But, uh, Sundays turned into Tuesdays, and Thursdays, and Fridays, and then Mondays, and soon enough everyday.â He smirked a little. âIâd like to say it was just because The Lieutenant was great company, which he was, but it had a lot more to do with me being enamoured by his daughter.â Happy paused, looked at you and offered the softest twitch of his lips. Not a smile, nowhere near one actually, just a soft acknowledgement. âHer ability to put everyone else before herself, her humor, her mind, any moment I could spend getting to know her more was one Iâd jump at.â He laughed a little to himself, it wasnât like him to talk this much, open up about his feelings. âBut along with that, came getting to know him, and I can say, I see where his daughter gets it from, her selflessness, her ability to inspire,â he paused and shook his head. âThis last year I saw a man lose himself, but never lose who he was. A father, a friend, a brother.â He cleared his throat. âIâm lucky to have met himâa better man to have met him.â He inhaled and looked up at you and nodded. âGave him a promise that first day I met him, that Iâd take care of his daughter, and itâs why Iâm standing up here right now, Iâll do whatever is in my power to keep that promise.â His eyes were on yours and you wiped the stray tears away. âRest easy, Lieutenant."Â
â
After the funeral, you stayed a total of 1 day at your fatherâs place before crashing at the clubhouse and once Happy found out you werenât staying at home, you think Jax called him that night, he brought you to his moms house.
It probably wasnât the best move, you fell back into caretaker mode without missing a beat. Spending time with Happyâs mom and aunt was different though, it was a lot of laughing, talking about random things, youâd cook, read, relax. It was the feminine touch you didnât experience when taking care of your dad. Heâd eat anything, usually take out, youâd watch sports games and play cards, nothing like this.
But Happy saw it for what it was. You went from one caretaking role to another, not mourning your father just putting a bandaid on the grief.
You were standing by the sink, hand deep into a dutch oven cleaning the bottom of it when the door opened. Looking over your shoulder, you smiled.Â
âHey, killer.â You nodded at him.Â
He made his way over to you in seconds.Â
âWhat I say?â He cupped your face in his hands.Â
âHey, Hap,â you enunciated.Â
âHey,â he placed a kiss on your lips.Â
âWho cooked?â He frowned looking at the stove where there was a mess of pans and bowls of batter.Â
âMiles,â you followed his gaze. âWoke up too late and missed breakfast,â you looked back at the dutch oven that used to have a bowl full of pot roast in it. âAnd lunch,â you laughed. âThereâs left overs in the fridge if you want, Iâll join you after I finish cleaning all of this up.âÂ
At that, Happy pulled away from you so fast you barely could register that he was opening the back sliding door.Â
âHey!â His voice boomed. âDickhead!â As he stepped outside, the door slid shut but you could still hear him. âYou the one who made pancakes?âÂ
Miles mustâve answered because Happyâs voice echoed even louder. âYou gonna clean your shit up?â You couldnât help but smile, placing the dutch oven on the drying rack you went to dry your hands off. You knew better than to start cleaning what was on the stove, so you left it.Â
âMy old lady ainât your fuckinâ maid.â Was the last thing out of his mouth when he came back inside.Â
âGet your things,â he walked right past you and into his motherâs room where you heard his voice a lot more low and calm.Â
Grabbing your bag, you placed it cross-body and waited for him at the front door.Â
When he reappeared, he was shaking his head. âNo, all of your things, your clothes, your toothbrush, all your bags.âÂ
âWe goinâ somewhere?â You asked the question as you walked past him and into the guest room where you had been staying and keeping most of your things, not that it was a lot.Â
âYea,â Happy answered, giving no more context.Â
He grabbed the bag from your hand and opened the front door.Â
âKeys,â he dropped the bag in the bed of your truck and held his hand up for you to toss him the truck fob.Â
The ride was silent for a few minutes, but Happyâs knuckles white on the steering wheel showed you there was more going on in his head than he was letting up.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â You asked him. âSomething happen with the cartel?âÂ
Happy was a man of few words but heâd keep you in the loop on club things the moment things got more serious between you two. With your dad gone he knew that worry would manifest somewhere else, and he didnât want to make this harder than it already was. Heâd say enough for you to get the picture, know what was going down and when. Itâs why some of the guys were staying at Happyâs momâs house and keeping a close eye on the truck in the driveway.
âNo,â he kept his eyes on the road.Â
Alright, if it wasnât that, then you were at a loss.Â
âHap, why do I get the impression that youâre mad at me?â You leaned forward trying to get a look at his face.
âAinât mad at you,â he softened slightly. You gave him a look that he saw out of the corner of his eye and he fell back against the seat. âYouâre gonna move in with me.â
âOh?â You lifted your brows. âGlad you made that decision for the both of us.âÂ
âYou wanna move back to your Pops?â Happy looked over at you now.Â
That got you angry. âDonât be a dick,â you crossed your arms.Â
âAinât being a dick, just being real.âÂ
âTake me home then,â you shrugged. It was the last place you wanted to be, but you felt like you had to prove yourself to Happy right now.Â
âYes maâam,â he nodded and made a u-turn in the middle of the road, no hesitation.Â
He pulled into your driveway 30 minutes later. The truckâs familiar creaks and rumbles as it pulled into the gravel lot sent a visceral reaction of memory and pain through you. Happy pulled into the spot that still had impressions of the truckâs tires. The way he put the car in park, you could tell he was mad, and how he pulled the ebrake up made it even more apparent.Â
The weight of being here, seeing the yard, the house, the porch, it made a pit in your stomach, all that tough guy act and needing to prove yourself was gone and replaced with a wobble in your voice as you caved.
âGive me 10 minutes and Iâll be back with my stuff.â You hopped out the car and slammed the door, it felt like the only thing left you could control, your anger.Â
You walked through the front door, avoiding the back porch because it would be the thing that broke you. Bracing for the worst, you held your breath for a minute, expecting the house to be a disaster. When you got back from the funeral, you didnât take care of anything, no cleaning, just the bare minimum to get by. Then, you just didnât show back up. You didnât hire anyone, you didnât pay any bills, so you were expecting things to be rotting, much like you. Just a stagnant piece of grief just rotting in place from the inside out.
To your surprise, the house smelled like sea salt, driftwood and clorox. The light switch worked, the clocks were ticking and accurate. Everything was working, the house was kept.
âHappy,â you mumbled and felt your eyes get heavy.Â
With a deep sigh, you began to pack things up. Taking a few photos from the staircase, you made your way upstairs to your room. Filling four bags of clothes, mementos, and other things, you dropped them by the steps and trekked them down two by two.Â
As you struggled to make your way through the opening between the stairs and the kitchen, Happyâs tattooed arm extended out and grabbed them from you with no struggle whatsoever.Â
He held them with such ease, his eyes were doing more of the strenuous work by boring into you.Â
âYou gotta go through this.â
âAnd if I canât?â
âYou can,â he nodded.Â
With that, you sighed. Turning to the kitchen and grabbing a plastic bag for a couple more things to take with you. After you did that, you nodded towards the door, the back door. âCâmon. Take me home, killer.â Despite being eternally grateful for everything he did, you were still upset with how he spoke with you earlier. It was your last jab at him, and he knew it, which is why he let it slide, said nothing, and just opened the door for you to make your way to the back porch. He locked the door and began his dissent to your truck, leaving you alone for a few moments. Standing there, you looked at the empty rocking chair, the tears welling up in your eyes. It was then that your eyes jumped up when they saw something speed past. The Towhee bird landed right on the hummingbird feeder that Happy had put up over a year ago. They werenât the type of bird that liked porch feeders, they were ground birds, foraged in the leaves, itâs why they loved the rain. Â
âHoly shit,â you mumbled as it flew right onto the rocking chair. It swayed ever so slightly and you stood completely still, hand over your mouth fighting the tears back.Â
âHi dad,â you whispered so softly, you werenât even sure if you said it outloud.Â
Standing there you looked out to the trees, the bird there too, just watching in silence. And with no warning at all, the bird flew away.Â
And you were left alone again. But you werenât really alone.Â
You needed whatever push this was. Start the true grieving process, not avoid it.
Moments later, you followed the steps down into the driveway and saw Happy leaning against the truck, toothpick in his mouth, looking up at the sky. It was clear he wasnât eager to leave or rush you, just patiently waiting. He wouldâve waited there all night without question.Â
As you walked up to him, you pulled the toothpick out of his mouth and he looked down at you.Â
âWhat do you think about me moving in with you?âÂ
âWould love it.âÂ
âAlright, letâs move me in,â you nodded.Â
âYes maâam.âÂ
âYou paid the bills and kept the place clean.â It was spoken as a statement, your eyes soft with appreciation. He didnât say anything or make any expression, just looked at you. âYou didnât have to do that.âÂ
His chest rose and fell without any acknowledgement again.Â
âThank you,â you let the wall down and the tears fell.Â
He immediately brought you into him, placing your face against his chest. His hand was over your head, his fingers moving slightly against your skull, soothing you.Â
âAinât gotta thank me,â he whispered.Â
You squeezed him harder and let the wails just escape you. Happy kept comforting you, bringing his other hand around you to hold you just as tight back.Â
He didnât say anything else, just let you go through this, like he said earlier, you needed this. It was probably 30 minutes of this, just sobs. When you ran out of tears, you pulled your head out from his kutte. Happy moved his hands to your face, his thumbs wiping the tear stains. He didnât show affection this way much, it was saved for your more intimate moments, when it was just you, but then again, thatâs exactly what this was. Just you.Â
âIâll pay you back,â you sniffed.Â
âNo you wonât,â Happy shook his head, dropping his hands.Â
That made you want to cry again, but there was nothing left. Just the ache in your heart, in your gut.Â
âIâm gonna come back this week and clean this place out. I donât know if I want to rent it out or put it on the market.â Changing the topic felt like the only direction to go now.
âWe can move in here if you want,â Happy wasnât taking his eyes off you.Â
âNo,â you shook your head, a deep exhale matching your expression. âThe porch is the only place here that holds any good times. Inside is like a fucking hospital wing, itâd be better to let someone else create their own memories than me try to erase the weight of mine. Plus, you got a porch.âÂ
âI do,â he nodded.Â
You went on your tip-toes, hands resting on his kutte and placed a kiss to his mouth, not a sexual one, but something softer, something intimate that said everything while saying nothing at all, when you pulled away you placed the toothpick back in his mouth and smiled.Â
âThank you.â This time it was said without the waterworks, but you meant it just as much.
Happy took the long way back, the one that was your favorite, through the state park so you could see the trees, hear the birds, and feel a little peace.Â
As you approached the light that brought you back to the main road, he cut through the silence.Â
âDidnât mean to be a dick,â his hand was resting on the wheel, âwhen I got back to Maâs, and I saw you just back in that grind of taking care of shit for other people, especially fuckinâ Miles,â he shook his head, âit ainât right.âÂ
âI donât mind, your momââ
Happy cut you off. âYou stopped doing shit for you.âÂ
âIââ you didnât know what to reply to that. He was right. You did.Â
âI love that you and my mom and aunt get along, I love that you want to take care of her,
but you have to take care of you, too.âÂ
He was right again.Â
âI shouldnât have brought you there.â He shook his head.Â
âItâs not on you, Hap. Iâll find something to take care of no matter where I am.âÂ
Happy said nothing to that right away, it was like his mind was turning something over. 5 minutes passed as he turned into a parking lot. You saw the Charming municipal building and frowned, but before you could say anything Happy was jumping out of the truck and telling you to follow him. âCâmon.âÂ
With caution, you trailed behind him. Not because you were nervous about where he was bringing you but because you were trying to figure it out in your head first.Â
As he opened the large metal door for you, you walked in and were met with the sound of barking, tons of it.Â
The room was just a long hallway of fences and gates, it smelled like a petting zoo, and the sounds of yipping and barking overwhelmed you. Turning around you looked at Happy and he was shutting the door.Â
âHappy?âÂ
âPick one,â he pointed at the fences.
You gave him a deadpan stare.
âIf youâre gonna find something to take care of, might as well be something that needs takinâ care of.âÂ
âWhat?â You kept the same expression on.Â
âPick one,â he repeated.
You turned to look at the dogs and then back at him.Â
A smile, he had the biggest grin on his face. One that made you smile, too.Â
You walked down the hallway, each dog running up to the gate except for the last one in the row. A black staffie mix, the smallest white spot on her snout.Â
âHer,â you lifted your head up and looked at her informational tag. âBlack Dog.â That was it. She had no other information.Â
âLike the Led Zeppelin song,â Happy walked over and squatted in front of the fence, his finger sticking into the holes of it trying to get her to approach. She leaned forward and sniffed his finger and then began licking him. âLooks like youâre coming home with us.â Â
â
There was very little to celebrate these days with everything going on at the club. The niners, the gang task force, Opieâs death, and the random home invasions, it had been a lot of negative shit. You could feel it when Happy walked through the door. You really felt it when the home invasions were happening more frequently and he had a prospect, or even more terrifying, Chibs or Bobby take watch if he wasnât home. They carried a lot of the heaviness too, you could see it in their eyes, their demeanor. The club needed a pick me up.
âMy old lady wants to have everyone over this weekend, grill and shit.â Happyâs voice cut through the guys as they walked out of chapel.Â
âSânot a bad idea,â Jax said, placing a cigarette into his mouth. âHave her call my mom, Gemma would probably love to Donna Reed some shit up. Sheâll actually probably want to have it at her place.âÂ
âSheâs gonna ask if she can bring Zep.â Happy plopped down on the bar stool.
Jax smirked, âYour dog?âÂ
Happy nodded, âTheyâre bonded.âÂ
âFuck it, the more the merrier.â Jax twisted off a beer cap.Â
â
Gemmaâs place was packed. People inside, people outside, people in the driveway, hell there were even some people in the street. It was a mix of crow-eaters, old ladies, families, locals who supported the club, and a sea of patches. Some from SAMCRO, some from other nearby charters. You recognized some faces, a few youâve known since you could remember and some more newly acquainted faces that knew you not as a Teller family friend but as Happyâs old lady.Â
You had been hard at work well before the crowd showed up, helping Gemma with food prep, cooking, organizing, all of that.Â
âThis was a good idea,â she said to you as she peeled back the husks of the corn and dropped it into the tin dish. You were placing the bowl of melted butter in the corner of it and getting ready to move to skewers.Â
âEveryoneâs been carrying a lot of shit, they needed something to cut through it,â you said, grabbing the bag of wooden sticks next to her.Â
Gemma gave you a look, a knowing one. One that said she was impressed with how you settled into club life.Â
âNever thought youâd end up knee deep in club shit,â she said, moving to the oven now.Â
You let out an audible laugh at that. âWhen I was 16 you practically had me married off to Jax, â you shook your head as you pierced the stick through the chunk of meat.Â
âI just needed something to distract him from heartbreak,â she was smiling, you could hear it in her voice.Â
âNothing could have ever distracted Jax from Tara,â you dropped the skewer into a fresh tin dish.Â
âHappyâs right,â she said now, more seriously.Â
âHe usually is,â you nodded.Â
âNo,â she laughed. âHeâs the right one,â she walked back over to you. âYour dad would be glad, baby.â She let her hand wrap around and squeeze your arm before going to help you with the skewers.Â
Happy was right. Your dad would be glad.
âHe would have loved this,â you nodded to the food, with a chuckle.Â
Gemma laughed with you. âOh, he would have gotten here two hours earlier than you to help.â That last word had sarcasm behind it.Â
âAnd would have tried everything twice,â you smirked.Â
âQuality testing,â you both said at the same time and laughed.Â
You felt the weight almost immediately, it was that reminder of missing him. You loved talking about him, any chance you got, but it always came with this moment, the reminder that it was all you had left, the memories.Â
You fell silent, your focus shifting to the skewers, at least, so it seemed. Your mind was elsewhere. There had been a lot of growth on your part, but on moments like this, where you were focusing on others, helping out, it weighed on you more.Â
The focus you had was pulled because one minute you were shoving a pepper down the pointed wooden skewer and the next you were cursing and letting it hit the floor.Â
âShit!â You called out and grabbed your palm, moving to the sink and turning the faucet on.Â
âCut yourself?â Gemmaâs concern sounded from over your shoulder.Â
It was a slice, not deep, but long, it mustâve slipped while you were in your thoughts.Â
âIâll be fine, just gotta wrap it up,â you exhaled as you watched the blood mix with the running water.Â
âIâll get the first aid kit,â Gemma was leaving the kitchen to grab the kit from the linen closet.Â
As you waited, you heard the back doorknob turn and swing opene into the kitchen.Â
âHey, I brought Zep, think sheâll be better company with you in here, I donât want her eating Gemmaâs gardenias.â Happy trailed in with the leash and your black staffy.Â
She didnât have a tendency to eat plants, but she did get into Happyâs momâs gardenias last week, but you later found out it was because she was using compost in her soil and Zep loved red bell peppers, in all forms.Â
âYeah, you can let her eat the peppers on the ground.â You nodded at it as you held your hand under the water.Â
âWhat happened?â Happy ignored you and stepped to the sink to see the blood.Â
âSliced my hand, Iâm fine,â you said.Â
Before Happy could answer, Gemma was back in the kitchen. âRelax Smiley,â Gemma said as she could feel the tension coming off him. âI got our girl.â
She had pulled the gauze out already and pulled your hand to wrap it tight.Â
âThanks for bringing Zep,â you looked over Gemma at Happy who was staring at your hand. âIâm fine, Hap. Really.âÂ
âJax told me to tell you that some of the boys from Nevada are coming up,â Happy changed the topic, his eyes still on your cut before moving to pick the skewer off the ground and feed it to Zep.Â
âGreat,â Gemma mumbled. âWeâre gonna need more skewers.â She looked up at you and smirked.Â
â
With the party in full swing, you took to one of the picnic tables in Gemmaâs garden. Zep had been sprawled out on Tigâs lap in the grass, enjoying the attention from anyone who would give it to her. Before you knew it, you felt someone move in behind you, his hand wrapping around your waist.Â
âHowâs the hand?â He moved his hand from your waist and up to your hand, turning it up and around so he could see the wrap.Â
âIâm fine, Hap,â you leaned back into him.Â
He had no problem cradling his body around yours. Your head rested against his face.Â
âWhat did you do today?â His voice was soft in your ear.Â
It was a question he asked you pretty frequently, it wasnât so much asking about your day, but asking to make sure you werenât forgetting to prioritize yourself.Â
You sighed, âMy focus today has been you guys.âÂ
âShit around here will always be shit around here,â he ran his thumb up and down your thigh. There was a slight tickle against your cheek, the toothpick Happy had in his mouth moved just slightly against you as he spoke. âYou canât forget you.âÂ
âThis is for me,â you closed your eyes and pushed more against him, so your entire back was flush against his front.
You felt him chuckle. âSomething else,â he grumbled. âSomething fulfilling,â it was the same speech youâd gotten over the last few months, just different words as the reminder.Â
âI could think of something really fulfilling,â your head fell back to look up at him, your hand moving back to graze across his jeans.Â
Happy let out a low growl, the toothpick in his mouth moving to the complete opposite side so he could pull it out before your lips landed on his. âI have zero complaints,â he mumbled.Â
You laughed against his mouth and placed a quick peck against his mouth again.
âI love you.âÂ
âI love you,â he nodded, stealing one more kiss from you.Â
âWhen did you know?â You asked, the question falling fast from your tongue.Â
âThe moment I fucking saw you,â his answer came even faster.
âThatâs a lie,â you shook your head.Â
âI donât lie,â he retorted. âI walked up to the bar, oblivious to you and when you pushed
that beer towards me, I fuckinâ fell in love.âÂ
âIâm being serious, Hap.â You tapped his chest with the back of your hand.Â
âMe too,â he shrugged. âAfter that night, you wouldnât leave my mind. Saw you with Jax the morning after, thought I stepped on some shit. Tried to forget it, forget you.âÂ
âAnd then you saw me at the diner,â you remembered.Â
âAnd then I saw you at the diner,â he nodded.
âThat day, my dad asked you if you loved me,â you remembered that morning on the porch.Â
âYou didnât give me the chance to answer him,â he didnât even need a minute to recollect the memory.Â
âI didnât want you to have to lie to him.âÂ
âWouldnât have lied. I did love you, he saw that.âÂ
âI know things arenât great right now,â you looked around at the guys, it had been so long since you saw any of them truly enjoying themselves. âBut I need you to promise me youâre gonna be okay.â
âCanât do that,â despite how he delivered that information, he hated having to say it at all.Â
âThen promise me youâll be careful,â you turned your head.Â
Before he could answer, Jax was approaching you both.Â
âSorry to interrupt,â his smirk was smug until it wasnât. âI gotta run out,â his eyes jumped to Happyâs.
âIâm with you, prez.â Happy nodded, already moving to get up.Â
The loss of him behind you felt colder due to how you ended or more like how you didnât end the conversation you were having.Â
âSorry for leaving in the middle of your thing,â Jax leaned down and placed a quick kiss to your cheek since he hadnât even said hello to you yet.Â
âTwo apologies in the span of two minutes, youâre getting soft, prez,â you teased.Â
He smiled back, he looked like the younger version of him, the one that had fun, that laughed, that teased, that enjoyed life. The one that didnât have the weight of the club hovering over him.Â
âBe careful,â you looked at the group of them, your eyes hovering on Happy last.Â
Happy leaned down now, placing a kiss to the top of your head. âI promise.âÂ
â
You were tired, you had a few beers, ate some food, got to talk with some of the other old ladies, some of the other charter members. Now, you were helping Gemma clean up.Â
It was late and there were those thoughts gnawing in the back of your head. Were they okay? Did something happen? It had been hours since you heard anything.Â
âWorrying does nothing but wreak havoc on the heart, darlinâ,â Gemma said as she walked beside you.Â
Your eyes fell to the scar on her chest.Â
âI should know,â she whispered the joke with a chuckle.Â
Before you could even smile let alone respond, her phone rang. Your eyes darted to her cell that was on the kitchen table. You knew before you heard anything, you knew something happened.Â
âYeah?â Gemma answered and her eyes darted straight to yours. âAlright weâre on our way.âÂ
âWhat happened?â You heard your heart thumping in your ears.Â
âGrab your keys, Iâll fill you in on the drive to the club.âÂ
You were chewing the skin inside your mouth at every turn, Gemma was running through stop signs, red lights, going double the speed limit just to get to the clubhouse so it wasnât like you could do anything else but just wait.Â
âHeâs alright, baby. Jax said it was superficial.âÂ
âI didnât realize Jax got his medical license,â you were being catty but it was just a product of being worried.Â
âEasy now,â she warned, but you werenât worried about Gemma right now.Â
âJax said Happy was shot, that it went through his head,â you clarified.Â
âThat it skimmed his head,â Gemma corrected.Â
âHeâs probably fucking basking in the glory of it,â you shook your head thinking about the man you loved.Â
âChibs is handling it,â Gemma still had her own worry in her tone.
It was silent for the rest of the ride, which was only a couple minutes anyway.Â
Barreling into the clubhouse, you didnât freeze when you saw him or the blood. His shirt was soaked, the right side of his head was covered in it, and he was grinning from ear to ear as Chibs held the skin together on the top of his head with two pieces of gauze.Â
âYou gotta be fucking kidding me,â you called out as you made your way over.Â
âYouâre in for it, lad,â Chibs mumbled to Happy.Â
âIâm alright,â Happy said, lifting his hand to grab onto your arm.Â
You gave him a look and then placed your eyes back on Chibs.Â
âHeâs alright,â he nodded at you.Â
âWhat can I do?â You needed to be doing something, your adrenaline was racing through your veins.Â
âPainkillers and alcohol,â Chibs said but Gemma already beat you to it, she was holding up a bottle of booze and a bottle of pills. Chucky had already started putting some sort of cream on the gauze that he was handing to Chibs.Â
âHey,â Happyâs rasp pulled your attention and you squatted down to be eyelevel with him.Â
âYou told me you were going to be careful,â you felt your body slow down now, the worry creeping back in but this time more focused on the future, what couldâve happened, what could happen.Â
âI was,â he nodded. âShit just got a little crazy.âÂ
âWho was it?â Your voice had venom in it now. You could feel everyone's eyes jump to one another. Chibs to Jax, Juice to Tig, Gemma to Happy to see how he was going to respond.Â
He didnât get the chance to though because Nero was walking through the clubhouse and everyoneâs eyes fell on him.Â
There were a few words exchanged as he approached Jax at the bar, they volleyed the exchange back and forth and then Chibs chimed in which gave you all the information you needed.Â
âOne thing I donât want is this half-bright gang starting a war right outside Charming,â Jax said, firm in tone.Â
âThis was your crew?â You were standing up, moving in front of Nero now.
âAinât my crew,â he wasnât backing down but he wasnât rude in how he spoke either.Â
âIf you donât get your fuckinâ boys wrangled, I will.â You spoke through gritted teeth.Â
âAlright, down killer,â Jax stepped up now, moving between you and Nero.Â
âHey,â Happy spoke up now, giving his version of a warning shot.Â
âIf you donât handle it Jax, I fucking will.â You pulled your attention to your friend for decades, daggers in your eyes.
âNo one is going to handle anything, weâre gonna figure it out, alright? Just get him patched up,â his voice echoed off the clubhouse walls before Bobby walked up to him.Â
You gave a long stare to Jax then to Nero before moving where Gemma just stood up from, right in front of Happy. He was in pain, you could see it on his face as Chibs tried to stop the bleeding, but even with that he was looking at Nero and then Jax, that pull to not let someone talk to you in any way other than cheerily keeping him at the edge of his seat.Â
âSomething tells me you loved every second of the shitstorm you were in,â you leaned forward now, grabbing a cloth to wipe some of the blood clean from his face.Â
He smirked, completely ignoring Jax heading out on whatever he needed to handle.Â
Better be this fucking piece of shit gang, you thought internally to yourself.
Happy saw you tense and leaned just slightly to grab your hand which was still wrapped up from the cut. âWhereâs Zep?âÂ
âAt Gemâs with one of the prospects,â you gave in entirely now, letting your body relax knowing Happy was okay.Â
âI promised you Iâd be careful, you gotta do the same for me,â he let his finger brush over the wrap on your palm.Â
âAbsolutely not the same thing,â you held back a laugh.
He gave you a look, one you knew well.Â
âI promise Iâll be careful,â you squeezed his hand.
You two didnât say much more, you cleaned his face off while Chibs worked to sew the skin together and patch him up. Happy never let go of your hand, only giving you one free hand to wipe his face down but it was enough. His fingers danced around yours as you sat there, the time well into the night at this point.
âI got your dorm ready,â Gemma walked over and put a hand on Happyâs clean shoulder. âFigure if I let this one behind the wheel sheâs going to drive straight into one of those gangsterâs houses,â she gave you a playful smirk.Â
âIâd love to see that,â Happy grinned.Â
âDonât tempt her,â she tapped his shoulder before walking off.Â
âYeah, donât,â you shook your head.Â
âYou come here often?â Happy nodded his head at you, his grin shifting from playful to
fully devious.Â
âThatâs my cue,â Chibs said, standing up off the table and removing the gloves from his hands. âYouâre all good, Hap.â
âThanks,â Happy was taking the cloth you had used just previously and dabbed it along his head, picking up any extra residue he could. âCâmon, I think you oughta show me what you were gonna do to those pieces of shit.âÂ
âI donât think you want to know,â you were standing up now, eyes glued to the patch up job on his head, anger and upset mixing like a cocktail in your veins, in your thoughts, in your muscles.Â
âOh yes I do,â he nodded and gripped your waist, leading you back to his dorm.Â
â
You woke up to the smell of coffee, strong and with a hint of spice. Based on the power of the aroma, it had to be warm still, if you were lucky, maybe even hot. As your eyes opened, you saw the mug on the nightstand, the reaper image half peeled but still holding strongly printed on the side of the mug staring right at you as the steam slowly lifted over its head.Â
Sitting up, you grabbed the handle and immediately took a sip, your head falling back as the warm liquid trickled through your body, practically giving you chills. âFuckinâ perfect.â You hummed.Â
âHap?â You called out, thinking maybe he was in the bathroom but you were met with no response.Â
You picked up the flip phone that was tucked under your pillow after the few sips of coffee started to work their caffeine magic on you. There were no messages or calls. You werenât expecting anything, Happy wasnât in the habit of leaving notes behind. Gestures, sure. Hence, the coffee, but no notes.Â
You shot him off a text, you normally wouldnât care, but with his head you were just being precautious.Â
To Happy (6:45AM): Hate when you donât wake up next to me, the coffee is an appreciated second choice though. How you feeling?Â
After you hit send, you stood up, tossing one of the many SOA shirts that were kept in the dressers here. With that, you stepped out of the dorm and made your way down the hallway. There used to be a time that when you left Happyâs dorm at this hour of the morning, youâd peer out and make sure there was no one there, no prying eyes, no one to tease you or even know you stayed the night. A time where you stayed true to the idea of a walk of shame. Shoes in your hand verse on your feet, makeup smeared under your eyes, last night's clothes on.Â
You smirked at the memory and ducked into the kitchen for something to eat, opening the fridge door so you were fully behind it as you looked at the contents inside.Â
âWhat are you doing here?â The familiar boyish voice made you smile. As you turned your head around to see the blonde biker, you took in his face. It wasnât boyish at all, not anymore. Not for a long time. It was worn, heavy, his hair slicked back probably from all the times he stressfully ran his hands through it. It had been a rough night for him. A rough night for everyone. Your last interaction with Jax wasnât great, but you two tended to bounce back from these things pretty quickly.
You closed the fridge door, making it completely obvious all you had on was a long t-shirt.Â
âJesus Christ, you gotta be fucking kidding me,â Jax turned around, almost embarrassed.Â
âOh relax,â you shook your head and walked past him, back to the dorm where you grabbed the jeans you were wearing last night. You put them on, hopping your legs through the holes as you made your way back down the hallway. Leaving the zipper and button down, since the t-shirt did a well enough job at covering it. As you walked back into the kitchen, Jax had on a that playful smirk again, he was tossing two pieces of toast in the toaster, the jelly and butter already out on the counter.Â
âI slept here,â you looked into Jaxâs eyes which although were laced with burden, had a hint of humor behind them. âHap was too drugged up to drive and your mom was convinced I was going to hunt the guys down who shot at you so she set us up in a dorm,â you sipped from your mug. Â
âHapâs rubbing off on you,â he laughed, grabbing a beer from the fridge. It wasnât like his typical morning beer. Not his frat-like beer and bud in the morning before the shenanigans, this was something to take the edge off.
âOh, definitely,â you nodded, a smirk of your own on your face as you hoped the innuendo would go over his head, your eyes jumped to the toaster as the bread popped up.Â
âGross,â he tossed the beer cap at you and twisted his face up.Â
âI handled it, just so you know,â Jax said before turning around.Â
âHandled it or figured it out?â You asked curiously, a little jokingly.Â
âHandled.â He nodded, serious in response.Â
You nodded back at him, just as seriously, your way of thanking him.
âYou and Hap,â he turned to start buttering the toast. âYouâre good for each other.âÂ
âHap just gets me. Always has.â You smiled at Jax, one that came with memories you enjoyed reliving. Something you never expected of your life. He scooped an absurd amount of jelly onto the bread and turned to hand you one with a paper towel under it.Â
âYou know, when your Pops died, I was worried you were gonna get lost in that,â Jax said as he leaned back against the counter, his own breakfast in his hand. âIâm glad to see youâre alright.â
âIâm sorry to see youâre not,â you looked up at Jax, your longest friend, who looked so incredibly different, so incredibly worn. He was the furthest thing from alright.
âIâll be fine,â he smirked, it wasnât believable. Your face did no effort in holding that truth back, but you nodded to let him know you wouldnât push it. Â
âMaybe you just need to get laid,â you tried to lighten the mood.
âI need a shower and a nap,â he joked, a sigh escaping his mouth. âBut only got time to handle shit around here.âÂ
âShit around here will always be shit around here.â You quoted Happy, although Jax had no idea.
âThatâs what Iâm worried about,â Jaxâs face dropped to the version of it you barely recognized.Â
âYouâre gonna drive yourself into an early grave, Jax. Somethingâs gotta give.â You didnât know the ins and outs, you knew the club got into shit with the cartel and even without details you understood that was a hard thing to get out of, but you saw how the things that happened changed him, how worn he was, how shit the club had gotten.Â
âIf you could get out would you?â Jax was looking at you now, deep into your eyes, trying to see if you had a tell.
âIâm not in,â you took a bite of your toast.Â
âYou know what I mean,â he dropped his head.Â
âHappy isnât the kind of guy that leaves the club, Jax.â You put the toast down next to you.Â
âAnd youâve made peace with that?â His question was curious, like he wanted to see how things worked for you both.Â
At that moment, a prospect walked into the kitchen for coffee. âSorry,â Ratboy mumbled as he grabbed the pot and moved back to the bar. Just like clockwork a group of the guys came walking in from outside. Juice, Bobby, Tig, but no Happy. You had a few seconds before they approached you guys in the kitchen. Not enough time to actually have this conversation the way it should be had.Â
âI havenât made peace with anything,â you shook your head, kicking off the counter. âThis is who he is, Jax. I fell in love with him knowing that. The club is a complicated shitshow, but Happyâs my peace, if I got that, then Iâm good.âÂ
It was then that Tig walked in, âHey, doll,â he whispered to you before placing his hand on the doorframe and then tossing his thumb over his shoulder and looking at Jax. âBobbyâs got Nero on the line.âÂ
âAlright, thanks Tiggy.â Jax kicked off the counter too, his eyes moving from Tig to you.Â
âWe gonna finish this conversation later?â You stepped toward him, he was placing a cigarette in his mouth.Â
âNope,â he smiled and pinched your elbow as a form of thanks.Â
âTell Nero Iâm sorry for bringing the claws out,â you grimaced slightly.Â
âOh Iâd pay to see that again,â Tigâs face was now against the doorframe, smile so satisfied on his face.Â
âHe gets it,â Jax smiled and began walking out towards Bobby.Â
âWhereâs Hap?â You asked Tig, grabbing your toast again from the counter behind you and when you turned back around you bumped into someoneâs firm chest as they towered over you.Â
âRight here,â he looked down at you, seriousness on his face until a smile crept up. His thumb raised up and swiped at the remnants of jelly on your mouth.Â
âHi,â you smiled and he leaned down to place a kiss on your lips.Â
âI love love,â Tig said before leaving you two alone in the kitchen.Â
âHowâs your head?â Your eyes jumped to the bandage on his skull.Â
âYou tell me,â he had a devilish grin on his face.Â
âBe serious for two seconds,â you lightly slapped his chest.Â
âIâm all good,â he brushed his hand over his head. âCould use some of the same medicine you gave me last night.â
âYouâre shameless,â you laughed against him now but before you could act on anything, Bobby was walking into the kitchen. âWeâre going to meet up with Lin, you good to ride?âÂ
âI am,â Happy nodded and went to kiss you goodbye. âRaincheck,â he mumbled against your lips.Â
âBe. Careful.â You gripped his kutte before he walked away.Â
He nodded in agreement, all jokes and sarcasm wiped from his face. âPromise.âÂ
â
Two Years Later - The CemeteryÂ
âSo yeah, I guess thatâs really it,â you sighed as you wrapped up the entire story of you and Happy. âI realized, I never told you any of it because you were so grossed out that first time, then we hid it for so long and then it justâŠwas.â You leaned against the gravestone that held the name of your childhood best friend on it.Â
Jackson Nathaniel Teller.Â
"We got another dog, named him Opie,â you smirked. âClub got out of guns, Happy, Chibs, and Tig made sure of it.â You heard branches behind you snap and as you turned your head, you saw Happy there, no kutte on his body. Just a plain white t-shirt, hands in his pocket waiting for you patiently.Â
âYou asked me that time all those years back if I could get out, would I?â You took a deep inhale. âI wish I just said yes. Maybe it wouldâve sparked something in you.âÂ
âIt wouldâve been a lie,â you shook your head. âI gave you the only truth I knew. The one that remains true today. Happyâs my peace, if I got that, then Iâm good.â You turned around and saw Happy just staring off, making sure you were okay but giving you your privacy.Â
â
The Funeral
It wasnât an open casket. The damage had been too extensive to fix to a point of a proper viewing. Not that any of this was proper, this was pure SAMCRO when it came to the burial. The construction on the original clubhouse was renovated enough to have the service here first before bringing him to the cemetery. It was right, for this to be the place you all memorialized Jax.Â
You wished you couldâve been in a tunnel for this. Be so out of it that you were almost
numb. But that was the thing about healing, it meant you had to go through everything instead of bury it or ignore it. So you felt it. The loss of your longest friend. His death. His suicide.
Happy came up behind you, his hand moving around your waist as he stepped next to
you. Resting your head on his shoulder, you sighed.
âI shouldâve made him promise me heâd be careful,â you whispered.
âHe was,â Happyâs bandaged arm moved from your waist to your arm. The arm that was shot as a cover story. The one thing regarding the club Happy gave you every single detail on, leaving nothing out, none of the general overview, you two sat for hours discussing this.
As you arrived at the cemetery, you dropped your sunglasses from the top of your head to over your eyes, your face stoic, but still tear stained.Â
After everyone dropped flowers on the casket, it was Chibsâ turn to speak but you saw him leaned over, sobs coming from his mouth.Â
Standing up, you squeezed Happyâs hand and smiled at him. Mouthing 3 words to him you vowed to say everyday when you got married last year. The small ceremony at Happyâs momâs place, she wasnât able to leave home and you both knew it was something she wouldnât want to miss. Gemma hung up string lights, cooked a shit ton of food, it was a glorified barbeque and it couldnât have been any more perfect. Jax spoke, a short speech, but one that youâd remember forever.
As you walked towards the podium, you let your hand rest on Chibs for a moment before you kept going.
âFor those of you who donât know, Iâve known Jax since we were kids. He beat the shit out of Sean Heston when he saw him breaking into my locker and stealing my weed and lunch money, he made me do his math homework,â you chuckled through a slight lump in your throat. âHe took the fall for me when I was caught passing notes to Tara in class, he took me to my prom, just so my father could see me go with a date, he helped me with my sick father, in every way imaginable.âÂ
You swallowed. âJax was a brother to me in such a similar way that he was a brother to all of you.â You gripped the podium. âWhen I got married last year, Jax gave a speech, he said the thing heâd always tell Hap once he knew him and I were together, that heâs never known Happy to know peace outside of mayhem until he met me. To which my loving groom would reply: there is peace in mayhem.âÂ
âJax knows peace. So when I cry, when I miss him, when I miss my brother, Iâll know through all this mayhem, he finally knows peace.âÂ
â
The CemeteryÂ
âI hope you did find your peace, Jax.â You looked over your shoulder again, Happy was in the same spot, hands in his pockets still, patiently waiting.Â
âHe left today,â your eyes were still on Happy as you spoke. âWe both think this is what youâd want. What my dad would want.â You shrugged. âI hate how this is how things are now. Guessing what you two feel or want,â you sighed but shook your head.Â
âBut I guess whatâs more important is itâs what we want. We gotta do this for us.âÂ
At that you kissed your hand and then the headstone before standing up and walking up to Happy.Â
âYou come here often?â You teased as you approached, tucking your hands between the open spots between his arms and waist and wrapped around him.Â
He smirked, kissed you and picked up a white cup that was resting next to a tree root.
Coffee, dash of cinnamon, dash of nutmeg. Grabbing the cup you took a sip and closed your eyes. Perfect. Always perfect.Â
âGot the dogs in the truck, bags in the back, bike in the trailer and hitched it.âÂ
âYou gonna miss it?â You were worried heâd regret this, the club was all Happy knew, it was in his blood, embedded in his DNA.Â
âProbably,â he never lied to you.Â
His response made you uneasy.Â
âHey,â he raised his brows. âDid you have a nice morning?âÂ
âYes.â You nodded, you got to talk to your best friend.
âHave a good time last night?â He smirked, devilishly.
âYes.â You smirked back.
âTell me something youâre looking forward to.âÂ
âSmoking a fat joint when we get to the new house.â You were exhausted, packing and wrapping things up here, it was a lot.
âAsk me what Iâm looking forward to.â He lifted his head in a nod.
âWhat are you looking forward to?âÂ
âRiding out with you,â he rasped. âAnd peace,â he nodded, a tension in him releasing, you could feel it under your grip on him.Â
âSâhow we stay okay,â you agreed with him.Â
Happy reminded you every day for years to do something for yourself, thatâs how you stayed grounded, how you stayed okay. Now it was about time you two do something for both of you. Something that took you out of the day-by-day. Something that would offer you permanent peace. No more fighting for little daily joys. Life would be the joy.Â
So as you climbed into the passenger seat of your truck, you looked back at the two dogs whose tongues were hanging out and their tails wagging at the sites of you and smiled.Â
âYou know, Gemma had everyone calling us The Caretaker and The Killer,â you looked back at Happy.Â
âWonder what people will call us now,â he pulled the gear shifter down.Â
âHopefully nothing,â you lowered your window and let your hand rest out as the wind picked up against your scarred palm. âAnd if itâs something, hopefully just âin loveâ.âÂ
Happy looked over at you and smirked.Â
âMy old lady, the romantic.âÂ
âCome on, Hap. Take me home.âÂ
đSOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 Â (Let me know if youâd like to be added!)
Whumptober 2022: No.2 Nowhere To Run- Confrontation
Warnings: language, angst, semi-canon compliant for things in s4/s5
Word Count: 2k
A/N: Iâve been staring at this fic for a majority of the day. Coming down with a cold while trying to do Whumptober things is tough lmao. Anyway! I have an entire plan/plot for Natalieâs character (and Happy đ). This one-shot has nothing to do with any of that, though. đ Enjoy some angst between siblings!
SOA Taglist: @garbinge @masterlistforimagines @espieviolet99 @mijop @chibsytelford @thanossexual @anditsmywholeheart @i-just-read-stuff @bport76â @withmyteethâ @unicornucopia-fuckersâ @buckybarneshairpullingkinkâ @shadow-of-wonderâ @punkgoddess-98â @paintballkid711â @black-repunzel99â @lexondeckâ @jitterbugs927â @fanfic-n-tabulousâ @mijagifâ @frattspartyâ @winchestershiresauceâ @crowfootwritesâ @redpoodlernâ @beardburnsupersoldiersâ @mveggieburgerâ @xeniarocksâ @choochoo284â @littlekittymeowâ @beardsanddetectivesâ @i-love-scott-mccallâ @passionatewritesâ (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)
live footage of me the minute natalie slugged her brother. well deserved, overdue, I hope she beats him up more. I hope happy records it and puts it on loop at the clubhouse and all the boys sit around with popcorn watching it. this was amazing, I love natalie and I love how happy and her communicate without words. alsoooo love how jax was trying to pick apart their relationship in the midst of being interrogated. its like brother things but also selfish cause he really was trying to figure out what it meant for him. on character to the fullest đ€Ł
reblogging AGAIN because miss natalie was on my mind tonight and i remembered this fic and her fighting her brother and being with happy existed đ„°đ„°đ„°đ„° her and hap melt me in every way the devil is in the details and they have so many between them its just hrkabdjshdhskahhfjd i love it. i miss them. i love them. thank u for them
Anon Request: Happy x reader and maybe a fight breaks out at a party at the clubhouse and reader gets badly hurt and happy just looses his shit!! Thank you!
A/N: it's actually a crime how long its been since i've written for SOA omg. this was so much fun!!!! i hope you enjoy đ„°
The chaos level at the clubhouse had gotten to such a point that Charming PD had stopped responding to the noise complaint calls about it. They were long past the point of no returnâthe party was just going to have to burn itself. Which, to be fair, it usually would around 2AM or so when the booze was pretty much gone and the adrenaline started to wear off.
It was only midnight so there were still a good few hours to go before things began to fizzle. And, since there were some guys in from out of town, you knew they were going to wring everything they could out of each and every minute. Eventually the out of towners would start slinking off to whatever cheap motel room theyâd booked for themselves, the local guys drifting off to their dorm rooms. Most of them would be heading off with whoever the love of their life was that night.
You didnât have to wait for the clubhouse to empty out completely, but Happy wasnât going to feel right leaving until things quieted down enough for him to believe that things would continue to be relatively safe after he left. And you werenât going to go home without Happy.
âBartender, one more,â you said jokingly as you waved your empty water bottle at the prospect behind the bar. He looked ready to quitâwhether it was for the night or the club altogether you couldnât quite be sure.
Still, he gave you a tired smile as he reached under the bar and grabbed another water bottle from the pack they kept. âBetter slow downâdonât wanna get too out of control,â he said with dramatized concern as he slid it across the bar to you. The water was always room temperature because the fridges and coolers were sacred spaces reserved for beer only, but it was your only non-alcoholic choice besides the crappy coffee they occasionally had on-hand.
âAh, let me live a little,â you said, playing into the ruse as you twisted the cap off. After taking a long sip, you asked him, âThink you can bring last call around a little earlier than usual? Get everyone outta here a little sooner? That a decision you can make?â
He shook his head. âThere are no decisions that I can make.â
You laughed, knowing the truth of that statement. Youâd seen plenty of prospects come and go throughout the years, and none of them ever had a single ounce of pull. As was the way of things.
âHappy wonât leave if you tell him you wanna get outta here?â
You scoffed. âOf course he will. I donât wanna have to do that though.â
The two of you were sharing a laugh over that when you felt a hand rest on your shoulder. You knew without having to look behind you that it was Happy. Reaching up, you rested your hand on top of his before tilting your head back to get a halfway decent look at him.
âWere your ears burning?â you asked, humor laced into your tone.
The prospect chuckled at that from the safety of the other side of the bar, but when he saw the look on Happyâs face he immediately changed his tune. Suddenly there was nothing more important to him than making the sure bar-top was wiped down to perfection.
You tapped his hand to get his attention back on you. âWhatâs up?â
âChecking in.â He gave your shoulder a light squeeze.
You nodded, spinning around on your seat so that you were facing him. Leaning back, your back and elbows rested against the very edge of the bar. You let your legs hang wide so that Happy could easily stand between themâhis preferred place to be. He took the invitation, stepping in closer to you. With practiced ease he rested one hand on either side of you before leaning in to kiss you.
You didnât rush your way out of the kiss. When he pulled back, it wasnât far, and you could still feel his breath against your skin. You smiled. âDoing better now,â you said, able to speak quieter than you had been since he was so close.
He nodded, stealing a quick kiss. âGood.â
Reaching behind you, he grabbed the beer bottle that the prospect had knowingly set on the bar for him. He was stepping back, turning around ready to head back into the fray. You caught his hand before he got too far. The tips of your fingers barely caught his but it was still enough to stop him in his tracks.
When he turned to face you again, there was a look of mild confusion on his face. Raising your eyebrows, a slightly pleading expression on your face, all you said was, âHap?â
He didnât need to ask any follow-up questions. Taking another sip of his beer, he said, âSoon. Promise.â
That was a satisfying enough reassurance. You let go of his hand, a smile just starting to curl the ends of your lips. âThank you.â
With a nod he was gone and heading back to where most of the Redwood guys were lingering by the pool table. Itâd been at least a couple hours since anyone had actually used it for pool, though. At this point in the night, it was a dancefloor riddled with shot glasses. A recipe for disaster, but that never seemed to matter to anyone.
The constant noise of clubhouse parties was something that you had learned to tune out over the years. The loud music and din of multiple conversations turned into static for the most part. You could lock into the conversations that you were part of, or that were taking place right next to you, but other than that you let it all fly clean above your head. It suited you just fine, much like staying perched either at a safe distance from the throes of it all at the bar, or the safety of sitting with Happy who would inevitably have a protective hand or arm on you.
A five-minute break from the noise sounded nice, though; even if most of it was just static to you at this point. Hopping off your stool, you started to head over towards where Happy was now camped out. While he might have swapped out cigarettes for toothpicks lately, he still kept them in an old cigarette pack. A fact that you found as endearing as you did smart. You also knew that within that pack he was currently holding in his kutte, there was a joint. One that youâd slipped in there before the two of you left for the party. It seemed like as good of a time as any to cash in on it.
Leaning over the back of the sofa where he was sitting, you rested one hand on each of his shoulders. You slid them down to his chest as you leaned lower so you could speak quietly against his ear.
âGot a lighter for me?â you asked.
He was reaching for it before you even finished the question. âWhat doââ he stopped himself short, the answer coming in the form of you reaching into the pocket of his kutte. He chuckled, allowing you to take it even though you would make the worldâs worst pick-pocket. He snuck a kiss against your jaw as you pulled away from him. âStay outta trouble.â
You laughed as you began to weave you way towards the door. âAlways do!â
Fake pack of smokes in one hand, lighter twirling between the fingers of the other, you did your best to duck and weave through the clusters of people without drawing attention to yourself.
There were only a few more strides separating you from the door when you heard the sound of shattering glass behind you. That on its own wasnât cause for concernâeveryone was dropping and throwing and breaking things all the time. What worried you was the fact that it was followed by yelling.
Your grip tightened around the lighter involuntarily as you turned around to see what was going on. This much booze and testosterone locked up inside one building, a fight breaking out was more likely than not. Especially with guys in from out of town.
You watched it turn from a one-on-one scuffle into a multi-man brawl in real time. The sigh of exhaustion you let out was involuntary. The only upside was that when it was all SOA patches, and they were inside the clubhouse, you could be fairly certain that no one was going to pull a gun. Itâd be all fists and smacking heads off tables, which would still do damage but nothing permanent.
The only thing that stopped you from still heading outside to smoke was seeing Happy get up off the couch heâd been so comfortably sitting on just moments ago. What the rest of these guys did was their own business, but Happy was yours. You shoved the pack and lighter into the back pockets of your jeans, admitting defeat for the time being.
Breaking up fights wasnât something you made a habit of, kind of like how Charming PD didnât bust up clubhouse parties. All things ran their course. You hung around just close enough to get Happyâs attention if you needed it, to stop him from taking things too far. He was a man with no internal off-switch, so you had to be an external one.
You lingered outside the fray. Realizing that your night was about to get longer than you had originally bargained for, the thought crossed your mind to spark up your joint right then and there. Because apparently there wasnât going to be any peace and quiet to be found.
Your gaze dropped from the bedlam for hardly a second, just long enough to flip open the cigarette pack so you could see your joint amongst all the toothpicks. But you didnât even get the chance to reach for it. The second your gaze locked onto it, you were getting knocked clean off your feet by someone knocking into you. The man who had gotten shoved into you hadnât been paying attention and neither had you. It was collateral damage, or at least it had started off that way.
Staying down wasnât an optionânot a safe one anyway. You got back up on your feet quickly, the frustrated, âYou gotta be fucking kidding me,â falling from your lips before you thought twice about it.
The man who had bowled you over hadnât noticed you before, but he sure did now. He spun back on you, lip busted and anger in his eyes. âThe fuck you say to me?â
You hadnât said it to him, not really. If anything it was a statement directed at everyone in the goddamn clubhouse, Happy included. But between his tone and the way he was looking at you, you were ready to let him take it personally. âSounds like you heard me just fine,â you snapped.
For a big guy, he moved faster than you had been ready for. You backpedaled when he tried to step in closer to you, but with his reach it didnât end up mattering. The sting of his rings cutting into the skin of your cheek was a sharp pain, the kind that distracted momentarily from the throbbing of getting socked in the jaw. It wasnât the kind of punch that would knock you out, but it certainly knocked you down. You were all palms and heels as you tried to back away enough to get upright again. Youâd gotten halfway there when the toe of his boot connected with your stomach.
The kick knocked the wind out of you. You couldnât get up, couldnât even try to yell for Happy. All you could do was wait for it to be over. Shutting your eyes tight, you waited for the second blow. But it never came.
There was a grunt followed quickly by the sound of shattering glass. You caught the castoff spray of whatever had been in the bottle that had gotten smashed. Opening your eyes, you looked up to see that Happy had not only seen what had happened, but was dealing out retribution for it. Breaking the bottle against the back of the guyâs head had been a warning shot.
Rage wasnât a strong enough word for what you saw flaring up in Happyâs eyes. The guy who had knocked you down was bigger than Happy, too, but that didnât matter. Happyâs rings broke skin easy too, the mess he was making of that guyâs face made the cuts along your cheekbone seem like nothing in comparison. In no time Happy had the man on the floor. Happy gripped him up by the collar of his shirt, lifting him just enough so that when his next punch landed it smacked the back of his head off the floor at the same time.
The ringing in your ears was cut through only by the sound of Happyâs grunts of exertion. If the stakes had been different, this would have been the point where you would have called him off. This time, though? This time you were content to let Happy go unchecked. Every dog deserved to run off-leash once in a while.
When Happy finally let the guy drop, his head landed against the wood floors with one final thump. The guy was still breathing, but he wasnât conscious. The sight of it gave you enough strength to try and get your feet back under you.
Happy stood upright, and for a moment you thought that was the end of it. Then he reached into his kutte and pulled out his gun. Your eyes went wide, but between your breath and your jaw you couldnât force any words out.
âHap!â Jaxâs voice rang out above everything, although things had quieted considerably when people caught wind of just how badly Happy was hurting one of their own. Even before the gun it was far outside the realm of a typical club brawl. Jax stepped in close but wasnât touching him. âThatâs enough.â
Happy shook his head. With quick efficiency he slid his hand along the top of his gun, the click of a bullet sliding into the chamber unmistakable. âNo, itâs not.â
Then Jax reached out. He firmly, but carefully, pushed Happyâs hands down so that the gun was no longer pointed at the manâs head. His voice dropped lower. âNot here.â
You could see the way Happy was grinding his teeth, a last-ditch effort to contain all the anger bubbling up inside him. One wrong word and Happy was going to be pointing that gun at Jax next. âThen where?â
There was no right answer that Jax could give him. And at a certain point Happy wasnât going to give a damn what the flash on Jaxâs kutte saidâpresident or not he wouldnât be able to stop Happy from getting the pound of flesh he felt he was owed.
âHappy,â you said, ignoring the throbbing in your jaw.
His attention went right to you. There was blood dripping down your cheek from where youâd been cut, and you had one hand on your stomach from the kick. The fire in his eyes didnât die out, but it shrunk, which was all you needed. He shoved the gun back into his kutte as he stepped over the man towards you.
When he was close enough, he had his hands on the outside of your arms, his grip firm and protective. The warmth coming off his hands, the callouses on his palms, they were tiny reassurances that allowed some of the tension to fade from your muscles.
âTake me home, Hap,â you said, unable to hide your exhaustion.
You didnât miss the split second of hesitation. You knew whyâin his mind the job wasnât done. But then he saw the tears in your eyes. Nodding, he ushered you so that you were beside him, one of his hands resting against the small of your back.
He paused beside Jax, eyes boring into his. âHandle it.â
Jax nodded, knowing that it was the only correct response. âWe will.â
The two of you were standing beside Happyâs bike. Normally heâd hand you your helmet and the two of you would hop right on, but this time all you had it in you to do was collapse against him, your good cheek pressing into the smooth leather of his kutte. You shut your eyes tight as his hand rested against the back of your head. Deep breath in, deep breath out, just enough to keep you from crying.
âIâm sorry.â He murmured the words against your temple. Two words that were incredibly difficult to come by when it came to Happy Lowman. He didnât say them lightly and you didnât take them lightly either.
You nodded, head still pressed against him. âI know.â
He kissed the edge of your forehead. âI love you.â
You let out a weak chuckle, one that kicked up the ache in your muscles. âI know that too.â Taking a deep breath, you leaned back just enough so that you could look him in the eyes. âI love you.â You tried not to flinch as he thumbed away some of the blood on your cheek. âGet me outta here and you can clean me up for real when we get home.â
He nodded. âI will.â
The small smile you gave him was tired, but it wasnât fake. âI know you will.â
(divider by @secretlysamcro đ€)
SOA Taglist: @darqchilddaydreamz @withmyteeth @garbinge @justreblogginfics @i-just-read-stuff @jitterbugs927 @paintballkid711 @winchestershiresauce @proceduralpassion @nessamc (idk who else is still left 'round these parts who reads soa but feel free to ask for a tag if you'd like one! xo)
okay i could read about these two forever are you kiddddddding me. tay i LOOOOOVED THIS SO MUCH. you write sappy smitten in love happy perfectly its like a drop of sap in the form of a look and its enough to keep me going for weeks. like a shot of adrenaline. its in the little things like the hand on the shoulder, understanding what reader is saying when shes not saying it, letting her search in his kutte for the fake cig pack. ugh protective happy is my fav, donât tempt me because i might just drop a request for more if its still open đ
